“Aspen,” Strength said. “He would have killed for less. He probably does all the time.”

  “But Integrity was beloved—”

  “And Pike has spent years trying to spread rumors that someone else did it, even the nonsense idea that you might have done it,” Strength said. “If he can capture or kill you, it’ll be that much easier to frame you.”

  “But why?” Aspen asked, genuinely puzzled. “It’s been years. The Scale belongs to him now.”

  “Integrity’s still a powerful symbol to them, even if they don’t live by what he taught. And if Pike can focus everyone’s attention on an outside enemy—you—then maybe it helps him quell dissension in the ranks. But don’t brush off my first theory: Pike was always jealous of you. I’m right about that.”

  “I… did have some influence with the younger members before I left,” Aspen said reluctantly. Left was a polite way of saying was chased out under a cloud of suspicion. “Pike never liked that. But I can’t imagine that any of those people stayed.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t,” Strength said. “It made Pike look weak that he couldn’t win them back from you. He won’t have forgotten. This is personal.”

  “If Pike wants to frame you,” Charm said, contemplating Aspen, “then maybe we should frame him instead.”

  Strength snorted. “That’s not framing, that’s just solving the case. He did it.”

  “We have no proof,” Aspen said. With proof, she’d have resolved this long ago.

  “Neither does he,” Charm countered. “We just need to figure out what he’s planning and then turn it around on him. That’ll destroy his credibility, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Aspen said slowly. “The people he’s cultivated might remain loyal to him through anything. It’s not like they have high moral standards. They’re working for him now. But if we could convince even a few of them not to follow him, that evens our odds.”

  “This is sounding a lot more elaborate than busting down the door and killing everyone,” Strength said. “But if you need a woman with a sword—a second one, I mean, after Aspen—I’m in.”

  “Me too,” Mercy said. “After Pike took over, he didn’t want Soar to stay, even though Integrity took her in and she’s my sister.”

  “Yeah,” Soar said, leaning into Mercy’s arm around her waist. “I’m in, too.”

  “Thank you,” Aspen said as solemnly as possible, even though she wasn’t sure how much she could use two bickering nineteen year olds. They were Strength’s wards and she didn’t want to risk them. She’d much rather have Joy’s help. At least he could throw his weight around.

  “I was never in the Scale,” Joy said. “But I owe Strength my life. If she’s in, I’m in.”

  “When have I ever not wanted to fight?” Strength asked him, flashing her teeth. To Aspen, she said, “I think I can get you at least a dozen more. I know that doesn’t give us the advantage of numbers, but they’re all good in a fight.”

  “I’m no use in a fight,” Charm said. “But you know I want to do this. I can steal anything—information, anything—you need. And the troupe will help, too.”

  At this declaration, Mercy and Soar had returned to staring wide-eyed at Charm. She winked, causing a cascade of startled movement that made the water slosh out of their cups. Despite herself, Aspen smiled.

  “Speaking of the advantage of numbers,” Aspen said. “I’ve been thinking about this. I should go in alone.”

  “You what?” Charm said. “Mists, have you learned nothing?”

  “Hear me out. Pike won’t expect me to have allies. He was able to hound me out of the Scale and I’ve been on my own for years. He probably knows about you, but he certainly won’t expect Strength and her people, or any of the troupe members.”

  “You want to trick him,” Charm said, approval in her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Now that, I like.”

  “So I’ll ride in alone and let some of Pike’s people capture me,” Aspen said. “If I let them take me alive, I’ll bet they’ll opt for that over killing me.”

  “This, I like less,” Charm said. “But I’m listening.”

  Over the next few hours, with arguing from all sides, a plan began to take shape.

  Charm might share Aspen’s bed—for sleeping—but she’d never share her morning hours. When Charm deigned to stretch her arms over her head and blink her eyes open, Aspen was long gone, probably off doing some kind of unfairly sexy play-fighting with Strength.

  Perhaps that was a reason to get out of bed, clamber down the ladder from this lofted bedroom into the larger warehouse, and go watch.

  No, it would have to wait. Charm dug through yesterday’s discarded clothes until she found the mirror-shard pendant that was paired with Flickering’s and then warmed the glass with her breath, hoping her best friend in the Harstead Players troupe wasn’t too busy to answer.

  “Flick?”

  There was a clatter of wooden practice swords. The mirror revealed nothing but darkness. “Stop stabbing me! Charm wants to talk!” Flick shouted at someone, and then asked, breathless, “Charm? You’re alive?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? We talked two days ago.”

  “I never know anymore, you’re always getting ambushed or caught in magical traps or wandering the wilderness,” Flick said. “And then you went to Ainbridge. I bet all kinds of people never come back from there.”

  “So far it’s mostly depressing, not life-threatening,” Charm said. In the tiny glass shard, Flick was grinning at her from under a sheen of sweat, her tan skin and the green scales down her shoulder glowing. With a sudden, fierce ache, Charm missed rehearsing with Flick. The troupe in Ozhleh Zna had been wonderful, but they hadn’t been hers. “We met one of Aspen’s old friends who lives here now.”

  “Why, under all the brilliant light of the Sun, would anyone choose to do that?”

  “She’s helping people,” Charm said. “People like her and Aspen, I don’t think they know any other way to live.”

  “And why do you sound so wistful about that? You’re not usually one for wist.”

  “I don’t think that’s a word.” Charm settled back into her pillows, not caring that Flick could see her hair coming out of the silk scarf she kept it wrapped in at night. Bedding this good was a luxury to be cherished. She’d been in the wilderness too long.

  Flick said, “Answer my question.”

  Charm dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling and take the deepest possible breath. The sheets smelled like Aspen. “I think maybe we should help, Flick.”

  “Help what, exactly?”

  “You know Aspen’s in trouble.”

  “Oh, you mean the reason you’ve traipsed all over the continent and left us without a leading lady since the beginning of Frost Moon? I’m great at it, obviously, but you know sometimes I like to be the leading man.”

  “Please. I know Amity’s still got you playing Sassy Servant Number Two.”

  “Now that you mention it, I don’t miss you at all. Stay across the river and I’ll keep taking all your parts. Anyway, yes, I am aware that Aspen has some kind of gang of ruthless criminals trying to kill her, and by extension, you. Hence why I asked if you were alive not three minutes ago.”

  “You’re right. It’s too dangerous. I shouldn’t ask anybody in the troupe to take a risk like this,” Charm said.

  “Why don’t you tell me the plan and let us make our own decisions?” Flick asked.

  Charm did.

  Spending a few days with Strength was good, but very different from seeing Ayzeh, though Strength had cobbled together her own little family, too. Their life in Ainbridge was rougher around the edges than Ayzeh’s domestic bliss in Ozhleh Zna, and there was still a spark of danger in the work Strength had chosen.

  What she did for her family and her neighbors and her city was good. Still getting her hands dirty helping people, whether that meant providing food or shelter or judiciously applied violence, but finding time to come home to her loved ones, too was good.

  Aspen could live that way—if she lived.

  As of this evening, there was only one person she wanted to come home to, and when Aspen poked her head into the lofted bedroom, Charm was turned away from her, trying to reach behind herself to undo the laces of her dress.

  Her curls were piled on top of her head. The line of her neck was so gorgeous that Aspen could hardly breathe. She didn’t want Charm to move.

  Silently, Aspen crept up the ladder, rose to her feet, and crossed the room. She caught Charm’s struggling hands and dropped a kiss on her nape. “I could do that for you.”

  “What the fuck, Aspen.” Charm huffed, more indignant than startled. “You scared me.”

  “You thought someone else might have infiltrated this heavily guarded warehouse and climbed up the ladder to seduce you?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  Aspen smiled against the warmth of Charm’s skin. “Is it working?”

  “I thought I would have to seduce you.” Charm brought Aspen’s arms to encircle her waist. “Only I didn’t want to push you any more than I already had.”

  They’d shared passionate kisses since their misadventure with the Moon witches in Nauvis, and they’d huddled for warmth during their travels through the wilderness, but no more. Aspen said, “I thought you’d want a proper bed, that’s all.”

  Charm laughed, a soft, warm sound that vibrated against Aspen. “If you knew how many times I’d considered convenient closets, or alleys, or piles of dead leaves…”

  Aspen kissed her way down Charm’s neck toward her collarbone, appreciating the expanse of smooth, brown skin and deep cleavage set off by her bodice. Then she set to work on Charm’s laces, loosening them until she could peel Charm’s clothes off layer by complicated, lacy, embroidered layer. They settled in colorful drifts around Charm’s bare feet.

  Aspen still had her boots and everything else on, but she couldn’t be bothered to fix that, not with Charm gloriously naked in front of her. Charm raised one arm to hook it around Aspen’s neck, leaning back, letting Aspen take her weight. The unworried trust of the gesture made something hot and yearning bloom in Aspen’s chest. Charm was so at ease like this, luxuriant, inviting—demanding, even, like a queen expecting to be served.

  Aspen wanted to serve. She ran her hands down the curve of Charm’s hips in awed appreciation, and then over the swell of her belly and up to the heavy weight of her breasts. She cupped and squeezed, indulging a desire she’d restrained for months. Charm let her head loll back and sighed with pleasure while Aspen drew her dark brown nipples to stiff points.

  “I know you’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” Charm said. “But I’ve been waiting longer to feel your fingers inside me.”

  That couldn’t possibly be true, but far be it from Aspen to disobey a command. She slid one hand down to the apex of Charm’s thighs and delved between their thick, soft flesh. Her fingers parted coarse hair to find slick, satiny folds, soaking before she’d slipped inside. Aspen had only ever done this to herself, but the way Charm moaned gave her the confidence to dip her fingers deeper. Inside, the silky, tight clench felt both like and unlike her own body. Her own arousal pulsed beneath her skin. Fully clothed with her thighs pressed together, she was probably as wet just from touching Charm, hearing her, feeling her squirm and bear down against every thrust.

  “Aspen, that feels so good,” Charm said, low and raspy. “Don’t stop.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aspen said. She kissed Charm’s neck again, rolled her nipple between two fingers, and brushed her thumb over the swollen peak of her sex. Charm pressed eagerly against her hand. Aspen plunged in deeper, rubbing circles with her thumb, and Charm’s breath quickened. She came with a series of ever-higher and longer gasps, the last one shuddering and falling into satisfied silence.

  Aspen nuzzled her neck, drunk on pleasure.

  Charm sagged against her. “If you pick me up and put me over there, we can finally use the bed.”

  It was only a couple of paces away, but Aspen swung Charm into her arms and deposited her on the down mattress among all the piled blankets and pillows. Flat on her back and still hazy-eyed, Charm looked as gorgeous as Aspen had ever seen her. They hadn’t had nearly enough time to explore each other. Tonight wouldn’t be enough.

  “You have too many clothes on,” Charm said. “Strip and come sit right here.”

  Aspen ought to be beyond blushing, but the casual command and the way Charm’s fingers brushed her mouth undid her. She fumbled with the buttons on her vest, dragged her loose shirt over her head, and bent to undo her boots.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Charm said. She’d propped herself up on some pillows to watch.

  “I’m mostly scars.” Aspen wrestled her boots off and peeled her trousers down her legs. She only had the one tattoo—and that was its own kind of scar—but she was marked in so many other ways.

  “Come here,” Charm said, and when Aspen lay alongside her, she pointed to a puckered, round scar on Aspen’s thigh. “What’s this one?”

  “Crossbow bolt. Actually, it was Strength who pulled it out.”

  Charm made a face. “Don’t remind me how much of your body she’s seen.”

  “Charm, you know we never—it wasn’t like that with us.”

  “Only because you can never tell when anyone is flirting with you,” Charm said. “And it was like that with Ayzeh.”

  “It was,” Aspen said. “But that was a long time ago. I’m here now.”

  “How about this one?” Charm traced a long, silvered line up Aspen’s other leg.

  “Knife fight, I think,” Aspen said. “It gets harder to keep track.”

  “And here?” Charm tapped a small, pale pink blotch of scar tissue above Aspen’s hip bone.

  “Smallsword. Ran me right through and came damn close to killing me. My own fault, really. You can’t let people get anywhere near your organs.”

  “I think it was the fault of the person thrusting the smallsword into your gut, but sure,” Charm said. She kissed the scar, then worked her way up Aspen’s chest, asking about every little injury, dropping kisses as she went.

  Aspen thought they’d finished when Charm kissed her mouth.

  Charm brushed Aspen’s hair from her forehead. “The Moon witches all stared at these,” she said, lightly touching the two small, neatly round scars just above her hairline. “I don’t think you got them in a fight.”

  Aspen laughed—as much as she could laugh at that, anyway. “I did, actually. A very long, slow fight that looked, from the outside, like a marriage.”

  “Your husband did this to you?”

  “In a way,” Aspen said. “You know I’m of the Wood.”

  “Your name is Aspen Silverglade. Of course I know you’re Wood.”

  “My husband found me there. I thought we were in love. He uprooted me and took me to Harstead, but once we were there, he didn’t like how much I stood out from everyone else in the city. He wanted me to dress differently, to eat beef, to stay indoors. He didn’t like that no matter how well I adopted Earth customs, everyone could always tell I was Wood from my antlers.”

  “Aspen,” Charm said. She entangled her fingers with Aspen’s and gripped hard.

  “When he asked me to find a Moon witch to remove them, I did. I thought it would make things better between us.”

  “I’m glad he’s dead,” Charm said. “Do you want them back? Is that what the Moon witch in Nauvis was offering you?”

  “It was,” Aspen said. “And I don’t know. I’ve been without them a long time. My scars aren’t pretty, but neither is the rest of me. They tell a story about the life I’ve lived.”

  “‘Neither is the rest of me’?” Charm demanded, incredulous. “I didn’t pine for months for you to have such a low opinion of yourself—or me. Do you think I would settle for anyone who wasn’t stunning? I am the most sought-after and beloved actor in two capitals. I can have anyone I want. Come here and I will show you.”

  She flopped backward. Aspen kissed her on the mouth.

  Charm grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “Not that I don’t love your kisses, but I meant for you to suffocate me between your gorgeous thighs and you know it.”

  “Suffo—”

  “I would pick you up and put you here if I could,” Charm said. “Instead you’ll have to do as you’re told.”

  Heat crept up Aspen’s neck. It was easy to take orders when the goal was pleasing Charm, less so when the goal was her own pleasure. What Charm wanted from her—to do nothing, to take without giving anything in return—wasn’t something she’d often done with lovers. Not that she’d had many lovers. It set her off balance, being the sole focus of someone’s attention. She felt exposed.

  Still, Aspen wasn’t going to say no. She knelt over Charm’s face, her thighs spread. The first touch of Charm’s lips, sweet and fierce, made her grab the headboard for support. But it was her tongue, moving artfully in languid strokes, that made Aspen close her eyes and whisper Charm’s name.

  Wrapping her arms around Aspen’s thighs, Charm delved deeper. The wave of sensation overwhelmed Aspen. She could only cling to the headboard and feel. There could be no doubt that Charm loved this, wanted it, was reveling in it almost as much as Aspen. One velvet sweep of her tongue blended into the next. Aspen trembled as desire spiraled tighter inside her, shrinking down to the spark between her legs and then breaking open into a shivery heat that washed over every part of her.

  She unclenched her hands from the headboard, surprised to see the wood still intact, and melted down into the bed next to Charm. She let out a gust of breath. “You’re really good at that.”

  “I know.” Charm wiped a hand across her lips and smiled.

  “I wish we weren’t splitting up in the morning,” Aspen said.

  “Me too,” Charm said. “But think of it this way: splitting up tomorrow is how we make sure we can get back together in the future—without worrying about the Scale.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9