Hazel's Promise (The Fey Quartet Book 2) by Emily Larkin Page B

kicks.
    A shout swelled in Tam’s throat. He choked it back. Twenty yards, ten yards . . . and he was upon them.
    He swung his stave at the man gripping the girl’s hair. The outlaw looked up at the last instant, his mouth opening in a cry.
    The stave hit the man’s skull with a bone-jarring crack .
    The outlaw dropped as if dead. The girl dropped, too, rolled, scrambled to her feet.
    Tam spun to face the second man, wielding the stave as if it were a spear—a mighty jab, right at the outlaw’s sternum. Again, he heard the crack of bone.
    The man staggered back and fell heavily.
    Tam raised the stave again, but the outlaw didn’t get up. He lay stunned, his breath coming in rattling gasps.
    Tam lowered the stave. He turned to the girl, panting. “You all right?”
    Her face was starkly white, smudged with dirt. Blood daubed her chin. Her eyes were wide, dark, and frightened. Her plait was unraveling. Glossy nut-brown hair tumbled down her back.
    “Are you all right?” Tam asked again.
    “Yes,” the girl said, but her voice betrayed her, wobbling. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said, more strongly. “I’m unharmed.”
    “There’s blood on your face.”
    “Not mine.” The girl wiped her mouth and chin. “I bit one of them.” She looked at the blood on her fingers, and then met his eyes. “Thank you. I’m very much in your debt.”
    Tam shook his head. “The fault was mine. I should have warned you. I passed that one . . .” he pointed to the man he’d struck first, “not an hour ago. If I’d thought to tell you, if you’d turned bac k— ”
    “I wouldn’t have turned back,” the girl said.
    Marigold ambled up and nudged Tam’s thigh. He caught her trailing rope. “You have to. You can’t go on alon e— ”
    “I’m not turning back,” the girl said, folding her arms. “I’ve waited ten years—and I am not turning back!” Some color was returning to her face. Tam realized, belatedly, that she was remarkably beautiful. And older than he’d thought. Close to his own age, if he guessed right. A woman, not a girl.
    He eyed her. “How far are you going?”
    “Mottlethorpe. It’s only twenty miles from here.”
    Tam thought of his father’s letter, hidden in his packsaddle. I don’t anticipate trouble, but Faerie wishes have a way of going awry, and I confess I’d like you home as soon as possible, son. I know I have three good shoulders to lean on, but I would be glad of your shoulder, too, should anything go wrong .
    His father wanted him home. But his father would also expect him to protect this woman.
    Tam looked at her folded arms and stubborn jaw and determined, dirt-smudged face, and weighed his father’s request for his swift return against the danger she faced on these roads. Twenty miles to Mottlethorpe, twenty miles back. It would add less than two days to his journey.
    “Very well,” Tam said. “Marigold and I will escort you.”
    The woman blinked, looking startled. “I don’t need an escort.” And then she looked at the two men lying on the road and had the grace to blush. “I don’t want an escort,” she said, in a smaller voice.
    “Tough,” Tam said cheerfully. “This isn’t the vale; it isn’t safe for a woman alone.” Especially one as beautiful as you .
    She hesitated, and then asked, “Where were you headed?”
    “Mottlethorpe.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Where were you headed . . . truly ?”
    “Truly?” Tam shrugged. “The vale.”
    The woman shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I can’t let you go so far out of you r— ”
    “And I can’t let you go on alone,” Tam told her bluntly. “You won’t turn back. I doubt you’d let me drag you back. Therefore, I go to Mottlethorpe with you.”
    She bit her lip, and looked down at the two outlaws sprawled on the road. Emotions flitted across her face: determination, despair.
    “And besides,” Tam said lightly. “Marigold insists, and she’s a stubborn