by Jessi Gage
The fortress was two day’s ride far from Eire’s western shores, and the now abandoned city of Saroc, from which Larna’s kings had ruled. In the war twenty years ago, spies like Riggs and his father had mapped the caves and discovered they ran directly through Mammoth, the largest of Larna’s mountains.
Ever the cunning strategist, Neil had used those maps to outwit the Larnians on their own turf. The cowards of Bantus’s army had so feared the supposed monsters descended from long-ago breeding experiments that they avoided Mammoth and her caves at all cost. However, Marann’s army had discovered no living thing in the caves. Signs of ancient habitation littered the mountain’s belly, but there had been no wolves, no monsters, nothing in those caves larger than a beetle.
Marann’s spies and soldiers had won the war because the caves had provided shelter and hiding places near the fighting. They would use the caves again, this time to find their children, cure them of whatever Hyrk had done to them, and bring them home.
“Think the caves will be like we left them, Sire?” Riggs came up alongside him, clapping him on the back.
Back in the war, Riggs had been an axe-man in Marann’s army. Since Magnus had led the cavalry, they had not crossed paths until two moons ago, when Magnus had received a report that a lone Maranner was travelling with a stolen woman. Of course, the woman in question, Anya, had been rescued, not stolen, a fact that came to light after no small amount of misunderstanding—and, perhaps, jealousy on Magnus’s part. Now, Riggs was one of his trusted Knights of the Crescent Moon. In a few moments, he would be more.
Magnus nodded. “I think the caves will be as empty of monsters and useful to us as ever.”
Riggs grinned and hefted a water barrel onto his shoulder. A moment before he turned to stride to the water cart, his gaze darted past Magnus’s shoulder. The grin died, leaving icy anger in its place.
A deep voice said in Magnus’s ear, “All is ready, Sire.” He recognized that voice as belonging to Neil, Riggs’s uncle. Neil had stood by and done nothing when Ari had sent Riggs and then Riggs’s lifemate, Anya, through Hyrk’s portal to be tortured by Bantus. While Magnus had not fully forgiven his former war chieftain, he suspected he was closer to it than Riggs.
Magnus regarded Neil coolly. He would not let him forget he was free strictly out of necessity. “Very well. And the Fiona Blath?”
“My men and I will protect it with our lives.”
Magnus knew it was the truth. Neil had betrayed him not long ago, but something seemed to have changed within the former war chieftain. Perhaps his stay in the dungeon had given him perspective. Whatever the reason, Magnus trusted him to protect the women while he led his army to Larna. Even if Neil’s loyalty to him—and his nephew—was suspect, no one could ever accuse him of lacking loyalty to Marann or her precious ladies.
Since the Fiona Blath housed more than just Marann’s ladies, but also the human women rescued from Larna, Magnus had designated a quarter of his army to remain. He would not leave Chroina vulnerable while he rode to liberate the children from Hyrk’s spell. Neil was now Lieutenant over the Chroina contingent, and Magnus had faith he was leaving the city in capable hands.
The sun was high in the sky. Soon it would begin its descent to the horizon. They must be going. But one more thing needed to be done.
Magnus found his new war chieftain, Cathal, and relayed Neil’s message that the great hall was ready. A little celebration would lighten their burden before they left Chroina. Their warriors deserved a brief meal and a fond send-off.
Content with the state of the supply carts, Magnus ducked into the castle. Short on time and hands, his servants had been instructed to prepare only the most rudimentary of feasts. As he strode into the great hall, the scents of spiced meat and fresh bread suggested they’d done well considering the circumstances. Instead of children dashing about to fill goblets with beer, older servants did the work. They bowed to Magnus as he stepped upon the dais.
Above his throne was a portrait of him. Above the smaller throne, there was a portrait as well, but the second one was covered with a curtain. Magnus had longed for the day when the curtain could be opened, and Seona’s image would declare her position as his queen. Since finding Danu, Magnus no longer wished to have Seona sit the smaller throne. He wished it could be Danu. But she had her own throne to return to, and it was not here on Earth.
He spared the thrones only a glance as he made his way to where his head of council stood speaking with a council member. Clem greeted him with a bow and a wrist clasp. He had Magnus’s crown waiting for him, and Magnus bent his head so Clem could place it over his sweat-dampened mane.
Chroina’s governor, a rotund man with a gray beard noticed them and ambled over.
“Kell,” Magnus greeted, clasping the governor’s hand. “How fares Lady Nan?”
“She is well, Your Majesty.” Kell bowed. When he straightened, his eyes were sober. “You’ll be leaving soon, then?”
“After the feast,” Magnus confirmed. They would ride through the afternoon and stop only for a few hours in the night to rest the horses before continuing on. They must reach the entrance to the caves as soon as possible. Who knew what evil Hyrk was convincing the children of? All Magnus knew was that Hyrk cloaked himself with the faith of Marann’s precious youth, hoping to become powerful once more. From conversing with the demigod at Lachlan’s Promontory yesterday, he knew Hyrk hated everything Marann stood for. He hated Magnus. Danu help them if he succeeded in turning the children to his evil whims.
Clem and Kell took up positions to Magnus’s left. Servants threw open the doors to the great hall, and guests began streaming in. Gentlemen and ladies entered alongside axe-men, cavalry men, and archers. Each lady, dressed in bright silks and lace, floated like a flower in a sea of red kilts and dark cloaks. The guests were mingling and smiling as they found seats at the tables, but tension kept their speech quiet and their smiles brief.
A few of the human women were also in attendance, and Magnus’s heart lightened to see them gathered around Riggs’s mother, Hilda, who had become like a leader to the women of the Fiona Blath in Diana’s absence. The human women appeared well. Whole. Beautiful.
But there was one human form in particular Magnus could not wait to lay eyes on. The one inhabited by Danu.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, a pair of guards escorted her through a side door. With them was Josiah, the aged servant whom Daly relied on above all others. At seeing Danu, Magnus’s chest relaxed. He had not realized how tense he’d been without his goddess until she came to his side and wound an arm around him.
“Where is Daly?” Magnus asked Josiah, a clean-shaven man with spectacles. “Has he had any rest?”
“Aye, Sire. He refused to go to bed last night, but he’s fallen asleep in the kitchen, and we’re all tiptoeing around him so he doesn’t wake.”
Magnus would command his head of household be moved to his bedchamber so he could be more comfortable, but he doubted it could be done without waking him. If Daly woke, he would get back to work.
“Good,” he said. “Let him rest. Make sure all the servants get at least four hours of sleep each night. You’re in charge of schedules. All unnecessary tasks are hereby suspended until the children are returned. See that only meals, fires, and necessary chores are addressed.”
“Yes, Sire.” Josiah bowed and hurried away.
Danu touched his elbow, and warmth spread through him. “You are a fine king,” she said.
Sweet surprise washed over him like summer rain. How often did a man receive praise from a goddess? He was blessed among wolfkind. He was blessed among mortals everywhere. His divine lady’s words gave him the strength to carry on.
“I’ve missed you,” he told her, and he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her soundly.
Her arms circled his neck, and her lips moved under his, appreciative, receptive, impossibly addictive. How her kisses soothed him!
“And I you,” she said wit
h a radiant smile. “This is new.” She touched a graceful finger to the bejeweled crown atop his head, which he only donned for royal functions such as this.
The room quieted. It took him a moment to realize why. Everyone knew Seona despised him, so her sudden, apparent acceptance of him would be unexpected. Perhaps even alarming. Pinning her to his side, he rearranged his features into a reassuring smile.
Be confident, and they will be confident. Appear unruffled, and they will be unruffled. Expect victory, and they will expect victory.
How he missed his father! It should be him wearing this crown and leading this charge against the enemy. At least Magnus still had the former king’s words of wisdom.
In this moment, he could imagine his father saying, “The woman at your side will one day be their queen—at least in body. You must begin acclimating them to her.”
If only it could always be Danu in the lovely body at his side. If they succeeded in Larna and destroyed Hyrk, Danu would be restored to her rightful place, and it would be Seona at his side. This would likely be the only time his people would witness him and Seona trading smiles and kisses.
Pain twisted his heart at the impending loss. He could not afford the feeling. Shoving it aside, he pulled himself upright and took on a stance befitting a king.
Once the great hall was filled, Clem announced, “Esteemed ladies and men of Marann, I present His Majesty King Magnus, Emperor of Eire.” With a flourish, he bowed low and gestured to Magnus.
He cleared his throat. True, the introduction had changed since the slaying of Bantus and Marann’s conquering of Larna, but it was not complete. He caught Clem’s startled gaze and nodded toward Danu.
Clem straightened hurriedly. “A—and—” he said, “Lady Seona, Sister of Anya.”
Still not a complete introduction, but the closest they could get without endangering Danu by revealing her whereabouts. Magnus stepped forward with his goddess anchored at his side. She stood as tall and regal as he, and pride filled him from toe to crown.
Polite applause filled the hall. He spoke into the clapping, setting a tone of efficiency for the feast. “You have heard, I am sure, that we are at war.”
At this blunt statement the hall fell silent.
“A war unlike any we have fought before. In the past, we have fought battles with fists, axes, swords, and arrows. Today, we face an enemy not of flesh and blood but of spirit. We face evil incarnate, and that evil has hold of our children.” He paused, letting his words float softly to the floor in the deathly silence.
“With Danu on our side, we have seized victory before, and we will seize it now. We will rescue our children and defeat evil-doers and evil-makers alike. Good will prevail.” He squeezed Danu, seeking to encourage her as well as his people—their people.
His soldiers shouted in agreement, and the guests cheered, but he sensed the restraint in it, the hesitancy to believe all would be well. Truly, it had been many years since all had been well. Even if they reclaimed their children, they would still be on the verge of extinction. No rousing speech could change that.
He cut the half-hearted cheers short. “There will be time for celebration,” he promised. “But we must ride this day. Only a fool indulges in meat and wine whilst an enemy fortifies his position. Maranners are not fools!” he shouted to a round of applause and cheers a little more enthusiastic than the first. “Maranners are brave! Maranners are strong! Maranners are cunning! Maranners will win the day!” With each shout, his audience supplied more enthusiasm until he could almost believe they held hope for their future.
With morale as buoyant as he could expect, he gazed down at Danu and kissed her forehead. She returned his gaze with cautious happiness that touched his soul.
The crowd settled into murmurs.
He spoke into the noise. “It has been two moons since our last battle.” The crowd fell silent. “In that battle, Lady Anya—” He motioned to the intrepid human, who sat at the high table in a position of honor. At her narrowed eyes, he realized he hadn’t yet informed her of his discovery that Danu and Seona had traded places. Did she suspect as he had that Seona might be possessed by Hyrk? He owed her the truth and promised himself he would tell her privately as soon as he was able. He cleared his throat. “Lady Anya and her lifemate, Riggs—” He nodded at his friend, who had a protective arm around his lifemate. “Secured our victory by slaying our enemy, King Bantus.” Cheers went up, but he pressed on. “We were victorious, but at great expense, for through that victory, traitors were revealed.”
The cheers died. An uncomfortable silence prickled at the skin of his forearms.
Danu hugged his side, reminding him that he was not alone.
“My second in command, the man who would have sat the throne upon my death, proved himself a liar. A traitor not only to the throne but to Marann. To all of you.” He made eye contact with the noblemen who had been associates of Ari’s, letting them know he was aware of their participation in Ari’s plot, even if he had no proof.
It pleased him when they shifted in their seats.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” he said. “Our kingdom was founded on the principles gifted to us by our beloved goddess.” He pulled Danu even tighter against him and met her surprised eyes as she gazed up at him. Holding her gaze, he addressed the room. “In the Teachings of Danu, it is clearly written that bloodlines are the bedrock of community. Any man or woman engaging in activities contrary to our breeding laws will find themselves in the company of Diana and the others now residing beneath our feet.”
He let the silence reign. Those who had spurned the lottery and paired one woman with many men in a single breeding season were traitors to Danu. He met the eyes of each unofficial traitor until they dropped their gazes to their laps. It did not take long.
“Promises made by those who oppose our laws are as substantial as dandelion fluff. Not only do such promises scatter when the wind blows, but where they land, weeds take root. Such weeds will be ripped out and stored where they will never see the light of day.”
“My strong king,” Danu whispered as she hugged his waist. He was only strong because she was here with him. He did not know if he would be this same king once she left him.
“With my cousin gone, there is an empty seat at my council table.” Many faces around the hall showed relief at the change in subject. “We gather this afternoon not just to send off our soldiers with luck and goodwill but to appoint a new council member. It has been suggested—by more than one person—” He caught Anya’s eye and looked around for Neil but did not see the former war chieftain. “That I am in need of a helper. A new second.” Around the room, several council members showed their agreement with enthusiastic nods. “I would ask Riggs, Son of Hilda, Lifemate of Anya, and Knight of the Crescent Moon, to rise and come forward.”
Riggs had just taken a sip of beer and promptly choked on it. Anya slapped his back and nudged him until he stood from his seat.
The big man’s legs looked shaky as he climbed the steps. As always, when he was in Magnus’s vicinity, he rounded his shoulders in an attempt to deemphasize his height. How many times would Magnus have to tell him not to do that?
“Do you accept your new position as second to the king of Marann?” he asked. “As aid and helper to the throne and as ruler should death come for me?”
Riggs’s bearded mouth opened and closed. He looked like a fish gasping for air.
Magnus felt his lips twitch in a smile, but he kept his expression serious. “It is a simple question, friend. Answer ‘I do,’ or ‘I do not.’”
Riggs swallowed audibly. Finally, he gathered himself and said clearly, “I do, Sire.”
“Then kneel.”
Riggs took a knee, bowing his shaggy head.
Magnus drew his dagger and touched it to Riggs’s right shoulder then his left. Then he used it to cut a lock from Riggs’s hair from the base of his bowed head. Holding the blade and the lock of hair aloft, he said, “With this sacrific
e, you take on a heavy mantle. Rise and stand by my side.”
Riggs shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, but he obeyed.
With Riggs on his right, and Danu on his left, he said, “Esteemed ladies and men of Marann, Women of the human realm, I present to you Riggs, Second to Magnus, Keeper of the Throne of Marann until such time as Danu—” Sadness clogged his throat. He cleared it and pressed on. “Until such time as Danu blesses me with an heir.” He could not fathom Seona allowing him to plant his seed in her womb. He had lost the only opportunity he had to do so last night. Because of Hyrk.
The crowd erupted in applause. Around the perimeter of the room, soldiers hollered their congratulations. Riggs had earned their respect not just through defeating Bantus with the help of his small lifemate, but through his quiet humility and spirit of service.
The celebration was bittersweet, but Magnus did not let his sadness show. Forcing a smile, he clapped Riggs on the back and sent the blushing man to his seat.
Anya locked eyes with him and nodded her approval, but when she cut her eyes to Danu, Magnus knew her patience was at an end. With that look, she demanded an explanation.
Magnus spread his arms. “Everyone, eat. Drink. Be merry. Send off your warriors with gladness in their hearts.” A small group of fiddlers and bards began playing, and the feast was underway.
Clem and Kell went to their seats at the ends of the high table while Magnus offered his arm to Danu. “I would like nothing more than to steal a few private moments with you,” he murmured into her hair while he pulled out her chair, an ornately carved seat that echoed the style of the smaller throne. He took his own elaborate seat, but angled it so he could be as close to his lady as possible.
“But you cannot,” Danu finished for him. Her sad smile meant she understood. He must be here to encourage his troops, to comfort his people. This was not a time for him to hide away and seek his own comfort.
