Lionheart

by Thea Harrison

  He raised one eyebrow at her interruption, but now was not the time to get sidetracked into another argument. “…I said if, Kathryn. Then I might theoretically be able to go into battle, but I would still have no army to march against them, so this conflict can’t be won by physical means. Are you with me?”

  She scowled at him, but said, “Fine. Yes, I am.”

  “We have only one thing in our favor that Isabeau can’t know.”

  “What’s that?”

  His teeth felt a little too sharp as his smile widened. “If she has heard anything about my condition, she must believe I’m in a coma, but I’m not. I’m alive, and I’m awake. Arkadian army notwithstanding, I don’t believe she would invade if she thought otherwise. She wouldn’t dare.”

  Launching from her chair, she headed around the table and stalked toward him. She said, “You already have a plan.”

  “Oh, no.” He shook head. “I don’t have anything nearly as put together, optimistic, or functional as a plan. But I do know what I’m going to do next.”

  “Which is?”

  As she came to stand in front of him, he rubbed her arms. “Something long overdue—I’m going to go talk to my puck.”

  * * *

  After thoroughly kissing Kathryn, he made his way out of the palace, and as he heard people nearby he cloaked his presence, so they couldn’t distract him from his mission.

  Outside the city, he walked along a very old, overgrown path. At one point it seemed to run right over the edge of a cliff. Only when one stood at the very edge of land was it possible to see a series of narrow protrusions—by no means could anyone have called it a path—that might allow someone with the grace, nerves, and balance of a mountain goat to climb down to the sea-drenched rocks below.

  Oberon had climbed down the cliff with some difficulty before. This time it was easier, now that he had his cat form to assist him. When he had very nearly reached where the sea crashed and foamed against the rocks, what had appeared to be a dark fissure in the side of the cliff became the narrow opening of a damp, brine-scented cave.

  He made his way inside. It grew dark, then light again as the fissure delved deep into the land and widened after some distance. The morning sun slanted through dense, tangled vegetation overhead to light the narrow, rocky area below. Mosses, lichen, and stray tufts of grass grew along the sides of the fissure, and a thin trickle of fresh water ran along the floor.

  It was a very private place. The only sounds were the distant wind, the echo of surf, the stream’s quiet trickle, and the occasional birdcall. To the best of Oberon’s knowledge, he and Robin were the only two individuals who knew it existed.

  Up ahead, a narrow figure in a coat and blue scarf crouched beside the stream. Oberon felt a tingle of the puck’s wild magic. As Oberon picked his way across the uneven ground, Robin looked over his shoulder. For a moment he looked as feral and dangerous as Oberon had ever seen.

  Then with a blink, his tense posture softened, and he slipped something into his pocket.

  Unhurriedly, Oberon finished the journey and sat on the flat surface of the rock beside him. Looking around, he remarked, “It’s been quite some time since you and I have been here together.”

  “That it has,” Robin agreed. His voice was hushed. “Too long.”

  “I agree.” He knew how strong those thin shoulders were, but now there was a distinct fragility in the way Robin held himself that made his chest ache. Carefully he flattened one hand on Robin’s back. “I should have made a point to talk to you before now. I apologize.”

  “You were busy fighting for your life.” Robin’s gaze cut to his, then skittered away. “And before the surgery, you weren’t very nice about it.”

  He chuckled with a distinct lack of humor. “No, I wasn’t, was I? That needle—it was making me grow numb and cold as it killed me. I could remember having emotions, but I didn’t feel them.”

  Robin looked at him again. “You’re different now, warmer. You’re like him again. Your old self.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Anyway, I’m sorry I was such an ass when you arrived. I’m glad Kathryn was there to step between us, but mostly I just wish I could take it back. Will you forgive me?”

  Robin gave him a quick smile and leaned toward him, not quite enough to come in contact with his body, but enough to let him know there were no hard feelings. “There’s nothing to forgive, sire.”

  Oberon let silence fall. As they sat together, he listened to the calming trickle of water and the distinct caw caw caw of a crow flying overhead. Then, very quietly, he said, “While I don’t know any details, I heard she hurt you.”

  Robin made no reply. He looked down at his long, thin fingers, rubbing them together as if they ached.

  The puck was no child. He was as ancient as Oberon, if not more. But sometimes even the oldest and wildest of creatures still needed to be touched and held.

  Moving as gently as he knew how, Oberon gathered Robin into his arms. As he did, a hoarse keening sound broke out of Robin. It was the sound of an animal that had been injured beyond its endurance or understanding.

  He pulled the puck onto his lap and held him as he sobbed uncontrollably. “If I could take that from you—if I could take it instead of you, I would. I don’t want you to ever hurt like that again, and I will do everything in my power to see that you get to live wild and free again, the way you are meant to be.”

  “The cage is still around me!” Robin wailed. “No matter what I do, it surrounds me wherever I go. I cannot bear it!”

  He wanted to savage something. The wilder creatures of Lyonesse were some of the things he loved the most.

  Holding Robin tighter, he said softly, “It won’t always be that way. I swear on my life it won’t. We can get help for you if you will only trust me enough to explore the options.” Kathryn was familiar with advances in modern medicines. He felt certain she would be able to recommend something. “Can you hang on a while longer? It must have taken incredible strength, but you’ve gone this far—go with me a little farther, and I’ll see that you get home. Maybe you’re like I was. Maybe you can’t feel it yet, but can you remember what home feels like?”

  The silence stretched on for too long. Then Robin gave a tentative nod.

  He felt his own eyes grow wet, and he kissed the puck’s forehead. “Good job. If you ever feel that memory slipping away, I want you to find me, and I’ll remind you of it. All right?”

  Robin nodded again. His body felt light and boneless against Oberon’s, as if his magic was almost spent.

  Oberon could not allow that. Gathering his own Power, he poured it into the puck. It was not quite a healing spell but more like a transference of energy. He had to give quite a bit before he sensed Robin couldn’t absorb any more.

  When he was done, he told Robin, “I’m so proud of you for surviving everything. I’m proud of how hard you fought…”

  “I made so many mistakes,” Robin muttered.

  He continued without missing a beat. “And I’m proud of all the mistakes you’ve made because you cared enough to try. You are important to me, and I value you now more than ever. If you feel like you can’t do more, I will understand and support you. I want you to know it is all right, Robin, and I will love you just the same.” He took a deep breath. “But if you can do a bit more, I need your help.”

  “Aye.” Robin sighed. “I expected there would be more to do. How many troops do you need me to transport?”

  “There won’t be any troops,” Oberon said.

  The puck pushed out of his lap to whirl and crouch at his knees, staring up at him wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

  Oberon told him what he had said to Kathryn. “We can’t win in a physical battle against the army Isabeau has brought with her, so we will have to win with a magical one. Robin, the only person I want you to transport is me. Will you carry me to Isabeau and her army, so we can drive them out of Lyonesse if we possibly can?”

  A smile broke over R
obin’s narrow face, as bright and keen as his earlier pain had been black and bleak. Oberon recognized the expression. It was the look of a hungry predator who had been forced to wait for far too long to taste his prey.

  “It has always been my highest honor to carry you,” Robin said, “I will always take you wherever you need to go.”

  “Excellent,” he said fiercely. “We’re not going to make an announcement. That would open the door for people to argue and create delays.” He paused, thinking. “I do have to tell Kathryn, but other than that, we’re simply going to leave. Meet me in the palace gardens in an hour. And for the gods’ sake, eat something before you get there. You’re nothing but skin and bones, and you’ve got a long road ahead.”

  “Aye, sir,” Robin said with a vicious, anticipatory smile. “That I do.”

  Oberon clapped him on the shoulder and stood. As he made his way out of the cave, he started thinking about how to have an extremely difficult talk with Kathryn.

  He knew in his bones she was going to resist everything he had to say—and he wouldn’t blame her, especially after what they’d just committed to. If she ever tried to come to him with this kind of plan, he would lose control.

  It was only when he was almost back to the palace that he realized he had forgotten to ask Robin about Morgan’s thrice-damned needle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sounds of conversation and cutlery against dishes came from the dining hall as Kathryn made her way to the kitchen.

  She thought to grab something to eat quietly in the rooms she had appropriated for herself, but once in the kitchen, she realized it had become a major hub of activity. It was filled with the roar of heat, the scent of cooking food, and a crew of busy people working on a variety of tasks. She looked around for Brielle but didn’t see her.

  “Dr. Shaw!” Isla rushed up, beaming.

  “How are you doing, Isla?” She took the other woman’s outstretched hands for a brief squeeze.

  “Very well, and it’s all because of you. I have some aches, but they’re easy to manage now that I know they aren’t an injury that would get worse if I ignored it. Thank you for everything you did.”

  “You are quite welcome.” She backed out of the way as a male pushed by carrying a large tray of filled dishes. “I just came to grab a quick bite of something—I don’t mean to get in the way.”

  Isla wiped her hands on a cloth. “Go find a seat in the dining hall. I’ll bring you a nice hot plate of food.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind….”

  The other woman snorted. “It’s the least I can do! Go on with you now.”

  “Thank you.” With an inward shrug, she went with the change in plan and walked into the dining hall.

  As soon as she stepped inside, Brielle and Owen, who were sitting together and talking over empty plates, saw her. Immediately they stood. At first she thought they meant to walk over or to make some other welcoming gesture.

  Instead, they began to clap. Kathryn watched a wave wash over the hall as other people turned, noticed what was happening, and stood to join in with their own applause.

  Well, goodness. That wasn’t awkward or embarrassing at all. Stopping in her tracks, she felt an uncharacteristic blush heat her face.

  Brielle hurried over. “Your grace, if you would be so kind, would you care to sit with Owen and me?”

  Your grace? Word had begun to spread of her and Oberon’s decision. That wasn’t awkward either, was it?

  “Thank you,” Kathryn told her. “That would be delightful. Only, please stop clapping at me.”

  “We are all so grateful for what you’ve accomplished,” Brielle told her. “You saved his majesty’s life. We owe you everything.” She lowered her voice. “And I went with Owen into that cave. It’s cleaned up now, but we saw what was down there. You must allow us our excess of sentimentality on this subject.”

  She exhaled a quiet laugh. “Put like that, I suppose I’ll survive.”

  “Do you need breakfast?”

  “Isla’s bringing me something.”

  “Very good.”

  Sitting with Owen and Brielle, she visited with them as if imminent doom wasn’t hanging over all their heads. Isla brought her a cup of hot tea, a bowl of porridge, and a plate with cheese and dried fruit.

  She would have much preferred meat or fish, but what with the impending food crisis, she wasn’t sure she would be getting any without hunting for it herself. By far, most of a peregrine falcon’s prey was made up of other birds, but she could also eat other small prey like reptiles and mice.

  She could hunt rabbit and squirrel, but they were a little large for her and weren’t her preferred prey, and none of those would go very far to helping stretch the kitchen’s resources. The most powerful way she could help was by buying food to transport in… and that would take precious time they didn’t have. Stifling an inward sigh, she thanked the other woman and dug in.

  Soon Owen and Brielle left to resume their work, and she enjoyed a few moments of solitude while she drank her tea.

  Then Rowan slid onto the bench opposite her, leaned one elbow on the table, put his chin in his hand, and smiled at her. As immune as she was to his charms, getting hit point-blank with those wicked eyes and that smile was quite an experience.

  “Tell me,” he said, “what’s it like to fall in love so quickly?”

  She shook her head. “That’s a common misconception about Wyr mating. We don’t have to fall in love to mate, and we can fall in love without mating. They are two separate things—although when we’re very lucky, we can sometimes get the complete package. Not every Wyr who mates gets that.”

  He frowned. “All right…. What is it like to mate so quickly?”

  She shrugged, at a loss. After a moment of searching for the right words, she replied, “It’s meeting a stranger and then getting shocked by how quickly you can grow to need someone you barely know and don’t know if you can trust. Oberon and I are discovering that we need each other in our lives. We need each other sexually. It’s a driving, overwhelming force that is possessive, intensely uncomfortable, irrational, and quite often dangerous.”

  Her frank reply had shocked him, she saw, as his eyes widened. Quietly, he asked, “Should we be worried about him?”

  She had to pause again as she considered how to answer that. “You should adjust your expectations of him,” she said finally. “At some point I will become more important to him than Lyonesse. He may hate it, and he may struggle against it, and it may poison him with resentment toward me if we’re not careful—but if we don’t change our minds and break things off, it’s still going to happen.”

  In that moment, even though Rowan’s expression never flickered, a sudden flash of intuition told her she was in danger. She knew that behind his charming, handsome façade, he was weighing the potential advantages to killing her.

  She could see the reasoning perfectly. The opportunity to mate was a rare, precious thing, and it would be the cruelest thing he could ever do to Oberon, but from his point of view it might possibly be the best thing he could do for Lyonesse.

  Killing her would also destroy a centuries-long relationship that must matter to him very much, and she had no doubt it would cost him his life.

  She admired that. It took a special kind of dedication to his country to face all that unflinchingly. Rowan had a lot more going for him than a pair of sinful rock-star eyes.

  Pushing her empty teacup to one side, she leaned her elbows on the table. Thankfully, she said telepathically, I have no intention of doing anything that would poison my relationship with my new mate. Mates are unbelievable treasures to the Wyr. Not everyone gets the chance to have such a blessing—which is why I’ve chosen to give up a full, enjoyable life in New York to stay here and why I’m risking my own life to do so, because you guys are in really bad shape right now. Luckily for you, I have a lot of money and some useful skills to bring to the table.

  Slowly he replied, You
have courage too, I’ll give you that. He gave her a sudden grin. Have you and Dragos really gone head-to-head?

  With that, she knew the danger had passed. Throwing up her hands, she exclaimed out loud, “YES! He makes me crazy!”

  Rowan’s face creased with vivid amusement.

  In that moment, she sensed Oberon striding into the hall and turned to look for him. He didn’t bother trying to thread his way toward her. Instead, he held up a hand. “Kathryn, I need a word with you.”

  “Of course.” She double-tapped the table in front of Rowan as she stood. “Good talk.”

  “Catch you later.” He gave her a warm smile.

  In the ninety or so seconds it took her to cross the hall, five people approached Oberon. She watched as he dealt with each of them patiently, and it was so unlike the cold asshole she had met she had to smile to herself.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said as she joined him. He curled a hand under her elbow and told the others, “You must excuse us now. Talk to Owen or Annwyn if you need anything.”

  Turning, he strode rapidly down the halls. His stride was much longer than hers, so she had to trot to keep up. She didn’t mind—it got them to a private space quicker.

  He took her outside and along a garden path to a good-sized clearing, out of sight from any of the palace windows. Then he turned to face her. His face was set.

  Uh-oh, she thought. She braced herself.

  “I want your word that you will keep this confidential until it doesn’t matter anymore,” he said.

  “Ouch,” she muttered with a wince. “But I deserve that. You have my word.”

  He relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve made a decision about what to do, haven’t you?” Even as she said it, she realized she didn’t know how to brace herself for what came next. Nothing short of drastic measures was going to turn the tide of that invading army.

  “I have. Robin and I will be leaving in a few minutes.” He took a breath. “We’re going by ourselves. I plan on departing without talking to any of the others, but I wouldn’t do that to you. I had to tell you.”