by Brenna Lyons
“If I feel I’m losing my control, you will take my life before I can do her more damage. After that, you will raise my son for me and protect my wife. First night him and give him my seal at his first kill, so that he will be the new Lord KreuzStütze.” He said it all calmly, too calmly — as if he already accepted that the fate awaited him.
“That baby—”
“Is mine, and anyone who suggests otherwise will face me at my worst. This isn’t simply about honor and duty and promises. I can give her no less than my best. If I die to do that, I die. No one will ever know any truth but the one I will weave for us. Do you understand?”
Gawen nodded. “You will play this to the end, even if it kills you to do it.”
“That is the way it is,” Pauwel agreed as he pushed to his feet and headed back inside.
Gawen watched him go and considered how unfair the situation was. Pauwel was one of their finest. He waited patiently for his woman, as all the first cursed who had not gone beast had done. Still, he could yet be lost to them. Gawen barely noted Riberta entering the training area as he considered what he could do to ease Pauwel’s time.
* * * *
Pauwel raised his head as the noise level across the room jumped considerably. Wil was arguing heatedly with Riberta, the younger of his two sisters. Riberta was a year or two older than Regana, but she still acted the spoiled child. The lithe girl flipped her bright blond hair as she gestured in annoyance at Wil. Pauwel sighed.
Riberta had been impossible to live with, since the warriors made their choices. When they numbered thirteen, she had been virtually guaranteed to be some warrior’s chosen if for nothing else, then for her looks. She felt she should have been the lady of a house lord, and the beasts’ departure had denied her of her prize. Being a chosen had many advantages. The women would not only be the lady of a house and have the protection of their husbands, but many believed the rumors that the flutch of the warriors made them insatiable and talented lovers. Some women, like Riberta, were a little too eager on that point to be appealing for long. In the end, she was passed over by the seven young lords left to choose.
Wil met his eyes, and Pauwel could feel the malevolence of the older man washing over him and heating his blood for a fight. The larger man stalked across the room to where Pauwel sat with his back against the wall, feigning indifference. Whatever Riberta was up to was sure to be a malicious annoyance.
The angry warrior stopped a few arms’ lengths away and scowled down at him.
Pauwel raised an eyebrow as he glanced around Wil at the four other warriors crowded behind him. He smiled tightly. “You need to speak to me?” he asked in a controlled voice.
“I’ve just had disturbing news, Pauwel Lord KreuzStütze.”
“And it concerns me in what way?”
“I’ve just been told that your chosen mate already carries your child.”
“You find a baby threatening? Funny, I find it anything but threatening. Exciting, wonderful, nerve-wracking at times, but never threatening or disturbing.” His smile was genuine that time.
“You admit it?” Wil asked in disbelief.
“I’d be a fool to deny that Regana carries a child. She will show soon enough,” he answered honestly.
“You took her before the battle, didn’t you?” Olbrecht demanded.
Pauwel sucked in his breath audibly. It was time for the first of many outright lies, and he steeled his nerves for it. “Of course. How else could I be so certain of the fact?” he replied evenly.
“Why have you done this?” Cunczel roared, his black eyes hard and hateful.
“I had a choice. Either I broke my vow to wait and took my chosen mate or I went mad from the waiting. That option not only meant death but also that we would be a man shorter in battle. Have you ever reached Ende Spiel? The insanity is not just a story. You print or you die. It is not an exaggeration.” Pauwel realized how close to the edge he was already and grimaced internally at the truth of his argument.
“A man who cannot control himself is no better than a beast,” Ger submitted. “You broke our laws.”
“Yes, I did. My life was forfeit to Gawen, if he chose. There are no secrets between us about this matter. I faced his judgment.”
“And I chose to take a single blow and let him live,” Gawen thundered. “It is not within any of your rights to question my judgment in this matter.” He stepped forward to stand next to Pauwel. “The subject is closed.”
“It is not,” Wil decided. “He not only wronged you and your house. He broke the rules of training. That is an offense against our honor and trust.”
“And I am master trainer,” Gawen interjected. “The rule was to maximize thirst for battle. Did you slay as many as Pauwel? Ger, how many did he save you from? Have you killed an elder?”
Pauwel swallowed a sour lump. Today was the start of his lies, but Gawen was well versed in the art.
“The point?” Ditrich asked evenly.
“Pauwel broke the rule, but his reasoning was sound. It was more advantageous to have him in top form but printed than dead by our blades and unable to fight. In point of fact, his drive to protect his chosen most likely made him a more dedicated fighter than he would have been otherwise.”
“So, you will do nothing?” Cunczel shot back.
“I didn’t intend on it. No. I have taken my blow from his hide.”
“What of the others he’s injured?” Wil demanded.
“What others?” Pauwel asked in confusion. “How does this injure any of you? I did my duty. I continue to do my duty. The battle is over. You have your chosen mates. Who have I injured?”
“By choosing before the battle, you did not give proper consideration to the matter. You took what was readily available,” Wil spat.
Pauwel shot to his feet at the implied insult to Regana.
Gawen put out a hand to stop him bodily. His eyes warned Pauwel to bite back the urge to end such talk physically.
The younger man glared at Wil over the master trainer’s shoulder. “If I wanted what was readily available, Riberta was busy throwing herself at any warrior who crossed her path, hoping for her title.”
The larger man went crimson in fury.
“Think I’m lying? Ask them. Perhaps, one of our damned brethren would have chosen her had they not chosen the stone. After all,” he smiled a vicious smile, “they were obviously less picky in their choices.”
Riberta launched toward him with her hands out as if to wound him physically.
Wil pushed her aside. “Go away, woman,” he ordered. “You are of my house, and it is my place to judge him for his lies.”
Ditrich strode to place his hand on Pauwel’s shoulder. He met the master trainer’s eyes before turning back to Wil. “Pauwel may have broken our rules, but he is not lying about Riberta’s actions. She tried more than once to entice me to her bed, while we were training. I might have fallen to her had I not already observed her working her whiles on both Pauwel and Dado. I cannot say whether any man fell to her, but I know that the three of us rebuffed her.”
“A woman rebuffed,” Gawen scowled at her, “is hardly a proper judge of her former prey and his chosen.”
Wil faced her. “Is it true?” he asked.
She raised her chin in challenge. “I have bedded no man,” she assured him.
“You tried to sway the men to you so one would choose you?” he demanded.
She looked around uncertainly. “I only made myself known to them,” she protested. “There was no harm in that.”
“You baited us,” Ditrich countered. “You knew we were skirting the edges of madness and you played on that fact, trying to make one of us print on you.”
“What did Regana do?” Riberta fumed. “She did the same, and you accept her while you speak against me. Why? Because she was successful, and I was not?”
Pauwel felt his blood boil in rage for Regana. “She threw herself at no one. I pursued her, and I was judged for it. Do not th
ink to drag my chosen into the mud with you,” he warned.
“Regana watched the training as often as she could. She put herself beneath the men’s noses. She spent more time tempting them than I did,” she decided.
“Wil, you know the truth of Regana’s presence within these walls. If you will not silence this woman’s lies, I will,” Pauwel growled at him. In fact, he was barely managing to restrain himself as it was.
Wil apparently recognized it. He crossed to Riberta and grabbed her by the upper arm, half-dragging her to the doorway. “Home,” he ordered her. “You’ve done enough damage to Maher for a lifetime. We will discuss this matter when I return home.”
She started to speak, and he propelled her bodily through the doorway.
Wil watched until she was halfway across the open area before he returned to the group of men. “The truth,” he demanded. “How many of you did she approach?”
Pauwel nodded. “Ditrich spoke the truth. She pursued me, and I saw her approach him.”
Ditrich nodded his agreement.
Gawen shook his head. “She didn’t attempt it with me,” he asserted.
Cunczel and Olbrecht shook their heads in denial of involvement with the affair. Ger darkened and looked away.
“Ger?” Gawen prodded.
The young man glanced at Wil nervously. “Riberta approached me. She all but undressed for me,” he noted miserably. “Her hands—” Ger shook his head.
“How far did it go?” Pauwel asked.
“I kissed her before I came to my senses. I am at your mercy, Wil. It should not have gone so far. I know that, and had I been of sounder mind, it never would have.”
Wil darkened and nodded curtly. “She baited you, Ger. She’ll pay for it.” He flicked a glance at Pauwel. “Believe me, she will pay for it.”
“And my punishment?” Ger asked proudly, willing to accept the blow he knew he was due.
“You’ve shown enough honor to admit what she undoubtedly will not. You knew that she would not and still admitted it to me and accepted your censure. I think you’ve earned my gratitude for that.”
“Thank you, Wil.”
“Don’t thank me. Suffering my sister seems to be akin to a plague.”
Gawen nodded. “Knowing what we now do of Riberta’s motivation, is there any more concern about Pauwel’s wife and child?”
One by one, the warriors agreed that the issue was closed.
Pauwel sighed his relief. “Now, my only question is this,” he decided. “What rumors are about that drove Riberta to this?”
“None that I know of,” Wil assured him. “I will attempt to control my sister so that she does not create them herself out of spite.”
“Then how could she know about Regana?” he asked in confusion.
“She said she stopped by to visit the new bride and found her abed and ill.”
Pauwel groaned and looked to Gawen miserably.
“Go to her,” he replied to the unspoken plea. “I’m sure she’s fine, but go see for yourself.”
Pauwel nodded and took off for his home at a run.
* * * *
“No broth, please,” Regana begged, swallowing down another wave of nausea.
Kethe nodded and retreated with the offending bowl.
Regana closed her eyes and curled to the edge of the bed. She knew it was the baby making her sick, but it had never made her this ill before. It had never been difficult to hide the slight queasiness from Gawen. He was gone from sunup to sunset most days, after all.
She heard voices in the main room and prayed that it wasn’t more visitors. Riberta of Maher had been more than enough aggravation for a decade. Her fake concern and feminine posturing left Regana cold. In fact, the worst of the nausea had only struck after her visit. Regana had never liked Riberta. She hated her now.
The voices in the main room rose sharply. “You should have sent for me,” Pauwel asserted.
“It is only the baby troubling her, Pauwel. She asked me not to interrupt you for so trivial a thing.”
“She’s been bedridden all day. That is not trivial,” he countered.
“Yes, she has. Only your son could cause so much trouble,” Kethe teased.
Pauwel grumbled loudly as he made his way to the bedchamber.
Regana opened her eyes, as he stopped in the doorway. He rested his fist on the wall and leaned his weight against it smoothly. His jaw tightened slightly as he looked at her.
“I would have come, Regana. I did come as soon as I heard.” His voice was soft, and his eyes were the disconcerting liquid warmth again.
“There’s nothing you can do,” she countered.
“The hell there’s not.” Pauwel pushed off the wall and crossed to the bed.
Regana blinked her eyes as she watched him. He didn’t seem to walk. Rather, he glided toward her. He was — beautiful, for lack of a better word. He pulled the cloth from the bowl of cool water and placed it on her neck. Pauwel crossed to the other side of the bed and stripped off his boots and tunic. He dropped his belt to the floor and settled on the bed behind her. Regana startled as he ran his hands up her back.
“Relax,” he crooned. “Let me help you.”
She nodded and sank into the sensation of his hands. He rubbed at chosen spots on her body: her wrists, her ear and jawline, her hands and feet. Regana groaned as the nausea faded somewhat.
“Better?” he asked.
“Mmmm. What are you doing? How does this work?” she asked from behind closed eyes.
“I’m rubbing healing points,” Pauwel explained. He moved his hands to her back. “You’re tense from the stress,” he noted. “Once you feel better, we’ll get some food in you.”
“Tired,” she managed.
Pauwel wet the cloth again and started bathing her face, neck and chest in gentle strokes that made her want to sleep all the more. Part of her mind argued that she should be self-conscious about his intimate handling of her, but Regana couldn’t summon the drive to think such a thing when it all felt so wonderfully soothing.
“Being so sick is draining,” Pauwel breathed close to her cheek as he wet the cloth again.
Regana felt consciousness slipping away. His hands returned to her back and caressed away more of the tension in her muscles.
“Sleeping?” he asked.
She tried to answer but her mind and body seemed disconnected from each other.
“Good,” he crooned. “You’ll feel better when you wake.”
Regana vaguely noticed when Pauwel dropped his weight fully behind her, stretching out on the bed with her. He nestled to her back, wrapping his arm over her and settling his hand over her baby. He caressed the patch of her womb as he kissed her shoulder gently.
Tenderness. Her mind supplied the term for her. Pauwel was definitely a very different man than she was accustomed to.
Chapter Eight
Regana didn’t come to watch him train the next day — the next three days. Every morning and evening, Pauwel would work his magic. Most likely because of it, she could keep food down if she was cautious with her actions and rested often. A tea from Emecin helped when things were at their worst during the day, so she would not resort to calling Pauwel from training for her.
On the fourth morning, Regana woke feeling much better than she had since long before her hasty marriage. She smiled at Pauwel as he woke.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Hungry,” she admitted, “and tired of bed. I want to accompany you to training today.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I doubt I’m completely through with being sick. I won’t waste a good day.”
Pauwel smiled widely and planted a kiss on her cheek. “If you get ill, tell me immediately. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Get dressed then.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but she could tell he was acting a scene for her benefit. Pauwel really was a playful man when you got to know him.
She planted an impetuous kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Pauwel.” Regana stilled as the longing in his eyes struck her. She bit her lower lip lightly for a moment before leaning to meet his lips.
Pauwel groaned as he ran his hands through her hair and parted her lips gently to deepen the kiss. As his tongue swirled within her, Regana felt an explosive need building in her thighs and washing upward.
As if sensing that need, Pauwel pulled her to his chest and turned gingerly to place himself over her. He ran his lips down her neck and paused at the neckline of her shift. He sighed as he ran a hand underneath to slide it off her shoulder. His lips followed the motion until they rested on the soft flesh at the top of her breast.
He met her eyes briefly, as if seeking her approval, then sank his mouth to the sensitive spot he had discovered below the edge of the shift. Pauwel freed the breast from it smoothly and drew his tongue in slow circles over her nipple. Regana stifled a cry, as a shock wave of pleasure sliced through her. Pauwel sucked in at the nipple gently, and she arched to him, trying to still the gasping breaths that wracked her while a slick heat pooled at the center of her, aching for his attention.
The knock on the door startled them both.
Pauwel’s head came up. “What is it?” he growled.
“Gawen is here,” Kethe informed him.
He cursed solidly. “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he decided. Pauwel looked at Regana miserably, running his fingers over the nipple he was forced to abandon. “Promise me we’ll come back here later,” he pleaded.
“If the rest of your teaching is as pleasurable…”
“What?” he asked with a hungry look.
She blushed. “Never you mind. Yes, we can come back here. You have my word.”
Pauwel nodded and started to dress. Regana did likewise, determined not to be left behind. They launched into the main room together, Pauwel chuckling as she all but tripped out on the end of his arm.
Gawen looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you were ill,” he teased.
Regana leaned to kiss his cheek. “I’m feeling much better today, thanks to Pauwel. I’m going to training.”