Lexin's Quest (Knights of Kismera Book 2)

by Tamara H Hartl

  In the next room, a large bed stood between big windows, their shutters closed against the cold. There was a screen that hid the chamber pot on one wall and on the other side a chest for clothes and a stand for his weapons and chain mail. There was a large tub near another fireplace already filled with steaming water and a small table that held a little mirror for him to use to shave. This room was nearly as big as his whole house had been.

  There was a door next to one of the windows that led out onto a large balcony where Lexin found him later.

  Hair still damp from his bath and his cheeks freshly shaved, Riordan was leaning against the wall looking at the faint outline of the village far below the hill.

  Lexin felt the chill of the night air but Riordan stood as if he felt nothing. “How are you, cousin?” he asked.

  Riordan looked at him with a crooked smile. “Do you remember how you felt with your first woman?”

  “Of course,” Lexin answered. “Why?”

  Riordan gestured with a hand. “Well, I feel that kind of nerves. They are not bad because something very good is about to happen, but yet you are not sure exactly how you will get there.”

  Lexin laughed. “I will never forget.”

  “I feel similar to that time. I am excited to have met my father and to be here, but yet I have no idea how to proceed.”

  Riordan moved inside and stood in front of the fire in his bedroom. He turned to face Lexin who had followed him in and shut the balcony’s door. “Yeager is not what I expected,” Riordan admitted, moving to warm his backside.

  “How do you mean?” Lexin asked, sitting on a low stool by the little table.

  “I was picturing a much frailer man, not a warrior just past his prime,” Riordan said. He turned to put the fire in front of him and changed the subject. “When will you return to Oralia?”

  “I will leave as soon as I can. I still have a few things I left here that I wish to pack and take back with me. Drace has introduced me to a custom from the land of his ancestors that intrigues me. He and Ki wear matching rings that signify their union. I would like to find something that suits Cerise here as a gift.”

  Riordan smiled at that. “She will be very pleased, I think.”

  “If you have some time tomorrow perhaps I can take you into the village and have your help picking out something.” Lexin asked as he stood.

  Riordan walked with Lexin to the chamber door. “I would be honored to help you. I am to have the morning meal with my father and then I can probably excuse myself shortly after. Would that suit you?”

  Lexin agreed and then left Riordan to return to his own rooms and begin his preparations to return to Oralia.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lexin ended up spending four more days with Yeager and Riordan before he decided to make his return to Oralia.

  Both men met him at the stables as he saddled his gelding and stood assembled with the six men who would ride back with him. The rings he had made were safely tucked in a pouch under his tunic, close to his heart.

  He knelt in front of Yeager and waited for the king to speak.

  Yeager placed a hand on Lexin’s shoulder and then bade him to rise. “Lexin, I am indebted to you for the rest of my life for the gift of my son. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done.”

  “I was honored to do so, my liege,” Lexin said and took the king’s offered hand. Yeager pulled him in for an embrace.

  “Travel safely, Lexin,” he said in parting and stepped aside for Riordan to say his farewells.

  Riordan handed a folded piece of parchment to Lexin. “Please give this to Kareema for me when you return,” he asked.

  Lexin tucked the note into his saddlebag and then knelt once more, this time in front of Riordan.

  Shocked at Lexin’s show of homage, Riordan asked him to rise and then held him by the shoulders. “I will miss you my friend.”

  “And I you,” Lexin replied. “I will send word to both of you of Cerise’s delivery.”

  “Please do and give her my regards,” Riordan said and then moved back to allow Lexin to mount his horse.

  Lexin sat for a long moment looking at Riordan, feeling a sense of loss at leaving. Riordan nodded slightly and then grinned broadly.

  Lexin returned the smile and gave one last nod of respect to Yeager before he turned his horse to ride through the large gates of Bellmore, his quest finally complete.

  Rain poured off the eaves of the tower roof, causing a sheet of water to fall past the window of Cerise’s bedroom. Firelight reflected off the water, causing it to shimmer and sparkle.

  Cerise closed the shutters against the rain and cool night air and rubbed her rounding belly as she sat in a large chair by the fire.

  It had been almost seven weeks since Lexin left and she had begun to worry. It didn’t help that it had been raining almost constantly for the last week. The inner bailey was a sea of mud and tempers were beginning to be strained on those used to spending most of their time outdoors.

  While the land welcomed the spring rains, a bit of sunshine would do much to improve some people’s disposition and Cerise felt she was one of them.

  Several hours later, she woke to find she had fallen asleep in the chair and the fire was now a bed of glowing embers. She yawned and stretched then gave a muffled screech as her vision cleared to see Lexin seated across from her.

  He was stripped of his coat and chain mail but was still dressed in wet garments, his hair dripping a bit with a tender smile gracing his lips.

  He rose to come kneel at her feet and laid his head against her belly. She gathered him in close, ignoring his hair wetting her nightgown.

  Lexin rose without a word and picked her up and carried her to their bed where he stripped her and then himself.

  His lips found the tender spot just under her ear that he knew she loved, while one of his hands fit under the curve of her breast.

  “I hunger for you, ehmar,” he breathed.

  Cerise felt the pent up hunger in him when his hand trembled against her skin, and her answer was to arch into his hand tighter.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, drowning out the sounds of Cerise’s sigh as Lexin nuzzled down the column of her throat and then downward. She gasped when he took her nipple in his mouth and teased it with his tongue.

  Her hands buried into his thick, damp hair as he moved even farther down after thoroughly tasting her.

  As the storm outside intensified, another growl of thunder drowned out Cerise’s cry as Lexin brought her to her peak.

  Then Lexin moved over her and slowly entered her. He had intended to take his time and give her a woman’s pleasure over and over again, but the long nights without her and her warm willing body beneath him drove him past patience.

  He growled in pleasure and lost himself to her encouraging words. A short while later, he tucked her against him as his heart began to slow its frantic pace.

  She sighed and traced circles across his chest with an idle hand. “How long had you been sitting there before I woke up?” she asked sleepily.

  Lexin covered her hand with his, twining his fingers with hers. “Only a moment. You were so beautiful in the glow of the coals that I hated to disturb you.”

  He moved his hand from hers and placed it on the swell of her belly. He gasped as he felt a strong turning from its inhabitant. “By Arahtok’s mane,” he whispered in awe. “Is that our babe?”

  Cerise chuckled low in her throat. “Yes. Your son or daughter is saying hello to you.”

  Lexin rolled onto his side and moved his hand over her stomach. He felt an answering movement from within. “Oh my,” he breathed.

  A sudden thought had him looking at her in shock. “I, we, I mean…I did not hurt you and the babe just now, did I?”

  Cerise laughed out loud at that and propped herself up on an elbow. She touched his face with a soft caress. “No, the baby is very protected in there. There’s noth
ing to worry about.”

  “Oh good,” Lexin breathed and flopped onto his back. “I do not think I could have stopped anyway. I have missed you too much.”

  Cerise curled up once more against him. “I missed you too. Promise me it will be a long time before you go anywhere again.”

  “I will try, my love. I will try.” With his hand protective over the mound of her belly, Lexin fell asleep lulled by the movement of his child.

  A week later, the former war chief of the house of Bellmore and his beloved, the kinswoman of the Dark Lord MacKinnon, stood before a priestess of Tala who spoke the words of the bonding ceremony.

  The bride wore a flowing gown of pale green and a wreath of spring flowers adorned her loose hair. Her face glowed with her advanced pregnancy and her love for the man who stood at her side.

  The groom wore his best tunic in a forest green complementing his bride’s dress. His buff breeches were spotless and fit over his boots to brush the lawn in the small private garden at the rear of Oralia’s protective walls.

  When the priestess finished with the Werren ceremony, she stepped aside for Lord MacKinnon who was dressed in his best as well, and all in black, although his tunic was trimmed in gold thread.

  “I am not a priest or a judge, but I will say some of the words of our people,” he began and looked at the two people before him. He smiled at Cerise warmly. “Our tradition asks that you two promise to love each other in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love, honor and cherish ’til death do you part. Do you so vow?”

  He looked at each and Lexin and Cerise both said, “I do.”

  “Another of our traditions has the pair give each a ring that symbolizes their love for each other and honors their vows. Lexin?”

  Cearan stood next to Lexin and handed him the band of silver engraved with beautiful elven designs. Lexin took Cerise’s slender fingers in his hand and slipped the wide band onto the ring finger of her left hand.

  Cerise in turn was handed a matching band by Ki. Ki was radiant in a lovely gown, but it could do nothing to hide her prominent pregnancy.

  Cerise slid the band on the ring finger of Lexin’s right hand, his injury to his left hand making this a necessity.

  “Lexin Lionblade and Cerise MacKinnon Lionblade, you are now husband and wife, bond mates, in the eyes of Arahtok and almighty God, the father. I wish you both a long and happy life together,” Drace stated and concluded with one last tradition of his people. “Lexin, you may now kiss your bride.”

  Estelle, one of the small number of people who attended the ceremony, sobbed loudly as Lexin gathered Cerise close and kissed her soundly.

  For Cerise’s ears only, he then whispered, “I swear on the words of your people and mine, these vows I will keep ’til I draw my last breath and even then, your name will be the last word on my lips.”

  A month later, the guardian dragon Nimbus lifted his head from the watering hole and looked in the direction of Oralia. Rain ran over his iridescent white scales in glimmering streams. He snorted a cloud of icy vapor.

  “One who will stand beside Brann will be born soon,” he stated without looking at the blue dragon next to him.

  Azure, Nimbus’ daughter raised her head as well. “You have seen it? Whose child is it?”

  “The Lord Lexin and his mate, Cerise, the MacKinnon’s kinswoman. He will be a powerful warrior if he survives his youth.”

  “What do you mean by that, father?” she asked, puzzled by his tone. It was more amused than concerned.

  “I see one who will be quite the handful.” He gave a deep dragon’s laugh. “Oralia may never be the same.”

  “What of the other who will stand with Brann? Do you see that child?” she asked as she pushed herself airborne into the stormy sky.

  He followed her and they flew higher until they disappeared into the clouds before leveling out to fly toward their lair in the mountain Morenta.

  “No, I see only vague suggestions of the sire, and nothing of the mother. It is a curious thing that I can see so little.”

  They landed on the ledge that led into the caves that housed them and he turned to stare toward Oralia once more after shaking the wet from his scales.

  “It will not be too many of man’s years that the last is born.” With a thoughtful grunt, he shook himself once more and turned to disappear into his shelter.

  The End

  Sneak Preview from Book 3

  Chapter One

  The beam of light from a flashlight wobbled as its handler gave a sleepy yawn.

  “Oops, sorry,” a deep male voice apologized, sounding strange in the eerie silence of the tomb. The flashlight’s holder involuntarily flinched. “I still don’t see why you wanted to be down here at this hour.”

  Another flashlight bobbed in front of him as a woman searched a wall covered in ancient hieroglyphics, her light one bright spot in the inky blackness. She ignored him as she translated the symbols on the wall they had discovered earlier that day.

  She gave a small thoughtful noise as new symbols caught her eye. “Hold your light here,” she instructed in a husky feminine voice that held the potency of whiskey. She turned her own light in the direction she wanted his.

  “If I wanted anyone else to know what I was looking for, I would have gotten everybody looking this afternoon,” she clarified. “It’s down here, Mike, I can feel it.”

  “There’s nothing down here, Mags, except dirt and the hieroglyphics. This tomb was cleaned out years ago. The grave robbers took everything after we left.”

  Maggie Shaffer ran slender fingers over a symbol, barely touching the cool stone. “They missed something, Mike. It’s here, I just know it.”

  He chuckled softly at her insistent tone. “Just what do you think is here, Mags?” he asked indulgently.

  Maggie turned toward him, his dark face barely visible over the glow of his flashlight.

  “I don’t know yet, but when I find it,” she said quietly, turning back to gaze lovingly at the wall, resting her hand on it as if it would tell her its secrets. “It will be the discovery of my life.”

  Maggie stared at her notes on the screen of her laptop, her third cup of coffee in one hand, a pencil in the other. Curly hair a vibrant flame red lay over her shoulder in a thick, tight braid covering the breast pocket of her bright green t-shirt. Khaki cargo shorts graced her softly curving hips and hiking boots covered her feet, which she had tucked underneath her camp chair.

  She looked up when the flap on the large tent was pushed aside further to allow a large, attractive, black man to enter.

  Because of his size, Mike Brewer had originally been hired by Maggie as her bodyguard. Last year he had earned his Masters in Egyptian Archeology and now served as a full partner on the dig.

  Mike had the build of a pro linebacker, and most of his bulk was muscle, but Maggie knew the gentle, sweet side of him.

  Today, however, his expression was grim.

  “Long night?” he quipped sarcastically as he viewed her tired face. The folding chair groaned threateningly beneath him and he moved so that he was more perched than reclined.

  Maggie raised fine brows at his tone. “Funny,” she shot back. “Want some coffee?”

  “Naw, don’t have the stomach for it right now,” he drawled with a distinct South Carolina accent. “I’ve been on the phone with the museum curator.”

  “Hugh always twists you in a knot. What’s up?”

  “Well, you know how you told him that any finds you made, you would give his museum first pick of the artifacts?”

  “Yeah,” she answered and felt her skin prickle in forewarning. “After the local officials get done with it here, of course.”

  “Right, and you know how you also graciously agreed to donate twenty percent of any book deal?” Mike was looking even more grim as he hedged.

  “Would you just spit it out already?” Maggie grumbled, laying her pencil down next to a
note pad.

  “Apparently he doesn’t feel you’re gonna deliver since we’ve been here six months and got basically nada. So...,” A long pause and a heavy sigh followed. “He hired someone to come out to see the dig.”

  Maggie set her mug down with a thump, sloshing the contents onto papers lying on the table. “Shoot,” she muttered and moved the pages out of harm’s way, blotting with some tissues she had nearby. Bright spots of color bloomed on her fair cheeks and her moss green eyes went wide in disbelief and annoyance.

  “He can’t do that! This is a privately funded dig! Funded with my funds to be exact. Call him back and tell him to forget it.”

  “I told him that. Hugh apologized and said the museum is picking up this guy’s tab and not to worry, he wouldn’t be in the way.” Mike leaned back despite the chair’s protest.

  “Call him back,” Maggie repeated. “And tell him to forget it or the book deal’s off along with the artifacts. I’ll give them to another museum.”

  “Told him that too, cause I know you would feel that way, but he said it was too late. Mags, this guy will be here in a couple of hours.”

  Now warning bells were screaming in her head. “Who did Hugh send?” she asked in a tight voice but she already knew the answer and her face went white.

  “Ted, Maggie,” he said softly. “He hired Ted.”

  Mike moved with surprising speed as he jumped to his feet, sending the abused camp chair tumbling to the ground. He rushed around the table, jerked her chair back and ignored her muffled squawk of protest as he shoved her head between her knees.

  “Take a deep breath, hon,” he ordered as he held her head down with a big hand.

  She did as he ordered followed by several more. When she felt it was safe that she would neither faint nor throw up she brought her hands up to fumble at his wrist. “I’m okay,” she mumbled.

  He released her and she straightened, brushing loose hair from her sweaty temples.