the castle walls bulge with those who seek your protection and
those who wish to fight at your side against the tyrant. What’s
one more refugee from DiSanti’s reign?”
“True, but how will we keep her under guard if none know
her identity? Unguarded, she could simply slip away.”
“No one will question your right to have her in your quarters.
In fact, there are plenty who will cheer your return to the land
of the living from your self-imposed monkhood. And,” Graham
grinned, “those who will curse the woman because they desire
to be where she is.”
Kyne’s expression changed from puzzlement to indignation.
“I’ll not...” He whirled away from Graham’s mocking smile
and met her gaze. Color stained his cheeks. Did he care what
she might think of the arrangement? Apparently, yes. What did
she think? Goose bumps blossomed over her body.
“I’ll see to giving the men their instructions.” Graham turned
and walked away, leaving her alone with Kyne.
She stared at him, but kept her expression neutral.
“I suggest you refrain from comment or protest. My temper
is none too even at the moment. You have no choice in
accommodation. If the castle boasted a dungeon, I’d as soon
house you there, but my father’s ancestors didn’t believe in
imprisoning their enemies beneath their feet. As Graham said,
the castle is fair to bursting, and I’m not so foolish as to leave
you unguarded.”
“I never supposed you were. However, I had no intention
of protesting.” At his side she would be safe and could learn
more about him, but.... “Your plan is sound, though it does have
its flaws. You will protect me from your people by posing as
my...lover.” She hesitated on the word. He thought her
dangerous. Let him wonder how much. Standing in front of
him, she met his glare. “But who will protect me from you?
And...” she cocked her head to one side and gave him a small
smile, “who will protect you from me?”
She knew it foolish to deliberately taunt him, but his shocked
look made it worth the risk.
***
Kyne kept remembering the provocative sway of the
woman’s hips and her saucy words. Did she deliberately taunt
him? Had she discerned his desire for her and now attempted
to set spark to kindling? Which was she, innocent or wanton?
Kyne had bitten his lip to keep from calling her back and
demanding an answer.
As they approached, the blue stone of Castle Vareck
shimmered in the late afternoon sun, appearing whole and
formidable in the distance. Closer in, the broken ramparts and
crumbling walls became apparent. Though Kyne had repaired
and rebuilt what he could of the ancient structure, he knew
only the castle’s isolated and unknown location prevented
DiSanti from attempting to capture it.
Generations past, his ancestors had built the castle to block
the one accessible pass through the mountain from a neighboring
enemy. Then over a hundred years before a tremor shook the
mountain and blocked that pass, rendering the fortress
unnecessary as well as nearly unreachable.
Now this crumbling edifice served as the last stronghold of
a desperate people, a people pushed to the edge by an unyielding
despot determined to squeeze the very life from them. More
and more came, forced from their lands by unrelenting taxes.
Faced with being coerced into service in DiSanti’s army, their
families held hostage, many stole away in the night with nothing
but the clothes on their backs.
How many more could he feed and house? Graham was
right, they must make their move before winter set in or face
starvation when snow blocked the trails.
Kyne felt the woman straighten behind him and catch her
breath.
“Beautiful,” she whispered in awe. “It glows like it’s made
of blue crystal.”
Built of the same blue stone as Vareck Castle, Kyne’s family
home in the Shula Valley had been modeled after the stronghold.
A place of peace, love and laughter for generations, now only
rubble remained, along with broken dreams and ghosts who
cried out for vengeance.
in his mind. Justice or vengeance, it mattered not. Kyne vowed
to make DiSanti pay for his treachery.
In the castle courtyard people crowded around them as
Kyne dismounted. Old men, women and children, this ragtag
army looked to him to topple the current regime and set them
free. Would he lead them to freedom or to death? Despair
threatened to overwhelm him.
Graham pushed his way to Kyne’s side. “Rul Cathor has
come a long way. Let him refresh himself and have last meal
before you descend like locusts upon him. He’ll see to your
needs later. Be gone.”
“Father! Father!” A child’s high, piping voice broke through
the babble as the crowd dispersed.
Kyne turned, and a small body catapulted into his arms.
The little girl showered his face and neck with moist, sticky
kisses. Gloom faded.
“I missed you so.” On the last word a series of hoarse
coughs racked the child’s thin body. When they eased, she
squeezed him tight and began to squirm in his embrace.
Reluctantly, Kyne released her. Like a whirlwind, the five
annum old Zoa rarely stayed in one place for more than a few
moments. It was as if she knew her life would be short, and
she wanted to experience everything before it ended.
She wrapped her arms around Hakan’s leg. “I missed you
too.”
The big beast stood rock still as she pulled his head down
and planted a kiss on his nose. She looked up and spotted the
woman. “Who is she?” A hint of hostility crept into her voice.
Kyne reached up and lifted the woman off Hakan. She
stood silently at his side, her gaze on Zoa. “A friend.” The
words stuck in his throat.
Zoa put her fisted hands against her hips and glared at
Kyne. “You don’t have lady friends. Etam said you’re a monk,
and monks don’t have lady friends.” She stuck out her lower
lip in an “I-told-you-so” way.
Kyne smiled at the girl’s vehemence. Lately the ten annum
old boy, Etam, had become Zoa’s hero. She followed the brash
boy around, imitating his walk, his talk and spouting his words
as gospel, much to Etam’s chagrin and often to Kyne’s
embarrassment when she repeated something inappropriate.
Her belligerent stance dissolved as another coughing spell
took her. When it ended she turned her frown on the woman.
“What’s your name?”
The woman knelt in front of Zoa. “Sianna.”
“Sianna?” Kyne asked. “Daughter of Light? Hardly an
appropriate name for...” He caught himself. Laila. Sianna.
Whatever her name, she was DiSanti’s daughter. “It matters
not what you call yourself. It doesn’t change who you are.”
Sianna refused
to raise her gaze to him. “It’s what my
friends call me. What do your friends call you?” she asked the
little girl.
Confusion replaced Zoa’s glare. Her eyes searched Sianna’s
face for what seemed a long time, then she smiled. “Zoa.”
“That’s a lovely name.” Sianna held out her hand. “May I
call you Zoa?”
Shyly Zoa put her small, grubby fingers inside Sianna’s
slender ones. “I s’pose.” Her voice was a low wheeze.
Kyne heard the congestion in Zoa’s small lungs, her difficulty
in breathing, her constant struggle to pull in enough air.
“Thank you, Zoa.”
“Do you want to see my kitties?” Zoa asked.
Amazement washed over Kyne. Only a select few were
allowed to see Zoa’s menagerie. She never warmed to
strangers. Too much pain and deceit in her young life had killed
in her the easy trust most children had.
Before Sianna could answer, Kyne said, “Not now, poppet.
Where’s Grenna?” He searched the thinning crowd for sight
of Zoa’s plump nanny. Not seeing the motherly Grenna
anywhere, he swept Zoa into his arms and handed her to
Graham. “Return this little minx to her jailer to be fed, bathed
and put to bed.”
“My pleasure, Rul Cathor,” Graham said. “Being a lady’s
Zoa giggled and clung to Graham’s broad chest. She
appeared heartbreakingly tiny and fragile in the man’s grip.
Swinging the girl onto his shoulders, Graham strode away. His
low, teasing tones and Zoa’s laughter left Kyne with a strange
ache of jealousy. With him, Zoa seldom laughed.
“She loves you with every fiber of her small being.”
Startled, Kyne looked down at the woman still kneeling at
his feet. “I know.”
With an unconscious grace, she rose and stood before him,
her head barely reaching his shoulder. “Where is Zoa’s mother,
your wife? Why doesn’t she greet you?”
Kyne’s step faltered, then he moved on. “I have no life-
mate. Zoa’s mother is dead. As is her father and her family.”
Sianna hurried after him. “But she called you father?”
“Many children here call me father.” But only Zoa claimed
a large piece of his heart.
“I see.”
“Do you? I think not.” Though he tried to deny the title,
as Rul Cathor he was father to all his people. They looked to
him for strength.
“The child is sick?” Sianna asked.
“The child is dying. When her father was conscripted into
DiSanti’s army, Zoa and her mother were forced to work the
nika fields to survive. Her mother died last planting season, and
her father was killed trying to desert.”
“No.”
Kyne heard the shock and sorrow in Sianna’s words.
“Has she been to a healer?”
“Yes. There is nothing to be done. Zoa’s lungs are damaged
beyond repair. The thin mountain air is destroying her ability to
breathe. Our healer tells me Zoa will not live through the winter.”
The words came out of him cold and stiff, like Zoa’s small body
would soon be.
Sianna’s fingers dug into his arm. “Surely you’ve sought
another healer? Let me care for her. I studied the healing arts.”
“I wouldn’t trust you to care for my quinar.” Wielding his
words like a sword, he cut off her offer of assistance, but her
stricken look turned the blade back on himself.
She persisted. “What of the valetudinarian of the Sisters of
Light?”
He shook off her hand and turned to face her. “What of
them? The hospital is in an area controlled by your father’s
forces.”
“The Sisters care for all regardless of religion, politics or
wealth.”
“Perhaps, but to get to the Sisters, one must travel through
Dramon, and to do that, permits are needed. Permits only your
father and his minions can grant. I find it unlikely he would give
me or one of mine free passage.”
“My father wouldn’t stop you from seeking help for a sick
child.” The quaver in her voice turned the statement to a
question.
Her expressive blue eyes begged him to deny her father’s
evil, and for a brief second Kyne found himself wanting to do
so. She played the part of the innocent too well. She almost
shook his belief in her guilt—almost.
“We’re both aware of exactly who your father is and what
he’s capable of.” He pushed her through the castle door into
the great hall.
***
Overwhelmed by the din, Sianna cringed into Kyne. People
crowded the great hall, each hurrying about his own task. Voices
echoed off the rough stone walls and swirled upward. Unlike
the calm order of the valetudinarian or even the strict protocol
of her father’s castle, here chaos ruled. Taking a deep breath,
she struggled to block the emotions slamming into her from all
sides.
A myriad of odors assaulted her—smoke, unwashed bodies,
hound, rancid food, and charred meat. Her nose wrinkled in
disgust. How could people live like this? Kyne’s hand at her
back urged her forward.
Many in the hall had some manner of injury or illness.
Others, though appearing healthy, carried grievous wounds on
their spirits. Kyne’s arrival stirred a flicker of hope in the grief
and despair hanging in the air. The people watched as he made
his way past them with her in tow.
By the Light, these people needed her as much as they did
Kyne.
Slowly the scene came into focus, details shifting into view.
To the left, a fire blazed in a hearth high enough for a man
to stand upright within and large enough for two men, arms
outstretched to stand side by side. Ages worth of smoke and
grease blackened the walls around the hearthstone. Above the
fire, the carcass of an animal turned on a spit. A young boy
guarded the meat from a hungry-eyed group of gaunt, shaggy-
haired wolve hounds. When one hound, bolder than the others,
lunged for the meat, the boy whacked the animal on the snout.
The hound bared its teeth, then slunk away.
Another hound scrounged through the musty rushes covering
the floor. A sharp squeak rewarded his effort. Gripping his furry
prize, the hound growled at the others when they tried to share
in his meager meal.
“Each day there are more of them,” Kyne said. “I’m gone
but a tenday and their numbers double.”
Though he spoke aloud, Sianna knew he didn’t speak to
her. The weariness in his voice tugged at her heart, making her
long to give him ease. Why, when she could not sense his
emotions, did she feel such a connection with this man?
They made their way across the hall, up the stairs and
down a shadowy hallway. Only one crystal lamp lit the dim
corridor. Kyne stopped in front of a closed door. Pushing it
open he stepped inside and pulled her along.
Large, yet sparsely appointe
d, the room reflected his
personality—deceptively simple in appearance. Comfort came
in the form of a double box bed with its well-stuffed mattress
and clean linens. A suspicious, child-sized lump in the bedding
caught her eye. Smiling, she moved away.
A table surrounded by six straight-backed chairs indicated
Kyne used this room for more than sleeping. Neat stacks of
papers and an open map lay on the table. On either side of the
room’s fireplace, bookshelves covered the stone walls.
She stepped closer and let her fingers trail over the leather-
bound books that filled the shelves. Had he read all these
volumes? Would he allow her to read them?
“You will not leave this room without my permission. Do
not speak to anyone, nor attempt to escape. As you’ve already
seen, the terrain around the castle is rugged, and the sentries
will not hesitate to kill any who doesn’t belong. Meals will be
brought to you.” He crossed the room to the window and threw
back the heavy drapes.
Outside, the mountains rose behind the castle, the blue-
grey rocks changing the setting sun’s golden hues to cool blue.
“I have no intention of leaving. There is much need for me
here. But I’ll not remain in this room.”
“What?”
She ignored his shocked question and wandered around
the bed chamber, using the time to gather her strength.
Challenging this man would not be easy, but she could not
disregard the need she sensed in these people.
Taking a deep breath to calm the quiver in her stomach,
she turned to face him. “I am a trained healer. You have many
sick and injured. I will assist your healer.”
Kyne gave a humorless laugh. “Even if I believed you are
a healer, I would not trust my people to the mercy of DiSanti’s
daughter. They’ve suffered enough at his hands. Do not forget
you are my prisoner. This room shall be your cell.”
“How will you keep me in it? Will you watch me every
moment? Then what of your many duties? Perhaps you will
take me along?”
His scowl deepened, and he stepped toward her.
Standing her ground and keeping her tone light and cool in
the face of his growing irritation took all of her strength. “No, I
suppose you would not think it wise for me to hear your plans.
Then what will you do? Lock me in? I think not. Your people