Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

36. Vera

Chapter 36

Vera

I watch as the large gate closes behind Ikar with dread settling in my stomach. He didn’t really leave me here. He’s cuffed, and he was forced. He’ll be back… right? I can’t name the look in his eyes before he turned and left, but it’s not the sort of look I imagine someone having before they leave someone behind. Even with that intense look he gave me, I can’t help but wonder as I’m roughly pulled by my tied wrists back to the musty smelling tent if maybe I’m so much trouble that he’s decided he will be better off without magic the rest of his life. Wouldn’t blame him for it. I never intended for this arrest to go this way. Never before, in all the contracts I’ve accepted with bounty hunters, has one ever been so wrought with wretched obstacles. And never before has a criminal drawn me in like Ikar. It’s probably for the best he’s gone free. If we did happen to stay together, it seems as if our lives would be destined for danger and forbidden love.

As we leave the arena, I hear Silas roar to the crowd, “In two days, another wedding!” The response from the crowd is so loud my ears ring.

Another wedding? How many has he had? Just as I thought I’d avoided a romantic entanglement with one criminal, which I actually feel sad about, I find out I’ll be forcibly married to another—who’s much less desirable—all in less than ten minutes.

I’m delivered back to the tent full of dusty animal pelts, my hands tied tightly together at the wrists to wait for my impending wedding. The ropes are so tight I’m sure there’ll be red welts. My forearm throbs. I sit there in shock for a long time. This is the closest I’ve ever come to wallowing in self-pity before. Worse even than when I was lost for a month on that first Class A criminal contract I accepted—at least then I was free. A few tears begin to drip into the matted fur of a rabbit, making it smell even mustier and gross, so I stop them pretty quick. It’s difficult to be appropriately emotional while smelling that.

Even as I dry my tears with my shoulder and try to quit sniffling, I consider my situation. Is this it, then? The rest of my life, I’ll be one of a number of wives to an eccentric, self-declared shift king who kills people for entertainment? The charmed bracelet on my wrist unfortunately doesn’t protect me from anyone but a king. I should clarify, a true king. And that’s only if he tries to find or bridge with me. As Ikar so bluntly stated when we first met Silas, the shift king is not recognized by law—my bracelet does nothing against him. I can only hope the mate bond I have with Ikar will keep Silas from trying to bond with me so I can eventually escape. What did Miss Mate License say? The bonds last for six weeks? I think that’s right. I have six weeks to escape, minus the couple of days we spent traveling already.

If I don’t escape, what will Mama Tina do when I never return for a visit? What will the Tulips do… and Renna? I feel a wa ve of guilt for not thinking about Renna more these past few days, I hope she’s found another contract since it’s not looking like I’ll make it back to help her. My eyes begin to well up with tears that I have to work to stifle before they hit the furs again.

When the day passes into night, and then into morning of the next day, and I haven’t heard or seen any sign of Ikar, I come to the painful realization he may have truly left me here. Or died—but that’s not likely. I thought I noticed the mate bond dot on my wrist glow a little brighter in the night, but it appears normal in the morning, and I think I just wanted to hope for something. For Ikar to be close. For Rupi to show up. Anything.

My animal heads have stared at me for the last day and a half and kept me company during the night—even if it was forced—so I consider us acquaintances by now. They seem a little friendlier after all this time. It only makes sense to name them, so I do. When I get done with that, it’s noon, and the guard comes in to spill water into my mouth and leaves a large piece of crumbly bread on a horribly dented tin plate before he leaves once again. I refuse to think about where my food has been as I choke it down. Then in my panic and stress, I’m talking to Darla, the fox with the cute tiny whiskers, and nothing against my new silent companions, but that’s when I realize that this will be my life if I don’t do something more.

Instead of talking, I busy my mouth by tearing at the ropes with my teeth. I figure if I’m doing this, I won’t find myself accidentally having one-sided conversations with the animal heads attached to my dress. I don’t know if I’ll have teeth left after, and I don’t know how I’ll get out of this forest without Ikar, wherever he is, but I’m getting out. Don’t know if I’ll ever even see him again, but one thing he’s taught me is to fight. I continue to pull and wiggle and tear against the ropes around my wrists. Hours pass, the suns set, and eventually, the only light comes from a lamp outside the tent door where the guard sits. And finally, I’m left with a mouthful of filthy rope fibers, aching teeth, raw lips, and close-to-bleeding wrists, but I’m loose.

One benefit of a floor covering of animal furs? It’s quiet. Don’t want the snake guard hearing me. I think he’s a snake, at least. His S’s sound sort of hissy like that. I silently creep along the perimeter of the interior of my tent, silently shushing my animal heads as they knock together while I search the edges of the tent for anywhere I may be able to squeeze through. On hands and knees, I finally find a place where I can slip my hand beneath. I kneel there on the filthy pelts, listening. I’ve heard sounds of some sort of celebration with tribal drums and shouting all evening, a distance away. All I can hope is that most everyone is busy there. My heart beats almost in my throat as I shove my head beneath and begin to try to wiggle my shoulders through. It’s tight, and my arms are still stuck beneath the tent at my sides. I can’t see anything but dirt and grass, so when a hand covers my mouth, I begin to struggle in panic, sure that snake shifter found me.

“It’s me. Quiet.”

Ikar . I try not to be so excited. I really shouldn’t depend on him so much, but I admit that if I was free, I would have launched myself into his arms in relief. I was doing just fine on my own, wasn’t I? But it feels much better to have a friend by my side. If only I considered him just a friend.

“You came back,” I whisper after he removes his hand with a little too much surprise in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he whispers back like he’s offended I said that while he grabs beneath my shoulders and pulls as I continue to wiggle through. Pretty sure I’m going to have a dress full of dirt by the time I’m free due to the nonexistent neckline of this frock, but I’ll take it if it means I get free. We get my arms loose, and he continues to pull while I wiggle harder, trying to get my hips through. I’ve never felt more ridiculous in my life.

“My dress is stuck,” I whisper, panicked. This is taking too long.

Ikar curses and kneels by the tent to tug the animal heads through. I almost tell him to be careful with Collette when I see how he pulls on one of her delicate rabbit ears, but I catch myself and press my lips together. I don’t want to see the look he would have given me had I said that out loud.

And then the guard comes trotting around the corner with a raspy growl. My eyes meet his glowing ones. A wolf, then. Hm. Definitely not a snake guard. It appears I do not have a talent for guessing a shifter’s form. Ikar jumps to his feet and launches toward the wolf before its teeth can catch onto my shoulder. While they battle it out, I continue to wiggle through, talking my animal heads into submission until I pull myself free and come to standing. A few minutes later, Ikar drags the lifeless wolf into the tent, leaving me a moment to hurriedly pull my hair forward to cover up what the dress doesn’t.

When he returns a few seconds later, his warm grip finds mine, and he tugs me behind him and into the shadows at the outside of the large shift camp. If we get caught, I don’t think Silas will allow Ikar another chance to fight for our freedom. My palms begin to sweat within Ikar’s grasp.

We sneak past an unmoving guard. I don’t know what Ikar did to him, and I don’t ask. He leads me carefully around the shift camp, and I don’t see any other dead guards, but I’m sure there are more. He pauses here and there to wait for guard rotations. I don’t ask how he knows, I just follow. We finally dart into thick forest after we watch two guards head to our right, conversing quietly as they make their rounds. The sounds of the tribal celebration have faded into the night now, and all around us are the normal sounds of the forest.

We creep through dirt, shrubs, and low-hanging tree branches in the darkness. Ikar stops suddenly, and I squint to see into the darkness. The moons light a wide open field with dim whiteness, revealing what looks like a pack of some sort of flying animals. All I see are large wings glinting in the moonlight.

“What are those?” I whisper.

“Sharp flyers.”

I can’t see much. The forest is dark and gloam magic lurks, increasing the shadows, but it’s obvious the creatures are huge. Other than their size, I can make out no details no matter how I strain my vision.

“On the count of three, run.”

“Do you know how to ride one of these?” I whisper warily. “What exactly is it?”

“Best if you don’t know. One, two, three.” He jumps up, pulling me with him. I gather a wad of the dress in my hand to clear the way for my feet, and we charge across the field, but as we near, I tug back instinctively. The beasts were huge from a distance, and now they are enormous. My eyes are drawn first to the long, curving neck that ends with a flat-shaped, wide head. A horrifying mix of dragon and scorpion. And to my horror, I hear the click of pincers that I can barely see in the darkness. I step back, my eyes trailing down the reptilian neck, the insect-like jointed six legs. I see the smoothness of the creature’s skin reflect the small bit of moonlight and then there’s a huge saddle in front of my face. Behind the saddle, on either side, stretch long, translucent, razor-edged wings. We stop beside it, and I’m not sure what I expect to smell, but I find I’m strangely comforted when it’s simply leather. The one we stop beside towers over Ikar by at least three feet. I see the foot grip of a saddle dangling at the height of his shoulder, and wonder how people even get on.

“I think this is a bad idea,” I whisper, my eyes still focused on that odd, flat head and the pincers. Gag. But Ikar ignores me, his hands busy running over the saddle. He finally finds what he’s looking for. His hands grip what appear to be handles built into the thick leather, and he jumps and pulls himself up, high enough now to force his left foot into the foot grip and swing his right leg over the other side. The beast shifts two steps to the side, and I jump back in fear. This is a terrible, terrible idea. I just know it’s going to buck him off and come after me. But Ikar rubs its long neck and murmurs something I can’t decipher to it, like it’s his favorite horse. I hold my breath, but it seems to work, and the beast stills. Ikar leans over with a hand out, and I have a decision to make.

“I’ll sit behind,” I say firmly, best to keep some distance from my handsome criminal. I am entirely too happy he returned for me, and I might actually kiss him for it if I get the chance. So, backseat it is. And also to avoid that disgusting head. I shiver a bit.

“You sure about that?” Ikar looks over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze. In our rush to escape, to steal one of these creatures I have never seen before in my life, my focus on its head, I haven’t taken the time to truly see what it is. Why it’s called a sharp flyer. I thought it was the pincers, the sharp-edged wings. Now, I see. A deadly, sharp stinger, like that of a scorpion, and nearly the full height of me, hangs from the end of a large, curved tail. Dangling just above where I planned to seat myself. No. Just, no .

Though I can’t see his face well, I can sense the smirk that he surely wears, and I eye his outstretched hand. But I can’t do it. I can’t ride this monster.

“Plan B, Ikar,” I whisper yell, aware that there could be guards around, but unable to force myself to grab his hand.

I hear sounds then from behind me.

“This is the only plan. Now, Vera,” he says firmly.

I hear running. And then, one-by-one, huge magic-fueled lights begin to spark on around the field, illuminating everything and waking the rest of the sharp flyers. This is not good. The beast begins to side step nervously, one of its six jointed legs almost bowling me over before I jump out of the way with a yelp. I look over my shoulder and see a large group of guards spilling onto the field. I cringe, grit my teeth, and grab Ikar’s hand. He pulls me up like I’m a sack of feathers and plants me in front of him. I hurriedly settle myself as far ahead of him as I can. The dress is forced up to accommodate my position on the saddle, revealing my knees and lower thighs. I gasp in horror—I’m not one for revealing attire. I’m the girl that dresses like a man and is mistaken for a boy, not an everwisp sister. I tug at it while Ikar nudges the sides of the sharp flyer with his heels like he would a horse, and I prepare myself to take off into the air. But there’s no wind in my face. It doesn’t move. He tries again, slapping the reins. Still, nothing.

“You’ve flown one of these before, right?” Every time I tug on one side of the horrendous dress, it reveals more of the opposite thigh. On one side, Darla stares at me, the other, Collette, the rabbit. I forget the dress—it’s covering the most important parts. Barely. I blow a piece of hair from my face and grab the saddle with both hands.

“This’ll be a first,” he grunts, as he continues to try different things to get it moving. He clicks his tongue, pulls the reins in different ways, everything. I pretend like he didn’t say that. I pretend like he said he has one of his own that he rides for fun on the weekends, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. I look back at the guards, completely illuminated in the bright lights. One of them shouts something at us, and others are already running our way. A few have nocked arrows, others have swords drawn. They can see us just as clearly as we can see them. A distant roar that sounds much like Silas meets our ears, and I gulp. It sounds as if he just found out his newest fiancée escaped.

“Your magic. Try it,” he practically shouts in my ear.

My hands fumble around in the air like an idiot as my thoughts scatter like fall leaves in a chill breeze. I have no idea what he’s asking me to do. I pull lucent into my hands, it webs across my skin this time, and I place both my hands on the creature’s neck, sending magic to it. But still, nothing. I look over my shoulder, panic making my magic flicker.

“Focus.” Ikar pulls his sword, prepared to fight if I can’t get this monster moving.

If I can talk to dead animal heads and make friends, I can talk to this big guy. I close my eyes and send more magic, speaking like I saw Ikar do to calm it. “Fly, Sharp Flyer. ”

It begins to move with a strange, skittering gate. We start out slow, and then the ground begins to blur beneath us, and before I can scream, we’re in the air. I dare not remove my hands or my magic, worried I’ll lose the connection and we’ll tumble from the sky. It climbs at a steady pace, and I refuse to look to one side or the other. I clutch its disgusting, reptilian-like neck as hard as I can, my back ramrod straight and my thighs already burning from my attempt to keep my seat atop this odd, horrifying creature. Tears stream from the corners of my eyes from the force of the wind, but I don’t lift a hand to wipe them away, even as my dress blows up and billows around me. Good thing Ikar is behind me.

I take a deep breath and let it out. We did it. I’m about to smile when Ikar wraps his arm around me and slams me back against his hard chest as the creature takes a sharp right, and we dive. I lift off the seat with the force of our plunge, and my stomach rises and falls again, my dress following the same motions as the yards of fabric blow up in front of me. I think I’m going to be sick. I swallow it down and try not to fight the motion of movement. I use Jasper, the raccoon, and Greta, the squirrel head, to tuck the dress and hold it beneath my thighs. I try to tuck my long hair into the back of the dress, since someone forgot to finish the front, but the wind is too much, and it pulls free and fans out wildly, slapping and stinging my face. I hear Ikar growl irritably behind me, and with it, the creature wobbles and turns like it doesn’t know where to go.

Even for a beginner, Ikar is doing horribly. “You need practice,” I call over my shoulder, grinning as I imagine the frown he’ll surely make.

An arrow shoots past, I hear the whistle and cringe away out of instinct. So, maybe he’s doing better than I thought. I didn’t realize we had attackers behind us.

“Your hair!” he shouts over the wind as he lifts his chin high to avoid it and still see. And I realize that if it’s in my face it’s most definitely in his.

Another arrow flies behind us, this one catching Ikar’s coat and leaving a flapping tear in the arm. He pulls back on the reins, his arm gripping me against his chest still as we take another sharp turn. I don’t want to free my death grip to gather it, but when I do, I’m horrified to realize I’ve been gripping Ikar’s thighs and not the saddle. My face burns, and I’m grateful he can’t see it while I grapple wildly to pull my hair in while he’s straining to see through it. I see another flyer come up to our left, its rider nocking another arrow just as I get my hair under control.

“Take the reins.” Ikar shoves the thick leather straps into my one free hand.

I try to tell him I can’t steer this creature with just one hand, but my words are lost to the wind.

He grabs an arrow and nocks it, then takes aim. “Power this.” He keeps his eyes focused on the shifter flying across from us.

I’ve never done something like this, but I quickly pull a little lucent and direct it into the enchanted arrow by releasing my fisted hair and touching it with my hand, Ikar’s magic is still blocked, and he can’t do it himself. That cuff is becoming more and more inconvenient. It doesn’t take much before the arrow glows and he immediately lets it fly. It finds its mark, sending the rider soaring to the world beneath us.

The riderless sharp flyer immediately pulls back, the slack reins signaling its freedom. I hope Ikar doesn’t notice how white my magic is. I bite my lip even as I adjust the reins in my hands and try to gather my hair with one hand. The next one is above us, and I see the arrow aimed at Ikar just before he releases it. With one hand still on the reins, I pull the sharp flyer hard to the right, watching as the arrow barely misses as we cross beneath the other and end up on its left.

“A little warning next time,” Ikar grunts, as he climbs back on to the saddle from the side where he slipped off from the sudden movement.

I nod, more scared than I’d like to admit that he’d almost fallen.

“Magic,” he calls again as he stretches the bow tightly, once again aiming carefully. I give up on holding my hair, pray to Lucentia that he’s too busy aiming at the enemy to notice the color of my magic, and quickly touch the arrow. It glows, and he immediately sets it free, but the other flyer dodges, his flyer spinning to the side, and I have no idea how he hasn’t fallen off. It makes me wonder if I have more influence over this creature than I realize. Strands of my hair rebelliously whip around my head, making me feel like some sort of sharp flyer goddess.

My hands still glow with lucent, and I press one to its neck. I’m not sure if I have to touch the beast now that I’ve established a connection, but better safe than sorry. I speak to it again as I tentatively pull back on the reins, thanking it, even as another arrow whizzes by.

I glance above us and find the flyer still there, and an idea comes to mind. I don’t know if it will work, but these stingers have got to be useful for something. Another arrow comes at us, and I press myself against the flyer to avoid being hit. While I’m there, I speak to it again, this time with my thoughts as lucent sparks between it and I. Slow down, and quickly rise behind the other. I visualize it as I speak to the creature, and I don’t know if it senses my plan or knows my words, but surprisingly, it obeys.

“Brace yourself!” I shout, but it wasn’t enough warning, and Ikar falls against my back with a grunt as I slide forward against the pommel of the saddle with how quickly it slows, then just as quickly, it’s rushing forward again, but this time directly behind the other flyer. Use that stinger. It seems to greedily eat up the air between the flyer ahead of us, and with deadly accuracy, the stinger raises, and Ikar and I slide forward as its body moves up almost completely horizontal with its attack. I tumble forward onto its neck, my face almost on top of its flat head, and then it lashes out with its stinger, and the rider is ripped from his seat and tossed out into the open air with a scream that fades as he falls. The stinger falls back to its normal position and then it turns to avoid crashing into the other flyer that, without the guidance of its rider, has slowed its pace. Its turn has me slipping around its smooth neck, and I scream, finding myself dangling above open sky from beneath it, grasping with both arms. Sheer terror overtakes me.

“I’ve got you! Let go!” Ikar shouts, as he grabs my upper arm tightly.

I shake my head, my eyes squeezed shut.

“Let go! Now!” he shouts again.

I release my grip, knowing that if he fails, I die. With a hard yank, Ikar pulls me back up and into his arms. I shake with nerves and shiver from sweat that has cooled from the high atmosphere and its cooler air. My body feels numb all over. My dress blows up in the front like an enormous balloon again, animal heads flapping around me. I shove it down with a growl, using Jasper and Greta to once again tuck it beneath my legs to maintain some semblance of modesty.

Wordlessly, Ikar wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me close against his chest, placing me snuggly between his strong thighs and opening his coat wider to share his warmth. I should argue and push his arm away. I know we can’t be together like that, but I realize how close to dying I just was, how tired my muscles are, how warm he really is now that I’m here. And I revel in the fact that he came back for me. Admittedly, though, a lot rides on my safe arrival to the city so he can have his magic back. Some of the joy sucks out at that thought.

I’m stuck on top of a terrifying monster, wearing the dress of my nightmares, higher in the sky than I’ve ever wanted to be. I’ve just helped kill two people who were trying to murder us, and I’m still low on money and in over my head with a criminal I never should have arrested, who doesn’t really seem like a criminal at all. It feels good to let everything go for a moment. I breathe in the cold, fresh air. Just a moment. Then I’ll be back to sitting on the neck of the monster, trying to tuck dead animal heads beneath me so they don’t hit me in the face, and will be distant once again from this very warm and handsome bounty, ready to finish the journey to get the bounty reward, save Renna, and free myself from this job.

I finally stop shaking and relax bit by bit, my body and muscles exhausted from stress and nerves, and finally settle my back against his chest. But with every bit of my body that relaxes against him, a different sort of warmth ignites. I’m hyperaware of each strong breath his chest moves with, the way the stubble of his beard catches in my hair. The way the muscles in his arms and legs tighten and move on either side of me as he takes over leading the sharp flyer. This is what I was afraid of, why I sat practically on the creature’s neck to keep my distance. I’m content. Where moments ago I was terrified to be flying so high, now it is a haven, and I never want to land. I lay my head back and revel in the warmth of his coat around me, the smell of leather and a musky scent that’s him . He’s capable and strong, and I feel brave and safe with him. He seems just as comfortable as I.

A thought wiggles its way through my mental wall. Could this criminal be reformed? I’ve heard of it before. I bet he wouldn’t care about my mark, about what I am. With his history, he probably wouldn’t even blink. Maybe, if he chose to live on the right side of the law, we could?—

No. I give myself a mental shake. There is no more than this moment. Enjoy it while it lasts. I gather my wandering, impossible thoughts, tuck them away, and relax a little deeper against him.