by Tj Shaw
As he picked up the small blade and handed it back to her, his scolding words ricocheted throughout the room like dive-bombing fireflies. “Not paying attention to your surroundings was your first mistake. If I was the enemy, you’d be dead. Dropping your weapon was your second.”
With an agile spin on his heel that prompted his grey ponytail to swish back and forth like a cat twitching its tail, his gruff voice drifted over his shoulder. “Keep the dirk. If you want to learn how to properly handle the weapons you play with, meet me in the small clearing above the north hunting pasture tomorrow after the trainees. Don’t be late,” he shouted as the door slammed behind him.
She’d stood motionless for several minutes after Master Dupree’s exit, but as his words sank in, a small kernel of excitement had unfurled inside her. The master trainer had just bestowed a great honor, one that could get him—and her—into trouble. Self-preservation warned against going to the clearing. But her life had become such drudgery that she couldn’t ignore the invitation.
Master Dupree became her sparring partner, pushing her harder than the men. And although her body was often so sore or bruised she could hardly move the next day, she always went back. He taught her how to fight with a sword and dirk, how to grapple, and perfected her skill with the longbow to such an extent that he’d praised her for being better than his other trainees. But most of all, he had become her friend—the best gift he could’ve given her. She turned away from the window blinking away tears.
A soft knock at the door was her only warning before Milly entered. Never one for formality, Milly always barged into her room without waiting for approval. Carina’s eyes widened in surprise when Milly properly addressed her.
“Are you all packed, my lady?” Milly stood at attention.
“Why did you say that?”
“What?” Milly asked with an innocent lift of an eyebrow.
“My lady.” Carina rolled her eyes. “You’ve never called me a lady.”
“Pshh,” Milly scoffed with a wave of her hand, dismissing any pretense. “Because you’ve never been chosen as a mistress before.” A mischievous glint burned in Milly’s eye and she laughed with delight. “Oh, Carina, I would’ve given anything to see Marissa’s face.”
Carina smiled. A deep sense of satisfaction rippled over her skin knowing Marek had chosen her. She barely knew him, yet for the first time in her life someone had noticed her and her entire body glowed in the warmth of that knowledge.
“Ah, good,” Milly said, nodding in approval. “You’re packed.” She walked over to the bag and tied it. “I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
Fear knotted Carina’s stomach at the thought of leaving the only home she’d ever known. She sat at the foot of the small bed and clasped her hands together in her lap. Milly plopped down beside her and placed a comforting arm around her waist.
“Sweetie,” Milly whispered. “You know King McKay will never accept you as his daughter.”
Carina knifed her hands between her legs and tried to ignore the onslaught of tears. “Why, Milly? Why doesn’t he love me?”
“Because dear one, his heart is small and he only has room for two, Marissa and himself.” Milly rested her head on Carina’s shoulder. “Haven’t I always looked after you?”
Carina nodded, splashing tears onto her riding pants.
“Go with King Duncan and be happy,” she urged. “He seems nice and fair. With him you have a chance at a good life. If you stay here, you’ll grow old long before your time.”
Carina clutched Milly’s calloused hands. “You and Master Dupree are my only friends. What will I do without you?” She choked down a sob as a fresh set of tears tumbled over her lashes.
Milly pulled Carina into a tight hug and rubbed her back while making little shhh-ing noises. “You’ll do fine, Carina. You’re strong and so like your mother.”
Carina buried her head into Milly’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you.”
“Then honor me by being the brave woman I know you are.” Milly squeezed Carina one more time before releasing her. “Meet me downstairs in two minutes.” She raised two fingers to stress her point before grabbing Carina’s travel bag and disappearing through the door.
Carina stood, and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. After a final glance, she walked out the door knowing she’d never see her little room again.
11 – FAREWELLS
Marek, his riders, and twelve Critons fidgeted within the confines of the graveled driveway. Most of Regin’s household staff also stood in a line to the left of the front door. Having so many servants present made for a good showing indicating a king’s wealth.
Leaning against FireStrike, Marek exhaled a long, slow breath and waited. A whine emanating from the guest barn drew his attention. He followed the noise down the hill to find Mira chained to a hitching post. The agitated Criton had clawed a shallow depression in the ground in an attempt to free herself.
Like a supernova, Carina threw the door open and stood in the doorway, blinding him with her radiance. Her dark eyes scanned the area, absorbing the organized chaos. Her hair draped across her shoulders and framed her face in a sensual beauty. She wore a pair of tan riding pants with a matching long sleeve shirt. Intricate beadwork adorned the top of the blouse while a few short pieces of fringe threaded with beads hung from her shoulders, accentuating her chocolate eyes.
He stepped forward to greet her, but his voice grated across his vocal cords. “Hurry and say your farewells. I want to be at the base of the Arrakans by nightfall.”
“Yes, King Duncan,” she murmured with a slight frown.
As Carina walked toward King McKay, a twinge of guilt pressed at his mind for his harsh tone. He’d been around vindictive women enough to know that Marissa’s claim wasn’t necessarily true. And it was his fault for not inquiring into Carina’s purity—he’d simply assumed she remained untouched. He swore under his breath for allowing Marissa’s words to fester beneath his skin. He’d chosen his path—a path he and Carina would travel together, regardless of the consequences. So, Marissa’s accusations shouldn’t bother him.
He stroked FireStrike’s thick neck, encouraging his restless Criton to stand still amid the milling throng of people and animals as Carina prepared to leave her old life behind. She hugged Regin who patted her awkwardly on the back before she dipped into a small curtsy for Marissa who sniffed and turned her head.
When Carina approached a short, robust servant, the woman pulled her into a huge hug and started crying. Carina moved faster down the line with the other servants until she reached the master trainer. Startled to see him standing there, Marek decided Regin had ordered his presence. But Marek’s amusement vanished when Carina threw her arms around the master trainer’s neck and the man embraced her in return. Marek inhaled sharply at their contact, and with deliberate effort, kept his hands from fisting as Marissa’s words whispered through his mind.
When they stepped apart, the master trainer presented Carina with a wrapped bundle. Even from his vantage point, Marek could tell the deerskin sheath contained a longbow, and from the bulge at one end, a quiver full of arrows. A smaller leather case held what appeared to be a sword. He glanced at Regin, surprised that the king would allow women to train, but smiled at the scowl on the Regin’s face. The master trainer risked much by giving Carina the weapons. Marek’s respect for Carina grew as he wondered what else, aside from riding Critons, she’d kept hidden from her father.
Her eyes were red when she approached him, but she held her head high. A spark of pride surged through him at her courage. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I just need to get Mira.” She turned for the barn, but Regin stepped forward and held up a hand.
“Wait.”
“Yes, Father?”
Regin hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his gold-threaded, red vest and rocked back on his heels. “Where are you going?”
Marek’s eyes narrowed as the realization hit Carin
a like she’d been slapped in the face.
“To release Mira,” she whispered.
Marissa snickered and covered her mouth with a gloved hand.
Regin shook his head. “Our arrangement didn’t include Mira. The Criton stays.”
Carina walked over to Regin and reached out to touch him, but paused. Instead, she turned the palm of her hand up and extended her fingers in an appealing gesture. Her voice quavered. “Please, Father. You don’t even think Mira will amount to anything.”
Regin spun and returned to Marissa’s side. “Mira stays until the Caller bonds her to a rider.” He smiled and patted Marissa’s hand.
“But I raised her—”
“And you did a fine job, but Critons are not pets.”
“To call Mira yours would be selfish,” Marissa added with a solemn nod.
Regin’s voice lowered. “This conversation is over. That Criton should’ve been part of the negotiation if you wanted her.”
As if Mira knew she was the topic of discussion, the little beast issued a low, plaintive wail before slamming her tail against the metal hitching post.
Marek could only see Carina’s profile, but he noticed her cringe when Mira’s tail smacked the rail. Although Carina stood tall, the single tear that bubbled over her eyelid and tumbled down her cheek betrayed her. Seeing her pain and McKay’s indifference ignited a primitive urge to protect what Marek now considered his. He couldn’t explain the irrational feeling coursing through his blood, but it gripped him with a strength he was powerless to resist.
He stepped in close and placed his hand on the small of Carina’s back. She jumped at his touch, but held her ground and looked at him with large, sorrowful eyes. With forced restraint, he struggled to maintain a measure of decorum. “King McKay, since Carina is fond of this Criton, maybe we can come to an agreement.”
The sparkle in Regin’s eyes at the prospect of increasing his wealth at Carina’s expense turned Marek’s stomach.
“Of course, everything is open to discussion. I’d hate for Carina to leave her precious Criton behind.” Regin tapped his finger against his lips in contemplation. “Because Mira hasn’t transitioned yet, she still has great potential and deserves a high price.”
Of course. Marek thought. Since he’d started the negotiation, he was obliged to continue, but Carina turned and stayed the words in his throat by placing her hand on his chest. Wrapped within his arm, she molded perfectly into his embrace.
With a small, amazing smile, she whispered so only he could hear. “You honor me, but my father enjoys tormenting me in this manner and his offer will be unreasonable.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Please, let’s leave now so he cannot demean me further.”
Marek enfolded his hand over hers, keeping both their hands on his chest. Her eyes widened as if she just realized they were touching. “Are you certain?”
Tears loomed, but she blinked them away. “Yes, Marek. Please, take me from this place.”
Using his name to make her request whispered through him like a soft wind, but commanded him with the force of a hurricane, and he could not deny her. “Then so shall it be,” he murmured.
“Never mind, King McKay. Carina has changed her mind.” Marek almost smiled when Regin’s mouth dropped open in a momentary lapse of composure.
Marek guided Carina to FireStrike. After securing her newly acquired weapons, he stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle. When Carina secured her foot in the stirrup, he pulled her up so she could sit behind him.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
With a gentle nudge, FireStrike’s muscled hind legs hurtled them off the ground as his powerful wings propelled them upward. FireStrike huffed out a massive roar and his band of Critons answered, jumping into the air to follow their Alpha.
After the bellows subsided, Mira’s screams pierced the countryside. Knowing that the animal’s pitiful wails were ripping Carina’s sensitive heart apart, Marek urged FireStrike into a blistering pace grateful to be leaving King McKay, his horrible daughter, and Mira’s shrieking behind.
12 – FIRST NIGHT
Marek didn’t slow down until they were far beyond McKay’s border. Carina remained a silent shadow at his back, her hands resting on his waist the only indication she sat behind him. Her confidence around the large, intimidating Critons fascinated him. He’d never encountered a woman like her—strong and independent, yet vulnerable in many ways.
He scanned his Criton riders as they fanned out behind him and spotted Sampson on Reeza scouting the terrain below. Sampson had avoided him since his announcement that Carina would become his mistress. He’d offered Sampson no explanation and his captain knew not to ask for one, but Sampson’s disappointment rode plainly on his face.
Maybe he’d not given Marissa much of a chance, but as soon as he’d settled on Carina, a sense of peace had washed over him, soothing his nerves and energizing him at the same time. While Marissa’s fake and artificial demeanor left him cold and hollow, Carina’s genuine smile and sincere heart lay open like a book for him to read and enjoy. With Marissa, he had nothing in common. Carina however, not only captivated his attention but did so without realizing her pull.
She was a contradiction, a cool breeze across his face on a warm day. Instead of being an obligation, for the first time in years he looked forward to spending time in the company of a woman. He would consider Carina a gift bestowed by the Gods for him to unravel and discover.
A stab of jealously chased through his gut at the thought of Carina bedding another man. He tried to rationalize her actions by thinking how lonely her life must have been living with a father and half sister who treated her more as a servant than blood relative. Since she couldn’t find love and companionship with her family, she would naturally look elsewhere.
But no matter how hard he tried, his temper flared at the idea of someone else touching her. Although unreasonable, he couldn’t ignore the possessive emotions hammering through his body. He had no right to be angry over something she might’ve done before he knew her, yet the thoughts and images persisted, slithering around inside his head like an urutu. Marissa had done her job well by planting seeds of doubt.
FireStrike snorted a greeting as Reeza and Sampson glided into a submissive position. “Sire, it’ll be dark in a few hours. If you want a full camp, we need to locate a site large enough to accommodate the tents.”
Marek leaned forward and rested his elbows on the pommel, stretching his back. He knew what his captain was asking without saying the words. If he hadn’t told Sampson of Marissa’s allegation, Carina’s tent would’ve been raised without hesitation. But since her purity now stood in question, Sampson wanted to forgo her tent and have her sleep with the rest of the riders. One less tent meant fewer men would have to stand watch. Looking back, he regretted confiding in Sampson. Although too late to make amends now, he vowed to be more mindful of what he told Sampson in the future.
“A full camp isn’t necessary.”
Sampson nodded and reined Reeza into a downward spiral.
****
The hair on the back of Carina’s neck recognized that a silent message had just passed between the two men. An unheard conversation about her, hidden beneath the words they’d just spoken. She wanted to believe her imagination and insecurities were playing tricks on her, but the uneasy feeling persisted.
When they landed, the sun had just slipped under the horizon relinquishing control to Luna, who hung low in the sky. Son, the smaller moon, wouldn’t appear until Luna had fully risen as if she had to rouse her cautious boy into joining her by bathing the world in a soft light.
Marek’s well trained men assembled camp with a quick and efficient expediency. Tents rose while others walked the perimeter and scouted the area. Fires were built and food prepared. The Critons were released so they could hunt, flying low over the terrain to flush out small game. She had wanted to go with FireStrike and the o
ther Critons, but Marek’s set jaw and firmly pressed lips dashed her hopes. In the end, she stayed out of everyone’s way by sitting on a log near the main fire.
As evening shadows danced through the trees, the soldiers with the earliest watch ate first before disappearing into the gathering darkness to their assigned locations. Carina’s stomach growled as the smell of roasting meat teased her hunger, but too timid to go stand in line, she remained rooted to her log like a mushroom. The men also seemed uncertain about her and kept their distance. Many wouldn’t even look at her, choosing the safest course of action by ignoring her completely. She finally decided to wait for Marek who had disappeared into a tent earlier with Sampson.
In the distance, a dugar howled at the night sky as twilight settled over the camp. The hollow sound ignited a slow shiver up her spine. Dugars were ferocious beasts with long venomous fangs and sharp claws. They traveled in small family groups and were known to prey on weak or aging animals, something she irrationally found dishonorable.
The night sounds and the quiet conversation from the soldiers courageous enough to share her fire lulled her into a peaceful contentment. With her gaze lost in the flickering flames, it took her a moment to realize someone stood beside her. She looked up to see a soldier smiling down at her, holding two plates of food.
“Excuse me, my lady, but I brought you dinner.”
Carina brightened and reached for the plate. “Thank you.” When he turned to leave, she motioned to her log and blurted, “Would you like to sit?”
The soldier glanced around, unsure.
“There’s plenty of room,” she added, realizing she’d grown lonely sitting by herself.
“Very well.” He smiled again and plopped down, careful not to sit too close.
“My name is Carina McKay.”
“I’m Damon Finn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He touched a hand to his chest and bowed his head in greeting. “Now, please eat.” He pointed to her food then took a large bite out of the drumstick on his plate. His eyes widened and he moaned in delight before using the back of his hand to wipe away some wayward juice that had dribbled down his chin.