Free Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) by Laury Falter Page A

down the path to our door, I didn’t see him or the other three for several days. I kept my head down while working in the garden, avoiding fleeting looks at the Jurgen home as much as possible. I failed a few times and wondered if Eran had noticed. But by the end of the week, I ventured into the night again and crossed paths with all of them.
    The evening was cool with a dense mist that had settled over the area. Dew had begun to form on the patches of grass scattered along the graveled dirt road. My toes scooped up the droplets of water, dampening my shoes and causing my feet to resemble stiff, beaded slippers. I was in the middle of balancing on my left foot to wiggle the beads away when the sound of crunching gravel broke the serene night.
    The image of the three with stark-white hair flashed through my mind. Before it was gone I had withdrawn my sword and spun around, slicing it through the air. It made a whistling sound but came to a dead stop directly overhead.
    My arm felt as if it had hit a solid wall, sending a penetrating vibration down my limb, but in fact it was my wrist that had landed in an iron-tight grip.
    When my eyes settled on the face of the person holding me, I found Eran grinning back.
    “You’re quick,” he commented with his unusual accent.
    We were suddenly close enough for our breaths to skirt each other’s face and for the heat radiating from our bodies to become trapped between our chests. And, despite my efforts to disregard it, he was intoxicating.
    He seemed to detect my reaction to him and broke into that proud smirk.
    “I’ve been training,” I said, reverting back to his remark.
    “So that’s what you were doing just then?” he asked, playfully mocking me. “With your foot? Were you training?” When my nostrils flared in anger, he promptly submitted, “Or what was that a dance?”
    “I don’t dance,” I replied flatly.
    He blinked in astonishment. “You don’t…”
    “No, I don’t dance.” I didn’t want to admit that I lacked the rhythm.
    His stunned stare continued, making me self-conscious. Then slowly and with deep sincerity, he whispered, “That will need to be remedied.”
    Despite my frustrations with him, anticipation ran through me like heated liquid, burning my stomach until it became a distraction.
    While trying to ignore it, I asked, “Do you have a timeframe in mind on when you plan to let me go?”
    “How is it I know you can be trusted?” he teased.
    “You’re the one restraining me,” I reminded him.
    “After you came at me with a sword,” he countered.
    “Because you snuck up on me.”
    He chuckled.
    By this point, our chests had somehow connected and the jostle of his laughter vibrated against me. It was enticing, more than I’d wanted it to be.
    After sliding my sword back into its sheath, I found him observing me. To sway his attention away, I pointed out, “You moved so quietly, I didn’t hear you at all.”
    “Huh,” he mumbled and looked up at the horizon. It seemed to be in an effort to avoid continuing the conversation.
    “How did you do it?” I persisted.
    “Do what?” he asked, breaking into a casual stride in the direction I had been going.
    I followed, repeating my question. “How did you approach me without making a sound?”
    “Oh, I…” He shrugged. “I step with subtlety.”
    Without knowing it was coming, I burst into laughter, which brought his attention back to me and an amused smile to his face. I would have kept on laughing but with my head down something caught my eye.
    “Your boots are bone dry,” I pointed out.
    There was no way he could have stayed on the graveled road without me hearing him and no way he could have crossed the fields without saturating his feet.
    He peered down at his boots before candidly remarking, “Yes, they are.”
    I expected him to continue, to explain himself, but he rejected that approach entirely.”And where are we off to tonight, Friedricha?”
    I had intended to argue