How the Warrior Claimed (Falling Warriors Book 2)

by Nicole René

  Castic heaved an angry sigh and faced them with a brooding look.

  “What were you thinking!” Leawyn yelled.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Watch it,” Tyronian warned him. Castic’s eyes flashed up to him before he looked down, his insolence dimming a bit.

  “You were supposed to be practicing,” Leawyn said.

  “I was!” Castic burst out, meeting their eyes again.

  “Then why did you get in a fight?”

  Castic scowled, which looked adorable. A little growl escaped his lips. “Because I saw him talking to Garnette!”

  Namoriee and Leawyn exchanged startled looks while Tyronian snickered, cutting off with a cough when Namoriee elbowed him in the stomach sharply.

  “Castic,” Leawyn said, bending down to his eye level. “Why would him talking to Garnette cause you to react that way?”

  “Because I don’t like it,” Castic snipped grumpily.

  Namoriee looked around, and sure enough, she could see Garnette a few paces away, watching them anxiously. It wasn’t uncommon to see Castic’s childhood friend following him around like she was an extension of his shadow. She must have been waiting for him to finish training.

  “Garnette is mine—my friend,” he corrected quickly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at her.”

  Leawyn’s eyebrows were practically to her hairline at that admission, and though Namoriee was a bit worried about his vehemence, she couldn’t help but twitch her lips in humor.

  “Be that as it may,” Leawyn started dryly, once she recovered, “you’re training to be a warrior; you have to be responsible. Karneer doesn’t know how to fight like you.”

  “I know,” Castic replied seriously. “That’s why I hit him. I wanted him to remember me.”

  Tyronian smothered a laugh.

  Leawyn sighed, but Namoriee saw that she was fighting her own laughter. “Go see your chief, Castic. He will decide your punishment.”

  Castic didn’t put up a fight. He simply nodded his head grimly, and they all watched him walk to Xavier.

  “You don’t think he’ll be too hard on him, do you?” Namoriee asked, suddenly worried for Castic. Xavier had stopped practicing at Castic’s appearance and now seemed to be listening to him. Xavier was a strict leader; she couldn’t imagine he would be too pleased to know that a fight broke out.

  “Not likely,” Leawyn snorted. “I have a mind that he would congratulate him rather than scold him.”

  “I would,” Tyronian agreed, grinning. He chuckled when Leawyn punched his arm in response. “He made his claim on his woman! T’was what any warrior would do. I know I did,” Tyronian growled the last part in Namoriee’s ear when he pulled her into him. She stiffened at that and was vaguely annoyed that her heart spiked at the admission.

  No, Namoriee, she scolded herself. You cannot like his possessiveness. He forced you into marriage, and you dislike him. You’re simply biding your time until the deal is over.

  If only that were true. With each day that passed, her feeling of resentment for her husband was dwindling, turning into something far more powerful.

  “Remind me why I agreed to this again?” Namoriee mumbled, fighting her yawn.

  “Because, my husband is a moron who doesn’t see the value in women other than impregnating them and making them fat.”

  There was a decidedly bitter pitch to Leawyn’s tone. Namoriee eyed Leawyn as she drew her bow back with savage intent and released. The arrow made a whistling sound and then a hard thwack when it imbedded itself into the bark of the tree, right in the center of the makeshift target.

  “Perhaps this isn’t the best time to practice.”

  Leawyn shot her a look. “Do you want to learn how to protect yourself, or not?”

  Wisely, Namoriee kept her mouth shut. It seemed to satisfy Leawyn because she set down her bow and started to lay out the different bows on the ground for their students. They had been meeting in secret for months now, after Xavier had flatly refused Leawyn’s request to start training female warriors.

  “Women fighters have always been a part of our history!” Leawyn had said. “It is because of men like you that the tradition has died.”

  “And why do you think that is?” Xavier had growled back at her, irritation clear on his face as he glared at the tiny spitfire that was his wife.

  “Because you’re a bigot who can’t handle the fact that women might have more of a purpose than spreading our legs and letting you shove your cocks inside to breed your evil, dimwitted spawns!”

  It got blurry after that, as Namoriee was swiftly ordered to leave them alone, which, in her experience, meant that they were about to have another loud session of their lovemaking. She didn’t know what it was between them, but Xavier almost seemed gleeful when Leawyn defied him, even if he was annoyed with her, while Leawyn seemed to take pleasure in whatever Xavier dished out as punishment for her insolence.

  She couldn’t understand how a marriage that mainly consisted of fighting worked, but it did for them.

  The problem with their secret training sessions was that they were only able to do it in the middle of the night, which meant Namoriee had to sneak out of her hut. Tyronian was a light sleeper, and he kept at least one part of his body draped across hers, which meant that she couldn’t even sneeze without him knowing about it. It was the same for Leawyn, so she couldn’t understand how she was able to sneak out all the time. When she asked her, Leawyn had given her the most devious smirk, one that didn’t look like it could belong on such an angelic face.

  Namoriee almost felt sorry for Xavier, because surely he didn’t know how wicked his wife was able to be—like drugging his evening drink so that they could practice the ancient art of woman warriors behind his back.

  Not that she was any better, because she had started to do the same to Tyronian.

  She still felt guilty about that.

  A twig snapped to their right, but they weren’t alarmed, assuming it was one of their trainees. They never expected to see Garnette, though.

  “What are you doing out of bed?”

  Garnette shot Namoriee a toothy grin, revealing her missing front tooth. “I want to learn how to be a warrior.”

  Leawyn and Namoriee shared a look. How did she know?

  Namoriee shook her head, gesturing to Leawyn as if to say You handle it. This was your idea. To which Leawyn responded by widening her eyes dramatically, her lips pursing as if to say, I don’t want to handle it, I could never say no to her.

  They continued to argue with each other silently until Namoriee sighed in defeat and crouched so that she was eye level with the eight-year-old.

  “Garnette,” she started, her tone gentle. “You can’t train with us. You’re too young.”

  Garnette’s face scrunched up, a mixture of a pout and an angry expression. “Castic told me he started to practice for his time in the Warrior Choosing when he was littler than me, and he shoots good,” Garnette pointed out.

  “Yes, but that’s because he’s a boy.”

  Garnette straightened, a look of determination on her face. “Lady Leawyn fought in a war. I heard my pa say that she’s the best with the bow, and she’s a woman.”

  Leawyn made a weird choking sound, and Namoriee was stumped for a moment because she made a valid point, but before she could attempt to save the direction of the conversation, Garnette continued.

  “Castic says that he’ll protect me always, because he loves me, but he’s training to be a warrior, and if I don’t too, he’ll forget about me,” Garnette said solemnly.

  “Garnette,” Namoriee said softly, grabbing and holding the child’s hands. “I don’t think Castic will ever be able to forget about you.”

  Garnette looked away, biting her lip. She brought her attention back, but this time she looked at Leawyn, her voice growing stronger.

  “I heard what everyone said about you. You shot the bad man who tried to attack us and saved the chief. If I learn, then
maybe . . . maybe I can save Castic, too. I want to learn, Lady Chief. Please let me.”

  Namoriee’s heart just about shattered, and she couldn’t help but sniffle a little, blinking against the liquid that started to make her eyes misty. She heard Leawyn sigh from behind her and moved out of the way so Leawyn could take her place. The lady chief bent, as much as her stomach would allow, and looked at Garnette with grave seriousness.

  “You mustn’t tell anyone, Garnette,” Leawyn told her.

  “Not even Castic?”

  “Especially Castic,” Leawyn stressed. She smoothed back Garnette’s hair, which was becoming long and curly. “This is our secret. How do you think Castic will react if he were to find out?”

  Garnette paused thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t like it if I could get hurt. He says that when I get hurt, it makes him feel sad. That’s why I try really hard to be a good girl, just like Momma tells me, so that he won’t be sad.”

  Garnette paused again, then, “But even though I don’t mean to, I am bad because I’m too curious, which will make boys not like me because I don’t listen and won’t make a good wife someday unless I get help.”

  “Who said that?” Namoriee asked, offended on her behalf.

  “Karneer. That’s why Castic punched him.” Garnette looked sheepishly up at Leawyn from beneath her lashes.

  “Castic got punished because of me, but when I tried to tell the chief that, he said that Castic was protecting my honor, and that it would make Castic upset if I tried to take his punishment in his place. I didn’t want to do that, because I don’t like when I make Castic upset.”

  This was all said in about two breaths, and Namoriee was a bit amazed that Garnette could talk so fast.

  “Xavier said that?” Leawyn asked, a small, dreamy smile quirking her lips.

  “Oh, yes.” Garnette’s hair swished back and forth from her nod. “He said I need not protect Castic when he’s a warrior, but that I should be there for him when he’s a man. Though, he didn’t tell me what that meant when I asked him. So, I kind of just agreed with him because the chief was being nice. And that, like, never happens,” Garnette stressed in conspiracy, eyes wide.

  Namoriee glanced at Leawyn, startled to see that she was crying.

  “Err . . . Leawyn?” Namoriee asked awkwardly, looking between her and Garnette, who seemed scared that she’d done something wrong.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just—” Leawyn sniffed. “I can’t believe after all this time, he finally—” A half cough, half sob escaped her, but she rallied herself. She was still weepy when she locked eyes with Garnette.

  “I want you to promise me that you’ll remember what he said Garnette, alright? Even when you get bigger, and the seasons change, you don’t ever forget. Do you promise?”

  Garnette nodded, but still looked confused. “But I don’t understand what he meant.”

  “You will,” Leawyn promised, wistfulness juxtaposed in her tone with sadness. “One day, you will.”

  Leawyn turned to her, already starting to take off the leather guards on her wrist. “You take over for tonight. Keep them practicing on form.” She tossed the leathers to Namoriee, who clumsily caught them.

  “Where are you going?” Namoriee spluttered, watching Leawyn with her mouth agape.

  “I need to figure out how to wake my husband. I suddenly have the desperate urge to show the brute how much I love him.”

  Namoriee snapped her mouth closed with an audible pop. She watched the darkness swallow Leawyn until only the crickets remained talking.

  “What does that even mean, show him?” Garnette piped up from beside her, shattering the silence. “How does she do that? Can’t she just say she loves him?”

  Namoriee quickly started her training after that, because no way was she going to go near that question.

  “Avoiding me again?”

  Namoriee winced, hearing the disappointed lilt in the masculine voice that spoke from behind her. She turned to face him.

  “No?”

  His lips twitched, as if fighting a smile. He moved over to her, cocking a brow once he stood in front of her. “You really gonna go this route again?”

  Gentle fingers nudged her chin up when she looked away, frowning in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  What’s wrong is that time was escaping her. The days were blurring together in one big, blissful stream, and Tyronian was doing everything right.

  He was gentle with her, caring. She knew firsthand how profound his desire was for her, yet he treated her like a precious jewel he didn’t want to tarnish. He was so demanding two years ago; he made sure she knew that he had staked his claim, and that she wouldn’t escape him nor have a choice in the matter. He warned her that she was going to be his the moment after her eighteenth winter. He was the being lurking in the shadows, patient and watchful for his time to strike.

  She was fully prepared to hate him—she’d counted on hating him—but she didn’t.

  She couldn’t

  He made it nearly impossible. It was maddening, and it frightened her. She needed space to think, so she went to the only place she knew she would find solace.

  “How did you know I would be here?”

  He grinned, glancing around at the small space of the now vacant hut. “I knew you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, so Aggod and Leawyn were out. Once I saw you weren’t with the horses, I thought, ‘What would be the farthest place away from the village that Namoriee would escape to?’” He encompassed the space around them with his hand.

  “That leaves your old hut.”

  “You think you know me well, then?” Namoriee scorned, moving to brush past him. But strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her. His look made guilt taste bitter.

  “Did I do something to upset you?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Everything is wrong!” She wrenched her arm out of his grip, taking several steps back.

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything! For the love of Goddess Ianna, how can you even ask that?” She rolled her eyes. “You stalked me! You followed my every move, butted into every aspect of my life since I was sixteen! You were so far down my throat, you made it impossible to breathe without the taste of you!” She laughed, but it was anything but humorous.

  “You forced me to marry you. You took away my free will and made me agree to a bargain that I regret!” Her throat grew tight and her eyes prickled, but she continued. “You didn’t let me live!” The last part was a scream.

  It became deathly quiet between them. The weight on her chest lifted, and with a horrified gasp, she realized what she just did. Her resentment and fear escaped their bonds of silence that she’d shoved them into, and she combusted.

  She’d just spilled her darkest secret.

  She risked a glance at him and felt her stomach bottoming out at the blank expression on his face. She stumbled back when he stepped towards her.

  “Tyronian, I-I d-didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t,” he stopped her. She could hear the pulsing darkness in his tone. “Don’t you dare think about lying to me right now.”

  She started to tremble, physical evidence that she was fighting her urge to run. The last time she had seen this unemotional calmness was during the Warrior Choosing, when he had challenged Cantos and chopped off his head.

  It was terrifying.

  She couldn’t help but flinch when he brought his hand up. It was the wrong move, because if anything, his blue eyes darkened with more ferocity, nostrils flaring.

  “Do you really think I would hit you?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Answer me!” She jumped when he slapped the wall beside her head with his yell. She hadn’t realized that she was backing towards the door.

  “When have I ever given you the impression that I hit women?” he growled, his anger practically tangible.

  “N-Never,” she whispered.

  “Never!” he shouted, making her jump again. “I have never
hit you, nor will I ever. So, don’t you ever flinch like that again, do you hear me?”

  “I’m s-sorry,” she choked out. She didn’t know what else to say.

  He pushed away, taking several steps away from her, visibly trying to compose himself. She looked away and stayed where she was, hugging her arms to herself.

  “You hate the smell of sage.” She looked up, surprised, and he pinned her with his gaze. “Sage is one of the main properties Aggod uses when she heals . . . you hate the smell of it. Your nose would scrunch up just the slightest bit, and you would try to hold your breath.”

  He took a step towards her. “You were thirteen when you came into womanhood, and you were terrified. I sent Lisswix to you, and she gave you clothes to wear and explained everything. Your favorite food is chicken, and you hate lamb but eat it anyways.”

  He continued to step towards her with each evocative fact he revealed, and Namoriee was rooted to the spot, powerless but to listen.

  “You love the sound of water. You like green fabrics, and your first kiss was with me because I made sure that no one else would take it.” Her chest was heaving when he finally stepped in front of her. He caged her in with his arms on either side of her head as his palms slapped against the door.

  “I threatened to slice Hunt’yr’s throat when he was sixteen because he started to take an interest in you. I know that you don’t believe in love because you were abandoned as a child.” He said the last part gently, and her lip trembled with emotion.

  “You’re right,” he whispered, tracing the column of her throat. “I stalked you, followed your every move. I manipulated your future so that it could only end with us being together. Maybe you deserved to make your own choices, but frankly, I think even if you could have, you still would have chosen me.”

  “I deserved the chance,” she bit out quietly. He was making her feel guilty, and it wasn’t fair. He sewed together beautiful words that were as scary as they were sweet.

  “Maybe,” he agreed, then his eyes changed, reflecting something almost sinister. “Would you prefer I be like Xavier?” he asked, his tone deceitfully light. “Would you rather I hurt you? Make you bend to my will forcefully?”