Cianan pulled back, and it took her a minute to gather the courage to open her eyes. The love in his eyes made her blush anew. If he let her go she swore she'd melt to the floor. She didn't trust her voice to speak.
He smiled. "You are a wondrous woman, elingrena. Go to your brother."
"C-can we save him?"
His gaze warmed. "One miracle at a time, elingrena. Now go."
Maleta pulled back, amazed she stayed on her feet. "I'll see you later?"
"Absolutely."
Her face expressionless, Mother Kitta stepped up to them and handed Maleta Hedda's Sword. Over her shoulder, Tzigana gave Maleta a sympathetic nod. Maleta sheathed the sword across her back. Sunniva was gone. Tzigana and Wolf, Von Berend, poised to take her place. The beginning of hope. For her country, and for herself. She had to believe that. She took a deep steadying breath and squared her shoulders.
"I'll be with my brother should you need me."
Chapter Twenty
Cianan turned to see Mother Kitta walking away and Tzigana and Wolf awaiting him at the top of the stairs. He shook his head to clear it of the life-mate vow Maleta was not yet ready to hear. Patience was the best way to go, but the feel of Maleta in his arms electrified his entire body and reminded him of what was missing in his life. The newfound hope and trust she displayed humbled him.
"Focus," Kikeona reminded him. "We have work to do, deciphering the true beliefs of those who once worked under Sunniva. We needs ensure Tzigana's and Wolf's safety as much as possible afore they begin their reign."
"You are right. Let us go." He followed Wolf and Tzigana to the barracks, through the entire corps of the guild, and stood behind them with Kikeona as Cary and Gayle led the first of the guard out. The man was battered and bloody from the battle. Like all the prisoners he had been disarmed and stripped of his weapons. Winds, bear me the tale of his heart. Cianan felt the merest rustle of breeze as the elven air mage Anika's elemental sylphs curled around him like playful kittens.
"Name and rank, soldier?" Wolf began.
The man answered, nervous but truthful.
"Where were you stationed?"
"On the south watch tower, with Maltos and Belach."
Tzigana's mood was anything but playful. "Did you have any dealings with the Shamaru prisoners?"
He had not, and was taken aside as his compatriots Maltos and Belach were questioned next and joined him. It was the beginning of a long evening. Hours of truth-seeking followed as Sunniva's ranks were divided into groups – those who had been professional soldiers or Sunniva's personal guard versus those who had dealt with the Shamaru prisoners or exploited the honest factions of Shamar. The former were rehoused in the barracks, the latter went to the dungeons they'd held their prisoners in until Wolf could calm down enough to pronounce judgment on them.
He was all for walling them up until they crumbled to dust. Cianan hoped to persuade him to a more merciful end.
Dagonet strode up to them as the last of the prisoners cleared the courtyard. "We should send out criers with th' announcement for th' general population." He turned to Wolf. "Do any of th' old council still live?"
"I believe so." Wolf turned to Sarge. "I'll start the notices. I'll need a dozen men to deliver them, and I would speak with your captain."
Sarge nodded, returning in minutes with the guild captain and his scribe. The underling began drawing up the notices to Wolf's specifications.
Cianan moved off to speak with Tzigana. "We should have the guild take up the night watch patrol duties and arrange body removal detail."
She straightened her drooping shoulders with visible effort. "I'll put Cary on patrol coordination and Sarge on body removal. Most of the Shamaru prisoners were taken to the local house of healing. I was going to check on them next."
"Might I accompany you?" Cianan asked. "I wish to see Andorjan, ensure he is all right." He stared at Tzigana. "I hated leaving him there. I shall always regret not being able to take him with me."
"We do what we can," she stated. "I regret all of them – my parents most of all."
They entered the house of healing, where a robed cleric showed them to Andorjan's bed. He was freshly bathed, his leg set, but he was unspeakably thin, his eyes hollow. It broke Cianan's heart to see the man try to sit up and smile at their approach. "I'm glad you succeeded," he greeted them.
Tears spilled down Tzigana's cheeks. "I'm sorry we took so long."
Andorjan shook his head. His gaze met Cianan's. "You kept your word," he said. "I am in your debt."
"Nay. We came as soon as we could. Not soon enough." Cianan tried to tampt down the rage at what Sunniva had almost done. The thought of children in Andorjan's condition – or worse – was almost too much to bear. "I am glad you shall be all right."
"We all will be," Andorjan stated. "Thanks to you."
The cleric returned. "He needs rest."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Tzigana promised.
Cianan followed her outside. "What will you do? After Soto is secured?"
"We have to march on Marcou and clean house," she replied. "We have to hold in the north and the south. I've already spoken with Wolf – Von Berend – about returning to his old home." Tzigana eyed Cianan hard. "We need a viable force in Kunigonde also. Maleta and Jovan. By right Jovan would rule, but that isn't possible. I intend to name Maleta fortress commander and guardian of the southern pass."
Cianan's jaw tightened. "You cannot do that to her. She cannot go back there."
"She must. We're stretched too thin. She has the family blood and the military training. The gateway must be guarded by a woman of that bloodline – that's where Sunniva went wrong. I won't make the same mistake."
Cianan saw the do-anything-to-keep-her-people-safe side he always knew Tzigana had, that core of toshi strength. "No matter the cost to her?" he demanded.
"We've all paid a high price. Wolf also goes to confront his ghosts. At least Maleta has family. Wolf's family was the one doing the butchering."
"He did not watch while they slaughtered his family afore his eyes," Cianan argued. "He was not turned over to a monster to be raped to death."
Tzigana was woman enough to flinch, queen enough to stand her ground. "I'm sorry, my mind's made up. I'm telling her in the morning." She laid a hand on his sleeve. "We're done here. You should go to Maleta. She needs you more than we do tonight. We can take care of everything here. And Cianan?"
He turned back. "Aye?"
"Thank you for today. I'm sorry for tomorrow."
Cianan swallowed a growl and inclined his head. He did not await a second invitation. He accompanied Kikeona to the palace stables, saw her settled in luxurious settings with the aid of the guild blacksmith, and charged up the stairs three at a time back to Jovan's room.
Hajnal opened the door to his knock. She had changed to a simple servant's gown. "I was going for some food." She inclined her head toward Maleta. "She hasn't left his side."
"Has there been any change?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nay. He still lies as if dead."
Lady, how am I going to do this? Cianan slipped into the room. Jovan lay in his bed. Maleta wrung out a wet cloth over a basin on the nightstand. She placed it on her brother's forehead, her hands lingering, then turned to Cianan. She had removed her weapons and armor, and washed the blood of battle from her skin. She wore the same breeches she'd worn all day, but had changed her tunic. He wondered if she had borrowed one of her brother's – it looked big enough. He took in her pale face and reddened eyes, the slump to her shoulders. His heart ached for her losses, and he held out his arms to her. "Come here."
"You must be exhausted." Her voice wobbled. "You should get out of that armor. I've got hot water for washing, and Hajnal went for food... "
Cianan stripped off his breastplate, chain mail and weapons belt, and piled them in the corner with her own. Then he strode over to her and hauled her into his arms. She dropped her head under his chin, her cheek over his
heart. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. He rubbed her back with both hands. "Ssh," he whispered into her hair. "Easy, elingrena. The worst is over. Now the healing can begin." He could have stood there all night, holding her.
The sobs subsided and she pulled back enough to look at him. Reddened eyes shimmering with tears, blotchy face – he still thought her beautiful. Her lips were inches from his, and he dipped his head for a gentle kiss, meant to comfort. She clung to him for a too-brief moment, until a knock at the door and her gurgling stomach broke them apart.
He grinned. "I hope that is Hajnal with your supper. You must be starving." He kissed her forehead and released her.
Hajnal entered with a loaded tray of bread, cheese, hard-boiled eggs and fruit. Another Shamaru girl followed with a pitcher of honey mead and cups, with a couple guild men dragging mattresses behind them. "I figured you two would be staying here, so I thought these would make you more comfortable. If you don't mind, I'd like to check on my people. I'll come back to stay with him in the morning."
Maleta nodded. "Thank you. Go rest."
They were left alone with their meal. Cianan grabbed an extra quilt off the foot of Jovan's bed, shook it out afore the fire and placed the food and drink atop it. "Where is the wash basin?" he asked her.
"Over here," Maleta replied. "The water's almost warm." She perched on the edge of the bed by Jovan, and ran a hand through her brother's hair, brushing the curls away from his forehead. She kept her gaze averted, focusing on Jovan's face as Cianan stripped off his tunic and stepped up to the bedside table.
Cianan sponged the blood and sweat off with the tepid water, amused to see but the top of her head as she blindly handed him a drying towel. Not once did she look at him. He could not bear the thought of putting that filthy tunic back on. She was going to have to deal with him shirtless. He strode over to the quilt and dropped to the floor afore the hearth. Tossing his hair back over his shoulder, out of the way, he stuck the cheese onto the toasting fork and held it out to the flames while Maleta changed the water and freshened the cloth on Jovan's forehead.
She joined Cianan on the quilt to pour them each a cup of mead. She took a big swallow and reached for a peeled egg.
He felt her gaze on him, but left her with her thoughts as he placed the softened cheese on its plate and spread some on a piece of bread. He held it out to her and she traded it for a cup of the mead. The wood popped in the hearth. Maleta jumped, spilling a bit of mead over their wrists. He smiled and took the cup from her hand. "Are you all right?"
"I'm nothing but nerves," she confessed. "I've felt like a bowstring forever, ready to snap." She tucked her knees under her chin and stared through him, into the flames.
Were she any other woman, Cianan had a solution for releasing that tension. If not for the presence of her brother, the scene could have been the perfect setting for seduction. The mere thought made him burn. He snorted to himself at the irony of being with the one woman oblivious to her surroundings. He realized the twisted compliment that she didn't view him in that way, as she still viewed sex as a threat, but it was small comfort when he wanted her so. The few chaste kisses she'd dared return made him yearn for more.
He had to think on something else. "There is hope for your brother," he told her.
"The healers have already been here, on Tzigana's order." She turned bleak eyes to his. "They said there's nothing they can do, that he's beyond all aid."
Cianan stared at Jovan's still form on the bed. Jovan breathed. His heart beat. But his mind and spirit were gone, withdrawn away from the world, hiding deep within his body. Cianan had seen such collapses afore, from overwhelming trauma and stress. "Not all." He turned to Maleta. "Eat. Drink. Get some rest. Jovan is not dead. He is not going to die. Come morning, we shall start looking for a solution. But not now, not when we are both exhausted."
She finished the food in her hand in silence. "Do you think Dara can help him?"
"I think Benilo, our Minister of Healers," Cianan mused. "He is the most powerful spirit healer we have." He felt the king's presence. "Loren?"
"Are you both all right?" Loren asked.
Cianan sent his memory of Sunniva's trial and Jovan's collapse. "I hoped Benilo might have a suggestion."
"Let me get back to you on that," Loren said. "I shall let you know what he says by morning. You both should rest."
"Cianan?" Maleta's voice masked Loren's withdrawal.
"What?"
"Where did you go?" she asked. "You seemed so far away."
"Finding the person to ask the right questions," he replied. "Loren is going to ask Benilo and get us an answer by morning."
"Dara's husband? You communicate with him?"
"Always. He worries when his people wander far afield." Cianan smiled. "Now he knows how his father felt all those years while he ran all over the land."
"And you remind him of that every day."
"Well, mayhaps every other or so," he admitted.
Her own smile wobbled a bit. "He's your best friend?"
Cianan nodded. "We grew up together. It never mattered he is a royal prince and I am a nobody. We went through warrior academy, ranger school and were chosen together. Our war mares are sisters. We are brothers by all but blood."
"You've never spoken of your real family," she said.
"I have none," he replied. "I was an only child, and my parents died when I was but a youngling. Lord Elio raised me, Loren's former weaponsmaster and now Minister of Defense."
"I'm sorry," she said. "How did they die?"
"My father Daneal was plain infantry, a regular soldier killed in battle," he replied. "My mother died in an accident a year later." To his shock, she scooted forward to wrap her arms around him. "What is this for?"
"No one should be alone in life," she declared, her voice rough with unshed tears.
"It was a long time ago, elingrena, and I have a new family. Family is not blood ties." He stared down at her. "I am not alone. Lord Elio, Loren and Dara are my family. You and Jovan are also my family. You are not alone anymore, either. We now have each other." He captured her hand to place a kiss in the palm.
She glanced up to search his eyes. Hers shimmered in the firelight. "You came here for me?"
"Aye. You know of the dreams. I was not about to let you die."
"I don't understand. You didn't know me."
"I knew your courage, your spirit." He brushed his lips against her inner wrist. Her skin was so soft. "You were meant to live free."
She gasped at the contact, but did not pull away. Her fingers curled around his other arm, slid up to his shoulder. Her touch was feather-light, hesitant, barely there – it burned to his soul. The warrior gave way to the woman within. For him. Words failed him. He released her hand, searched her eyes. Shock and confusion flared in her eyes, but no fear. Only her fear would have stopped him. He leaned forward to capture her mouth with his, in a slow, gentle kiss. He touched her with his lips alone, giving her every chance to pull back, move away. He prayed for her to stay.
Maleta stiffened for a moment. He felt her tremble with indecision. Then the hand on his shoulder slid up to cradle the back of his neck, and she relaxed into him. Her mouth opened under his, and her fingers tangled in his hair. Her kiss soaked into him like rain after a long drought, heated his blood quicker than a brushfire. Many times in the past had he unwound with a woman after a battle. Now his body burned for release. With his true life-mate's kiss, the vow screamed anew for him to start the binding ritual, not to let her get away. Hedda and Tzigana be damned.
He fought for control, not to let passion slip its tether. Her trust was too new, too fragile. Seducing a virgin was easier – she knew nothing. Maleta was much more difficult – all she knew of sex was horror and abuse. All she knew of soul-binding was Hedda's possession. But in this moment she trusted him to show her a gentler way. They kissed for long moments, until he caught the first hitch in her breath and she moved closer, both her hands anchored in h
is hair. He stroked her lower lip with his tongue. She started, whimpered into his mouth, then – miracle of miracles – she touched her own tongue to his.
It was like being struck by lightning. Cianan went rigid with the holding back. Slow, dark, sensuous, drugging kisses, over and over, again and again, that had Maleta shaking and clinging to him. He dared not touch her, dared not fall back onto the quilt afore the fire, although he could barely hold himself upright. All he wanted was to lose himself in her touch, in the taste of her, the feel of her, the scent and sound of newly awakened passion. The blood pounded in his ears and in parts of him a great deal lower. He was lost and pulled back from the precipice to prevent himself from taking that final leap. It almost killed him, but he gentled the kiss, stilled her hands, and was the first to pull back and open his eyes.
Her skin was flushed, her lips glistened. She dragged her eyelids open, and the sultry, smoky look in her eyes stole his breath. He saw the exact moment clarity returned – her cheeks flamed scarlet. He turned away to pour them each a cup of mead, to give her a moment to compose herself. She took the cup from his hand with a shy smile, and took a sip.
"Are you all right?" Cianan asked.
Maleta nodded. "I feel... almost normal, I guess. Hopeful. If I can come back, there has to be a way for Jovan to come back too. Sunniva didn't win."
"Nay, she did not." Cianan paused to take a drink – and a deep breath. "We shall meet with Tzigana and Wolf tomorrow. They shall move to solidify their hold on Soto, march to Marcou." He hesitated. "They need to send a force to the south, to secure the fortress at Kunigonde. Dara's family lives in the south, and her father wished to send an ambassador here to check out the situation because he knew of Sunniva's invasion plans. He wants to be sure Tzigana and Wolf have no similar ambitions. You and I are the logical choices to greet them. You know Kunigonde better than any, and I am a familiar face to any clansman or Arcadian sent to Shamar. Are you prepared for that?"
* * * *
Her blood turned to ice. Return to that house of horrors? How could she not relive the screams, the blood, the slaughter, the...
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