thought possible. “And if you are injured or killed, what becomes
of Aubin’s child? Does he die with you?”
Indecision flashed across Laila’s face. She placed her hands
protectively over the swell of her belly.
Sianna rested her palm over the back of Laila’s hand and
was surprised by the flicker of life she felt within Laila. “He
deserves the chance to be born. To have his mother there as he
grows. Don’t throw Aubin’s gift away to avenge his death.
With his last words, Aubin spoke of the babe the two of you
had created, knowing his brother would stay his vengeance
until the birth. Perhaps Aubin believed by then you would have
convinced Kyne of your innocence.”
Laila jerked away from Sianna’s touch. Her gaze turned
hard. “Why are you so convinced of my innocence? You barely
know me. Perhaps I did betray Aubin. Power is a heady wine,
and DiSanti nursed me on the brew. He would have me rule at
his side.”
“No. There is no evil in you to do such a thing. You loved
Aubin. I’m sure of it.”
“Then you are a fool.” She turned her back to Sianna. “I
love no one and nothing. DiSanti beat love out of me years
ago.”
“Then why are you so angry over Aubin’s death?”
As if in pain, Laila’s shoulders hunched forward. “Aubin
was mine until I chose to let him go. DiSanti stole what was
mine. He will pay for it,” she rasped. “Now leave me. I tire of
your questions. My mind is set. I ride with Rul Cathor and his
men on the morrow. I will take my chances on my identity
being discovered. As you said, my pregnancy will protect me—
at least for a time—from Cathor’s wrath. As long as DiSanti
dies first, I will be content. Tell Cathor the truth now. Protect
yourself. You have my blessing.”
“Just one more question.”
“Very well, but then be gone.”
“Did you write to Aubin asking him to meet you at the
Lyon’s Head tavern?”
Even before she heard Laila’s whispered “No,” Sianna
knew the answer.
Fourteen
Though the pale, emaciated form on the bed no longer held
his beloved father’s spirit, his physical presence gave Timon
comfort. Breath rasped through King Dracken’s toothless, slack
mouth. Chewing nika rotted a person’s teeth along with his
brain. Timon gently wiped away the spittle from the king’s chin.
How often in the last two annum had he sat at his father’s
side and begged him to wake from his nika-induced stupor.
Pleaded for advice and answers to the dilemmas facing him?
But the only time his father stirred was when his body’s craving
for the drug that had destroyed his mind set him to screaming in
agony. Then only a mouthful of the harmless looking leaves
eased his pain and let him drift back into whatever limbo he
found peace.
Timon strode to the window and gazed out over the castle’s
quiet courtyard. Hours before, DiSanti and his loyal personal
guard had left for their rendezvous with Rul Cathor. The outcome
of that meeting worried Timon. If DiSanti escaped Cathor’s
trap, there would be no doubt in his mind as to who had betrayed
him. With only a few of the remaining palace guard loyal to
DiSanti, Timon didn’t fear for his own well being. As he waited,
his own guard were securing the palace.
Even if DiSanti regained control of the palace, he needed
Timon too much to do more than threaten and bluster. And his
father would probably embrace death. But what of his mother
and Thomasa?
None of Timon’s spies or informants had been able to
discover where DiSanti had hidden the two women. Timon could
only pray Rul Cathor would be successful. If not, Thomasa and
his mother might pay the price.
Had he been foolish to put his faith and trust in a man he
didn’t know? A man declared an outlaw by the Council. A
Council controlled by DiSanti.
Rul Cathor hadn’t been to court since the death of his
parents six annum prior. Eight at the time, Timon remembered
little of the Cathor family or the tragedy and scandal surrounding
their deaths. He knew that year heralded the beginning of
DiSanti’s rise to power and his father’s decline into nika
addiction.
He gripped the stone sill. What choice did he have? Cathor
offered him his only option other than meekly submitting to
DiSanti’s dictates.
If Cathor succeeded, the battles would be far from over.
DiSanti was but the head of a large and ravenous beast. The
death throes of a headless sardak could still kill.
How soon before he heard?
A soft rap at the door heralded his manservant with his
morning meal. Though food did not interest him, Timon ate. He
had much to do to prepare. Whatever the outcome of the
encounter, this day DiSanti’s rule of Dramon ended.
***
Swirls of thick mist hung over the mountain valleys. Dew
clung to the courtyard’s meager vegetation and slicked the
paving stones beneath the restless feet of the waiting quinar.
Scents of milling animals, unwashed men, wood smoke and
hastily cooked morning meals flavored the cool air sour and
sweet. Dawn barely lit the sky as Kyne mounted Hakan. They
must leave to set the trap for DiSanti. Time grew short, but
only fools traveled the mountain trails in the dark.
In the grey morning light he watched as Hamon, his second
in command since Graham’s injury, readied his troop of fifty
men for departure. Though stout of heart and filled with courage,
they were a ragtag bunch made up of mostly old men and
beardless lads. The few men of fighting age stood out like early
autumn leaves on a summer’s landscape.
Swords and daggers flashed in sun’s first feeble rays.
Thanks to the raid on the supply caravan, at least all were well
armed. Did he have enough men to carry his plan through to
success? They desperately needed the element of surprise on
their side. If DiSanti reached the rendezvous point before they
did, they were lost.
Je’al said DiSanti believed his story of outlaws, but DiSanti
was a cunning adversary. Though told to come alone, how many
men would he bring with him? Enough, Kyne was sure, to defeat
what DiSanti would think to be a small band of desperate men.
Outlaws were common throughout Dramon since DiSanti’s rule
began. Any man faced with the starvation of his family might
turn to thievery, but most died before they became adept at it.
With luck, DiSanti would discount the risk and come with only
a few soldiers.
Hamon was a good man, strong and brave, but he did better
following orders than giving them. Kyne would miss having
Graham at his side during the coming encounter. Both for his
strong arm and for his solid counsel.
Kyne frowned as Je’al rode up beside him. Though a far
cry from the pathetic bundle of skin and bones who’d arrive
d
just the previous morning, the lad couldn’t be well enough to
ride into battle.
Before Kyne could question the lad’s strength, Je’al said,
“I am fine, my lord. You have need of every man.”
“And woman.” The woman Lisha urged her mount between
Je’al and Kyne’s, and lifted an eyebrow as if challenging him to
object.
Other than a general dislike for women in battle, Kyne had
no valid objection to her presence. He nodded his agreement.
“You proved your worth in the caravan raid. I welcome
you at my side.”
A slight easing of her tense stance was her response.
Since their return he’d not seen her around. With her face
and hair washed and combed, her trim, full-breasted body clothed
in fresh garments, she was a handsome woman. Something
about the clean lines of her face struck a familiar cord in Kyne’s
mind. Clear blue eyes met him stare for stare without flinching
at his scrutiny. She held her full lips in a tight, unsmiling line.
The rising sun caught blue glints in her short, black hair.
Sianna ran out into the courtyard, Warda charging at her
heels. She grabbed Hakan’s bridle.
“No, Kyne. She cannot go with you.”
Startled, the quinar reared and yanked Sianna off her feet.
With a growl, Warda lunged at the quinar. In panic Hakan swung
his massive head and half-reared. His feet beat a tattoo on the
stone pavement. Sianna dangled in air. Only her grip on Hakan’s
bridle kept her from falling beneath his flailing hooves.
Blood thundered in Kyne’s head.
Before he could react and control his mount, she murmured
a few words, and the beast settled down. Her feet touched the
ground, but Kyne’s heart still raced. Warda crouched at her
side, fangs bared, eyes focused on the still nervous quinar.
“Are you mad, woman,” he gritted out, not willing to risk
startling Hakan yet again by shouting. He leaned down, wrapped
an arm around Sianna and hauled her across his lap.
He braced himself for a reoccurrence of their strange
emotional connection, but nothing happened. Instead of the relief
he knew he should feel, he was disappointed. Still, her fear and
agitation communicated itself clearly to him. Her slender body
quivered in his arms, her breathing as fast and erratic as his
own.
Gripping his coat front to maintain her precarious balance
on his lap, she squirmed around until she faced him. He shivered
as the cold of her fingers sliced through his thick shirt. The feel
of her soft, round buttocks grinding into his groin stirred an
unwilling response from him. He almost missed her next words.
“Lisha cannot ride into danger. You must forbid it.”
With her now safe in his arms, he nearly laughed at the
command in her tone, but was oddly hesitant to humiliate her in
front of his men by calling her on her arrogance in giving him
orders. Silence had fallen over the troop as they waited to hear
the rest of the conversation. Kyne considered dismissing them
and moving the women to a secluded area, but before he could
act, Lisha spoke.
“Sianna. This is not your concern.” Anger and warning
rang in Lisha’s words. “I am my own master. No man commands
me. Do not meddle in this.”
“Someone has to. You are too reckless for your own good.”
The argument sounded like one of some standing, yet how
could that be, Kyne wondered. The two women had met just
days before and hadn’t been together at all that he knew of
those few days. What went on here?
“Lisha has already proven herself a capable warrior. Why
shouldn’t she ride with us?” he asked.
“Because....”
“Sianna.” Lisha’s low growl stopped whatever Sianna had
been about to say.
She glared back at the other woman, defiance obvious in
her mutinous expression.
Both women were good at giving commands, but neither
seemed willing to take them.
“Well?” Kyne prompted. From the look of Lisha’s set,
angry features, a war waged within her.
For a moment her mouth quivered and her eyes moistened,
then her shoulders went rigid and she whirled her mount away
from them. “I ride with Rul Cathor,” she shouted. Her quinar
reared up at her command. “Who rides with us!”
Battle cries filled the air. Men whooped and hollered. The
quinar went a little mad, adding their raucous screams and
stamping feet to the commotion.
One arm occupied holding Sianna, Kyne struggled to
restrain Hakan from following suit. He barely felt her shudder
of despair as she clung to him, her cheek pressed to the hollow
of his throat.
The women’s argument forgotten in the excitement of
pending battle, the troop went on with its preparations.
“Keep her safe from harm, my lord,” Sianna whispered.
“She cares not what she risks in search of her vengeance against
my father.”
“Tell me why she should not ride with us, and I will
command it.” Why did he feel the urge to fix whatever was
wrong in this woman’s life? If not his enemy in fact, she was
his enemy’s daughter. Her distress should not weigh heavy on
his shoulders.
“I cannot. She must follow her own destiny, but if she suffers
an injury or...death, only the Eternal One could forgive me for
my silence, for I never will.” She raised tear-filled eyes to his.
“I can only beg you to guard her with your life.”
“I guard all my people. Is this stranger so important to you?”
Je’al moved closer and spoke. “The troop is ready to leave,
my lord.”
Kyne nodded and reined Hakan over to the edge of the
courtyard where Katya stood. He let Sianna down. Cold touched
him at the loss of her warmth against his chest. His arms and
his heart felt empty.
“Keep a close watch while we are gone,” he told Katya. “I
doubt DiSanti has knowledge of our fortress, but I would take
no chances.”
“It will be as you command, brother.”
In the last few days Katya had changed from a petulant,
angry child to a woman. Now she faced him as an equal,
confident in her strength and knowledge, but mature enough to
admit her limitations and accept guidance and command from
one with more experience. Determination shone in her golden
eyes. How like Aubin she looked. Pain mingled with pride in
Kyne’s heart.
She smiled, and the resemblance to Aubin faded. While
Aubin’s smile burst with the radiance of Sol, Katya’s was the
soft glow of a waning moon.
“In my absence I charge you with the care of the castle
and its people.” He glanced at Sianna, who stood at Katya’s
side.
She followed his gaze. “I will protect all.”
“Moon stones! Sons of water worms!” Graham’s deep
curses burst from the castle followed by his body carried on a
chair by two
lads. “Clumsy oafs! Do not jostle me so.”
Several feet away the lads stumbled. The chair thumped to
the stone paving. Graham’s face went white. The chair creaked
ominously. He groaned.
Katya scowled. Sianna’s eyes widened, and her fingers
flew to her lips. Both women rushed to the fallen giant’s side.
They fluttered like sparrows around a downed quinar.
“Fool,” Katya yelled.
“Have a care for his legs,” Sianna fussed.
“Take him back to his bed.”
“Leave me be, you knocked-kneed, ham-fisted moon
blights!”
Heads swiveling from Katya to Sianna to Graham, the lads
turned and bolted into the safety of the castle. Graham slumped
in the rickety chair.
Kyne dismounted and came to his side. At his quelling look,
the women fell silent and took a step back. If only they obeyed
his other commands so easily.
“Apologies, my lord. I had no wish to detain you, but I
would say my farewells,” Graham rasped.
Bending down on one knee, Kyne clasped Graham’s
shoulder. “It is I who owe you an apology. I should have come
to you before I left.”
“Would that I could ride at your side.”
“You will for our next battle.”
“Pray to the Eternal One there is no next battle, my lord. I
grow too old for fighting. I weary of the clash of swords and
find myself wishing for quiet days beside a warm hearth, children
and pups playing at my feet.” His heated gaze stole to Katya.
Color slashed across her cheeks seconds before she whirled
and disappeared into the men and quinar milling in the courtyard.
Graham’s shoulder sagged beneath Kyne’s hand. Kyne
smothered a grin. Graham and Katya’s game of advance and
retreat amused him.
“Have patience, my friend.” Kyne stood and glanced at
the rising sun. Apprehension trickled down his spine. “I must
leave now.”
Graham sighed and nodded. He turned and bellowed into
the castle hall, “Come back here, you weak-willed, puling pups
and carry me to my bed!”
“Farewell, friend.” Kyne quickly swung into Hakan’s saddle
and pulled the beast around.
Sianna bustled to Graham’s side. Though she said nothing,
Kyne could feel her gaze like a warm summer sunbeam on his
back as he herded his troop out of the courtyard and down the