by Gwynn White
THE END
Author’s Note
Axel and I thank you for reading Warlord’s Wager, the second book in the Crown of Blood series!
I hope you enjoyed being part of this world as much as I loved creating it. Even if you downloaded the book for free from my website, I would be grateful if you would leave a review for it on Amazon. It really helps to get the word out.
I have included the first few pages of Crown of Blood, the third book in the series, just to whet your appetite. If you’d like to know more about new releases, including this one, you can sign up for my newsletter at www.gwynnwhite.com.
As always, I have a few people to thank for this book. Firstly, my husband, Andrew, and my daughters, Stephanie, Erin, and Kate, who offer their advice so unstintingly. They also put up with distracted answers to questions, space gazing as I dream up plot twists, and ready meals on my cooking nights. I could not do it without you!
Also, my editor, Monika Holabird, who knows how awful this book would have been without her services. My cover designer, alerim, never fails to enthrall me with her imagination and talent.
Finally, you, my readers, who make writing a joy. I love hearing from you, so please feel free to chat to me on: Facebook, Pinterest, or at www.gwynnwhite.com.
Thanks for reading!
A Sneak Preview of Crown of Blood
Chapter One
“Why does my father always come on my birthday? Every year, always on my birthday.” Knife in hand, Talon looked up at Uncle Tao from the trout he was gutting. “Do you think he does it on purpose to ruin the day? Because if he does, it’s working.” He wiped his bloody hands on his worn leather trousers.
Uncle Tao quit reeling in his fishing line. He glanced up at the rays filtering through the canopy of trees above the stream. The sunlight made the pea-sized diamond embedded next to his right eye sparkle.
“I have told you at least seven times already, and judging by the sun, it’s only about midday.” He ruffled Talon’s shoulder-length hair. A gray-and-black falcon feather, braided into Talon’s dark hair, brushed his face. He blew it away and glared at Uncle Tao. That won him a smile. “Now stop moaning and finish gutting that fish.”
“One fish isn’t going to feed three of us.” He frowned in defiance at the thought of his father, Lukan, sharing his birthday dinner with him, Mom, and Uncle Tao. “Four of us.” He tossed a handful of entrails into the river with more force than necessary. Dark water splashed up, wetting his already grimy trousers. He didn’t care.
Apart from the annual visit, his father also visited their cottage once a month. At those times, Uncle Tao always took Talon out fishing or hunting, leaving before Lukan arrived and only returning home when he had gone. Never once had Mom or Uncle Tao spoken about these visits, but Talon knew his father came. He had just never bothered enlightening them.
Uncle Tao turned away, busying himself with their fishing rods.
Talon refused to be ignored. “My sixteenth birthday is supposed to be special, but it’s shaping up to be as horrible as last year. And it’s all his fault.”
Uncle Tao picked up Talon’s knapsack. He tossed it over to him, and it landed on the mossy ground at Talon’s feet.
The silence was beginning to irritate Talon. As much as he loved Uncle Tao, he speared him with an icy glare, something he knew from a lifetime of experience always intimidated his uncle a little. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Uncle Tao brushed his braids and feathers off his face and shot Talon a gentle smile. “Maybe you just chose the wrong time to ask your question.”
Talon dropped his knife next to the fish. He stood, arms folded across his chest. But for the first time ever, Uncle Tao seemed impervious to his subtle intimidation.
“Come, Talon. We really have to get going.”
Only Talon’s father ever called him Nicholas. Lumped with that horrible name at birth, at least Mom and his uncle were decent enough to call him by his nickname. Last year, when his father had come for the birthday dinner, Talon had asked to be called by his nickname.
The bastard had refused. It had made Talon despise the man even more.
With that ruined day burning in his memory, he threw out a challenge he doubted Uncle Tao could resist. “Why does my father hate me so much?”
Uncle Tao sucked in a deep breath.
Keeping his face clear of expression, Talon waited.
“You tell me, Talon. Why do you think your father hates you? I mean, he has never harmed you or been rude to you.”
Uncle Tao had the audacity to hedge!
Talon clenched his jaw. “I just know.”
“Not good enough. You know better than to make bold statements without backing them up with facts.”
This conversation was not going the way Talon planned. The facts he suspected that Uncle Tao and Mom knew, and he didn’t, interested him. He had dissected his own thoughts and feelings about Lukan, his so-called father, who only visited him once a year, but the answers he sought were not in his possession.
As part of his pondering, he also longed to know why they never saw other people in the forest. It wasn’t possible that the three of them and his father were the only people in the world.
Or was it? He knew nothing of the world beyond the forest.
He shook his head in anger. That was crazy. The forest was huge, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction on this mountain range. So why did Uncle Tao keep him so tightly controlled in such a small part of it? He studied Uncle Tao, always so serene and calm, wondering if today was the day to confront him for answers.
Uncle Tao’s usually kind face was uncommunicative. Strange for his uncle, considering he never missed an opportunity to teach Talon something—even when he didn’t want to learn it.
“Maybe it’s just a feeling I get sometimes.” Talon stooped to pick up his knife. He made a show of cutting a reed from the bank. He was busy shoving the reed through the fish’s gills to create a handle to carry it with when Uncle Tao’s voice surprised him.
“What do you know about hate anyway, Talon? You live here with your mom, who adores you. There are no other children or people around to be mean to you, and I guess you know I’m pretty fond of you, too.”
Still working with contrived effort at his handle, Talon half-turned and grinned at Uncle Tao. “You adore me most of all.”
“In your dreams. Now answer my question, cub.”
Talon whirled to face Uncle Tao. “I feel it when he looks at me. Even if he’s smiling. It’s a . . . a terrible feeling. It makes my insides crawl, like—” He paused, hating to remind Uncle Tao of the only time he had ever smacked Talon as a punishment, but he had to get his point across. “Like that slug I put salt on when I was a lad. He makes me cringe when he watches me. I hate it when he comes.”
Uncle Tao’s eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth dropped. A long pause. “Well,” he said gently, “he doesn’t come very often.”
More hedging! Talon waved his arms around in frustration. “But always on my birthday—to ruin it. I told you he hates me. Why?”
Uncle Tao held out Talon’s fishing rod. “Enough, cub. No more talk. Take your rod and let’s get going, or we will be late back. Your mom has gone to a lot of trouble to make your birthday meal special for you. And she’s waiting for this fish for that soup you love so much.”
Talon’s stomach rumbled at the prospect of Mom’s fish soup. He scowled, both at himself and at Uncle Tao. One part of him wanted to refuse to move until his questions were answered. But the other side of him that loved his uncle and Mom goaded him to shrug on his knapsack, pick up the fish, and take his fishing rod.
Uncle Tao took off at a brisk pace along the gravelly bank. He cut into the forest, and his tall, leather-clad form vanished between the trees. It was a solid two-hour hike to the cottage through ancient trees, brambles, and fallen logs. Hot work on a summer’s day, even under the tree canopy.
Talon lagged behind.
He had not gone far when Talon heard the faint buzz of a bee hive. He stopped. “Uncle Tao, wait! I can hear bees.”
“No, you can’t,” came Uncle Tao’s muffled reply. “Now move, or we’ll be late.”
Talon rolled his eyes. Lukan’s imminent arrival and all of Talon’s questions had clearly rattled his uncle. Talon had exceptional hearing. Uncle Tao always said Talon’s ears made up for his terrible eyesight. Truth was, Talon saw life in black, white, and gray; no color clouded his vision. Mom and Uncle Tao often joked it was the Winds’ way of reminding him that compromise was good. Talon wasn’t sure he agreed.
“You know I can hear them,” Talon shouted back, barely masking his impatience. He stopped walking.
A few moments later, Uncle Tao reappeared. He sighed. “Okay, Talon. You win. Go and get some honey. But be careful. Bees sting.”
Talon yelped in delight. “Not me, they don’t!”
He burst into a run, scrambling over tree roots and snaking creepers in the opposite direction.
Uncle Tao chased after him. “So when am I going to hear these bees?”
Talon shot him an impish grin. “Trade my ears for your eyes?”
“No thanks.”
They had gone some distance when Talon sprinted to a gnarled beech. He wriggled out of his knapsack and pulled out a scratched glass jar. It had been a present from Mom on his fifteenth birthday, and he cherished it. Especially at times like this.
“Ah!” Uncle Tao grinned as he ran up to join him. “Even I can hear them now.”
Jar clasped in one hand, Talon shinnied up the tree. A dozen or so bees met him as he neared the hive. He started to hum, holding himself steady against the gentle flutter of wings against his cheeks, arms, and hands.
One by one, the bees settled on him. Still humming, he climbed to the hive. Careful to cause as little damage as possible, he extracted a small piece of honeycomb. He changed the pitch of his humming—a thanks to the bees. Grinning against the tickle of wings and feelers on his nose, and at the prospect of the treat, he jammed the sticky, golden treasure into his jar.
Lid secured, he jumped, branch to branch, back down, landing with a triumphant thud. The moment his feet hit the ground, the bees clinging to him took flight back to the hive. Not one had stung him.
Talon held up the bottle for Uncle Tao to see. “Now there’s a birthday present!”
Uncle Tao shook away his bemused expression. “I would give anything to know how you do that.”
“I keep telling you—”
“Yes, I know. You keep telling me you and the bees talk to each other. Talon, I live in the real world, where bees and humans only communicate with stings and smoke bombs.”
“Maybe one day if you stopped being an adult and started being a teenager, you would know.”
For a fleeting second, Uncle Tao looked sad. “It’s been so long since I was a teenager, I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”
It made Talon sad, too. “When I’m an adult, I hope I don’t become all serious and worried all the time, like you and Mom.”
Uncle Tao grimaced. “I wouldn’t count on it. Now please can we go home? Or your mother is going to be even more serious and worried than usual.”
Talon chuckled, tucking his precious honey into his knapsack. “And we wouldn’t want to risk that, would we?”
* * *
Barking greeted Talon and Uncle Tao as they broke cover from the trees sheltering the weather-beaten wooden cottage. Talon smiled and trotted across the dusty yard to a brindled mongrel standing guard in front of the door. Too old and rickety to go into the forest anymore, Thunder never failed to show his disgust that he’d been left behind on yet another adventure. He probably hadn’t stopped barking since he and Uncle Tao had left the cottage that morning.
Talon tossed down his rod and the fish and then bent down to hug him. “I promise, you didn’t miss much. Just one fish and a small jar of honey.” He didn’t mention the rabbits he’d seen on the return trip; that would just upset him. In his youth, Thunder had loved chasing rabbits. “You going to stay with me when he comes? Maybe growl, like you do at the foxes?”
Foxes raiding the chicken coop were an endless problem. In his heyday, Thunder had sent many an intruder packing, but it had been some time since he’d had the strength to go after foxes.
Thunder licked his face with a sandy tongue.
Talon hugged him even tighter. His heart clenched at the thought of waking up one morning and finding Thunder had died. He was irreplaceable. Mom told him that Thunder had wandered up to the cottage just before he had been born. Yet another thing he couldn’t fathom. Why would Mom want to live in a forest with a small baby? And why with Uncle Tao? Where had his father been?
Another sloppy lick from Thunder. Talon scratched Thunder’s neck as a reward. Mom said it was a miracle Thunder had lived as long as he had. A blessing from the Winds.
Talon didn’t know about that. What he did know was that no other dog had ever stumbled on their cottage. So, when Thunder went, he would probably be the last dog Talon would ever see.
Unless his father brought him a puppy.
Talon had asked Lukan to gift him a dog for this birthday at the close of last year’s dinner. Talon wondered if he’d remembered. Or cared enough to bother. Unlikely, seeing as he’d never brought Talon any other presents.
“Talon, get in here with that fish if you want soup tonight!”
Talon looked up at Mom’s face in the tiny kitchen window. He grinned at her. Mom was beautiful. Or, at least, he thought so. He wished he looked like her, but he didn’t. Apart from his blue, or so he was told, eyes—definitely hers—he was the spitting image of Lukan. Same dark hair, same angular face, same blunt jaw.
He hated his looks.
He pushed the thought aside, preferring to think about Mom. Even though she wasn’t related to Uncle Tao—he was Lukan’s brother—she had the same light hair as Uncle Tao did. Like Uncle Tao and Talon’s, the front bits were braided with falcon feathers. Mom said it was a Norin thing. When he’d asked more about Norin, she’d clammed up.
Just one more secret.
The secrets hadn’t worried him when he was younger, but in the last few months, they had really begun to chafe.
Tonight, after my birthday dinner, I’m going to pin Mom and Uncle Tao down. No one is sleeping until they’ve told me everything.
Fortified by that resolve, he gave Thunder one last hug and went inside. The cottage was small. Just one area comprising the living room and kitchen and then three bedrooms. It had originally had two bedrooms, one of which he’d shared with Uncle Tao. Last year, he and Uncle Tao had built on a new timber room for Talon to have his own space. It wasn’t much, but it was his—and Thunder’s.
He paused in the doorway to the sitting area and immediately started salivating. Mom had made his favorite meal—spicy chickpeas and venison stew. He bounded across the wooden floor in the sitting area, dodging a sagging sofa and a scuffed table, to thank her.
She waited next to the wood-burning range for him. A quick smile darted across her harried face and then vanished. “You’re late. He’ll be here anytime now. And you still have to bathe.” She pointed to a couple of pots boiling on the stove. “I have hot water for you. The tub is already in your room.”
He grimaced. Bathing for his father’s benefit was such a waste of time, especially if it meant more work for his mother. He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her cheek. She wasn’t short, but he still towered over her.
“You shouldn’t have bothered. It’s a hot day. I could have bathed in cold water.”
“It’s your sixteenth birthday.” Mom took the fish. “I want it to be special for you.” A quick hug, followed by a gentle shove. “Now, take the water and go. Next time I see you, I want you sparkling.”
“He’s not worth it, you know.” Talon picked up a cloth made of hide they used as an oven glove. He gripped the handles of the closest pot and heaved it into th
e air, then stopped to wait for her answer.
Mom’s jaw stiffened, and her eyes flashed. Never a good sign, given her volatile temper—yet another thing he’d inherited from her. But Mom always got angry when they spoke about Lukan. It was one of the reasons Talon hadn’t broached the subject much when he was younger.
But he wasn’t a child anymore. He had the right to these answers.
“You aren’t bathing for him,” she snapped. “You’re doing it for yourself.”
“Do you think he’ll bring me a dog?” Talon shot back.
Mom’s icy eyes drilled into him, and then her shoulders sagged. She looked sad—much the way Uncle Tao had back in the forest. “Don’t count on it.”
“I’m not. But—”
“Uncle Tao and I asked him to bring you your own fiddle,” Mom interrupted. “A fitting gift for a talented young man.” A pause. “Talon, whatever happens tonight, rise above the situation.” She grabbed his arm, slopping some of the hot water onto the floor. She didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t let him rile you. Be bigger than him.”
Defiance rose like a waking giant in Talon’s chest. He narrowed his eyes and jutted out his chin. “I shouldn’t have to.”
He expected a sharp retort from Mom—they were very similar, and as much as he loved her, they often knocked heads.
She gently ran her fingers down his cheek instead. It tickled the soft scruff on his chin. “I promise you, tonight, after he goes, I will answer every question you have ever had. Until then, please, just be . . . nice.”
Nice.
Did his mother have any idea of what a huge request that was?
But she looked at him with such pleading that he shrugged.
“Okay. I guess I can manage ‘nice’ if it gets me some answers.”
He felt her eyes on him as made his way to his little bedroom. “And shave, too,” she called out. “Just because you live in a forest, doesn’t mean you have to look like a badger.”