“The choice is not mine.”
Wrath dropped off his horse, but too late. He watched Verity disappear over the edge. He hurried to look and was relieved it sloped more than dropped, though the slope was steep enough and would not allow Verity to remain on her feet for long. And she did not. He watched as her stumble turned into a tumble.
He growled beneath his breath and went over the edge after her. Wrath was steady and quick on his feet going down, having traversed slopes like this one before, but not quick enough to catch Verity. She was rolling down so rapidly that he feared she would hurt herself when she hit the bottom. Not to mention the numerous jabs her body had to be taking on the way down. He followed after her as fast as he possibly could, trying to reach the bottom before she did and prevent her from landing in the cold stream.
A thin stapling caught her at the waist and stopped her roll, when she was nearly to the bottom, though only for a moment. It was enough for Wrath to get around her and scoop her up before she could roll any further. He was ready to lash out at her when he saw that her eyes were closed and he felt a sticky wetness at the back of her head.
He carried her the short distance to the bottom and sat, resting her in his lap. He slipped his hand out from behind her head and saw that it was covered with blood. She felt lifeless against him and he grew angry that she had taken such a dangerous risk to get away from him.
She was a stubborn one, but so was he. He would let nothing happen to her. He had told her he would keep her safe and he would keep his word. That was his only thought, not the King and his dictate or the arrival of the Northmen. The only thing that mattered at this moment was seeing to her care. He needed to get her head wound cleaned to see the extent of her injury and provide shelter and warmth for her.
He carried her to the edge of the stream and with handfuls of water he cleansed the back of her head. He turned her in his arms so that he could see her wound. Blood had soaked her gold hair, turning it a fiery red and he feared the worst. After separating the strands of wet hair, he was finally able to see the abrasion. He was relieved to see that the cut was not as bad as he expected, though there was some swelling.
He rinsed what blood he could from her hair, squeezed the water from it and pulled up her hood to help protect the wound. He stood once more with Verity in his arms, holding her close and glanced around. Parts of the glen were heavy with snow while snow barely touched other sections. He spotted an area where rock formation created an overhang and provided a modicum of shelter. He could add to it with branches and brush to help keep out the cold.
He laid Verity on the ground and got busy, starting a fire first to get her warm. He was no soon as done, the flames burning strong, then Verity opened her eyes and winced.
“You have a good bump to your head from your foolish fall,” he scolded and realized how relieved he was that she had finally woken.
“You followed me?” She winced again when she slipped her hand in the hood of her cloak and touched the lump at the back of her head.
“You doubted I would?”
“I did not think you would be as foolish as me.”
“You make me foolish,” he argued, the thought disturbing him.
Verity tried to sit up.
Wrath crouched down beside her, his hand pressing gently yet firmly to her chest to prevent her from moving. “Stay as you are until you feel your strength return.”
She had the urge to grab his hand and keep hold of it. She was irrational to think that way, to want to latch onto him and not let go. He was the first man who had ever told her that he would keep her safe and the first man she had ever felt safe with. But he had not come after her to protect her or help her. He was here to return her to the stronghold, to do what was best for Pictland. He would hand her over to the Northmen if necessary and she had to remember that, yet her visions had never shown her that he would do such a thing, unless she had misinterpreted them.
She turned her face away from him, not knowing what to believe anymore.
It irritated Wrath that she looked away from him. “What secret was so important that you lied about everything to me?”
“I am tired,” she said.
He leaned down over her, his face close to hers. “You will tell me everything before we reach the stronghold.”
Her response came from instinct after many years of forced obedience and was meant to appease. “As you wish.”
Wrath stepped out of the shelter annoyed, feeling as though he had been going in circles since meeting her. How often had he told her he would get the truth from her and failed to do so? What made him think he could get her to tell him now?
He walked away irritated and searched for a slim branch and once he found the size he wanted, he grabbed his knife, tucked in the strap of his fur leg wrapping, and went to work on carving one end into a sharp point. When he finished, he went to the stream, ready and eager to spear some fish, hoping it would help appease his mounting anger.
The smell of fish cooking woke Verity and this time she sat up with little effort, the sleep having helped restore some of her strength. Her insides grumbled at the delicious scent.
“Hungry?” Wrath laughed, having heard her noisy insides.
She nodded and grimaced as she did, a sharp pain striking at the back of her head.
“You took quite a tumbled and where did it get you?” he asked, handing her a piece of fish.
She took it and ate instead of answering him.
Wrath ate as well and waited until they were near finished to ask some questions. “How many from your tribe were taken captive along with you and your sister? Perhaps the King can negotiate their return.”
He had caught her unaware, her eyes widening, but no answer sprang to her lips. She was thinking, but why? It was a horrible memory that one would find impossible to forget. So why was it taking her so long to answer?
“I do not know,” she finally said. “Hemera and I were taken away before I could see what happened to the others.”
“Surely, you would have sailed with them on the same vessel.” Wrath waited for her to respond and when she remained silent, he said, “You are lying to me about your capture. What else do you lie to me about?”
“Please let me go. Trust me. It will be better for everyone if you do.”
“Trust you?” He smiled, though it quickly turned to a scowl. “I did once, no more. And now you intrigue me with a pitiful threat. Why would it be better for everyone if I let you go? Trust me, I will find out and you may not like the consequences.”
No more was said and a while later when Verity stood to go see to her needs, Wrath was right by her side.
“You will not leave my side. You will stay with me, until I say otherwise,” he ordered.
“I need a moment alone.”
“Only a moment.”
He walked a short distance with her and turned his back to her, reminding her once again that he would give her little time. She hurried to pay heed to his warning and get done quickly. She barely finished when he turned around to face her. She went to the stream and rinsed her hands in the cold water, shivering as she did.
Wrath did the same and once he was done, his hand clamped down on her arm, letting her know they were done.
Verity lay unable to sleep. It was not the pain from her head wound that kept her awake, the dull ache having long dissipated. It was Wrath. She wished she could be truthful with him, wished things were different, wished she was free to... she dared not think of it. She had long ago accepted that she would never find tuahna, a word used sparingly among the Picts. It was a deep abiding caring that you felt for your mate, one that endured always, but found by few.
She had never thought it possible that she would be blessed to find it and she was foolish to even think it might be possible with a warrior like Wrath. He cared for her now out of necessity and because of his King’s dictates. She did not matter to him and he should not matter to her. Then why did it seem like he di
d?
The pain in her head had been easier to bear than the pain that struck her heart. She was foolish and she had to stop it. She would never have a man care so deeply for her, especially Wrath. She had more important things to see to.
Verity lay there waiting until she hoped Wrath was deep in sleep and would not hear her stir. She sat up slowly and as quietly as she could and looked over at him. He lay with his back to the fire, not moving.
Foolish, Verity, that is what you are, she thought. Get on with it.
Her own scolding got her moving and ever so quietly she got to her feet.
“Do not dare think it,” Wrath ordered sharply and turned, glaring up at her.
Verity did not bother to lie. She tried to be as honest as possible. “I had a dream about Hemera and I believe she is not far from here. Please, help me find her. Please.”
“Lie down!” he ordered curtly as he stood.
She did as told, but then what other choice did she have? She lay on her side, facing the fire, not looking up at Wrath.
Wrath walked around to her and dropped down beside her.
Verity jumped slightly when his arm slipped over her waist and he yanked her hard against him.
“Now you will stay put,” he said his warm breath tickling at her ear and sending a gentle shiver through her.
Feeling her slight shiver, he shared his fur-lined cloak with her, pulling her closer against him as he tucked the cloak around them. He draped one leg over her two and nestled his face near the back of her neck. A mistake since her pale, smooth skin tempted. He shut his eyes, but the image would not fade and neither would the temptation.
Verity could not deny how natural it felt to have him wrapped around her. It was as though he belonged there and always had. It was a strange and yet comforting feeling. She gave no thought to resting her hand on his arm. It seemed to belong there as well. They seemed to belong together.
She closed her eyes annoyed at her fanciful thoughts about the mighty Wrath. He may not have placed a rope around her neck, but he tethered her all the same with his strong arms, and she would be wise to remember that.
Chapter Eight
“It is not that far, Wrath, please.” Verity found herself pleading with him when they woke. “If she is nowhere to be found there, then I will return with you without protest. Please, give me this one chance to find Hemera and know she is safe.”
Wrath had given it thought when he woke before first light and found Verity snuggled tightly against him and his arms around her, keeping her close, keeping her from escaping or so he told himself. He had not wanted to admit that he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. He still did not want to admit it. And he did not want to admit that he was considering her plea.
“The King would be pleased if we returned with Hemera.”
“Your head? How does it feel?” he asked.
Verity’s hand went to her head and she winced when she touched the area. “It hurts when touched, but otherwise there is no pain.”
He considered her words, wondering how truthful she was being with him, since she was desperate to find her sister.
“It is not far,” she pleaded again,
“We would reach this place on the morrow?” Wrath asked, trying to convince himself that it was because of the King and not her heartfelt pleas that he was considering it.
“I believe so.”
He shook his head. “You believe so? You do not know?” He shook his head again while dousing the dying fire with snow.
“The dream was strong and clear and so far I have had no trouble following the path I saw.”
Verity quickly lowered her head as Wrath approached her rapidly. Her breath caught slightly when he stopped so close that their bodies almost touched.
“Look at me,” he snapped and her head shot up. “Do not lower your head when I approach you or in my presence.”
“I am accustomed to obedience.”
“Accustomed to obedience?” Wrath laughed. “If that was so, we would not be standing here now a distance from the stronghold. I do not believe you were ever as obedient as you believe. Or perhaps you are obedient when it is prudent to be so.”
“I learned what it took to survive.”
Wrath took hold of her chin. “That means you learned how to lie. What lies do you tell me, Verity?” He did not expect silence from her. If anything, he expected more lies, hoped for them, since eventually her lies would reveal the truth. He released her chin and walked away, calling out, “We go find your sister.”
Verity followed quickly behind him, keeping her silence since there was little she could say. The truth would eventually reveal itself and Wrath would not be happy with it.
~~~
“My horse waits for us at the top of this rise,” Wrath said, staring up at a climb that would not be easy. “At least the snow has stopped and the skies show no signs of more snow, for now.” He turned to Verity. “You will follow behind me, step where I step, take hold of what I take hold, and you will tell me if you grow too tired to keep climbing.”
Verity nodded and followed behind Wrath as he took the first step. It was slow going, Wrath digging in with each step to make certain she got a firm foothold. He stopped and turned several times to ask if she was tired or if her head hurt and she realized that his intentions were that she get a moment’s rest. She also realized that he would have been up this rise with little effort, if it was not for her.
They were near to the top when she felt the familiar darkness begin to close in around her. She hurried and called out, “Wrath!”
Wrath stopped and whipped around, hearing the fear in her voice. His one arm swung out and grabbed her around the waist, while his other hand snagged a thick branch to keep them from falling. He saw her soft blue eyes turn dark before they closed and she went completely limp in his arm. He did not hesitate. With one strong lift, he threw her over his shoulder and continued to climb.
Once he reached the top, he summoned his horse with whistle as he took Verity in his arms and sat on the snow-covered ground. She still had not revived and the longer she lingered in the attack, the more he worried.
He patted her cheek. “Enough now, wake up.” When he got no response he ordered firmly, “Wake up right now!” Again she did not stir. Annoyance coupled with worry had him commanding, “Come back to me right now, Verity!” She moved, slightly. Had she heard him? “Come back to me, Verity. Come back to me now!”
Relief gripped his chest when he watched her eyes flutter open for only a moment. They were still a dark blue and he was beginning to realize that her eyes deepening in color was a way of letting him know if the attack still had hold of her. Until her eyes were as they always were—soft blue—she had yet to fully recover.
Wrath heard a snort and looked up to see his horse approach and stop not far from him. He praised the animal for doing as he had taught him, to wait where he had left him unless called, and as he did, he felt strength return to Verity’s limbs.
Her eyes opened again and this time they were their usual—soft blue. He ran a gentle finger along her cheek. “You suffered an attack. Stay as you are and rest.”
Verity stared up at him. She wanted to speak, to tell him what she saw, but her voice failed her, though perhaps it was her courage. Nothing had looked familiar in her vision, not the area and not the couple she had seen dead. Was it a warning? Would they come upon this horrific scene? And what had happened to the two? It had appeared to be a vicious attack, but why were they killed? And why had she seen it?
“We will return to the stronghold,” Wrath said. Verity tried to sit up, but Wrath held her firm in his arms.
“No, please, I am fine,” she pleaded. “The walk in the cold will do me good.”
“We will ride.”
She looked around, her eyes turning wide as she saw where they were. “You kept me from falling and carried me up the rise?”
“It seems I am forever catching you.”
No one had e
ver been there to catch her. Most wanted nothing to do with her when they saw an attack hit her. Hemera had been there for her if she was present when a vision hit, but that had not been very often. To wake in Wrath’s arms and feel safe and cared for was unbelievably wonderful and she would cherish it for as long as it lasted.
“I am most grateful that you do catch me, for you are the only one whoever has,” she said softly. “I have dropped to the ground far too often and had been left there to wake alone or to find rotted food had been thrown at me.”
Anger surged in him to hear she had been treated so horribly. “Never! Never will you be treated so shamefully again. My arms will always be there to catch you and keep you safe.” He did not know why Verity tugged at his insides the way she did, and try as he might to deny it had proven futile thus far. And now knowing more of how she had suffered at the hands of the Northmen made him feel even more protective of her.
She kept her eyes on his dark ones. While others might find anger in them more often than not, she found in them a strange tender anger. It was almost as if one could not survive without the other.
“We leave now,” he said and stood with Verity in his arms.
The Northmen were a strong lot, but not one of them could compare to Wrath’s strength. He seemed to have the power of two or more men. She could feel it in the ease in which he stood with her in his arms or the deep tracks his footfalls left in the snow or how effortlessly he caught her in his arms.
He lowered her on her feet and she braced herself against him for a moment as she found steady footing. Or was it that she always wanted to be near him?
“Feeling unwell?” he asked, keeping his arm around her.
“A bit unsteady, but it will pass soon enough.”
He lifted her in his arms and sat her on the horse then mounted behind her, settling her against him. “Now you can rest while you tell me the path to take.”
They returned to where Wrath had come across her and she directed him from there. Verity’s head dropped on Wrath’s shoulder after traveling only for a short time. It took some effort to lift it, since fatigue seemed to be creeping up on her, but she did not want him to think her too weak to continue. Twice more it fell on his shoulder and twice more she lifted it.
The King's Warrior (Pict King Series Book 2) Page 7