“Aye, Majesty.”
“Good, then. Fetch a ledger and make notes.”
“What is this?” Selwyn demanded as he stormed into the room.
“Silence!” Christian roared in an imperious tone that left Adara wide-eyed. “No one has addressed you, servant. My new vizier and I are discussing grave matters.”
Christian rose from his throne and stepped down toward the wall opposite the hearth. “This entire room needs to be redone. My queen doesn’t care for green.” He looked to her. “What color pleases you most, my love?”
She exchanged a nervous look with Lutian while Selwyn sputtered in indignation. “Blue.”
“Then let us redo this room in blue. Royal blue.”
“Seize him!” Selwyn snarled.
The guards looked to the marshal, who appeared sheepish.
Christian gave an exaggerated sigh. “You forget, servant, that the guard serves the king. You are—or should I say were—the regent ruling only until the king returned.” He smiled evilly. “Well, the king has come home. You are relieved of all your duties.”
“He’s not the king,” Selwyn snapped. “Prince Christian is dead.”
Without a single comment, Christian walked to the wall where Selwyn’s painting rested. He looked at it coldly, then knocked it from the wall. It landed with an echoing clatter. “Marshal, I want this burned.”
Selwyn started for Christian, only to stop the instant an arrow embedded itself beside him. He froze.
“I came with my own guard,” Christian said coldly.
Selwyn looked to the balcony overhead, where three of the archers were visible. The others were hiding with arrows at ready, and while they had been waiting there for his appearance, their number had grown to twenty from the thieves who had joined their ranks.
Christian turned to face the guards. “Take him.”
As they moved to obey Christian, Adara heard a loud cry from the antechamber. “Attack!”
She came to her feet as complete chaos erupted in the doorway of the antechamber. A large group of men came in, with Basilli leading them.
“Protect the queen,” Christian snarled, unsheathing his sword to join the fray.
Lutian rushed to pull her to safety. The two knights who had come with Christian pushed her into a corner so that they could form a barrier between her and the fighting.
Adara pressed her hand to her lips as she watched the fighting from over the knights’ shoulders.
Christian didn’t expect his people to fight with him, but to his surprise the guards Selwyn had brought immediately turned on the newcomers who were being led by a man not much older than Christian.
“Basilli!” Selwyn snapped. “They must be killed.”
“Must we?” Phantom asked with a laugh.
Selwyn ran for him. Phantom jerked and moved so fast that it wasn’t until the dagger embedded itself into Selwyn’s heart that Christian realized Phantom had thrown it.
“That’s for my father, you bastard,” Phantom snarled as Selwyn fell to the floor on his knees and pulled the dagger free. By his actions it was obvious he intended to use it against Phantom.
Phantom gave him no quarter. His eyes blazing hell’s wrath, he unsheathed his sword and drove it deep into Selwyn’s body. “And that is for my grandfather, who trusted you.”
Basilli cried out as he saw his father fall. Enraged, he lunged for Christian, who fought him back. Basilli’s men retreated as they realized Selwyn was dead.
Christian’s guards moved forward.
“Nay,” Christian growled. “This matter ends here and now. There will be no one left to threaten my child or my queen.”
Basilli sneered at that. “I will see both your whore and your whoreson skewered beside you.”
Christian parried his attack and countered it. He would give the man credit, Basilli was an accomplished swordsman.
But not accomplished enough. Christian caught his next stroke and disarmed him. “Take him,” he said to his guards.
Before they could, Basilli rushed forward, dagger drawn. He caught Christian off guard as he unbalanced him and sent them both to the floor. The impact knocked the sword from Christian’s hand.
Christian grabbed the man and punched him hard before he grabbed Basilli’s hand that held the dagger.
The guards moved forward again.
“Nay,” Phantom snapped. “Your king can handle himself.”
Christian lifted his leg and kicked Basilli in the back, lurching him forward. Basilli hissed loudly, his eyes flaring an instant before they widened.
It was then Christian realized that Basilli’s wrist had been turned during his lurch. The dagger in his hand was now embedded in his chest.
Basilli panted in pain as he let loose his hold. Christian pulled the dagger free as the man slid from him to fall back against the floor. Rising to his feet, Christian felt for the man and for the greed that had led father and son to such a fate.
He should hate them. Part of him did and always would. But the other part of him that had been raised in the Church knew his hatred would destroy no one but himself.
And he had far too much to lose now.
Christian made the sign of the cross over Basilli as the life seeped out of him. “Pax vobiscum, frater. May God be with you, and may He show you the mercy you never showed anyone else.”
“Mercy is for the weak,” Phantom snarled as he moved to stand over Basilli’s body.
Christian shook his head at his cousin. “That kind of thinking is what led them to this end, Phantom. Don’t let your hatred destroy you, too. They are dead now. Let the past go with them.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he almost saw admiration in Phantom’s eyes. “You’re a bloody damned fool, Christian of Acre.” He looked over to where Adara was moving away from her protectors. “But you’re a damned lucky one.”
“And I thank God every day for that.”
He really did. Adara had given him more than he had ever hoped to have. She had given him his life, his purpose, and now she’d restored his faith.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice.
Taking her hand into his, he placed a loving kiss onto her palm, then looked up to see the men watching him. They were looking to him for leadership.
And he was their prince and soon-to-be king.
At least in theory. In his heart he knew the truth. He might rule this land and these people, but the tiny woman before him ruled his heart. In her hands she held the only real power, and it wasn’t one of destruction. It was one of healing and of love. For that he owed her more than he could ever repay, and he looked forward to the years ahead of them.
Epilogue
The last two months had moved far too swiftly for Christian’s tastes. Everything about his life had completely changed. With Adara’s help, they had merged their two kingdoms into a force to be reckoned with.
After a few minor skirmishes with rebel lords who weren’t ready to give up the power Selwyn had allowed them to wield, Ioan and Corryn and their army had bade them adieu to return to Europe. To Christian’s shock, Phantom had stayed even though every day he asked Christian why he was still there.
Christian had no answer, but he was eternally grateful for his cousin’s ill-bred humor.
With every day that passed, Christian settled more into his role as king. If not for Adara, it would be unbearable to him. He still hated the feeling of stone walls around him, but there in the shelter of her arms, he could somehow forget about them.
Now he was in the throne room with Phantom. True to his word, it was completely redecorated. There were no remnants of Selwyn and it was a perfect blue to please Adara. He again wore his mother’s emblem, which had been found in Selwyn’s room.
The doors to the throne room opened to admit Adara’s cousin Thera, who had done well on the Taagarian throne during Adara’s absence. As always, she looked to Phantom and blushed, then bowed low befo
re Christian. “Your queen bade me to tell you that she is in labor, Majesty.”
Christian’s heart stopped at the words he’d been waiting for these months past with an equal share of dread and excitement. He couldn’t seem to do anything more than stare at the woman who bore a striking resemblance to his wife.
Phantom snapped his fingers before his face. “Baby, Abbot. Your child?”
Christian bolted from his throne. With no thought of how it looked for the king to be running as if the devil himself were in pursuit, he raced down the hallways until he reached their bedchambers.
He threw open the doors to see his wife lying in their bed with a circle of women around her. There was one surgeon waiting off to the side while the women offered comfort and advice to Adara.
The surgeon came forward as soon as he saw Christian. “ ’Tis unseemly for you to be here, Majesty,” the man said. “I will present the baby to you when he is born.”
“Nay,” Christian growled as he pushed past him. “I was there when my child was conceived, and by God, I shall be here when he or she is born.” He went to Adara’s side. Her beautiful face was strained, her eyes filled with pain.
Even so, she managed a smile for him, then she cursed him as she screamed out in obvious agony. Honestly, he hadn’t known his queen knew such an insult existed.
“Methinks we traveled far too long with Ioan’s men,” he said as he took the cloth from her maid’s hand and wiped her brow.
She glared at him as she panted. “I choose that you have this child.” She cried out again.
Christian kissed her brow as guilt consumed him. “I wish that I could, Adara.”
But she didn’t hear him as more pain shook her slight frame. Christian wasn’t sure what to do, so there he remained by her side as she struggled for hours.
It was just before dark when their son finally joined them. Adara fell back in relief while the surgeon examined the baby.
Christian felt the tears stinging his eyes as he looked back and forth between his wife and his son.
His son.
It hadn’t seemed truly real until this moment. He was a father and he owed it all to the exhausted woman lying in his bed. He kissed her gently and wiped at her own tears of joy.
“He’s beautiful, my lady,” he whispered to her.
The surgeon brought the baby to them and placed him in Adara’s arms. Christian stared in awe at the tiny infant who squalled angrily at them. He ran his finger down the side of the red, soft skin.
“What shall we call him?”
She looked thoughtful. “Lutian.”
Christian choked on the name. “Pardon?”
Her dark eyes teased him. “’Twould only be fair, given your treatment of him when he volunteered to donate himself for my cause.”
He growled at her.
“Then let us call him Josyn.”
“Josyn?”
“It means ‘Son of the Valiant’ in Taagarian. I can think of no better name for your child.”
He leaned down and nuzzled his face against hers so that he could inhale her sweet skin. “Then Josyn it shall be, but not for me. Rather he be named for his fearless mother, who crossed the known world to find a lost soul and bring him home again. Thank you, Adara, for everything you have brought me.”
Adara’s eyes teared up again at her husband’s words. She knew how hard it was for Christian to say such tender things and she savored every syllable.
“You were more than worth the journey, Christian. I would traverse hell itself for you.”
His gaze was tender and adoring. “I love you, Adara.”
A single tear fell as she finally heard those longed-for words. Not that she had really doubted his love. But it was nice to hear the words from his lips.
“I love you, too.”
Christian kissed her, then moved back so that she could feed their son.
Her maids congratulated her one by one, then left. The surgeon looked over the baby one last time before he, too, left them alone.
It was so intimate to be with her family. The three of them. She watched her husband closely while he said nothing. He merely sat on the bed, watching his son suckle her.
Adara finished feeding Josyn.
Christian reached for the baby. “I’ll take him so that you can rest.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What do you know of babies?”
“Truly nothing more than how to create them. But I should say that is only slightly less than you yourself know.”
He had a point with that. Laughing at him, she released her son to his father and watched as Christian’s large hands all but swallowed up the size of the baby. Christian snuggled the baby close to his chest and went to sit near the window.
The corners of her mouth twitched up as she listened to him telling his son all about the future Christian had planned for him.
Closing her eyes, she had just settled back when a knock sounded on her door. Adara wasn’t paying much attention as she heard Lutian come in to see the baby.
At least not until the word “Brotherhood” was spoken.
“What was that?” she asked, immediately sitting up.
Lutian looked at her sheepishly. “There is a call for their members.”
Adara’s chest tightened as tears gathered in her eyes. But she refused to let them fall. She had known this day would come. She’d only hoped it wouldn’t come so soon.
Christian looked away from her, his brow creased by indecision.
“You must go to them, husband,” she said quietly, even though her heart was breaking. She had seen the men’s love and devotion to each other firsthand. “I told you that I would never interfere with your vows.”
He came forward and placed Josyn beside her. “And I vowed to stand by your side as king and husband for the rest of my life.” He looked over his shoulder to Lutian. “Have Phantom take as many men as he needs and lead them. He will see to it that my honor is held.”
Her tears fell silently. “Are you certain? I don’t ever want you to think that I have interfered with your choices.”
He scoffed at that. “You are my life. My heart. My soul. I cannot survive without any of those. Besides, every time I have ever left you alone, you have found trouble of epic proportions.”
She gaped at his teasing words, which sparked her ire. “Me? You were the one who—”
He broke her words off with a kiss. “Aye, Adara, I am the one who loves you and who will never leave you.”
Her outrage fled before the wealth of love she felt for this man. For there was one thing she knew in this life that was true…Christian was, and would always be, a man of his word.
And nothing born of this world would ever take him away from her.
About the Author
Bestselling author KINLEY MACGREGOR knows men. She lives outside of Nashville, TN, with her husband and three sons. Raised in the middle of eight boys, and currently outnumbered by the Y chromosome in her home, she realizes the most valuable asset a woman has for coping with men is a sense of humor. Not to mention a large trash bag and a pair of tongs.
Writing as Kinley MacGregor, she is the bestselling author of the Brotherhood of the Sword and the MacAllisters series, and as her alter-ego Sherrilyn Kenyon, she is the New York Times bestselling author of the Dark-Hunter, Sex Camp Diaries, and BAD series.
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By Kinley MacGregor
RETURN OF THE WARRIOR
A DARK CHAMPION
TAMING THE SCOTSMAN
BORN IN SIN
CLAIMING THE HIGHLANDER
MASTER OF DESIRE
MASTER OF SEDUCTION
A PIRATE OF HER OWN
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, lo
cales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
RETURN OF THE WARRIOR. Copyright © 2005 by Sherrilyn Kenyon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
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