“Please. Don’t do this to me.”
:I love you, Shannari, with all my heart and soul. I cannot bear to let you return to such a cage. I cannot bear to let you face the Shadow alone.:
Lifting her head, she stared into his burnished gold eyes. So much honor. So much love. She didn’t deserve it.
“Stay with me,” he whispered against her lips. “Love me.”
Staring into his eyes, breathing the very breath from his lungs, she wanted so desperately to make it so. To let the fragile emotion in her heart burst forth. Hope. Love. Trust. Ideals she’d murdered long ago in her fight for the High Throne. She didn’t even wear it yet, but the Rose Crown was so very, very heavy.
“I— ”
“Khul.” Grim as ever, Varne approached. “A messenger arrives from Dalden Bay.”
That could only mean one thing. Trouble. She saw the immediate urgency in Rhaekhar’s gaze. The determination. Plans she’d set in motion what seemed an eternity ago were now coming to fruition.
Swallowing the words threatening to shatter her resolve, she pulled away and stood, albeit stiffly, clutching her vest closed. She felt like a herd of horses had trampled her.
Rhaekhar stood just as stiffly, for he had fared no better than she in their battle. “No one will take from me what I’ve claimed for the Sha’Kae al’Dan. No one. You’re mine, Shannari dal’Dainari, Rose of Shanhasson.”
She said nothing. Couldn’t refuse him, couldn’t agree. Agony seized her lungs in bands of iron. How could she leave him? How could she live every day knowing he was alive and lost to her?
His jaw clenched. His right hand reached for the rahke that was missing on his hip. “Fight the chains of destiny, Shannari. Don’t let them put you in a cage.”
Gregar silently offered Khul’s rahke, which he had lost in their challenge. Rhaekhar sheathed it yet kept the handle gripped hard in his right hand. He made such an impressive figure standing in the hot noonday sun, surrounded in a brilliant nimbus of light, so fierce and proud and invincible.
“Fight them as you fought my love, Shannari.”
“I lost that fight.” A tear slipped down her cheek, burning like acid. Gregar offered her sword to her, his dark eyes pools of Shadow against his Khul’s light. “I’ve lost every fight with you. But this one I must win. I must return to the Green Lands and uphold my destiny.”
Rhaekhar seized her chin, his voice rumbling with violence. “You are welcome to try.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
After riding all afternoon and through the night, the warriors drew rein to survey the green field below with a new dawn breaking the horizon. A wide, fast river snaked through the barrens along the desert and dumped into the distant bay. Already attacking, the outlanders chose the desert side for battle. Rhaekhar counted at least ten fists of outlanders facing the one fist of warriors he’d left to protect his claim on the village.
Although his warriors held his own against them, Athgart had not yet defeated the challengers. A small group of outlanders were mounted on fleet ponies this time. They were no match for the na’kindren’s sheer bulk, but they darted in and out fast enough that the warriors couldn’t crush them as easily as the men on foot.
“Pella,” Shannari muttered.
Although she sat in his arms before him, she had never felt so far away as this moment. Drawing on the bond, Rhaekhar read only a hard, blank emptiness. The closer they came to her homeland, the more the emptiness spread through her heart. Now, she was numb, frozen on the inside.
Which frightened the Three Hells out of him. “This is the great enemy you spoke of?”
“One of them. Not the worst.”
So flat, her voice. His heart clenched with worry. Fury he could help her release by instigating a fight. Fear he could laugh and challenge away. Desire, well, he certainly knew how to ease her longing. But how to break this frozen emptiness spreading through her heart? “What’s wrong, Shannari?”
She stared down at the unfolding kae’don, her mouth a hard slant of resolve. “It’s over.”
Gone. In her heart, she was already lost to him. Urgency and rage pulsed through him. Tenderness on the ride to these Green Lands had failed to break through to her. Perhaps he should resort to warrior dominance and aggression. If nothing else, he would rouse her fighting instinct. Deliberately, he made his voice harsh, echoing with command. “Nothing is over, na’lanna, until I say it’s so.”
She flinched but refused to look at him. “I fear this battle may go badly for you.”
Arrogance steeled his voice. “You’ve defeated Pella numerous times. This day will be no different, for I shall surely defeat him too.”
Wordlessly, she nodded. But her heart throbbed sharply and she gave a little gasp of pain that sent his blood boiling higher. Why her heart? She would find it impossible to convince him to allow an outlander’s intentions to be made known. Impossible! “Do you have feelings for Pella?”
She laughed bitterly. “Only hatred and disgust.”
Listening to her bond, he felt a sharp pain as though a rahke plunged into her heart, twisting and grinding on bone. Furious, he gripped her chin and jerked her head around to study her face. Blank. Cold. Smooth as granite. But through the bond—
Grief. Sorrow. Regret. All emotions tumbling through her, slamming into him in fast succession.
And love. At last. But the rahke in her heart twisted deeper.
“Watch out for the pikes,” she whispered. A single tear trailed down her cheek. “If you charge him straight on, his troops will square up with pikes on the outside. They’ll butcher your horse if you’re not careful.”
“Na’lanna… ”
She smiled, but her chin quivered. “He’ll have a reserve, too. Light cavalry, the quicker to flee the battlefield if things go badly. They’re likely on the high point above the river. His soldiers always fold easily. His Captain is feared but not respected, and they’ll fear you more.”
Leaning down so close his nose touched hers, he let all the love and determination in his heart roar through the bond. “I love you.”
Her voice rasped and she shuddered against him. “Take care of yourself. While they lack courage, Pellans fight dirty. They’ve been known to poison their blades.”
“I fight for your love, Shannari. I fight for you. You will return to the Plains with me.”
She broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to his mouth. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. I’m warrior enough to find you wherever you go. I’ll drag you kicking and screaming all the way back to the Plains, where I will earn so many white kae’als you’ll nigh never walk again.”
Nothing. No spark of fury in her beautiful eyes. No tightening of her mouth with rage. Not even a hint of color on her pale cheeks. She didn’t reach for her sword or threaten him in any way.
“Try walking away from me, na’lanna.”
A sad, fragile smile softened her lips. “Good bye, Khul.”
He wanted to throw his head back and howl. If his honor didn’t depend on defending what he claimed for the Sha’Kae al’Dan, he would wrap her tight to his heart and ride for the Plains at a dead run. “I challenge you to love me, na’lanna.”
“I’ll never forget you.”
His heart thudded in his chest so loudly, so hard, he thought he would surely die. How could she refuse him now? How could she reject his love, his honor, his protection, after all the love they shared on the Plains?
“Look at me, Shannari. Where is your heart?”
Hoarsely, she whispered, “My heart is dead. It always has been. I told you, I warned you, I begged you to leave me here before it was too late for you.”
Gripping her shoulders, he shook her hard enough her teeth slammed together, trying to find a spark of her courage— her anger— that he could flame into passion.
She stared back at him with dull eyes. His proud, strong warrior woman was defeated. She stood against his warriors, fought courageously, survived D
eath Riders, battled him toe to toe. Yet she stared back at him now, broken and defeated as he’d never seen her before.
“Your warriors need you. Go, Khul.”
“I shall come for you wherever you go. Against all outlanders, against all Nine Camps, against your father, your enemies. Great Vulkar help me, against your Blessed Lady if needs be. I shall come for you against any and all who stand against me. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” she said softly. Another tear fell.
Vulkar help him, he was tempted to throw her to the ground here and now and ravage some sense into her. If needs be, he would order Gregar to assist him. Surely between the two of them they could convince her to fight this destiny suffocating her very heart.
“Let me go, Khul. Before I break you. Before you lose your honor. Before those kae’als fall from your hair. Let me go. I’m not worth fighting for.”
He drew her close for a hard, searing kiss, a domination of teeth, a promise. “Never. I’ll die for you, na’lanna.”
He let her slide to the ground, but it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life. “I’ll leave Gregar— ”
“Nay.” Gregar stared down at the kae’don, his face and voice just as flat as hers. “She’s made her choice. Let her live or die with it.”
Tightening his grip on his rahke, Rhaekhar contemplated cutting out the Blood’s heart. Fury and fear warred in him. While she stood there, shoulders slumped, head down, tears dripping onto her chest. It would kill him to leave her.
But the Blood was right.
He laughed harshly. It was better than weeping. “I want all of you, all of your heart, all day, all night, for the rest of your life. Until you want me the same way— ”
Swallowing back a curse, he touched his heel to Khan’s flank and galloped for the kae’don. But the greatest battle of all raged in his heart.
* * * *
Shannari couldn’t bear to watch him ride away. It took all her control, all her determination, to stifle the entreaties and apologies screaming in her heart. She wanted to run after him, screaming at him to come back, that she—
Swallowing painfully, she brushed away the tears. Blessed Lady above, it was so hard. So hard to hurt him, to refuse him, when she wanted what he offered so badly.
Duty weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She heard the horses coming, lighter than the mighty warhorses. She knew who approached. She didn’t look up until he spoke.
“Princess Shannari, imagine meeting you here.” Stephan laughed softly and reached down his hand to haul her up in front of him. “Would you like to be rescued?”
Reluctantly, she looked up into his face. A small, smug smile quirked his lips. Clean shaven, his hair queued at his neck, smart and dashing in a brilliant blue coat, he turned her stomach. Fighting back the sobs threatening to overwhelm her, she ignored his hand and grasped the back of his saddle, hoisting herself up behind him.
“I love your ensemble. It’ll be all the rage at Court, I’m sure.”
The thought of his pale, filthy gaze on her skin— so much skin— made her ill. She longed for a tub of steaming water, stiff bristle, and soap strong enough to burn her eyes. She doubted she’d ever feel clean again after touching him.
Refusing to remark or react in any way to indicate her discomfort, she chose inquiry. “How many troops did you bring? From what I see, you won’t hold the field for long.”
Stephan led his men away from the battlefield and Dalden Bay. She had no idea where he would take her. Shanhasson? Surely not yet. “Trust me.”
Her stomach heaved and a sound of disgust managed to escape her clenched lips.
“I have a few surprises planned for the barbarians. Did you know the libraries in Shanhasson indicate the Crown Prince Raulf was held captive by the Sha’Kae al’Dan in the last invasion? He managed to escape and return home, minus a few fingers and all his sanity, I’m afraid. In his journals, he wrote that the barbarians possessed absolutely no armor. They have no defense against, say, archers.”
Instant worry flooded her. He was right— archers could stand well off the field and pick Rhaekhar’s warriors off one by one. Before she stopped to think through the consequences, she reached for him through the bond.
A throbbing wall of black and red blocked her. Fury, terror, shame, desperation, sorrow roiling in a storm of agony.
She had done this to him. She’d broken his heart. She’d defeated the greatest warrior on the Plains who never lost a challenge, never lost a kae’don. She’d abandoned him.
Gregar, too. The Shadowed Blood had sworn no blade would ever touch her, as long as she allowed him to stay at her back. Simply thinking of him brought a killing frost to his bond, the icy aloneness of the coldest winter night. She’d refused him, too, when he had taken a knife for her. When he would give his life to protect her.
Lady, forgive me.
Blinking back another wave of tears, she pulled herself together as Stephan halted before a small stone chapel. A cold ball of dread lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. Silently, she dismounted. With another sly little smile, Stephan followed and offered his arm to escort her inside. Suppressing a shudder of revulsion, she lightly laid her hand on his arm and walked into the Lady of the Bay Chapel.
Father Aran stood before the altar. Tears flowed again. He was shrunken, aged, so small and forlorn. She’d abandoned him, too, disregarded his premonitions. She’d harshly rejected his counsel. What had he said when she left Dalden Bay? Sometimes the Lady washes our eyes with tears. An ocean of tears.
“Father, I would like to make this lovely woman my wife.”
Father Aran raised his sorrowful, ancient gaze to hers. “Is this the man you want, Daughter of Leesha?”
His pain and regret tied her heart into knots. No “Your Majesty,” but Daughter. Daughter of the Lady. The Blessed Lady of Peace and Love. Love. The one thing she refused to give.
Sobs wracked her throat, shaking her shoulders.
“Does the Lady’s Moon shine in his eyes?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Shannari could only smell baking bread, sweet hay and flowers, horses, warrior. Her warrior. She felt again the hot velvet of his skin, the hard press of his invincible strength against her, the tenderness in his big, rugged hands, the golden blaze of the sun in his burnished eyes. Not the moon, exactly, but filled with such boundless love she knew the Lady would approve.
A hint of dark rich caffe flavored his sweet hay. Wicked laughter, shining obsidian eyes like the night sky filled with flaming stars. The Lady would approve of the Blood, too.
Her blood pulsed in her veins, leaping with longing, screaming with loss. Their blood was hers, now. How many times had they offered blood freely and gladly? Even now, she tasted the rich, smoky taste of them both in her mouth, the metallic salty sweetness rolling on her tongue. She felt the blaze of heat in the pit of her stomach, the clench of her inner muscles, the bitter ache of her heart.
“Search your heart, Daughter. Answer truthfully. Is this the man you wish to wed?”
Heart pounding, she saw the Lake in her mind, the Lake of her dreams. A full moon hung over mirrored waters; a jagged peaked mountain glowed red in the distance. Only a dream she created in her mind to allow her to escape her duty? Or a true message from the Lady?
WE SENT HIM.
DO NOT BE AFRAID TO LOVE.
“Only love can use the Rose Crown. Only love can defeat the Blackest Heart. Only love can shine against the Shadow.”
Love, the greatest gift of all. And the greatest sacrifice.
Father Aran’s voice trembled with strain. “Will you sacrifice for Stephan, Duke of Pella?”
She saw again the rahke coming for her heart, Rhaekhar’s golden eyes gleaming with bloodlust and his unshakeable love. And she suddenly realized she would rather die at his hands than live without him.
If the price of her life was required, she’d pay it for him. She would give him blood. She would give him her body
. She would give him her loyalty, her knowledge of politics and strategy.
She would give him her love.
Even if it meant dying. Even if it meant losing everything. A way was provided. A way to love, even for her scarred, shriveled heart.
:I love you.:
“This is not the man I will wed.” She opened her eyes and smiled through the tears. “The Lady’s Moon shines in Khul Rhaekhar’s eyes. I will wed him and no other.”
“The barbarian?” Stephan laughed, a murderous edge in his voice. He seized her arm, hauling her up against him, his ghastly eyes flashing. “Have you forgotten the High Throne, Shannari? Who else can give it to you but me?”
“The Last Daughter needs no one to give her the High Throne or the Rose Crown.” Father Aran stood straighter and his eyes gleamed with luminance. The smile of joy and pride on his face warmed her heart. “The Lady has washed your eyes with tears, Your Majesty, so you may See.”
Cold water suddenly overflowed from that still Lake in her mind, startling a gasp from her. Ice dripped down her spine, cutting like razorblades. Her stomach heaved so hard she vomited. Her knees collapsed, and the only thing holding her up was so foul, so tainted…
Slowly, she turned her head. Blackness swirled about Stephan. Touching her. Stroking her. Screaming for her death, her blood, her agony. Instead of his face, a naked skull leered at her, snakes of evil curling from his mouth like repulsive tongues.
“Make your choice, Shannari. Marry me. Or go to Theo in chains. Imagine the rewards he’ll give me for bringing you to Shanhasson at last.”
“Never,” she gasped. Her sword. Kill him. Before—
Her arm wouldn’t move. Fighting back the darkness sucking her down, she rolled her head, trying to see, trying to fight. Soldiers. They held her arms.
She jerked and thrashed, fighting the foulness that seeped into her with each breath, but they shackled her in chains so heavy she could hardly move. Father Aran closed his eyes, his mouth moving in a low prayer. Before the Lady could intervene, Stephan casually backhanded him with the butt of his dagger.
The Rose of Shanhasson Page 24