The Rose of Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Her indelicate snort offended his warrior sensibility.

  “If I give you an order, Shannari, I expect it to be followed without question. Your life may very well depend on it.”

  “My thanks, Khul, but I think I’ll protect myself. I’ve done it nearly all my life.”

  “You will— ” He hesitated when he realized his voice had lowered to a rough growl, echoing with command.

  She glared at him, stark naked, her glorious hair hanging about her shoulders like a velvet cloak. “Yes? I will what?”

  Vulkar, she moved his heart like no woman he’d ever known.

  “I will refrain from disagreeing with arrogant bastards who believe they may command me like a common slave? I will kiss you whenever you wish and spread my legs for you as often as you desire without question? Is that what you expect from me?”

  He stood with a roar. “Nay!”

  How had he gone from longing to pleasure her the many hours remaining until sunrise, to wishing to seize her and smash her unruly mouth with his own until she submitted? He never lost control of his emotions.

  “You are na’lanna, my beloved, my mate. I want to make you scream your pleasure so loudly that all Nine Camps will hear of our great love. I want to love you, and I want— ”

  Her face closed, her jaw firmed, and her scent… Vulkar help him, the stark, resigned scent of agony and betrayal nigh tore his heart from his chest.

  “You defeated my army, and I surrendered to you. You spared my soldiers, my country, my very life, and so I will go with you as you demand to your Plains. I won’t try to kill you unless you try to kill me first. We obviously are compatible bed partners and I’m not opposed to sharing such pleasures with you. But I will not love you. I don’t want your protection, your tenderness, or your promises. I certainly don’t want your love.”

  Stricken, he clenched his jaw and closed his hands into fists. He could not touch her, else risk seizing her and dragging her down to the floor for hard, bloody, rough lovemaking in an attempt to defeat her all over again. He took a deep breath, struggling to calm his pounding heart. Every muscle braced for battle, screaming to fight, to claim what was his.

  Her scent was a torment. Lush, hot, smoking even as she glared at him with those flashing eyes of fury.

  He didn’t want her lust. Vulkar help him, all he wanted was her heart.

  The one thing she refused to give.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Without a word, the barbarian picked up his scrap of clothing, wrapped it around his hips, and walked stiffly from the room. To his credit, he didn’t slam the door behind him.

  Shannari collapsed into a chair. Her heart still raced after the shock of waking. Leesha help her, sleeping with someone again was going to be pure hell. The barbarian was extremely lucky her sword had not been as close as she usually kept it, beneath her pillow. She’d learned quickly to kill before she was fully awake.

  What was she going to do? How was she going to survive the next days, weeks, months— or more— with a man who tempted her so badly?

  Groaning, she folded her arms and dropped her forehead down onto the table. The thought of those big, rough hands gliding over her skin while he kissed her slowly and thoroughly had melted every little bit of defiance she had built against him. Yet, her crude words had offended his honor. Although she regretted her success, her resolve to withstand him did nothing to deter her returning desire.

  The man was all explosive power, massive and muscled and untamed, but curiously tender at the same time. Leesha help her, she wanted him. The sex had only intensified her attraction.

  Do not be afraid to love.

  The dream…

  She’d forgotten all about it when the barbarian startled her from sleep. Dreams tormented her all the time, usually of thick suffocating shadows. In the worst, she had been locked in utter darkness in a tiny cell and she knew she was going to die. After that dream, she’d barely slept for a week.

  Her dreams had always haunted her; they felt so terribly real. This one… Part of her wanted to believe the Lady truly had visited her dreams. But if Leesha had not spoken to her at the Sentinel after a night of prayer, why would She speak in a dream that could easily be forgotten? Or discredited? In a way, this dream was worse than a nightmare. Falling in love with anyone, let alone a barbarian from the distant Plains, was surely the worst thing she could do.

  Love had nearly murdered her before. She had too much at risk now to make such a mistake based on a dream she might have made up entirely out of desperation and fear.

  Straightening, she drained the cold caffe from the cup in one long drink. Work always helped calm her when fears and doubts assailed her. Some tiny detail of obtaining a throne always existed, even in the wee hours of the morning.

  With a heavy sigh, she pushed to her feet and went in search of parchment and ink. Stephan must be dealt with, now more carefully because of her absence. She’d exposed her plans to him, played her hand, and lost the game. She couldn’t lose Allandor to him. Fenton would need to increase the troops at Fort Mintor on the Pellan border.

  Which reminded her of something else she’d promised to address. With fresh parchment filched from her travel bag, she wrote a letter to the Steward of Far Illione.

  She knew better than to ask Rhaekhar for horses like his mount. Theft of the magnificent, sacred horses had been the cause of the last war. Allandor was lucky that this time the Sha’Kae al’Dan planned to return to their Plains with so little bloodshed.

  If she couldn’t acquire warhorses to match the Sha’Kae al’Dan mounts, perhaps the Keldari would be interested in trading some of their desert mounts. Rawboned, ugly and rumored to be as savage as their dra’gwar riders, the horses survived the worst desert conditions on nothing but briny water and scraggly tumbleweed. Thank the Lady, Allandor’s coffers could spare the gold to purchase a few hundred head of such horses. Rather, she had enough gold to purchase the wagons of timber from woodcutters necessary to trade to the Keldari for the horses.

  Living in a desert where the tallest trees were mere shrubs, the Keldari could not resist the temptation of fine lumber. What they did with such lumber on the other hand was a complete and utter mystery. Supposedly, there were no cities to be found in the barren wasteland. Although no one in recent years had survived a journey into the forbidden territory to find out. Who knew what secrets lay in Keldar?

  * * * *

  A knock sounded at the door, too light and undemanding to be one of the barbarians. She glanced at the window. The rising sun surprised her. Rhaekhar hadn’t returned all night. Refusing to feel guilty despite the pang in her chest, she decided it was safe to answer the door in her robe.

  A young boy stood just outside, shifting from foot to foot.

  “Yes?”

  “Prin— Princess Shannari?”

  She smiled to gentle her usual intimidating demeanor. “Yes, I’m Shannari. Do you have a message?”

  The boy held out a parchment, his small hand trembling. “I was told to wait for your response.”

  “Thank you.” Recognizing the seal, she frowned and raised her gaze to the boy. Who was this young man to hand deliver a message from the Duke of Pella? “What’s your name?”

  The boy gulped and nearly bolted. “Brandon, ma’am. I mean, Your Highness. Pa runs the inn.”

  She nodded absently, trying to decide whether she wanted to read the message or simply burn it. “When were you given this?”

  “Just after supper, ma’am, I mean— ”

  She waved away his worry about formality and nodded, encouraging him to continue. The poor boy couldn’t be more than ten years old.

  “I was outside in the stable when a man asked me to deliver this to you, but not until this morning. He said that was very important. At dawn, I was to bring this to you as soon as you were alone.”

  “The man— was he dressed in a fancy blue coat?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He rode with the Pellans.”

  Th
e boy practically spat the last word and Shannari smiled. No worries then that this boy or his family secretly supported the Duke.

  “They were harsh with Ma because she didn’t bring their ale fast enough for supper. They”— The boy hesitated, his face twisting with rage—”One of them hit her. Pa cursed them, but there weren’t nothing he could do. Pa refused to take their gold for the rooms, even though they made a terrible mess.” Brandon dropped his gaze, abashed. “I almost threw the message away, but I thought— I thought you might need it. Or at least, you should know.”

  Shannari made a mental note to ask her father to reimburse the innkeeper. “I agree, Brandon, the Pellans are not my friends, either. That’s why I can’t decide whether I want to read this or not.”

  “Begging your pardon, Princess, but Ma says you’ll protect us from the likes of them. Is that true?”

  The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders, but she smiled gravely at the boy and nodded. “Someday I’ll be the High Queen. Then I’ll make sure people like the Duke of Pella never hurt anyone again.”

  The boy grinned. “Then I did right in bringing you the message from that Pellan rubbish.”

  She couldn’t agree more with the boy’s assessment of Stephan. She needed to know her enemies as well as her friends, and she had to keep those enemies closer. With a sigh, she broke the Duke’s seal and opened the parchment.

  Dearest Shannari,

  It was with deepest regret that I heard of your surrender to the barbarians. I understand your hesitancy to call on my country for aid after the many years of our disagreements, but I swear on all I hold dear that I stand ready to aid you in any way possible. Do not fear that Pella will invade Allandor during this time of difficulty. My troops will await your command. Please, Shannari, let me help you. Join me. Only you can cleanse this darkness from my soul.

  Yours,

  Stephan, Duke of Pella

  She felt ill just from holding the paper in her hands. The look of lust and raw hunger she’d seen in his eyes twisted her stomach into knots. Why did he disgust her so badly, when the barbarian did not?

  Rhaekhar had tasted her blood, and she’d nearly come apart in his arms right there on the battlefield. She hungered for his blood, just as Stephan eyed the stains on her hands, but somehow with Rhaekhar it was more. More than horror, more than disgust, more than darkness. Too much more, in fact, which is why she feared the barbarian as much as she did Stephan, albeit for different reasons.

  Whatever the barbarian planned for her, though, she couldn’t forget her destiny. The Rose Crown and the High Throne of Shanhasson must be hers one day. Theo must be deposed. This was her sole purpose in life. To that end, Stephan could not be dismissed, not after making such a concession to her.

  His troops awaited her command! Relief and distrust battled inside her, just as their two countries had fought for generations. If she could trust Stephan, then at least she knew Allandor would be safe until she returned. If she couldn’t trust Stephan, then nothing had really changed. She didn’t trust him now.

  If he invaded, the Guard would turn him back. They had defeated Pella several times already, and Fenton was more than capable of leading the troops. Stephan could run to Prince Theo or High King Rikard with tales of Allandor’s treachery, but again, what could Shanhasson do? Invade? Rikard wanted civil war as little as she did.

  Perhaps it would be best to cooperate somewhat with the Duke. If he spoke truthfully, he would be the key to her success without war. He might even be used to win her freedom from the barbarian.

  Ah, now that was a thought. Smiling, she sat down at the desk and quickly scribbled a reply.

  My Lord Duke:

  I appreciate your offer and will consider your words carefully. The barbarians are a formidable opponent and easily defeated the Guard. Help me, I beg you! He leaves warriors in Dalden Bay, so beware.

  Shannari dal’Dainari

  Rose of Shanhasson

  She debated that last line but added it anyway. It would pique Stephan’s interest, for no one in the Green Lands had ever referred to her by such a title, although it certainly made sense.

  Asking for assistance nearly made her throw up; begging for the Duke’s help made her want to draw steel and gut someone. If Pella and the Sha’Kae al’Dan could be baited into fighting over Dalden Bay like a pack of dogs, then a few belly-curdling lies were nothing.

  She would lie, cheat, steal, and murder if necessary. Or endure explosive, dangerously tempting lovemaking with a barbarian intent on claiming her heart and soul. What would Rhaekhar do once he finally understood she had no heart or soul to give?

  Perhaps she deserved Stephan after all.

  * * * *

  Rhaekhar shaded his eyes against the rising sun and surveyed the green fields to the east and then the river to the southwest. “I’ll leave a fist of my warriors here to maintain control. They can camp across the river closer to the desert without disturbing the outlanders.”

  Varne nodded. “As you say, Khul. Who do you leave in command?”

  “Athgart. He’s used to command and one of the best scouts. I want the blasted lands beyond the river patrolled regularly. No more outlanders will move in the desert without alerting us immediately.”

  Turning, Rhaekhar headed back toward the village. The wooden and stone buildings sat side by side along the muddy stone track. That people lived their entire lives here astonished him. What would Shannari think of the Sha’Kae al’Dan lifestyle, roaming the Sea of Grass as the herds demanded, and setting up Camp in a new place nearly each day?

  Thinking of her made him clench his jaw with frustration. Desire pulsed through him, which only angered him more. Even now, he wanted her with an intensity that shamed him.

  Walking on his left, Varne cleared his throat. “Khul, may I speak with you regarding the woman?”

  Despite his inner turmoil, Rhaekhar did not like the note in his nearest Blood’s tone. “You may speak to me of na’lanna Shannari.”

  “I know what you feel for this woman, but… The vision you spoke of from Vulkar, you had it when you were just a lad. Could you be mistaken?”

  “Nay, I recognize her scent, I know her blood. She’s mine, Varne. I know it.”

  “I don’t like her.” His nearest Blood had never been one to mince words. “I don’t like how she insults you. It will only get worse, Khul. She delights in tormenting you.”

  “She is na’lanna.”

  “So you say. But is she worth risking your position, your Camp, all Nine Camps?”

  Rhaekhar tried to casually brush aside his Blood’s words, but his stomach tightened with unease. Before the Great Wind Stallion, he had sworn to lead the Nine Camps and to protect the Plains at all cost. Surely the gift of na’lanna would not compromise his sworn duty. “Vulkar and the Dark Mare promised her to me.”

  “Then They have committed you to the Three Hells. Tehark will use her against you to improve his standing with the other Camps. None of the khuls will appreciate an outlander in their midst, let alone one you threaten to make Khul’lanna. If she loved you, it would be different, Khul, but her animosity is obvious. Even more, I See… ”

  Each Blood gained special gifts from the Great Wind Stallion when they tasted Khul’s blood sacrifice. Varne’s gift was inner sight, a sense of two paths diverging and which should be taken. “What? What have you seen?”

  “Shadows.” The formidable Blood whispered, his face pale as though he saw a great horror. “Shadows hang all about her.”

  “Like Gregar’s?”

  “Nay, not exactly. These are… darker.”

  “Aye,” Gregar answered softly from Rhaekhar’s other side. He spoke with a keen edge to his voice. As if in a dream, he unsheathed his ivory rahke and rolled it back and forth on his palm, stroking it lovingly. “Darkness is strongly attracted to her. Her blood Calls to Shadow.”

  Varne stepped forward, unsheathing his rahke. “Including you?”

  Rhaekhar sucked in h
is breath and carefully kept his place between the two of them. He didn’t care to see which Blood would be victorious if they came to blows. He needed them both too much.

  Still rolling the rahke in his hand, Gregar met Varne’s gaze briefly and then looked into Rhaekhar’s eyes. The day darkened. The rising sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and silence hung heavy in the air. “Aye.”

  Goose bumps raced down Rhaekhar’s arms and his scalp itched, hair prickling. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His chest rumbled a growl of aggression, male to male. Every muscle in his body bunched, tensing, ready to prove his dominance.

  Another warrior sniffed around his woman. A woman who openly professed she would never love, him or any other for that matter.

  Warriors killed each other for lesser offenses.

  “Khul, do you want me to challenge him?” Varne’s voice echoed with silky menace.

  Gregar smiled, his eyes swallowed by shadows.

  Gripping his rahke, fighting the urge to carve out the Blood’s heart for admitting interest in Shannari, Rhaekhar deliberately bit his tongue and the inside of his cheek. The coppery taste of blood sharpened his senses and the small pain cleared some of the red haze. “Don’t be a fool, Varne. If I want his blood, I will challenge him myself.”

  Gregar said nothing, but met his gaze unflinchingly. Shadows lengthened on the ground and the silence became oppressive.

  Ice dripped down Rhaekhar’s spine. Gregar was Death. He carried Vulkar’s gift of Shadow. If he had truly wanted Khul dead, Rhaekhar would be gasping and bleeding on the ground already. “You said earlier you would rather have the Rose. You knew of whom I spoke even then.”

  “Aye.”

  Shadows thickened in the air until Rhaekhar couldn’t breathe. Agony shredded his heart. Mine, the dream of the Rose is mine! “What vision were you given of her?”

  Gregar shook his head. “Forgive me, Khul, but I shall not say, not unless it will save her life or yours.”

  “You are Blood!” Varne retorted, his face a mask of fury. “You swore to sacrifice every single drop of your blood for Khul. If he asks, you will answer him, so I say as nearest Blood.”