He didn’t bother to reply. Instead he looked at the collection of tents. “Is one of these ours?”
“Yes.” She pointed to the largest one.
He walked over, flicked open the flap and looked inside. The frame was tall enough to sit in but not stand upright. The lightweight, wind- and rain-resistant tarps had been stretched over a simple A wooden frame, and the bottoms of the tarps had been buried in snow to insulate the inside of the tent from the wind.
More wood had been roughly planked, tied together and set inside to provide an insulating barrier to the snowy ground. Each of the psychos’ packs carried an emergency thermal sleeping bag that weighed a fraction of a pound and could retain up to ninety percent of one’s body heat. With shelter from the weather, and a barrier against the cold, wet ground, the tents weren’t comfortable, but they were quick to construct from materials that were either portable or easily harvested from the surrounding area, and they were sturdy enough to withstand a strong wind or even a snowstorm.
Pia and Dragos’s tent was the Hilton of basic survival tents. It had been built large enough to contain the dimensions of his massive frame, and inside, along with two packages of emergency thermal sleeping bags, there were two real wool blankets folded on the planks.
Pia had set her pack inside, along with her canteen of water, and her stash of wayfarer bread and soy protein bars, and her crossbow and belt filled with bolts. A small LED flashlight dangled from the top post of the A-frame.
“Good enough,” Dragos grunted.
He clicked on the flashlight, shook out one of the blankets over the planks and crawled into the tent, tucking Pia’s pack underneath his head as a pillow. As soon as he was settled into place, he beckoned her with one outstretched hand, and she crawled inside too, tucking the flap shut behind her and trying to take care not to jab him too much with her elbows or knees.
When she was sitting beside him, she worked on getting the loosened armor off. He sat to help her, pulling the chest and back plates away while she wiggled out of the leg pieces. He threw off so much body heat that the interior of the tent was already warm by the time she was finished. She let out a deep sigh and sagged.
He lifted her hair gently and smoothed it over her shoulder. Then he put his warm, hard hands at the nape of her neck and began to massage her tired, sore muscles. Exhausted, she sagged further, leaning into his strength.
“It’s so cold,” she whispered. “And there are children out there.”
“I know,” he said. “I don’t think they’re aware of what is happening to them, if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not, much.”
“I know,” he said again, very low.
She twisted to face him. “You never had the chance to tell me what happened when you went to examine the enthralled Elves.”
“When I removed the beguilement, three of them died,” he said. He stroked his long, lean fingers through her hair. “It was unavoidable, but still half of Calondir’s advisors are calling for him to banish me from the Elven demesne again. Some bright soul put two and two together, and pointed out that I couldn’t have responded so fast to the fire if I hadn’t already broken their law and trespassed in their demesne again. That’s why I can’t go hunting Gaeleval on my own, and I can’t kill any more Elves, at least not without an indisputable reason.”
She groaned and dug the heels of her hands into her dry, tired eyes. “They can’t banish you. They need us too much right now.”
“I know.” He paused. “Before I broke the beguilement, Gaeleval used the enthralled Elves as mouthpieces. I wanted to warn you in case he does that again here. It’s pretty disturbing to watch.”
She nodded as she took one of his hands in both of hers and held it in her lap. She stroked the broad back of his palm and laced her fingers through his. “Are you going to try to do the same thing here?”
“I don’t know. Calondir asked what would happen if I did, and I told him that the death rate was going to be much higher. Gaeleval has controlled the ones in the valley for a lot longer than he did the ones in Lirithriel Wood. Aside from the fact that it will be harder to strip the beguilement from their identities, many of these Elves have sickened physically. It’s possible his control is the only thing that still animates some of them.” He shook his head, his mouth set in grim lines. “That’s as far as we got. At that point he stopped the conversation.”
It sounded like Dragos was describing zombie Elves. She shuddered. “Is there any real choice about trying to free them?”
“None at all. After we stop Gaeleval—and we will stop him—the beguilement will still need to be lifted from his victims. The ones who are too sick or weak will still die. It is possible though, that they may be able to save some of those who are sick, if proper medical attention is at hand. If we have to take the beguilement off in the middle of a battle, we’ll lose the ones that might otherwise have been saved.”
The back of her nose prickled and her eyes grew damp.
He watched her face with a shadowed gaze. “It hurts to see things through your eyes sometimes,” he said quietly.
She looked at him quickly. “Is it harder on you that I came?”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe in some ways, yes. Gaeleval said through his mouthpieces that I’m vulnerable in ways I’ve never been before, and he’s right. But in other ways, I’m stronger and better with you than without.” He gave her a small smile. “And there’s an added benefit. I don’t have to miss you.”
She couldn’t smile back. “So I wasn’t wrong to come?”
“No, Pia,” he said. “I still don’t like it that you’re here, but you weren’t wrong to come.” He paused. “I suppose this is partnership.”
“Yes,” she said. “This is partnership.”
She leaned forward then and kissed him, openmouthed, and he sank a hand underneath her hair to cup the back of her neck as he kissed her back. His breath ghosted over her as he licked the corner of her lips. “Dammit,” he murmured. It was the barest thread of sound, yet it still carried the force of his frustration.
Her breasts felt heavy and full, and she throbbed with emptiness. “We could be really quiet,” she breathed.
A corner of his sexy mouth lifted. “Well, I could be but I don’t think you could. You tend to get a little noisy at times, lover. Not that I’m complaining in the slightest, as it speaks to your enthusiasm. I merely point out the fact.”
She walked two fingers up his arm as she leaned forward. “We would just have to find a way to keep me muffled,” she murmured against his ear. “Got any bright ideas?”
“You know I do,” he told her. Then he lifted back his head to give her a serious look. “As long as you’re sure. The conditions could hardly be any less ideal.”
“I’m sure.”
They were so lucky they could share stolen time together and draw comfort from each other in a warm, dry place. She was so incredibly lucky that she could relax against his inexhaustible strength and feel the two most luxurious things of all, love and safety. So many people would endure that night feeling neither love nor safety, and many of them might be in the valley. Dragos might not believe that the enthralled knew much about what was happening to them, but she wondered if something of their spirits knew. She had to wonder what Beluviel felt that night, or the children.
Dragos reached overhead and clicked off the flashlight, throwing their tent into darkness. A dim light from the campfires and the blazing passageway showed through the tarps. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the outline of his head and broad shoulders. He hugged her close, his big hands running down her back.
“My fingers are cold,” she warned in a whisper.
“You know that doesn’t matter.” She could hear a smile in his murmur.
She gave into temptation and slipped her hands under his black silk sweater, and all the starch melted from her spine as she came in contact with his bare, hot skin. He sighed and shifted closer, slipping his hands under her own sweater to cup her breasts.