by A. J. Nuest
Caedmon's Curse
The Golden Key Chronicles
AJ Nuest
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Contents
AJ Nuest
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Bonus Material
Chapter One
Love Romance?
About HarperImpulse
Copyright
About the Publisher
AJ Nuest
I am a multi-published, award-winning author who lives in the middle of a cornfield in NW Indiana. My loving husband, two beautiful children and a bevy of spoiled pets have agreed to stay and, in exchange for three rations per day and laundry service, tolerate my lunacy. While I spend most days happily ensconced in crafting romance across a multitude of genres, an underground coup has been percolating. The dogs just informed me the cat is secretly vying for dictatorship.
This book is dedicated to my friends of the Fae Realm,
without whom my life would be a dull, listless existence:
To my fairy floozies Amy, Arial, Mac, Sarah and Vonnie …
May your wings never weary and your hearts always be light.
Chapter One
Rowena sprang to her feet. Someone was coming. And based on the thundering hoof beats and thrashing branches tearing through the forest behind her, whoever it was cared little for masking their approach.
Dammit. All night and late into the next evening she’d ridden as if the devil himself had pursued her. She’d purposely stayed off the roads, traveling the old tracks instead, and even stopped several times to set false trails. Not until Helios approached the western horizon and she’d discovered this small clearing inside a copse of thick evergreens had she happily made camp. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her fatigue was a small price in return for the confidence that she’d finally put enough distance between her and the realm of Austiere. Surrounded on all sides by dense trees, the hidden location ensured the smoke from her fire would remain concealed. No one would be able to get close without providing plenty of warning.
The dull pummel of incoming hooves increased and she gritted her teeth, kicked some dirt over her small well-made fire and rushed for the nearest fir. A flick of her hand and Dart took wing, disappearing into the forest just above where she’d wicketed Belial. Whoever was coming had better have their affairs in order. They were about to be on a first-name basis with the nine.
The bark prickled and dug into her palms as she swung hands to feet up the branches, ascending to mid-tree height before she crouched on a sturdy branch on the balls of her feet.
Exhibiting all the grace of an enraged bull, a hooded rider crashed into her camp. The horse’s dancing halt disrupted her bedroll, flinging dirt all over her plated dinner. Jerk. The intruder had to be male, what with this presumed sense of entitlement, thinking nothing of ruining her perfectly arranged camp and soiling her property. She eased two sliver blades from the sides of her leather pants and fisted the slender handles in her grip.
Hello, stranger. Care to dance?
In a fluid movement which contradicted his initial appearance, the rider leapt off his horse and knelt before her sputtering fire. The sides of his cloak billowed past his shoulders. Thick muscle pulled his leather pants taut around his thighs. And those arms…the black vambraces…the leather cords encircling his biceps.
She slumped. Well, for the sweet love of Helios. Exactly how far did she have to travel to get away from the man?
Prince Caedmon pinched a bit of ash between his thumb and first two fingers, rubbed them together and lifted them to his nose. Rowena squinted past the branches as he rounded the fire and approached her saddlebags. He squatted to rifle through the contents, his back facing her, his hood hiding his profile from view. She scowled. Most likely, his intent was to drag her kicking and screaming back to the castle. But she wasn’t about to sit idly by while he got his grubby mitts all over her supplies.
She sheathed her blades and swung silently to the ground. Motions steady and even, carefully shifting her weight, she reclaimed her knives as she side-stepped twigs and piles of dusty leaves. For all her caution, her concerns were unwarranted. The big ox was so preoccupied with searching her belongings, she could’ve easily stomped all over the place without distracting him.
A soundless bounce on the tips of her boots and she pounced, knees straddling his wide back, crossed blades pressed along the thin skin under his jaw. “I’m officially pissed off,” she hissed in his ear. “And if you plan to see tomorrow, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
The next instant she was flying backward through the air. Her teeth clattered on impact and her blades scattered as she landed on her rump in the dirt. She shook her head to regain her bearings. How in the hell had he dislodged her so fast? And which hurt worse? Her bruised ass or her pride? She quickly scrambled to her feet.
Tendons flexed and every muscle in his arms bulged as Prince Caedmon tore the cloak off his shoulders and chucked the garment aside. A silver chime hummed through the air as he unsheathed his sword from the scabbard at his back and fisted the hilt at his side. Anger smoldered in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes, but if that fierce glare was meant to make her shriek and scamper into the woods, the man and his stubborn male pride had another think coming.
She notched up her chin and met him scowl for scowl. Not for one second would she let him intimidate her. No constructs governed the ways of the forest. Out here, survival was the only decree, and if risking injury was the price for her freedom, she was happy to end this test of wills come what may.
“It’s time you learned a thing or two, my love.”
Ha! Could he be any more condescending? On a click and whirr, her wrist blades snapped home and she hugged her chest, widening her legs into her warrior’s stance. “Too bad Denmar’s not here to save your ass. It’s high time we settle our differences once and for all.”
Leaves scattered as he strode forward, his turbulent approach devoid the elegant fighting prowess he’d exhibited in the Gantlet. A guttural roar bellowed from his chest as he swung his sword high and then lunged. She parried his thrust, wrist blades crossed overhead to arrest the sharp edge of his sword from invading her rib cage.
Penetrating vibrations pulsed down the bones of her arms from the force of his blow and she bowed under his press of her weaker left side. Shit. The man was an oaf but, dammit, he was strong. Her shoulders creaked under his weight. Her thighs trembled from the strain. She whirled to evade the ever-increasing pressure, gain some distance and give her muscles a chance to regroup, but his hand seized her hip and he easily hauled her close. Half-lifting, half-dragging her, he marched forward until her spine slammed the trunk of a tree.
Pinned. In less than two moves he’d overpowered her with sheer size and strength alone. How could she have been so stupid? She’d made a horrible mistake in letting him get so close.
“How soon you forget,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. Determination sparked in his eyes, reinforcing the intensity of his low warning. “We’ve contested before, my love. You favor your left side.”
Without forewarning, he withdrew. The evening air rushed in to cool the same spot on her cheek his breath had warmed only moments before. He aimed the tip of his sword at the ground where their battle had commenced and backed away. “Again.”
He sheathed his sword, spun and crouched near her saddlebags.
She blinked. Wait…what? Her brows slammed down in confusion. “Again,” as if this was all just a game? As if the outcome
of their fight—and her future—was merely his opportunity for a “teaching moment?”
Her shock evaporated and a thousand tiny needles of irritation bristled over her skin. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed up from the tree, but she didn’t resume her previous location. He’d just made a dire mistake. Offering his back to her a second time had sealed his doom.
She sprinted at him full force, leapt and punched his side with the soles of both boots. A grunt blurted from his throat and he collapsed to the ground, continued the roll along his shoulders and landed on his feet. His sword sang free as she whirled and released a barrage of silver throwing stars. Metal slashed air. Discordant clangs ricocheted off the trees. He deflected her halo of lethal barbs and charged.
Her choices were slim. The space too confined. She could re-engage him in hand-to-hand combat or flee for the trees. The idea of running from him made her teeth gnash. She seated two silver spikes in her hands and ducked low, one foot extended, hoping to trip his advance and strike from below.
He switched the angle of his attack and caught the edge of her spikes, forcing her to straighten or relinquish her weapons. Three quick swipes of his sword and her back collided with the bark of a large fir.
A growl of frustration razed the lining of her throat even as he shoved away from her a second time.
“No!” he roared. “Your counter-attack is faulty. Your defense position too high.” He snatched her shoulders and spun her to face the trees. She sputtered and tried to wrestle out of his grip as his booted foot appeared between her legs and nudged her feet farther apart.
“Pay attention!” he shouted, the fingers of one hand momentarily tightening on her upper arm. “Shift your weight to the left and bend your left knee.” His knee pressed the back of her leg and she yielded and assumed the appropriate stance. “Now both arms lowered outside your left thigh.” He guided her arms down and then rounded to stand in front of her, positioning her arms together, wrists crossed. She remained silent, trying to focus on his instructions while a continuous stream of questions burbled like mountain runoff in her mind.
“Elbows unlocked.” He tossed his sword aside and pressed his thumbs into the crooks of her arms until they were slightly bent, slid his hands to her wrists and cocked them at a forty-five degree angle. “If a marauder were to attack thusly,” he reclaimed his sword and lowered the finely honed edge toward her hands, “you have the strength of your right side to either counter,” he guided her hands up and her weight automatically shifted to the right as their blades met and she deflected his sword away, “or use the momentum of his advance to knock him off balance.” He returned her arms to their original positions, but this time when his blade met both of hers, he pressed a hand to the back of her arm and eased her forward until their shoulders connected.
“Now. Again.” He pointed to her original spot and reclaimed his crouch near her saddlebags.
Rowena lowered her hands to her sides. A quite moment passed, filled with the subtle chirping of birdsong, and she snapped her jaw shut. He’d been angry, enraged even. Yet he chose to help? Offer her advice? Why? What could he possibly have to gain by showing her how to strengthen her defenses?
She rolled her shoulders and breathed deep, fighting to gather her thoughts though they remained scattered like the leaves upon the forest floor. Wrist blades retracted in place, she sprinted forward and repeated her earlier maneuver, shoving him to the ground with both feet and releasing a rain of five-pointed stars, but this time when he charged, gleaming sword in hand, she affected the stance he’d taught her and swiftly knocked him askew with a driving blow, her right shoulder ramming his left. Two additional jabs to his off-kilter counter attack and he was trapped, poled by a tree, one of her wrist blades hovering near his jugular.
A full grin split his face. “Excellent. I can see why Denmar regales you as one of his best students. You learn quickly.”
Her panting breaths burned in her lungs, but she remained frozen, mesmerized by the delight glittering in his soulful brown eyes, afraid of whatever trickery he might try next.
He dropped his sword to the ground and lifted both hands in a show of surrender. “I submit, my lady. You’ve trounced me sound and true.”
Trounced him? Hardly. If not for his tutoring, he could have easily had her roped and tied to a horse, started them back to the castle by now.
She slowly lowered her blade from his throat and stepped back, placing one foot behind the next to keep him within sight. His actions made absolutely no sense.
“Why? Why would you this for me?” In the years she’d been living at Castle Austiere, not a day had gone by she hadn’t needed to barter or beg for any small thing. No one had done anything for her without asking for something in return. Money, favors, unsavory deeds…it was the way things were done. Not this…this unselfish show of support.
His jaw clenched to a firm line and she braced to receive his demands. Whatever he wanted, honor dictated she was obligated to pay.
“If you must go, then I would see you go having learned the best defense available.” He shoved away from the tree and that same dark fury he’d earlier displayed creased his brow. “If you must leave me, then my first and only duty is to make certain you can keep yourself safe.”
Traitorous tears stung her eyes and she closed them and spun away from him. His anger was fueled by fear. Fear for her. He longed to keep her out of harm’s way, and the only means by which he could ensure this remained true, was for him to teach her himself.
No. That was a lie. He wanted to control her. Just like everyone else.
She strode forward, arms locked, and shoved his shoulders hard with both palms. “Liar!” she shouted and shoved him again. “You’re trying to trick me. You said yourself you would never let me leave the castle grounds.”
He stumbled back a step, but didn’t raise his sword. His arms remained open at his sides, inviting whatever injury she might choose to inflict. “Dangerous creatures inhabit this realm which would do you harm, my lady. Seviere’s men would capture and rape you without a single thought to do otherwise. Certainly I would rest easier with you by my side. Yet I’ve suffered the abhorrence of a wrongful cage. What measure of man would I be if I insisted the same of you?”
She raised the back of her hand to her lips to stifle a sob. No, no. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that. He was freely offering his blessing, providing everything she’d fought for without a thought to his own needs. He’d followed her to prove the truth of his convictions with his deeds.
Hands balled into fists, she marched forward and pummeled his chest, hitting him again and again, desperate to beat the truth from his lips. “Why?” she railed. “Tell me why you would do this!”
The strength of his arms enveloped her, cradling her against the broad width of his chest. “How could I not,” he whispered, “when I love you as I do?”
Her pounding slowed as she dissolved into a fit of wracking sobs. Others cared for her. She knew this to be true. But no one…no one had ever shown her the level of devotion this man displayed with a single swipe of his sword.
All doubts fled and, with her next shuddering breath, the truth of his promise resonated down to the depths of her soul. He did love her. He was willing to let her go to prove it.
Everything she’d previously believed about him was wrong. So, so damn wrong.
She encircled his waist and clung to him as her tears slowly ebbed. He understood. Someone else finally, finally understood. He’d been caged, had lived the torment of another controlling his fate. He knew the frustration of what it meant to have no say.
His embrace tightened across her shoulders, keeping her close. One large hand cupped the back of her head and she buried her face in the sweet, smooth skin of his neck.
When was the last time someone had held her so gently? A fresh swell of tears doused her cheeks. He had, two nights ago on the verandah, when he’d said his love for her couldn’t be measured in the mere passing of days.<
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The evening light faded, the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair and, as he rocked her from side to side, the bitter resentment gripping her heart eased and floated skyward, disappearing over the horizon with the glowing crest of the setting sun.
Chapter Two
If she had to guess, she would’ve said neither of them were certain what came next. Or maybe the disquiet lingering in the air emanated only from her.
Rowena tossed some dry twigs onto the fire and poked around with a stick until the smoldering embers ignited. A few well-placed logs and the flames quickly grew. The wood sizzled and snapped. Fireflies of ash spiraled into the air.
Flipping her trembling hands before the heat, she stood. Her profound display of vulnerability had left her drained, her skin a bit numb. She’d not exposed herself to such a degree since that horrible day Caedmon had been dragged from her arms and she’d been left standing alone in his bedchamber.
In the ensuing two years, she’d expounded vast amounts of energy shoring up her defenses, shutting out the hurt. Sparring with Caedmon this afternoon had awakened something in her. Something…unfamiliar. He’d eased back the rusty hinges of her heart and, in the process, a tremulous unease had wormed its way in to inhabit the empty space.
A quiet hush filtered in from the surrounding forest, the fragile rays of the setting sun bathing their small camp within the wistful dalliance of a dream. The jingle of silver broke the muted silence as Caedmon unloaded his supplies from his horse. With his back facing her, it was hard to determine what he was thinking.