Calli felt Marrec’s simmering anger at her. He headed toward their suite, but instead of going to the rooms, he took the stairway to the Castle walls. She accompanied him, and a bit of recollection from their bloodbonding came to mind. When Marrec was very upset he walked the walls.
His previous room had been tiny, about twelve-by-twelve feet and no good for pacing. He liked the space without high walls, and the perspective of looking out on the land he fought for, and the fact that he could walk. He usually paced the length of the wall between Horseshoe Hall and the keep and back. He didn’t fly on Dark Lance, as she would have Thunder, because he’d never known when they would fight again and he would not endanger his volaran by tiring him.
With that knowledge, she learned that he hadn’t walked the walls since they had bonded. He’d never been perturbed enough. Not liking his mood, but not wanting to leave him, Calli accompanied him. The ramparts were wide enough for three abreast.
They’d strode to the keep wall next to Alexa’s tower and halfway back before he spoke.
“A baby should not be kept in an armed encampment.”
She swallowed hard. “I know.” She kept her eyes level with his. “Sometimes a greater need must be served at the cost of personal desires.” She hardly believed she was saying this. Always, always, she’d done whatever needed to be done with the single goal of making her home better.
His expression set. He was such a quiet man, such a controlled one, it took real observation to know what he felt…or a bond. She put her hand on his forearm and he jerked it away. When he spoke, his tone was soft and mild, more evidence of his control and completely opposite what she knew he really felt. “Our primary goal has been to make a home for our child—and children to come. We have been in accord, and focused on that. It should remain our single purpose.”
Oh, this was going to be rough. This was going to be big.
26
Inhaling deeply, Calli let her breath out on a rough whoosh, then said, “The best way to ensure our children’s future is to defeat the Dark. I want this over. Over before our children are of age to become Chevaliers or Marshalls. Over before Diaminta wants to fight.”
“You plan on staying at the encampment?”
“I…it depends.”
He glanced at her. “This will take zhiv, too. Tents for y—us, for our squires. Camping equipment.”
She wanted to apologize but wouldn’t. Instead she lifted her chin. “This will save us energy, too.”
He laughed harshly. “It will add tension, being away from our child.” Turning, he looked out at the rolling landscape to the west of the Castle, but Calli didn’t think he saw it. She stepped closer, not quite brushing against him.
“I don’t want to keep Diaminta here at the Castle when everyone else is gone,” he said.
“I’m sure we’ll be on rotation in the camp, too—”
“Doesn’t matter.” His hands flexed. “Our estate is close enough for us to go home between rotations.”
Calli licked her lips. “If we will be traveling between our estate and the camp, it will defeat the purpose of being less tired.”
He seared her with a look. “But it will keep our child safe. Will you not travel back and forth with me?”
She couldn’t answer.
His expression hardened. “I see. You leave your child.”
“I am not abandoning my daughter!” she cried. Far too out of control. She breathed deeply. Looking at Marrec from behind a film of tears, she said, “I must be there. People depend upon me, will expect me to be there all the time. I am the Chevalier Exotique. I fight. That’s my definition.”
Another big breath. “I can’t split my concentration between here and my home, like you do. I’m not so good a fighter that I can just turn off battle scenes in my head. I don’t want to get us killed.”
He sat next to her and put his arm around her, but he was still stiff with his own anger. “You are strong enough to do whatever you must. That means putting your child first.”
“She doesn’t even want me!” Another cry that tore from her heart. She’d loved her mother, wanted her. She wasn’t abandoning her daughter for another man, a richer lifestyle. Gulping, she dried her eyes and wiped her nose. “I know I have to be there for her to learn to love. But I’ll come home once a week or so. Why is that not enough?”
“Because she needs you more often. You owe us as much attention as the Chevaliers and Marshalls. Fall is coming on, and winter. Our estate must be readied for it. There’s much to do.”
She really looked at him, the man. He carried himself differently—like a man who is certain of his future, a man of property and responsibility. Not quite the noble…yet.
“I will be spending more time at our home,” he said.
“I understand, and that’s…that’s the way it should be.” Again she wanted to touch him. Again she didn’t. It was hard reaching for someone and being rejected.
By the end of the week, arrangements had been made for a cantonment to the north. The distance between the Castle and the encampment seemed less than the emotional gulf between herself and Marrec. And there was no magical spell to breach it.
They talked little, at each other more than with each other. Marrec had done his duty as a Chevalier, flying to battle, buying a two-room tent and bivouac equipment. They flew to the place with the last wave of Marshalls and Chevaliers one evening, arriving to see the tent city still going up later than scheduled. Marrec would ensure their camp quarters were acceptable, then fly back to the Castle in the morning and transfer Diaminta and their household goods to their home. He’d stay on their estate until the morning of their every-third-day shift.
Calli would stay behind, learning, training, meeting. She loathed it, but felt that was her duty. Unable to stay with Marrec as he worked with his squires, she walked the perimeter of the large camp, finally stopping on a low ridge to the northwest of the rising city, still pondering her decisions. Like it or not, she felt she owed the volarans, the Exotiques, the Chevaliers for giving her their trust.
She stood on the hill for a while, and when she looked down, she blinked. Though Calli hadn’t known what to expect, the colorful tents surprised her. The Lladranan forces may not have lived in the field for some time, but they knew what they were doing. Seeva and Marwey had been the primary designers of the city.
The camp had been set up, with tents in angled lines—of a star, a pentagram. At the end of the points were fires—common areas. The walkways were along the points, down to a center pentagon where large canvas pavilions stood. Between the arms and upper point were volaran areas. Interesting.
With that thought, she looked for Marian and Jaquar’s pavilion, with a flag showing a whirlwind casting off lightning bolts. Their tent marked the entrance to the southeastern point, slightly outside the cluster of the Marshalls’ pavilions in the middle of the pentagon.
In the exact center of everything was the largest pavilion of several rooms. It shone as if it were truly made of malachite—Thealia Germaine’s and her Shield’s tent. It might even have an inside fire, though that sounded scary to Calli. She supposed Power would handle any fire.
The smallest pup tents, standard issue for the lowest of Chevaliers, were near the end of the points. The size got larger as they approached the middle…generally. Calli noticed a big tent ruining the symmetry near the top of the northern point. Since a flag—with red trident, a Maserati trident—waved, she figured it was Koz’s and snorted.
Narrowing her eyes, she could see the black and silver of her new tent, with a flag sporting a flying volaran, on the opening to the east point. Their pavilion had two rooms. One for sleeping and one for gathering. She glanced at the evening sky and sniffed the air. No sign of rain, and that was good.
Seeva called up to her. “Calli, I have someone I want you to meet!” She and her companion, a middle-aged man only a little overweight, climbed the hill. Calli cursed inwardly, slapped a smile on her face. She
’d seen the guy in passing, the owner of this land, a noble. “Sleaze” alarm bells went off inside her.
Calli wasn’t used to slick opportunists in Lladrana. She’d run across the revulsion reaction, of course, had been condescended to by the rich, arrogant and haughty, but hadn’t met anyone where she’d wanted to shower after being in their presence. Probably because the folk she associated with were dedicated—obsessed—with defeating the invading Dark. Landowners that didn’t fight with the Marshalls and Chevaliers she didn’t meet.
By the time they’d arrived, Calli had set her personal Shields high and wrapped her Song tight. Seeva had linked arms with the man, her attitude one of pleasure with a hint of seduction. “Calli Gardpont, may I present Threo Veenlit, the lord of this land. He’s generously offering it for our encampment.”
Not that generously. Calli herself had handed over three prime dreeth claws, and both Lady Hallard and Swordmarshall Thealia had exited the “negotiations” with pinched mouths.
Calli inclined her torso. Seeva frowned at her and Calli reluctantly offered her hand.
“Ah, another Exotique.” Lord Veenlit took her fingers in his soft, damp hand, tried a mindprobe and, when that didn’t work, slithered his own Song along hers to read. Natural enough, Calli supposed, after all they were on his land, but it felt rude.
Even with a physical connection, she heard little of his Song—some brassy notes that actually sounded like a donkey braying. She smiled genuinely.
His heavy features returned the smile. “Quite, quite unusual coloring. Stunning,” he said, eyelids lowered but still showing a gleam of sexual calculation.
Withdrawing her hand, Calli said. “I thank you again.”
“Not at all, not at all.” He waved her words away. “I met your husband, a very excellent Chevalier.”
“Yes, he is.”
Veenlit chuckled. “He was looking for Lord Faucon Creusse, but I don’t think that one has arrived yet.”
Veenlit would make it his business to know when one of the wealthiest Lords of Lladrana arrived. “I still don’t see Creusse’s pavilion.” His eyes glittered avid satisfaction as he surveyed the small village below. Then he scowled. “What’s that?”
“Exotique Circlet Marian Harasta Dumont’s pavilion,” Calli said.
“I authorized no Circlets on my land!”
Sounded as if Marian would have to do her work of integrating Circlets with nobles again.
Well, surely there was one thing the man respected. “I’m sure you can negotiate with the Circlets for rent,” Calli said.
He jerked straight as if he were a puppet on a string, rubbed his hands. “Quite true, quite true.” Absentmindedly he bowed to Calli, his gaze still on Marian and Jaquar’s tent. “Honored,” he said. “You will see me and my chief Chevalier, Raoul Lebeau, in camp.” He pointed to a gaudy pavilion of red and yellow just inside the entrance to the northern star point. His sigil was a dagger.
“You’re going to stay here?”
He nodded. “My manor is quite a ways from here, alas.” Making a quick bow, he said, “Until later,” then descended the hill.
Seeva started after him, but Calli stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Seeva, how could you associate with him? He’s greedy, only after what he can get.”
The younger woman lifted her chin. “At least he’s honest about that. He’s not being a savior. He sees his Chevaliers as people, not counters on a game board, not expendable. And for me, that’s refreshing.”
The man was sleazy. Calli didn’t know “sleazy,” in Lladranan.
But Seeva was on a roll. “And he listens to me. That’s damn refreshing, too.”
“You’re Head of Staff of Horseshoe Hall.”
Her face fell into dissatisfied lines. “When I wasn’t shaping up to be an extraordinary Chevalier and disappointing my mother, I turned to what I did better, which was managing the household.” She grimaced again. “Not even the whole estate, like you and Marrec do, just the household. Then there was an opening in Horseshoe Hall and Mother brought me in over everyone else.” Her arms crossed. “Which made a lot of people dislike me, and my job a hundred times worse. I haven’t even won my reins, I may never have it in me to win my reins. I’ve been a Chevalier in name only. People hate me.”
Calli had seen no evidence of that—but she’d been living in a little sheltered world of her own.
Seeva sniffed, met Calli’s gaze. “I have never been able to do exactly what I want.”
Well, who had? Calli fumbled for words. “And how does being with Lord Veenlit change that?”
Lip curling, Seeva said, “My skills have brought me here, and he can give me what I want.”
“Which is?”
“A home of my own, if I work it right.” Her laugh was bitter. “One thing that Mother has given me—prominence in the noble circles. I may even be able to get some sort of dowry like my sisters.”
“Seeva!” Veenlit called, hovering outside the Circlets’ tent. Obviously he wanted her to smooth any transaction.
She turned on her heel and went toward him, leaving Calli in the dying daylight.
A tremor of fear shivered through Calli at the thought that this could be Diaminta in twenty years as she herself focused on the continuing fight for Lladrana, ignoring her daughter. Her fingers clenched. No, that would not happen. She would not let that happen.
Not then and not now. Her small progress with Diaminta was disenheartening, but she’d continue. Slow and easy. She would not physically abandon her daughter as her own mother had her. She would not emotionally abandon her daughter as her father had her.
There had to come a time when she believed her duty to the volarans and Chevaliers was done—except for training. Then she’d put her family first. And why did that echo so hollowly?
By the time she walked down the hill, Veenlit was exiting the Circlets’ pavilion, a small leather bag firmly in his grasp. Seeva murmured goodbyes, then both of them angled toward Calli. She stifled a sigh. When they met, another man joined them, wearing red and yellow. Calli blinked and blinked again at him. His was the most exquisite male face she’d seen on Lladrana, including Luthan Vauxveau and Faucon Creusse, both handsome men.
“Raoul Lebeau,” Lord Veenlit said, smiling.
The Chevalier bowed gracefully before Calli. “Welcome to my Lord’s lands, Bella Dama,” he said in a well-modulated voice.
She could do nothing but let him brush a kiss on her fingers, though she was getting bad vibes from him, too.
“Raoul, we part ways here. Walk the Lady Exotique to her pavilion.”
“My pleasure.”
Calli said good-night to Seeva and Veenlit, ignoring the fact that he and Seeva went into his tent together, and said nothing when Raoul tried to amuse with his comments on others. The Chevalier wasn’t snide or malicious, and might well have made her smile if she’d been in a better mood. She managed a polite dismissal when they reached her tent, and stepped back before he could do anything more.
Lifting the flap, she entered and stopped when she saw a huge, foot-long hamster sitting on her weapons chest. She cleared her throat. Salutations, Tuckerinal.
“Salutations, Calli,” he squeaked in perfect Lladranan.
“Why are you here?”
He smiled and it warmed her heart. “To sing you to sleep.”
She stared at him. “Sing me to sleep?”
“Ayes.”
“Oh-kay.” She went into the bedroom and undressed. When she turned down the covers of the mattress and slipped onto the bed, feeling all the aches of her body as she settled, he opened his mouth. “Shenandoah” rolled out, played by a full orchestra, that melded into a hauntingly beautiful tune that had tears stinging her eyes. She was so far from ho—Earth, caught in an alien land.
Thunder’s mind touched hers, content and supportive, and she sensed more volarans, too. She swallowed. She loved the volarans. Loved Lladrana.
Loved Marrec and her child. Perhaps she
should abandon the camp and go home—to her true home, here in the Lladranan mountains.
It is not yet time for you to only teach and train, Tuckerinal said, even as his rounded mouth poured out a slow country waltz. She turned her head and saw his big, protuberant eyes gleaming, yet they held wisdom and sadness. Not yet time.
Not yet time, whispered Thunder in her mind.
Not yet time, said Sinafinal.
Her heart ached, and sleep claimed her.
Marrec came to her. He slipped in, his skin cool with night, and she turned to him and warmed him.
His steady, caressing touch on her, stroking her to arousal, brought futile tears. She touched him, too, telling him with her fingers, with the rising notes of her personal Song that melded with his, that she loved him, though she couldn’t say the words. The deep richness of their Song echoed long in her mind after he’d fallen asleep in her arms.
The next morning when the tent filled with the tension of their disagreement and low, angry voices, it was as if the tender night had never been.
“This new tent is another expense.” He locked his hands behind his back.
She started to apologize, stopped. Just for a moment he reminded her of her father. “We are needed here.”
“Alexa is needed here. She’s a fighter first and foremost, that’s why she was Summoned.”
She turned to him, wanted to touch him, wanted the affection that had flowed between them. God help her, she’d become addicted to that, and now it was gone. “It’s not for long, just until we find out why the horrors are targeting this area.”
“To draw us in—you and me—to kill us.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
He shrugged. “Don’t you think I’ve noticed the miasma that has surrounded us at the Castle, on the battlefield? No open attacks, just…an evil pressure.”
“What?”
“You haven’t realized that?”
“I…no.” She was shaken and it came out as stiffness in her voice, an obvious accent. “I don’t always recognize nuances of Power.”
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