“As did I.”
She met his gaze. “Then we both failed.”
He approached her, examining her expression. He wished he had the insight of the Dawn Children. He didn’t have a clue what she was thinking. He could only imagine what he would feel if their positions had been reversed. But thinking about her watching him swim half-naked made his cock twitch again. “I am sorry I didn’t reveal myself sooner.”
“You didn’t reveal yourself at all.”
He startled. Did she intend the double meaning behind her words? To his surprise, she smiled.
Ilythra shrugged. “I am not so modest as all that, and I am aware that men are stimulated by a female’s naked body. There is no shame.”
“I think you misunderstand. I am not ashamed because of my reaction to you. I should have revealed myself sooner. And I do not react to every female’s body.” He had never reacted to any female like he did to Ilythra. But then, he’d never met anyone like her.
“No? So it couldn’t have been anyone in the river this morning? There are many women in this camp, some of them quite striking, and you have been away from female companionship for a while. Haven’t you?”
He shook his head. Did she think his response was only physical? But something in the way she said it caught his attention. She wasn’t as unaffected as she appeared to be. He was tired of games. It was time for honesty. “There is only one you.”
She brought her chin up and he sensed her guard as well, but her eyes searched his. “Did you find the peace you were seeking?”
“No. Far from it.” He stepped closer. Her gaze found his and locked. He reached out and gently traced the line of her jaw. “I don’t think you know how beautiful you are.”
She closed her eyes. Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I am a warrior.” Ilythra’s voice had lost its strength.
“You are a woman too.”
Her jaw trembled, and he noticed her hands did as well. She’d opened her mouth to speak when voices carried from the path. She turned in that direction, and something snapped closed that had been opened. “Here come some of those women now.” There was a sense of defeat in her words he didn’t understand.
Ryliann cursed the timing but followed Ilythra’s gaze. Four women crested the rise that hid the camp from this part of the river. They were a little downriver and giggling among themselves.
“If we were Rugians, they’d be dead,” Ilythra said.
Ryliann looked at Ilythra. The healer watched the women with a mixture of what looked like admiration and disgust.
“They are not warriors.” She turned to leave.
He reached for her hand. A spark of awareness traveled up his arm from even that touch. Ilythra glanced at their joined hands as though she felt it too, but when she met his gaze, her eyes were shuttered. Was she thinking about the kiss?
“They would be dead if not for you,” he said.
“No, Prince Ryliann.” She shook her hand free and glanced once more at the women. “They would be dead if not for you.”
Ilythra grabbed her bag and strode down the path, disappearing from view.
“Oh!”
Ryliann turned back around to see the four women had neared the water. They were all staring at him.
A dark-haired woman approached. Her large brown eyes softened. “Are you wounded? Can we help you?”
Ryliann shook his head. “No. I was talking with Ilythra.”
Her eyes hardened for less than a heartbeat. She smiled and then brought her hand to her mouth. Something about the motion seemed a little deceptive. “Oh, my. I know you. Prince Ryliann.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”
“Martina.” She curtseyed. “We’ve met several times before, the last in Edriel.”
Ryliann inclined his head. He remembered now. The Feast of Adune. “Martina.”
She stepped closer. “My friends call me Tina.” She openly examined his body. “You certainly don’t look wounded. Are you really leading the resistance fighters?”
Ryliann cleared his throat. His manners had also grown slack, but then, he seldom had time or patience for niceties even in the best of times. “I’m not wounded. It is nice to see you again, Martina.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. She blushed. “I’m here to speak to the new arrivals.”
Martina curtseyed again. The gestured seemed strange out on the plains. He couldn’t imagine Ilythra curtseying. Had she when she’d met him in Edriel? It seemed like ages ago. “Exile agrees with you.” Martina tilted her head and stared into his eyes. “You have only grown more handsome.”
Ryliann acknowledged the compliment with a nod but glanced toward where Ilythra had disappeared. He wanted to finish their conversation.
Martina quickly introduced the other women. Her hand fluttered to her hair. “I am so embarrassed for you to see us this way. We were just about to wash.” She pointed toward the river. “I’m glad you’re not wounded.” She stepped even closer so that the heat of her body brushed against his skin. She grasped his hand. “But if I can serve you some other way, Prince, please let me know.”
Ryliann took a deep breath. He had enjoyed the occasional flirtation with women at court, and this woman was obviously an expert, but he didn’t have the energy or interest to pursue it. “Forgive me, ladies. But I must return to the camp.” He pulled his hand away from Martina’s grip and nodded to the others. He’d already forgotten their names.
How could he have ever been interested in empty flattery or women whose biggest concern was a new dress or how their hair looked? He shook his head as he walked away. He found he craved the genuineness he found in Ilythra. He would rather have a clever insult from her than a thousand compliments from a woman like Martina.
If not for the war, things might be different. He took a deep breath. Ilythra had washed over him like a refreshing rainstorm, and he was dying of thirst without her. This. This was what his father had been talking about all this time. One thing he knew, he needed to see her again.
* * *
Ilythra scrubbed the clothing with more force than necessary. Her hands were red and chafed from the hot liquid and harsh soap. She’d tried to stay busy since leaving Ryliann at the water’s edge, but a peculiar restlessness plagued her, and even at midmorning, she flitted from task to task without accomplishing anything. Had Ryliann returned, or was he enjoying the gentle feminine company of Martina and her group of women? As often as she told herself it didn’t matter, it should have become true.
When she’d discovered Ryliann watching her, a fire of pure pleasure had kindled low in her belly. At the look in his eyes, the pleasure had turned to desire. She brushed a hand over her stomach as though to dissipate the desire that even thinking about that moment conjured. He was a prince. And although she was a stone keeper, he was far above her station. He needed someone like Martina. Pretty and useless, but with all the skills and acceptance he’d require in a wife. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts. She needed to concentrate. She’d accused Ryliann of being too long without a woman. Perhaps she’d only been too long without a man. Arien had once accused her of remaining celibate to punish herself for falling under Bredych’s sway. She didn’t know if that was true. No man, not even Tobar, leader of the Heleini, had affected her like Ryliann did. It was maddening. The best thing she could do would be to stay far away from him.
The thunder of horse hooves chilled Ilythra’s blood. Two or three horses only. Not an attacking force. She threw the tunic into the sudsy water and loosened her swords in their sheaths. She quickly moved through the camp to examine the horizon behind the tents where she’d heard the horses. She couldn’t see the area near the river. Where was Ryliann? She drew the swords.
As though her thoughts summoned him, he walked over the rise and into the huddled group of buildi
ngs and tents. She knew the exact moment he saw her. It was as though a current ran through her body.
She didn’t sheath the weapons. “What is it?”
Ryliann glanced around, and she took the cue. She replaced the swords and led him behind the healing tent where she’d been washing the clothing.
“I received a message from the south. They found one of our men beaten and naked in the middle of a field. He lived for only a short while. It was a mercy. A message had been burned into his flesh.” Ryliann swallowed. When he looked up, sorrow filled his eyes, turning them a brilliant green. “Bredych issued a challenge. He wants me to meet him in battle, or he’ll kill every man, woman and child his men can find.”
Shock radiated through her body, numbing her hands. For a moment, she could only stare. She must have heard him wrong. “He wants you?”
Ryliann blinked. “Is that so strange?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. There is some kind of deception here. If he defeats you, the resistance receives a blow it might not recover from. The Dawn Children will truly be on their own...but he will not recover the stone. I think it’s a diversion.”
Ryliann ran his hands through his dark hair. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you simply assume he will defeat me.”
Alarm filled her. “You’re not considering his challenge? He doesn’t play fair. He’s dangerous.”
“What choice do I have?” he asked.
“He’s a stone keeper. He defeated the strongest Rugian leaders. Have you learned nothing about Crioch?”
“You defeated him.”
Ilythra’s heart thundered. Ryliann couldn’t be serious. “Not in hand-to-hand and not one-on-one.”
“Would you meet him if he’d challenged you?”
She hesitated. The answer was yes and by the look on Ryliann’s face, he knew it too.
“Then why would you expect me to do any less?”
But the truth of the matter was she couldn’t meet him one-on-one. The stone keepers couldn’t battle each other for the rights to the other stone. To do so would be to destroy the stones. But there were ways around it. She could direct an army against Bredych. She could do everything except hold the sword that slayed him. But Bredych could do the same. Once again she relived razor-sharp rocks thrusting from the earth, heard the howl of wolves Bredych had used to slaughter the army during the battle of Greton. He was ruthless and had no boundaries. Nothing was off-limits to Bredych if he thought it would gain him victory.
Ilythra stared at Ryliann. His eyes were not as weary, yet he still looked tired to her. For a moment, she imagined what it would be like if things were different. If she were just a woman and he was just a man. She could take him to her tent, love the tension from his body and let him sleep until peace resided in his gaze.
She focused on the floor.
“There’s more.”
Ilythra looked up. Her mouth dried. “What?”
“There was a man wandering in the wilderness half-wild with hunger and thirst. At first, they thought he was mad and bound him. After several days, he began to speak coherently.” Ryliann raked one hand through his hair. “His name was Dima, once commander of Bredych’s army.”
“Are you sure? He could be lying.”
“I considered this, but one of my men recognized him. He was who he said.” Ryliann grimaced. “It seems he fell out of favor with Bredych and fled. Only he didn’t count on the bandits he helped create. He was robbed, beaten and left to die.”
“And you let him live?”
“He bargained for his life. He knew where the enemy’s camp was located. They sent spies to the area. Bredych has moved toward the northwest, near the Lansky valley.”
“You said his name was Dima. What happened to him?”
“He went mad. At least that’s what I heard. They found him...” Ryliann paused. “He mutilated himself. I don’t know where he found the knife. He bled to death.”
Ilythra stared into the distance. Once again she could see Tarak, Mohan’s brother. The skin from the left side of his face had partially covered his mouth; his cheekbone had gleamed dully in the morning light. His eyes had been gauged out and his chest and arms slashed until his clothes bore the color of his life’s blood. Her knees buckled and the world wavered.
Ryliann caught her by the elbows and held her against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She distanced herself by an act of will. That simple contact had felt like home. Like Ryliann offered a comfort she had never known. One that wasn’t hers to accept. He kept hold of her elbows. She breathed in the clean smell of sun, leather, horse and Ryliann’s own spicy scent. Ilythra gently tugged her arms away. “I’m okay. It was just something Bredych has done before. To a friend’s brother.” She took a step back to further dispel the desire to let him hold her. The need to draw strength from his arms. She lifted her chin. “When do you leave?”
“Ewen plans to break the Rugian siege of Alerra. He wants to use that fortress as a base.”
“And a place to retreat to if things go bad.”
Ryliann nodded. “If he defeats the Rugians, it will also eliminate a surprise attack at our rear. I will meet Bredych in combat if only for the slightest chance I can end this. But I also think something else is going on. I’m sending word to my men south of the Tir Rhos. They’ll meet up with our southern troops and join together. Bredych’s armies are marching toward us from the west. If we divide our forces, we’ll have a two-pronged attack.”
She shook her head. “And be weaker for it. I’d counsel keeping your men together. Where is Arien?”
“He was meeting with the Benai.”
“The Benai. Mohan?” Ilythra leaned forward.
“Who is Mohan?”
“A friend.” She missed him. He could always make her smile no matter the situation.
Ryliann paused for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “Mohan is the Benai leader.”
Ilythra shook her head. “No. The Benai have no leader. He is rallying them together.” Pride filled her. Mohan had done what even he’d considered impossible.
Ryliann’s jaw worked. Finally, he let out a breath. “You’re right. The Benai are creating havoc for Bredych from the mountains to the plains. They’re harassing columns, destroying the army’s provisions just enough that Bredych is beginning to take notice. If he sends troops that way, there will less for us to contend with here. I will keep my men together.”
“Can the Benai handle a full attack?”
“That is what Arien went to determine. Apparently from the rumors, the Benai are shadow warriors, much like the Dawn Children have been.”
Ilythra smiled. “When do you leave?”
Ryliann’s smile abandoned his face. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to know. I need to rearrange watches, redistribute duties.”
“I’m not taking all the men. As good a job as you’ve done with the women and boys here, the camp is too open. You need men to defend it.”
“And you need men to defeat Bredych.”
“We will defeat him here too.” He closed the distance. His warmth caressed her body. She couldn’t forget the security she’d felt in his arms. Her lips trembled at the remembered kiss. “Ilythra.” His eyes shone dark green.
“Oh, excuse me.”
They looked up.
Martina stood with her arms full of clothing. “I just had more to wash, but if you’re busy...” She trailed off.
Ilythra indicated the pile of clothes near the tent. She didn’t look at Ryliann. “I’m going to check with Cappi. We have to increase the watches.” She walked away.
* * *
Sunlight streamed into the mountain pass, highlighting every rocky crag the terrain had to offer. Ewen shielded his eyes from the sun, turn
ing toward the warriors who followed. He motioned to them with his hand. His voice would have been lost in the roar of the falls.
Silently, they took positions behind the enemy camp. Ewen picked out a few Rugians patrolling the canyon’s ridges. He heard one of the guards shout. A snow hawk call sounded throughout the canyon, followed by the swish of an arrow in flight. The guard fell silent.
Built on top of a mountain, Alerra was formidable. Only one road, barely wide enough for a single cart, wound up one side of the mountain. Ramparts had been built halfway up the hill, and blackened walls and crumbled parapets spoke of her battle to remain free of the enemy encamped on the plains.
Ewen focused on a haphazard array of tents surrounding the city. Huge siege machines sat under the open sky, vulnerable to flaming arrows. He shook his head. There would be no honor in this victory. With a word, he sent his men north and south to surround Bredych’s Rugians. Ewen reached for his mount’s neck, patting the nervous animal. A sense of helplessness unfamiliar to the Riege assailed him. Ewen willed his attention back to the besieged city. Ealois lay warm against his chest. He touched the pendant and opened his mouth to give the signal. The call of a snow hawk pierced the early morning air, followed by a sound like the rustling of feathers as thousands of flaming arrows fell upon the enemy.
* * *
Ryliann watched Ilythra walk away. She didn’t look back. He muttered a curse.
“I can see how she would be fascinating in a peculiar kind of way. I know I’ve never met a woman like her.” Martina stood near the pile of laundry. She’d folded her hands at her waist, and Ryliann was fairly certain she knew the position displayed her abundant cleavage. She stepped closer, her dark eyes soft. “But she’s not the woman for you. You’re a prince. You need someone softer.” She ran a hand down Ryliann’s shoulder to his elbow. “Prettier.” Her other hand rested on his chest. She stood on her tiptoes. “Someone younger.” She pressed against him until he had no doubt of her feminine assets. “Once this war is over, you’ll need a woman to stand next to you in court, to give you children. Not a quasi-woman who is good with a sword.” She giggled. “There are all types of swords, Prince Ryliann,” she whispered in his ear as her hand traveled from his chest down his stomach. “I’m very good with another kind.” She trailed her lips down his neck.
Journey of the Wanderer Page 26