"The Witch of the Wood. Lord knows I've heard them whisper it often enough. Sometimes the Red Witch. They all think the only reason I am able to live alone in these woods is because I hold magic. You mean you've really never heard such rumors from those at the Glass Tower?"
He laughed low and deep, the sound traveling through her with a delightful shiver. "First, I must tell you that I don't talk to people. I despise most people, so I avoid them as often as I can."
"So you're not fond of chit-chat."
"Bloody hell, no."
She couldn't suppress her laughter. "And do you dislike the vampire soldiers you used to command? Or is it the aristocrats and royalty that bother you? Or perhaps the peasants?"
"I hate them all equally. I prefer to be alone."
"But now you're training all those men. You must never be alone."
"That's different. When I'm at work, I'm employed in something useful."
"So you mean to tell me that you never enjoyed the grand balls at the Glass Tower?"
"I'd rather have slit my throat than attend any of them. But as Marius's personal guard at such events, I had to."
"That's a shame."
"What is?" They passed through a clearing, the sky opening up and shining more light on his grave brow.
"Only that I think you would probably look rather dashing in your formal attire. I'm sure you disappointed many a young lady," she teased, uncertain why she chose to spill her thoughts as they popped into her head. Something about Nikolai was so easy. And yet so hard, at the same time.
Their hands touched on the next stride, giving her a quick shock. She swallowed her sudden gasp. If he heard, which surely he did, he made no note of it. Once more, her pulse quickened at his nearness.
"You know, I once had a little boy in Hiddleston come up to me and ask if I conjured up the hartstone."
He gripped her arm. "Watch that fallen branch."
While helping her over, he let go of her arm, his hand ghosting to the small of her back where he applied slight pressure. The small touch scrambled her wits to the wind.
"And what did you tell him?" he asked.
"What? Tell who?"
He chuckled. "The boy."
"Oh." Inhaling a deep breath, she focused her gaze ahead, the path barely discernible. "What else could I tell him?" She spoke in her scratchy, witchy voice, "Why of course I do. Every full moon, my boy. And the wolves howl. And the fairies rise from their bowers, then we dance in a round, breathing in the powerful magic of the hartstone."
She could hear him smiling when he said, "I imagine he was quite frightened by your reply."
"Terrified. Precious little boy. Though I never saw him again."
"I wonder why ever not?"
The woods opened up to the connecting field leading into Hiddleston. Sienna paused at the edge while Nikolai walked on. He stopped and returned to her.
"What is wrong?"
She glanced back, then toward the golden lights of the village. "The truth is, I am not a witch."
"Of course not."
"But I do feel these woods are a part of me. There is … protection for me here."
Nikolai stepped close, unclasped her cloak and flipped it inside out so that the black lining was on the outside. Apparently, he hadn't missed anything between her and Volkov. He then placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb pressing along the side of her neck where he brushed against her pulse gently. A warm comfort. "I am your protector while you are away from your home. I will not let any harm come to you."
Laden with heavy sincerity, his voice reached inside of Sienna and gripped her heart with a tight embrace. How these simple words-which meant nothing more than he was doing his job for the Black Lily-could compel her to want to step into his arms and burrow into his chest, she couldn't explain. Swallowing her sudden urge to be near him, intimately near him, she gave him a stiff nod.
"Good," he said, lifting his hand away but not before brushing his thumb along her collarbone. "Then let us get you to your first recruit rally. The Black Lily needs you."
With a nod, she stepped in line beside him, relieved to have avoided answering his question about why she'd left Dale's Peak.
Chapter Five
The Bull's Head tavern was on the farthest tip of Hiddleston, where a rougher lot milled about well past midnight. Scantily clad women cackled on the corner. One of them, who bared her leg clear up to her thigh through a slit in her dress, tipped her ample bosom forward as they walked by.