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“So, what is it that’s eating you?” Jon lowered his voice. “Do you sense trouble?”
“I do. But whether it’s something we’ll meet on the road or something at the Mor that’s waiting for us in the guise of our single-minded queen, I don’t know. And that’s the crux of the matter. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something.”
“Enough to make you act more of an ass than normal,” Jon said with a chuckle.
“I haven’t been that bad.”
“Yes, you have.” Sobering, Jon glanced north. “That storm’s barely moving but it will be heading our way soon. Maybe that’s the trouble you’re sensing.”
Fadon looked at the ominous mass of dark gray clouds as well. There were shades of a sickly green in its bulk. “It’s building. It’s going to be a bad one, Ongar knows. Let’s hope that area you spotted will provide enough shelter.”
“And that we get there in time. How’s the wheels coming along?”
Sighing, Fadon looked at where the coach was. Varia was sanding a long piece of wood. Darius was whittling a makeshift peg of some sort.
Feminine laughter from behind him had Fadon searching for its owner. Sierra. Her long golden hair was a tangle of tresses falling down her back. Her feet were bare, the soles dusty as she ran. She was heading for a tree whose branches stood out starkly against the pines, its leaves having fallen off, making it look naked.
Surely she wasn’t going to climb that tree, thought Fadon, watching her intently. He spotted a furry creature peeking out high above the branches, which were moving erratically as the white ball of fluff climbed higher.
“Wait!” Sierra called out to it. And, yes, she was going to climb the tree.
“Where is her watcher?” Fadon asked.
“What?” Jon, sounding confused at first, must have followed Fadon’s stare, tracing it to the tree, where their newly acquired princess began the process of hoisting herself up onto the closest branch. “I’ll go.”
“No, I will.”
Fadon’s boots crunched with purpose as he made his way to the tree. The girl was attempting to stand on the branch, her dirty heels lifting to give her more height. Fadon grabbed her around the waist just in time and tossed her over his shoulder. He had a powerful urge to spank her like she was a wayward child disobeying his orders.
She emitted an “oof,” her hands trying to find purchase but failing. Giving up, she hung limply against Fadon’s naked back.
He set her down on her feet. “Explain.”
She blew out a breath, trying to dislodge blonde strands that had come undone from her braid, sticking to her eyelashes and mouth. “I spotted a lambskin, see,” she began.
“A lambskin.”
“Yes. And I almost had it. But then someone started hammering, and the poor creature got scared, ran to the tree, and I was just about to get him when you came along.”
“Get him from a tree. A lambskin.”
She raised a golden eyebrow. “My lord, are you alright? You keep repeating my words.”
“Lady. Princess. You cannot climb trees,” Fadon said, finding some semblance of patience deep within.
Her eyes brightened. “Oh, but I can! I’m stronger than I look, I assure you.”
There was a little chirping sound from above them. Sierra looked up, her face alight with joy.
“I see you, little demon. Please come down!” she called to it.
“Princess,” Fadon tried again, “Look at me. Thank you. I’m sure you are capable of all manner of things, but I will not allow you to endanger yourself. Especially not for some rodent. Do you understand?”
Her brow furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes at him. The expression was so endearing that Fadon almost laughed. Almost.
“My lord, lambskins are not rodents. They are marsupials.”
“What?” Fadon deadpanned.
