Book Read Free

Hers To Choose (Verdantia Book 2)

Page 5

by Patricia A. Knight


  “What!”

  “You—last hope, Sophi. You—bigger, stronger. Beg you. Kill me.”

  Lady Claudia closed her eyes, and Sophi didn’t hesitate.

  Though High Lord DeTano’s war ships attacked mere hours later and rescued her from horrors surpassing mere death, it was too late for Sophi’s friend.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The memory turned her bones to liquid and vomit rose in her throat. No! No! I am a woman of the Oshtesh, a warrior and desert hunter. Memories cannot hurt me. I am strong. I am resilient. Sophi firmed her resolve. Petrina needs me to be strong. She straightened and squared her shoulders. I need a distraction. She broke the silence.

  “Have you known my brother for long, Commander?” Her eyes, alert for unusual movement, anything out of the ordinary continued to scan the broken profile of the horizon.

  “No. I met him after the Tetriarch formed. I commanded our queen’s private bodyguard. When he and High Lord DeTano moved into her apartments, my command expanded to include them—though men more deadly would be hard to find. That I protect them? It is laughable.”

  “So you have only known him for, what, four years? I would have guessed much longer. You remind me of him.” Her eyes cut to him briefly.

  “Hmm. And how is that, Flight Leader?”

  A slow, unwilling smile stretched her lips. “You are both sneaky. I count myself fortunate to have you on my side in a fight.”

  He grunted. “And you know this, how? When you were nursing me, I resembled a well-ventilated practice dummy more than a skilled swordsman.”

  Her face sobered. “During the Haarb ambush.” My eye was drawn to the moat of dead bodies with a savage, blood-drenched warrior at its heart. It was you. “I have never seen such a deadly display of swordsmanship.” You were magnificent. Remembering the feel of his nude body under her hands, each hard muscle delineated to create a masterpiece of male beauty, she amended her thought. You are magnificent.

  Eric shrugged. “Your brother told me after High Lord DeTano rescued you from the Haarb, he took you to Primus G’hed and his wife Lyre. You have lived with them, isolated in the desert, ever since.” The handsome commander glanced at her as they rode. “Was there nothing you missed about your estates or family to pull you back?”

  Where do I begin? “I was not the same person then. The Haarb methodically stripped my identity from me. I became a thing. I needed time and quiet to pull the shattered pieces together, to rebuild myself, if you want.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “The Oshtesh gave me respect. Their respect enabled me to respect myself again and helped me gain a new identity—warrior, hunter—not slave, not voiceless victim. They presented a society antithetical to that of the decadent court in Sylvan Mintoth with its reliance on sexual magick. I wasn’t besieged at every turn with men wanting something from Segundo DeLorion’s sister.”

  “Then why did you agree to return to Sylvan Mintoth? It seems your life with the Oshtesh brought you wholeness and peace.” Eric studied her.

  With a soft, wry snort, she answered. “Primus G’hed and Mother Lyre kicked me out. She told me I had to return with you. Explore my birthright.” She smiled at the surprise on his face. “We have the formidable personalities of Mother Lyre and Doral pressing us together into this match.” He looks distinctly uncomfortable, how amusing.

  “I don’t care how formidable the personalities. I won’t take an unwilling woman to wife, Sophi.”

  She could see every muscle in his jaw. Honesty forced her to concede, at least to herself, her purely feminine appreciation for Eric’s impressive build. What she knew of his character merely reinforced his physical attractiveness. Her brother truly had her best interests at heart. Nevertheless, when Eric’s bold eyes met hers, she couldn’t stop her soft challenge. “Then make me willing, Eric.”

  * * *

  “Up here, Flight Leader.” Rhea’s whispered voice directed as Sophi and Eric belly-crawled up a rocky rise overlooking a long flat plain. Sophi watched Eric surreptitiously. His wounds must pain him terribly but he gives no sign of it.

  Military figures swarmed in ebbs and flows around a large encampment a short distance from their position. The stink of unwashed flesh, cold fires and stirred dirt hung in the air.

  Dropping to her stomach, holding her spyglass to her eye, she swept from left to right, searching for a particular figure.

  “There. Off to the left, set apart from the main camp,” Eric murmured as all three lay prone, examining the scene before them. “By the seven hells!” he hissed.

  “No, Sophi, don’t look,” he ordered, quickly pushing her glass down.

  Grimly, she shrugged him off and brought it back up to examine the area he had indicated. A nude figure hung by the arms between two posts fixed in the earth, feet dangling loosely above the dark-stained earth. She refocused her glass. Petrina—or what was left of her. She didn’t know if the figure hanging there held life. The face that had smiled and laughed with Sophi over so many private amusements hung slackly facing the sky, jaws agape, eyes unseeing. Blood tinted her pale body vermillion. The ends of her breasts resembled chewed, raw meat. Strips of flesh hung peeled from her delicate torso. The talented, strong fingers that had pulled so many bowstrings with deadly accuracy now stuck out at odd angles to her hands. Sophi could look no more. She collapsed her eyeglass and rested her forehead in the hot sand.

  “We must get her out of there, Eric. Alive or dead.” She pushed the words through a throat choked with grief and fury.

  “She is poorly guarded,” Eric replied. “We will wait until nightfall, just two hours. I’ll go in with two of my men and get her out.” His flat voice betrayed no emotion.

  “I am going with you,” she hissed.

  He pierced her with an angry stare and shook his head.

  “I am going with you,” she repeated, implacably.

  He closed his eyes. The grinding of his teeth was audible. “Do you have any more of that sleeping draught you gave me?”

  “Yes. The plant grows here. I can get you as much as you need.”

  “I need enough for her three guards. Is there something you can put in it to mask the bitterness?”

  “The herbal portion of the sleeping draught, by itself, is almost tasteless. The bitterness comes from the opiate I used as a painkiller.”

  “Good. Then just the sleeping draught.”

  They slithered back to their waiting horses and Sophi warbled a birdcall. Silently, the remainder of her flight and Eric’s men rejoined them. Sophi called Adonia aside for a brief conversation about compounding the sleeping draught and then rejoined Eric.

  “Lieutenant Crawford,” Eric called in a low voice.

  “Sir.”

  “How’s the arm? Fully functional?”

  “It’s good, sir.”

  “When dark sets in, I want you to slip into that camp and dose the guards’ brew with a sleeping draught.”

  Crawford’s eyes widened as he heard Eric’s words but then determination firmed his expression and he nodded. “Yes, sir. Walk in the park.”

  Eric nodded. “Good man. If they are like every other army, they will have their evening brew and relax. That’s when you make your move, and get back to that rise.” He motioned to where they had lain to survey the camp. “After the draught takes effect, you and I and Flight Leader DeLorion will get Mistress Petrina out.”

  Eric forced out her name as if his teeth ground rocks but Sophi didn’t care. She had ordered Petrina on this reconnaissance. She was responsible for getting her freed.

  He turned to her. “I am going back up that rise to observe the camp. I need as much information as possible when I report to the Queen and Segundo DeLorion.”

  She nodded and watched as he moved back up the rise, and blended into the dirt and rocks.

  When she was certain she was alone, she found a place to conceal herself from any observing eye and gave way to silent, gut-wrenching sobs, her stoic endurance shattered by guilt and stark r
eminders of her nightmare past. She couldn’t stop, even when strong, masculine arms surrounded her and pulled her close. His hand came up to cradle her head, tucking her into his chest and simply holding her until her grief had spent itself.

  “I cannot imagine the horrific memories this must resurrect.” Eric held her quietly. “Please promise me something.”

  “Mmm.” She allowed herself a moment’s rest surrounded by the arms of a fierce warrior, protected, sheltered—safe. I am so tired.

  “Promise me you will not blame yourself for Petrina.”

  She could feel his chest vibrate with the low tones of his voice. Its deep bass soothed her immeasurably and she both hated and reveled in the comfort she took from him. It is weakness.

  “A commander must order their troops into harm’s way. You are no more or less responsible for Petrina than I am for the twenty-four dead from my guard. It is what we do, Sophi. Our men and women follow us because they know we would give our lives for them, were the situation reversed. It is a brotherhood and sisterhood bound through blood.”

  She sighed and sat up, wiping her face with the heel of her hands and the hem of her robe. “I hate my weakness. I cannot imagine Commander Eric DeStroia of the Queen’s Royal Guard ever sought a hidden place to pour out his grief and private terrors.”

  “You would be wrong, Flight Leader.” He pulled her to him again and she went, unresisting. “And caring is not weakness.”

  Chapter Five

  Flight Leader.” Eric’s voice tickled in Sophi’s ear.

  She felt a shift in the warmth surrounding her and she opened her eyes.

  “Sophi, it is dusk. Time to get moving.”

  “Oh.” She uncurled slowly from her position snuggled on his lap. He extended his arm, then bent it again, opening and closing his fist to restore circulation. Confusion flustered her. I fell asleep in his arms.

  “Ah, I…ah, I thought you were going to observe the Haarb’s movements.” She fussed with the cord belting her waist, smoothed both hands down her thighs.

  “Mmm. A good commander always identifies the position of greatest need.”

  She could feel the blush rise on her neck and she ducked her head. “I am not more valuable than the information you might have obtained.”

  “My actions speak for themselves.”

  She raised her eyes to his, meeting him with a straightforward gaze. “You are a kind man, Eric DeStroia.”

  His warm, green eyes held hers, a slight smile tipping his lips before a harder expression clouded them and his smile disappeared. “Does your sleeping draught work on wolves?”

  Doubt wrinkled her brow. “I suppose so. Why?”

  “The Haarb brought tracking animals, savage Fell wolves, unnaturally altered to suit their purposes. I want to scatter drugged bait for them.”

  “Yes, good idea,” Sophi murmured.

  “There is no telling what other abominations we will face. During the Haarb ambush, I fought against an enemy I had thought only a gruesome tale. Some of the fighters were not totally human. It appeared they had been gene-spliced with a great lizard. Their skin was thick, warty and their eyes had a second eyelid and a vertical pupil. One or two of them had venomous fangs.”

  “The Haarb leader, Krakoll,” Sophi whispered. “He and his personal squad of killers are a hybrid of reptile and human. Strip them and you will see more differences.” Memories cannot harm me. I am no longer that person. I am strong. I am resilient. Memories cannot harm me. I am no longer that person.

  He stood and touched her arm, bringing her out of her torturous thoughts. “Lizards bleed like the rest of us. There is no immunity to steel blades. Let’s get Petrina.”

  * * *

  Lieutenant Jeremy Crawford knew his business. Eric watched the young soldier climb back toward them. He had gotten the sleeping draught into the skin bag holding the guards’ brew. It was only a matter of time before they fell asleep.

  “I got the whole measure into the bag, sir,” Crawford whispered and he lay beside Eric, opposite Sophi. “They should be nodding off pretty soon.”

  “Good job, Lieutenant. Now we wait.” Eric was very aware of the slender, feminine body lying next to him on the incline. He had tried one more time to get her to stay behind but she was having none of it. Whatever demons she fought, she had conquered. Her actions were smooth and steady and her manner, calm. She was ready.

  “Commander, Lieutenant, I think they are succumbing to the drug. I’m starting down.” Sophi crouched and moved out down the slope. They had agreed on her route earlier in the day. It would allow her to descend, screened by rockfall until it opened into the camp. To Eric’s horror, one of the guards roused and stood up. Rubbing his face and scratching his balls, he staggered erratically toward the place Sophi would emerge and then stopped to take an unsteady piss.

  “Hells’ breath! Sophi! Get back here,” he hissed. She didn’t hear him. With her angle of descent, she was moving straight into deadly trouble. The guard would be hidden from her sight until she was almost on him.

  “Crawford, follow me. Be quick about it!” Eric started down at a different angle, one that would take him behind the guard relieving himself, but directly in view of the two sleeping fitfully nearby. He stopped and grabbed the young lieutenant by his shirt. “Those two.” Eric slashed his hand across his throat.

  Crawford nodded and got into position behind the two sleeping guards. Eric waited only long enough to see Crawford cut their throats then crept as silently and as quickly as possible toward the third guard.

  The guard stowed himself away and closed his pants. He cocked his head then unaccountably moved toward Sophi’s position, peering into the dark. “Whass out there?”

  Sophi crouched behind a small rock cluster less than ten feet in front of him. She had seen the guard and retreated quickly to take advantage of the limited cover. But, if he continued approaching the rock, her position would be exposed.

  Fuck! No time! Eric straightened and closed the distance to the guard with a leap. The man heard him and turned. His shout for help ended in a liquid gurgle even as it began as Eric severed his throat. Eric glanced back at Crawford and with a jerk of his head motioned him to follow.

  While Crawford kept watch, he and Sophi moved to Petrina. Sophi’s barely contained keen of grief tore at him. The silent tears streaming down her face pierced him as if her sorrow was his own.

  He growled low under his breath. “Godsbedamned animals. I hope they fry in the deepest hell.” He held the redhead’s bloody body up while Sophi’s razor-sharp blade made short work of the leather strips cruelly sunk into the bloated skin on Petrina’s wrists. Eric looked away from the obscenity of Petrina’s hands.

  When Sophi freed her, Eric stifled a groan of pain. His body protested her unconscious weight pulling at his barely healed wounds. He could feel the wetness of fresh blood trickling down his groin.

  “By the seven hells of Jurossa. What they have done to her?” Crawford whispered. “I am going to be sick.”

  “That will not help Mistress Petrina, Lieutenant. Pull yourself together, man, and let’s get out of here.” Cradling her in his arms, Eric retraced his steps up the incline and over the ridge before meeting Captain Biron and relinquishing Petrina to his captain’s strong arms.

  Sophi’s heavy breathing followed him down as they met up with their squad of riders and archers.

  Eric turned to Sophi. “That was too close.” His eyes flicked to Crawford. “Did you have any trouble with the drugged bait for the wolves?”

  “No. I scattered it all around the site.”

  Eric’s eyes returned to Sophi. “Let’s hope this works.”

  “Yes, if the Haarb free the Fell wolves to find our trail, hopefully they will eat enough of the drugged meat to be incapacitated for a while. My flight’s desert skills will elude Haarb trackers. We only need worry about the wolves.”

  She paused for several heartbeats. He almost didn’t hear her quiet aside.
r />   “Eric...is she…?”

  “Yes. Not by much, but she is alive.”

  Sophi stood silently at his side watching as Captain Biron gently laid Petrina on a blanket. Adonia and Layna immediately attended her injuries. The two women worked quickly, frequently glancing up to the ridge separating them from the Haarb. Slowly, one by one, the rest of the group drifted in and stood guard.

  Eric grimly exchanged a speaking glance with his captain. We don’t have time for this. Biron nodded.

  “Hurry, we must put some distance between us and the Haarb.” Jon’s tense whisper increased the sense of urgency, speaking aloud what they all were thinking.

  “We can’t move her in this condition. We are working as fast as we can,” Adonia hissed back. “We’re aware of the danger.”

  A healing poultice was laid over Petrina’s savaged breasts. The shriveled strips of hanging skin were trimmed away and the raw flesh poulticed. The women then bound her entire torso in clean cloth. Adonia held each wrist while Layna pulled her dislocated and broken fingers straight and splinted them. Petrina moaned when her fingers were tended to, the pain reaching through even her unconsciousness.

  When they had done what they could quickly do in the ill-lit space, the women snugged Petrina tightly in the blanket. One of the cavalrymen handed her tenderly up to a mounted Captain Biron. He cradled her to his chest and nodded to Eric. Eric turned to his ride and Sophi’s flight with a brief, quiet, “Form your groups, then move out.”

  His eyes scanned face after familiar face. Tears sparkled on several cheeks. Even his hardened cavalry swiped surreptitiously at their eyes.

  He pressed gently against the ache in his groin. His hand came away bright with blood. Ah, hells. It will just have to keep.

  They rode back to L’ago Mistero in solemn silence. Even more than the death of twenty-four of their brethren, the torture and mutilation of Petrina weighed heavy on the survivors. When one set of masculine arms tired, another stretched out in offer. The entire cavalry ride shared the burden of her slight body with an air of sacred privilege.

 

‹ Prev