Lupi 04 - Night Season

she’d mainlined a fire-and-ice slushy. And she said, “Oh, you’re busy. Well, this will just take a minute.” She strode forward, fire and ice fizzing in her veins.
    Cullen was naked from the waist up. So was the elf-woman clinging to him. He had turned to look at her when the door opened, his eyes heavy and dazed. One of his hands covered one of the woman’s dinky little breasts…perfect, dinky little breasts. The elf-woman had turned her head, too, but immediately dismissed Cynna, going back to what she’d been doing. Licking Cullen’s neck.
    Big mistake.
    Four strides and she swung into a crescent kick, her back leg swinging out and up, the inside ankle aimed for elf-bitch’s face.
    Cullen blinked—and went into fast-forward. He blurred , dammit, moving impossibly fast to shield the elf-bitch with his body while his arms swung up, executing a perfect forearm block.
    The ball of Cynna’s foot smashed into his left forearm. He didn’t follow through with the sweep that might have overbalanced her, so she used her momentum to pivot and come at the bitch again.
    She wasn’t there. A second ago she’d been standing smugly behind Cullen, her lovely lip curling in disgust. Now she just…wasn’t.

TWENTY-ONE
    T HE chancellor’s barge was way different from the one they’d been on before. They were headed downriver now, and the river had narrowed some, so the current was strong and fast. The barge was hitched to a pair of sea oxen, but they were as much for steering as for propulsion.
    It was a luxurious vessel compared to the other one. The wood was dark and polished to a fare-thee-well, with intricate carving everywhere some gnome had found a spot to stick a knife. There were cabins, too, thank God, though even the ones supposedly sized for non-gnomes were tiny. Cynna had one to herself. Most of the others had to double up, and some slept out on the deck.
    They were a large party. Tash led a small squad of the guard—always referred to in the singular for some reason—for their protection. Wen was along to keep the Ekiba comm channel open, and Bilbo had brought three more gnomes along. Cynna didn’t know who or what they were. She’d been given titles to address them by, but what did “Third Assistant of the Red Jasper Collar” mean? Privately, she thought of them as Huey, Dewey, and Louie.
    Her father was here, too.
    That had come as a shock. Daniel Weaver said he wanted to be with her, get to know her. He hoped he would be useful; he was fluent in Common Tongue and had some understanding of three more of the languages here. He knew the customs and the politics. He worked for the chancellor, yes, but at the moment that office was vacant—though that was a deep, dark secret from the rest of their world.
    At the moment, he was in the stateroom he shared with Wen. It was late, so they were probably sleeping. Timms was on the other side of the superstructure housing the staterooms. He was teaching Gan to play poker. Every so often she heard Gan yell in triumph or anger. The former demon was not a good loser.
    Tash and three of the guard were bedded down on the deck—no cushy bunks for the guard, it seemed. The other four were looking alert and menacing in their medieval-meets-goth garb. Bilbo and Louie had retired, leaving Huey and Dewey still talking at the big table at the aft—or was it the stern? Anyway, the back of the boat. Everyone had eaten at a big table there earlier, then spread out maps to discuss their route.
    Not that Cynna knew their route beyond “thataway.” The medallion had gone at least fifty miles farther downriver than they were now, but she’d have to check again and again, resetting her “dial,” to follow it. Still, the session with the maps had been useful; she knew more about Edge geography now.
    She really ought to go catch some sleep herself. Instead she stood at the rail near the bow, staring out at the heavy darkness. Clouds had wiped out the sky, leaving them only their running lights, the personal mage lights of those who, like her, didn’t see well in darkness, and the occasional sparkle from other river craft.
    â€œI still had my pants on,” Cullen said from behind her.
    Her hands clenched into fists. She jammed them into the pockets of her duster. Hadn’t she known she should go to bed? She really should start listening to herself.
    â€œI know