Dante was going to kill that shopkeeper in Sartu.

Well, not kill him, but he was certainly going to have some words with the man the next time he passed through. There was something very wrong with those peppers. Something Bear must be immune to--probably related to why she liked spicy food to begin with. Dante didn’t know if it was just the excruciating pain on his neck that had made him delirious or if there had actually been toxins in the oil that had loosened his tongue in more ways than one.

Either way, he was absolutely mortified thinking about everything he had said--and done--to Bear. How open and forward he had been. How he admitted how much she meant to him, that his attraction to her was more than skin deep.

Gods, he’d told her he fantasized about tasting her. Good thing, too, or he’d never have known Marnie was in danger. Only that realization had pulled him from the high.

In a way, he was grateful for that. Nothing else--aside from Bear herself indicating she had reservations--could have possibly stopped him from splitting Bear in two just then.

Not even the fact that she didn’t know his name. Which was, of course, moot now.

And Bear certainly hadn’t seemed like she had reservations. No, she seemed quite willing to let him have his way with her.

Which was a problem. All of it was a problem.

It made the flight awkward. Not that he spared too much of his energy thinking about the way she felt in his arms right now. He was more focused on getting to Pregg as quickly as possible, to ensure Marnie and Delle were safe. He cursed himself for the hundredth time. How could he have been so careless? He shouldn’t have involved Tamar.

Dante flew through the night, even when Bear had fallen asleep in his arms and he’d had to hold on to her tighter, her arms no longer providing that extra security around his neck. His muscles ached with the effort. Not only from her additional weight, but also because he’d used his wings so little the past few weeks. He’d only flown once since he found the princess--only to travel to that little village to get supplies when her cycle started. He pushed through the pain in his back and wings until long after the sun came up, and Bear with it. Only then did he land, and only because she meekly requested it to see to her needs.

Dante landed in a golden field next to a crop of thick fir trees, the midmorning sun warming the air. Bear didn’t excuse herself to the woods right away. She lingered after Dante set her down, staring at him, obviously wanting to talk.

“Yes, Princess?” Dante asked as he stretched his wings and arms, the former stiff from flying, the latter from holding Bear all night.

“Am I allowed to ask about…everything?”

Dante attempted to keep his face and voice neutral as he’d trained himself. As he’d always been able to do before. “You may ask whatever you want. That doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”

“So…how did you change your features? How did you conceal your wings? How is this not a gift? How long until we get to Pregg? Why aren’t your ears pointed?” Bear ticked off her fingers as she asked each question as if counting to make sure she didn’t forget any.

He wanted to laugh at her candor. But he didn’t. He also didn’t feel like explaining what he was, so he ignored all but the last question. “My ears aren’t pointed because I’m not fae.”

“You have to be,” Bear blurted out. “That’s why you’re so comfortable in the sky, why the wind didn’t bother your eyes on Gordy, why the cold doesn’t bother you.”

Dante was impressed. “How do you know so much about fae physiology?”

She obviously knew about the extra membrane that covered fae’s eyes--providing protection during flight--and the layer of insulation just under fae’s skin that kept them warmer than their shifter and human peers.

“I’m not as uneducated as you think I am. Just because I’m not familiar with dragons--which are banned from Hogard, I might remind you--doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.” Her face was set in a look of hurt and anger.

Against his wishes, Dante’s mask of indifference fell. “I’m sorry for what I said about you not knowing about your kingdom. I don’t think you’re uneducated. I think you’re very clever, actually.”

She’d certainly been clever enough to break through all his defenses.

Her face instantly softened. Bear approached him and reached up to wrap her arms around Dante’s neck. She laid her cheek on his bare chest--his traveling shirt wasn’t made for wings. “You were upset. I get it.”

Dante didn’t hug her back and she pulled away, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Don’t you need to use the woods, Princess?”

Bear swallowed, giving Dante a shallow nod, and disappeared into the trees.

Dante continued his stretches, saw to his own needs, and--Bear still not back--decided to lay down and rest while he could. He could hear her, after all.

He was so used to being able to hear everything everyone around him was doing, he’d become immune to it. The sounds of pissing, shitting, fucking, fighting--anything anyone might be embarrassed about being overhead--were such a part of his daily life he hardly ever gave them a second thought.

But the noises Bear was making right now were hard to ignore.

When he left that ale at their camp last night, he hadn’t been thinking about the after-effects of eating the peppers. He didn’t eat spicy food, so it hadn’t crossed his mind that she would be needing relief when they came out the other end.

Several more minutes passed and Dante could no longer take the whimpers of pain. He launched into the sky only to return shortly after with a jug of grain alcohol from a nearby town. Bear was still in the woods.

He crept through the firs toward her, stopping just far enough away that she was still hidden from view, giving her at least that much privacy. He knew she’d be mortified if she knew how aware he was of what was happening. “Bear?”

“I’m fine! Please go away. I’ll be out soon.”

Dante shook his head at her hard-headedness, smiling to himself. “I brought something to help you.”

“Go. Away.”

He did no such thing. “I’m coming in.”

Bear hollered warnings and threats, but Dante weaved through the few trees that separated them. He averted his eyes as much as he could, holding out the jug toward her. She didn’t take it.

“What is that?” she asked.

Dante kept his eyes to the sky as he answered. “Alcohol.”

She still didn’t take it.

Dante cleared his throat. “Do you need me to…help?”

Bear laughed. Squatting in the woods in front of Dante with her pants down and her ass on fire, his Bear was laughing. “You want to rub alcohol on my asshole?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to.” Dante felt his face heat. Solin, he’d never in his life blushed over a woman. “But if you needed me to, I would.”

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Her voice was still full of amusement as she said, “I didn’t realize how much you meant it when you said you fantasized about my ass.”

Renewed mortification flowed over him as he recalled he had mentioned how much he liked her ass last night. A few times.

Maybe he would kill that shopkeeper.

Dante thrust the jug at Bear, making contact with her body. He prodded her with it until he felt her take it from him, then swiftly left the woods. Back in the field, he walked far enough away that even he couldn’t hear her anymore. He dropped to the ground, drained in every possible way, and closed his eyes.

#

Bear was sitting beside him when Dante woke up. Her legs were crossed and she leaned back on both hands in a lounging pose, but her gaze was vigilant and focused on him.

“I didn’t wake you because you needed sleep. I would have in another hour, though,” she said by way of greeting, as if she thought he would be cross with her. He wouldn’t argue. He did need sleep. Especially if he was so tired her approach hadn’t even roused him.

Dante sat up and rummaged through their pack until he pulled out a piece of dried meat and bit off a chunk before he continued his search. Bear passed him the waterskin that had been hidden behind her. Dante accepted and tossed the bag aside, that being what he’d been searching for. “Thanks. Did you already eat?”

Bear shook her head and he immediately reached for the bag again, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’m not hungry. My stomach’s still a bit queasy.”

Guilt twisted Dante’s own stomach, driving away his hunger. He tossed the jerky back in the pack.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Eat, Con.”

Dante studied her. “You’d rather call me Con, even knowing my real name?”

Bear’s lips curved into a smile. A soft smile, not one of amusement but of tenderness. That twisted Dante’s stomach, too. “No, Dante. I want to know the real you. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”

The real Dante was really going to fuck over the real princess. This detour was going to add time, but he’d still deliver her as promised. As he had to, no matter how much he no longer wanted to, no longer cared about the money. Dante clenched his jaw and looked away.

“You’d rather call me Bear,” she added, as if just realizing he, too, knew her real name and chose not to use it.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Why?”

Dante had no reason to tell her. She’d asked yesterday about his parents, and he’d ignored the question. He could easily ignore her again. But he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that he chose not to use her name not because he hated her--like he’d originally thought--but because it was too painful.

“My parents were killed when I was a kid. I’ve always blamed you for their deaths. It didn’t matter that you were just a babe when it happened. It was because of you. That’s what I thought, anyway.” Dante looked at the princess to find her golden brown eyes lined with sorrow. “I know that’s not true now.”

Bear reached for him, finding his hand and interlocking their fingers. “May I ask how?”

Dante sighed and looked away again. “When you were born without a magic sac, apparently some people took issue with it. Didn’t think a perfect should rule. Not my parents. But they were in a tavern one night--a crowded tavern filled with men, women, and children. And a single asshole was spouting some of that bullshit, not seeing the royal guards at the next table over. The guards didn’t say a word as they stood up, stared the man down, and walked out. One woman just happened to be leaving at the same time. She slipped out the door with them. Then the guards used their gifts to lock all the doors and windows and set the place on fire. They told that woman to tell everyone what happened--what would happen to anyone else who dared question your right to rule.”

Bear’s hand squeezed his tighter, but still Dante didn’t look at her.

“Carson—my brother—had just moved into his own place. He was a lot older than me. I was with him that night. Otherwise I would’ve been a pile of ash, too. Instead, I just became his burden. Which made him have to work more. Which made him travel further. Eventually finding himself on that bridge that collapsed.”

Bear’s thumb stroked his hand. “And that’s when you became an assassin?”

Dante shook his head. “That’s when I went to Hogard looking to make money. It was another year before Sol enlisted me.”

Bear’s stroking paused. “Lord Sol Somanti?”

Dante turned to Bear to find her cheeks stained with tears. He resisted the urge to wipe them away. “You know of the Lord of the Lawless?”

Bear shook her head. “I recognize the name from your conversation with…your brethren who caught up to us. Who is he?”

Dante licked his lips. What the fuck did it matter now? She already knew enough to ruin him and everything he cared about. “The ruler of the Cavs. My master. He took me in when I was fourteen. Not just me, tons of kids. He taught us how to use our strengths. Mine was my gift. As you can imagine, it’s very useful for stealing.” He swallowed. “As you’ve witnessed, it’s very useful for killing.”

Bear didn’t flinch. “He’s the one who told you to kidnap me?”

Dante nodded, squinting at the sun that had just peaked out from behind some grey clouds. He hoped the storms would stay away; they’d make flying difficult, but not impossible. Birds had to wait out storms, but fae--and Dante--were big enough to not get knocked around in the wind and rain.

“Sol offered me the job. It paid too much for me to pass up. This job will allow me to never have to do any of it ever again. Never see him, never kill or hurt or steal. Never even go back to Hogard--which I hate. I fucking hate that city.”

Bear blinked and Dante immediately regretted insulting her city. But then her lips parted and she was asking more questions. “How much is he paying you?”

Dante hated himself. She wanted to know how much her life was worth to him. “I don’t care about the money anymore. The only reason I’m still doing this is to keep my family safe.”

Bear looked conflicted, as if she couldn’t decide what she wanted to ask next, but she landed on pressing for that answer. “How much, Dante?”

He sighed. “Three hundred thousand. It would have been one hundred thousand to kill you, but Sol insisted we go for the larger sum.”

Bear’s eyes widened at the realization that he would have, could have, very much wanted to kill her. “Who could afford that?” she breathed.

Now Dante blinked. She wasn’t shocked at the realization she could have been assassinated rather than kidnapped. She was shocked at the price. He couldn’t help breathing a laugh through his nose. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“And what was the answer?” Bear asked urgently.

Dante furrowed his brows. “He didn’t tell me who the client was, if that’s what you mean. I was being honest about that. I don’t know who the client is or who we’re meeting in Kensut.”

“Kensut? That’s where you’re taking me?”

Dante nodded. Kensut was a fairly large city in the country to the north, Farren. “That doesn’t necessarily mean the client is Farrish. That’s just the meeting spot.”

Bear didn’t speak for a moment, her face twisted in concentration.

Dante rubbed his thumb on her hand to bring her back to the present and she flicked her eyes to him.

“Does that make sense to you? Is that a common request—the client not caring if their target is dead or kidnapped? It seems odd to me. Surely if they wanted their target for a specific reason, they’d want them kidnapped. And if they just wanted them out of the way, they’d want them killed. I can’t imagine a scenario in which either outcome is acceptable. It should be one or the other, right?”

Dante could understand why Bear was so interested. He’d want to know who was behind it if it was his head on the line. Hell, he wanted to know who the client was with it being Bear’s head on the line. But that was impossible. It’s not like Sol would ever tell him.

“We need to go, Bear,” he said softly. It didn’t matter that he was still exhausted. That his back and wings and arms still ached. He needed to get to Pregg.

Bear shook herself out of her trance and squeezed Dante’s hand again. “Of course. How long until we get to them?”

Dante shook his head. “I’m going to drop you off at an inn before I go see them.”

“No,” Bear protested. “I go where you go.”

“I’ve risked too much already. I won’t put them in any more danger than I already have.”

Bear placed her hands on Dante’s chest, and he hated how much he loved the feel of her skin on his. “I would never tell anyone about them. Even if I somehow end up back in Hogard, they wouldn’t be in any danger from me knowing about them. I promise.”

Dante believed her. Again, what the fuck did it matter? She knew his name. She knew about his unique shifting abilities. She knew what Tamar looked like and all about Gordy. She knew about Sol and the specifics of the job. If she wanted to find his family, she could. If she wanted to punish his family, she could. With or without an introduction to them. At least with one, she would have a face and a name and know that they are loved--something that might make it harder to hurt them.

Dante clenched his jaw. “We should be there tomorrow morning.”