She held her breath, certain he’d hear her heart hammering against her chest. He took a step toward her bed and then another. She had to move before he realized she wasn’t in it. She reached for him, but before she could even touch his shoulders, he spun about, quicker than a moonbeam, and grabbed her about the waist with both hands. Pulling her in tight against him, he crushed her breasts against his slablike chest.
How had he known?
Reaching up, she grabbed the sides of his head, felt the stubble on his cheeks, and pulled his face in close to hers, crushing his lips with her own. He moaned and thrust against her, his erection already like rock. Her lips parted, and his tongue was in her mouth, his hand over her breast, squeezing and caressing it. His fingers brushed against her nipple through the fabric of her thin shift, holding it between thumb and index finger. She gasped and pushed against him, wanting him, needing him. The back of his legs collided with the edge of her bed, and entangled, they fell atop it. Breaking free, she pushed against his hips, creating enough space to reach his pants and yank them down. His breath was hot and wet against her neck.
“Now, Brice,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you now.”
He kicked his boots free, sat against the bed, and yanked his pants all the way off. She pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his chest and his hard stomach. Unable to wait a moment more, she shoved him back onto the bed, hiked her shift up over her hips, and climbed atop him, mounting him in a moment of pure bliss. They both gasped, as if they had just plunged into a cold mountain lake. Then, taking over, she began to ride him, thrusting against him, moving faster and faster—desperate to take all of him. He yanked her shift up over her head, ripping it from her. Then, he gripped her soft breasts with his rough warrior hands, squeezing them and pulling on her nipples. Leaning forward, he placed his mouth over one of them, his breath hot and wet. She pulled his head against her harder. It felt so good, so right. Soon, they were both panting, and then they were both moaning. He strained to push up against her with his hips, trying to drive himself deeper within her, to become part of her, and she pushed herself down on him even harder. A tidal wave of bliss coursed through her, rippling through every muscle of her body, and she cried out at the same time as he did. Breathless, she collapsed atop him, utterly spent.
Drenched in sweat, she lay against his heaving chest. He wrapped one of his powerful arms around her, holding her tightly. “Save me,” she whispered into his ear. “I missed you so much.”
Panting still, he chuckled and kissed her neck. “We need to be quieter,” he whispered. “We’re going to get caught someday.”
Disentangling himself from her, he rose to his feet and stumbled into her solar to listen at the door to the hallway. He always did that, as if he were a little boy, worried that someone would catch them. She pushed herself up on her elbows and watched him, the moonlight shining upon his muscled back, his strong shoulders, and his perfect, round buttocks.
She lay back, sighing contentedly. “I was expecting you yesterday,” she said, hearing the petulant whine in her own voice.
He came back to her, lay down beside her, and trailed his fingers over her abdomen and breasts, playing with a nipple again.
“Stop that.” She swatted at his hand.
But instead of letting go, he gripped her entire breast, holding it in place, as if it were his property. He breathed into her neck. “I didn’t think it… proper, not after your father just died. But I can’t stay away from you, Danika.” His voice was husky. “You’re the air in my lungs, my reason for living.”
“You should have come sooner. I needed you.”
He sat up on one elbow, trailing one finger across her face. “I’m so sorry. Your… your father was a good man. I always… liked him.”
Liked but not respected. She grabbed his hand, pulled it from her face, and kissed his palm. “I needed you.”
“I… I thought you’d need some time.”
“I needed you. I needed this. Never stay away from me again.” She let go of his hand and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her.
He pulled free and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her.
She moved behind him, placing her cheek against his shoulder and hugging him. “What?”
They sat there in silence for some moments. She knew what he was going to say. It never changed. Brice Awde was nothing if not consistent. She couldn’t give him what he wanted, but as much as she dreaded it, a part of her needed to hear him say it, needed to hear him ask—as impossible as it was.
He placed his hands atop hers, over his stomach. “Now…” His voice faltered, thick with emotion. “Now that your father has passed… will you come away with me now?”
“Brice, my love,” she whispered into his ear. “You know I can’t. Palin will need me, now more than ever.”
“I need you.”
“We need to wait. I can’t leave him now, not like this.”
“If we keep going like this, we’re going to get caught. You think your chambermaids don’t already whisper about us?”
“Suspecting and having it thrust in front of your face are two different things. If we are discreet, nothing need ever change.”
“Everything will change. The nature of life is change. When your brother becomes duke, he will find you a husband. Mark my words, more suitors will come sniffing after you and your family’s name.”
“And I’ll send them running, just as I have with all the others. I only want you.”
He shook his head. “You’re twenty-five, Danika, the only daughter of a great family.”
“Once great.”
“Still great. More men will come. They’ll bargain for you and make your brother offers he can’t turn down. He’ll need to make a deal before you’re too old.”
She pushed away from him. “Now you insult me.”
He turned and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her back, and holding her tightly. “Never,” he whispered into her breasts. “I’m being realistic. We need to run now, before it’s too late.”
Trailing her fingers through his hair, she fought down her emotions. “Things will change, my love. You’ll see. If we find that stupid sword, he won’t even need me any longer.”
“He’ll always need you, with or without Sight-Bringer.”
“He needs me now,” she said.
“I need you more. Me. I have silver saved up, enough for us both to disappear across the Promiscuous Sea. No one will know us. In the east, perhaps in Xi’ur, we can just be a man and a woman—start fresh.”
“You know I can’t—and you? Would you forsake your oath?”
“My oath was to your father.”
“And my family.”
“No, Danika—just your father. I was very careful about that. Besides, Sayer is a good man, capable. He can take my place, and at least one of the men, young Toscovar, has potential, would make a suitable lieutenant for Sayer. We can do this.”
“That blond thug? Please. No. I can’t leave my brother, not until he has secured his title. He’s obsessed with going back to Greywynne Island to dig up those damned catacombs and find that sword. Would you leave Sayer in charge there? Surrounded by those people?”
“Sayer is—”
“Is not you. He’s not Brice Awde. My brother needs you, and he needs me. I can’t abandon him, not now.”
Silence settled between them. For long moments, they sat thus, her in his lap, her head against his chest.
Finally, he spoke. “You shame me, Danika Dain. It’s you who should be duke. What a leader you’d make.”
She trailed her fingers over the hair of his chest, twirling it. “We find Sight-Bringer,” she said. “Then, the king confirms Palin as duke, and maybe—just maybe—that old fool finally pays Stron’s war debts. Then, everything will be different.”
“Palin will still marry you off—and I’ll die.”
She gripped his chin and turned his face to stare into his eyes. “I wo
n’t let that happen, not ever.” She kissed the scar that ran down his neck. Then, her fingers snaked downward to grip him.
He gasped. “Save me, woman. How young do you think I am?”
“Brice Awde, you’re the best man in the north. Isn’t that what everyone says?” She stroked him so that despite his objections, his body reacted, becoming hard for her again. “When this is done,” she whispered, lying back and pulling him atop her, “once we’re back safe, and my brother is secure in his title, then I’ll go away with you.”
His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “You promise?”
“Yes, you big stupid soldier. I promise.”
She cried out as he entered her again.
Chapter 9
Owen
Owen’s gaze took in the horses, wagons, and men preparing to march south. The party setting out from Castle Dain to Greywynne Island was considerable, just under a hundred strong. Seventy-five men-at-arms—half the castle’s garrison—were being led by Keep-Captain Awde and Keep-Lieutenant Sayer. While most of the men were walking, with the exception of those riding the supply wagons, Owen, Dilan, and Fin had been chosen to ride as scouts because of their superb riding skills. The remainder of the expedition consisted of young Lord Palin and his sister, the Lady Danika, and her pretty blond handmaiden, Wren. Also going was elderly Father Cotlas, as well as the new priest, Father Bowen. A handful of other servants made up the rest of the expedition, including the new physician, Modwyn Du’Aig, for which Owen was thankful. While Keep-Captain Awde had insisted that all the men-at-arms learn how to minister to wounds—to set bones and cover cuts with poultices—without a real physician, any open wounds were likely to fester—and in the wilderness, that would be fatal.
Owen inspected Gale’s saddle, making sure it was cinched tightly. He walked about the large horse, running his hands over his muscular flank. In the three days since they had bought the animal, Gale’s raspy breathing had all but disappeared. Good feed and a clean stable could work wonders for a horse’s health. Owen may not have been the businessman his brother was, but he knew how to care for horses.
They were traveling with supplies enough to last weeks—not only food and weapons, but also tools for excavation and lumber and canvas to build a provisional camp. For what purpose exactly, they still didn’t know, but Keep-Captain Awde had told them they were traveling deep into the interior of Greywynne Island, to the ruins of Greywynne Fortress, the ancestral home of the Blood Queen Serina Greywynne and her family, a place of evil tales and dark legends.
Owen couldn’t wait.
They planned to follow the Forest Road south once again, that time moving past the Green Heart Inn, along the King’s Road to Port Ollechta and the Bay of Glory, and from there into the fabled Promiscuous Sea. In Port Ollechta, they would board a ship and sail south and east, following the Fenyir Islands chain. The islands, named after their occupants, the barbarous Fenyir clans, swung northeast like a fishhook, reaching most of the way to exotic Hishtar. Their final destination, Greywynne Island—gifted by the king to the Dain family and the Duchy of Wolfrey for their part in defeating Serina—sat near the most southern point of the Fenyir Islands. Greywynne Island had the only deep-water port in the Promiscuous Sea and was a major resupply link between Hishtar and Conarck.
Owen turned as Dilan approached, leading his own horse. Dilan wore his ring-mail coat and a sword and carried a long wooden lance, its metal point gleaming in the early-morning sunlight.
Dilan placed the shaft against the ground and leaned on it, watching Owen. “You seem pleased.”
Owen smiled as he adjusted his ring mail, letting a flap of it hang over his belt, taking some of the weight off his shoulders. “I am. I’ve seen nothing of the world.”
“It may not be all you hope for.”
A horn sounded near the front of the line—the call to get underway. Owen mounted Gale and rode beside Dilan. Women and children waved good-bye as they left the castle. As Owen rode out under its gatehouse, he saw the bodies of the Ballard brothers twisting beneath the gallows. The face of Emrys Ballard, locked in death, seemed to be smiling at Owen.
#
Two days later, as Owen and Fin rode over a ridge of land, far ahead of the others, he saw Port Ollechta, his first-ever real city, and the sparkling waters of the Bay of Glory. He stood in his stirrups to see better, staring in wonder at gleaming white walls surrounding the massive city. The sea was magnificent, like nothing he had ever seen before. The northern mountain lakes, large though some of them were, paled in comparison.
“Hey! You listening?” Fin raised his voice.
“What?” Owen started and realized Fin had been talking to him.
Fin sighed. “I asked if you were coming.”
Owen nodded. “Lead on.”
They rode down the ridgeline, following the well-kept King’s Road, occasionally passing wagons, riders, and travelers on foot. As they approached the tall white walls of the city, Owen saw that, unlike in the north, most of the city’s buildings were made of stone, with bright red-and-orange-tiled roofs instead of thatch. Then, the wind shifted, blowing in from the bay. He almost gagged.
“Save me, that’s foul.” Fin covered his mouth with his hand.
“Thousands of people all living together within the city’s walls.” Owen coughed. “Must get used to it, I guess.”
“Civilization,” said Fin. “Bigger than Wolfredsuntown.”
“At the peak of High Summer Festival, I’ve never seen more than six, maybe seven hundred people gathered together in Wolfredsuntown,” said Owen. “Port Ollechta could swallow all of them and still have room to spare.”
Fin smirked at Owen. “Must be a lot of women.”
“More likely a lot of whores,” said Owen.
“And?”
“And when you come down with the serpent’s pox and the new physician has to drain the pus from your enlarged stones with a giant needle, you’ll regret having visited the brothels—if the Keep-Captain doesn’t just have you whipped outright for stupidity.”
“Oh, yeah.” Fin’s face turned white. “There is that, I guess.”
“Let’s go.” Owen nudged Gale’s flanks with his heels.
Chapter 10
Fioni
Fioni Ice-Bound, master of Fen Wolf—the sleekest, most maneuverable, and by far prettiest serpent ship to ever carry a Fenyir war party—sat atop the stone wall of a landing leading up to one of Port Ollechta’s many alehouses. Her sea boots dangled over the wall, her heels striking the stones in a constant cadence as she watched the soldiers ride past below.
“And where are you lot off to, I wonder,” she told herself softly.
“What?” asked her first mate, Vory Eel-Gifted, standing just behind her.
Vory, towering over her from behind, scowled at the passing soldiers. With his bushy, unkempt beard, long, scraggly head of bright-red hair, and massive chest covered in the same thick mat of red hair, Vory looked more bear than man. His bare arms, thick, corded with muscle, and covered by a patchwork of old scars and faded clan tattoos, rested atop the haft of his two-handed war axe. Vory didn’t like cities, she knew, didn’t like all the people in cities, didn’t like the smell, and didn’t like the thieves. However, to be fair, Vory didn’t really like anyone who wasn’t of the Waveborn Clan or—to be brutally honest—most who were, either.
“She’s wondering who they are,” said Kora.
Kora Far-Sails, her Oar-Master and closest friend in the world, stood farther back behind Vory, leaning against the doorway to the alehouse, picking at her fingernails with her newly purchased Kur’teshi dagger, for which she’d spent twice its value, in Fioni’s mind. Unlike most of the other female warriors among Fen Wolf’s crew, Kora wasn’t particularly large or powerful, but she was fast, skilled, and utterly fearless—and that combination made her very dangerous. Like Fioni, Kora kept her hair short and pleated, which made it far easier to maintain at sea—and less hazardous in battle. Unlike Fioni, K
ora’s hair was dirty blond, not fiery red. Just below Kora’s hairline, along her forehead, were two dolphin tattoos, each facing the other as they leaped from waves. Kora Far-Sails was well name gifted—a master mariner from a long line of master mariners. Her mother had even sailed with Fioni’s great-grandfather Serl, perhaps the greatest of the Waveborn’s mariners. Unlike most of the crew, who could only afford axes and spears, Kora wore two finely crafted Lyrian swords.
“I know who they are,” snapped Fioni. “Do you not see the Lion of Wolfrey on their shields? I’m wondering where they’re going with all the wagons because it looks like they’re planning on staying somewhere a while and maybe doing something… interesting.”
“Southeast,” said Vory, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.
Fioni sighed and bit her lip but said nothing. Of course they’re going southeast. They were in Port Ollechta after all, trading post between Conarck, Hishtar, and the far east. The real question is how far they are going.
Fioni wondered whether she could profit from that knowledge.
Kora snickered, and Fioni glanced over her shoulder to glare at the woman. Kora looked away, at least having the decency to pretend to be sorry. Vory didn’t like it when people made fun of him, and despite what many thought—including many of their own clan, who really should have known better—Vory was more than clever enough to figure out when others were laughing at him, which rarely ever ended well for the joker. And Kora, bless her childish heart, just loved goading the bear, driving him to the point of near apoplexy before relenting, then skipping away as if she had done nothing.
One of these days, she’s going to push him too far. What will she do then?
Probably marry him.
One of the soldiers, sitting atop a large horse as black as the eye of a shark, caught her attention. He was a young blond man with wide shoulders, his helmet resting atop his saddle horn. Very handsome, she thought, with a strong chin covered by several days of blond grizzle. No doubt, there’d be a nice, strong chest beneath that armor, blanketed by that same blond fuzz. She did like them blond, liked to twine her fingers through their chest hairs… through their other hairs.
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