Molly (2 page)

Riven nearly smirked at the thought, knowing full well her condition wasn’t the concern. His lord had wanted this child above all others, certain the girl’s stubbornness and bizarre outlook were somehow a sign of what she would produce. Had Riven any question about the idea, it was quashed by his orders to hide her in their most secure location.

He was a faithful warrior; he had never challenged his king. But this commission was testing him.

“And he will be strong,” Molly carried on, her posture so different from that of the girl he’d found in the southern forests. Her tone was haughty, as if she’d been born a crowned head. “I’m certain his eyes will be hazel, as my father’s are.”

Riven scanned the clearing, using all of his senses in the search.

“Ah, my father,” she continued, “he has no idea of my good fortune. I have often wondered what transpired there after I left. Had the villagers searched far enough, they would have found the muddy prints on the far bank.” She paused to consider their reaction, sure they’d be convinced she had run off after her father's demand of marriage. But she didn’t relish the thought of him in pain. She forced a laugh. “No, I’m certain they found my book of tales and decided the fairies spirited me away.”

Her hand fluttered in the air and Riven resisted the urge to break her fingers.

They stopped and he dismounted his horse, pulling his pack with him. Molly stared pointedly at him until he assisted her down from her own. When he pulled her pack down as well, he snapped a command at the horses and they crossed the clearing in a trot, then disappeared into the trees.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded.

“We continue from here on foot.”

Molly’s mouth fell open in shock, but she quickly schooled her features.
Not long
, she thought,
not long and I will be treated as a queen
. She unwrapped the shoulder sling at her side and helped the small pup down for some exercise. She’d not given him much attention over the last weeks, though he’d been her only real companion. The elves seemed pleased to have her, but they weren’t exactly sociable. Until she had a child, she was certain the pup was her only source of true loyalty.

When she looked up, Riven threw her a hunk of dried meat. The pup bounced excitedly, so she slid it into a waist pocket to eat later, where she could discreetly share with him.

Without a word, Riven began walking. Molly picked up the pup, wrestled him back into his carrier, and pressed her forearm against the bag to settle him as she hurried to catch up.

He had a long stride.

They walked for nearly an hour before the exertion began to be too much for Molly. She pushed the hood of her cloak back and the chill breeze prickled the damp skin of her neck. She tilted her head back and flapped the material of her blouse to let the wind reach more skin.

The sky was beautiful, blue and endless. A hawk circled lazily, far above them. Molly stumbled on a rock and brought her eyes back to the ground to watch her footing. Riven hadn’t seemed to notice, but the pup at her side groaned at the disturbance of his nap.

A dull thump sounded a short distance to her right, but before she had a chance to look, she walked into Riven’s back. He’d stopped in his tracks; he was looking toward the noise. Molly's eyes followed his. Her head cocked to one side as she realized it was the hawk. It had fallen out of the sky.

Suddenly, she was jerked off her feet as Riven started to run. He had a death grip on her; she wasn’t able to look behind them. When she looked forward, there was nothing but a tree line in the distance. She had no idea where they were going, what was happening, but Riven’s reaction spiked unadulterated fear in her.

And then he stopped running. His chest heaved as he dropped Molly to her feet beside him. He released his grip on her but she stood, frozen. Riven stared on as they were descended upon, his arms and shoulders braced.

The first to approach were ethereal, tall and thin, silvery robes beneath their cloaks. Molly stared at them in awe. They stopped several feet away and spoke to Riven. But Molly couldn’t focus on their words because she’d seen two wolves in the distance. Beasts.

There was a commotion in front of her, low, angry words, and she turned back to find more elves confronting Riven. The newest arrivals were warrior-like, with the same otherworldly beauty as Riven. Dark hair and eyes, strong, muscular builds. She might have mistaken them for more of Asher’s guard, except she’d seen no other address Riven as they did now.

Two cold words escaped one particularly large elf and she meant to focus on him, but Riven had dropped beside her. Her eyes fell to him, but there was nothing but a lumpy pile of material where he’d stood.

His cloak.

Face ashen, mouth agape, she looked back to the gathered mob, certain of her doom. Their grim faces reinforced that theory and she swallowed hard, eyes wide. She felt the breeze hit her face one last time.

“Stop!”

For a moment, Molly thought the voice was her own. But it wasn’t. She found the source of the command, staring back at her with the same shocked, fearful expression she wore herself.

She was a small, striking woman, but mirrored Molly in only age and stature. Her hair was dark, her eyes lush green. There was something about her that wasn’t quite human, Molly thought. And then, she realized the force with which the very large, very strong elf was holding the woman back. Molly’s gaze fell on his face then, as he stared down at the dark beauty. His jaw was tight, he nearly seemed to be in pain. And then he nodded. Molly recognized it as a command to one of the other elves, and she steadied herself for her assured fate. The breeze picked up again, a gust of wind hitting her square in the face, stealing her last breath.

She thought she heard a whispered “no” as she closed her eyes.

And then nothing happened. It may have only been moments, she’d lost all track of time since Riven had started running, but she opened her eyes to find the pair again. His eyes searched the woman’s face, and she seemed to be asking him for something. Begging.

After a long instant, he turned from the woman, face hard, and gestured to one of the others. Calling off the order.

Molly gasped in air, her knees weak, her hands trembling. Her frantic gaze fell back to the woman just in time to see her flushed skin go pale, her eyes roll back into her head. Dimly, she recognized the woman was having a seizure, or maybe fainting, and thought the same might come of her shortly. She lowered herself to the ground, shaking, but couldn’t keep her eyes off the band of elves. They surrounded the woman, a wild redhead and the elf that had held her back earlier were holding the woman, easing her violently quaking body to the ground.
No, definitely not fainting
, Molly thought. The redhead looked worried, but the other, the elf whose expression had been so severe before, his face melted into pain as he stared at the woman. He pulled her from the redhead, cradling her trembling body in his arms to calm her. It was a restraint. It was an embrace.

Molly’s breath caught. She realized she was crying.

She realized she was alive.

It was some time before Molly’s brain began to operate properly again. She knew she had been moved, she was mildly aware of the goings on around her, but the passage of time had become fuzzy. When she’d rested, been settled onto a blanket, been given a canteen, that was when things started to clear up again. She couldn’t say it was a sense of security. After weeks with Asher’s guard, she wasn’t that naive. But she didn’t think they planned to kill her. Not immediately, anyway.

The elves had assembled a camp, built a fire, and paced around. A lot. Molly had been watching them without realizing she’d been doing so, slowly grasping what was happening around her. The tall, white-haired elves were no longer in the camp. The rest, the large, frightening one, the wiry one that seemed to be always moving, and the handsome, cheerful one, appeared to be doing what Molly’s father had called “busy work.” The other handsome, definitely not cheerful one and the redhead were sitting by the dark-haired woman, who had yet to recover. Those two had barely spared Molly a glance, except when the redhead occasionally shot her an accusatory glance, though Molly couldn’t understand exactly what she was being accused of.

She knew they’d killed one of Asher’s head guards. She didn’t dare let on her purpose, why she’d been with Riven, or that it had been voluntary. But they hadn’t asked, either. In fact, they had barely spoken to her at all.

A grumbled complaint came from the bundle at Molly’s side. She pulled the last of the dried meat from her pocket and slid it toward the pouch. The pup’s head poked out, anxiously sniffing until it located the source in Molly's hand.

She started when someone approached her. She looked up from her spot on the blanket to see the tall, handsome elf. The cheerful one.

As he stared down at her, or rather at her pup, Molly realized maybe cheerful had been a stretch. He was indeed smiling, but a slow, sexy smile. She glanced quickly to the other handsome one, the one watching the dark-haired woman, and decided she’d have to stick with Cheerful and Not Cheerful, as both were exceedingly, unnaturally, attractive. The group spoke little and had yet to call each other by name. She wasn’t about to ask.

A low laugh escaped the elf beside her and her eyes automatically returned to him. She would have to try to quit gawking.

He lowered himself to squat, and reached out to roll a hand over the pup’s head. This caused the young dog to feign back and then bounce excitedly. He was playing with her pup. A nervous laugh bubbled up from Molly’s chest and she nearly choked on it.

“What do you call him?” The elf’s eyes connected with her own as he spoke and she lost her voice, her breath, for a moment.

“I... Uh, I don’t have... Haven’t named him yet.” There. She’d gotten it out. She’d been in the company of elves for weeks, had grown accustomed to at least those of Asher’s guard who didn’t outwardly show their distaste toward her, but she’d been certain this new group would cut her down as they had Riven. It had taken a toll on her confidence.

Cheerful was watching her.

His smile had the slightest twist to it, just one side, and she wondered if he was amused. “Well, it seems he should have a name. Do you think?”

Molly nodded, still not quite able to return a grin.

“We shall work on that,” he said confidently.

She decided that did not sound like something someone would say if they were planning to kill her and the tension in her chest released with a long sigh.

He noticed. But, before he had a chance to comment, Molly’s attention was drawn once more across the camp to the other woman.

Molly realized then that she’d heard Not Cheerful and the redhead talking to the dark-haired woman in low tones, just about since when Cheerful had settled beside her. Just about when the others had stationed themselves closer to her. The woman had woken and, apparently, wasn’t very happy about something. There was a bit of commotion, and then, suddenly, the redhead had a hold of the woman’s wrists as she and Not Cheerful glared at each other. At this point, Molly considered renaming Not Cheerful “Murderous Rage.”

Cheerful cleared his throat, a decidedly un-elf-like noise from what Molly had gathered, and spoke again, as if to distract her. “He will be quite large,” he said as he raised one of the puppy’s heavy paws. Molly had noticed this before, as well as the dog’s ravenous appetite. When his paw was released, the pup raised both again in an attempt to regain the elf’s attention. Cheerful rolled easily to his hip, kicking a bent leg out and leaning over to an elbow beside the pup, who took this action as a great victory and leapt toward the elf’s outstretched hand for more play.

The elf smirked and she suddenly had the oddest suspicion. None of the elves she’d met had been so casual. And here he sat, creating silly names for her pet. Not even asking her name. Not giving his own. Not any of theirs.

She looked toward the others. Something about each of them seemed to push Molly’s gaze to fall on the woman. The woman with constant protectors. It reminded her of Asher. His guard.

The next day, the group was quiet as they departed camp. The horse Molly had been given was calm and steady, so, though she hadn’t spent much time ahorse, she was able to relax and take in her surroundings. She didn’t recognize anything. The ground was damp, but too peppered with rock to be muddy. The air was chill, the mountain looming behind them, black and ominous. A heavy fog hung near its top, clouding the sun and adding to the air of threat. Molly pulled her cloak tighter around her and shifted the pouch to cradle the pup in front of her.

She realized the wiry elf was watching her. Being watched wasn’t unusual for her as of late, but it was generally Cheerful, not the others, none of whom seemed to like her. At all. She looked back at the elf for a moment, lean and handsome, an inexplicable quickness about him, even in stillness. His skin was flawless, his eyes as dark and rich as the bark of the roca pine. He wore a wary expression, saturated with distaste, and Molly averted her gaze. She knew he had an easy smile, she’d seen it. But it was only for the redhead.