Fox's Bride by A.E. Marling Page B

squeal. She was sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall. With her head back, her black hair had slid to the side to reveal an earring of jewels that twinkled like blue stars.
    Her eyes were closed, and something in her grip glowed red. She's sleeping, then. Maybe enchanting. Hiresha had a gentle face, he had decided, with lips that he believed would be ever so soft.
    Chandur rested the gown beside her and turned to leave.
    Someone had closed the door. He heard the click of it being locked from the other side.
    He jiggled the door latch, assuming whoever had taken the key would realize their mistake. When he heard the mischief of Janny's voice, the extent of her plot hit him like a punch to his side.
    “Hiresha,” she called through the key hole. “Hiresha, wake up.”
    “Janny.” He bent over to try to see through the keyhole, and he felt the weight of his sword in his knees and ankles. “Open this door.”
    He heard the maid walk away, whistling to herself.
    Thumping a fist against the door, he turned to see the enchantress blinking her eyes open. His heart was beating at a surprising tempo. His mouth felt stuffed with linen, and he wondered how he would explain his presence in her locked cabin.
    The enchantress managed to open one eye long enough to spot Chandur. She asked, “Have we set sail?”
    “What? Oh, no. But Janny, she—”
    “No matter.” She pointed to the floorboards. “This will be more dignified if you kneel.”
    Either the ship heaved under his feet, or spinning and tipping sensations caused him to lose his balance. His back clunked against the wall. “Enchantress Hiresha, I don't think—”
    “This circlet will protect you.” She draped a length of gold segments between her hands. The jewelry was crafted to look like a snake, with two ruby eyes. He had seen the gems shining in her hand. “It will Burden metal or wood approaching you at speed. But only twice a day, so preserve some vestige of caution.”
    His legs shook as he knelt and likely not only because of the greatsword's weight. The enchantress rested the jewelry over his brow. One section of circlet caught on his hair, but he refused to wince. He was grateful that she had thought of him and his safety. The gold held the warmth of her touch.
    “Not the snake I thought I'd have.” Chandur felt a moment of disappointment even though he knew the rarity of the enchantment she had given him. More precious than the gold, and she made it for me. Appreciation flickered in his chest and warmed him.“Suppose this way I won't have to hunt rats for him.”
    “The circlet is more practical than any pet.” She straightened the lapels of his coat. One of her hands strayed toward his chin, but instead of touching him she leaned away. “I am sorry, Chandur.”
    “You're sorry?”
    “I meant to have that circlet enchanted by this morning.” She slumped on the bed, covering one half of her face with a hand. “I anticipate we may not be able to return to the Academy, and I'm sorry for bringing you into this.”
    The voices of sailors murmured through the ceiling. Chandur braced himself against the wall as his stomach lurched. The boards beneath his feet slid forward and down, and the ship had to be slipping free of the docks. Sand made a shushing sound around them.
    Hiresha swayed in time to the moving ship, and she looked like she might collapse with worry. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but thought it was not his place.
    “Hiresha,” he said, touching the gold snake on his brow, “you honored me by choosing me for your spellsword. I'm not going to prove myself less than unworthy. I mean—that is—I won’t leave you.”
    The enchantress did not speak, but she sat straighter.
    Chandur tried the door again, found it still locked. Measuring air in and out of his lungs, he decided he would not have a better time to tell her. He could give her his loyalty and the power of his arm but nothing more. He dragged one foot at a time to