Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(18)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Achilles was teaching me a one-on-one board game called ricken that was a lot like chess but far more violent. In other words, every piece had a weapon and when you took it, you snapped the weapon off. Apparently “servants” mended the pieces when you were done playing, though I didn’t know how since they started out exquisitely carved and didn’t look mended.

I asked and Achilles didn’t know how either so I was getting what “servants” got up to didn’t concern their masters, just as long as they got up to it.

By the way, I sucked at ricken.

Also by the way, Achilles thought this was hysterically funny, as did Draven and Hans, who often watched, shook their heads and grinned at me with every move I made (you will note, they shook their heads and grinned, but they didn’t give me any advice).

But all the men were teaching me tuble, a card game that was a game of chance. We played it in the evenings after dinner. And I was good at that.

They were also teaching me how to cheat, which apparently you were supposed to do.

I was great at that.

And now they were giving me Benies.

Needless to say, the last few days had been better than the first few by, like, a lot.

This one the best of all.

And I didn’t want it to end.

So I had a feeling my eyes were beseeching when I looked up at Derrik and awaited his reply.

He continued to look down his nose at me with his clear blue eyes and I held my breath.

Then he murmured, “We’ll take you to dine at Le Pont de L’eau.”

I leaned back, clapped my hands and cried, “Yay!”

He smiled indulgently at me.

“Bloody brilliant,” Laures muttered. “Best veal in Benies.”

“Forget the veal, best whiskey in Benies,” Hans, also muttering, put in.

They were already moving to the elegant, shiny black carriage that brought me here (I rode alone, they rode their horses beside it) as I felt Derrik’s hand on my elbow.

When I looked back to him, it slid down the inside of my forearm and his big hand curled around mine bringing it up and tucking it close to the side of his chest. And hence, tucking me close to his side as he directed us to the carriage.

It felt nice holding hands and being tucked beside a protective hot guy in a beautiful city in a parallel universe, so I went with it.

“Also the best views, madam, of Benies and the Marhac Sea,” he said softly, his eyes on me. “It’s right on the water and elevated four stories.”

“Yay,” I replied softly back and his dancing eyes danced brighter.

I grinned at him then smiled at the carriage where Achilles was standing, holding open the door and also smiling at me.

Yes, this was the best day here by far.

And they kept getting better.

* * * * *

Achilles

“Oh my God, no!”

Achilles heard Ilsa’s voice as he approached the door to the kitchen, seeing Derrik standing in it leaning against the jamb, his back to Achilles.

He stopped behind Derrik but to his side, looking in and seeing Ilsa sitting on a stool and leaning on her forearms on the battered kitchen table, listening, or more to the point, watching with rapt attention as one of the maids acted something out.

There were a few halting words spoken, as Ilsa was picking up Fleuridian by the day, but mostly it was wild gesticulations, a parody of a mime which was already a parody so he could see within seconds it was amusing.

He watched as all the other maids standing around as well as Ilsa burst out laughing, Ilsa doing it banging her fist on the table and dropping her forehead to it.

She threw her head back suddenly and cried out, “That’s too funny!”

All the maids nodded and smiled at her with big smiles even though they probably didn’t know what she was saying. Or maybe they did, picking up the language of the Vale through Ilsa.

Achilles turned his head to look at Derrik who was watching this, or more likely, watching Ilsa with even more rapt attention than Ilsa had been watching the story mimed out.

“Hans says her seat on a horse is secure,” Achilles noted in a quiet voice.

Derrik started and turned his head to catch Achilles’ eyes.

“He’s reported this to me.”

“We were to be away three weeks ago,” Achilles reminded him.

“She’s enjoying herself,” Derrik replied and Achilles took in a short breath.

Then he got closer and his voice dipped lower. “It’s our charge to get her to safety.”

“She has eight guards and Apollo explained he’s relatively certain the witch from the other world watches over her,” Derrik returned.

“Relatively certain is not certain and his orders are to get her to Ulfr grounds as soon as possible,” Achilles retorted.

Derrik held his eyes.

Then he lifted his chin.

After that, he turned his eyes back to the kitchen and muttered, “We’ll leave the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow we take madam back to Benies one last time. She’s enjoyed her days there.”

He was right. She had. All four of them.

Achilles stifled a sigh but not his misgivings.

He would have to keep a sharp eye.

His gaze moved to the kitchen and he saw Ilsa was looking at them.

She lifted her hand and gave them an enthusiastic wave.

And, damn it all, along with Derrik, he lifted his hand and waved back.

* * * * *

Laures

Laures turned his steed and dug his heels in so the horse was at a gallop.

When he did, he saw Maddie—what they now called Ilsa instead of “madam” so they didn’t have to address her formally nor call her by her twin’s name. Her skirts were lifted in one hand, her parasol in the other bobbing over her head, her feet taking her across the arena toward him, her glorious hair streaming out behind her.

At the sight, he forgot the pain the blows he took from his competitor’s blunt sword caused and he grinned.

She came to a teetering halt beside him as he pulled up his reins and she lifted her free hand high, palm facing him, while crying, “You won!”

He had.

How he got entered in the games they’d happened on, he didn’t know. Then again, as they rode over Fleuridia, they’d stayed for a fayre in Aisles they were not scheduled to attend. And also, after they crossed into Hawkvale, they’d been roped into attending a sheep shearing festival in Drinton upon which they had no time to waste. But they did.

“Don’t leave me hanging!” she exclaimed.

“Pardon?” he asked.

She shook her hand in the air. “High five!”