by Donna Hatch
“I’m rather tired, and I’m getting cold and hungry,” Jeniah said. “Couldn’t we stop now?”
The captain wearily eyed the darkening sky. It was still early, but he nodded. Whether he agreed out of courtesy for her comfort, or because he was grateful for an excuse to stop, she could not discern. Regardless, the Sauraii guided Braygo up to the side of a knoll. Two large, leaning boulders underneath a towering evergreen tree created a sheltered area. Captain Darkwood reined, helped Jeniah down, and then swung his leg over to dismount, his lips tightening in pain.
She helped him remove Braygo’s saddlebags and tack. The captain leaned over to rest his hands on his knees, bracing himself. The color drained from his face and he swayed.
Jeniah grabbed his arm and tugged on him. “You need to rest.”
He stubbornly resisted. “Not yet.”
“Rest.” She pulled hard on his hand. “I insist.”
His knees gave way and he slumped to the ground. Jeniah draped a blanket around his shoulders. He lay back and fell asleep almost instantly.
While he slept, Jeniah finished setting up camp. Realizing their shelter would not protect them from wyrwolves, she took the captain’s sword and kept it close. As complete darkness blanketed the sky, she heard the rusting of leaves and a twig snap.
Jeniah froze, her heart giving a lurch. Her breath came in small clouds. The steps neared. She listened, all senses straining. They did not sound like the footsteps of the silent, deadly predators she had feared. The light touch on her mind quieted her fears. A shrub parted and there stood her chayim, Maaragan.
“Good evening, my friend,” she murmured in relief, holding a hand out to the beast.
Maaragan’s breath warmed Jeniah’s neck as the chayim nuzzled her. Jeniah plunged her hands into the golden fur, feeling a deep sense of well-being at the animal’s presence. The chayim approached the captain’s sleeping form and touched him with her nose, then sat over him as if she stood watch.
“Thank you, my friend,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here. I will rest well now that I know you are still watching over us.”
The beast made no comment, only turned her maned head and let out a gust of breath.
Braygo appeared, sniffed in the direction of the chayim, and then disappeared again to forage.
The captain shivered. Chills. That could not be good. She lifted the blanket and pulled back the torn edges of his shirt to survey his wounds. His shoulder looked better, but his whole side was badly bruised and swollen. Scarlet mottled his skin. The seedpods had fallen off, their tiny jaws leaving ragged marks on his skin. Yesterday, when Jeniah had cleaned the large wound on his side, it had appeared to be healing well. Today, it oozed foullooking liquids.
What if she had done this to him? With a weight pressing on her chest, she cleaned the cut until it bled clean. The captain moaned even in sleep. If only she had training in medicine! As she touched his face and smoothed back his hair, a profound sense of helplessness swallowed her.
“Please get better,” she whispered.
She felt a presence behind her and turned to find Maaragan leaning down toward the captain. Her chayim sniffed the sleeping form briefly and then licked the wound. The captain cried out but Maaragan continued to lick the wound. Torn between wanting to stop Maaragan from hurting him and trusting her chayim’s instincts, Jeniah sat still and watched. The great beast stopped, nosed the Sauraii, and breathed into his face. The tension drained out of his body.
Jeniah’s heart dropped. Had he died?
With a cry of alarm, she touched him. His breathing was deep and even and his fever had broken. Relieved, she let out a shaking breath and covered him with the blanket. It appeared that chayims did indeed have healing powers as the legends had suggested.
Jeniah looked back at the form silhouetted against the night sky. The golden beast dipped her head down and looked her in the eye.
“Thank you my friend. I owe you my life,” Jeniah said quietly.
A low purr came in reply before Maaragan turned to continue her vigilant watch.
Jeniah lay down beside the captain, who slept without delirium. With the shadowy outline of her chayim nearby, Jeniah drowsed.
The howling of wyrwolves woke her. She shot up, heart racing. Maaragan uttered a low growl in warning and padded out into the darkness. There were no further sounds from the predators. Beside Jeniah, the captain still slept. Shivering in the sharp cold, she curled up against his back, careful not to touch his wounded side, and let the heat from his body warm her.
The sky was gray when Jeniah awoke. The captain lay curled up against her, his lashes close to his cheek, one arm wrapped around her waist, his lean, hard body pressed against her. He was a large and powerful man; she was small and helpless in comparison. She shifted and his arm tightened, pinning her.
A dark fear grew inside her. She stiffened as panic seized her with sudden intensity. With a gasp, she struggled against his unyielding, muscular arm holding her so tight.
“Let go,” she cried out in desperation.
The captain awoke with a start, immediately releasing her. She bolted up, gripped by an unexplained terror.
Fully alert, he drew his weapons. He paused, listening. Then he eyed her in puzzlement. “Did you hear something?”
A shudder ripped through her body.
“What is it?”
She flinched and backed away.
He blinked. “Princess?”
“I . . . ” She could not speak steadily. She drew another breath and tried again. “I thought you were trying to . . . use me.”
He opened and closed his mouth. “Use you? You mean force myself upon you?”
She cringed.
He stared at her with undisguised hurt. “Haven’t I earned your trust?”
Shame drove away her unreasonable panic. “Of course you have. I . . .” She glanced toward the blankets that had served as their bed and swallowed hard.
“Princess, if I were a monster who would force himself upon a lady, don’t you think I would have done that before now?”
“You couldn’t. You were hurt.”
“I’ve been strong enough for that for days,” he countered, his voice tinged in anger. “I thought you knew me.”
“I do. But I . . .” She swallowed, unable to articulate her fears.
She remembered too vividly the soldier in the castle—the weight of his body, his hands on her, tearing her gown. She had been trapped, helpless, and for a few terrifying moments, she thought she would suffer the most frightening and personal violence.
Beyond hurt, he looked stricken. “Princess Jeniah.” His voice caressed her name, drawing her gaze. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
She hugged herself. “I don’t fear you, Captain, but . . . when you . . .” she looked back at the rumpled blankets.
He paled. “Did I touch you?”
Jeniah swallowed. “Not, well, not like that, but you did . . . uh . . . have your arm around me.”
He closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I never would have consciously taken such liberties.”
She drew a shaking breath and looked at him, really looked at him. This man bore no resemblance to the Hanoran who had tried to hurt her. There was no hatred, no lust for violence. Kai Darkwood was a man of valor and honor.
He let his breath out slowly, as if struggling to find the right words. “The soldiers violated you, didn’t they?”
There was such compassion and tenderness in his eyes that her words came tripping out of their own will. “One of them started to, but he didn’t . . . finish.” She choked, remembering the sickening sounds of the poker piercing his body, the horror on his face, the blood on her hands.
“You killed him first.”
A sob broke through and the images of that night overwhelmed her. “I was so frightened. He tried to . . .” Tears streamed down her face and she sank to her knees.
The captain kneeled in front of her and waited silently while she wept. Twice, his hand reac
hed for her, but both times, he drew it back without touching her. The shadows faded and the dawn brightened before she brought her tears under control. She gave him a weak smile.
“Not much of a queen, am I?” she said ruefully, drying her tears.
His eyes were dark. “You did the right thing killing that man. You were only defending yourself. And it took great strength.” He waited until she had regained her composure. “What he tried to do to you was an act of violence. It has nothing to do with matters of love. No one should ever endure that kind of brutality.” His jaw set and hardened, the muscles in his neck visibly tightening. “While I protect you, no harm will come to you. Not from anyone. Especially not from me.”
The fervor in his declaration dispelled the last of her fears. “I know, Captain. You are an honorable man. I never really doubted you. I do trust you.”
The captain watched her for a moment as if to assure himself that she believed her own words. One corner of his mouth lifted. He arose, helped her up, and stood straight and tall, with a healthy color and without any sign of pain.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, touching his face to assure herself that his fever was truly gone.
“Thanks to you,” he murmured.
“Thanks to the chayim. She was here again last night and licked your wounds, and you immediately began to improve. They truly do have magical healing powers, it seems.”
“Then I owe her much.”
They ate and packed. In reply to her questions, the captain assured her repeatedly that he was well enough to travel.
Finally, he chuckled softly. “I’m quite well. Stop worrying. Your chayim has worked her magic.”
Jeniah conceded and stopped pestering him. As they traveled that day, a new awareness of him as a man grew, and she acutely felt his arms around her as they rode together on Braygo. Arms of strength, of gentleness. He had ceased to be just her protector and had become something much more.
“Captain?” the princess’s voice floated to Kai on the cold morning air.
“Yes,” he responded absently as he saddled Braygo quickly and gave the last strap a good tug. They had eaten more of his soldier’s rations of dried meat and prepared to depart. Today he would watch for game; fresh meat would be a welcome change. The hesitation from behind him stilled his hands.
“What made you come for me that night?”
Kai’s thoughts returned to the streets of Arden City, which had become a battlefield. A war of emotions left him empty inside.
He turned to the princess. “Your father asked me to protect you and get you to safety.”
“My father,” she whispered in amazement.
“He fell in battle. I got to him at the last moment, and in his dying breath, he commanded me to save you and the queen.”
“He thought of me at the moment of his death.”
Kai turned away, clenching his fists. “I came to help your people. I failed them. I failed my king and your king.” Then with renewed purpose he added, “But I will not fail you, Your Highness. I swear I will get you safely to Darbor.”
He didn’t tell her he would have come for her even if he hadn’t vowed to find and protect her. He spoke little after that, lost in his own thoughts, and the princess seemed equally preoccupied.
Snow fell again as they traveled, blanketing the world in silence. The princess rode Braygo with her head down to shield her face from the cold, but Kai peered into the silent snowfall, ever watchful for Hanorans.
The princess had surprised him on many levels. Remarkably strong and uncomplaining, she had tended him when he, for the first time since his childhood, had fallen helpless. She cared for him, unflinchingly, not because she needed him to protect her, but because she was a young woman of compassion and warmth.
He glanced down at the top of her head. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for caring for me when I was hurt. You saved my life.”
She looked back. The sweetest smile he had ever seen came over her lovely face, causing his heart to pound. “I’ve never been needed like that before.” She lowered her eyes. “You saved my life. I owed you.”
“You never need to feel indebted to me,” he replied. His arms longed to tighten around her, but he kept them still.
That night, they slept in the hollow of an enormous tree. Kai awoke twice to walk the camp in a guarding pattern but all was still. Just after dawn, he awoke with all senses screaming danger. From outside came the sound of crunching snow. A twig snapped. Braygo, who was out grazing, would never have made that much noise. Two Hanoran soldiers, looking down at Braygo’s hoof prints, came into view. In moments, they would find them.
Kai reached for his daggers, soundlessly drawing them from their sheaths. As the Hanorans followed the tracks, he waited. When they were within range, he took careful aim and let his daggers fly. Both men dropped without uttering a sound. Kai let out a breath in relief that he hadn’t been forced to fight them; he didn’t know if his newly healed side would bear up under a fight.
The princess awoke in alarm. Kai went to retrieve his daggers and cleaned them on the clothing of one of the fallen soldiers.
“We must go quickly. There will be more nearby.” He grabbed their things and stuffed them into the pack. Then he froze. Hoof beats. The jingle of tack. Mounted men approached and they were sure to find the men Kai had killed. There was not enough time to escape.
“I’ll have to fight.” He didn’t know if he could do it wounded, but he was determined to not fail her. “Stay back.”
The princess shrank against the inside wall of the hollow tree. When he looked back, all he saw was the empty middle of an old, hollow tree. Good. She had blurred.
Kai whistled for Braygo and the duocorn came bounding out of the trees to him. With a running leap, he mounted Braygo bareback.
Eight Hanorans broke through the brush. They stopped, looking first at their fallen comrades and then at Kai. He turned Braygo and charged directly at them. He took down the Hanoran archer with his dagger. Then, after drawing his sword, he struck out at the two closest soldiers, who crumpled.
Braygo continued to plow into the path of the enemy, goring the soldiers and their beasts with his horns. Enraged, the Hanorans surrounded Kai as he parried their attack and countered. Hanorans fell with every stroke. Within minutes, he was left alone with a complement of Hanoran soldiers lying lifeless in the snow. It was not until the danger had passed that he felt the dull ache from his wounds. He dismounted, retrieved his dagger, and cleaned his weapons. The princess went to him with a look of alarm.
Kai shook his head as she approached. “I’m not hurt.” He cleaned the blood from Braygo’s muzzle and horns. After tacking up the duocorn, they mounted and cantered through the forest to the highway.
“We’re almost to the border city between Lariath and Darbor.”
“Do you think they are still neutral? Or might there be repercussions?” The princess gasped as if something had occurred to her. “What if the Hanorans conquered them, too?”
“Lariath has nothing to offer a man like Rheged. Except for their one trade city, the country isn’t much more than a few scattered farms. They’re totally neutral, and much too close to Darbor.” Men such as the king of Hanore were difficult to predict, but Kai offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll get some provisions and stay in an inn tonight.”
The princess let out sigh of delight. “A real bed! It sounds too wonderful. I’m so tired of waking up with sticks in my hair and rocks in my ribs.”
Kai chuckled appreciatively. “You’ve been remarkably goodnatured about your travails.”
She dropped her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to complain.”
“You haven’t complained at all. You surprise me.”
She looked back at him with one eyebrow up. “Oh? You mean for a girl, or for royalty?”
He chose his words with care, knowing how particular women were about words and their hidden meanings. “Both. But you’ve proven me wrong.�
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She stared straight ahead. “I’ve been taught to bear up under difficulties. My mother had no tolerance for complaining. She said that we must always be calm and gracious, regardless of our circumstances.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I disappointed her often.”
Kai leaned in. “She always spoke highly of you and with great pride. She would be pleased with your conduct.”
The princess fell silent but her posture straightened. Before the shadows were long, they arrived at the outer edge of the city.
“Now would be a good time to blur,” Kai suggested.
She nodded and Kai recognized the faint, softening edges around her body.
“What are you projecting as an image?” he asked.
“A plain, unnoticeable peasant girl.”
“Perfect.”
It sounded unbelievable that someone of her beauty could appear plain. But if she could masquerade as a rock or a tree, a peasant girl should be easy.
They rode through the city gates with the rest of the peasants and merchants who passed in and out in droves. Jeniah felt the captain’s tension as he remained watchful. With the Sauraii guiding Braygo, they fell in with traffic. The city was a bustling, busy maze of narrow, winding streets where dirty piles of snow lay in corners. They followed the main thoroughfare, lost among all the activity. People hurried by on foot, astride duocorns, and inside carriages without a second glance at the forlorn pair. Shops and booths lined the street, the vendors haggling with shoppers over prices. Animals and livestock cried out and stamped, their musty smells lingering in the air. Ragged children ran among the noise and chaos, looking for excitement and perhaps an unguarded purse.
Jeniah’s eyes darted around as she rode in front of the captain, taking in all the sights of the city.
She had been to bazaars, but they did not prepare her for the marvels unfolded before her here.
The captain stopped at a shop and purchased two new cloaks of an inconspicuous dark brown cloth, like those of peasants but made of the warmest material available. Anxious to be as anonymous as possible, they both put the plain cloaks on over their clothes. At a dressmaker’s shop, they looked at fabric for a dress to replace Jeniah’s ragged gown.