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Magic dripped off my fingers, as I was sorely tempted to turn his big horse dong into a shriveled twig.
Ash cleared his throat while pushing ahead of me. “King Cenric. It’s I, Asher Lykaios, son of Kings Adrean and Kylar.” He splayed a hand across his chest, bowing to the centaur he’d called King Cenric.
I grumbled, balling up my fists. My mate shouldn’t have to bow to anyone.
“We’re sorry,” Ash continued, “but we know nothing of this truce. We’ve only just flown in from the Fallax Islands.” He motioned toward the wyverns flying overhead. “We mean the centaurs no harm. My mate and her sister are white witches. We are on a quest to defeat the demons. We have only come seeking food and shelter for the night.”
Cenric crossed his arms over his bare, broad chest. “You’ll find neither with us.”
“Ohh,” I muttered. “He deserves a curse of flatulence.”
Ash reached behind and grabbed my hand. Let’s play nice, he projected. The centaurs could become powerful allies.
I scowled at the centaur, feeling less confident about having such rude beasts as allies. They’d thrown spears at us before giving us a chance to defend ourselves.
“We’ll replenish whatever food we take and then some,” Ash continued, a note of pride in his voice. “My mate can grow you food, just like she did for Cyrene and Dunhull.”
Cenric shook his head, scowling. “We saw what she did in Dunhull, alerted every demon in Caldaria of your attachment to the satyrs and put targets on their backs.”
How rude! “That wasn’t my intention,” I blurted.
The centaur had the nerve to ignore me as he looked back at Ash. “The truce was that no dragons are to enter the fields and forests surrounding Itarian.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “And in return, we don’t kill them.”
Radnor arched back, ruffling his wings. He thinks we’re threatened by a few Terrae.
They will be grit between our paws, Isa answered, laughter ringing in her words as smoke streamed from her snout.
I gave Shiri a look. At least they’re in agreement about something.
Shiri grinned. It’s progress.
The centaurs became restless, kicking at dirt while scowling at Shiri and then at their weapons, which were still on the ground. I could feel the frustration radiating off them as they fought against Shiri’s siren magic.
“Is your dragon challenging us?” Cenric asked Ash, his words coming out like searing arrows. “Kindly remind them our ancestors were renowned dragonslayers.”
Both dragons let out menacing growls, reminding me of rabid cats.
“They understand you,” I blurted, then I flashed Cenric a coy smile. “But perhaps you shouldn’t make threats when you don’t have access to your weapons.”
The centaurs stomped and made all kinds of blustering noises. I rolled my eyes at their false indignation.
“King Cenric!” Helian pushed past us, ignoring Ash calling him back, and walked up to the centaurs.
“Prince Celsus,” Cenric said as he snarled down at Helian’s outstretched hand, refusing to shake.
Helian dropped his hand by his side and plastered on a smile. “You know who I am?”
“Every Fae knows the face of Fachnan’s spawn,” Cenric said on a sneer, as if the very mention of Fachnan’s name left a sour taste on his tongue.
Helian turned up his chin, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Then you know that as the heir to the throne, I’m your sovereign.”
I was embarrassed for Helian, and also furious with the centaur when Cenric tossed back his head, laughing. “Itarian doesn’t take orders from the high Fae of Peloponese. We never have.”
Shiri’s shoulders fell. “We’re wasting time here. Let’s go.”
“You would turn away two goddesses!” Helian wagged a disapproving finger at the centaurs. “We will not forget your treatment. I’ll remember should you ever need our help.”
Cenric puffed up his chest. “The centaurs will never need your help. We take care of ourselves.
