A Midwinter Fantasy

by Leanna Renee Hieber; L. J. McDonald; Helen Scott Taylor

  Jayden stared at him for a moment and then started to cry again, obviously trying to stop and furiously wiping his eyes. Mace couldn’t leave him here. Not with how Sally had been plucked from the same place. And he couldn’t take him back to the bandit camp; he wasn’t so stupid that he’d make the same mistake multiple times. He had to get Jayden to safety.

  Oddly, he wanted the boy to be safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  The ritual of visiting and gift giving in Falloweld had turned into a full-out party, likely at the thought that there was a battle sylph out hunting down the bandits who’d been terrorizing them for so long. The inn was filled with townspeople and families all raising their glasses in a cheer, as though there had never been any danger at all to a woman, two boys, and a dog.

  A lot of those glasses dropped when Mace crashed in, slamming the door into the wall as he did, and dropped his natural shape for his human one while he set Jayden down. They gaped at him, at his nudity, and at the filthy boy standing in the circle of his arm.

  “What?” Falon managed.

  Mace pushed Jayden a few steps forward. “Feed him,” he ordered. “He saved your lives. I’ll be back in a few hours. Treat him as anything less than a hero and I’ll destroy this entire stinking inn.”

  Before they could say anything, before they could protest, Mace was out the door again and back in his natural shape, flying toward the bandit camp. He didn’t worry about Eferem misreading or attacking him now; there simply wasn’t enough time to consider any alternative. He was running through his energy faster than normal, thanks to his wounds, and he needed to feed. He also needed to save Sally. This was the kind of emergency his queen would fully understand and he was terrified of not getting back in time.

  He raced straight back, skimming the treetops until he reached the ridgeline and roared up the steepest side. If he was lucky, both Sally and Ruffles would be held where he could easily get to them.

  He wasn’t lucky. They were in the center of the camp, Sally sitting on a crate, with Ruffles lying at her feet. All of the bandits were there, standing around the two females and looking in every direction. Sally seemed unhurt, but her fear was palpable. So was the bravery that spoke to his soul.

  It didn’t take them long to spot Mace’s lightning. Someone shouted, and they were all gawking up at him, closing ranks around their captives. Most of the men were terrified, but at Raven’s order they acted. The bandit captain stood beside Sally, one hand playing with her hair.

  “Get down here!” he shouted. He exuded fury, outrage at having been defied, and as Mace hovered there, the bandit chief’s hand gripped Sally’s hair and yanked her head back, ignoring her cry of pain. “If you don’t want her dead, you’ll get down here!”

  Mace wanted to kill him. Never had he wanted to destroy someone as he did right now, and he raged at Lily’s command. Not even against Jasar’s control had he fought with so much desperation, and the men below him stared up in terror as the blackness of his form turned nearly white with the crashing lightning inside him. His mouth gaped wide, teeth formed of pure energy, and he roared his fury, rearing up. He would disobey. He would disobey this thoughtless command, this order restraining justice. He would kill the man, free Sally, take her in his arms, and make her his master. His love. His soul tie. He screamed, gathering his power . . . and nothing happened.

  Below, Raven grinned, his teeth a sickening nightmare. He laughed, recognizing he was for some reason untouchable.

  Not able to do anything else by his very nature, Mace carefully formed vocal cords for his cloud shape. It wasn’t easy, and his voice came out strange, but he didn’t want to land. Not until he figured out what to do. He couldn’t fight. Instead, he came closer to begging than he’d ever imagined he would. “If you do, you’ll never get me to do what you want.”

  Raven sneered. “How about I just torture her instead? You want her little finger? One of her eyes?” He yanked Sally’s head farther back, leering down at her. “How about I just take her right here?”

  “No!” Sally cried, her courage rising as she tried to push him away. Raven backhanded her, and Mace roared in renewed fury. His hate aura flared out. Raven only grinned and grabbed Sally’s breast, squeezing it until she started to sob.

  “Stop it!” a new voice said.

  Raven turned. From only a few feet away, Travish glared at him, the boy’s fists clenched at his sides so tightly that they were trembling. He had a black eye to match Jayden’s now, and a swollen lip, both apparently rewards for letting Mace escape. He stared at the man who held his mother and lifted his chin. “You don’t have to hurt her.”

  “Really?” Raven almost looked delighted.

  “Travish,” Sally wailed, reaching toward him even though Raven had a painful grip on her hair. “Don’t, he’ll hurt you!”

  “You know her?” Raven demanded, his amusement immediately turning to anger. The other men were eyeing Travish as though he’d suddenly become an enemy.

  The young man swallowed, shooting a glance at Mace before looking directly at Sally. “She’s my mother.”

  “Your mother?” Raven laughed, howling at the thought of it. “Your mother!” His face twisted abruptly with hate again and he yanked Sally onto her feet, his hand still holding her hair. Travish jerked as though it were he being pulled, and Sally shrieked, trying to claw Raven’s hand free behind her head. Ruffles leaped to her feet, barking and whining.

  “You’re sworn to me, you worthless pile of shit!” Raven shouted. “These are the people who mocked you your entire life! Who made you weak! They treated you like a damned servant when you should have been their master! They made you nothing and you defend them?”

  Travish looked torn, staring at Sally, who stared back at him, her eyes wide. “My mother never did,” he whispered.

  “Your mother’s a whore!”

  Mace acted. It was a desperate move, but the brigands were all focused on Travish, at least for the moment. He lunged forward, all his energy focused into a single, scything blade of power that lashed away from him, thin as a leaf. It sliced through Sally’s hair in the inch between her skull and Raven’s hand. She fell forward, free.

  The bandit dove for her, grabbing her shirt instead of her hair. In the next instant, seeing the threat and filled with her own bravery, Ruffles leaped at him, clamping her jaws on his forearm. Raven howled, yanking his belt knife out of its sheath.

  “No!” Sally screamed, rolling over and grabbing his legs, pulling him off balance. He dropped the knife. Several of his men moved into action.

  Mace barreled through those men between him and Sally, half of whom had been going to aid their leader, the other half of whom had been staring. He hit them and rolled, his large semisolid body flattening them to the ground but not killing them. Rolling back upright, he threw himself at Raven, his lightning-filled jaws gaping wide.

  The bandit leader saw him coming and took advantage of the few seconds where Mace had been fighting through his men. His face a soulless study of hate, he punched Ruffles in the eye so hard that the dog yelped, letting go, and he grabbed Sally, ignoring his injured arm and her struggles as he pulled her up and against him, his arm around her throat and a second dagger at her chest. The point pressed lightly to her coat, right above her heart.

  Mace skidded to a halt, roaring with all of his hate and fear. Raven just snarled, unmoved by Mace’s form or his hate. “Move and I kill her,” he promised. Sally’s eyes were huge with terror. The dagger’s point was pushing through the fabric of her coat, and Mace saw her gasp in pain. Slowly, hating Raven more than even his original master, Mace sank to the ground.

  “Good,” Raven snarled. “Now—”

  He stopped speaking, his expression suddenly bemused. He stayed that way for a moment before his arms dropped and he started sliding sideways. Sally stumbled forward with a yelp, her hands raised protectively before herself, and she turned and looked behind her, the same way Mace was staring. Both of them saw
Travish standing behind Raven. His hands were empty, his soul throbbing with a hate that wasn’t any different from that of a battle sylph with a hive to protect. His dagger jutted out of the lifeless Raven’s back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Without Raven, the rest of the bandits were easy to force into retreat. Mace lashed out at them with his hate aura and quickly formed tentacles with which he beat at them. Leaderless, they fled out of the gorge and up the ridge, screaming their way in all directions. He let them go, too tired to give chase, and he drew as much energy from Ruffles as she could spare.

  Sally stood in her son’s arms, crying against his chest while he stared over her head at Mace both shocked and horrified, numb now that his rage was spent. Mace shifted to human form and looked at the pair.

  Travish gaped down at Raven’s body. “I couldn’t let him do that,” he whispered. “Not to my own mother.”

  Mace nodded. He was tired, sore, and actually feeling the cold. He could sense how Travish’s regret for what Raven had done to Sally went to the young man’s very core, though not all of his regrets were so deep. “Why were you letting him do it to anyone else?” he asked bluntly, and felt the young man’s spearing pain. It speared through Mace as well, as he thought of how he’d treated men himself over the years. He’d ignored them or frightened them, and he’d enjoyed their fear. He’d thought Heyou and Ril both mad for loving men. Now he wished he’d listened to them a long time ago and seen what they did. Men mattered as much as women, and both this boy and the one waiting back in Falloweld mattered to him more than any.

  “Let’s go,” he said, not wanting to discuss it any more.

  They arrived at Falloweld with a heralding roar from Mace as he set himself down in the main street. The inn was packed, half the town still there to hear the news. No one was going around giving any gifts now, not recognizing the strength of the gift in their presence. The sound of dozens of conversations faltered as Mace shifted to human form, disgorging his passengers. Sally and Travish stood together at his side, while Ruffles pressed nervously against his pant leg—he’d put his clothes back on before leaving the bandit camp.

  Faces pressed against the windows all around, staring out at them.

  “Oh, no,” Travish gasped, stepping back with fright. “I can’t stay here.”

  Sally reached out and put a hand on his arm. “It’s all right.” There was a calmness to her now, a balance she hadn’t had before, though Mace sensed her nervousness at her family’s imminent reaction.

  “We’re only here to get Jayden,” he said.

  Both of them looked at him. Mace leaned down to take Sally’s hands, well aware of all the people watching through the window and the now-open door. They were coming outside, spreading out in the street to see them, and he said nothing to them, wanting them all outside where they could see. “If you want,” he told her, “you can come to the Valley with me. I have a home there for you, and I want you there. Both of you.”

  While his mother’s eyes filled with tears, Travish’s held on to his doubt. It would be a long time going away. “No one’s going to trust me after what I’ve been.”

  Mace just stared at him. “I’ll have to introduce you to our chancellor. If you think your past sins are bad, you’ll have nightmares at his.”

  There was a commotion at the door to the inn. “Let me through!” Mace heard Jayden yell, just before the boy pushed his way out of the whispering crowd and stopped on the front porch, staring at Mace uncertainly. Mace felt all the boy’s old doubts: that he’d be ignored, that he’d be left behind, that he’d be seen as a duty and nothing else. That Mace had only come for him because he’d been ordered.

  Mace opened his arms. “Come here.”

  Jayden’s eyes widened, and then the fourteen-year-old ran to him.

  Mace held the child and looked at Sally. “Do you want to come with us?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, tears on her cheeks.

  “And you?” he asked Travish.

  For an instant in that bandit camp, he’d felt the fire of a battle sylph in the boy. For that and for Sally, Mace was willing to accept that Travish was his son, just as he was willing to take Jayden as his son as well. Most of the other battlers in the Valley would think he’d gone mad, but Ril and Heyou would understand. If the boy came.

  Travish eyed the townspeople watching them, all of them muttering but standing back for fear of the battler. Mace could feel their anger at seeing the young man whom they’d always considered a bastard and then decreed a traitor. There was no future here for him except the jail or the noose. Deep down he had the soul of a battle sylph, though. In the Valley he’d have a home.

  “I guess I have no choice,” he muttered. But at least he was willing. Mace nodded. What he did in the Valley was up to him, but at least he would have more choices.

  As for Sally, she had the most choices of any of them. He’d have to sit down and explain exactly what a battle-sylph master was and what it meant. He’d introduce her to Lily, and for once in his life he’d make it clear. He loved Lily and he belonged to her, but in Sally he had the chance for more. He could feel the hope of a soul tie in her, the one thing all battlers wanted and so few found, even with female masters. If Lily truly loved him, she’d agree. He knew his Lily. She might laugh at him, but she’d let him go in the end.

  Falon appeared at the doorway of the inn, pushing his way through the crowd and staring down at his sister and nephew. Everyone was outside now, holding their mugs and staring at them. Falon had made very good trade on his sister’s misfortune. “You’re back.”

  “Yes,” Sally said, regarding him.

  He sighed, looking disgruntled, annoyed, and relieved all at once. “You better get in here, then.” He eyed Travish. “I’ll decide what to do about him later.”

  “No,” Mace announced, his voice loud enough to carry over the crowd. “They’re not staying.”

  Falon gaped. “But it’s the Winter Festival. They’re supposed to be with family.”

  “That’s why they’re coming with me,” Mace told him. “I know more about family than you do.”

  “You’re a battle sylph!” the man protested. “This is their home!”

  Mace raised a hand, palm facing outward. Falon gaped at him, going pale. “Move,” Mace told him, and the human bolted.

  All of them moved, running out into the street and snow. Mace was very controlled about his blast, and the explosion that consumed the inn went straight up, taking the roof and everything inside the structure along with it. Sally gasped, her delighted emotions showing what she really thought about what he’d done, while Jayden stared in amazement and Travish started laughing.

  Falon gaped at the destruction of his inn, his face white.

  Mace lowered his hand. Neither the queen nor Lily had forbidden this, though he suspected he’d hear about it soon enough. It was worth it.

  “This was never a home,” he told the man. “Perhaps the next one you build will be.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lily was missing Mace more than she’d thought she would. She’d taken him as her own almost on a whim, and certainly to prevent him from going after the girls in her charge, but she’d grown very fond of him. His needs never faltered, though, and sometimes it had been hard to love him. She’d tried to give him what he needed, just as she took care of the orphans in her charge, but she knew she wasn’t as loving as he deserved. He’d never complained, which was one of the things she loved about him the most.

  This was the longest time he’d ever been away from her, though, and she sat alone in her kitchen by the fire, waiting. The orphans she’d raised were all with their own families now, for the biggest celebration night of the festival, and the two adult girls who still lived here were at the main hall, helping with the town feast. Lily had insisted they go, not wanting anyone with her so long as Mace and Jayden were gone. They’d promised to return later, and she had no doubt the girls would. Both had a str
ong dedication to duty, instilled in them, she hoped, by both herself and Mace.

  She sensed Mace before he arrived, tired and in pain, and heard his voice speak into her mind. I have Jayden, he said. He’s all right.

  Lily sagged with relief for a moment before she pulled herself upright in her chair again.

  There’s more, Mace continued a second later, his mental voice suddenly seeming almost nervous. You said to find a new master if I could . . . I have, if you’ll accept her. She’s a woman I knew before I met you. I’ve brought her and our son. Even if you don’t accept her, I want them to live here in the Valley. I . . . Lily, I love her.

  Lily blinked, absorbing that. She’d had no doubt that Mace would find someone new, simple creature that he was, but she hadn’t quite expected this. For him to say this? That he loved this woman? He’d never told Lily that he loved her, and she’d never thought anything of it. Their bond had always been good enough for her.

  She pushed that thought away for more practical matters and the other thing he’d said. Our son? she thought toward him, not used to mental speech even after all these years.

  We were lovers for one night, he told her. She gave birth. She says she’s been with no one else and that he’s my son. I believe her.

  I see, Lily replied. She’d judge that for herself.

  They arrived a few minutes later, Mace letting the group in through the front door. Lily rose to her feet but stayed by her warm fire, letting them get organized rather than going out and risking a cold draft. She truly felt them more than ever. Given her breathlessness from just standing, she suspected that Mace might have found a new master just in time, though she had serious misgivings about the woman’s claim.