He gaped over his shoulder at her, eyes wide, but lowered his blade to the ground and raised both hands above his head in surrender.
“Go, lass,” he growled as the first soldier approached him and delivered a savage blow to his side, knocking him to the ground.
She bit her tongue to keep from crying out and bolted for the forest.
He was safe, for the moment, and so was she. Now, she had to find a way to rescue her centaur.
Or die trying.
***
Agrius grimaced as one guard yanked his head by the hair, wrenching his gaze to the lead soldier.
“Where is the Lady Eione headed, centaur scum?” the leader growled, crossing his arms.
Damn, they had identified her. Glaring at them, Agrius held his tongue. Eione would be safe so long as he disclosed nothing. That was all that mattered. She was all that mattered.
Let these Lapith bastards do to him what they would.
“Don’t feel like talking, centaur?” the leader jeered. “We’ll loosen your tongue.” He waved toward one guard. “Bring him to the command post.”
Agrius grunted and stumbled forward while they lugged him toward a cabin about a mile away. They tossed him into a corner room, hands and legs bound. The arrow they loosed had pierced him and remained pinned inside his right hind leg, crippling him.
He hung his head. They’d been so close. Bloody hell. They should have scouted better, then they would’ve detected the long-range archers. Not that anything short of armor would have aided them.
Eione is safe, he chanted in his mind, the words lending him comfort. His brothers would care for her. They’d scent him on her and know she was his.
He’d counted at least a dozen guards surrounding the cabin. Mayhap once they pulled this arrow from his leg, he’d no longer be lame and he could fight them.
The door cracked open and a Lapith male sauntered inside, cracking his knuckles. “Now, centaur, you’re going to talk.” He removed a cloth bundle from his side and set it upon the table, metal instruments glinting in the dim light.
Agrius squinted. Tools, for making horseshoes.
Torture. He winced.
The man spun, wielding a hammer and a nail puller.
Ignoring the instruments of torture, Agrius lifted his chin. These men seemed not to have realized one very important fact.
No one broke a centaur.
***
Eione paced the forest toward the outpost, murmuring prayers to Artemis. She had to rescue Agrius, but how? Ought she to race to his brothers and recruit them?
She still carried the chest of coins. Could she hire mercenaries?
No, no. Each option wasted precious time.
Her father’s men would undoubtedly torture Agrius. Likely were at this very moment.
Dropping her head into her hands, she fought back tears. They’d dragged him to an outpost. Perhaps she could create a diversion and draw the soldiers out. She carried a full quiver of arrows and, thanks to her gift from Artemis, possessed seamless aim. There couldn’t be more than two dozen men. It might work.
She might fail, too. They’d both die.
The notion of Agrius’s death cut into her, pain lancing her chest. Groaning, she sank to her knees.
From the forest to her right, a rumble mirrored her groan. Eione froze, glancing in that direction from the corner of her eye.
Gleaming orbs glittered from the trees, a low grunting rolling through the forest.
More than one.
She dared a glimpse and gaped at the two dozen beasts trampling through the woods. Their ivory tusks gleamed in the moonlight, the points sharp as knives—and the feral glint in their eyes intent on proving it.
They ignored her, trudging past as though she were but a rock in their flowing river, and headed straight for the outpost.
Sweet Artemis. She clapped a trembling hand over her mouth, uttering a silent prayer of thanks to the goddess. Wild boar were sacred to her and she must have sent them in answer to Eione’s pleading.
The beasts were nearly as large as she, and those spiked tusks could tear a man in half. They squealed as they passed the forest line, charging toward the outpost.
Eione waited, stringing her bow.
Shouts arose from the enemy camp while the boars attacked, goring their victims.
She sprinted to keep pace with the tail end of the group, hiding amongst the beasts and breaking free once they neared the cabin. After dashing to the side, she pressed her spine against the logs and scanned to ensure no one had spotted her.
Guards scattered, their screams rending the air.
She stole along the side of the cabin and peered around the corner to the door. One guard remained at his post, loosing arrows at the boars. She aimed her bow and released the arrow. It sailed straight into the guard’s chest and he collapsed to the ground. Eione strapped her bow over her shoulder and withdrew her blade instead, stealing inside the cabin.
Darkness enclosed the chamber. No sounds of movement. Oh gods. She could not be too late. “Agrius?” she whispered into the empty space.
Grunting and scuffling thumped from behind the door of the far room. She snatched a sword from off the table and smashed the lock, kicking the door open.
“Eione?” Agrius’s pained whisper called from inside.
“Yes, it’s me.” She darted forward and crashed straight into his arms.
“Argh.” He groaned and she pulled back.
“Are you injured?”
“Nay, I’ll be well now that this arrow is out of my leg.” He held up the arrow, dripping blood. “You shouldn’t have come. Now, we’re both dead.”
“No, shh.” After pressing a finger to his lips, she tore a strip of cloth from her shirt and wrapped it around his leg. “We’re both getting out of here alive.” She tsked at his wound and winked at him. “My wicked centaur, how many times do you have to be shot before you’ve learned your lesson about trespassing?”
Agrius blinked at Eione in dazed confusion. His head spun from the pain of plucking the arrow. The moment screams had sounded from outside the camp, he’d made use of the distraction to charge his captor, impaling him onto the table of torture instruments.
“Apparently twice, but I’ve a thick skull.” He grinned, crushing her into his arms. “Pray tell, what’s happening outside?”
“What do you think? I’ve saved your hide.” She smirked at him.
“You saved me?” His heart thumped inside his chest, swelling with affection for this dazzling female. He stared at those full pink lips and couldn’t stop himself from sampling them.
She moaned beneath his kiss, but pushed back. “We must hurry. I’m not sure how long the boars will hold them off.”
“Boars?” He arched a brow, but she clucked, urging him from the cabin.
“Long story. I’ll explain later.”
“Right.” No need to convince him. He scooped Eione onto his back and sprinted from the cabin, through the meadow.
Toward home.
They cleared the tree line marking the centaur border. Agrius slipped Eione off his back, shaking his head in disbelief and elation. He squeezed her to his chest, pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head. Her sweetly scented locks drove his horse into a frenzy, reminding him they weren’t home, not yet.
He claimed her lips once, for that was all he dared, and planted her on his back again, galloping forward. “So, boars?”
“Yes,” she hummed against his ear. “Artemis sent them to me. She must approve of our match.”
“Artemis?” He stumbled to a halt and twisted around, frowning.
Eione shrugged but cast him a mischievous smile. “First, she granted me my gift, and now, because of my allegiance to her, she has saved us both.”
“Aye.” He scratched his jaw. “Mayhap.”
Eione kicked her feet into his sides. “Take me home, Agrius.”
“Happily, Agrotere.” He winked at her and galloped through the forest. Each
of King Cheiron’s five sons ruled over a stretch of land surrounding the King’s palace in Great Meteoron. Agrius’s castle of South Glen lay seated atop the southernmost Meteora.
In his centaur form, the journey took merely a couple of hours. Before the dawn broke, he dashed onto his lands, galloping straight to the Portal that would transport them to the castle at the top of the Meteora. “Welcome home, Lady Eione.”
She slid off him and he grabbed her hand, squeezing. He nodded at the guards standing post and led her into the Portal. The gateway shimmered and swept them upward. Eione wobbled for an instant, until he steadied her. “Never been through a Portal?”
“No.” She groaned, clasping her head in her hands.
He rubbed her shoulders while she regained her composure.
His housekeeper, a Lapith maiden, rushed toward them, curtseying. “Welcome home, milord.”
“Thank you, Agava. Will you please show Lady Eione to a guest chamber?” He unclenched his fist at his side. His horse wanted nothing more than to toss her over his back again and cart her off to his bed, but his mate would likely prefer the opportunity to bathe and freshen herself from their exhausting journey.
Agava ushered Eione away. He stared after her, memories of bathing in the river together heating his flesh.
Tempering his beastly nature, he strode to his chamber, peeled off his dusty clothes, and snatched a cloth from the basin to wash.
After bathing, he poured a glass of brandy and sank into the armchair beside the blazing hearth. The warmth from the flickering flames soothed his nerves. He rubbed his chin. If he claimed Eione as his mate, his family would stand behind him. Doing so would also place them in danger.
Yet, the Lapiths positioned armed men along their borders, suggesting a sinister cloud on the horizon.
His mate was worth every risk. The moment she’d stormed inside the cabin, a fearless and capable beauty bold enough to rescue him from a slow, tortuous death, he’d known.
Eione meant so much more to him than the bonding could ever encompass.
She was the perfect pairing of his heart and soul.
One thing was certain. King Cheiron must be informed of this new development.
After Agrius returned from the meeting, what would happen next?
He scratched his jaw and grinned into the flames. Well, perhaps his mate would have something to say about that.
***
Eione paced the length of the quaint chamber where she’d bathed and dressed. The housekeeper, Agava, had been sweet and polite, and full of praise for her master. The female had been born in Lapith lands, but her family had moved to centaur territory when she’d been younger.
According to the girl, the practice was not uncommon. The centaur lords had a reputation for being far more just than their Lapith counterparts.
In her village, the girl claimed, no one starved.
How different and wonderful. Yet, no matter where she lived, Eione would never forget her subjects. She’d determine a way to send them aid, somehow.
Wringing her fingers, she stepped to the window and glanced out at the rising sun. The majestic castle grounds a thousand feet below caught her breath. The estate rose above a misty line of clouds. Below her, exotic gardens stretched to the stone walls, wound into an intricate maze.
Agrius had declared his intentions to make her his mate, but would she also become his wife?
Dare she trust her future in the hands of someone who remained, in many ways, a stranger to her?
These people, their customs, were foreign to her. While they seemed welcoming, she missed her family. Her brothers Antion and Dryas. Like her, they hadn’t yet been tainted by their father’s corruption. What would happen to them?
Would they view her escape as abandonment? Betrayal?
She scanned the blushing horizon for answers. Artemis had guided her along this path, had saved both her and Agrius’s lives. Have faith.
The moment Agrius had urged her to escape capture in that meadow, he’d convinced her of his worth.
But it was the instant she’d glimpsed him in that back room, alive and not dead, that her heart had made its choice.
I want him.
A tap rapped against the door. She stiffened as it opened, Agrius striding inside and closing the door behind him. “I trust Agava tended to you?”
“Yes, thank you.” She linked her hands behind her back and faced him. Her heart pounded inside her chest; she longed to run into his arms, yet now that they were safe, uncertainties crept into her mind.
What if he no longer felt as he’d declared earlier?
What if he’d changed his mind, determining her to be too great a risk?
“Eione,” he purred, stalking forward. He seized her about the waist, drew her close, and slanted his mouth across hers. An unhurried kiss that ended far too soon, with him sighing and resting his forehead against hers. “As much as I hunger for you, sweetling, I think it best we take this slowly. You should rest and I must inform my father of our situation.”
She stiffened, those concerns rising and pinching her chest. “Have you changed your mind? You said I am your mate, but you had no choice in this either. I will free you from any obligation, if that is what you wish.”
“What I wish?” He snorted, chuckling. “Eione, darling, I couldn’t be more elated to have you as my mate. Yet the choice must also be yours. We’ve been running for our lives for weeks.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be right of me to force our bonding on you until you’ve had a chance to clear your head and choose…me.”
“Oh, Agrius.” She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I have chosen you, don’t you see? From the moment I decided to save your life, I knew you would change mine.”
“For the better, I hope.” He winked.
“For the best.” She laughed. “Make no mistake, this is my decision and I choose you. But you are right. Consult with your father, and when you return, I will be here,” she trailed the tip of one finger down the middle of his chest, “waiting for you.”
***
Agrius had to pry his hands from Eione and depart his castle, his legs trudging forward, begrudging each step. Protocol required he treat his mate with the utmost respect, fulfilling her every whim, and never forcing his attentions on her, but damn. He scraped a hand down the side of his face, then rolled his shoulders. Preventing his horse from tossing her over his shoulder and carting her off to his bed demanded every ounce of his restraint.
It drove him to the edge that she seemed more than willing.
His left bicep burned and ached, the lyssa hovering above him like a threatening cloud. He would weather this storm, as he had so many others, for Eione was the calm beauty in its wake.
In his centaur form, the journey to his father’s castle on Great Meteoron took but a mere couple of hours. Enough time to clear his head and his heart. How could Eione even muse he wouldn’t desire her for a mate? She was everything he’d never dreamed of. Brave, fierce, kind, compassionate, and possessing a wicked humor that would surely drive his horse to blissful madness.
He strode through the village below Great Meteoron and climbed the circling path to the Portal. Seated atop vast, alabaster cliffs, the palace was the largest of the six centaur castles in Thessaly. Its grandeur never failed to inspire awe in Agrius, and to remind him of his mother, Queen Atalante. She’d been one of the rare Kentaurides—female centaurs—her horse half as pale and brilliant as these cliffs.
He’d lost his mother and his brother Thereus; he’d not lose Oreius as well. Though Cheiron also suffered the loss of his mate, he’d made peace with his grief.
Agrius patted the flask in his pocket. He’d sent word to Oreius to meet him.
On the other side of the Portal, Agrius marched into his father’s Great Hall, bowing before his wise sire. “Father.”
“Agrius.” Seated upon his ivory throne, the pearl-flanked centaur King inclined his head, waving for Agrius to rise. “What news have you brough
t us, son?”
Hector, Cheiron’s heir and a blue dun, stood stoically at his side, dipping his head toward Agrius in greeting.
“Ill news, I’m afraid.” He stepped forward and unwound the scroll map he carried. “I have recently uncovered Lapith guards along our borders. Armed sentinels, Father, who disregard the treaties. When I attempted to cross the border into our lands, they shot me and would have tortured and killed me had I not escaped.”
“Shot you?” Hector frowned at him, stamping one hoof. “Father, we cannot allow their actions to—”
“Enough, Hector.” Cheiron held up a hand against his brother’s concerns and studied Agrius. “Why did you cross the border without my permission?”
“I, ah…” He scratched his jaw and cleared his throat. “I retrieved sacred waters for Oreius.”
“What waters?” Oreius marched into the chamber, scowling in his usual brooding manner. The silver dapple had rarely cracked a smile since the death of his mate, Sarra.
Agrius withdrew the vessel from his vest pocket. “A nymph told me these waters will cure your grief.” He bowed his head, extending his arms and offering the flask balanced upon both palms.
“I have no need for a cure,” Oreius sneered. “My mate is dead. How dare you to even—” He whipped his head, cutting off his objections.
“Oreius, my son, your brother is concerned for you,” Cheiron murmured gently. “As are we all. Accept the gift he risked so much to retrieve and consider the offer.”
Muttering under his breath, he plucked the flask from Agrius’s grasp. “Very well, but I shan’t have use for it.”
As much thanks as he’d anticipated. Agrius nodded at his brother, then faced his father. “I did not cross the border alone. Along my journey, I encountered a maiden. A Lapith noblewoman, the daughter of Lord Macareus. She mistook me for a stag and shot me, but then healed me. Her family arranged a betrothal she did not wish for, so I…” He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. His father might very well command him to restore Eione to her family. “I aided her escape.”
“Agrius.” Cheiron tsked. “Where is the lass?”
“At my castle.” He expelled a deep exhalation. “Father, she refuses to return to her lands, and I would…”
Wicked Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 3) Page 5