Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 8 Riverside Retreat

Ephraim

“Oh, finally, you’re awake!”

Kidnapping, apparently, makes a kidnapper and his hostage into strange bedfellows.

Tommy, which is preferable to Tomlyn, sounds happy to see me. Apparently, he’s been awake for quite some time. I’m not sure how long he’s been awake, but by the time I find him, he’s waist-deep at the shallow edge of the river. His shirt, boots, and shortswords are dumped in a messy heap on one of the flat rocks near the shore.

“What in the hells are you doing?”

He laughs, still peering into the water. “An elf cannot live on nuts and berries alone. I’m fishing.”

“You are missing some of the integral equipment for fishing. Namely, a rod.”

“Ah, that’s quitter talk, E,” he says cheerfully. Then he swears as his foot slips and he submerges all at once. His head pops back up a second later. “Soft spot, I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, trust me, I was terribly worried,” I reply, moving towards the river’s edge.

He chuckles, spitting out a stream of water. “You could at least try and act the part, cutie.” The lazy grin he gives me is infuriating. “Anyway, gimme a moment, I’ll come to you.”

He moves back to a sturdier place to stand, emerging from the water.

I can’t help it. My eyes are immediately drawn down to his torso. It’s seriously a work of art.

When I started my latest novel, which is probably halfway back to Yaventown by now, I thought it was gauche for the author to refer to Aneas’ body as ‘rippling’. It seemed overdone. Trite, maybe.

But now, standing in front of Tommy, rippling is the first thought that comes to my mind. His shoulders are broad, and his lats spread like wings as he smooths his hair back from his forehead. He turns to move towards me, catching his breath and stealing mine.

His muscles pull and push against each other, and indeed ‘ripple’ as he fights against the water to return to the bank. Further down his torso, the lean cuts of his muscle over his hips draw my eyes lower, lower still.

He takes a deep breath, and I still can’t catch mine. The muscled column of his torso narrows further, trapping a few water droplets between each tight row of abdominals.

But the masterwork of his chest ties it all together. The dense, rounded muscle of his chest flexes and tenses as he wipes a few reeds off him. The freshwater vegetation drops away to reveal the tattoo that whirls in soft wispy lines on his chest. The white ink highlights every muscle group, the individual lines knotted with hundreds of tiny white spheres of ink. They curl and fold in on themselves, like a spider’s web, curving in all the best places to make him pop.

He looks powerful, like a weapon honed and ready to strike.

“I’m going to start charging you money, you know,” Tommy says.

I snap out of my stupor, and look back to his face, where his grin has gone from lazy to wicked. Looking at his sharp jawline and that smirk, and all of a sudden, I’m burning from the inside out. I turn around, trying not to let my lust run away with my common sense, trying not to think of him leaning over me, pinning me down, like Aneas pinned down Drakon.

“Seriously? Is anyone home in there?”

“I’m simply making sure you aren’t injured.”

He chuckles, giving me one last flex, pulling his arm back behind his head and making his biceps jump and peak. Gods above and below, what is wrong with me? “I’m perfect, but thanks for the concern. Now, if you’d like to go over there and make some noise, maybe I can actually catch some breakfast.”

Breathe, Ephraim, breathe. After a few moments, I rally and try and speak. “This still seems ill-advised. I’m sure we can find something in the woods that would be easier to catch than a fish without a rod or a net.”

Tommy shakes his head and leans over, bending away from me enough to show off the lean muscle of his back. “Nah, checked my traps again this morning. We got lucky last night, but I think the rabbits got spooked.”

He wades back in. In an effort to take my mind off of his narrow waist and broad shoulders, I move a little farther downriver as instructed and step in, kicking up enough silt to scare up some fish.

“So, did you sleep well?” he says.

“You care how I slept?”

“Ouch. I mean, I know we’re kind of stuck together, but we don’t have to be mean to each other, right? Normal people typically care about each other’s days.”

I’m sorry, but is this criminal really calling me conceited? After trying to kidnap me? Honestly! I set a hand on my hip, staring him down.

“My apologies for not understanding this cute tradition from the lower classes. Help me out, do you typically ask people you’ve stolen from how the weather is treating them? Or the people you mug how their children are getting on?”

He sighs theatrically. “I don’t normally steal or mug people. This was a one-time job. And a stupid one-time job at that. Don’t be rude.”

I open my mouth to snap back at him and then recall my own words. Perhaps… perhaps I was being rude. I start to say something in response, but Tommy has already forgotten, turning to pounce at something under the water. He strikes with brutal speed, pouncing on the spot and returning with a fish flopping between his hands. “Eh! See! No net required.”

“That one is too bony for eating, I’m afraid. We’d waste more of the fish than we’d eat without fillet knives or tweezers.”

Tommy sighs, turning the fish to face him. “Your execution is stayed—lucky you.” he gives the fish a solemn nod, and then tosses it back into the river.

“So, if you don’t normally steal from people, what do you do?”

“See, I hear that tone in your voice. It doesn’t lead to a very interesting conversation. Besides, I’m not as dumb as I look. I’m not going to make the noose around my neck any tighter than it already is.”

I scoff, turning back to my work of causing a commotion. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”

“It’s early yet. I’ll blow myself out of the water before noon.”

The morning passes slowly. Every few minutes, he goes splashing after another fish. His reflexes are impressive, but he’s only catching one small bony fish at a time.

Finally, Tommy gives up. “To hell with it,” he mutters, and moves back to the shore. I lean down to pull my foot out of the mud and when I turn back, Tommy is tossing a net into the river.

“Did you have that the whole time?”

“I can’t give away all my secrets,” Tommy says.

After a few more minutes of stunted silence, Tommy pulls up four fresh trout.

I set to work on cleaning them quickly. I want to tease him, wondering if the self-proclaimed city elf has ever cleaned or prepared fish, but I also don’t want him to spoil one to try out a new skill.

We’ll have to set aside time for teasing later.

Wait, what? What am I talking about? I shake off that thought, and finish putting together a serviceable breakfast, fighting my own thoughts the whole way.

~*~

We move on from the camp quickly after we eat, starting to make our way to the cabin. The walk is more difficult than the last day or so of travel, so Tommy focuses on checking for larger predators and I bring up the rear, keeping an eye on the sun to make sure we don’t get lost. Again.

The sun soon reaches its highest point and my gaze starts to wander further out. I know the cabin in which these ne’er-do-wells have secluded themselves. It’s an old woodsman’s estate that was never reclaimed. People used to claim it was haunted, which is all nonsense, but now they treat it as a waypoint, an equidistance between my family’s forest and the first farms you’d encounter outside of Yaventown. It’s large enough to hold a good number of people at once, if needed. A fine place for a large hunting party. Or a large gathering of bandits.

While the woods are charming, between us and said bandits the wildlife are skittish, so it’s been relatively peaceful. I have plenty of time to think about all the things that I would be doing right now, if I hadn’t been kidnapped.

During this point in the day, I’m usually in the white garden, under the gazebo, reading through petitions from the farmers and enjoying a light herbal tea. But would I be doing that? Or would I have been fighting with my uncle about this necklace? The necklace that I immediately lost after stepping a foot outside of the city.

Perhaps being lost in the woods is better for the moment. Besides, the company isn’t all bad.

I keep finding myself drawn to Tommy. I seem to have memorized his footsteps, the long, sprawling gait that is both lazy and practical. His steps are sure and his soft humming is a nice baritone that has a good resonance.

I have been swooning over Lady Emeria since I left Yaventown, but during these duller moments, I can’t help but think about Tommy. My kidnapper, my rescuer. Especially in the warmth of the summer, my mind wanders, thinking about him sitting next to me in the white garden, his shirt slightly opened, those gorgeous red eyes following me.

I am so caught up in my little waking daydream that I don’t realize he’s stopped moving until I run straight into his back.

He steadies me, and I notice that his face has gone severe, so unlike the genial, joking fellow that he normally is.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He gives a slight nod of his head, acknowledging that he hears me but doesn’t reply. He simply points to the side, and then presses two fingers to his lips. That translates, even if I don’t understand the signal. Something is waiting for us.

Tommy’s posture shifts in an instant. Instead of the lackadaisical sort that he was before, he now moves with the poise of a hunter, something almost feline about the way he moves.

He motions for me to move towards one of the large live oak trees, its boughs touching down in a semicircle that offers moderate protection. I take a step back, and he starts for the tree line as soon as he sees I’m safe.

I huff, setting my hand on my quarterstaff. I can handle myself perfectly fine. I can help . If he was honestly so concerned for my safety, then why—

Tommy stalks back out, eyes wide but hands steady as he wrestles a giant white bird out of the bushes.

With the webbed feet and the overextended wingspan, it reminds me of the seabirds back home. It’s much too large and too pale to live in the Thatch. I’d never seen anything like it. Tommy hurls the bird to the ground with no regard for injuring it.

“Tommy! You can’t attack wild animals!”

“It’s not an animal,” he snarls, moving forward to slash at one of its wings. A spray of bright red blood immediately stains his shirt as the bird tries to flap off. “It’s a druid!”

I turn back to the bird as it starts to shake out of its feathers, growing in size until it takes the shape of an elf with skin the color of bleached bones, his dark gray eyes haunting. He’s covered in black markings that swirl around his shoulders and mark his face. His arm is still dripping blood. But his eyes focus hard on Tommy.

“Benny’s gonna hear about this, Baker,” he snaps.

Tommy, Tomlyn, Baker, whoever he is, goes running after him. He’s pumping his legs hard to catch up, but the druid is faster, darting and then taking off through the woods, sprinting out of Tommy’s grasp. Soon both elves are out of sight of my little shelter.

“You can’t leave me here!” I call after him, charging through the woods as fast I can without turning an ankle. It’s almost impossible to keep up with either elf, as they move with preternatural speed. Honestly. Elves .

But the druid shakes us both, shifting into a squirrel and darting into the canopy, out of sight in seconds.

Tommy swears again in frustration and turns to me, stalking back the way we came. “Okay, new plan, we get out of here as fast as possible. You’ll have to get your crown jewels back another time.”

“What? Why?”

“Because that was one of Benny’s Dozen. And we’ve been spotted.”

“Made? It was one elf, and you seemed to handle him pretty well in the brush.”

“That’s because Mithrai didn’t want to fight. He wants to go get reinforcements. So we need to not be here by the time he brings his friends.”

“You know this druid?”

“By association. He’s part of a gang in town, one of the nastier ones. And I don’t want to be sitting around here when they come back. We get you back behind your castle walls, and I lie low until I know they’re not running after me anymore.”

“What? No! We’re not going to run away. I need that necklace.”

“It’s just rocks. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of them back where you’re from,” Tommy snorts and keeps moving.

I do not keep moving; instead, I turn back in the direction we were moving before.

It takes him about a minute to realize I’m not following him. “E, what are you doing?”

“This is where we part ways,” I mutter, indignant. I don’t need this Karstian. I can track the broken branches to mark my path back. “If you don’t want to help me, then fine. I need that necklace back.”

“E, you can’t fight them. I know you’re good with your little staff—”

I freeze, turning back to him. “Little? Seriously?”

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, that was rude. I meant—”

“Oh, I know what you meant.” My cheeks burn as I whip my head back around, my steps getting more aggressive. “Little nebbish lordling, right? I’m nothing compared to you scoundrels.”

“I don’t even know what nebbish means, but no. I meant, you’ve always fought for fun, for sport. This will be fighting for your life, and it’s different .”

“I can handle myself,” I snap. “It’s not about the value of the gems in the necklace. It’s about the necklace itself. It’s irreplaceable. And I will take it back with you or without you. So either you can come, or I will go on my own.”

“Can you not just trust me?”

“I don’t trust you. I don’t know anything about you.”

Tommy stops behind me. “So my name isn’t enough?”

The first throb of a headache starts behind my eyes. I do not have time for this criminal to feel bad. I suppose I’ll toss him a bone. “It’s a start. Helping me with this will go a long way towards earning my trust. And maybe a pardon.”

My bandit, my captor, the one who picked me up like a sack of potatoes not two days ago and seemed so strong and sure. Now his shoulders are slumped, and he’s curled in on himself, clearly wounded. For an elf that’s well over six feet tall, he looks so vulnerable. I taste my last words, and the first pangs of guilt slow me in my tracks. “Tommy…”

“Go on, lead the way. I’ll get us lost, anyway. If it’s a choice between the noose or a sword, I guess at least I’ll go out fighting.” With that, he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts to follow me.

The silence is uncomfortable now, only interrupted by the crunch of our feet across the dry underbrush. As the druid’s trail disappears, I make out the first landmark on the way to the cabin, a half-fallen tree across a small pond. From here, I can reorient us and start confidently in the right direction, heading south.

Tommy isn’t humming, isn’t doing much of anything. Occasionally he darts into the brush, but he comes back empty-handed each time, unable to meet my gaze.

I break first. I can’t stand him like this. “What are they like? These gangsters?”

“Bad news,” he says with a shrug, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hopefully we’ll only have to deal with two or three of them. They make up some of the nastiest fighters, mages, and killers from the Trunk. Mithrai, the guy from earlier, I’ve seen him tear out people’s throats in hawk form from forty feet up before, screaming mad as anything as he dives to earth. There’s a bunch of cutthroats. Big bruisers that make me look small, fast mean little bitches who’ll slice your throat before you even know they’ve found you. It’s best to stay on their good side.”

“Well, I’m glad I have you for protection. I saw you with those oafs from earlier,” I say, trying to bring his spirits up. But Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s different. Those guys I was with? Bottom of the barrel compared to the ones we’ll see.”

“Well, they won’t be expecting me and you. We’ll have the advantage if we can meet Mithrai there, right?”

Tommy spins it around in his mind. “It takes him energy to shift, and the bigger or smaller his form gets, the more energy it takes to hold it. If he shifts into something small, he won’t be able to hold it for long.”

“Wonderful. We follow him in, and then we ensnare him, and we take a trade: their man for my things.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, they’ll definitely want that, instead of, I don’t know, killing me, ransoming you off and taking your necklace anyway. But sure. We can give it a shot.”

“I’m sorry, do you have a better idea?”

Tommy grunts in frustration, his jaw working for a moment, before he finally relents. “Lead the way, M’lord.”