She Walks in Love (Protectors of the Spear Book 2)

by Marylu Tyndall

  “I admit to being astonished, Your Grace.”

  “I will not accept failure, sir. I will return to the palace where I belong. With the Spear in hand.”

  “And you will persuade the king to grant me Luxley.”

  “You have my troth.” Montruse held out his hand for Sir Walter to kiss his ring,

  After a moment’s hesitation and a flicker of disdain in the steward’s eyes, he complied.

  Jarin could delay no longer without suspicion. He stepped through the door just as Sir Walter said, “Then I shall employ every weapon in my arsenal.”

  Making his way across the great hall, Jarin barely took note of the servants spreading cloths over the trestle tables and maids scurrying about with fresh flowers and oil lamps in preparation for the noon meal. He maintained his bent posture and awkward shuffle as he entered the larder and passed through the kitchen, out into the inner bailey, where he was to meet Anabelle.

  The fresh air did much to sweep away the weight of evil he oft felt inside the castle these days. But it did naught to sweep away his fear for Lady Cristiana D’Clere. They intended to eliminate her, as the bishop had declared.

  And he could never allow that to happen. He was done taking orders from Ronar LePeine.

  Anabelle appeared before him carrying a basket of fresh herbs. Blond curls spilled out from beneath her chaplet and circled a comely face. A year ago, he would have attempted to entice such a delicious morsel to his bed. But that was before he met Lady Cristiana.

  A tiny smile curved one side of Anabelle’s lips as she whispered. “I hardly recognized you.”

  “Then I have achieved my goal. Have you, mistress?”

  Gripping the basket, she glanced around the busy bailey. “I have. At least when I have the opportunity. He has taken to his bed much of late.”

  “I am pleased.”

  “But I fear the bishop more than Sir Walter.” She continued whispering as a visible shiver ran through her. “There is evil in that man.”

  “I quite agree. There is evil in them both. But ’tis Sir Walter’s confession we need.”

  She nodded, and Jarin slipped his hand inside his cloak, pulled out a vial, and handed it to her.

  Taking it, she hid it amongst the reeds in her basket and smiled ere she went on her way.

  Finally out of the castle, Jarin drew a sigh of relief as he made his way through the village, which bustled with people going about their daily tasks.

  By the time he entered Emerald Forest, he couldn’t discard his disguise fast enough. Kneeling before a creek, he peeled off scars made of clay and washed Alexia’s artwork from his face.

  Finally able to stand tall, he drew back his shoulders and took a deep breath of pine, moss, and earth before collecting the belt and weapons he’d hidden in a bush. Anxious to report back to his friends, he strapped on the gear and proceeded on his way…when two knights leapt in his path, swords drawn.

  ♥♥♥

  Alexia D’Clere nocked an arrow in her bow, pulled back her bowstring, and shifted it over the forest spread beneath her.

  “Tush!” Ronar growled from the branch beneath hers as he made his way from bough to bough up the tall oak tree. Gripping the hefty limb, he swung himself up to stand beside her, causing it to shake beneath her feet. “Must we always climb the tallest tree in the forest?” He brushed himself off.

  “Shh.” Alexia arched a brow toward him. His blue eyes met hers with a wink. The man never failed to stir her insides into a frenzy. Ronar LePeine, Lord Rivenhall, turned King’s Guard, and now Knight of the Eternal Realm. And her betrothed.

  Alas, she still had trouble believing that last bit. He shifted slightly ere catching his balance, then grinned her way. Dark brown hair grazed over broad shoulders encased in a thick leather doublet. All manner of weapons hung from a belt at his waist.

  He scratched the stubble on his chin and lowered his voice. “I fail to see why we can’t guard the forest from the ground.”

  Shifting her gaze to the trees, Alexia hid a smile. “Never fear, Sir Knight. With a little more practice, you shall soon be flying through these trees like an eagle.”

  He leaned toward her, his hot breath igniting a fire on her neck that spread down her body, causing the usual pleasurable shiver. “I am more panther than bird, my Lady Falcon. Though I am beginning to believe ’tis the only way I will get to see you.”

  “And is it worth your climb, Sir Knight?” She smiled.

  “Only if I receive a kiss.”

  “Potz! Do you think I grant such favors to any knight who climbs a simple tree for me?”

  “Nay.” He glanced down, his eyes widening. “But I doubt many would attempt the feat for less.” He faced her with that disarming smile of his. “Mayhap for your husband?”

  She nudged him back, careful not to unsettle him. “You are not my lord yet.”

  “And why is that?” His brow wrinkled. “I fear I cannot wait much longer to make you mine.”

  In good sooth, neither could she. She shifted her gaze away lest she give in to his every demand. “You know we must concentrate on our mission—clearing our names, defeating Sir Walter and the evil within Luxley, and then restoring the estate to my sister.”

  “We can do that as man and wife.” Grabbing a strand of her red hair, he fingered it as if it were made of silk and drew it to his nose.

  Against her will, her blood heated. “You know I cannot enter into such happiness whilst my sister suffers.”

  “Which is one of the reasons I love you so.” He ran a thumb gently over her cheek, and she could stand it no longer. Lowering her bow, she drew close and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He reached around her and pulled her against him, deepening the kiss until she felt she would lose her balance and fall blissfully through the air, without a care for striking the ground.

  Finally, he withdrew and gave her a victorious grin.

  She frowned. “Ah, Sir Knight, you received your kiss withal.”

  “I always do, my love.”

  If she had not sensed something astir in the forest at that moment, Ronar would have found himself struggling for balance. As it was, she raised her bow again. “Hush now, knight. Something is afoot.”

  Opting for his knife instead of the bow and quiver of arrows slung over his back, Ronar assumed his warrior stance, studying every tree, shrub, and darting squirrel for anything out of the ordinary. Alexia had done her best to instruct him in the art of archery these past months, but the mighty King’s Guard found the weapon “cumbersome and ineffectual,” as he put it, much preferring his blades. His instruction, however, had provided Alexia with hours of entertainment.

  The warble of birds accompanied the laughter of wind trickling through leaves. Lush greenery, brimming with wildlife, flourished everywhere she looked. Emerald Forest. Her home the past ten years. Ever since Friar Josef had rescued her from Luxley Castle when he discovered Sir Walter’s plot to murder her.

  “I hear naught,” Ronar finally said.

  Alexia closed her eyes. “Nor do I.” She sought the Spirit within, and in moments the world transformed from one of bland greens and browns to stunning emeralds, jades, ambers, and bronze—all glittering and vibrating with life. Gold-dipped wings of butterflies fluttered about as the songs of myriad birds rose to the throne of God in a harmony of praise. A creek of bubbling diamonds cut across the ground past two warriors of light who guarded the foot of the tree in which Alexia and Ronar stood.

  Alexia never grew weary of this privileged peek into the spirit realm. The friar said she was a seer, one of God’s children gifted with sight into the next world. ’Twas not for her benefit, but to help others, as she hoped to do now. She had felt the darkness and now she saw it, lurking behind the trees, slinking in the shadows, avoiding the light. It circled around a figure in the distance, crowding in on him as if to swallow him whole.

  Alexia opened her eyes. “Jarin,” was all she said.

  “He’s in trouble.” Ronar she
athed his knife and leapt down to the branch beneath them.

  Swinging her bow over her back, Alexia followed, but passed him as she descended with the speed and grace of years living amongst the trees. She landed on the soft dirt and waited for him.

  Shaking his head, Ronar dropped beside her. “How do you do that?” he growled.

  “How did you know Jarin was in trouble?”

  “You aren’t the only one our Lord speaks to, my love.” He kissed her cheek and sped off in the direction she would have gone.

  Alexia heard the eerie clank of steel on steel echoing through the treetops long before she saw Jarin. Withdrawing an arrow from her quiver, she positioned it in the bow as she ran beside Ronar, who had drawn his sword.

  Grunts and groans joined the cacophony of striking blades, urging them to increase their speed. Finally, they burst into a clearing to find Jarin battling two large, well-armed soldiers. He crossed blades with the larger of the two in a mighty clank, but their hilts caught for the briefest of seconds. Alas, ’twas all it took for the smaller soldier to thrust his sword toward Jarin’s side.

  Chapter 4

  This cannot be the end. Jarin had no sooner thwarted one soldier’s vicious attack, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the other soldier’s blade plunging toward his side. Until now, he’d been able to use his finely-honed skills as a King’s Guard to fend off the two brutes attacking him. And quite successfully, he would add, for blood saturated the arm of the smaller man, where he’d sliced the skin to the bone. If only Jarin’s hilt hadn’t gotten stuck with the larger soldier’s blade. As it was, he knew he could not react in time.

  Sudden and unusual fear squeezed his heart. What would become of Cristiana? And the Knights of the Eternal Realm? Even worse, where would he end up? He’d not been on speaking terms with the Almighty in quite some time. Sweat stung his eyes as he prepared himself for the pain of the sword.

  Snap-swoosh, snap-swoosh. Fast and one after the other, the sounds filled the air. An arrow cut through the smaller man’s arm. He dropped the sword. The other soldier groaned in agony as another arrow pierced his thigh. But ’twas not enough to stop him. With a mighty growl, he swung his blade toward Jarin.

  Jarin raised his sword to fend him off just as Ronar charged the man, leveling his own sword at the man’s chest. “I’d drop that if I were you.”

  The soldier, who appeared more beast than man due to the large amount of hair on his face and neck, sneered at Ronar, hesitating as if contemplating taking on both of them.

  The other soldier, still moaning from his wound, inched his hand toward his sword on the ground, but Lady Falcon kicked it aside and pointed her arrow at him, giving him a sweet smile.

  The large soldier’s eyes widened at the sight of Lady Falcon—no doubt recognizing her. Surely he’d be rewarded handsomely for bringing such a prize back to Sir Walter and Bishop Montruse. But he must have realized who he was up against, for his expression fell, along with his sword thudding to the ground.

  “Begone! You may leave with your life if you leave posthaste,” Ronar said, glancing at the man’s wounds. “However, I advise you to hurry ere darkness falls and wolves emerge from their dens, drawn to the stink of your blood.”

  Jarin chuckled.

  A snarl lifted the large man’s lips as he glanced at his friend, who lumbered to his feet, the arrow still protruding from his arm. Together they hobbled away as fast as their wounds permitted them.

  Lady Falcon, who kept her arrow pointed at them, finally lowered it and called after them. “Do tell Sir Walter, the Knights of the Eternal Realm send our regards.”

  Still chuckling, Jarin faced his friends. “If you must know, I had the situation quite in hand.” He sheathed his blade, even as a wave of relief settled through him.

  Ronar grabbed his arm and squeezed it. “I do not gainsay it. But what harm is there in a little aid from friends?”

  “A little?” Jarin faced the infamous Lady Falcon. Waves of fiery hair flowed about her face and over the huntsman attire she wore that failed to hide her feminine curves. Her green eyes held a world of wisdom and spunk as she assessed him, and Jarin could see why Ronar was taken with her. “Bosh! Rescued by a woman, her two arrows fired so swiftly and precisely there was naught left for us to do. And us, King’s Guards! The shame of it. My lady,”—he dipped his head in her direction—“’tis our job to rescue you, not the other way around.”

  Sheathing his sword, Ronar smiled at his betrothed. “Alas, a fact of which I have informed her many a time.”

  Lady Falcon flung her bow over her shoulder and placed a hand on her hip. “It pains me greatly that I have caused your pride to suffer, gentlemen, but if ’tis a maiden you wish to rescue, it may please you to look elsewhere.”

  Jarin shared a glance with Ronar, who shrugged and smiled at Alexia. “Tush, love! You cannot gainsay that I have come to your rescue more than once.” Ronar grabbed the soldiers’ swords off the ground and handed one to Jarin ere he approached Lady Falcon.

  “Did you, Sir Knight?” She pursed her lips at her intended, an impish sparkle in her eyes. “Mayhap. Yet I trust I have more than returned the favor.”

  Ronar slid a finger over her cheek. “In part, I’ll admit, but I hope you will repay me in full one day soon.”

  Jarin growled, the exchange reminding him he’d not enjoyed such amorous banter with the softer gender since meeting Lady Cristiana. “Enough of this sickening flirtation! Let’s away to the cave. I have much to tell everyone.” He marched off, pushing aside a shrub whilst chuckles followed in this wake.

  Ronar caught up with him. “Pray, what news from Luxley?”

  “’Tis not good. But I should wait until Damien and the friar can hear as well.”

  Ronar nodded, his expression stern in the fading light.

  “How fares Anabelle?” Lady Falcon spoke from behind him.

  “She is well…brave as always.” Jarin glanced over his shoulder at her, but she had disappeared up into the trees. Without a sound, he would add.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” he heard her say from above them. He shook his head. The lady was more bird than human.

  “You weren’t followed?” Ronar asked.

  “Nay. Nor discovered.” Jarin glanced upward. “Your disguise worked, my lady.” Leaves rustled, but he could no longer see her as night dropped a black cloak o’er the treetops.

  No further words were said. The sound of their breaths mingled with the hoot of owls, the hum of insects, and the distant, eerie howl of a wolf.

  A prickling scraped across the back of Jarin’s neck. But not from the wolf. He rubbed it, trying to shake off the foreboding, when Ronar threw an arm out to halt him. Together they stood still…listening… barely breathing. Above the noise of the forest came footsteps…tentative…soft. Joined by the sound of Lady Falcon’s bowstring pulled tight from a branch above.

  Ronar drew his blade. Jarin did the same. Backing off the trail, they eased into the shadow of a large tree.

  The footsteps grew louder. Leaves rustled. A feminine sigh followed by a slight whimper caused Jarin to loosen the tight grip on his blade. Ronar’s shoulders lowered as well. Yet they remained hidden.

  In moments, a shadow entered from their left and wandered down the path. A woman. A shaft of moonlight broke through the canopy and transformed her braid of hair into glistening ivory.

  Leaves rustled overhead, and she glanced upward just as the name “Seraphina” loosed from Lady Falcon’s lips, and she dropped onto the path before her friend.

  Though the woman shrieked and leapt back, within an instant she flew into Lady Falcon’s arms, crying in delight. “I found you, Lady Alexia! I found you!”

  Heart leaping at the sight of Lady Cristiana’s dear friend, Jarin emerged from the shadows, Ronar by his side. ’Twas indeed her! The woman who never left her lady’s side.

  “Where’s Lady Cristiana?” Jarin approached her, though she still sobbed in Lady Falcon’s arms
.

  Ronar touched his arm and sent him a look of censure. ’Twas obvious the woman was distraught, for they could now see her woolen kirtle was torn and stained, her hair disheveled, and her emotions awhirl.

  Still, she pushed from Alexia and faced him with tears forging tracks down her dirt-stained face. “’Tis why I have come, Sir Jarin.” She released a heavy breath and stumbled.

  Ronar caught her. “Let’s get her back to the cave posthaste. She needs care.”

  “Dear, dear, Seraphina.” Lady Falcon embraced her again, then took one arm while Ronar grabbed the other and hoisted the bulk of her weight onto his shoulder.

  “Pray tell, is my sister alive?” Lady Falcon’s voice rang with the same fear Jarin felt inside.

  “She is, my lady,” Seraphina breathed out as they proceeded.

  Feeling his fear soften a bit, Jarin took the rear, cursing his selfishness even as he grew desperate for further news.

  That desperation mounted as they approached the waterfall, made their way through the prickly brambles surrounding it, leapt atop moss-laden boulders, and slipped behind the cascade of water. It further grew as they squeezed into the narrow opening behind the cleft of a rock, then felt their way along the winding tunnel leading down to the place Jarin had called home for nearly a year.

  A secret knock, the turn of a latch, and the friar’s kind face appeared behind the wooden door. With a gentle wave of his hand, he beckoned them inside. His smile faded to concern at the sight of Seraphina.

  “Place her here by the fire.” He gestured toward a high-backed bench, cushioned in red and perched beside the hearth, whilst he sped as fast as his old legs could carry him to the other side of the room, his brown robes flowing behind him.

  Jarin closed and latched the door, allowing the warmth of the well-appointed chamber to sweep away the chill of the forest. Alack, his desperation remained. Yet, as light from several lamps alighted upon Seraphina, that desperation faded to mere impatience in view of her ragged condition. Aside from her torn and stained kirtle, bruises and cuts marred her arms and face—a comely face that appeared sunken, no doubt from lack of sustenance.