by D. E. Morris
“Even if you order me, I will not.”
She turned around with raised brows. “Are you actively defying an order of your high queen?”
Killian walked past her to pick up his sword and sheathe it. “Neither my daughter nor myself are legal citizens of Siness.”
“And you no longer have holdings in Ibays, which means High King Connor is not the royal you answer to, either. So what does that make you?”
He shrugged. “Homeless, I suppose, though I do not see you turning me out simply because I would take my daughter with me, and I know how much you love her.” There was nothing teasing in his voice, nothing mocking or challenging. It was all soft and matter-of-fact, and with that ever-present sadness just underneath. It made her curious about the weight he seemed to carry with him wherever he went, but certainly not enough to ask.
“Your Majesty, please.” He stepped closer to her. Ashlynn took an instinctive step back, though he didn't seem to notice. “I could no more return to the castle after seeing you out here alone than you could let my daughter go. I apologize for frightening you and leading you to believe I was someone who would hurt you. I never would. When you came into the stables, I was there checking on my horse. We had a hard ride back from my journey this afternoon and I wanted to make sure a night of rest did her well.”
Guilt threatened to press down on her shoulders, but Ashlynn refused to let it. “Was that your horse I scared away?”
“No, it was one I borrowed. She will find her way back to the stables, I am certain.”
She owed Killian an apology and she knew it, but the words refused to form on her tongue. Every time she looked at him she was reminded of the last time she saw Jessiah, how he towered over her with glee in his eyes over the prospect of her death.
“Are you certain you are unharmed?”
His quiet question, if it was meant to soften her, somehow had the opposite effect. “I am tougher than most women.”
“I have no doubt of that.” His comment made her wandering gaze turn to him once more. There was mystery surrounding Killian that she'd never had the desire to solve. There was not want for it now, really, except that she didn't like things she didn't understand, and she did not understand this man. With a sigh, she motioned him along behind her.
“Come on, then. If you insist on being my escort, we might as well get going.” She walked back through the woods to where she left Snow Steps, her mood lifting and a smile on her lips as she approached him. “Good boy,” she purred, stroking his cheek. “I knew you would still be here.” Taking the reins, she clicked her tongue and he walked calmly behind her. Killian stayed silent as they traversed, though Ashlynn noticed he kept his hand on his sword; either he was paranoid or experienced in keeping someone safe. That was good to know either way.
It didn't take long for them to reach the monastery and for Ashlynn to forget Killian was even with her. As soon as they broke the treeline and the tall spires of the church loomed over her, she was immediately thrown back into a whirl of memories once again. All of them were painful, all of them making her think of Briac.
She tied the reins to a tree trunk, her eyes on the dark windows of the church. “I have never seen it so silent. Even at night they leave candles burning for any traveler that may wander in.”
“It is no great surprise.” Killian stood beside her, reminding her he was there and speaking to her musing. “The old religion of the goddess is dying as the scriptures are more widely accepted. Some of the monks believe not only in the Great Dragon, but in other deities as well, creating their own religion. They feel stronger banded together, as would any other endangered species. Their churches are left to rot or to be converted into something newer.”
“That hardly seems right.” Ashlynn shook her head. “We did not always see eye to eye on certain things, but the brethren were kind to us. They sheltered and fed us, kept us even when they knew of our plans to commit regicide.”
Killian said nothing, but when she started for the door he grabbed her arm. This action alone startled both of them for very different reasons. It was the second time he had handled her that way, stopping her as someone familiar might. Killian immediately realized what he had done and let her go, bowing his head briefly before taking wider steps to reach the doors before Ashlynn could. When he drew his sword, she realized he wanted to make sure it was safe before letting her enter. Instead of fighting his chivalry, she let him open the door and slip inside first, though she was not too far behind him.
It was nearly impossible to see anything within the sanctuary. Hopeful, Ashlynn willed the torches she could make out on either side of the doors to come alive with fyre, but nothing happened. Killian told her to wait there and she obeyed, simply because she could barely make out her hand a few inches from her face. She listened to his feet shuffle away from her and his quiet exclamation when he kicked something unexpected. Then it went silent. Ashlynn counted the seconds. When he was gone for at least a minute she whispered his name into the darkness. Soon enough, his footsteps could be heard again.
Without explanation, he set something on the ground and then reached for one of the torches. With his sword in one hand and the torch in the other, he crouched and struck the metal of the torch with his blade. Nothing happened. He tried again, and again there was nothing. On his third try there was a quick burst of a spark. She heard him take a slow breath in, then strike again in succession until several sparks flew and were caught in a tangle of dead dry grass and scraps of fabric. Killian lowered himself and blew gently until embers grew and turned into a flame. Ashlynn looked at him, impressed and expecting a smile from him, but he was expressionless as he dipped the top of the torch into the flame. When it was lit, he pulled down the second one and lit it as well, then handed it to her.
“You are handy, I will give you that.”
He had nothing to say, leaving Ashlynn perplexed. Even her strictest guard knew how to joke with her and crack a smile now and then. How could Rowan be such a sweet, fun-loving child when someone so stoic and emotionless as Killian raised her? Perhaps emotionless was unkind. There was definitely a burden on his heart. She could hear it every time he spoke.
“It seems the church is empty.”
Ashlynn nodded. She didn't want to explore or go any farther than the main sanctuary. When she thought some of the order might still be there it had been different. There had been the hope of sitting down with those that had not taken the oath of silence and sharing in conversation. Now that it was dark and deserted, it felt like she was a ghost, haunting a place that had once been full of life. Quiet, peaceful life for the most part, but life all the same.
She climbed the few steps at the front of the sanctuary and ran her hand over the cool stone wall. Merrik had done the same thing once. It was the only time she had ever seen him without a sneer on his lips and something close to peace on his face. How strange it was to be standing in the exact same spot he had and remember the hatred and animosity she felt for him before she even knew how truly dangerous he would turn out to be.
The altar behind her was just as she remembered it, and it was painful to look at. This was where she truly lost Briac, where he sacrificed his own life in order to save her and Kenayde. It hadn't felt fair then and it certainly didn't feel any different now. She wondered if it had been repaired and briefly entertained the idea of moving the top of the altar out of the way to see if the secret passage had been covered over again. Instead, she pressed her palm to the flat top and closed her eyes.
Giver, tell Briac how sorry I am, and how very thankful. He was my protector and your faithful servant until the very end.
She never should have gone to the monastery. Feeling the fist of sorrow close around her throat, Ashlynn knew it had been a poor choice. Defiance at being told to stay put drove her to it; what a foolish girl she could still sometimes be.
“Whassat light?”
A slurred, ragged voice came from somewhere deeper inside the churc
h. Killian rushed to Ashlynn's side before she could react and snuffed out her torch. Ushering her to the front doors before him, he waited until she was outside before doing the same to his own. “Over here!” she whispered, pulling him behind a clump of bushes and crouching down. “I thought you said the church was empty.”
“I thought it was.” His hand went to his sword and he turned his head toward the doors, waiting. A few tense moments passed before an old man stumbled out. His clothing was torn and soiled, his long white hair in tangled mats. He had not properly bathed in a long time, evidence of as much drifting to them on the breeze. Ashlynn covered her mouth and nose with her cloak to keep herself from gagging.
“Bloody fireflies,” the old man muttered. He raised a fist and shook it, then drank from a bottle in his other hand, scratched himself, and went back inside without even noticing the horse tied nearby. When the doors closed behind him, both Killian and Ashlynn breathed a sigh of relief. That could have been much worse than a smelly old man. For some reason, the entire situation was amusing to Ashlynn. She giggled behind her cloak and looked at Killian. For the first time since she'd known him, Killian smiled. It made a world of difference.
When Jessiah smiled he showed as many teeth as he could. Charm dripped from whatever words would follow that sly grin and women fell over themselves just to hear him speak. Killian's smile was smaller, much more genuine. It made the edges of his eyes wrinkle while smoothing out the ever-present ones on his brow. Jessiah appeared devilish and mischievous, dangerously good looking when he smiled, while Killian was unexpectedly handsome.
Ashlynn lowered her cloak to return his smile, taking the time to really look at him and see the small differences between the men who would have been twins. “You should smile more often. It makes you look much younger.”
The comment made him chuckle softly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He stood and offered a hand to help her up as well. “It is late. We should get back to...” He trailed off, her hand still in his and his gaze captured by something behind her. Ashlynn pulled her hand free and turned around, immediately crouching down again upon seeing what had Killian's attention. Torches moved through the forest, at least five of them, and they were coming closer to the church with each passing second. Killian drew his sword and lowered himself once more, but scooted closer to Ashlynn. With his voice just a whisper, he asked, “Do you still have your dagger?” She nodded and pulled it from her boot once more.
“No one should be out here,” she replied just as quietly.
“They are hunting for something.” Killian pointed to the torches. “See the way they move, swinging back and forth? These are not simple travelers.”
Ashlynn eyed him. “What did you say your line of work used to be?”
Killian only glanced at her. “I never said.”
Snow Steps gave a whinny, making Ashlynn look in his direction with worry. “They will find my horse.”
“Then we will have to be prepared for what may be coming.” Killian put his finger to his lips, then pulled Ashlynn's hood up to cover her blonde hair. He was gentle as he pulled her closer and ducked her head down, covering her like a bird with a chick. When the group reached within a few feet of where the two were hiding, Killian turned his face downward as well.
“Do you think they went in there?” asked one of the men. “There's a horse over here.”
“It's possible,” said someone else. “This church doesn't look like it's been used recently. And look! Fresh prints right here by the doors!”
“I'll slice 'em through,” said another voice. “Come on. We've got 'em now.”
The doors were tugged open with a quiet groan, and the hunting party disappeared inside. Killian waited only a moment before pulling Ashlynn to her feet. He was quick and nearly silent as he raced across the broken courtyard. There was no cover and they were most vulnerable, but their sudden movement hadn't drawn anyone's attention yet. As soon as they reached the horse, Killian had a plan in mind.
“Give me your dagger.”
Ashlynn waited for Killian to sheath his sword before doing as told. He gripped the hilt of her dagger in his teeth, then, without asking permission, grabbed her by the waist and hefted her up onto the horse's back. “The reins are tied!” Killian took the dagger and sliced through them before handing them to Ashlynn. She took them in one hand and offered her other to pull him up, but he only shook his head.
“You cannot run, not pregnant. Walk as swiftly as you dare, only go. I will stay here to hold them off.”
“Killian, I am not leaving you here to fight alone against five full grown men.”
“It may not even come to that. Besides, I have your dagger as well as my sword. Five men do not stand a chance.”
Had the statement come from someone like Cavalon, a man who was always cocky and self-assured even in the most dire of situations, she would have rolled her eyes and come back at him with a snappy comment. There was something about Killian, however, that made her believe him.
“Please, Your Majesty. The longer you think it over, the more at risk we both are. Ride for the castle, go slow to avoid making too much noise. I will be right behind you.” He didn't give her a chance to argue. Taking Snow Steps by the bridle, he turned the horse around and gave him a gentle shove, sending Ashlynn back into the thick forest. She looked back only once, just in time to see Killian blend into the shadows.
It was counter-intuitive to leave someone behind, but she knew it was the right decision. She would get back to the castle as quickly as possible and send some of the guards out into the woods to help Killian, or retrieve him at the very least since he was without a horse himself. It was tempting to push Snow Steps into a trot but the night had already been a bit too exciting, what with tackling Killian to the ground and fighting with him. If she wanted to keep her child safe, she couldn't take any risks. As it was, Jaryn was going to be furious with her. If he knew she'd been riding at more than a walk on top of leaving the castle, he would likely sleep in his own room for a few nights.
Guilt made her tug on the reins and stop her horse from continuing onward. Jaryn would be upset with her, yes, but she would be even more upset with herself if she left Killian behind and something happened to him. Grunting in frustration, she led Snow Steps back around to retrace the path she'd been on. She only made it a few feet before two men also on horseback appeared from the shadows surrounding her, flanking her and making her stop.
“Hello,” said the one to her left. “Nice evening for a stroll, isn't it?”
Keeping herself calm, Ashlynn smiled warmly. “It is indeed. The sky has been so cloudy of late, I thought to take advantage of this clearer weather and see the stars. Unfortunately it would seem I have lost the rest of my party and got turned around on my way back to the castle.”
“Castle's back that way,” said the other rider with a jerk of his head, “and we didn't see any parties out here, at least not the kind a lady like you would belong to.”
Ashlynn laughed nervously. “Yes, well, as I said, I got turned around. They probably headed back without me and thought I had done the same. A perfectly simple misunderstanding. Thank you for pointing me in the correct direction, gentlemen.” She lifted the reins to turn her horse around once more, but both men pressed their horses closer in and someone else stepped onto the path and knew she was surrounded.
“I don't think you're going anywhere,” said the man to her left. “At least, not yet.”
On instinct, she reached for the dagger in her boot, remembering it was no longer there just a moment too late. When she lifted panic filled eyes, the rider had leaned in close enough so that their faces almost touched. He grinned at her. With surprising speed, he yanked the hood of her cloak down before grabbing a handful of her hair and drawing her head back. “Don't scream,” he said softly, as though he were comforting her. “Don't do anything stupid and this will all be over soon. Now I want you to get down off this fine horse.”
Though she
couldn't move her head, Ashlynn glared at him from the corner of her eye. “How do you expect me to do that like this?”
He glanced at the other man in silent communication. She felt calloused hands grab her and wrap rough, frayed rope around her wrists. His fingers paused upon finding the scars and scratches on her skin, making her jerk away from the touch that felt too intimate. It only made her captor tighten his grip on her hair until it felt as though he would rip it from her scalp. “Now,” he breathed, “hold onto the pommel and get off the horse.” He let go of her, only smirking when she turned to give him the full power of her glare. She did as she was told, looping her tied hands around the pommel of the saddle, clumsily dismounting and almost falling, but catching herself at the last minute. Now she looked around and saw there were almost double the men she thought there were, possibly even more waiting nearby. She had to think quickly. Something had to change in her favor.
Positioned in between her horse and one of the hunter's horses, Ashlynn took a step back to be closer to their rumps. As soon as the rider swung his leg over to dismount, she raised her hands, pushing her palms together before slapping the horse as hard as she could and yelling, “Ha!” The horse whinnied in anger and took off, the rider screaming and scrambling to climb back up, his foot stuck in the stirrup.
“Killian!” She screamed as loudly as she could, praying he would hear her and that he was still alive. Some of the other men around her rushed after the runaway horse, but most stayed with Ashlynn. Snarling, one of them raised his sword to bring it down on her, but she was too quick for him. She ducked out of the way, taking advantage of the momentum of his downward swing and throwing her arms around his head. She pulled the ropes and her wrists tight against his neck as he struggled and spun, lifting her off her feet. Others came to help him but Ashlynn kicked out, managing to hold them off. The ropes began to slip, the knot terribly tied. It burned as it tore and pulled, but Ashlynn held on as long as she could. When the ropes finally gave way, she fell to the ground in an awkward heap.