The guard snaps out of his stupor and sneers at Tristan. “What's your purpose?” the guard asks, returning his attention to me.
My horse stomps her foot, impatient with the male preventing her from enjoying her dinner and a good night's sleep in a stable.
“She and I are here to form trading agreements,” I reply, nodding towards Amara. “We hired these males as our escorts.”
The guard peers around me, seeing only wagonless horses. “What are you trading?”
“Leather.”
“Leather?” he asks, his features twisting into puzzlement. “You're trading leather? In Cascadonia?”
Perplexed by his confusion, I nod my head slowly in answer.
The guard stares at me for several moments, then tosses his head back, roaring in laughter. His fellow guards quickly join in.
Zander leans into me and whispers loudly, “Are they all mad?”
“Maybe they don't know what leather is?” I offer, but it’s highly unlikely when they're all garbed in black and teal trim uniforms, comprised entirely of leather.
“I bid you good luck,” the guard says with a lingering chuckle, wiping tears from his eyes. “Do you carry any weapons on your person?”
That's a foolish question. I think Zander’s right. They're deranged.
Amara gapes at him in surprise. “Did we travel across the continent with weapons? When there's murderers, bandits, and thieves on the road?” Her expression sobers. “Of course not.”
I sigh. I have very little patience left from traveling for weeks on end, but I apparently have more than Amara. “Yes, we have weapons.”
The guard’s eyes glimmer. “You’ll have to turn them over.”
What the fuck?
“No,” Amara says before I can.
“Citizens are the only beings permitted to carry weapons within our walls. All visitors must be relieved of weaponry before entering the city,” he says, as if he's reciting a commanding officer’s words.
“I’ve already entered your city with a weapon,” Amara points out. “So it seems you've already broken your laws.”
He narrows his eyes at her and I suppress a chuckle. “What about humans?” I ask. “Does that rule apply to them?”
“Especially them,” he sneers.
I narrow my eyes at the bigot and wonder how hard a kick to the face should be to knock the prejudice out of him. Aware that we must get past these gates, I attempt to control my anger, while wishing I had stashed my obsidian and starlight daggers in the forest along with our more unusual weapons. Swallowing thickly, I order, “Turn them over.”
“No fucking way!” Amara shouts, her stallion neighing in agreement. “No one touches my weapons. Ever. What if I need to use one?”
“You won’t,” a guard says, standing beside Amara’s stallion with raised arms, waiting to receive her weapons. “The guards will protect you.”
A deranged smile crosses her face as she lowers her head near his, speaking in a sickly-sweet tone. “Oh, honey. Look at me. Do I look like a woman who needs someone to protect her?” Straightening atop her stallion, she adds with a crinkle to her nose, “No, I’ll not give up my weapons to the likes of you. You’ll chip it or smudge it with your greasy, thieving fingers.”
Frustrated, I look at Amara. “Just hand it over, Amara. We’re not getting in if we don’t.”
“We can get in,” she promises, sweeping a thoughtful gaze atop the wall.
“Oh, yes,” Zander agrees. Hands on his hips, he examines the wall. “They have many weak spots. We could wait until nightfall and then come through there.” He points up and to his right. “Or there.” He swings his pointer finger to the left and down. Swinging his finger a bit more to the right, he chuckles. “Frankly, we could just walk in there while it’s still daylight.”
“Not when you just told them all your plans,” Tristan says dryly.
“Amara,” I say, my tone laced thick with command.
Furious, she remains unmoving as she glares at me. After seeing I won't be swayed, she grumbles a curse and drops down from her horse, jerking her weapons free. Her bow, a sword, an axe, and then dagger after dagger after dagger. She shoves them all into the waiting guard’s chest, earning his grunt and the satisfaction of seeing his knees bow beneath the weight. Tristan, Zander, and I quickly do the same.
As I'm passing my last dagger to a silent guard, their leader tries my patience more.
“We’ll have to pat you down.”
Irritated, I narrow my eyes at the asshole as I whip my arms outward and widen my legs.
The silent guard kneels at my feet and slides his hands slowly up my calves. His movements start out clinical, but they all too quickly become familiar. His fingers knead and rub, exploring in a predatory manner as he slides upwards.
I'm about to lose my shit when the pervert’s fingers splay out as they near the apex between my thighs, but Amara’s sinister voice beats me to it.
“Squeeze my ass one more time and I'll cut your balls off.”
My pervert's hands instantly still. When he looks up to meet my wrathful gaze, I bob my head towards Amara. “What she said.”
Swallowing thickly, he stands with trembling hands and begins unclasping my vambraces.
“What could I possibly hide in there?” I snap. “A needle?”
