Tinderbox by W.A. Simpson

Author:W.A. Simpson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gothic fantasy; flame tree press; fantasy; modern fantasy; epic fantasy; Fairy tales; Hans Christian Andersen
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2022-06-30T12:44:13+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The trail opened a crooked path down the hill, reminding Bram of the old nursery rhyme ‘There Was a Crooked Man’. Although not quite a mile, it took a bit of time for Bram to make his way to the floor of the cave. He approached the group with some caution, and he swore to the Triune if anyone so much as snickered, he would go back to hiding in the forest.

Isbet had climbed the stone steps again and was waiting for her turn, so Bram sat on a flat, moss-covered rock and continued to watch. She seemed to be having as much fun as the youngsters were. For someone who had been up to this point serious and somewhat aloof, her actions were a mixture of surprising and amusing to Bram.

Bram watched as she executed an almost flawless dive, barely causing a ripple. The young people on the cliff cheered. Several of the others followed and splashed about in the water.

Bram nearly jumped out of his trousers when something pushed against his arm. A young faun looked at him with curious green eyes. Her body was covered in tawny fur. One ear twitched as though shooing away some imaginary insect.

“Hello, little one.” Bram smiled at her. She didn’t speak, just crawled into his lap and curled up comfortably. Bram had never had any dealings with fauns, although they dwelled both above and below. Bram wasn’t certain of the protocol with them, but she reminded him of a young child, and he brushed his hands down her hair as he continued to observe the others at their play.

There was something soothing about just sitting there, watching everyone and cradling an innocent child. For a few moments, Bram could forget everything that had happened. He was somewhat content for the first time in many months.

Some of the young people were leaving. The tiny faun’s mother approached, or so Bram assumed because her child seemed to sense her presence. She climbed from Bram’s lap but before leaving, she kissed him on the tip of his nose. Perhaps someone as young as she knew Bram’s soul was troubled.

When he turned his attention back to the lake, Isbet was just climbing out onto the grassy shore. Silhouetted against the light, the sight of her was magnificent. The wet silk clung to her well-defined body, giving shape to her ample breasts and the curve of her hips. Her nipples were hard and pressed against the fabric and Bram imagined they were as dark and sweet as she was.

Nether-hells, was all he could think. That and he had to thank the Triune for not making celibacy a canon of his station. As the Arch-bishop, he could honorably court and wed a woman, but it was generally accepted that he refrained from – outside pursuits. Still, he was a mortal man after all. It wasn’t until she lifted an eyebrow that he realized he was staring somewhat rudely and lowered his gaze. “Lady Isbet.”

“Your Highness.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Bram said, sharper than he’d intended.

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