“It was the least I could do after the trouble I’ve brought you in your life.”
Absolon pulled the woolen hat off his head and twisted it in his hands. “It’s more than most have ever done.” He leaned back into the chair, and Ragnar liked the look of him there, not easy as such, not quite comfortable, but close and in his home where he could take in this view of him and ease his heart of its worrying over whether Absolon lived.
All before he left again.
“Then you should have taken that small amount and kept it. Why come here?”
He shrugged half-heartedly. “The farm got lonely. It felt empty. All of it—my house, the store, the stables, the fields. They were as empty as I felt because you had gone.”
“It was better I did.”
“Yes, it was. Then.” Absolon cleared his throat. “But I realized that you had changed. When you brought Trogen back you did that for me alone, and I thought…I hoped…it would mean we could be different than we were. So that’s why I had to find you.”
Absolon told him of his journey, of the decimation he found at the garrison, but also what he’d found in Jönköping.
“You left your family untouched. I spoke to them because I wanted to know for sure you’d been there. They were worried about you and said that you hadn’t seemed stable, but seeing that you’d left them alive, I said they had nothing to worry about.”
That was true; he had no desire to go back there.
Absolon got off the chair and sat next to him on the bed. “I knew then, that even after I had rejected you, even after you had brought Trogen back to me, that you were different from the person you had been. You were better. You were enough and no longer striving to be someone else.”
Ragnar turned his head to look into Absolon’s imploring gaze. “And what now?”
“Now I know you are worthy of my love, and I hope I am worthy of yours. And, if you’ll have me, there is no one I would rather spend eternity with.”
Could he believe it? Could he trust it? Did he want it?
The answer to all three was a resounding yes.
He placed his hand against Absolon’s cheek, drawn to the bewitching hope of his gaze and the expectant grin on his lips, and kissed Absolon. The anticipation broke him apart and he breathed everything he ever was and could ever be into that connection. He surrendered the last piece of himself to Absolon’s love and with the ruin of his defenses bestowed upon Absolon everything he had to give. The fervor of his kisses, the blaze of his love, and the passion of his soul joined with Absolon’s to create one perfect union. They were complete and nothing in the world could tear them apart again.
Absolon shivered as he broke the kiss. Pleasure rippled through Ragnar’s body, bursting with the full realization of everything that love between them could be. He smiled up at Absolon, his lips buzzing with need.
“Is that a yes?”
He laughed. “Yes, yes, a thousand years of yes.”
Absolon grabbed him and pulled him back onto the bed. They tore their clothes from each other and filled the stone house with the sounds of their ecstasy. When they were done, and curled in each other’s arms, Ragnar felt as at peace as the winter that lay beyond their door. It was a peace not of death, but of promise for what lay ahead and what they would witness and endure together.
Forever.
Also by Daniel de Lorne
Get a FREE story & be the first to know about new releases, cover reveals, giveaways and more. Sign up at danieldelorne.com or click on the image above.
Urban Fantasy/Paranormal
Immortals of the Apocalypse Trilogy
Soul Survivor
Bonds of Blood Trilogy
Beckoning Blood
Burning Blood
Binding Blood
Romantic Suspense
Echo Springs Anthology
Embers and Echoes
Contemporary M/M Romance
One from the Heart Anthology
Set the Stage: A Rivervue Community Theatre Romance
The Love Left Behind
Christmas Short Stories
Christmas with the Lumberjack
About the Author
Daniel de Lorne writes about men, monsters and magic.
In love with writing since he wrote a story about a talking tree at age six, his first novel, the romantic horror Beckoning Blood, was published in 2014. At the heart of every book is a romance between two men, whether they’re irresistible vampires, historical hotties, or professional paramours.
In his other life, Daniel is a professional writer and researcher in Perth, Australia, with a love of history and nature. All of which makes for great story fodder.
And when he’s not working, he and his husband explore as much of this amazing world as they can, from the ruins of Welsh abbeys to trekking famous routes and swimming with whales.
If you take your LGBT romance fiction with supernatural, urban fantasy or contemporary flavoring, Daniel de Lorne delivers.
Connect with Daniel
www.danieldelorne.com
The Daughter’s Duty
by Claire Leggett
About The Daughter’s Duty
Shuree has always been the perfect daughter, obeying and supporting her father, even when she doesn’t agree with him. So when he is massacred in an ill-fated raid, she must step up to lead her people. But will others accept the peace she knows they so desperately need?
Chapter 1
Screams echoed around Shuree as she fought for her life. A thick arm swung a sword at her head and she ducked, slicing her attacker across the stomach. He bellowed and stumbled back, one hand over the bloody wound. Shuree flinched, but he’d given her no choice. His tribe had attacked hers. She checked no other raider was near as the Erseg warrior regained his balance. Shuree crouched, ready for his attack.
“Leave,” she ordered. She had no desire to kill him, only to stop the fighting, to protect her family and her people. “Take your warriors and go while you still have men alive.”
The man stared at her, clutching his stomach, trying to stop the blood flow. All around, men fought from horses and on the ground. Mothers herded their children away from the battle, heading towards the dusky sunrise while other women used bedsheets to smother the yurt fires the raiders had started.
Shuree panted, waiting for the man’s decision and scanning for the next threat to her life. She wouldn’t die today, despite her compassion. If he attacked her again, she would kill him. A couple of women screamed as they were lifted onto raiders’ horses and then someone blew a horn and sounded the retreat.
Her heart lurched and she reached for her bow and an arrow, hoping to save Yesugen and Tegusken, but her quiver was empty. She’d run out long ago. She watched helpless as they kicked and screamed and were ridden out of the camp. Her attacker stumbled back and another raider galloped up to him. The second man was in his mid-twenties and held his sabre aloft, ready, a fresh scar across his cheek. He eyed her warily, his deep brown eyes penetrating, as he hefted his tribe member onto his horse, but she made no move to attack.
How could she stop this endless cycle of violence? “This killing must end,” she called. “Surely we can come to some kind of agreement.”
His eyes widened and he gave a small nod before he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode away, joining the horde of men escaping north.
Shuree lowered her sabre and sighed. They were gone. For now. But they had crossed a line this time by kidnapping the women. Her skin prickled at the thought of what would happen to gentle Tegusken and her mother, Yesugen.
Amar ran to her side. “Why didn’t you kill him?” he demanded.
She looked at her youngest brother. “Because death isn’t the answer.” She wiped the blood off her blade and sheathed it. “What did they take?”
“I don’t know.”
Yesugen’s youngest daughter sobbed, crumpled on the ground. Shuree hurried over and pulled her into her arms. “It’s all right,�
� she soothed. “We’ll get them both back.”
“They’ll kill my mother!” she wailed.
Shuree couldn’t disagree, it was a possibility. She glanced for Amar, but he was already in deep discussion with his best friend Gan, who had drawn two lines of blood over his bald skull. He thought they showed his prowess as a warrior, but all she saw was someone who was proud to be a killer.
“Come now.” She helped the girl to her feet. “I need you to be brave and gather the rest of your siblings together. The quicker we put the camp back to rights, the faster we can go after your family.”
The girl wiped away her tears and tucked the hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ears. “You will get them back, won’t you Shuree?”
“I’ll do everything in my power,” she promised.
As the girl left, Shuree’s best friend, Badma ran up, looking as beautiful as always, her long-sleeved dress unstained by dirt or blood and her black hair shiny. “Are you all right?” She flung her arms around Shuree, with no care for how filthy she might get.
Shuree nodded, hugging her, though her arms ached from the fighting. “How are you?”
“Frightened. Did you see they took Tegusken?”
“Yes.” Their friend was such a gentle soul and she would be terrified. She exhaled. “When you’ve confirmed your family is safe, I need you to help gather the wounded and ask if the healers require assistance.” She would figure out how to get the women back.
“Of course.”
Shuree passed yurts covered in blood spatter, stopped to help children find their parents, and accompanied the injured to the healers. One woman sobbed over the dead body of her husband and Shuree’s heart broke. She knelt beside her. “I’m so sorry.”
The woman turned with a fierce expression on her face. “This has to stop. The khan needs to make this fighting stop.”
Shuree agreed, but she wasn’t sure anything she said could convince her father retaliation wasn’t the best course of action. “I will do what I can.”
The spiritual advisor, Erhi, approached with two warriors to carry the body away. Shuree left, but everywhere she went women looked at her with pleading eyes or accusation. She was the khan’s daughter, the only female warrior and the Tribal Mother. It was her duty to protect and nurture them. The responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Eventually she arrived at the tent she shared with her father and Amar. Amar jogged up behind her. Shuree pushed aside the tent flap and found her father, Temujin Khan already seated at the head of the table, a deep scowl on his face and clenching his long black plait in front of him as Jambal demanded they go now to rescue his wife and daughter. Next to the khan sat her two eldest brothers, almost identical to their father though their plaits weren’t as long, and then around the table sat Temujin’s ten advisors, all battle-hardened warriors still wearing the dirt and blood from this morning’s battle.
Her father interrupted Jambal and asked Amar, “How many injured?”
“Twenty, and ten dead,” Amar answered. Their tribe was getting smaller with each raid.
Temujin sighed. “They took much of our harvest.”
So that’s what they wanted. Shuree placed some cheese and meat on the table and ensured the men’s glasses were full before she poured herself a glass of mare’s milk and sat.
“And my wife and daughter!” Jambal shouted. “We must go now!”
“We will have to get both back,” Amar said.
“Without the harvest, we won’t survive the winter,” the khan agreed. Jambal opened his mouth and Temujin continued, “We will take the time to extinguish the fires and restock our weapons only. We can attack this afternoon.”
He couldn’t be serious. They couldn’t go on like this. “Fighting isn’t solving anything,” Shuree argued. “We need to talk to the Erseg tribe, and perhaps we can compromise, trade with them so they don’t have to raid.”
The men around the table grumbled at her. “We must not show any weakness,” one of the advisors said.
The khan nodded. “Daughter, you do not understand. There is no talking to these people.”
“Have we tried?” she asked.
“If we do not strike back, they will think us vulnerable and will take advantage,” Amar said.
“They must pay for the lives they took, little dragon,” her eldest brother, Yul added, his affectionate smile revealing the gap between his two front teeth.
He’d given her the nickname the first time she’d sparred with him. He’d said she was as beautiful as a dragon, and just as dangerous, her sword her fire. She wouldn’t let the endearment sway her. Why wouldn’t they recognise that fighting wasn’t working? “We’ve been raided by three tribes in the past four moons,” she said. “Too many people are dying. We must find a different solution.”
“Your brothers are right,” Temujin said. “Talking will only show we don’t have the men to fight and they will raid us more frequently.”
Frustration simmered in her blood. “More die each raid,” she said. “Our people are grieving. Continuing on the same path is madness.”
Her father’s expression darkened. “You have had your say, daughter. Now do your duty as Tribal Mother and visit the families of the dead.”
She’d been dismissed. “Yes, Khan.” She rose from the table and pushed aside the heavy tent flap, the soft felt not at all soothing.
Outside, she took two deep breaths to calm her anger, but the normally fresh air of the steppes was mingled with smoke and blood, souring her stomach. How could she convince her father and the elders of the Saltar tribe that change was desperately required?
“Shuree, have they made a decision?” Her grandmother, Nergui walked over to her.
“We are to raid them this afternoon.”
Nergui’s face fell. “Will there be no end to the violence?”
Shuree tucked her arm into her grandmother’s and walked her towards Erhi’s tent. “Has it always been like this?”
“Yes, but it’s getting worse. The interior of the steppes is drying out, and the tribes there are struggling to grow food. They need what we can produce here on the edges in the more fertile areas.”
“Has no one tried to trade?”
“There have been times, but then a khan gets greedy and wants more and the fighting starts again.”
“I suggested we talk to the Erseg tribe, but no one listened.”
“You are a good child.” Nergui patted her arm. “You are wise beyond your years, but your father will never listen, not when their people killed his father.”
Revenge was a vicious cycle.
They stopped by the spiritual tent. “I must visit the bereaved,” Shuree said.
Nergui hugged her. “You are doing well in your role as Tribal Mother since your mother passed.”
Her heart twinged. Gone only a year ago and still it hurt as if it was only yesterday. “Thank you.”
She went into the spiritual tent where Erhi prayed over one of the dead warriors. Shuree waited until Erhi finished and opened her eyes. The black circle tattoo under her right eye marking her as their spiritual advisor seemed more prominent today.
“Shuree, I knew you wouldn’t be long. Are you ready to visit the families?”
She nodded, though she was never ready. She would rather ride into battle than deal with the grief these families faced. It reminded her too much of her own grief when her mother had died.
“Then let us go.”
By midday Shuree’s head throbbed with the pain of unshed tears, she hurt from the despair of the families, and her muscles had stiffened from the battle. Hopelessness filled her as the warriors gathered their weapons and mounted their horses. They were going to rescue Jambal’s family and get their harvest back.
Though Shuree had been trained to fight, she only protected their home, never riding out when the men attacked. Her father called her over. “You are in charge until I return. Your duty is to ensure the camp is fortified and to pr
otect our people.”
She raised her eyebrows. How could they fortify the camp when all their warriors rode into battle? There were no fences aside from those around the sheep herds and no easy way to defend the collection of yurts. Still she replied, “Yes, Khan.” His strong arms encircled her, a protection and comfort she had always known. She inhaled deeply, his musky scent filling her nose. She didn’t want to let go.
“This is the only way to deal with them, child,” he murmured and moved over to his horse.
Yul stopped next to her after saying goodbye to his wife and children. “Don’t worry, little dragon. We’ll defeat the Erseg and then maybe they will be willing to talk.”
She bit her tongue to stop herself from begging him not to go.
The women and children waved the warriors off, almost half their whole tribe, and worry lodged deep in the pit of Shuree’s stomach. Her father and three brothers rode into battle, with no guarantee they would return. She swallowed, blinked the tears from her eyes and turned to Erhi. Her concern spiked again at the deep frown on the spiritual advisor’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Erhi hesitated. “Dzhambul does not ride with them.”
The god of war and hunting guaranteed a successful mission if he rode with them. Shuree’s skin crawled and she bit her tongue to stop herself from calling them back. “Can you see an end to this fighting?”
“I will consult the Gods.” Erhi left and Shuree returned to her now empty yurt. It was usually full of people meeting with the khan or her family coming to visit. Both her eldest brothers had their own families and yurts, but they were always around, learning how to be khan from their father. Now the lack of people felt like a bad omen.
Shuree couldn’t stay here. It was too quiet. She wanted to speak with others, discover if they too had had enough of the endless bloodshed.
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 27