by Donna Grant
“Aye,” Simon said, his gaze going to the ground as he smiled. “She is.”
“Did she tell you that she is not going to be a Hunter anymore?”
Simon met her gaze and issued a single nod. “She mentioned it. She would rather protect the abbey and those that seek its comfort.”
“You are a good match for her. In every way. Like it was destined.”
“Fate.” He chuckled. “Despite the Coven having the proverbial blade at our throats for a while.”
Ravyn frowned at his words. “It is not like the Coven to leave anyone alive. I still do not understand why Sybbyl did not kill Randall.”
“I wondered the same. He did not seem to care about anything when Margery and I fought Sybbyl. He did not even attempt to escape.”
The more Ravyn thought about it, the more that worried her. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“I know why Sybbyl wanted Margery alive,” Simon continued. “Margery is a Hunter, and therefore, a great prize for the Coven.”
Ravyn met his dark gaze. “Why did they keep you alive?”
“I know not,” he said with a shake of his head.
Too many years of training pushed Ravyn to her next question. “Where did you and Margery go when you left the camp yesterday? I know we split up, but it was hours before I saw either of you.”
“Margery and I got separated for a bit,” he admitted. “It took me some time before I was able to find her again. Then we continued to hide so none of the guards would see us.”
“You and Margery were parted? Neither of you mentioned that.”
Simon chuckled and lifted his mug to his lips, draining the ale. “There has not been much talking. I am sure there is a lot we four have to share with each other.”
“Of course,” Ravyn said with a smile.
She had spent too much time doubting everyone. That was in the past now. She had Carac and Simon and Margery to put her faith in.
They had survived the Coven.
And she was getting married to the most wonderful man ever.
It was time to celebrate, not to try and find something bad in all the good that was raining down upon her.
Chapter 33
Lucky. That’s exactly what he was. Carac’s gaze sought out Ravyn again and again as the celebration continued throughout the day.
A few times, he was able to get close to her and share a kiss or two, but then someone called him away or pulled her aside. It was all he could do not to throw her over his shoulder and take her into his tent to make love to her all night.
He craved her body once more. Wanted to hold her against him, to taste her lips. To hear her cries of pleasure.
When night finally fell, he could no longer wait. As soon as he could, he caught Ravyn’s attention and motioned to the tent with his chin. Then he extracted himself from the group he was talking to and made his way to the pavilion.
He finished lighting the last candle when the staff caught his eye. Carac was walking to it when the rustle of the tent flap halted him. He turned just as Ravyn straightened.
Their gazes met, locked. They started toward each other, meeting halfway in a tangle of arms and lips. Their kisses were hungry, their fingers needy as they hurried to shed each other’s clothes.
Finally, they were skin-to-skin. Carac couldn’t believe this woman was going to be his wife—and maybe even one day the mother of his children. But that thought was for another time.
Right now, it was all about her.
Or so he thought until she pushed him back onto the bed. He grinned at her as he rose up to his elbows. She leaned over him, her long hair grazing his chest. He reached for her, wanting to pull her down atop him, but she pulled away. Then she knelt between his legs.
Carac’s breath locked in his throat as he watched her take his cock in her hand before bringing it to her lips. Her sweet mouth parted and took him into her mouth.
He let out a moan as he fell back on the bed, pleasure enveloping him. Between her hand moving up and down his arousal, and her wet mouth sucking him, he was on the verge of orgasm in no time.
And he wasn’t going to wait to be inside her any longer. Carac sat up and pulled her mouth away from his cock before he tossed her onto the bed. She spread her legs and reached for him.
He thrust into her and sighed, his eyes closing at the exquisite feel of her surrounding him. This was where he belonged. With Ravyn. It didn’t matter where they lived or what they did as long as they were together.
She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles. Carac opened his eyes and looked down at his beautiful warrior. He pulled out of her slowly until only the head of his cock remained, then he pushed back inside. Again and again, he thrust—harder and deeper each time until they were clinging to each other.
Ravyn’s nails dug into his arm as she arched her back. She cried out as the orgasm took her. He watched the pleasure fall over her face while her body clamped hard on his cock. His hips moved faster as his own climax rose up. He welcomed it, giving himself over to the ecstasy.
When the last of his seed was drained from him, he pulled out of her and flopped onto his back. He reached for Ravyn the same time she rolled toward him.
He couldn’t begin to describe the peace he felt just holding Ravyn in his arms. And to think, he might have gone the rest of his life without ever knowing such a woman existed.
“I did not think you would share the tent with me,” she teased.
He kissed her forehead and held her tighter. “It seems I cannot stay away from you.”
“Or I, you. I think we have a problem.”
“I like it, though.”
She laughed. “Me, too.”
“Where shall we go from here? I assumed you would want to go to the abbey to hand over the staff.”
Ravyn shifted her head to see him. “I do want to go to the abbey. I think Braith will want to see you, as well. That is if he and Leoma have not left for his castle.”
“It will be on the way. We can stop there first.”
“I have been thinking about the staff.”
Now that intrigued him. He put his free arm behind his head. “And?”
“Rossamond had plenty of opportunities to give it to us while we were with her, and she did not. She chose to make sure everyone understood that she was handing it off to you and entrusting you with the right to guard it.”
Carac stifled a yawn. “Perhaps, but she also knows that I have combined my forces with yours. We work together. And that means the staff is both of ours.”
“I want you to give it to Edra and Radnar.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Really?”
“Really,” she replied with a smile.
Carac laid his head back, his eyes drifting closed. There was so much more he wanted to talk to Ravyn about, but it would have to wait until morning because sleep would no longer wait.
Ravyn didn’t know what woke her. She had been sleeping deeply on Carac’s chest. She yawned and rolled onto her back only to grin at the sound of Carac’s soft snores.
She listened for the noises of celebration, but there was only silence. Had they slept all night? That was odd since she was a light sleeper and would have known when the reveling halted.
After slowly rising so as not to wake Carac, she walked to the flap and peered outside to see the sky beginning to turn gray. So they had slept the entire night. She shook her head and returned to the bed and Carac’s arms.
But she couldn’t go back to sleep. After several attempts, she gave up and finally rose to dress. She put on her Hunter attire and was just pulling on her boots when she heard someone whisper her name.
Ravyn grabbed her crossbow and looked for the last arrow she had given Carac, to no avail. Frustrated, she set aside the weapon and made sure to put her dagger in her boot before stepping out of the tent.
She glanced around for signs of movement. All she saw was smoke f
rom fires that were burning out. There were loud snores from the knights, and grunts as they turned over in their sleep.
Still, she didn’t move for long moments. Someone had said her name. It had sounded like Margery, but she couldn’t be sure.
But nothing was happening there. If she were going to find out who had called to her, then she would have to search for them. Ravyn walked silently away from the tent toward where the horses were kept. The animals were calm, still.
She then made her way through the camp to Simon’s tent. After whispering Margery’s name a few times, she poked her head inside to find the couple sleeping soundly.
If it hadn’t been Margery who said her name, then who was it? Immediately, Ravyn’s thoughts turned to Sybbyl. It also could have been the ghost.
Ravyn turned back in the direction she had come and retraced her steps. There were a few copses of trees in and around the camp, but the forest was a ways off. Yet the sound of a twig snapping echoed like thunder and brought Ravyn to a halt.
She turned her head to the forest. Whatever had come for her was in there. She faced the trees. A predator could lay in wait anywhere in the woods. It would be absolutely foolish for her to venture in alone. She might want the Coven annihilated, but she wasn’t stupid enough to go into what was obviously a trap on her own. She was going to get Carac.
As Ravyn turned away, something moved out of the corner of her eye. She gasped when she saw Margery rushing toward the forest as she withdrew her sword.
Ravyn opened her mouth to call out to her friend, but she hesitated. Instead, she hurried after Margery, hoping to catch her before the Coven—or the ghost—did.
As soon as Ravyn entered the forest, a chill overtook her. Where she’d once thought it a good place to hide from John and even Carac, something had changed. It was silent as a tomb. Danger throbbed like a heartbeat, palpable and conspicuous. Death was there, waiting to take someone.
How she yearned to have her crossbow. Now, Ravyn wished she had listened to Radnar when he urged her to always carry a sword no matter what other weapon she favored. She’d had plenty of arrows before, but now she was learning firsthand what it felt like to be at a disadvantage.
She walked slowly through the trees, her gaze moving over everything as she searched for Margery and anything else. There wasn’t even movement within the leaves. Everything became oppressive and bleak.
“I knew you would come.”
She halted at the voice behind her. “Sybbyl.”
Ravyn slowly turned around to find Margery kneeling with Sybbyl beside her. And on Margery’s other side was none other than Angmar.
“You were right,” Angmar said to Sybbyl.
Sybbyl smiled while glaring at Ravyn. “I cannot believe you doubted that I could get these two here.”
“But they do not have the staff,” the elder stated.
Ravyn didn’t take her eyes off Sybbyl. They had been celebrating their victory over the Coven by making them think the staff was out of reach. She should’ve known the witches wouldn’t accept such a story.
“Oh, she will get it,” Sybbyl declared with a smile.
Ravyn’s heart sank. But she would try to dissuade them again. “Did you not hear us at the castle? Even the ghost told you the staff is gone.”
“Angmar believed your story might be true, but I was not so quick to believe,” Sybbyl said. “We know you have the staff. And you are going to bring it to me.”
Margery tsked. “Or you will kill me... The same old threat.”
Ravyn glanced at Margery when Sybbyl’s smile turned truly evil. “Or what?” Ravyn asked the witch.
“Do not do it,” Margery said.
Before the last syllable had left her mouth, Sybbyl held out her hand and said two words. Ravyn could only stare in shock as Margery’s clothes melted away and her chest burst open so that her heart flew into Sybbyl’s hand.
After Margery had fallen forward, Ravyn lifted her gaze to the witches. “There is no staff,” she said again, trying not to look at the fear and pain on Margery’s face.
Her friend would not die in vain. Not after everything they had done and sacrificed. The staff would remain out of the Coven’s hands.
“You had quite a party yesterday,” Sybbyl said. “And are soon to be married I hear.”
Even before Sybbyl said the words, Ravyn knew what was coming. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“Did you see Margery’s face before her heart was torn from her chest?” Sybbyl asked with a fake shudder. “It was excruciating. Trust me when I tell you that Carac’s death will be ten times worse.”
Angmar smiled coldly. “Nay, we will not kill him. Instead, I will force him to kill everyone at John’s and Randall’s castles. Can you imagine a man like Carac carrying the weight of those murders around?”
It would kill him. The only thing Ravyn could be grateful for was that his death would come soon after.
Sybbyl shared a grin with Angmar. “Making Carac live with the knowledge that he is a murderer will be worse than killing him.”
Angmar shook her head as she laughed. “We’re making him work for us.”
That would destroy him. Everything that Ravyn had fallen in love with would be stripped away piece by piece. It would be a hellish life for a man like Carac. And he deserved more.
She couldn’t do that to him. Her love was too great. Besides, the abbey had the Blood Skull. So what if the Coven had the Staff of the Eternal?
“Or,” Angmar began.
“I will get it,” Ravyn interrupted her.
Sybbyl laughed and lifted her chin. “Bring it to us. Now.”
Ravyn didn’t even bother to try and get a promise that the witches would leave everyone alone because they couldn’t be trusted. Her knees knocked together as she walked past Margery’s dead body and back to camp.
With every step, she prayed that Carac was still asleep. Mercifully, he was. She stood beside the bed and gazed down at him, tears gathering in her eyes at what could have been.
Then she took the staff and her crossbow and walked away without looking back.
Chapter 34
Something was wrong. Carac knew it from the moment his eyes opened. He lay still upon the bed, listening. The faint stirring of the knights as they rose to meet the new day reached him. Then he turned his head to the side.
His heart leapt in his chest, fear coiling like a snake when he found the bed empty. The spot where Ravyn had slept was vacant—and cold. She had been gone for some time.
Carac sat up, his gaze scanning the tent as his mind raced with possibilities. As soon as he thought of Margery, he breathed a sigh. No doubt Ravyn had gone to visit her friend to see to her wounds.
He rubbed his chest and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful had transpired. After everything that had happened over the past several days, it had become a common occurrence. He needed to accept that things had changed.
Maybe then, he wouldn’t wake with the fear that something had been taken from him. Namely, Ravyn. Of all people, he knew she would never do anything dishonorable. He had seen the kind of woman she was firsthand in the midst of turmoil and the heat of battle. Once you saw that side of someone, you recognized their true selves.
Carac rose, raking a hand through his hair. He dressed while sorting everything that would need to be done that day in his mind. There was no reason to remain. It was time to head to the abbey.
But first, he needed to speak with his men. They deserved to know the truth and learn just what they would be fighting if they decided to remain.
There would be some who wanted no part of such conflict. Carac had several men he knew would lead them well. They would no longer be able to carry his banner or fight under his name, but they could still do well on their own.
Carac tore off a piece of bread and put it into his mouth as his gaze went to the bed. He wished he could have woken with Ravyn by his side
. But there would be years for such things.
He swallowed and took a long drink from the waterskin before taking the rest of the bread and exiting the tent. He straightened and breathed in the morning air. The sun was streaked a vibrant red and pink with the sun rising on the horizon.
Carac had seen many sunrises, but this was the first in his life with Ravyn. It didn’t matter that they weren’t yet man and wife. Their hearts were bound, and that united them deeper than any vows ever could.
There was a smile on his face as he strolled through camp and watched his men wake up with hangovers. When he reached Simon’s tent, he stopped near the entrance and stoked the dying fire. The morning air was cool. It wouldn’t be long before the first snow fell. Simon always woke before sunrise, but after the following night, Carac gave him some time.
After finishing his bread and waiting thirty minutes, Carac called his friend’s name. There was no response. He scanned the camp, wondering if he’d missed Simon as he walked to the tent.
Carac’s head turned to the shelter. He called Simon’s name again. This time, when there was no answer, he pulled the flap back and peered inside. Simon was on his side, but he was alone.
That horrible feeling tightened like a steel band around his chest. Carac strode into the tent and shook Simon’s shoulder. It took several attempts, which wasn’t normal, before Simon finally stirred.
He blinked and looked up at Carac before rolling onto his back. “What is it?”
“Do you feel all right?”
Simon shrugged. “My head aches, and I crave more sleep. Why are you up so early?”
“It’s dawn.”
That had Simon frowning. He rose up on one elbow and ran a hand down his face. Not once did he look or reach for Margery. The longer Carac watched his friend, the more concerned he became.
“Where is Margery?” Carac asked.
Simon finally looked over his shoulder before he shrugged. “She is about somewhere.”
“I would like to find her and Ravyn.”
Simon chuckled as he stood and pushed Carac out of the way so he could dress. “They can take care of themselves. They are Hunters.”