“Even in sleep she craves you,” the goddess said, an odd pang in her voice, her expression wistful as she watched Afina settle.
“In that we are well matched.” He swung his legs around and settled on the bed’s edge, bare feet flat on the floor. The chill of flagstone crept from heel to toe, but Xavian didn’t move. The goddess sat, and so would he, to better shield Afina. “What do you want?”
The goddess’s focus dropped to the blade he held by his thigh. The steel tip gleamed silver in the low light. Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “A moment alone with you, nothing more.”
“Why?”
The goddess arched a brow. “You are her mate now...her forever male. We must come to an understanding.”
An understanding, his arse. She wanted to lay the ground rules, to put him in his place. The problem? Xavian knew exactly where he stood, now and in the future. Afina might be the magic wielder, but she needed his strength and touch to survive. Naught would get in the way of that...not even the goddess.
“I enjoy your intelligence, Xavian. For a male, you are astute. You know your purpose and what Afina needs. For this alone, I accept you.” A slow smile spread over her face, taking her from beautiful to breathtaking. “But you must give if you wish to take, warrior. Balance in all things...it is the way of this world. Afina is as much mine as she is yours.”
“Xavian?”
Full of sleepy confusion, the whisper came from behind. The husky timbre stroked him like a lover. His muscles flickered. His mind took flight, reminding him Afina lay without a stitch on behind him. The image brought a groan to his throat. He bit it back, ignoring the shift below his navel and the need that caused it. Now was no time to become distracted.
The covers rustled and Afina murmured his name again.
Exhaling long and smooth, he adjusted the quilt across his hips, hiding his body’s reaction to her closeness. “Go back to sleep, love. ’Tis all right.”
More rustling, as though she had shifted in his direction. He steeled himself, afraid she might...rahat, she did. Xavian swallowed, suppressing a shiver as her hand drifted down his spine. She drew warm circles on his back, a motion meant to soothe, and said, “Then why do you have a knife in your hand?”
Christ, his plan was shot to hell. So much for keeping her away from the goddess. “We have a visitor.”
His tone was harsh, rife with warning. Afina took the hint. A tug on the sheet, more rustling before she rolled to her knees behind him, using his back as a shield. Smart lass. Her small hand flat against him, she peeked over his shoulder.
“Oh, it’s you,” Afina said, warm welcome in her tone. Shuffling on her knees, she looped her arm around his neck, snuggling against his back.
“Greetings, daughter,” the goddess said, voice soft, gaze bouncing from him to Afina. “You have come to terms with your male, I see.”
Her hair brushed him as she hugged him closer. “Yes.”
One syllable. Such a simple response, but it hit Xavian like a lodestone. She’d claimed him...in front of the goddess. She meant to keep him. Had accepted him with word and deed.
Why that surprised him, he wasn’t sure. She’d told him earlier, but hearing her say it out loud to another made it real. He wasn’t just her bedmate, a plaything she would tire of and throw away. She was his mate, and he was hers and...Rahat. That made him want to lay her down and love her all over again.
“Good.” Satisfaction gleamed in the goddess’s eyes. “It will make what comes next easier for him to bear.”
Xavian’s eyes narrowed. “Easier for you, mayhap.”
Afina went tense against him. Xavian felt her fear an instant before she asked, “What do you want from him?”
“Easy, draga.” He kept his voice soft, wanting her calm. He needed to keep his wits about him and her upset would only serve to distract him. Reaching behind, he settled his hand on her thigh and squeezed, transferring his need—and reassurance—through touch. “Let me handle this.”
“I’ll try,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. Kissing the back of his shoulder, she leaned away to wrap the sheet over her breasts. He felt her secure it then shuffle sideways. She ended up sitting beside instead of behind him.
Tousled and rosy-cheeked, she rose like a queen from the wrinkled sheets, straight-backed and regal. But her posture lied. He saw her clenched hands, the ones she hid in the sheet folds, along with the worry in her eyes. Flipping the dagger to his left hand, he reached for her with his right. She latched onto him, entwining their fingers, squeezing them hard.
A crease between her brows, the goddess said, “I had hoped it would not come to this, but...”
Xavian brushed his thumb over Afina’s palm. “But?”
“There is little choice now.” Brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, the goddess tossed an apologetic look at Afina. “Forgive me, child, but I must take your male—”
“No!” Shaking free of his hold, Afina scrambled to her feet. She planted herself in front of him so fast Xavian barely saw her move. “He stays with me.”
With a curse, Xavian surged behind her, ready to take the hit if the goddess struck in anger.
“Afina,” the goddess said, voice sharp, eyes narrowed, magic throbbing in the air around her. “You will listen first and ask second. Otherwise I will do as I wish...without your consent.”
Aggression rolled beneath Xavian’s skin. He didn’t like the goddess’s tone or the fear it evoked in Afina. Reaching for his trews, he shrugged them on, pulling the laces tight before settling his hand on Afina’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
A tremor flickered through her as she turned and slid into his embrace. Curling his arm around her, Xavian tipped his chin toward the goddess. “Explain.”
With a nod, the goddess raised her hand. Milky white, perfectly round, a sphere rose from her palm. Grower larger, it levitated, floated in midair for a moment before splitting down the middle to form a flat panel. Afina sucked in a quick breath, her rib cage expanding against him as a picture formed on the pale background. Snow capped the top and bottom of the globe, but most of the mass was covered by blue. Blotches of brown and green interrupted the indigo flow, some connecting, others leagues apart.
“A bird’s-eye view of the world you live in.” The goddess flicked her fingers and the image wavered, became blurry, then spun into another. Xavian’s brows collided as a forest came into view followed by a mountain range and, last, a ribbon of blue...the Jiu River. Christ, they were flying above the ground, looking down upon the land. “This is your home...sun and moon, land and sea, earth and sky.”
Another flick of the fingers. The image whirled once more.
Xavian tensed as the lush green of the forest turned black. Like skeletons, trees stood at odd angles, charred limbs above barren ground. The Jiu no longer sparkled in the sun. Naught more than a sunken pit, the riverbed lay cracked beneath fish bones and dead weeds. The mountains loomed above it all, the peaks devoid of snow cover, pointing to a scorched sky. Yellow clouds swirled, and Xavian swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat.
“And that is what your world will become if balance is not restored.”
“Mother Mary,” Afina whispered, her gaze fastened to the horrific images flying across the panel. “What must we do?”
“You already do your part, Afina. The instant you came into your magic, you began your journey.” The goddess stared at the burned-out landscape, expression full of regret. With a sigh, she dragged her gaze away to look at Afina. “You are my conduit, child...the means by which magic passes from my world into yours. Through you my power is transformed into the life-giving essence the earth needs to thrive. In this way all things grow and balance is achieved.”
Afina frowned. “Why can’t you do this yourself?”
“My magic is too potent to be spread upon the earth without first being filtered. Too much is as damaging as too little,” the goddess said. “Without you, my essence wil
l not flow onto earth and balance will never be maintained. I chose the women of your family millennia ago. In this way, they have always served.”
“Until my mother.” Sorrow in her eyes, Afina pressed deeper into Xavian’s side. He tightened his arm around her, encouraging her to lean on him as he searched for the words to soothe her. He didn’t know what to say. Family had never been his strong suit.
“Ylenia was a fool, Afina. Her betrayal was her failing, not yours.”
The goddess fisted her hand and the white panel shattered, images falling away in a cloud of dust. Caught up by firelight, the faint sprinkle lingered for a moment then disappeared as the goddess paced the length of the chamber. She passed the end of the bed. Xavian shifted his stance, keeping Afina out of the line of fire.
Nose to wardrobe door, she spun back toward them, the fury in her gaze so fierce it painted the stone walls the color of moss. “When your mother chose the dark path, nature lost its keeper. The forests ceased growing, the flowers failed to bloom, the soil grew stale, and man’s crops became less plentiful every year.”
“The beech trees that surrounded my cottage were dying,” Afina said, sadness in her tone. “I could feel their thirst.”
The goddess murmured, echoing the same distress as she glanced at Xavian. “Have you not noticed these things?”
“I am a warrior, Goddess, not a farmer,” he murmured, his gaze on the goddess, his attention on Afina. Pushing Afina’s hair aside, he cupped the nape of her neck. Fingers searching, he massaged, attacking her tension.
The goddess gave him a pointed look.
He conceded, answering her question. “I have heard grumbles, the worry of those who work the land. Each year produces less, the markets lack the variety they once boasted, and livestock becomes thinner with the change of each season. Many talk of famine.”
“One without end...which would come but for Afina.”
“But you have her now,” he said, not grasping the reason for her continued concern. She’d reached her goal. Afina stood ready to do her duty, and still the goddess wasn’t happy. “Afina’s magic will reverse the decay. Your problem is solved.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“Naught ever is.”
“True enough, warrior,” she said, her attention now focused on him. “I cannot fight this battle alone. In truth, I cannot fight it at all.”
“An enemy plagues you?”
“A powerful one. He was contained until...Ylenia turned dark.” Pain made an appearance on her face before she smoothed her expression. “Using the black arts, she opened the gates into the underworld. Gates that can never be closed. And now dark forces stir in the underbelly. Things that were never meant to see the light of day.”
Afina shivered against his side. He tightened his hold on her, the sense of foreboding he’d felt since returning to Drachaven reaching a fevered pitch. “You need a fighter to put them back in their box.”
The goddess shook her head. “I need a leader of men...one touched by the conduit, one with her magic in his blood. One with the skills to wage war.”
Exploding from his side, Afina threw off his hold to plant herself in front of him once more. “No. He has endured enough...has finally found a home and the peace he has dreamed of. Do not drag him into a war. I can do what is needed, Goddess. Let me—”
“No, you cannot, child.” The goddess took a step toward them, holding her hands palms up, arms out to the sides. “I am the Mother of all things and you are an extension of me. I made a vow long ago never to harm another soul. We are nurturers at heart, Afina...healers. It would pain you to kill another and lessen your effectiveness as a conduit. I need warriors who will not shy away from what must be done. No matter the circumstances.”
“Trained killers,” he murmured.
The stir of excitement hit Xavian gut-level. Finally. His purpose revealed; one beyond caring for Afina. The kind Henrik had always possessed and Xavian never had. Jesu. This was his chance. The opportunity he needed to put his mind and skills to work for the greater good, to atone for the sins of his past.
“If you like,” the goddess said, inclining her head toward him. “Armand, king to the underworld, rises. Like me, he cannot wield his power here on earth, but seeks out those willing to serve his purpose. Even now, he builds his army. I must do the same.”
Xavian flexed his shoulders, turning the possibilities over in his mind.
No doubt seeing his interest, the goddess pressed, enticing him. “You and your men will be my first line. The Defenders. The sharp end of my sword and teachers to those who follow you. Drachaven will be my stronghold against those now awakening in the bowels of the earth.”
“Afina stays with me?”
“You are her male, warrior. I would never take you from her.”
“Then—”
“Xavian, no.” Laying her palms flat on his chest, Afina met his gaze. His heart clenched at the despair he saw in her eyes. “I am what I am...that cannot be changed. But you have a chance at what you have always wanted. Freedom. Do not give it away.”
“I am an assassin, love,” he said, stating it plainly for the first time.
She went stiff an instant before her obstinate chin thrust forward. “You are more than that.”
“Mayhap,” he said, softening his tone to help her accept. “But ignoring my past will not make it go away.”
On the verge of crying, she pushed against his chest.
Xavian curled his arm around her, refusing to allow her retreat. As much as he craved her good opinion, he wanted honesty between them more. “What good am I if I do not use my skill to serve the greater good? The years with Al Pacii, all the training and punishment...if not for this then what? I want to believe there is a reason for what I endured. The goddess’s purpose gives meaning to the suffering.” He dropped his blade to the mattress. It bounced once as he secured his hold on Afina. “Draga, I will protect you always, but this is something I must do.”
“Then we are agreed?” Soft and true, the goddess’s tone spun a thin web around him. Once he committed, the threads that tied them would be absolute. As strong as the bond she shared with Afina.
A tear rolled over Afina’s lashes. Xavian wiped it away, waiting for her to accept his decision. When she lowered her eyes and tucked her face against his chest, he said, “You have my sword, but...”
The goddess raised a brow, waiting for him to continue.
“My men choose for themselves. I will not force them into your service.”
“Your men will follow where you lead, warrior. You know this as well as I.”
“True enough,” he said, glad for their loyalty even as he prayed he didn’t lead them astray.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“War?” Tossing the knife into the air, Henrik’s eyes gleamed with interest. He caught the blade mid-flip, twirled the hilt in the center of his palm, and threw it again. “With who?”
Xavian crossed his arms over his bare chest and leaned back against his worktable, wondering where to start. From the beginning? Or should he just hammer them with the bottom line? He vacillated a moment then tossed it into the open. “King of the Underworld.”
Cristobal choked. A piece of the apple he was eating hit Xavian square in the chest. “That sounds challenging.”
“And promising,” Henrik murmured, dagger hilt now planted against his palm.
Turning his half-eaten apple over in his hand, Cristobal said, “Positively engaging.”
“No trouble believing me, Cristobal?” Flicking the apple chunk off his skin, Xavian raised a brow. He wasn’t worried about Henrik. Afina’s brother knew of the goddess, had already accepted that magic existed in the world. His other men weren’t so well versed. “’Tis a lot to swallow.”
“Shit, I saw Garren shift in the glen last week,” Cristobal said, dark eyes flashing. “After talking to a dragon, I’m apt to believe anything.”
Xavian bit back a smile. Trust Garren to br
ing his men into the fold. The shifter knew how much he valued each one. That he’d made it his mission to reveal himself to those closest to him said a lot about his loyalty...and his cunning. Another reason to be glad. He needed the dragons in the battles to come. Whatever form the fighting took, their skill and strength would give him the advantage.
Too bad he didn’t have a few more specifics.
As it was, he was flying blind. The goddess hadn’t provided any details. Which led Xavian to believe there weren’t any. A problem. But one that was easily solved. People talked. Word of such things always traveled. If King Bastard was building an army, there would be signs: supply wagons, workers, whispers to point him in the right direction.
Whittled down to naught more than its core, Cristobal tossed the apple at the wooden refuse box beside the door. It bounced on the rim, teetered a moment, then fell with a thud. “When do we start?”
“Soon?” Henrik asked as he sheathed the knife in his chest holster and took out another. Testing the midpoint, he balanced the blade on the tip of his finger and shot Xavian a hopeful look.
Xavian snorted. Only his best friends would look forward to fighting what amounted to the devil—or at least his minions. But he couldn’t fault them. He was having trouble curbing his own excitement. Christ, a challenge—one in which he would get to hunt again. ’Twas ironic, really. All his life he’d yearned for a home, a place to call his own. But now that he held Drachaven he realized the day-to-day running of it bored him. He was a hunter at heart, built to attack in order to defend, not sit on a wall and wait for conflict. That his men saw themselves in the same light was no real surprise.
Catching movement in his periphery, Xavian lowered his voice. “We start when everyone is on side and in the fold.”
“We keep it close?” Henrik’s eyes narrowed, catching a flash of color from inside Xavian’s bedchamber.
Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) Page 31