by Inez Kelley
A stream of foreign curses scorched her ears and he thrust her away. She crouched to charge again but she had no training, no experience in battle. He leaped like a wolf, overpowering her. Thick, crushing fingers wrapped around her head and bloody spittle dotted her face. “Die, betrayer!”
Bryton rolled to his knees, coughing and gasping as his sight returned. The floor shifted left and his knees wobbled. The blister of magic and lack of oxygen had turned his bones to water but determined fury blazed in his blood. He used the labrys to push himself off the ground. Words grated against his aching throat. “Hey, asshole, you didn’t finish the job.”
Karok whirled, jerking Salome to his chest. His numbered hand clamped over her mouth. Hatred vibrated the dust air. Tiny half-moons bled droplets of blood along his neck and a crimson smear dripped along his shoulder. Desperate gulps of air heaved the painted chest he held Salome to. His lips curled into a snarl. “Once again, Mashique, we meet like this.”
Salome’s eyes were wide dark gray pools of concern, not for herself, but for him. A flood of might firmed Bryton’s muscles. Not again. Katina’s frightened gaze no longer haunted him and Salome was not without power. Both of the women he loved had freed him and now…now he would fulfill his obligation.
He hefted the labrys, swinging it into a familiar, comfortable position. “Yeah, and I’m sick of it. Salome, wind.”
A flash of quicksilver eyes and she was gone, the dust swirling from the force of her breeze. Karok gaped, his head swiveling to search for her. A sweet honey scent wrapped around Bryton and he let his lip inch higher as his hair snapped. Salome gave him strength from her simple touch. “You and me, Karok. No more women to hide behind.”
A gulp worked at the Skullman’s throat but he sneered. “You can’t kill me, Mashique.”
“Wanna bet?” Bryton swung the axe to his shoulder. Command rushed him, the cold deliberation of his office erasing all but the task before him. He narrowed the distance, every stalking step drawing him closer to the final peace for Eldwyn. Karok retreated, scrambling backward and grabbing a curved sword.
“Your duty calls, beloved. Deliver your justice. Let peace come to your homeland through you.”
Bryton snarled like a tiger, all controlled and deadly power. It didn’t matter if Karok carried a dozen blades or a hundred arrows, his judgment had come. The cries of every villager, farmer and tradesman rang through his soul, all tinged with fear, with horror, lamenting the senseless deaths. His blood pumped not for revenge but for every woman left widowed, every child left orphaned, every parent left grieving. This was who he was—Eldwyn’s final deliverance. Ritual words spilled from his lips as he drew closer to his enemy.
“The Land of Eldwyn has found you guilty in absentia of murder, treason and war crimes against her people. By order of her king, you are sentenced to death.” He wasn’t above toying with Karok, swinging the axe a few inches too short to draw blood. Karok leaped back. Bryton advanced. “I am his Might and his Law, sent to carry out your punishment. It is within my power to grant you mercy or salvation.”
The axe split the air with a screech. Karok thrust the sword up to block the blow. The thin steel was no match for Bryton’s heavier blade. The curved tip clattered to the stone, the hilt ripped from Karok’s grasp. The fearsome courage of Bryton’s gifted enchantment purred in his marrow and his warrior’s soul bellowed a deep battle cry. Controlled authority steeled his jaw.
Hatred collided with fear in Karok’s eyes. A victorious snarl warmed Bryton’s tongue beneath his ceremonial words.
“Mercy you are denied. Salvation is for the innocent.” He twirled the axe until the carving was visible to Karok. The Skullman’s gaze went to the handle and widened. “Justice is mine to deliver. Her name was Katina, you prick.”
The double-blade sang once more, the heft cutting with a deadly drone. It chomped at muscle, bone and sinew with a wet bite. Karok’s head sailed three feet from his body.
For one full second, silence echoed, the sound of peace in a land that had nearly forgotten the sweet harmony. It slipped into the stillness between his heartbeats with an awed splendor. Bryton closed his eye as the enormity filled him. How beautiful was the song of tranquility. Salome hummed a low windswept hymn.
The roar of applause reached through the rolling beat of his heart and spun Bryton around. Taric stood before dozens of soldiers, pride and gratitude etched on every face. Their weapons were sheathed and their palms met in a cadenced rhythm of honor, drums of hand on hand. One by one, they dropped to their knees and drew their swords, holding them high above their bent heads in a hero’s tribute.
Humility clogged Bryton’s raw throat and he sucked in a harsh breath. They’d all witnessed his judgment.
Bryton locked gazes with the king. A wide smile parted a now-full goatee around his mouth. He did not kneel but took a step toward Bryton. Chest heaving, Bryton let the axe fall to his side and moved a pace forward. A rough timbre Bryton had never heard cracked Taric’s voice. “You did it, Bry. It’s over. We’re finally at peace. You’re a hero.”
Bryton’s throat was salt-laced. He shook his head. “I didn’t do it to be a hero. I did it for Kat. And for Eldwyn. I just did my duty.”
Taric’s lip trembled. “Your eye?”
“Yeah, it’s going to take some getting used to, relearning some moves and compensating other ways, but it was worth it.” He allowed an haughty curl to lift his lip. “If anybody can pull off the pirate look, it’s me.”
“You arrogant bastard.” Taric snorted then closed the gap and gripped him in a fierce hold. Bryton squeezed back for one long minute, simply letting himself feel the brotherly love in the embrace. Taric’s eyes were suspiciously bright when he pulled away. He punched Bryton in the shoulder. “But you had to make me go through dark caves, didn’t you? A nice open field wouldn’t work for you?”
The tease worked, restoring Bryton’s humor and pushing the emotion under his devilry. He lightly slapped Taric on the cheek. “Shit, you look like you’ve already been in a field kissing a haystack. When are you going to shave that thing?”
Low laughter echoed in the room as men rose to their feet, looking around with stunned faces, weapons falling to their sides. Taric laughed. “Always a smart-ass.”
“I’m gifted like that. How’d you find this place?”
“A little bird paid me a visit and we found some women in a cliff cave who told us what you were doing.” Taric surveyed the demolished temple in amazement. “God, Bry, what did you do here?”
“This wasn’t me. It was Salome.”
Taric’s eyes widened. “That little thing did all this? Isn’t she a peacemaker?”
“Yep. Do yourself a favor and don’t piss her off.”
A flash of gold caught the light as Taric waved his hand, the monarch’s seal sparkling in the sun. The crew spread out, slipping into the catacombs with torches held high, searching for possible survivors. One soldier spoke softly to the huddled woman, removed his summer tunic and draped it over her shoulders before helping her walk to the entrance tunnel.
Myla appeared from the inky depths of the entryway. Her breeches, tunic and belted sword made Bryton shake his head. She might be a colossal pain in the ass but she was his queen and she had given him his new love. That made her tolerable. Her military scrutiny scoured every corner of the hall, noting bodies, weapons and debris. She joined her husband, tilting her chin to study Bryton. One dark brow arched, looking at his leather patch. “What happened?”
“Yeah.” Bryton rolled his good eye. “That tale will take some time.”
Taric scoffed. “And a pint of whiskey, no doubt.”
“Actually, I think I’ll stick to ale and wine from now on.” Bryton grinned.
Taric pulled a lock of Bryton’s hair. “What’s this? Showing your age?”
Bryton yanked the bit of hair away and stared at it. What was once a black streak in his copper had now turned to snowy white. A softness welled inside him.
Katina’s caress had changed him as surely as her love had. She’d touched him and turned his sorrow to hope, removed the tearing misery and reminded him of her love. Love never dies, it just changes form. He sighed in thanks. He could have sworn a kiss of peach brushed his cheek.
“So where is your peacemaker?” Taric asked.
Bryton’s tongue itched to claim Salome as more, as his own, but the waterfall of magic that had encased her dropped his brow. She couldn’t leave him now, not now. He lifted his chin, thought her name and her magic wrapped around him. The honey-scented breeze kissed across his face with secret licks, private touches, before her form solidified in his gaze. Tears sparkled like diamonds in her eyes. A fragile smile quivered on her mouth.
“You have found your peace and delivered the same to your people. I am honored to have been your guide, Bryton Haruk.”
She was so much more than a guide. She’d become his blood, his bones, his breath. Her hand slid easily into his and he tugged her to his side. She fit with perfect harmony, resting her cheek above his heartbeat. She wrapped human arms around his waist. Bryton’s eye closed against the familiar brush of her soft hair, her velvet skin, her silken chiton. He couldn’t lose her now that peace had been found. Not even peace was worth that agony.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
“Here I am but a spell whose usefulness has passed. I am called home.”
He tightened his jaw and shook his head. “No, I still need you. I love you.”
“Not even the heavens can hold my love for you.” Salome swallowed and her fingers tightened on his hips. Hope stretched her voice to a feather stroke on the air. “Come with me.”
“What?” Bryton gaped at her, his heart leaping at her words. “How?”
“As we flew together over the ocean, your spirit can fly with me in my realm.” Temptation tinged her words with honeysuckle nectar. The powerful sweetness surged through his blood. “We could be together for eternity.”
“No.” Myla’s voice spiked into their private haze with a steely edge. “You must remain here.”
Duty crashed on Bryton’s shoulders with the weight of a mountain. Love lured his heart in opposition to his oath. Tarsha’s question reared in his mind like a tidal wave. This was his test and it taxed more than his soul. It broke his heart. His destiny was set and did not include Salome. She could give him no child, no daughter to be the heartmate of a prince, the one day future queen of the people he’d delivered from tyranny and bloodshed.
Bitter denial washed over his tongue. To ensure the monarchy he’d pledged his life to, he had to remain and let Salome go.
Myla’s fingers arched into a claw-like spread and she hissed in fury. “You must have another child. You know this.”
Resentment and offense snapped Bryton to his full height. He was the King’s High Captain, his Might and his Law, not some lowly indentured serf who had to be reminded of his place. He knew his damned duty and didn’t need anyone, not even his rival-turned-queen, reminding him of it. Myla had her love, would grow old beside him, while Bryton simply grew old and lonely.
His vow was a freely given promise, not a task assigned like cleaning the stables or running the mill. It had cost him his left eye. That deserved the proper respect, even from the monarchy. Maybe she needed to be reminded.
Ire shimmered in Myla’s green eyes. A wild cat’s warning growl began in his gut. Protectively, he stepped in front of Salome. “I vowed to die or kill for the crown. I said nothing about knocking anyone up.”
“I’m missing something here.” Taric frowned at them both. “What’s going on? Myla, why’s it so important he have a second child?”
Myla said nothing, her gaze spitting razors at Bryton. The air between them flickered with barely concealed animosity. Myla’s snarl echoed Bryton’s in pitch and heat, and he bared his teeth. His blood surged at battle speed, thumping hard at his temple and neck. His mouth filled with embittered fervor and his knuckles grew white.
“Myla!” Taric’s shout turned her head. Her chin wobbled as she fought the truth she had denied telling him. Part of Bryton, the honor he’d held dear for all his life, prodded at him but he let her flounder. This was her choice, not his. He never vowed to protect her from her own secrets.
“Batu’s heartmate shall be Bryton’s second daughter.”
“What?” Taric gaped at her then spun to Bryton. “Bry, you have to—”
“No, I don’t have to. Not even the crown can make me fuck someone if I say no.”
Salome ducked her head, pressing her temple to Bryton’s shoulder blade. Heartmates were rare and priceless. She hadn’t known any still existed, passed down through blood that all but died out from an ancient gift turned curse. To be denied a heartmate was a living death. Taric’s son would never love, never have a child, would be alone throughout life and beyond. This was Bryton’s destiny. He must stay here, father another child, a future queen.
Dread wrapped around her, her knees locked tight so she wouldn’t fall. Dusty air pressed down, choking her. Every magic fiber twanged with tension as she struggled to stay in his world. Each minute drop of her humanity screamed in futility for not being what he needed. Deep in her hips, her useless womb cramped. Silver tears crested in her eyes and she sucked in a strengthening breath. She couldn’t stay and he couldn’t go.
His skin was warm, smooth and firm. The hard muscles of his back twitched in anger. She pressed her lips to his spine, tasting salt and the flavor of love. Her arms trembled around his waist and she tried to move them, to let go and step away, but the limbs wouldn’t listen to her brain. They listened to her heart and clung tighter.
Taric spoke slowly as if addressing a child. “Bry, if you go, then the monarchy dies with Batu. More importantly, he’ll never lo—”
“Stop telling me what I have to do! You think I don’t fucking know?” Bryton’s shout brought more dust from the walls. His agony rumbled beneath her lips, vibrating her soul. He loved her. The knowledge was powerful and horrible. It would have been better had he never loved her at all. “The monarchy isn’t going to die out. The son Myla’s carrying now could wear the crown.”
Jealousy swooped down with falcon speed, tearing into Salome’s soul. Myla had been a spell called to this realm. She’d given birth and now carried another child. Salome knew sacrifices had been made to allow that. Still, pettiness made her want to stomp her feet and rail at the sky. Who could give their life for her to have that same chance? No one but Bryton and then she wouldn’t want to live.
Her tongue fought her mouth, aching to plead with him to step away from his world and come with her. She could sway him, remind him he had given more than any soldier should ever be asked to give. He had delivered a peace over three decades in the making. He had cast off the shackles of oppression and violence, granting his homeland new life. Wasn’t that enough of a gift? Why did his destiny demand more?
But it did and it would not be set aside, not even for love.
Nothing could have made her step away from Bryton except for a child. The innocent of innocents could not suffer for her selfishness. Nature was powerful and unforgiving but it was never intentionally cruel. That thought steeled her spine and she slid from behind him.
Apparently the king had not known Myla was expecting. “What did you say?”
Bryton crossed his arms and glared. “Ask your kitty-cat. Her and her gifts are really chapping my ass right now.”
“Damn it, Myla, is this true?” Taric seethed. His finger stabbed at the air in front of her. “It is, isn’t it? You’re pregnant and didn’t tell me so I wouldn’t make your ass stay home.”
Myla ignored him and addressed Bryton. “Whether I carry again or not is unimportant. Batu will be alone if you leave.”
“Bryton.” Salome licked her lips, stepping in front of him and palming his cheek. His face was stony with rage but softened when he looked at her. Pinning a false smile on her lips, she nodded. “You must sta
y. Destiny cannot be altered without a price and this price is too costly.”
Firm hands cupped her cheeks, love flowing from his skin to hers. “I love you. You’re the reason I was given a second chance at life. If you hadn—”
“Your life is promised to the crown!” Taric roared. Paternal fear flushed his cheeks and glistened brightly in his eyes. Salome cringed at the blast of raw despair emanating around him.
Bryton shook his head, sorrow scratching his voice with misery. “My life, yes, my soul, no. I’ll die for you, Taric, have killed for you, but not even you can make me love another woman. It’s my choice whether or not I go with Salome, not yours. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? You sentence my son to an empty life and you’re sorry?” Taric’s lips went thin and his fists clenched tight. Behind him, Myla’s growl echoed low and soft, a deadly purr in a destroyed holy place. “You turn your back on a blood oath and you’re sorry? You’re not sorry, Bryton. You’re self-centered!”
Bryton’s sudden squeeze shot pain through the bones of her hand. She might have winced in agony had the ache in her heart not surpassed the clench. His upper lip curled and cold fury whistled through him. “Who nearly handed the entire fucking country to his enemy when he bonded with a magic spell? You had to get your ass skewered like a deer on a spit to change things. I can’t make Salome human. There isn’t anyone to die for her unless you’re volunteering. You got your love and a crown. I lose either way. If that’s too fucking difficult to get through your thick head, then yes, I’m sorry.”
Salome slipped her hand from Bryton’s grasp. He glared at Taric and Taric glared back, livid glowers that blinded them to her inching away. Queen Myla watched her with silent, scrutinizing eyes but made no move to interfere. She wouldn’t. Salome’s departure would reset Bryton’s destiny and spare her son a wretched, empty life. If Salome were gone, he could find another. With her tongue bitten between chattering teeth, she held her heartbroken sob in a burning chest. This she could give him. She would fade to her home realm like the dawn succumbing to daylight.