Sword's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  Hadrian’s small barn was the only refuge she could find. As she threw herself into a pile of hay, Trikser came along, lying down flush to her body.

  His mind was quiet, but he wrapped her in feelings of love that only made Cera cry harder.

  She buried her face in his furry warmth, sinking her hands into his white mane.

  He whined and licked her ear, but she didn’t take any comfort.

  Jorrin hadn’t spoken to her in two days, since she’d tried to check on him by Hadrian’s barn and he’d ended up crushing her, but he hadn’t really conversed with her since before that, when she’d hurt his feelings by the woodpile.

  The back and forth was killing her.

  She hurt him, he hurt her. His confession wasn’t a surprise, but hearing the words had jarred her. Pushed one word from her lips that he’d taken the wrong way . . . but had he?

  Cera didn’t know what to say to him anyway. Admitting she cared about him was just too hard, wasn’t it?

  Coward.

  Going outside after Braedon’s dejected reentry of Hadrian’s cabin, she’d only wanted to make sure Jorrin was all right. Talk to him, maybe even try to explain something of her feelings, if she could’ve mustered the courage.

  What did she get instead?

  Disaster.

  And more hurt. Now he wouldn’t even look at her.

  Was her mission really the only thing keeping her away from Jorrin?

  Getting close to people had always been a struggle. She was highborn. Female, so there were even more specific things that were expected of her. Childhood had consisted of that knowledge being drilled into her. She’d grow up, marry a nobleman, and bear children. It was the cycle of those with land and titles.

  Cera respected duty and what was required of her. For the most part she’d never even questioned it. Her parents had expected her understanding, while not inhibiting who she was. She’d been lucky in that.

  Then again, she didn’t fit into the mold of the highborn heiress, duke’s daughter.

  She’d always been a tomboy, climbing trees and playing with wooden swords as a child, even challenging the boys to countless duels. She won most of the time, too. It’d gotten so they would even refuse to spar with her until she’d pulled rank, and they’d have to.

  One corner of her mouth lifted at the memory.

  Learning to ride younger than most girls, she’d rarely worn dresses. Her father had never discouraged her, and her mother had teased she should have been born a boy.

  Kait had been the dainty one. She crushed her eyes shut. Her sister had been as girly as Cera was not. Always wanting a new gown, a new hairstyle, fascinated by pretty, shiny things. Jewels, broaches and hair ornaments.

  Her younger sister had never even worn a pair of breeches. Kait had always asked for lavish, flowing and embroidered gowns. The more shimmery the fabric, the better.

  Their seven turn age difference was obstacle enough to seeing eye-to-eye with her little sister, but Cera had still adored her, despite their diverse interests. The older Kait got, the more they’d really talked.

  Varthan had stolen that from her, the bastard.

  She’d never see her sister into adulthood, never be a true friend to her.

  Tears scalded her cheeks and she burrowed into her wolf, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight.

  Cera cried over her family.

  She cried over Jorrin and she cried because she’d never taken the time to grieve.

  Trik whined again, but cuddled closer while memories sucked her in.

  Her mother had protested when she’d wanted to join the King’s Riders. Everalda had thought it was past time she stopped acting like a boy. She’d be fifteen soon, and they’d have to start thinking of marriage matches and her future.

  Falor had disagreed, stating she was a better rider and archer than most boys her age, and his wife had acquiesced. Never completely all right with things, but her mother had still been proud of her.

  Cera wasn’t at all bothered that girls were in the minority of the King’s Riders ranks. However, many girls followed in her footsteps.

  Something she would always be proud of.

  She’d made friends that were more like sisters.

  Ansley and Aimil.

  Blessed Spirit, no one knew where she was. They were probably all frantic, including her captain and the king.

  Were people looking for her? Or did they fear her dead like her family?

  Her parents’ smiling faces danced into her head, and her chest ached. She’d never stop missing them.

  There had always been plenty of hugs and kisses from Everalda and Falor to their daughters. In a world that wasn’t so prone to open affection, she was grateful she’d been raised by parents who had shown their love.

  Her parents had loved each other very much, and she’d always prayed for a love like theirs when she was ready to marry.

  However, letting someone in, letting someone get that close to her heart petrified her.

  Cera was in love with Jorrin.

  She didn’t want to love him.

  She couldn’t have him.

  There were too many obstacles. Not including the bad timing for the whole dratted thing.

  And she had too much pride to go pining after him. She’d reached out to him and Jorrin had pushed her away. A voice whispered that she’d pushed him away two times, pulled away from his kiss, but she ignored it.

  He’d hurt her and love wasn’t supposed to hurt.

  Besides, what if he didn’t love her?

  Jorrin had said he cared about her. That wasn’t a declaration of love.

  I’ll get through this.

  I have to.

  She’d go with her cousin, the wizard and Braedon to Tarvis and defeat Varthan.

  Save the rest of her family.

  Protect the sword.

  Then she would return to Greenwald and forget about Jorrin.

  Her only choice.

  ****

  Avery’s stare was locked on the door Cera slammed moments before. “Blessed Spirit, damn him.” He pounded his fist down on the table. “She’s crying, dammit. She doesn’t cry.”

  Braedon exchanged a look with Hadrian.

  His old friend’s pale blue eyes were wide.

  What the hell was he supposed to say?

  He shook his head, as shocked as Hadrian looked.

  Braedon stood and righted Cera’s chair, sighing as he slid back onto his seat and glancing at the young lord.

  The lad’s gray eyes flashed. From what he knew of Avery Lenore, this outburst was uncharacteristic. He was radiating dark emotions mixed with love for his cousin.

  “I’m going to rip him to pieces,” Avery promised.

  Braedon opened his mouth to speak, but Hadrian beat him to it.

  The wizard placed his slight hand over Avery’s forearm. “It’s not our place, lad. They need to work it out.” Voice steady and calm, the elf nodded for effect.

  Avery frowned.

  “Aye, and they’d better do it fast, because we need everyone’s head in this plan,” Braedon said. He’d been struggling the last few days not to act on his son’s behalf, but what could he do or say, really?

  Muting his empathic magic had failed, and Braedon couldn’t help but notice Cera’s torment. His head was at a constant ache. At least now the pain wasn’t as sharp as it had been moments earlier when she had been sitting at the table with them.

  Braedon had tried to project calming thoughts to her, but her mind was closed as tight as a vise; however vocal at the same time. She probably had no idea her own magic was amplifying her feelings.

  Hadrian should be grateful his gift is animals.

  Much, much simpler than people.

  Though he hadn’t known the young woman long, he admired her strength and determination. Speaking with her was easy and enjoyable.

  She was quite the match
for his son. They looked good together.

  If Jorrin and Cera could overcome their problems to accomplish their very serious task, the rest could be allowed to fall into place.

  He had no idea what had happened between them, but neither had any idea how to react to the other. Braedon half wanted to throttle Jorrin and half hug him. The same could be said about the girl.

  His magic told him she rarely let people close to her. It was obvious she was close with her cousin, but the lad was blood family. Braedon’s gut told him her wariness around people wasn’t only because of her situation.

  She’d never taken the time to grieve her family. Cera had survived their loss, but only just. Keeping her guard up because of the sword made sense, but she needed to learn to rely on people who cared about her.

  He considered himself in that category and Hadrian also cared for her.

  Braedon didn’t need empathic magic to see Jorrin was in love with her.

  The door handle to Hadrian’s cabin rattled.

  His son was on the other side.

  ****

  Jorrin sighed as he reached for the cabin door. He needed to go inside, although cowardice inched up from his gut. He took a deep breath.

  Moments earlier, Cera’s cousin had found him wallowing by Hadrian’s woodpile and confronted him.

  He’d admitted he had feelings for her.

  Avery had reminded him his parents’ lives’ were in jeopardy, and his cousin didn’t need any more stress.

  Be a man was the theme of the little talk, though Avery hadn’t called him out that directly. Jorrin hadn’t even mustered a biting retort, because the younger man was right.

  He needed to fix things with Cera.

  They were to depart for Tarvis the next day, and they all needed to be strong for her cause. The lives of Avery’s parents were not the only ones at stake.

  So far Jorrin hadn’t played any major role in the planning. He did of course, possess magic that would be necessary, but his father’s and Hadrian’s would be the most pertinent. He’d have to be a contributing party, and not just because he was in love with Cera.

  If Varthan’s ultimate plan were to succeed, a great number of people of all races would die. Varthan was nothing but a murderer, an exploiter, and he had to be stopped.

  But at the moment he’d rather face the evil man than look into the gray eyes that held so much pain the last time they’d interacted.

  He’d hurt her and it was unnecessary. Just as unnecessary as the words he’d shared with his father. It didn’t matter that she’d pushed him away.

  He loved her.

  What was he supposed to do?

  Jorrin needed to act like a grown up, for one thing.

  Which would be worse, admitting to Cera he’d been an arse, or telling Braedon he was wrong?

  Yes, Varthan seemed like a more welcome opponent than either the man who had given him life or the girl he’d inadvertently given his heart to.

  Jorrin took a deep breath and opened the door, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Get hold of yourself.

  Are you five turns old?

  He shook himself and took a step inside the cabin, then two more. Glancing toward the table, he saw Avery, Hadrian and Braedon.

  No Cera.

  The conversation was companionable. Both Braedon and Hadrian acknowledged him with a nod, so he slid onto an empty chair.

  Avery didn’t look at him, but he didn’t blame Cera’s cousin, considering how they’d left things.

  She was nowhere in sight, but he didn’t want to ask where she was.

  “She rushed outside several minutes ago,” Avery said, as if he had read Jorrin’s mind. The younger man still wouldn’t meet his eyes. His jaw was clenched, and both of his fists balled up, resting on the edge of the table.

  Jorrin was compelled to look at his father.

  Braedon made an almost imperceptible nod.

  Avery was angry enough to strike him?

  Though unspoken, that was Braedon’s message.

  He liked Cera’s cousin and had never seen a show of temper from the redhead, not even during his argument with her about their journey.

  Would the lord try to fight him?

  Hadrian looked like he was trying not to smile.

  What the hell was there to smile about?

  Avery being angry enough to beat him into mulch certainly wasn’t funny.

  Jorrin needed to go find Cera.

  They had a hard day ahead of them, and they couldn’t achieve a damned thing in the state they were in.

  With a nod to his father, he scrambled to his feet.

  Braedon tipped his head in return.

  How was he instantly able to communicate nonverbally with the man?

  He was glad Braedon wasn’t shutting him out after their argument, but how could he tell him that?

  Jorrin would follow, letting his father lead.

  Braedon loved him.

  Despite his unwillingness to acknowledge it during their argument, his father had spoken the truth.

  Jorrin believed him, but he could also feel Braedon’s emotions.

  Love and openness. Desire to be close to his son.

  Could Jorrin do the same—feel the same—for his father?

  Braedon had also been honest when he told him at the right time Jorrin would know all he needed to about his father’s past.

  He didn’t have to like the waiting, but it would have to do for now.

  Besides, it wasn’t time for Braedon, it was time for Cera.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cera breathed in time with the footsteps coming into the small barn. She panted with the effort. Even before she saw his tall, lean form, she knew it was Jorrin.

  She didn’t want to see him. She’d just decided to forget him.

  No need for sapphire eyes, tapered ears and coal black hair to change her mind.

  Strength was needed to start out for Tarvis in the morning. Cera needed to grasp it with both hands.

  It was just past twilight, so they barely had enough time to get a good night’s sleep. She didn’t have time for him or the bundle of emotions he stirred in her every time he looked at her.

  Their eyes locked and she rose to her feet, ready to demand he leave her alone.

  Trikser sensed tension—even though no words had been spoken—and started to growl deep in his throat. He leapt to his feet, landing in front of her.

  Jorrin froze in the doorway.

  “Trik, it’s all right . . . shhh . . .” she whispered, smoothing his hackles.

  He calmed, but she’d have to get him out of the barn.

  Cera didn’t know what would transpire with Jorrin, and wild emotions lent to difficult communication with her bondmate.

  Trikser would protect her from Jorrin as long as he perceived him to be a threat.

  “Go outside.” Cera sent Trikser a picture of the clearing in her thoughts.

  He whined.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  His ears plastered to his head, tail between his legs, her wolf made a slow exit. Trikser paused and looked over his shoulder from the doorway, his amber eyes glowing like an aura.

  She nodded at him to go, feeling his reluctance through their bond. Cera reinforced her order with another thought-send.

  The sliding wooden door to the small barn squealed as Jorrin yanked it shut.

  Magic lit up the place, as glowing orbs in each corner flared to life.

  Her heart sped up and she tried to turn away, but wasn’t quick enough.

  He grabbed her arm.

  “I don’t want to do this, Jorrin.” Her voice shook.

  Damn.

  Tears were already threatening.

  “Why do you always resist what you feel?” Jorrin locked his gaze with hers.

  He backed her against the wall, arms on either side, pinning her against it so she couldn’t move away.

&nb
sp; So she had to look at him.

  So she couldn’t run away.

  Cera gulped. “What do you mean?” He was so angry, jaw clenched, broad shoulders tight as he leaned into her. She didn’t like to be cornered by him, but it wasn’t out of fear. Jorrin would never hurt her.

  She broke their eye contact, but Cera couldn’t make it last. She took a deep breath and met his sapphire eyes, feeling almost compelled to face him.

  Was he trying to probe her thoughts?

  “You and me. We have to do something about it.”

  This time avoidance wouldn’t work.

  He wouldn’t release her until she was honest with him.

  Cera averted her gaze again, but for the second time couldn’t evade his stare for very long. She tried not to decipher his expression and the mixed emotions raging in his eyes.

  “Why won’t you let me be there for you? I told you before, you don’t have to be the strong one all the time. I can support you. I can protect you. I want to. You need to let me.” He shook his head, but didn’t release her.

  What could she say?

  She closed her eyes. Cera would have to admit, out loud, to Jorrin how she felt about him.

  Open herself to him, risk her heart with him.

  Could she risk him with Varthan?

  She had to be strong, had to be determined to go after Varthan; no one else could.

  Hadrian had even said she was the only one who could do it.

  How could she possibly handle it if she had to worry about someone else?

  Faltering could get him killed.

  Knowing Varthan, it would get Jorrin killed and she couldn’t live with that, ever.

  She loved him.

  “Cera, look at me,” Jorrin ordered. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel for me what I feel for you. Lie to me.”

  Cera couldn’t take it anymore . . . being this close to him . . . hurting him.

  Reach for him, you idiot.

  Tell him how you feel.

  But words wouldn’t come. Her arms didn’t encircle him. She couldn’t make her feet push her into his chest, where she wanted to be.

  Her vision blurred and hot tears fell down her cheeks. She closed her eyes again.