Bride by Midnight

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  Half wolf-shifter and half Isen Demon? There were other demon shifters, he knew. He already had one in his possession; a thin, dark-haired girl who shifted into a large cat at will and was also quite the talented seer. But to possess a daughter with true Anwyn blood... If such a creature existed, he wanted her.

  If the Isen Demon’s warriors had been able to produce male children, what would they be like? More trouble than they’d be worth, Volker imagined. Girls were easier for him to manipulate, whether they were poisonous Ksanas or powerful shifters or simply possessed some odd bit of magic. There was still so much to be learned about the Isen Demon’s offspring. So much power and beauty to be discovered.

  “Should I provide an escort?” Volker asked? Woe be to any thief who thought to rob or injure the wizard before him, but Volker wanted to make sure that Stasio felt valued. That he warranted a handful of sentinels to guard him on his travels.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Good,” Volker said to his second in command. “I’ll see you in two weeks, then.”

  Stasio did not leave, though Volker’s words were definitely a dismissal. “Your Princess has been asking for you.”

  “I have other concerns at the moment.” Volker looked down at the papers on his desk, studying his itinerary for the upcoming trip.

  “She says the witch and the blade are making their escape. They are moving away from Arthes.”

  Wasn’t that a good thing?

  As if Stasio had read his mind—and perhaps he had—the wizard went on. “They will only grow stronger if not stopped now.”

  Volker stood, and in frustration slapped his palms against his desk and leaned forward. “Why are my girls so afraid of a mortal man and a common witch?”

  Stasio shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know, but they are, and when I meditate and reach for truth, I sense great power in the witch.”

  Until now, Volker had been quick to dismiss the girls’ worries about the witch and the blade. He had so much on his mind. But if Stasio sensed great power... perhaps there would be a use for it in the coming days. Could this witch also become a part of his army? Could he use her? “How do you suggest we proceed?”

  Expressionless, as always, Stasio gave a quick bow. “As it happens, I have a plan in mind.”

  ***

  In spite of her bad memories of the forest and the witch who had frightened her on the road so long ago, Lyssa found beauty as they traveled south. Everything was so green, and colorful flowers grew in the most unlikely places. More than yellow, here. Purple and white and red, too. She didn’t see much in the way of wildlife; just a few butterflies and small birds and one brave rabbit—which looked delicious, she had to admit—but she did, on occasion, hear rustling leaves as something larger than a rabbit moved away.

  As long as it moved away and not toward...

  She was thankful that she’d been wearing sturdy boots instead of her pretty slippers when she’d instinctively run away from Edine. Her moss green dress was torn and dirty, her hair was in tangles, and her stomach growled in hunger... but her boots were holding up well. If she expired along the way, a bag of muddy bones and a hank of unmanageable hair, at least her footwear would be intact.

  Her stubborn husband remained behind her, walking silently in her wake. She’d tried to send him away—for his own good—but he ignored her and continued to follow, keeping his distance.

  Why? He did not love her, of that she was certain. Did he still see her as his way into the palace? Did he plan to use her newfound magic to take his revenge? This would be so much easier if she had not fallen in love with him, if he was just a thief and a murderer, a man who had no use for her but for his own revenge.

  But there was more to him, more than even he knew.

  After a while he moved closer. There was nothing to be done about that, since his legs were much longer than hers and she could not out-walk or outrun him.

  “We need to find something to eat,” he said.

  “I’m not hungry.” At that precise moment her stomach growled loudly.

  He had the good sense not to point out her body’s reaction to the word eat. “We have a long walk ahead of us, and we must have food. If you had let me go back for provisions...”

  “No.” She stopped, spun to look at him. “It isn’t safe for either of us to return to Arthes. I told you that.” When she thought of turning back she saw blood. Lots of it. She couldn’t tell whose blood it was, but the very thought of it—this new vision of blood that occasionally formed in her mind as she walked—turned her stomach and made her want to scream.

  “I believe you,” Blade said. “Now, sit and rest while I round up some food.”

  Why not do as he said? Her legs ached and her feet hurt a little, so she walked to a nearby rock and sat. Frightened, hopelessly rumpled, and with no idea of what tomorrow might bring, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, and sat in as ladylike a position as she could manage. Blade smiled at her—he smiled—and then he ordered her to stay put while he disappeared beyond a stand of trees in search of sustenance.

  For a moment she thought about taking the opportunity to run, but what was the point? He would find her, as he had found her yesterday.

  And in spite of everything... she still did not want to be alone.

  ***

  Nuts, berries, wild greens he knew to be edible... considering their situation, it was a veritable feast, though they would soon need meat to keep up their strength. He’d even hollowed out a fallen branch and filled it with spring water, so that Lyssa did not have to walk down the hill to the spring to drink from her cupped hands. She was tired. Terrified, angry, lost... and exhausted. It was his duty to care for her, to watch over her.

  To save her as he had not been able to save his mother or his sister. He would not be late again; he would not let Lyssa out of his sight from this point forward.

  That didn’t mean he’d given up his quest to kill Miron Volker, it just meant his plans would have to be delayed. But for how long? He had no idea.

  More. Lyssa had said that together they were more. Like it or not, he had begun to believe that she was right. His world was larger than it had been when he’d arrived in Arthes with no goal but to kill Volker. It was also more complicated, but there was nothing to be done about that. It seemed more urgent, right now, to explore this new possibility with Lyssa.

  She devoured the nuts and berries, and nibbled at the greens. She drank from the crudely fashioned cup, and then she sighed and lifted her eyes to him.

  “You really can go,” she said softly. “Not back to Arthes, but... I do not want you to feel obligated to take care of me. I can find my own way to the sea and from there...”

  “From there what?” he asked when she faltered.

  “I don’t know. One step at a time.”

  Blade stood, brushed some dirt from his trousers and then offered Lyssa his hand. After a brief hesitation, she took it, and he pulled her to her feet. Cupping her face in his palms, he looked deep into her eyes and said sternly, “You are my wife, and I will not let you loose in this forest, or on any road, or in any village.”

  “But...”

  “I don’t know if I make you more than you were or not, but you have awakened something in me that I can’t deny. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.” That was the raw truth. He didn’t have to like it, because his feelings didn’t change anything.

  “It’s not like we’re truly man and wife. We—”

  “We were married by a priest, the marriage was consummated, and we have lived together in our own home. No couple is more truly man and wife than we are.”

  “I do wish you would stop interrupting me.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She bit her bottom lip, briefly, as she considered her answer. “No, you are not wrong, but neither of us intended for this marriage to be real. I know very well you did not plan to keep me. You used me.”

  “You used me.�
� He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck. “Intentions aside, we are man and wife. Perhaps... perhaps I will survive and decide to keep you.”

  Her breath came hard all of a sudden. Her heart pounded, as it always did when he was close. He felt her reaction because they were so close, because he knew her so well.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why would you even think to keep me?”

  “Because I desire to do so.” He wanted to live, to make babies with Lyssa, to sleep with her every night. He wasn’t certain he could make that happen, but he wanted it—badly. He also wanted Volker dead. That had not changed. Could he have everything he wanted? Was that possible?

  He took Lyssa’s face in his hands and made her look him in the eye. “There’s something I must tell you. You have to know why I can’t let Volker go.”

  She nodded once. “ Volker, that’s the name of the man you traveled so far to kill. He murdered your sister.” Her words were gentle, a comfort and a caress.

  “Yes.” Blade set his jaw. The pain never lessened, and he had to fight to say the words. They came out in a growl. “She was eleven years old.”

  Lyssa gasped.

  “And she was one of the demon’s children.”

  She leaned into him, placed her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. No words would heal such a deep and terrible pain, so she offered none, but her touch was a comfort.

  He didn’t push her away, but instead accepted the closeness, the offered comfort. And when they parted he once again took her face in his hands, and his mouth descended onto hers. He had not intended to kiss her, but she was right there and he needed that touch.

  She kissed him back, parted her lips and brushed the tip of her tongue against his. Silent, telling tears ran down her face. These salty tears he tasted were not tears of sadness or anger. These tears stemmed from power, from beauty.

  There was desperation in their kiss, passion and pain and longing. But there was also something else. Something that might be called love.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blade walked beside her now, instead of behind as he had earlier in the day. Lyssa liked it; she liked being able to reach out and touch him if she felt as if she might stumble. And they’d been walking for such a long time that stumbling was a definite possibility.

  She’d never expected that he might care for her, but he seemed to. He’d never used the word “love,” but then neither had she. Not aloud, anyway. But he was here. He’d stayed even though she had tried to send him away. Was it really magic that kept him with her? Or could he actually be basing his decision on free will? If she had to be a witch, she wished she could control whatever powers she might possess. It would be nice to know what was in his mind and his heart.

  She was dirty and her hair was a mess, and still he had kissed her after he’d told her about his sister. It had been an amazing kiss. A real kiss. Surely there was some sort of magic involved. Why else would he want to kiss her when she was so incredibly unattractive? Last night’s lovemaking could be excused, since it had been dark and he hadn’t been able to see any better than she had, but to kiss her by the light of day, to stay with her in spite of who and what she was...

  Why had he not shunned her as Edine had done? Why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to be rid of her? She had the uneasy suspicion that it must be some sort of witch’s magic that was beyond her control.

  They walked some distance from the well-traveled road, but had found themselves on a rough path of sorts. It lead them in the right direction, or so Blade insisted, and the travel was easier than if they had tried to forge their own trail. They were surrounded by ancient trees that towered above them and younger trees struggling to find the sun. Earlier they had encountered some gentle hills, and Lyssa was grateful that the path was now relatively flat. They passed the occasional clearing that revealed signs of other travelers. The remnants of a fire here; the bones of a long ago supper there. They saw no one. That was no surprise, as most travelers would stick with the road. Birds and small animals rustled the leaves of trees and low bushes; she had stopped jumping at every sound a while back.

  Blade talked about what he might catch for their evening meal and where they might camp for the night. Lyssa listened, but she was distracted. Her thoughts were solidly on her husband, on magic, and witchcraft. And on that kiss...

  Without even a whisper of warning, four large men wearing sentinels’ uniforms stepped out of the woods. Lyssa was frozen on the path, shocked into stillness, but Blade reacted instantly. He threw himself toward her, protecting her from the first attacker, a stocky man who moved on her in complete and unnatural silence. The attackers’ boots made no noise on the forest floor; she did not hear any of the men breathe, didn’t hear even a rustle of clothing. It was like a bad dream, so much so that for a second she wondered if maybe she’d fallen asleep and none of this was real.

  No, this was far too real.

  Blade had a knife; she had a newfound magic she did not understand and could not control. The four men who surrounded them had swords, shining blades that did not belong in the quiet safety of the forest, and at this moment the power of their weapons seemed to be stronger, more real, than any magic she might muster.

  Blade’s much-too-short dagger should have been all but worthless against the sword that swung in their direction, but it was not. He moved with an almost unnatural quickness and grace. As he fought, feinting and stabbing and trying to draw blood and drive the silent man back, another moved toward her. But Blade was fast, and he was strong. He defended her against two simultaneous attackers surprisingly well, drawing blood and keeping the attackers’ blades away from her.

  But then the other two moved in, and the balance of power changed. Blade could fight against two, but four... He had no chance against four men with swords. Trained fighters who made no sound as they moved...

  Until Lyssa touched them. One soldier grabbed her from behind while Blade pushed another back, and suddenly she heard a boot among fallen leaves, heavy breathing. Her healing power had lifted whatever dark magic gave the swordsman the gift of silence.

  Once she realized that her touch robbed them of their magical silence, she attempted to lay her hands on them all to ensure that Blade could hear when one of them moved behind him. But that knowledge and her actions came too late, and the ability to hear them was not enough to outweigh their advantage in number and in weaponry. Blade drew blood, but so did they. His arm, his thigh, and finally his torso, very near his heart.

  She watched as a sentinel’s blade pierced his chest. Blood bloomed on his shirt, quick and dark. He fell, and Lyssa heard herself scream as one of the attackers grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her away.

  She managed to wrench herself from his grasp and fall to the ground, her hands splaying on Blade’s chest. There was so much blood, and he was so still... was he already dead? No, no, his chest rose and fell. His heart beat beneath her hands; it had not been pierced by an attacker’s sword.

  “I love you,” she whispered, pressing both hands to his chest. She’d never tried to heal before, not like this. Madam Azar’s knee had been entirely accidental. The healing of Edine’s hand had been instinctive. In both cases the healing had been quick, almost instantaneous, but neither of those wounds had been like this one. Deep. A killing wound. She searched for the green light and had almost found it when one of the attackers grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She was dragged away from Blade, her bloody hands ripped from his chest.

  He needed her. At last she could help him with the magic she’d found. She could save him if only she could touch him. One more time.

  “Please, let me say goodbye to my husband,” she pleaded as she stumbled back, falling clumsily into the man who held onto her tightly, too tightly. “He’s dying!” She had barely touched him. Was it enough?

  “No,” the man who dragged her away said. “We have our orders.”

  “From who? What kind of orders?” Her h
eart thudded dangerously hard and her breath would barely come. “I’m no one. I’m nothing!” Blade was getting farther and farther away. She could no longer tell if he was breathing or not. He didn’t move, not even a twitch of a finger. “Why are you doing this?”

  No one answered her. The stocky man dragged her away from the path, away from Blade. She tried to fight, but the man who had captured her was strong, solid. Her struggles were useless. She screamed. Once, twice. At first the sentinels seemed not to care, and then one of them—she could not see his face—said in a passionless voice that if her screams drew anyone to them, if anyone tried to help her, the would-be rescuers would be killed as her husband had been killed.

  Lyssa believed the threat. She had no doubt about their potential for violence, so she went silent. She tried to walk, as they led her toward the road she and Blade had been avoiding, but her steps were too short and the solid man continued to drag her along. She was panting by the time they reached a clearing where five horses waited. One for her and one for each of them, she noted. Had they intended for Blade to share a horse with her or walk? No, they had never intended for him to survive to this point. They had intended all along to kill him.

  She breathed deeply when she was finally allowed to stop. Her head spun, tears trailed down her cheeks and still her heart pounded too hard. But she didn’t have very long to mourn Blade or feel sorry for herself. Her hands were bound, a rough gag was fashioned over her mouth, and she was unceremoniously and roughly thrown over a horse’s saddle. She had not begged for mercy for herself, and it was too late to beg for Blade. But as she landed on the saddle, hard and rough, a new thought flashed through her head.

  Don’t hurt my baby.

  ***

  Blade could feel the ground beneath him, but he could not move. He was dead, had realized he was dead as soon as the sentinel’s sword had sliced into him that last time and torn his insides apart.