Windswept (The Airborne Saga) (11 page)

             
“I don’t know what to say to that.”

             
Stern stepped forward until only an inch remained between them. He reeked of dust and age; his body gave off no warmth.

             
“I’m going to keep my eye on you.”

             
Avery couldn’t pitch another question before Stern walked off but then she wouldn’t have anyways. Perry did finally approach and happily ushered Avery back inside. She’d put Avery’s dough in the oven—possibly after having remodeled the individual pieces—because when they came out they looked oddly perfect for Avery’s work. Perry took care and precious time separating the rows out and placing the warm pastries into a basket. Strawberries and chocolate were already placed at the bottom and gave Avery the hint this was her take home basket.

             
Night was creeping up quickly now, and while Avery enjoyed the relaxation of the warm building, she breathed another sigh of relief when a knock came at the door. A Guard member stood at the other side. Just as silent as they always were, he only directed Avery outside with a nod of the head. Avery bid Perry a goodbye. The woman’s eyes had actually glazed over. She pounced over, embraced Avery in a hug, and told her they’d see each other again. Outside as she trailed the Guard, the warmth of conversation was prominently absent. The atmosphere freezing as soon as the sun had set didn’t help, and Avery regretted the light sweater.

The harpie moved stiffly and his head never stopped moving. It was surpr
ising someone could seem so taut while in so many different directions. Determined to force conversation, she greeted him and asked for a name. The reply was short initially.

             
“We’re not allowed to become too involved on a social aspect with anyone. It would compromise our position of absolute protection.”

             
“I bet you’re also the only one who does that. You can’t go through life so anti-social,” she quipped, assuming the battle was lost.

             
This Guard was more baby-faced than the rest—likely significantly younger. His consideration showed in his face.

             
“I am the one who strives to keep the letter of the law to which I was sworn to the most, yes, but my associates socializing with the council proves to be no harm or danger to the monarch.”

             
Why anyone would talk to Stern for a social aspect, Avery couldn’t understand. She didn’t bother to either. The harpie led her over the side of the mountain to buildings that weren’t initially apparent upon arrival.  The trip over was an obnoxiously long one. The terrain grew worse and Avery had to slow. The Guard waited without a word. When they reached the destination they were much more out of sight regardless, hidden under the jagged abnormalities of the mountain side and tucked together. The only harpies that lingered outside wore the clear blue of harpie law enforcement, but Avery bypassed them all with the Guard escort.

             
“Where are you taking me?”

             
“To our Prince’s temporary lodging for the night.”

             
She snorted but still asked, “And everyone is cool with that?”

             
“Everyone or no one. This is not my choice to doubt my Prince’s decision if it presents no danger to his person. That rests with the council.” The Guard finished just as they reached a door inside. Solid wood, it spoke elegance before she even walked in.

             
“Have a nice night,” he told her.

             
She’d stayed with Mason over a million nights before. But she couldn’t resist the thought as she waited for him to answer. Maybe this time would be different.

Nine

The door opened before she knocked and she walked in before being invited. She scanned the bedroom while Mason nodded off the Guard member who had brought her here. The room managed to be elegant without being gaudy, and fancy without being completely unreasonable. The massive bed had a carefully-carved wooden banister and transparent drapes hung down. The carpet beneath her feet was lush with some ignored pattern, and the cream-colored walls reminded her of home.

             
“So, the Guard doesn’t feel the need to watch you sleep too?” Avery asked after finding her most important observation. The room was empty besides them.

             
“I’m allowed some privacy. But they must stay within earshot in case I do call for them.” Mason’s voice was lowered, indicating exactly the level the Guard probably couldn’t hear. He crossed the room making it easier. She mimicked the quieter tone quickly.

             
“Speaking of calling for help, your buddy Stern had a nice talk with me,” she said and earned the full weight of Mason’s green eyes. “These people are worried about me being dangerous to you but they still let me tag along?”

             
He smiled at that, for the first time, turning his attention to the basket of food she brought. His nose twitched as he dug through the pastries—they all smelt as sweet as they tasted. Then at his questioning face, she gave him the ‘go nuts’ hand gesture.

             
“I’m sure they wouldn’t if they had much of a choice.” He then explained as he picked through the pastries, “You see, the Council has much power to designate day to day operations of the monarch. They are advisors and representatives. But they aren’t the ultimate decision maker—they aren’t the royal bloodline in charge. They need me and if they want to get their way, they want me to like them. To give deference to their decisions. So they’ll let me win on little battles. Like you, even if they thought the position was better suited by someone else.”

             
“Well, thanks for sticking it out for me,” Avery chirped as she dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. Mason’s gesture probably deserved more kudos than her statement gave, but she moved on quickly. “So is that why he’s trying to introduce me to the public? Make the press like me?”

             
“Like that’d be possible.”

She glared at Mason’s snort.

“Kidding.” He held his hands up. Well, he was at least half-kidding. She was still human after all. “Yes, it’s much more difficult to fight an uphill battle. Understand that while the monarch exerts absolute control, there are many more peasants than there are rulers. And to some extent, we must keep the peasants happy. Keep them confident and believing the monarch can provide for them. That’s why appearance is very important. But we will make them like you.”

She gave him a more genuine smile this time. For once being Mason and Avery would be a positive thing in the harpie world. Mason finally moved and sat on the bed with her.

“We’re going to be going back to the Island tomorrow. We should sleep,” he said pointedly.

“Do you usually sleep with your nice clothes on?” She made a gesture towards the distinctive thick and precious fabric that made up some type of uniform.

Mason suddenly looked at her and his close proximity became very noticeable.

“Do you wanna help me take them off?” He offered her a teasing smile.

Mason always had the knack for striking the buttons that earned a perfect rise from her. He waited for the reaction too. Recognizing it now though, she resisted the urge to blush or look away. Avery forced herself to meet his eyes with her best poker face.

“Dare me?” She arched an eyebrow.

That threw Mason off guard. He leaned back as if he’d been hit by an invisible blow. He wouldn’t dare her. There was nothing about her tone that indicated she’d even remotely back out. Fueled by a sudden success at the game, Avery took it another step—a step she’d learned from Leela.

She dropped back onto the bed certain the cotton shirt would flutter up to reveal her naval and the tight denim would ride down low on her hips. The air tickled her skin but she refused to acknowledge it. Pushing her fingers through her hair as if to straighten the messy
locks, she complained. “These sheets are way too soft.”

With her eyes closed, she couldn’t hear a single reaction for a full minute. Losing the ability to be patient, she cracked her eyes open and glimpsed at Mason through half shut lids. She wasn’t exactly prepared for what she saw.

Mason
had
stripped his clothes off—or at least the shirt and belt. Only pants covered him now and they ran down on
his
hips.

“Lemme see.” He slid onto the bed
crawling on it until he hovered directly above Avery. Her brain completely threatened to turn off, but she desperately held onto the lingering thoughts. Mason was close enough that she could feel his breath, postured that with one small shift, he would be on top of her. But that’s when she did notice it. His lips tugged at the edges. Still. Teasing. Avery nearly hissed in frustration.

Since when did Mason get this impression of her being the first one to wimp out? Or was his ego really that big? She stayed determined to take it down a notch. She took a breath and held it in her gut to keep her stomach from so easily jumping out of her throat. She couldn’t remember being this nervous for a while—even with her crazy life.

She started slowly, propping herself up on her elbows and bringing herself closer to Mason’s face. Lifting an arm, she touched his chest as casually as she could but the feel of burning skin suddenly underneath her fingertips couldn’t have been that calming.

“Aren’t we supposed to be going to sleep?” She traced
her fingertips down the expanse of his chest. It was much firmer than she would have pinned for the boy being so thin and light.

Mason leaned back, smirk leaving him, and
the spark diminishing from his eyes. He’d thought he’d won. He’d thought he’d hit her breaking point.

“Come on.” He made a gesture for her to straighten out and become more comfortable in a position that she’d actually sleep in. Avery didn’t.

Taking one last breath, she mustered the next words.

“What? You don’t expect me to sleep like this, do you?” The question almost sounded innocent. But she moved quickly. Grabbing the bottom of the cotton hem on her shirt, she pulled the fabric quickly over her head. The cool air current of the room rushed her but it probably wasn’t the only thing that made her skin prickle.

Mason had seen her once before, when they were in a cave struggling to survive. Contrary to romance movies, nothing about staving off death at the time made it a hot scenario. But here in a bed—that was actually comfortable—with the boy she was dating, the gesture would be totally different.

She didn’t meet his eyes but didn’t have to when she felt his gaze. She still wore a bra but not much of one, a lacy sheer thing that she’d picked specially a long while back.