Page 6 of Ashborne Forged

He kissed me softly, quickly, then took my hand, turned on his heel and led me into the trees.

~ VOSKI ~

Leading her toward the treehouse, my heart thumped against my ribs, and my hands shook. But it was a battle to keep myself from running. I needed her with me, out of sight, and away from any interruption.

I would have to buy Gil’s forgiveness. It had been our agreement from the start that we’d never bring women here. But he only rarely visited now. And the wind was rising. The clouds thickening to blanket what little sunlight still remained. I couldn’t take her to the barracks, and while her loft was more private… no.

I trembled, my skin humming with anticipation—and fear. While the dragons approved and rumbled their urging in the bond, they were distant. I’d told Kham to keep Koa close enough that Grace could reach her, but not to disturb us.

‘Of course! A first mating should be savored alone.’

‘I don’t know, Kham. Women aren’t dragons. And I’ve hurt her. Just, please. Don’t interrupt.’

He gave a low, happy huff in the bond. ‘We will not break into your minds unless there’s an emergency.’

Relieved, but only tenser because of his assumptions, I led her to the tree with downturned branches. We’d built the treehouse long enough ago that the branches now grew around it, obscuring it even further than the natural shade of the leaves.

Grace didn’t notice it until I had her at the base of the trunk and looked up. She followed my gaze, tilting her delicate chin up, and her face brightened with joy. “Oh! A tree house!”

“Yes. I’ll climb up and get the rope ladder—”

“No need.” Flipping her cloak back over her shoulders, she threw herself at the trunk, grasping the lowest branch and running her feet up until she could stretch with the opposite hand for the next. I watched, stunned, as she clambered up—one boot daintily placed on the lowest branch, twisting her body around the branch, her small hand cupping the broad branch above that was a stretch for her reach, until she could swing off it and draw her legs up to the next.

I was so enthralled, it wasn’t until she’d reached the bottom of the treehouse and hunched, peering at the underside of its floor, frowning, that I woke up and started to climb.

“How do you get in?” She looked down at me between the branches, smiling—but I caught the edge of tension around her eyes and hurried to get close enough to touch her.

We needed to be close. We’d both feel better when we were touching.

As quickly as I ever had, I slipped through the branches, pulling myself up and swinging between until I was only one level below her, and praying Gil would forgive me, because I was breaking two promises by telling her how to release the catch so she could get inside.

“See that knot underneath? Press it in. Hard.”

She bent down, tendrils of her hair swinging as she turned her head to look under the platform the rest of the treehouse was built upon. She reached for the knot and pressed, but couldn’t get it to release.

“Try using your thumb.”

She did, but didn’t have the strength at the strange angle. So, I pulled myself up to the branch with her, holding my weight with one hand on the edge of the platform, so I could place a foot either side of hers, and cage her in.

The thrill behind my navel shivered when she turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder, her gaze admiring, but also unsure.

“I’m done running, Grace. I swear,” I said softly, reaching past her to press the knot—I knew it as surely as I knew my own body, I’d been here so many times. Her eyes locked on mine, and I was about to kiss her, when the trapdoor gave.

She startled and almost slipped. But I had an arm on either side of her, and braced until she’d found her balance again, then she turned and exclaimed, holding the branch only to crouch and lean under the platform. In moments, she’d pulled herself up and into the treehouse, her boots disappearing before her face reappeared, upside down. “Did you build this?!”

I nodded. She smiled brightly, then disappeared again. Panic flared when I couldn’t see her, but it was mere moments to pull myself up into the small room that was easily tall enough for Grace to stand without hunching. The shadows were deep, here under the trees and the roof. There were windows, but we kept them shuttered, so the air was already chill because the sunlight rarely touched inside. But my heart pounded with such vigor, I barely felt it as I slid the trapdoor back into place, so that it once again became a seamless piece of the floor.

Then I stood.

The ceiling was just tall enough for Gil and me—early on, Gil liked to tease that he’d knock his head, even if I didn’t.

It didn’t matter today, because I kept my head and eyes down. On her.

Grace, as usual, was enthralled.

I tried to see this place as she must, with fresh eyes—simple wooden floor and walls. Little corner shelves where we lit candles only when the shutters were closed because we didn’t want wanderers to see light from the outside.

The room was barely the size of a servant’s quarters. I was reminded of her upbringing—how accustomed to space and luxury she must be. Yet, she’d never complained about her loft.