The Rose of Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  :Not forbidden.: Rhaekhar’s bond glowed in her mind, golden and warm like his eyes. She felt only immense relief from him that she was safe and well, mixed with satisfaction. He was actually glad that she’d kissed his Blood. That she… :I will never deny you something you need. And you need him, na’lanna.:

  Shame choked her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The barbarian charged toward her, unswerving in his love and honor. He would find her anywhere, ride through anything and anyone, to reach her. Even after her adamant refusals. Even after she had turned her back on him.

  While she dallied with his Blood, one of his best friends. How could Rhaekhar forgive her this unfaithfulness?

  :There is no shame in the love of your heart, na’lanna.:

  :I love you.: Her words came to him in a wail, a cry of anguish.

  :I know.: Rhaekhar swamped her heart with so much love, so much joy, that tears burned her eyes. :And you love him, too. Now get on his na’kindre and ride to me as quickly as possible so I may show you exactly how much your love means to me. How much your love means to us both.:

  Gregar was already standing, drawing her up with him. His black horse whuffed, nodding its head, pawing the ground. “Aye, Shaido, we ride hard and fast.”

  Shannari started to laugh at the thought of conversation with a horse, but then she looked into its eyes. Gleaming ink, but luminescent as the moon, and frighteningly intelligent. The horse winked at her; she swore it was laughing.

  Mounting quickly, Gregar leaned down and offered his hand. A wicked gleam flashed in his eyes, and she knew he was giving her a deliberate choice. Would she ride in his arms as she allowed Khul to carry her? Or would she refuse him, riding behind as she’d done with Stephan?

  Grumbling, she took Gregar’s hand and let him haul her up before him. He wrapped her close, pulling her up beneath his chin and shaking his hair down around her. The sable pelt was heavier than Rhaekhar’s hair, more like velvet. Sinful velvet. “Wasn’t Drendon supposed to provide my own mount?”

  Gregar chuckled and turned his mount south, setting the pace to a hard trot. “Aye, but finding your perfect na’kindre has proven difficult. Khul is very choosy and has not been able to find what he wants for you yet. Drendon was quite insulted and nearly challenged him to another kae’rahke.”

  Father Josef reined up beside them. “What think you of our self-proclaimed High King, Your Majesty?”

  Shannari had to push Gregar’s hair out of her face so she could speak. “I think the Green Lands are doomed to darkness under his rule.”

  “We’ve been praying for Theo’s removal from the royal line for quite some time.” Father Josef admitted. “Our Blessed Lady knows the heart of every man and woman, Your Majesty. Theo’s been careful to keep most of his cruelty hidden from everyone, but we saw, and we heard, and we prayed for your safe return to the Green Lands.”

  “As long as he lives, there is no safety in the Green Lands for me.” She saw again Theo’s hatred, his perversion, and her skin crawled. “Besides, I— ” She sighed, struggling to find the words. How could she tell the holy priests who prayed for her safety that she planned to abandon them?

  “Father Aran agreed wholeheartedly, Your Majesty. He regretted the manner in which he sent you to safety on the Plains, but he knew it was the only way.”

  A way will be provided.

  WE SENT HIM TO SAVE YOU. WE SENT HIM TO LOVE YOU.

  Her throat clogged with tears, aching. All this time, she’d clung to duty, to politics, to what she’d assumed Leesha’s will must be. While Our Blessed Lady had sent her the love she needed to gain her magic, and safety from Theo’s minions. And she had fought every step of the way.

  “Our Lady’s will is not easy to understand, Your Majesty.” Father Josef reached out to her, hesitating at a low warning rumble from Gregar. “We are only human. We can only do our best, pray for guidance, and follow our heart.”

  Follow her heart— all the way back to Rhaekhar.

  At the tightening of arms around her, the Blood’s chin dropping to her shoulder, she sighed. After so long, she’d feared she’d never love again. Hoped to never love again. Now she had not one but two obstinate, arrogant, demanding warriors to deal with. “And to you, too.”

  Wicked pleasure surged through his bond, followed by a dark, aching longing that stole her breath. Instead of following through with that yearning, Gregar eased his grip and straightened, his bond hardening with determination. Her body screamed danger, threat, death at her back, her blind spot, but she ignored it and wiggled deeper into his embrace.

  A rock-hard erection dug into her lower back. Heat flooded her, clenching her thigh muscles, her stomach. Hadn’t he told her he was above such feelings as Blood?

  :Not when you look at me and feel such desire. I am not made of stone, na’lanna. Not even a Blood bond could prevent a warrior from responding to you.:

  For a moment, she felt a sharpness in his bond. Bitterness? Jealousy?

  :You have corrupted me entirely.: His bond wound through her, stroking like his incredible hair, tightening her body even more. He laughed in her head, so wicked and dangerous and utterly irresistible. :I beg you, corrupt me some more.:

  The priest gasped softly. Grateful for the interruption, Shannari searched his face. “What is it?”

  “I See— ” His eyes were soft and dreamy, his voice gentle. “When I first saw you, the Rose Crown was on your head, just as Father Aran told me long ago. Now, though, I See more. A dark green cape about your shoulders. A white knife in your hand. I don’t know what they mean.”

  “I do,” Gregar replied, his voice smug.

  Irritated at the leap of her pulse, the immediate hope and joy flooding her heart, she retorted, “I can’t be both Khul’lanna and High Queen at the same time.”

  “Who says you cannot?” Gregar deliberately pressed his groin tighter against her back, grinding against her until she made a sound unfortunately close to a whimper.

  Damned Sha’Kae al’Dan clothing. What she wouldn’t give for a full suit of armor! “I must rule the Green Lands from the High Throne.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Father Josef said slowly. “Our Blessed Lady dictates that only a Child of Her Blood may rule from the High Throne, true. But Her protection and blessings on the land come through the Rose Crown, not the High Throne itself. Theo can’t touch the Rose Crown. If he did, you would no longer be in danger, for he’d drop dead immediately.”

  Shannari’s mind whirled with strategy and politics. The Green Lands were too loosely aligned to allow a successful rule from a distance. Not long term, at least. But if she made regular trips to Shanhasson… She’d have to talk through things with her father, but they might make it work. “What exactly do you recommend?”

  “I See the green cape on your shoulders, as firm and solid as the Rose Crown. Once you eliminate Theo— ” Father Josef shrugged and smiled. “You are the Rose of Shanhasson, Your Majesty. The Last Daughter. None will be able to refuse you.”

  “Why didn’t my mother take the Rose Crown then? Why did she live in exile in Allandor, only to die at the hands of an assassin?”

  Father Josef’s face tightened, grim grooves lining his mouth. “Rikard never allowed her near the Rose Crown. As she came into her power, she fled Shanhasson and swore to never return. Why, I don’t know. But I assure you, Your Majesty, once the Rose Crown is on your head, none will stand against you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Pointing to the southwest, Father Josef asked, “What’s that?”

  The night sky glowed red. Unless an entire village was on fire, the only thing she could think of that would create such a glow was—

  “Campfires, a great many of them.” Gregar drew his horse to a halt, his voice grim. “Friend or foe, Shannari?”

  “We’re still in Shanhasson, so foe. But Theo doesn’t have that many troops, does he?”

  “The entire Shanhasson Guard only numbers a few hundred troops,” Father Jose
f replied. “He wouldn’t send his whole force away and leave himself vulnerable.”

  “I have a very bad feeling about this. Gregar, can you get close enough to see what flags they carry? Their exact number?”

  “Will you kiss me again?” He whispered against her ear, his voice husky. “I want your hands in my hair, your tongue wrapped around mine, your scent in my nose, your body aching with need. For me.”

  Clenching her jaw, she fought back her automatic retort. She wanted what he asked for just as badly. She nodded once, sharply, and he breathed heavily into her ear. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  He slipped to the ground and almost immediately disappeared. Cold chills raced up and down her arms, ice trickling down her spine. She hated it when he did that. She hated the thought of Shadow tainting him, corrupting him even more than she’d already done.

  :The taint doesn’t touch me any longer. Not with your love in my heart.:

  She said nothing, but she knew he felt the surge of relief, of longing, of love, through his Blood bond. She stole a glance at the priest, wondering what he would think of such a relationship. Wondering what the nobles would think. Bad enough their future High Queen would wed a barbarian. Let alone take two savages to her bed.

  Rhaekhar suddenly spoke in her head, his voice low and rough. :Aye, both of us, at the same time.:

  She jerked with shock, both at his constant surveillance and what he suggested. He definitely wasn’t angered or outraged at the picture that formed in her mind. Gregar solid against her back; Rhaekhar staring into her eyes, his golden gaze blazing like the sun. He thrust hard and deep, stealing her breath, drawing a cry from her, while Gregar—

  :Stop it at once!:

  :That was your desire, na’lanna. I merely made the suggestion. You supplied the delightful image.:

  “The Moon is quite lovely tonight.” Father Josef stared up at the silvered crescent rising to the south. “And the stars, so bright.” He turned to her and the sudden intensity in his gaze snagged her attention fully. “I See stars blazing about you, Your Majesty. They glow so brightly, with you blazing in the center, that you might very well set the world on fire with your love.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Smiling, she whispered, “My beloved Evening Stars.”

  “With great love comes great power, Your Majesty.” Sympathy flickered over his face. And pain. “Our Blessed Lady has blessed you indeed.”

  How many times did Gregar speak of the day he would die? Agony pierced her heart so hard she rubbed her chest absently. “Love, the greatest gift of all.”

  “And the greatest sacrifice.” Out of the night, Gregar appeared on her left, scaring her to death. “I counted at least six fists of men on foot and two fists of ponies staked out on lines to the east of their camp. The two cloths waving in the center of their tents were of a gray four-legged animal and a pink flower.”

  “The rampaging Boar of Pella and the Rose of Shanhasson,” she replied slowly. “Well, now I know where Stephan’s reserves are.”

  “What does that mean?” Father Josef asked, frowning.

  “It means we’d better ride hard for Fort Walton and raise the alarm. Shanhasson and Pella have united and will strike the fort at dawn. And if Fort Walton falls, all of Allandor will quickly follow.”

  * * * *

  As the northernmost fort closest to Shanhasson and the ever-present threat of the royal family, Fort Walton had grown over the years to be the mightiest fort in Allandor. And yet, instead of well-manned walls and sharp, experienced sentries, Shannari found a nearly deserted post.

  A familiar face met them in the courtyard. “Captain Fenton! Where is everyone?”

  Fenton saluted her and handed her a beribboned letter bearing the Allandorian royal seal. She scanned it quickly and then turned away to stare out over the wall. Oh, Father, what have you done?

  The letter ordered all but a handful of the fort’s once mighty contingent to ride south. King Valche wrote of Pellan plans to take Dalden Bay from the barbarians. He wrote of driving the barbarians back or wiping out Pella’s infantry once and for all with the full might of Allandor.

  While he left their northern border completely unmanned.

  With Shanhasson’s aid, the Duke of Pella’s small force— no doubt made up of his finest divisions— would ride to the heart of Allandor unmolested.

  Her father would return home to find the gray boar flying over Rashan.

  Shannari reached for her sword, grimacing when she remembered it was gone. “Nearly five hundred soldiers wait just over the border to invade at this empty Fort. Damnation!”

  “I objected as much as I was able, Your Majesty,” Fenton said, pacing back and forth. “He left me with a skeleton force, fully expecting me to hold it until he returns with my men. You could have made him listen to reason, but he waved my concerns away.”

  “What is it, Your Majesty?” Father Josef asked.

  “It’s a trap.” She cast out her senses, reaching for Rhaekhar down their na’lanna bond. He was coming, a furious, urgent force of unstoppable love. She trembled with that brief brush against his heart and soul. But would he arrive in time? Would he even care about this Green Land battle?

  He will if he must ride through Pella’s troops to reach me.

  “Nay.” Gregar wrapped steely arms around her to crush her against him. “You will not do this. You will not risk your life.”

  :Nay!: Rhaekhar bellowed in her head so loudly she winced. :Ride to me without delay!:

  “I’m the Princess of Allandor and the Last Daughter of Our Blessed Lady.” Her voice was muffled against Gregar’s chest, but she knew he heard. “I can’t abandon my countrymen to Pella and Shanhasson, not after what I saw in the High Court.”

  “No matter. Khul shall challenge me if I allow you to risk your life for outlanders who know nothing of honor. And I would let him drain every drop of blood in my body if any harm came to you.”

  Rhaekhar’s bond tugged on her, straining with fury. :If he allows you to do this, I shall kill him.:

  She pulled back enough to look up into Gregar’s face. Grim and chiseled from granite, the Blood glared down at her with the cold Shadow of Death in his eyes. He felt every ounce of Khul’s fury; he didn’t need to hear Khul’s threat. “Please, Gregar. Remember my honor. Not Khul’s, but mine. I can’t leave these men to die while I ride to safety.”

  Still, he hesitated. One of his big hands cupped her cheek and his other hand kneaded her back while he considered her request.

  “I can’t run again.”

  A tremor shook him from head to foot and he finally nodded. “You will tell me all your plans. If I decide your life is endangered too greatly, you must retreat to safety without delay.”

  Her smile wobbly, she nodded. “Of course.”

  Gregar leaned down close enough that his breath wafted against her face. “Before Khul challenges me and I allow him to kill me, will you invite me to Khul’s blankets just one time? I want very much to expand on the image you created for him.”

  She ground her teeth with frustration and cursed her flaming cheeks. Was there no such thing as privacy any longer? Where she could have a sinfully tempting thought without one— or both— of these annoyingly demanding warriors knowing of it? “Bloody hell.”

  “Is that aye or nay?” Gregar pressed his mouth to her ear, laughing huskily. “My death will be worth such a reward. Only I wish for you to look into my eyes while Khul pleasures you.”

  Shoving him in the chest, she whirled away and concentrated on battle. On trying to save a besieged fort with a handful of soldiers. That was easier than facing the flames blazing in the Blood’s eyes, his devilish smile.

  Thankfully, he didn’t press for an answer. Or worse, declare a challenge. Facing Rhaekhar would be enough of a challenge after feeling so much for another man. Let alone his fury that she refused to continue riding toward him. His bond was a cold, hard blade, gleaming in her mind like fresh steel. And very,
very silent.

  “Fenton, how many men remain under your command here?”

  “Less than one hundred, Your Majesty. As King Valche ordered, the main force marched south last week.”

  “Gregar, how many warriors ride with Khul?” she asked without turning around to look at him.

  “Two fists.”

  She turned and looked Fenton in the eye. “Three divisions of Pella’s infantry and one of Theo’s cavalry will strike the fort at dawn. Can you hold the fort against them until my Khul arrives with his warriors roughly an hour later?”

  “If you’re with us as Captain, then we can hold. The men will hold against Lygon Himself.”

  Shannari sighed. :Forgive me, Rhaekhar, but I must do this.: “I’m with you, Fenton. Now, let’s prepare for battle.”

  * * * *

  Shannari walked the top of the wall to survey the approaching enemy troops. Whole sections of the wall remained unmanned, but she’d worked with Fenton the last hour before dawn to devise a plan. The enemy would know exactly how diminished their force would be— that was Stephan’s true purpose all along in attacking Dalden Bay. His contingency plan, so to speak. Even if she failed to marry him, he would take Allandor by force from the north and win the new High King’s eternal devotion by handing her over to him at the same time.

  Brilliant, actually. And he’d come terrifyingly close to pulling it off.

  She didn’t need to hold Fort Walton forever, though, and that was the key her enemy would not know. They knew nothing of the impressive force led by one very furious barbarian. That he was furious with her made no difference. He’d mow them down in his haste to reach her. What he would do when he did so, then, was another question entirely.

  Shivering, she touched Rhaekhar’s bond again. Ominous silence.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt him quite so angry before,” Gregar said thoughtfully. “Not even when he learned of Sontache’s plan to deliberately embarrass you. Not even— ”

  “I know,” she broke in, shooting a glare at the Blood. “I do what I must. I’ll apologize when he gets here.”