Sword's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  Cera grinned.

  They broke their little group meeting, leading their horses inside the perimeter of the dilapidated stone wall.

  She grabbed her pack and furs from Ash’s saddle and patted his neck. Cera unsaddled her horse and rubbed him down.

  When she’d finish tending him, she patted his rump and smiled. Cera left him on his own to graze, but Ash wouldn’t go far.

  Jorrin strode to her and took her hand without a word, dropping a kiss on her cheek. She smiled and leaned into the arm around her shoulders as they headed back to his father.

  Braedon gazed at them, a soft smile on his face.

  “I would like a bath,” Cera said.

  “The water will be cold,” Avery warned, striding over.

  “I don’t care. I want to feel clean.”

  “I’ll see if I can snag a rabbit or some other small game. Meat for a meal would make us all feel better. Then I’d like to wash up in a bit, myself. I’m sure everyone would,” Braedon said.

  The others murmured agreement.

  “I’ll start a fire,” Hadrian said from the doorway of the castle’s ruins. “The hearth isn’t what it used to be, but it should be fine for us.” His expression was wry. “Nothing much to burn, anyway.”

  Braedon chuckled.

  Jorrin exchanged a glance with his father.

  “I’m going to see if I can communicate with my mother,” Avery said. “Will it interfere with your masking spell?” he asked Braedon.

  Cera’s heart ached with worry over her Aunt Em, but she ignored it.

  “Hadrian can show you how your spell won’t interfere with mine,” Braedon told her cousin.

  Avery nodded and disappeared into the ruins.

  “I guess I’ll go with you,” Jorrin said to his father.

  Braedon nodded.

  “I’ll go then,” she told father and son. “See you in a bit.”

  Cera trotted off to dig in her saddle bags for clothes and soap.

  Trikser was on her heels, and she threw him a grin as she bundled breeches and a clean tunic in one of the soft linen drying sheets Hadrian had given her.

  She clutched the pudgy roll close, shivering at the thought of the water.

  It’d be chillier than the air, but feeling clean was going to be worth it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cera quickly bathed in frigid water.

  Trikser lay on the shore, wagging his tail whenever she caught his eye.

  She shivered.

  Need to hurry before I freeze solid.

  Hearing a noise in the woods, she glanced over her shoulder, paranoid that someone would see her naked in the lake.

  Someone being Braedon or Hadrian, really. Avery wouldn’t bother her, and Jorrin . . . well, she’d love to have real courage to be naked with Jorrin, but one kiss and she was a goner to him. So it wouldn’t take much to get over insecurities.

  Shaking her head, she grinned to herself.

  Her bondmate was a great guard, though. He’d alert her to anyone’s presence.

  Trikser was still relaxed, his head resting on his paws.

  She rubbed soap into her hair.

  Clean would make her feel better.

  When her hair was adequately scrubbed, she dipped her head under the water.

  Shuddering, she wrung her hair with her hands, trembling as water droplets hit her shoulders and back. Her teeth chattered.

  Cera finished washing and sped to the shore.

  Need to get warm.

  Grateful that Hadrian had given her two bathing sheets before they’d left, she wrapped herself in one, rubbing her body vigorously.

  She reached for her clean clothes, fighting the tremor that shot down her spine as she donned undergarments and jumped into fresh breeches.

  Yanking the tunic over her head, Cera banished the last chilled quiver and was lacing the front of her jerkin when Jorrin called her name.

  He waved as he approached the shore of the lake.

  When he pressed a kiss to her cheek as he reached her side, Cera shivered for a different reason.

  Trikser did a long body stretch, groaning. He sneezed, causing them both to laugh. When he came closer to them, he wagged his tail at Jorrin.

  Cera grinned and patted her bondmate’s head, letting her love take her hand and interlace their fingers. “Hunting trip successful?”

  “Yes. Two large rabbits. Hadrian’s cooking them. Braedon’s handy to hunt with. He uses magic.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, he taught me a thing or two.” Jorrin winked.

  She laughed and he tugged her into his arms. Cera sighed into his chest. Her heart thudded against his, and she wanted to bury herself in his arms forever. “Want to take a bath?”

  “Is that a hint that I need one?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Cera averted her eyes, her cheeks burning.

  “I was teasing you, love.”

  Cera mock-glared.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Her heart quickened. The quick touch wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted to sink into him, but it wasn’t the time. If Jorrin claimed her lips properly, it’d only leave her aching for him.

  She wished they had true privacy. Cera wanted to sleep in his arms like the night in Hadrian’s barn. She wanted to be warm and safe, and be with Jorrin. Wanted to give herself to him. “I have soap.” Rushing her words, she swallowed hard.

  “All right, all right, I’ll bathe.” He held his hands up.

  Cera kissed him.

  Jorrin yanked her back to him, burying his hands in her wet hair to hold her closer.

  She moaned into his mouth when he deepened the kiss. Warmth settled low in her belly, and she forgot all about the freezing water as the rest of her body heated.

  Wrapping her arms around him, Cera kissed him until her knees weakened.

  He held her up, pinned to his chest, and she ended the kiss, burying her face in his neck and panting.

  So much for not letting myself get swept away by him.

  Especially when she’d started it.

  I love you, Jorrin thought-sent.

  Cera lifted her head and met his half-lidded sapphire eyes. “Good.” Slipping out of his arms, she handed him her soap and the other drying linen. He made an attempt to grab her, but she eluded him, laughing. “We have Hadrian to thank for the bathing sheets.”

  Jorrin nodded, gripping his tunic and lifting it. At the first expanse of bare, defined abs, heat crept up Cera’s neck. Her cheeks seared, because she couldn’t look away. Her feet were frozen in place.

  One dark brow shot up, but wickedness flashed across his blue gaze when he tossed his shirt to the ground.

  Leave. Leave now.

  Her feet would not obey.

  Still looking at her, Jorrin bent over and started to unlace his boots.

  She tried not to stare at his bare chest, but her eyes traveled up and down his body. Her fingers needed to follow suit. Needed to touch him.

  Cera hadn’t had nearly enough the night they’d spent in Hadrian’s barn.

  His chest was beautiful—broad, yet lean, leading to a trim waist, displaying prominent abdominal muscles. Nearly hairless, with only a small path of dark curls beneath his navel disappearing into his breeches. His well-defined muscles rippled even with the slightest movement as he undressed.

  Jorrin’s strong arms begged for her hands.

  Cera had never seen him fully naked, but if she stood there much longer, she’d get the chance.

  He met her eyes, hands on his open breeches. “I had no idea my love was a voyeur.” Jorrin laughed, his eyes daring her.

  The slight breeze shifted his dark hair, hiding one of his tapered ears for a moment. Color lit his high cheekbones, a teasing smile curved his full mouth.

  She panted, struggling for breath as longing settled over her. Her body trembled, desire throbbing low i
n her belly.

  Stay or go?

  She wasn’t naïve enough not to recognize physical desire just because she’d never been with a man.

  Cera wanted Jorrin, and he wanted her just as badly. If she stayed on the shore, maybe he wouldn’t tell her it wasn’t time like he had in Hadrian’s barn.

  The look in his eyes scorched her as much as one of his kisses.

  “I love you,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Well . . . I’ll go. Give you some privacy. I’ll call you when the meal is ready if you’re not back by then.”

  She jogged away from him, Trikser on her heels.

  Coward.

  ****

  Jorrin chuckled and shook his head as he watched her go. She hadn’t even given him the chance to assure her that he didn’t want or need privacy from her, but Cera wanted him.

  She’d made no attempt to hide her desire, her passion for him.

  Even if he didn’t have empathic magic, the look on her face would have made him hard as a rock—which happened to be his current state of discomfort.

  His blood was singing, and he’d only kissed her once. Jorrin wished he could’ve taken the time to make love to her, but the shore of a lake wasn’t any better than Hadrian’s barn.

  It’d killed him every time he’d had to stop her exploring hands the few times he’d held her. Chiding himself to stop kissing her before he got swept away was becoming too-normal—and left him burning for her.

  He shed the rest of his clothing and shivered as he stepped into the frigid water. At least the lake would cool his ardor—maybe.

  When he rejoined everyone at the ruins, entering what used to be the castle, Avery was speaking in serious hushed tones, so Jorrin quickened his step.

  Was he missing something important?

  The younger man had drawn a diagram of what had to be Castle Lenore in the dirt at his feet; Braedon and Hadrian were studying it.

  Avery was gesturing to various points on his map and shaking his head. His face was white as a sheet.

  “What’s wrong?” Jorrin asked.

  “My mother’s locked in her rooms. She doesn’t know where my father is. She can’t cast, they have some sort of spell on her . . . or her rooms. It took them three days to break her protection shield and get in. Varthan was very, very angry. He killed our family’s entire personal guard.” The younger man’s tone broke; Avery was fighting back a sob.

  Jorrin glanced at his father as Braedon rested a comforting hand on Avery’s forearm.

  Braedon paled, his expression pained. Jorrin was suddenly glad he was not as much of an empath as his father.

  “I will kill him.” Cera joined them by Hadrian’s fire. She had her magic sword clutched in her hands and her cheeks were tear-stained.

  Trikser was right behind her, but he was wary, tail between his legs.

  Jorrin turned away from the sword so it couldn’t affect him, but he could already feel the tug of its magic. He blocked it out as best he could.

  “They were good men. I’ve known most of them from childhood.” Avery had tears in his eyes. “I know their families . . .”

  “Your mother wasn’t put in any danger speaking with you?” Jorrin asked, trying to take Avery’s attention from the men. His heart ached for Cera’s cousin and his father, who was affected by what they all were feeling.

  “No, she said the shade who guards her is all brawn, and the weakest in magic, from what she can tell. She thinks his name is Athas. She said there are only four, and he’s not at her door at all times. They must have confidence on the spell over her rooms.”

  “Four? That’s all?” Jorrin asked.

  “Yes. They work together. The one the bastard keeps at his side is the real danger. She said he’s very young, but very powerful. Varthan thinks he’s the key to breaking the spell on the sword.”

  “I will kill him,” Cera repeated.

  She was so wrong about that.

  He would handle it, but now was no time to argue with her.

  Jorrin grabbed her arm and tugged her down onto a large log that had been dragged inside for seating. He threw an arm around her shoulders as soon as they were seated, but she was taut against him. “Cera, relax. It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek.

  Trikser whimpered, but lay at their feet.

  She glanced at Jorrin, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips as she put down the sword. “Thanks,” she whispered, but her expression was distant.

  Trikser pawed at her feet.

  Jorrin absently put his hand out and stroked the wolf’s head, freezing and staring at the soft white fur under his fingertips. He made eye contact with Trikser for a split second, but turned away. He wasn’t making a challenge for dominance and wanted Trik to know that, but Cera’s bondmate licked his hand and wagged his tail. Jorrin bit back a gasp.

  Cera looked at Trikser, then at Jorrin and smiled. She relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “He says he’s accepted you, lad,” Hadrian said, smiling.

  Braedon also wore a soft smile.

  The interruption was a mood lifter for them all.

  Jorrin took a breath and scratched Trikser’s ear until the big wolf leaned into his leg. “That’s great. We can really be a team, now.”

  Cera grinned, patting his thigh and giving her bond a good scratch behind his other ear. You’ll spoil him to death now, she thought-sent.

  Jorrin grinned.

  Trikser had rarely growled at him lately, and he’d wagged his tail in his direction quite a bit. Acceptance was good. He could get closer to them both.

  Cera would have Trikser for life; they might as well like each other.

  “But what else did your mother say, Avery?” Jorrin asked.

  “Varthan didn’t kill my father, she’d feel it if he was gone; but she’s afraid he’s been injured. She can only sense him some of the time, but it could be the spell.”

  “He can’t get off on me watching Uncle Everett die if he’s already killed him, so I agree with Aunt Em. He’ll use them both to get the sword. And he won’t try to kill her until he decides whether or not he can use her magic to his advantage.” Cera took a breath.

  Jorrin squeezed her against his side, wincing as her fears and grief hit his magic. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and shield her from all this.

  Avery nodded. “She thinks so, too. That’s why she was untouched and left in her rooms. He didn’t even try to beat her, which surprised me. Knowing his infamous temper and since it took so long for them to gain access to the castle.”

  “The king should’ve been alerted by now,” Braedon remarked.

  “You think?” Jorrin asked, glancing at his father.

  “A whole Province deserted? I should think so,” Hadrian said.

  “Yes, I already told Cera and Jorrin my father sent word the same day I left to find her.”

  “Don’t you think there should be an army arriving then? We were at Hadrian’s almost a fortnight . . .” Cera mused.

  “Well, now King Nathal has definitive proof of Varthan’s actions,” Braedon said. “One would think he has enough evidence to have him put to death for all the murders he’s committed alone. Not to mention his . . . other crimes.” His father shot a look at his love.

  Rape was unsaid.

  “King Nathal won’t have to kill Varthan,” Cera said. “I’m going to run him through.” She thrust her sword forward, her jaw locked, full lips in a hard line.

  The sword’s magic swirled, making Jorrin’s head spin. He blinked.

  “Lass, have you ever taken a life?” Hadrian’s tone was gentle. The look on her face was all the answer the elf needed. “I thought not. Let Braedon and me handle Varthan.”

  “You don’t need blood on your hands, dearheart,” Braedon added in the same gentle tone.

  “I’ll kill him,” she vowed, bra
ndishing a fist. “I will kill him. He killed my family.”

  Braedon and Hadrian exchanged a look, but said nothing more on the matter.

  “My mother said Varthan rarely leaves the great hall. All the servants he didn’t kill are forced to wait on him and his shades hand and foot. I’m sure he’s taken liberties with the girls as if they were willing bar wenches.” Avery growled.

  Avery’s family probably cared deeply for and took great care of all those who served Castle Lenore. Cera had told him the same was true of those in service to Castle Ryhan and Greenwald. Cera and Avery were some of the most unusual nobles he’d ever met.

  “I have to admit the numbers are much more equal than I had imagined,” Jorrin mused as Avery pointed out the various locations on his diagram in the dirt.

  “They are highly trained shades and malicious,” Hadrian admonished. “They have no conscience. They’ll kill you with a spell before you can even prepare yourself for it, lad.”

  “Plus they are trained with the sword as well,” Cera said. “Varthan loves to make them well-rounded, dutiful little minions.”

  “Mother is sure the youngest is the true threat, but she noticed he cowers even when Varthan isn’t directly addressing him,” Avery said.

  “That may work to our advantage.” Hadrian scratched his bearded chin.

  “Blessed Spirit knows what kind of things he’s witnessed at Varthan’s hands,” Cera said. “He gets them any way he can. As soon as someone senses their potential, he buys, kidnaps, kills their parents—whatever it takes. Even if this boy is young, there’s no telling how long Varthan’s had him. Turns, if he’s one of the elite. Maybe from infancy.”

  “We can’t let Varthan use him to break the spell. Especially if he’s as powerful as my mother senses.”

  “Then we take him out first,” Braedon said.

  “I agree,” Hadrian said. “Stun him and get him away from Varthan.”

  The breath Cera had been holding erupted from her lungs. She relaxed against Jorrin when the elf referenced stunning the boy. Her eyes were wide, she gnawed her bottom lip. Jorrin’s magic only told him she was apprehensive, but he didn’t miss the look Braedon shot her. What had his father caught that his powers hadn’t?

  “My lady, a tender heart does not have a place here. Fear is one thing, but it doesn’t mean the boy would hesitate to kill you.”