The Goddess and The Guardians Boxset: The Complete Romantic Fantasy Quartet

by Karen Tomlinson

  Once they were alone, Jack sat on the wooden bench and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He braced his feet against the wild movement of the deck and tried not to fall off the bench.

  Arades mirrored his movements but otherwise seemed unperturbed by the rough winter seas.

  Tom leaned back against the door, his hands fisted and his face tight. He did not take his eyes off Arades. “So how did you survive?” he asked the general.

  Arades glanced his way and for just a moment his eyes softened. “Your mother saved me.”

  Tom's throat bobbed, his nostrils flaring. “My mother is dead,” he stated. “A Seeker came in our home. She made me leave. She told me to run. And I did. Goddess forgive me, I did." His voice broke.

  Arades narrowed his gaze. Then the corners of his mouth curled up. “She did not die, Tom. She killed it. With a kitchen knife, of all things."

  Jack did not miss the pride in his voice.

  Tom’s gulp was audible. "She's alive?"

  "Yes. She is the reason I am here. Your mother saved my life. She shoved my guts back inside me, cleaned my wounds and sewed me up. Then she tended me for months. She is a remarkable—and very patient woman,” he proclaimed. Then he fixed Tom with a defiant stare. "And when this is all over, if I still live, I am bringing her to Rhodainia from Berriesford and I am going to make her my wife.”

  Tom's jaw became slack, his eyes wide. “My mother?" he croaked. "You want to marry my mother?”

  Jack had to chuckle at his friend's shocked expression.

  Arades lifted his chin, a hint of steel in his eyes despite the smile still curving his mouth. "Yes, I do. And I am going to. Now, you have your explanation. Please leave us. I wish to talk to the prince alone."

  Jack nodded at Tom's questioning look.

  Silence descended after Tom clicked the door shut.

  Arades took a breath, his eyes and face cold once again. “Please start your explanation from where the Seekers attacked Berriesford, highness. Tell me everything you know, even if it is second-hand. I have not seen my daughter for months and, from the talk I’ve heard, she has changed greatly. When we have spoken about my daughter, you will tell me what happened at Stormguaard after your father disappeared.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. No one had issued an order to him for years and, even though he was as overawed by this warrior as the rest of his men, he would not cower. “Will I?” he retorted. “I seem to remember you deserted my father for a woman that you hardly knew. Where do your loyalties lie now, Arades Gillon? Hmm? Because when I have told you about Diamond and the murderous bastard she has decided to love, you are going to have to make a choice.” He held Arades’ cold stare. “I am still your king’s son and that, General Gillon, makes you one of my subjects. Now I will agree to tell you what has happened to Diamond over the past months because, regardless of what you think of me, I still regard her as my friend and I still love her as such. But let me make myself clear, you will not order me to do anything ever again. Snarls and threats of violence will not sway me. I have been in battles of one sort or another since my father was murdered. Death holds no fear for me. Besides,” he smiled wryly, “those men out there might fear you, but they will still kill you if you harm me. And Gunnald has orders to put an arrow through your chest if you attempt to leave without my permission.”

  Arades smiled darkly. “Then tell me your stories, prince, and I will decide which way I prefer to die, fighting for you or because I have just killed you.”

  Jack inclined his head and began.

  The expanse of turquoise ocean stretched into the distance. For the past three days the weather had remained calm, which allowed Jack and his men to venture up on deck. Warm, salt-laced wind caressed their faces. Waves still battered the ship’s hull but Reese, who had once been a seaman, informed Jack the captain was originally of Hourian descent and was handling the storms well.

  “No! Here. Your sword should stay here. Again!” Arades barked.

  Tom scowled but kept his mouth shut. His sparring partner grinned widely. Zane was certainly not pulling his power; if anything, he delighted in trying to incite Tom’s anger and rile him up. Tom was having none of it.

  Syhira smirked as she watched from Jack’s side. They were on the upper deck, leaning over the balustrades whilst the esteemed general trained Jack’s men.

  “You shouldn’t look so pleased when people fail, lady assassin,” Jack admonished.

  Syhira grinned mischievously. “Why ever not, prince?” she answered in Hourian. “And speak to me in Hourian, if you please. Time for practise runs low.”

  “Syhira, do you really think you can arrange an audience for me with the king?” Jack asked haltingly in Hourian. Syhira was right, his Hourian was rusty.

  Syhira smiled cynically. “Don’t worry, prince. You will definitely get your audience, but I will not be with you when you do.”

  “Why not?”

  Her tone became bitter. “Because I am a woman and females of any race are not permitted in the halls of power—if that is where he deigns to receive you. We are not deemed clever enough to make important decisions and certainly not objective or cold enough to be in any position of power. The king believes women in his court should be beautiful ornaments who never get in his way or question their place. I don’t care,” she told him, her voice hardening as he opened his mouth to speak. “My only wish is to reach my sister and get her away from him.”

  “I will help you do that,” Jack reassured her. “But the Hourian people deserve to know what is coming for them.”

  “I know,” sighed Syhira. “But I’m not sure the king will believe he or his people are in danger. He is conceited enough to believe his lands are beyond invasion and his assassins will keep him safe.”

  Jack pressed his lips together, watching Tom defend himself against both Zane and Karl. “Well, you getting caught will surely make him rethink those ideas?” he suggested.

  Syhira's face twisted bitterly. “I doubt it. He will see it as purely my failure—probably because I am female.”

  “Oh,” replied Jack, not missing how Syhira’s hands gripped and twisted against the rails. “Will you be punished?” he asked quietly, not really wanting to know the answer.

  “Like I said, prince. It is not me I am worried about. Lyana is most at risk now. To be honest, I don’t know why you are bothering with the king or the princes. The king will not listen and my brothers are too cowardly to stand up to him.”

  Jack felt the familiar stirrings of doubt in his stomach. He hoped this wasn’t another bad decision. Maybe helping Syhira reach her sister was enough. Then he remembered all the people he had left behind, his people as well as Avalonian. No. It didn’t matter if this was a hopeless mission, he had to at least try and warn the Hourian king of Erebos.

  “Highness! Assassin! Would you care to join us?” bellowed Arades from below.

  With a grin, Syhira somersaulted over the rails to land squarely in front of the general. “Need a training partner, general?” she asked, an arrogant smile on her lips.

  Arades folded his arms and raised one eyebrow. “You couldn’t cope,” he quipped, then smirked and nodded at Jack. “But he needs practise.”

  Jack smiled ruefully. He walked past Roin, who smirked and coughed. “Good luck with her, prince,” he muttered before Jack walked down the steps. Roin was right, sparring with Syhira was always painful but never boring or predictable.

  A week later they berthed in the deep water of Orai’s east docks. Orai was the capital city of a vast kingdom of jewel and salt mines. The city walls snaked around a rugged coastline. It protected the closely built white stone buildings that stretched up over the city’s rocky slopes in an untidy fashion.

  In the harbour, a fleet of ships was berthed in neat rows, giving truth to the boasts from Hourian traders that Orai was one of the largest, most affluent trading cities in the known kingdoms. It was certainly the largest quay and docks Jack had ever laid eyes up
on.

  Massive wooden winches were busy swinging crates of goods from ship to shore. Men scurried around like ants, loading and unloading barrels and sacks and swathes of brightly coloured fabrics. Wagons waited to be loaded, and the whinny of horses reached him even out over the bay.

  Ships came from the far reaches of the ocean, their hulls and different designs marking them. Sailors bellowed in a multitude of languages, their garb and weapons vastly different. The place was colourful and ridiculously loud.

  Jack grinned, wishing he had time to jump off the ship and explore. He realised his own ports had never been this organised or this busy. He could learn so much here.

  Catching himself, he blew out a sharp breath through his nostrils and clenched his jaw. He would get his lands back and make them prosperous once again.

  Arades leaned over the rails. His eyes followed two guards on horseback who had been sent away after the dock-master had boarded to see who and what was on their ship. A grim look crossed his face. “We will be joined soon. They will not let a prince and warriors from another kingdom enter this city unescorted,” he said.

  “Let them come,” growled Zane, spitting over the edge into the cerulean water below.

  Jack quickly instructed his men. Gunnald donned a cloak and, after a bow to his prince, left the ship. He would follow the guards to the castle gates and wait, ready to loose his arrows should anything untoward happen in the streets. Master Dervin screeched from overhead, his eagle eyes watching the city and docks with unerring focus. Reese and his men were to stay with the ship and guard it. Jack ordered the captain to restock The Sea Swift in case a quick retreat was required.

  An hour later, palace guards, dressed in light metal armour worn over loose dark clothing, greeted them at the exit from the docks. Their captain was a man of few words. Stony-faced, he executed a small, stiff bow and gestured to the city. It didn’t pass unnoticed that he ignored Syhira completely.

  Syhira’s eyebrows twitched in an I told you so movement.

  Jack looked away. He didn’t care about the man’s attitude towards himself. All he wanted was to warn the king of Erebos, get Lyana and get back on the ship.

  Syhira walked silently beside Jack at the head of the column. Roin moved ahead with Tom and Unis. Zane, Karl, Somal and Vico stayed at his back.

  “Highness, you do realise we are extremely vulnerable here,” Arades rumbled darkly. He had opted to stay at Jack’s side. Not even Roin would consider asking the legendary fae to step away. His grey-streaked, brown hair hung straight to his shoulders and the two-day growth of beard gave him an air of unkempt danger.

  “Yes,” replied Jack. “But I am used to walking into the lair of other rulers, general. And I’ve learnt some hard lessons in trust over the years.”

  “Really? Well, I hope Diamond did too,” was Arades’ curt reply.

  Jack’s face heated but he refused to drop his gaze. “So do I,” he said before nodding to the Hourian captain.

  The captain led them up through the steep city streets. People stepped aside to avoid being pushed out of the way by the column of guards in front and behind. Jack could feel the curious stares of hundreds of people. He ignored them, instead taking in the sights and sounds of the markets and streets around him. Jack pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders and suppressed a shudder. Houria was no further south than Valentia and, although the Ice Moon was rising in the skies and the winter storms were settling, it was still bracing.

  Fingering the small blade concealed in his sleeve, Jack raised his eyes. An eagle screeched before it disappeared over the rooftops.

  Councillor Anuri was a dour man with an enormous girth. His head only reached the centre of Jack’s chest. Even Syhira, who was the shortest of them all, towered above him. He stood at the young prince’s shoulder, his hands clasped and beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

  The young prince, who looked no more than fourteen years old, smiled in exaltation at Syhira but he addressed Jack and his small group of men first. “You will kneel. It is expected when greeting any member of the Hourian royal family. Is that not so, assassin?” he asked imperiously.

  “Oh indeed, Prince Fetu,” Syhira answered. Her voice dripping with sarcasm as she kneeled.

  Jack did not kneel and neither did his men. He took a breath and slowly released it, telling himself there was no malice to be borne toward this young boy, despite his arrogance.

  “Syhira, I trust you have an explanation for my father? Though I doubt he will listen. Your punishment will be harsh. I know there is at least one gaoler who will be happy to see you again. His whip gets bored without you.” His voice was thick with malice at the prospect. Fetu turned his attention to Jack. “And who are you that you arrive in the company of one of my bastard sisters?” he asked coldly.

  Jack controlled his urge to plant his fist in the prince’s face. Instead, he performed a perfect formal bow. “My name is Prince Jack Oden and I come with grave tidings from Valentia,” he said, keeping his voice in a steady polite tone.

  “Really?” sneered Prince Fetu looking Jack up and down insultingly. “You’re Prince Oden?”

  Jack was fully aware his attire left a lot to be desired, especially compared to the luxurious purple silk robes Prince Fetu wore, but he stood to his full six foot three and looked down imperiously on Syhira’s brother. Fetu was smaller by at least seven inches and it clearly irked him to have to look up at a visiting monarch rather than down on someone bowed to one knee. Jack could see why Syhira had a look of pure loathing in her eyes right now.

  “Yes, I am, and as such would have hoped your treatment of me and my guards would be far more courteous. Or perhaps it is necessary to be in the presence of the king and his heir, rather than his youngest son, to receive the respect to which I am accustomed, not to mention entitled?” he asked, his tone now dripping with disdain.

  “I am more than capable of giving respect where it is due, Prince Oden,” responded Prince Fetu petulantly.

  Jack knew Fetu was the younger of two sons, and it was clear he felt inferior enough to be cowed when reminded of his standing.

  “Really?” Jack said expectantly, looking down his nose at Fetu.

  Fetu swallowed, but took the bait. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Oden. I am sorry your first experience of our fine city has been at the hands of one of our court assassins,” he answered, trying to gain back some standing.

  “I’m not,” said Jack, maintaining his disdainful look and tone. “Syhira has been a far more respectful and gracious representative of Houria than you. A credit to your father, in fact,” he finished, winking at Syhira as Fetu tried to hide his snarl by turning away.

  Syhira smirked. Standing up, she followed her brother.

  Jack blew air out from his cheeks but caught Arades’ amused glance as they followed the young prince into the opulence of the white palace.

  “Let’s hope his brother and father are as easily managed,” Arades uttered from the side of his mouth.

  Councillor Anuri walked in front of Prince Fetu with two guards. They led Jack down many lavishly decorated corridors. The Hourian king clearly enjoyed being surrounded by opulence. They reached a gold star inlaid on the floor. Above them was a domed roof. Marble floors of all different colours stretched out in every direction. Gold and alabaster statues lined the walls. The guardians featured largely but there were alabaster statues of other deities as well.

  “The goddesses,” explained Syhira. “Lunaria once held pride of place in the hall of power, but the fact she is a goddess and female ensured her removal from that chamber nearly eight hundred years ago when the king’s grandfather ruled.”

  Unis huffed a growl. “Misogynistic pigs!” she spat, glaring at Fetu’s back.

  Fetu stiffened but chose to ignore her remark.

  Jack frowned, wondering how old the king of Houria actually was.

  “Two hundred fifty-six years old,” Syhira answered expressionlessly.

&n
bsp; Jack eyed her with surprise.

  “I could see you trying to work it out. Immortals are just that, prince; they are immortal, not invincible. They can be killed like any of us, but they heal from wounds that would slay us and they do not seem to fall to sickness. The previous kings died in battle, and so far this king has not sired an immortal son.”

  “What about Prince Yonden? Is he not heir to the throne?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes, he is, but if an immortal is ever sired, any mortal king or prince is deposed when that child reaches maturity at twenty years of age.”

  “What happens if the immortal is a girl?” Jack asked, glancing sideways at her.

  “She is removed,” Syhira said coldly.

  Jack had a sudden feeling of unease. “What did Fetu mean about your punishment?”

  Syhira turned to him as they slowed. The counsellor had reached a large set of double doors in white and gold and waited impatiently whilst two servants pushed them open.

  “I failed my mission and put our lands at risk. Unless I can reach Lyana and get out of here, I will be flogged and sent to the red metal mines in the north until I die,” she said quietly but her eyes were still defiant.

  Jack was horrified. “But you’re his daughter!” he whispered.

  She laughed bitterly. “No. He does not have daughters.” She suddenly gripped his arm, looking fiercer than he had ever seen her. “Please find Lyana. She works in the kitchens as a cook’s assistant. Her hair is blond and short. Please find her before the king does. Take her with you. Please.”

  “Of course,” Jack promised.

  “Assassin!” Prince Fetu bellowed. “To the front, beg your king for forgiveness. In his wisdom, he will decide if you may live.”

  Syhira lifted her chin and walked forward.

  Live! But she said she would be flogged, not killed! This was getting worse. Jack quickly followed them into the large room, his eyes on the figure at the far end. This was clearly not the Hall of Power as female servants were serving a man in his late twenties. The couch he reclined upon had been raised on a dais.