Falling Warriors Series Collection (Books 1, 2 & 1.5)

by Nicole René

  “Boys! Stop it right now!”

  She picked up her pace, hearing Leawyn’s demand. Leawyn was standing outside of the circle, an angry scowl on her face. There were two forms grappling on the ground, trying to trade blows with each other. It was Castic and Karneer. No way her and Leawyn will be able to break them up. In perfect timing, Tyronian pushed through the crowd before she could call for him.

  “Enough!” he barked, yanking Castic back when he went to lunge for Karneer again after he had already pulled him off. He looked around, noticing the attention the fight gained.

  “Alright, that’s enough! We’re done for today.” No one moved.

  “Get outta here!” Tyronian yelled, and like magic, the crowd was suddenly gone, dispersing with the chaos of a beehive.

  “Not you,” Leawyn growled sternly, yanking Castic back by the back of his shirt when he motioned to leave. “You’re staying right here.” Castic heaved an angry sigh and faced them with a brooding look.

  “What were you thinking!”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Watch it,” Tyronian warned him. Castic’s eyes flashed up to him before he looked down, his insolence dimmed a bit.

  "You were supposed to be practicing."

  “I was!” Castic burst out, meeting their eyes again.

  “Then why did you get in a fight?”

  Castic scowled, which looked adorable. A little growl escaped his lips. "Because I saw him talking to Garnette!"

  Namoriee and Leawyn exchanged startled looks while Tyronian snickered. Namoriee elbowed him in the stomach sharply, making him cough. She glared at him. He shut up.

  They turned their attention back to Castic.

  "Castic, " Leawyn said, bending down to his eye-level. "Why would him talking to Garnette cause you to react that way?"

  "Because I don't like it," Castic snipped, grumpily.

  Namoriee looked around, and sure enough, she could see Garnette a few paces away watching them anxiously. It wasn’t uncommon to see Castic’s childhood friend following him around like she was an extension of his shadow. She must have come to watch and wait for him to finish training.

  "Garnette is min—my friend," he corrected quickly. "I didn't like the way he was looking at her."

  Leawyn's eyebrows were practically to her hair line at that admission, and though she was a bit worried about the vehemence in his voice, Namoriee couldn't help but twitch her lips in humor.

  "Be that as it may, " Leawyn said dryly, once she recovered. "You're training to be a warrior; you have to be responsible. Karneer doesn't know how to fight like you."

  "I know," Castic replied seriously. "That's why I hit him. I wanted him to remember me."

  Tyronian covered a laugh.

  Leawyn sighed, but Namoriee saw that she was fighting her own laughter. “Go see your chief, Castic. He will decide your punishment.” Castic didn’t put up a fight, simply nodded his head grimly and they all watched as he walked toward Xavier who was practicing with his men.

  “You don’t think he’ll be too hard on him, will you?” Namoriee asked, suddenly worried for Castic. Xavier had stopped practicing at Castic’s appearance, and now seemed to be listening to him. Xavier was a strict leader; she couldn’t imagine he would be too pleased to know a fight broke out.

  “Not likely,” Leawyn snorted. “I have more of a mind that he would likely congratulate him than scold him.”

  “I would,” Tyronian agreed, grinning. He chuckled when Leawyn punched his arm in response.

  “Why would he? He made his claim on his woman! T ’was what any warrior would do. I know I did,” Tyronian growled the last part in Namoriee’s ear when he pulled her into him. She stiffened at that. She was vaguely annoyed that her heart spiked at that admission.

  No, Namoriee, she scolded herself. You cannot like his possessiveness. You cannot fall for it. He forced you into marriage, and you dislike him. You’re simply biding your time until the deal is over.

  If only that was true, because with each day that passes, her feeling of resentment for her husband is dwindling, and turning into something far more powerful.

  “Remind me why I agreed to this again?” Namoriee mumbled, fighting her yawn.

  “Because, my husband is a moron and doesn’t see the value in women other than impregnating them and making them fat.”

  There was a decidedly bitter hue in Leawyn’s tone when she said that, another sign of her violent mood swings she seemed to inherit this pregnancy.

  Namoriee eyed Leawyn when she drew her bow back with savage intent and released. The arrow made a whistling sound and then a hard thwack when it imbanded itself through the apple and into the bark of the tree of which branch it was sitting on.

  “Perhaps this isn’t the best time to practice.”

  Leawyn shot her a look. “Do you want to learn how to protect yourself, or not?”

  Wisely, Namoriee kept her mouth shut, to which seemed to satisfy Leawyn as she set down her bow and once again started to lay out the different bows on the ground for their students. They have been meeting in secret for months now, after Xavier had flatly refused Leawyn’s request to start training female warriors.

  “Women fighters have always been a part of our history!” Leawyn had said, “It is by men like you that had ensured that the tradition would die.”

  “And why do you think that is?” Xavier had growled back at her, irritation clear on his face as he glared at the tiny spitfire that was his wife.

  “Because you’re a bigot and you can’t handle the fact that women might actually have more of a purpose than spreading our legs and letting you shove your cock inside to breed your evil, dimwitted, spawns!”

  It got blurry after that, as Namoriee was swiftly ordered to leave them alone, which was in her experience meant that they were about to have another loud session of their lovemaking. She didn’t know what it was between them, but Xavier almost seemed to get glee when Leawyn defies him, even if he was annoyed at her. Leawyn likewise seemed to take pleasure in whatever act Xavier does for punishment for her insolence. She couldn’t understand how a marriage that mainly consists of fighting worked, but it did for them.

  The problem with their secret training sessions was that they were only able to do it in the middle of the night, which meant for Namoriee to sneak out of her hut. Tyronian was a light sleeper, and he kept at least one part of his body draped across hers, which meant that she couldn’t even sneeze without him knowing about it, and she knew it was the same for Leawyn, so she couldn’t understand how she was able to sneak out all the time. When she asked her, Leawyn had gave her the most deviously smug smirk, that looked like it didn’t belong on such an angelic face.

  “Namoriee, you’re a healer. You must know that there are certain ways to drug a person for sleep, do you not?”

  Namoriee almost felt sorry for Xavier because surely, he didn’t know how wicked his wife was able to be—like having his evening drink drugged so that they could practice the ancient art of woman warriors behind his back. Not that she was any better, as she now started to do the same to Tyronian.

  She still felt guilty about that.

  A twig snapped to their right, causing them to look over and watch the leaves rustle for a bit until Garnette pushed through. Namoriee’s brows rose in surprise.

  “What are you doing out of bed?”

  Garnette shot Namoriee a toothy grin, brandishing the one missing in the front. “I want to learn how to be a warrior.”

  Leawyn and Namoriee shared a look. Namoriee shook her head, gesturing to Garnette as if to say ‘you handle it. This was your idea.’ to which Leawyn responded by widening her eyes dramatically, her lips pursing as if to say, ‘I don’t want to handle it, I can never say no to her.’

  They continued to argue with each other silently until Namoriee sighed, all heavy like, and crouched so that she was eye-level with the eight-year-old.

  “Garnette,” she started, her tone gentle. “You can’t tr
ain with us. You’re too young.”

  Garnette’s face scrunched up, a mix between a pout and an angry expression. “Castic told me he started to practice for his time in the warrior choosing when he was littler than me and he shoots good,” Garnette pointed out.

  “Yes, but that’s because he’s a boy.”

  Garnette straightened, a look of determination on her face. “Lady Leawyn fought in a war. I heard my pa say that she’s the best with the bow, and she’s a woman.”

  Leawyn made a weird choking sound, and Namoriee was stumped for a moment because she made a valid point, but before she could try and attempt to save the direction of the conversation, Garnette continued.

  “Castic says that he’ll protect me always, because he loves me, but he’s training to be a warrior, and if I don’t too, he’ll forget about me,” Garnette said solemnly.

  “Garnette,” Namoriee said softly, grabbing the girl’s hands and holding them. “I don’t think Castic will ever be able to forget about you.”

  Garnette looked away, biting her lip. She brought her attention back to them, but this time she looked at Leawyn, her voice growing stronger.

  “I heard what everyone is said about you, you shot the bad man who tried to attack us and saved the Chief. If I learn, then maybe…maybe I can save Castic, too. I want to learn, Lady Chief. Please let me.”

  Namoriee’s heart just about shattered, and she couldn’t help but sniffle a little, blinking against the liquid that started to make her eyes misty. She heard Leawyn sigh from behind her. Namoriee moved out of the way for that Leawyn could take her place. She bent, as much as her stomach would allow, and looked at Garnette with grave seriousness.

  “You mustn’t tell anyone, Garnette,” Leawyn told her.

  “Not even Castic?”

  “Especially Castic,” Leawyn stressed. She smoothed back Garnette’s hair, that was becoming long, and curly. “This is our secret. How do you think Castic will react if he were to find out?”

  Garnette paused thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t like it if I can get hurt. He says that when I get hurt it makes him feel sad. That’s why I try really hard to be a good girl, just like momma tells me, so that he won’t be sad.”

  Garnette paused again, then said, “but even though I don’t mean to, I am bad because I’m too curious which will make boys not like me because I don’t listen and won’t make a good wife someday unless I get help.”

  “Who said that?” Namoriee asked, offended on her behalf.

  “Karneer. That’s why Castic punched him.” Garnette looked up sheepishly at Leawyn from beneath her lashes.

  “Castic got punished because of me, but when I tried to tell the Chief that, he said that Castic was protecting my honor, and that it would make Castic upset if I tried to take his punishment in his place, I didn’t want to do that, because I don’t like when I make Castic upset.”

  This was all said in about two breathes, and Namoriee was a bit amazed that Garnette could talk this fast.

  “Xavier said that?” Leawyn asked, a small, dreamy smile quirking her lips.

  “Oh yes,” Garnette’s hair swished back and forth from her nod. “He said I need not to protect Castic when he’s a warrior but be there for him when he’s a man. Though, he didn’t tell me what that meant when I asked him. So, I kind of just agreed with him because the chief was being nice and that, like, never happens.” Garnette stressed in conspiracy, eyes wide.

  Namoriee glanced at Leawyn, startled to see that she was crying.

  “Err…Leawyn?” Namoriee asked awkwardly, looking between her and Garnette, who was starting to look scared that she did something wrong.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just—” Leawyn sniffed, “I can’t believe after all this time, he finally—” a half cough, half sob escaped her, but she rallied herself, though she was still weepy when she locked eyes with Garnette.

  “I want you to promise me that you’ll remember what he said Garnette, alright? Even when you get bigger, and the seasons change, you don’t ever forget. Do you promise?”

  Garnette nodded, but still looked confused. “But I don’t understand what he meant.”

  “You will,” Leawyn promised, wistfulness juxtaposed in her tone with sadness. “One day, you will.”

  Leawyn turned to her, already starting to take off her leather guards on her wrist. “You take over for tonight. Keep them practicing on form.” Leawyn shoved the wrist guards to Namoriee, who clumsily caught them.

  “But, uh, where are you going?” Namoriee spluttered, watching Leawyn with her mouth agape.

  “I need to figure out how to wake my husband. I suddenly have a desperate urge to show the brute how much I love him.”

  Namoriee snapped her mouth closed at that with an audible pop, and the darkness swallowed Leawyn after the leaves she pushed through met back together until only the crickets remained talking.

  “What does that even mean, show him?” Garnette piped up beside her, shattering the silence. “How does she do that? Can’t she just say she loves him?”

  Namoriee quickly started her training after that, because no way was she going to go near answering that question.

  “Avoiding me again?”

  Namoriee winced, hearing the disappointed lilt in the masculine voice that spoke from behind her. She turned to face him.

  “No?”

  His lips twitched, as if fighting a smile. He moved over to her, cocking a brow when he stood in front of her fully. “You really gonna go this route again?”

  Gentle fingers nudged her chin up when she went to look away. He gazed at her face, frowning in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  What’s wrong is that time was escaping her. The days were blurring together in one big, blissful stream and Tyronian was doing everything right.

  He was gentle with her, caring. She knew firsthand how profound his desire was for her, yet he treated her like a precious jewel he didn’t want to tarnish and break. He was so demanding two years ago. He made sure that she knew that he staked his claim, and that she wouldn’t escape him nor have a choice in the matter. He warned her that she was going to be his the moment after her eighteenth winter and each winter that passed, it was a contradiction of fear and excitement that had coursed through her. He was the being that lurked in the shadows, patient and watchful for his time to strike.

  She was fully prepared to hate him—she counted on hating him—but she didn’t.

  She couldn’t

  He made it nearly impossible. It was maddening, and it frightened her. She needed her space to think, so she went to the only place she knew she would find solace.

  “How did you know I would be here?”

  He grinned, glancing around at the small space of the now vacant hut. “I knew you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, so Aggod and Leawyn were out. Once I saw you weren’t with the horses, I thought about what the farthest place would be away from the village that you would escape to.” He encompassed the space around them with his hand. “That leaves your old hut.”

  “You think you know me well, then?” Namoriee scorned, moving to brushing past him but strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her. Another frown knitted Tyronian’s forehead.

  “Did I do something to upset you?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Everything is wrong!” She wrenched her arm out of his grip, taking a stepping back.

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything! For the love of the Goddess Ianna, how can you even ask that?” she rolled her eyes. “You stalked me! You followed my every move, butted into every aspect of my life since I was sixteen! You were so far down my throat, you made it impossible to breathe without the taste of you!” She laughed, but it was anything but humorous.

  “You forced me to marry you. You took my freewill away and made me agree to a bargain that I regret!” Her throat grew tight, and her eyes prickled, on the verge of crying, but she continued.

  “You didn’t let me
live!” The last part was said in a scream.

  It got deathly still between them. The weight on her chest lifted, and with a horrified gasp, she realized what she just did. Her resentment and fear escaped their bonds of silence that she shoved them into, until she just combusted.

  She just spilled her darkest secret.

  She risked a glance at Tyronian, and felt her stomach bottoming out at the blank expression on his face. She stumbled back a step when he took one forward.

  “Tyronian, I-I d-didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t,” he stopped her. She could hear the pulsing darkness in his tone. “Don’t you dare think about lying to me right now.”

  She started to tremble, physical evidence that she was fighting her urge to run. The last time she had seen this unemotional calmness was during the warrior choosing when he challenged Cantos and chopped off his head.

  It was terrifying.

  She couldn’t help but flinch when he brought his hand up. It was the wrong move, because if anything, his blue eyes darkened more with ferocity, nostrils flaring.

  “Do you really think I would hit you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Answer me!” She jumped when he slapped the wall beside her head with his yell. She hadn’t realized that she was backing towards the door.

  “When have I ever given you the impression that I hit women?” he growled, his anger at her practically tangible.

  “N-never,” she whispered.

  “Never!” he yelled down at her, making her jump again. “I have never hit you, nor will I ever. So, don’t you ever flinch like that again, do you hear me?”

  “I’m s-sorry,” she choked out. She didn’t know what else to say. He pushed away, taking several steps back away from her. She could see that he was visibly trying to compose himself. She looked away and stayed where she was, hugging her arms to herself.

  “You hate the smell of sage.” She looked up in surprised, and he pinned her with his gaze. “Sage is one of the main properties Aggod uses when she heals…you hate the smell of it. Your nose would scrunch up just the slightest bit, and you would try to hold your breath.”