King's Highlander

by Jessi Gage

  He wrapped her in his arms more securely than any cloak and tasted of her. This woman was pure decadence. The blood that raced in his veins from battle now heated with new purpose, but that purpose could not be fulfilled.

  Reluctantly, he set her away from him. “Hyrk?”

  “Dead.” She peered into the ravine beneath their feet. Half-covered in flowing water was a man dressed in black with hair the color of blood. His eyes stared lifelessly to the sky. His chest was an empty crater, and jutting from its center was Magnus’s dagger. “He must have found an immense source of power to become a dragon. But you were more powerful, my king.” She stood on her toes to kiss him again. “My brave, dragon-slaying king.”

  He welcomed the kiss, but his stomach dropped like a stone as he realized who the figures must be. Forehead pressed to Danu’s, he cut his gaze to the glowing pair. “Seona and your friend, Duff,” he said. He squeezed his eyes shut. “It is time to let you go.”

  His chest rent in two. How would he bear his lifemate returning to her heavenly form? Hands in fists, he cursed himself for bedding her the night before. Now they would both suffer. But Danu would not suffer to the point of death, as he likely would. She would be a goddess, after all. Her power would soothe the ache of being without her lifemate.

  He cupped her jaw and looked deep into her whisky-brown eyes. From this day forward, it would be Seona behind those eyes. He did not know how he would be able to look at the human without stabbing regret. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Danu would be above them all, ruling and blessing them. “How I wish—” His throat closed around a lump of regret. “The portrait,” he said. “I wish—”

  “Oh, Magnus,” her lips landed again and again on his cheeks and beard. “I am staying,” she said, and he was sure he’d heard her wrong. “I am staying.” She repeated the words each time she kissed him, and slowly, he began to trust his ears.

  “You’re staying. Here with me?”

  Her smile was radiant as she said, “Yes, Magnus, my lifemate.”

  Every part of his body went still. “But—” He licked his dry lips and nodded to Seona and Duff. “Then why are they here?”

  “Because I had a choice to make.” Her teeth caught her plump lower lip then released it. Her smile was tentative.

  A choice. She had mentioned her father, who must also be a deity. Duff and Seona were here, as they had planned. Had she been given the choice whether to return to her true form?

  “You chose...me?” He frowned. “But you are needed on your throne. Our people need you.”

  She held his face in both her hands. “They’ll have me. I’ll be on my throne, the one beside yours.”

  His heart stuttered behind his breastplate as he fell into her solemn gaze. Her words were too wonderful to be believed.

  He looked to Duff and Seona. They shone so brightly he could not look directly at them. “What about Seona?” The two figures were nearly of a height. The slightly shorter one shifted on its feet. He assumed that one was Seona. He inclined his head to her. “You would give up your mortal body for Danu?”

  “’Tis no hardship for me,” the being said. Her voice hummed like a hive of bees if the bees could harmonize with each other. The sound was strange. Powerful. And underneath the otherness of it was the burr he associated with Anya. “If she wants that old thing, she can have it.”

  The taller of the figures put an arm around the shorter. “What she means to say is, thank you, Blessed Goddess for the unprecedented, unfathomable gift of deity. I will cherish it always and use this power for the good of the wolfkind people. And what I wish to say is this: Dearest Danu, friend of my heart, it is good to see you happy. Truly happy. As I cared for your moonstone, I will care for your realm. I will only ever be a summons away.”

  Waves of light shivered around the pair as they exited the sphere.

  Magnus watched them float to the bank, where Duff guided Seona among the wounded. Where they walked, men shed their charred skin, and new skin was revealed underneath. Those who had fallen to the dragon’s fire rose up to stand with their frozen companions. To a man, they peered around, bewildered. None seemed to see Duff and Seona, only the effects the pair had as they left healing in their wake.

  The sphere moved. It lifted them out of the gorge and set them on the bank.

  Magnus could scarcely believe what he was seeing. His army was whole again. Not a single man lay on the ground, even though the melted snow and charred ground remained as evidence of Hyrk’s deadly fire. As Magnus looked up and down the bank, he could no longer see Duff and Seona. They were gone.

  The wall of the sphere turned to mist and dispersed. At the same moment, the frozen men continued their halted motions, as if they’d never been stopped.

  Battle cries rent the air. All around them, raised swords wavered and lowered as his army realized a miracle had occurred.

  He gathered Danu close, using his body to protect her amidst all the blades. He trusted his men, but they had experienced the inexplicable. There was no telling how they might react in their shock.

  “Lower your arms!” he shouted. “Sheath your swords! The dragon is slain! But the battle is not over!” His recent vision hit him with the weight of a boulder. “The children are under attack at the fortress!”

  Murmurs replaced the battle cries. Every set of eyes turned toward the far bank.

  Verden pushed through the men. “You know about the Remnant, Sire?” His brow furrowed with confusion.

  “I do,” he said, but there was no time to explain. There was no time to celebrate his lifemate union with his beloved. Or Danu’s choice to remain by his side.

  He looked to his beloved, ready to explain he must leave her temporarily. But she spoke first. “Lead them,” she said, and she stepped out of his arms and moved next to Verden.

  Verden glared at her. Clearly, he was not happy she had come with him and his men. “I’ll take my punishment when this is over, Sire. And I’ll remain with Lady Seona while you go to the fortress.”

  He wanted to correct Verden. This precious woman was not Seona any longer. She was their goddess, come to be with them in human form. And he was not about to hold Verden accountable for her presence, when she had so clearly needed to be here. But time was of the essence. All that would have to wait.

  “Take her back to the caves,” he told Verden. He kissed Danu, then jumped onto the boulder jutting over the gorge. Pointing across it with his sword, he rallied his men. “The children are under attack from a group of two dozen Larnians!” He based his guess on what he remembered from the vision. “We far outnumber them!” he called to his men, meeting several pairs of eyes. “We will capture and contain them. They shall not be harmed unless they put up a fight.” He knew precious little about this Remnant and planned to make every attempt to broker peace between them. Running in with swords flying would not help them toward that end. “Absolutely no Larnian is to be killed. This is the word of your king.” He looked over his army, pleased to see his men nod their understanding.

  Riggs shouldered through the men and held out a sword, hilt first. It was his sword, the one he had dropped when he’d leapt onto the dragon.

  “My thanks, friend,” he said, taking it. Beyond Riggs, he spotted Verden’s back as he shepherded Danu to safety. Content she would be out of harm’s way, he pointed his sword across the gorge and hollered, “To the fortress!”

  * * * *

  The heavy-timber doors were already open, Magnus saw, as he broke through the trees and into the shadow of the fortress. The wind had picked up, and rain would soon fall from the swollen clouds overhead. On the wind, voices carried from within the two-story structure. He had expected screams.

  Curious, he slowed and motioned his men to quiet their steps as they approached.

  “Stand down, Braeden,” someone said. He recognized the voice as belonging to the red-haired woman.

  The command was answered with a growl. A wolf’s growl.

 
Fear for the children made a band around his chest. His hunting wolves were tame, but even they were not trusted to be near the children. Wolves were dangerous. Bloodthirsty. Wolves had no conscience.

  He stepped quickly but quietly to the open door and peered within. His men hung back and to the sides so as not to be seen.

  The woman, red-haired as in his vision, aimed a crossbow at a group of a dozen children huddled near the fireplace along the right wall. Between her deadly arrow and the future of wolfkind, stood a lanky, reddish-brown wolf. It bared its teeth at the woman, seemingly protecting the children.

  At the far end of the hall, the scene repeated itself. A second group of children, perhaps fifteen of them, hugged each other on a raised platform. A similar number of cloaked figures with monstrous faces had the children cornered, but a single white wolf snarled and snapped at any of the figures who dared make a move toward the children.

  Between the two groups of children, Magnus estimated they were nearly all accounted for, but that was little comfort considering the danger they faced. If not for those two wolves, they would likely be much worse off than they appeared.

  He motioned two of his commanders forward and used gestures to indicate they should watch and listen as the woman addressed the wolf.

  “They’ll grow up to be enemies,” she said, chin lifted. “They’re outsiders.”

  The wolf growled and widened its stance, making it clear he was not deterred by her words—and why would he be? He was a wild animal. But then again, Magnus had never heard of wild wolves protecting wolfkind. The raised hairs on the back of his neck told him there was more going on here than met the eye.

  The woman huffed. “Be reasonable, Braeden. They’re only going to die anyway. They’ll grow old and perish like the rest of them. If we kill them now, we’ll be able to come out that much sooner. Don’t you see? This is a wonderful opportunity for us. We can leave the caves earlier than anticipated.”

  Magnus had heard enough. “Halt!” he called into the great hall. “Drop your arms! You are surrounded by a thousand Maranners.” He stepped through the doors, and motioned his men to spread out within the hall. They poured inside like swarming ants and disarmed the cloaked figures. “The wolves are not to be harmed!” he said for the benefit of those who hadn’t witnessed the way they protected the children.

  The woman wheeled on him, crossbow raised, but he struck it to the ground with his sword. “None of that, now,” he chided, and he kicked the weapon toward one of his soldiers. The man picked it up and disarmed it, tossing the arrow to the flagstones.

  The woman shook her hand as if wounded. He did not mind causing a woman pain if she was about to murder children.

  One of his commanders and Riggs captured her, each pinning an arm behind her back.

  Chin jutting defiantly, she met his glare. The woman seemed to have no fear.

  He studied her while his men brought order to the hall. She was tall and lean. Her eyes were a pale blue that unsettled him for their resemblance to the icy gaze of King Bantus. Bantus was the only Larnian king he’d known personally, but rumor had it that many royals had demonstrated this trait. Her hair was thick and bright, youthful. Her skin was ivory. Her features were strong yet feminine. If she hadn’t been practically snarling at him, he might have found her beautiful.

  Where have you been hiding? He wondered. Are there more like you?

  But he kept the questions to himself for the moment. There was much to see to before he could safely interview her, including checking on the children and ensuring the wolves did not harm anyone.

  “Sire.” A commander came forward. “All the children are accounted for except one. No one knows where Alexander is. I’ve sent a party to search the fortress.”

  “Sire! Over here!” another man shouted. The call came from the platform. “It’s Ruben! He’s hit!”

  Alexander would have to wait.

  Magnus ran to the platform, a rough dais that looked to have been hastily built from mismatched bits of wood. Jumping up, he met the eyes of the white wolf—a shewolf, judging by her size—who was pacing and huffing with agitation. She too had the silvery eyes of Larnian royalty.

  Five of his men, two of whom he recognized as handlers of his personal hunting wolves, had her surrounded. Handler Kell had squatted onto his haunches and murmured soothing words to the shewolf. The other wolf was surrounded as well, but he sat patiently with his tongue lolling out of his toothy mouth.

  Beyond the ring of men around the white wolf, Magnus found a group of wide-eyed children. He had much to tell them, but Ruben needed help first.

  Magnus spotted the man who had called for him, a medic by training, and a fine soldier by the name of Derrik. He knelt by the side of a prone form with dark hair. Ruben. The warriors standing over the boy parted to let him through.

  “By Danu,” he hissed. A compact arrow, like the one that had been disarmed from the woman’s crossbow, stuck up from Ruben’s throat. A thin trickle of blood leaked from the hole. Ruben blinked, and Magnus’s chest relaxed a fraction to know the boy was still alive.

  He looked to Kell. “What do you need?”

  Kell licked dry lips and said, “If I pull it, he will bleed out. See this?” He indicated a bluish section of swollen skin beneath the wound. “Blood is collecting here. It means the artery’s been hit.” He swallowed and stood to face Magnus. “I’m sorry, Sire. I cannot help him. And I’m afraid he doesn’t have much time.”

  Everything else in the hall became irrelevant. Only Ruben mattered. This precious child, this nineteen-year-old young man who still had six years left before entering training, had done nothing more than run away with his peers in hopes of carving out a more secure future for himself, and this had been his reward. No. This could not be happening. It could not.

  “Do something,” he urged Kell, but the medic only shook his head sadly.

  In days past, he would have knelt right there and prayed. But he was uncertain to whom he should pray. Danu was not on her throne. Duff and Seona were. Would they hear him if he prayed?

  “Let me through,” he heard someone say. In his state of denial over Ruben’s state, it took him a moment to recognize the voice. Danu!

  He turned to find her rushing onto the platform with Verden and some of his men at her side.

  “She would not take no for an answer,” Verden said. “She’s our—” He looked equal parts annoyed and admiring— “Queen,” he finished. “I could not bring myself to lay hands on her and stop her.” A blush colored the skin above his beard, and Magnus understood how the commander had reached the conclusion: Danu carried the lifemate scent.

  Danu gave him no time to scold her for putting herself in harm’s way. She rushed to Ruben’s side. For one heart-breaking moment, her face twisted with grief, but the expression cleared. She turned her face up to the ceiling and shouted, “Duff! We need you!”

  In the next heartbeat, brilliant light filled the hall, and two figures appeared on the platform. The white wolf whimpered. Everyone in the hall seemed to gasp at once. Warm wind swirled around him, lifting the hair off his shoulders, twisting Danu’s long hair into graceful walnut-colored ropes that licked at her face.

  Ruben’s hair stirred, black tufts sweeping at his brow. Before Magnus’s eyes, the purple skin of the boy’s throat turned to its natural color. The arrow inched out as the hole filled in. When the arrow clattered to the wood, Danu used her hand to wipe the blood away. Aside from the grisly red smear, Ruben looked unblemished. It was as if the wound had never been.

  “It’s a miracle,” someone said.

  “Ruben?” Danu said. “Ruben, can you hear me?”

  Kell helped the boy sit.

  Ruben sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. With shaking hands, he felt his neck and throat. “I was—I was—”

  “Shhh,” Danu soothed. “You’re all right, now.”

  He stared at her, blinking, mouth opening and closing, as if he couldn’t quite make sense of thi
ngs yet.

  Kell patted his back. “You’ve been healed, son,” he said. “The arrow’s gone.”

  Another warrior picked it up and inspected it. “It’s the same as the ones in the woman’s quiver,” he told Magnus.

  He nodded at the warrior, then squatted to look into Ruben’s pale face. “All right, Ruben?” He looked back and forth between the boy’s eyes, pleased to see understanding start to dawn. Ruben grew even paler as he spotted the two glowing figures.

  “Meet your new goddess,” Danu said to the bewildered boy. “Seona, Ruler of Wolfkind. And her mate, Duff, Lord of Light.”

  Duff and Seona stepped to the front of the platform. Their glory flooded the hall as if they were twin suns. Magnus could not look directly at them. He had to slit his eyes to tolerate the brilliance. From beneath his lower lids, he watched every Maranner in the hall kneel, even the children. Magnus knelt too, and bowed his head to their new gods.

  Pride filled his heart to witness his people’s worship. Wonder coursed through him at the miracle unfolding around them. Not only had Duff and Seona healed Ruben, but they were revealing themselves to wolfkind. This moment would be recorded in the Archives—Magnus would pen the words himself—and readers would cherish it for all time.

  Wolfkind history was being made while he watched, humbled, awed.

  “A Fae could get used to this,” Duff said, and his voice sounded like wind gusts whipping through the trees, both terrifying and beautiful. “What do you say, love? Shall we stick around and sort this all out or leave it to Magnus?”

  “I thought we were to honeymoon on the shores of Faerie,” Seona said.

  “I did make a promise, didn’t I?” Duff said. “All right. We’ll go. I suspect Magnus has this in hand. But first,” he stretched his hand out to Danu, who still knelt by Ruben.

  She took it and rose to standing. She, too, could not look directly at them. Head bowed to protect her eyes, she said, “My thanks, Duff.”

  “I’ll always be here for you,” he said. “And your people.”