Rise

by Andrea Cremer

But before she could, Barrow pulled back and, instead of holding her, knelt beside her.

  Startled, Ember scooted up to rest on her elbows. Not sure if she should worry or just shout at him, Ember did neither, because Barrow spewed out such an array of curses that she almost blushed.

  “Barrow?” Ember rolled onto her side, watching him.

  “By all that lives on earth and in heaven,” he said roughly. “There is nothing I want so much as you.”

  She reached for him, and Barrow pulled her into his arms, but when Ember tried to kiss him, he turned his face from her.

  “This isn’t the time for us, Ember,” he told her. “Not here.”

  Ember laughed. “Do you honestly believe I’m still attached to the thought of making love only in a feather bed? I’m not a spoiled noblewoman, Barrow. You know that.”

  “That’s not it,” Barrow said. “I would make love to you here, in a bed, in a river. No place would thwart my desire for you.”

  “Good.” Ember moved to kiss him again. This time his lips lingered against hers, but not for long.

  “The only thing that could stop me is putting you at risk.” Barrow held her slightly apart, his hands strong on her shoulders.

  “What risk?” Ember frowned, her body thrumming from his touch and her frustration growing from being kept at bay.

  “That you could conceive,” Barrow said quietly.

  Silence filled the small space between them. For a time, Ember could hear only the rapid beating of her heart.

  Finally Barrow said, “To father your child would be a great honor, Ember. But this is a dangerous time. If you were to become pregnant, you might fall ill as some women do. And you must be strong now, ready to fight.”

  “I know,” Ember answered. She couldn’t imagine carrying a child in her belly. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

  When Barrow’s fingers lightly touched her cheek, she covered his hand with hers.

  “Does that mean… I can’t be with you?” Ember asked, not sure she had the will to keep her distance from him.

  “No,” Barrow said quickly, with a forced laugh. “Merciful God, no.”

  “But—”

  Barrow laughed again, pulling her against him. “You don’t remember?”

  “Remember what?”

  “You asked me once if members of the Guard ever took lovers.”

  Heat rushed into Ember’s cheeks as she recalled the conversation, the confusion she’d felt that day, and how much had changed since.

  Barrow continued, “I told you to seek advice from Sorcha about getting herbs that would allow you to make your choices without risk of a child.”

  “I never—I didn’t—” Ember spluttered. Barrow was the only man she’d wanted in this way. When he’d passed her training to Sorcha and kept himself distant, Ember had assumed that he held her in disdain. A child with a misguided infatuation. Only when he’d drawn her into his arms amid a downpour, beneath the shelter of a great oak, had she learned that he returned her feelings.

  “Sorcha and I never talked of these things,” Ember finished awkwardly.

  “Mmmmm.” Barrow made a sound that blended frustration and disbelief. “When you asked me if any of the guard took lovers, I thought you might have sought a companion for your bed.”

  Ember nearly choked on her own breath. Fortunately Barrow continued speaking, sparing her the embarrassment of an attempt at spluttering a response.

  “And it was that day”—Barrow paused, holding Ember in his gaze—“that I was forced to admit my jealousy. Though I thought I could fight my own desires, I learned quickly that my only choice was to keep myself away from you.”

  “I thought you despised me,” Ember said.

  “Despised you?” Barrow said. “How could you think—”

  “You left me,” she answered sharply. “You were my teacher, my friend, and then you were gone. What else was I to think?”

  “I thought you would take me to be a brute no different from Alistair,” Barrow continued, “who tried to force his way into your bed.”

  “You are nothing like Alistair. I longed for you to come to me.” Ember leaned toward him, her pulse thrumming with the boldness of her words.

  “I still feared you,” Barrow told her. “What would happen if I…”

  He rested his hand on her knee. Very slowly, Barrow’s touch moved up her thigh, following the curve of her hip and finally resting on her waist. He spread his fingers wide, pressing firmly from the bottom of her rib cage to her lower back. Ember didn’t break from his intent gaze, but her every breath was short and trembling.

  “I could ease your fears,” Ember murmured.

  “Yes.” Barrow kissed the crown of her hair. “But only when the risk is mitigated.”

  Ember turned her face up. Barrow looked down at her, taking her chin in his hand. After a moment, he kissed her, letting his mouth linger on hers, tasting her. He didn’t push her away when she moved closer, settling onto his lap and wrapping her legs around him.

  When their lips parted, Ember was breathless. Barrow’s fingers dug into her hips. She didn’t want him to let go.

  “When we reach Krak des Chevaliers, I’ll find someone who knows of the herbs you need.” He let all his breath out in a huff. “Believe me, I’ll find someone.”

  “Good.” Ember backed away, toying with the lacings of his chausses.

  He caught her hand, pulling her fingers to his lips and kissing them softly. “I only have so much will, Ember. Be kind.”

  That made her laugh, and to demonstrate her kindness, she moved to sit beside him, her arms and legs no longer holding him hostage. Barrow smiled, and she nestled her head against his chest, afraid to look at him as she next spoke.

  “I never knew I could want like this.”

  Barrow didn’t answer, but he pulled her closer, letting his finger circle the hollow of her throat.

  With a blush, Ember asked, “Is it… supposed to hurt? Wanting you? Because it does. A little.”

  Barrow’s deep laugh rumbled in her ear. “Be assured that I share in your suffering. Now rest. I’ll wake you in an hour or so to take over watch.”

  Ember thought to protest, but the warmth of his body drained the tension from her mind and muscles. Her eyelids fluttered only once before she nodded against Barrow’s chest and slept.

  EIRA PACED THE GREAT hall, her right hand grasping and releasing the hilt of her sword in agitation.

  “Tell me again,” Eira said to Cian, who was standing near the sacred tree.

  Cian sighed. “You know the names.”

  Eira cut a sharp look at her sister. Frustrated that she couldn’t silence the buzz of fear that chased her like a swarm of flies, Eira tried to recall the moments of this night when she’d felt triumphant.

  Before tonight, only Alistair had witnessed her ability to summon Bosque. But less than an hour ago, the Circle had witnessed her power… and trembled. Claudio and Fionn had already been present, and Eira summoned Thomas and Ewan—who’d joined the Guards’ vigil as a sign of the Circle’s grief and respect—to the great hall. The gathered leaders of Tearmunn watched as she spoke the invocation, standing in the pool of Fitch’s blood that stained the floor.

  When Bosque appeared at her side, bowing to her, Fionn had collapsed to his knees. Claudio stood his ground, but Eira noticed the throbbing pulse at his temples. Ewan took several steps back, making the sign of the cross, and Thomas gave a startled cry. Cian’s sword hissed out of its sheath; she held her ground, muscles quivering as she prepared to attack.

  Bosque took Eira’s hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. “My lady, I am here to serve you.”

  “Circle of Tearmunn, I would present to you Lord Bosque Mar,” Eira announced without breaking Bosque’s silver gaze.

  It was the narrowing of those liquid metal eyes that drew her gaze to Cian.

  Eira laughed at her sister. “You needn’t have drawn your sword. Here stands our greatest ally.”

  Cian hes
itantly returned her weapon to its sheath.

  After her demonstration, Eira gave orders that they should write to their peers across Conatus, bringing more of the order into the fold, and had sent the other Circle members away—all save Cian, whom Eira wanted nearby. It was a relief to finally confide in her sister, though Cian’s response had been much cooler than Eira had hoped.

  Eira and Cian had taken Bosque to the stockade, where Alistair stood watch over Mercer. She asked Bosque to stay with Alistair, confident that Bosque would have no trouble loosening Mercer’s tongue. And how much the better for young Alistair to bear witness. Eira had great confidence in the boy. Trust burgeoning into affection. If she’d ever had a nephew—or perhaps even a son—she imagined he would be much like Lord Hart.

  That thought settled her mind a bit as she focused on the problem at hand. Eira stopped her pacing and glared at Cian. “I’ve asked you to tell me their names. Never mind that you’ve spoken them before.”

  Cian answered wearily. “Lukasz, Kael, Barrow, and Ember—all from the Guard. Fitch and Mercer would have made their party six.”

  “And you’re certain no others supported them?” Eira asked. “None of the clerics or craftsmen?”

  If the traitors had taken a cleric capable of weaving, Eira dreaded the possibilities. Lukasz and his band of fellows could already be in Asia.

  Cian crossed to Eira, placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Calm yourself, Eira. The few who fled did so suddenly and in the dead of night. They had little time to plan, much less win allies.”

  Eira twisted out of Cian’s grip. “We can’t be too careful. This is a delicate time.”

  “Now that they’re away, what do you have to fear?” Cian asked. “You have the greater force, not to mention the security of the keep.”

  “Are you such a fool?” Eira snapped. “Those who are away are the best of the Guard. For God’s sake, the commander is among them.”

  “And what is it that you fear Lukasz will accomplish?” Cian frowned at Eira. “Is there anything he can do, given the power you’ve already demonstrated?”

  “If I know Lukasz, he’ll seek aid from other Conatus strongholds,” Eira told her.

  “But we will infiltrate those fortresses before your commander has even left this shore,” Bosque Mar interrupted as he entered the hall with Alistair Hart at his heels. “Conatus is yours to rule.”

  Eira noticed the tightening of Cian’s jaw when she answered Bosque. “And is that my sister’s fate? To rule Conatus?”

  The tall, dark-haired man’s reply was serene. “Eira’s fate is whatever she wishes it to be.”

  Cian turned to Eira. “Are you to rule us?”

  “We will rule, just as we have before,” Eira told her calmly. “But without suffering the petty whims and greed of those we once were beholden to—like Abbot Crichton.”

  “Do you doubt your sister’s vision?” Bosque stepped to Eira’s side, but leveled his gaze on Cian.

  “My sister will always have my love and loyalty, Lord Mar.” Cian spoke through gritted teeth. “But what’s happened constitutes a revolt and will carry heavy consequences.”

  “The consequence for those loyal to Conatus will only be a great reward,” Eira told Cian. “But for those who stand in our way—”

  “Will you truly make war on your own?” Cian broke in. “Can you take the sword to Lukasz, who has so long been our friend?”

  Eira pursed her lips, giving Cian a measured look. “I hope that our commander may yet see how shortsighted his actions are. If he repents, I will gladly welcome him home.”

  “My advice is that you bring him home before he is lost to us completely,” Bosque interjected.

  Cian’s brow knit. “And how will you find them? Dawn is still hours away.”

  “The dawn is of no consequence,” Bosque said. He turned to Alistair, who was standing quietly aside.

  Eira noticed that while Alistair’s back was straight and his shoulders set with strength, his face was pale and his eyes were empty.

  “Has Mercer revealed the route they’ve taken?” Eira asked Bosque, though a new concern for Alistair’s health unsettled her.

  “I would give this task to Lord Hart,” Bosque told them in a quiet, soothing voice. “For though the commander’s flight threatens our cause, it is this young knight who suffers the most from his companions’ departure.”

  Alistair gave the barest of flinches.

  Bosque approached him, speaking calmly. “Is this not true, young knight?”

  Clearing his throat, Alistair said, “It is, my lord.”

  “When that which is most precious has been stolen from you, there is even greater pleasure in taking it back.” Bosque smiled at Alistair.

  Alistair looked at Bosque, a desperate hope etched on his face.

  With a frown, Cian interrupted. “I ask again, how will you find them?”

  Bosque ignored her and instead considered Alistair’s stricken expression. “I would ease your pain, Lord Hart. Do you crave a hunt?”

  “A hunt?” Alistair repeated.

  “You’re the son of a nobleman,” Bosque answered. “Surely you’ve enjoyed hunts with your father and brothers.”

  “I have, my lord,” Alistair said, though his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “I’ll need something that belongs to the one you seek,” Bosque told Alistair. “Can you provide such an item?”

  “I—yes,” Alistair said, the doubt in his voice giving way to excitement.

  Bosque smiled at him. “Collect it and join us in the courtyard.”

  Alistair gave a short bow and dashed from the hall. Bosque pivoted to stand squarely facing Cian.

  “If you wish, I can show you exactly how we will find your runaways,” Bosque told Cian.

  “The courtyard, you say?” Cian asked, and Bosque laughed.

  “To bring my hunters here would be quite hazardous.” Bosque glanced at the wooden beams of the ceiling. “And to lose such a lovely hall would be a shame.”

  Cian cast a questioning glance at Eira, but Eira had no answers for her sister. When Bosque offered his arm, Eira took it and let him lead them from the hall. She could see hesitation and fear written on Cian’s face, but she knew her sister would soon understand and come to love the wonders Bosque Mar wrought.

  For her own part, Eira was no longer anxious about Lord Mar’s mysterious plans or his strange confidence in solving complex problems. She’d witnessed his finesse, his power, his control so many times over that she felt an almost childish joy in anticipating what he might manifest next.

  Cian would come to know that same crackle of expectation, and then the two sisters would wield the great weapons Bosque provided. All would be as it should. Eira was certain of that.

  When they entered the courtyard, Alistair was already there. He hurried to Bosque, and when the tall man held up his open palm, Alistair dropped a delicate object into Bosque’s hand.

  Eira recognized the necklace, and she knew Bosque would as well. He’d enchanted the pendant himself, promising Alistair that Ember would face no threat from the wraiths sent to attack the village. Assuring Alistair of Lady Morrow’s safety had been tantamount to securing his allegiance.

  A similar pendant had been given to Sorcha, but for a different purpose. When Eira had spoken to Sorcha, she’d presented the necklace as a peace offering. A token to remind Sorcha of the bond that women warriors shared, and an apology from Eira for the arguments they’d had about the future of Conatus. Sorcha had graciously accepted the necklace, not knowing that it meant her doom.

  Sorcha’s fate could have been Ember’s. Had Ember reached the village and attempted to take on Bosque’s wraiths only to have the shadow creatures submit to her, as they did to Sorcha, the villagers would have taken Ember for a witch too. Thus, Eira’s task of the night had been to find the girl and keep her out of harm’s way. That had been easy enough, though Eira hadn’t found Ember alone—but she had determined to keep what
she’d seen from Alistair. The boy was brokenhearted enough, thinking that Ember had gone with Lukasz, but Eira knew that the girl’s reasons for leaving were likely more tied to the strength of Barrow’s embrace than her loyalty to the commander.

  “Lady Cian, if you’d bring me a torch.” Bosque gestured to Eira’s sister.

  Cian fetched a torch from one of the sconces that framed the manor’s door, and Bosque took it from her. His gaze lingered on the dancing flame. Cian gasped when Bosque thrust his hand into the fire. He didn’t flinch as his skin crackled and sizzled. When he pulled his hand free, the flames crawled over his blackened fingers like a living glove.

  Making a fist, Bosque swung his arm in several arcs. His fiery hand left a trail of flame and smoke. Rather than dissipate, the flames formed a circle, swirling crimson and gold, shimmering with heat.

  With fingers still alight, Bosque pointed his hand at the center of the blazing ring. His words were strange, rasps and clicks syncopated over the low bass of his voice.

  Eira squinted at the circle of flames, confused by what she saw, for she could swear that within the fiery ring lay the black depths of a tunnel. As she peered into the dark core, something winked at her, like the flicker of a candle in a draft. Then two small points of light caught her eye. Then three. The tiny dancing flames grew larger, taking form as they drew closer.

  Cian gave a cry, and both sisters jumped back as fiery bodies leapt from Bosque’s circle.

  Alistair stood his ground, but his eyes were wide as he watched three shapes circle Bosque. Though flesh and blood had been traded for fire and smoke, there was no mistaking what these creatures Bosque had summoned were. Wolves.

  Where fur should have been, flames licked the bodies of the beasts. When they opened their mouths, plumes of smoke spewed out. With each step, they left charred paw prints on the earth.

  Bosque lowered his flame-covered hand, and the wolves approached. With tongues of fire, they licked his fingers, showing submission. Only when Bosque’s hand no longer burned did the wolves step away and return to circling the tall man.

  Eira glanced at Cian, who was staring at Bosque’s hand. Eira knew why her sister was riveted. The blackened skin, burning for so long, had healed, leaving no trace of damage.