by Nicole René
“You?” Xavier gave Tyronian a bland look. “Never.”
“Ah, so she must be as lovely as the rumors portray her!”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Tristan asked Tyronian curiously, raising a brow.
“Why else wouldn’t he let me meet her? He’s afraid I’ll sweep her right off her feet with my charm and good looks!”
Tristan chuckled, shaking his head at his cousin.
“How long do you suppose you’ll be gone?” Tristan asked, getting back on topic, watching as Xavier lifted himself onto Killix’s saddle.
“It depends on how quickly I find them, and if I decide they’re a threat or not.”
“And if they are?” Tyronian frowned.
“Then this will be the last land their feet touch.”
Xavier turned his attention back to Tristan. “Remember what I said.”
At Tristan’s nod, Xavier gathered his reins tighter in his hands.
“Ride out!” Xavier called to his men loudly over his shoulder before he kicked Killix’s side and took off in a gallop, twenty men following after him on their own horses as they charged after the unknown.
It was dark. The once-roaring fires of the camp were now nothing but embers, and the men all scattered around the encampment were fast asleep.
Leawyn silently and stealthily made her way around the bodies, her booted feet making no sound as she quickly made her way to where the horses were. Spotting her mare, she quickly rushed to her.
Deydrey nickered softly when she caught sight of her, and Leawyn hastily shushed her. “Quiet now, Deydrey,” Leawyn whispered softly to her, petting her velvety soft nose. “We must be quiet.”
When Deydrey made no more sounds, Leawyn made quick work of putting on the saddle and tying necessary items to withhold her until she was farther away from her imprisonment. She was just about to grab the reins when a voice behind her caused her to freeze in her tracks.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Leawyn whirled around and faced the person who spoke, feeling her heart drop when she met the boyish, dark brown eyes which belonged to Tristan. His face was void of any emotion as he stared at her; only his eyes glittered with unspoken words.
“You were just taking a quiet walk,” Tristan said casually, taking measured steps towards her. “Because I know you weren’t trying to escape . . . were you, Leawyn?” Tristan asked her as he finally stopped in front of her, staring into her cerulean eyes seriously.
“Please,” Leawyn whispered. “I can’t go back to him.” She shook her head, her small hands clutched into fists. “Please don’t make me go back to him!” Leawyn pleaded, her eyes seeming to shine in the moonlight reflecting off her unshed tears. Tristan didn’t reply.
“I know you care; I can see it in your eyes.” Leawyn’s lip trembled as Tristan’s brows furrowed, his eyes flashing with an unknown emotion.
By his expression, she could see she was right; he did care. He knew she was far too innocent and pure to deserve the treatment his older brother gave her.
“Please, let me go . . .” Leawyn begged desperately, searching Tristan’s eyes for any indication he would let her leave. But he stood there, staring down at her much like he did at her wedding.
“Please.”
Tristan’s expression turned pained. For the second time, he drove the spear through what little hope she held.
“I can’t,” he whispered, his face scrunching up with mixed emotions.
Her heart broke as the tears slowly slid down her cheeks. She was so hurt that Tristan would betray her. But then again, why wouldn’t he obey his brother and chief over helping her?
“He’s my brother, and you are his wife,” Tristan said as he gently but firmly grabbed her arm. Leawyn didn’t fight him; she just let him take her away in defeat. When she felt she could no longer hold her own weight, Tristan swung her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way back to camp.
He placed her down on the bed, staring into her eyes as he gently took her wrists and tied them together, then secured them to the bedpost holding up the pallet. He pulled away, and Leawyn stared into his eyes. He looked sad and guilty. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, wiping a salty tear from her face with his lips.
“I’m sorry, Leawyn,” he whispered hoarsely, holding her head to his lips for a moment more before he rose to his feet and walked out, leaving her tied up to the bed like the prisoner she was.
IT HAD BEEN almost five days since Tristan caught her trying to sneak out, and Leawyn had never felt so much like a prisoner than she did now.
Every day Tristan would come in and give her water and meals. During the day, he would unbind her wrists. He knew she had no chance of escape because he always had a guard posted outside her tent.
The only time he let Leawyn outside was when she begged him to because she was going stir crazy.
But even then, Leawyn was guarded with him by her side.
When nightfall came, Tristan would again tie Leawyn to the bed to make sure she didn’t try to escape.
The only good grace was that Tristan didn’t tell anyone about her almost-escape.
Sometimes, Tristan would try to talk to Leawyn, but each time he did, she ignored him. She knew she was being a bit irrational and childish to be snubbing him like she was; it wasn’t his fault she was stuck with a man she didn’t love.
It wasn’t his fault the man was his brother and chief. Tristan would be held accountable for her actions, and the repercussions of going against the chief of the tribe were dire.
It would be like Lyrical and Chienef all over again.
It was wrong of Leawyn to ask him to betray his brother for her. But even with her rationalizing, Leawyn couldn’t bring herself to forgive him.
Eventually, Tristan stopped trying to talk to her and let her be.
Each night Tristan would guard her tent, she would cry herself to sleep. She knew he could hear her.
Leawyn looked up at the sound of someone coming towards her tent. Figuring it was Tristan coming to bring her the evening meal, she turned her attention away, content on ignoring him.
However, the unfamiliar sound of another deep voice caused her to whip her head back to look at the man in front of her in surprise.
“Who are you?” she asked, her tone a bit more rude than she intended.
She quickly cast her eyes down to her hands, worried she offended him. She didn’t know much about the Izayges men, but if they were anything like her husband, they wouldn’t appreciate her tone.
“Easy now, I only came to bring your meal.” The man held up the small bowl in his hand as proof. “No need to kill the server.” He chuckled, placing the bowl in her hands.
At Leawyn’s look of surprise, the man chuckled again, his teeth showing as he gave her an attractive smile.
“Don’t look so surprised, ‘tis not like we want to starve you.”
“I know that! It’s just—” Leawyn flushed in embarrassment. “I was afraid I offended you.”
Leawyn blinked when the man let out a booming laugh.
“I have no reason to be offended of a girl asking for a name to an unfamiliar man, now have I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with humor.
“Well, when you say it like that . . .” Leawyn mumbled. “Yet, you still fail to answer the question,” she said when she got a hold of her embarrassment.
“Ah, you’d be correct! Tyronian, at your service!” Tyronian bowed down mockingly at her in humor.
At Leawyn’s small giggle, Tyronian winked.
Leawyn took a moment to look at Tyronian. He was the only male besides her husband and Tristan she’d had a semi-conversation with.
Tyronian was tall, but not as tall as Xavier. He was built much like Xavier, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles in both his arms and legs. Leawyn was certain that behind his armor he had a very toned stomach.
He did not look at all like any of the other Izayges men
she caught a glimpse of. In fact, he looked more like her people. Blond hair that stopped just above his shoulders, and sparkling blue eyes. Tyronian was different; Leawyn could tell. He lacked the usual cold indifference most of the Izayges men had, and instead he was warm and welcoming. Already, Leawyn could tell he had a good sense of humor.
She instantly liked him.
“Leawyn,” she introduced before taking a small, hesitant sip of the soup in her bowl.
It was disgusting.
“I hope you like it. I made it myself.”
Leawyn quickly stopped herself from spitting the soup back into her bowl.
“Hmm . . .” Leawyn forced herself to swallow it. “It’s good,” she coughed out, shooting a false reassuring smile at Tyronian. “Just hot.”
Tyronian beamed at her. “That is because I put a special type of spice in it!”
“Are you Rhoxolani?” she asked as a way to cover her grimace before she took another sip of the foul soup.
“No, but you are not the first one to ask.” Tyronian chuckled, pulling up a seat in front of her. “My mother was Siraces, my father Izayges.”
“Siraces?” Leawyn inquired, puzzled. “I thought the Siraces and the Izayges didn’t get along. Since Lyrical slept with a Siraces man the night of her wedding,” she pointed out unnecessarily.
“They don’t really, but my father’s brother thought it a good idea. So he arranged for my father to marry the Siraces chief’s daughter.” He paused before he grinned impishly at Leawyn. “Y’know, for tribe unity and all.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can see the Siraces relation now,” Leawyn said dryly. “You said your ‘father’s brother.’ Was your uncle the chief before?” Leawyn asked, readying herself to take another sip of the soup.
“He was.” Tyronian nodded in agreement. “But when my father died, his son took over as chief.”
He was quiet as he watched her take another spoonful of her soup.
“Xavier is my cousin.”
This time Leawyn did spit out her soup.
Tyronian frowned when she went into a coughing fit. He thumped her on the back a couple of times—which almost knocked her off the bed.
“I’m fine!” Leawyn coughed out, waving his hand away. She took in a deep breath before she looked up at Tyronian with wide eyes.
“Xavier is your cousin?” Leawyn squeaked out in disbelief.
Tyronian frowned down at her again, his brows drawing together. “Well, yes. His father was my uncle and chief before Xavier took over. I am third in line, should anything happen to Tristan.” He spoke slowly, as though he was explaining something complicated to a child.
“I know how it works!” Leawyn snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just surprised. You look nothing like him.”
“’Tis a fact I’m very proud of!” Tyronian laughed, standing up from his chair. He bent down and placed his hand out to take the bowl back from Leawyn, which she gladly gave over to him. “I am better looking, after all.”
Leawyn watched him walk towards the flap of the tent in a daze.
“’Till next time, my Lady Chief!” Tyronian called over his shoulder. He flashed her one last mischievous grin before he ducked out of the tent.
She stared after him, waiting for him to come back and laugh at her for falling for his joke. But the longer she stared at the flap in stunned disbelief, the more she knew it wasn’t a joke. Tyronian was Tristan’s cousin, which meant he was Xavier, her husband’s, cousin. Third in line to be chief of the Izayges.
When she was fully able to process it, only two things remained on her mind.
If Tyronian was the chief, she imagined she would actually like the Izayges.
Why couldn’t she marry him?
Over the next few days, Tyronian came and brought Leawyn her meals. It was something she was genuinely happy about, for she very much enjoyed his company, and even started to consider him a friend.
Tyronian made her forget her captivity. If only for a brief moment in time.
He was always able to make her laugh, especially when he would tell her stories of his childhood. It seemed Tristan and Tyronian were quite the troublemakers in their youth.
Leawyn found herself telling Tyronian things she hadn’t told anyone else before. She told him about her village, and how she missed the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff rocks. He told her about his mother, and how she had died when he was just coming into manhood. Leawyn in turn told him how she never knew her mother, and how difficult it was for her father to be around her because of it.
It wasn’t until Leawyn broached the subject of her husband one night during her evening meal that she saw the more serious side of her friend.
Leawyn told Tyronian about her wedding night, and how she always seemed to make Xavier angry. How mad she was at her father for making her marry a man who was always so cruel and uncaring. She told him how she felt like she was nothing but a prisoner, married to a man who was a monster. Tyronian’s response surprised her.
“Do not be so quick to judge my cousin, Leawyn,” he told her seriously, calling her by her name for the first time since she met him. “There are many things you don’t know about him. He’s seen things that, if he were a lesser man, he would have gone mad over.”
Tyronian’s blue eyes met her own, staring into them deeply. His usual mischievous glint was absent.
“You’re lucky that’s all the monster he is, Leawyn.”
After saying that, Tyronian didn’t say any more, and went back to being his usual carefree, playful self.
But still, Leawyn couldn’t get that conversation out of her head.
There was something in the way he said it, and how his eyes looked when he did.
Leawyn didn’t know why, but it bothered her.
Later that night, when she finally succumbed to the heaviness of her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep, she dreamed of her husband and the horrors of war.
XAVIER AND HIS men had been riding for days, following the trail of the unknown company of men who were swiftly making their way closer and closer to Samaria.
It was increasingly grating on Xavier’s nerves that the mysterious men always seemed to be a step ahead of them. It was as if they were expecting someone to be looking for them and left different trails to throw them off.
They were playing a game Xavier did not understand, and it pissed him off.
“Xavier!”
Xavier snapped his head to the right when one of his most trusted scouts came rushing up to him. Xavier pushed himself to his feet as Crellio came to a skidding halt, bracing his hands on his knees as he panted, trying to catch his breath.
“What is it?” Xavier asked sharply, trying to hold in his growing ire as Crellio gasped for air, tilting his head to look up into his commander’s eyes from his bent position.
“We found them.”
“Where?” Xavier barked, already signaling the men around him to get ready to head out.
Crellio pushed himself up after finally getting a hold on his breathing.
“They’re over by—”
Whatever Crellio was about to say was instantly cut off as an arrow lodged its way into his back and protruded out of his chest. Crellio jerked, staring down at the arrow in shock. He slowly looked up at Xavier before he fell forward.
“Ambush!” Xavier yelled, stepping away from Crellio’s fallen form and ripping his sword out of the sheath on his back as all hell broke loose.
All around him arrows flew as men burst out of the trees, surrounding them. They shouted war cries, their swords raised in the air.
Xavier raised his sword to block the one coming down at him. He snarled as he pushed it away and spun his body around, cutting his attacker’s head clean from his shoulders.
Not pausing in his stride, Xavier ducked under another sword coming from the man beside him. He kicked him away while stabbing his own sword behind him, killing the coward who was just about to strike while his back was turned.
For every man he struck down, two more seemed to take his place. Though he and his men were strong, they were quickly losing this battle.
Xavier gave an angry shout and swung his bloody sword in a high arc, cutting off the arm of another attacker. He quickly grabbed the dagger on his hip and speared the man through the eye.
His enemy gave a pained cry and was instantlysilenced when Xavier slit his throat.
Disgusted, Xavier kicked the body away from him. “Fall back!” he shouted at the few men he had left as he fought his way towards his horse. “Fall back!”
Xavier paused to swiftly dispatch two attackers before raising his bloody fingers to his mouth and letting out a piercing whistle. He ducked under yet another sword as Killix came barreling out of the trees, kicking and bucking at anyone who got in his way. He stopped in front of Xavier, throwing his head and pawing the ground.
Xavier reached up and grabbed the saddle horn and quickly flipped himself up as Killix started running off in the direction he came.
“Fall back! Go back!” Xavier yelled as he passed his men, who were all fighting desperately to make it to their horses so they could escape.Xavier gritted his teeth as he ducked against an arrow that shot past his shoulder and landed in a tree in front of him.He reached down for his bow, quickly notching two arrows before he turned his body to release it. The arrow soared through the air and landed its mark, killing two men.He turned back around in his seat and ducked low against Killix’s neck as arrows continued to fall around him.
Killix’s hooves flew over the ground as he tried to bring his master to safety. Xavier knew Killix’s speed was no match for any horse, and in a few short moments, they outran their pursuers.
He only hoped some of his men got out.