by Jane Henry
I shake my head. “Idan, you are capable of handling whatever decision must be made before our meeting shortly,” I say, but to my shock, Idan contradicts me.
“No, my lord,” he says. “It is imperative you come.”
I scowl at his impertinence. No one contradicts me. How dare he speak to me thus? I take a step toward him, but he holds up his hands. “My lord—I did not wish to say in a public place, but—” He pauses, and leans in closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We have news of your sister. The men have assembled at the dome.”
My sister? I freeze. My heart thunders in my chest, and I am filled with both rage and sadness. The last news that was brought to my ears, devastation to both my father and me, was that my younger sister, merely nineteen years old and princess of Avalere, was killed at the hands of the Freanoss inhabitants. Idan is right. I must hear the briefing as soon as possible.
Women are prohibited from attending counsel, but as Warrior King I could change the rules if I chose. However, I know not why Carina is here, and I do not trust her. I look quickly about me. To whom can I entrust her? It is not simply that I fear she will escape, though that is a possibility. I also fear for her safety. Though word travels rapidly, it is still possible there are those who do not know that Carina belongs to me. She does not yet bear my silver about her neck. Barely twelve hours have transpired since I’ve claimed her, and I have yet to make her mine in full. Though my claim upon her as king is law, ignorance may put her in harm’s way.
Idan eyes Carina. “You may leave her with me,” he says. I wish for him to be with me when I hear news of my sister, but there is none other I trust with such an important task.
I nod to Idan, as I turn to Carina. I take her by the hand and pull her close to me, so that her body is pressed up against mine. I wrap my fingers around her neck, making sure her eyes are fixed upon mine. “You are to obey Idan as if his commands were issued from my mouth, Carina. Do you understand me?”
She swallows, but nods. “Yes,” she says in a little voice, quickly amending, “Yes, my lord.”
I nod, releasing her. Though Idan is the one by my side in battle, the man who can be both fearless and brutal when necessary, I feel unsettled leaving Carina. I tell myself it is because I do not trust her, but deep inside I wonder if it is something more. I must seek the news of my sister quickly, so that I can come back to Carina. I leave her with a parting kiss upon her forehead, determined that our separation be only brief. She looks saddened, her wide eyes watching me as I take my leave. I must return quickly. Already, I wish not to be separated.
Chapter Seven
Carina
I watch as my savage master takes his leave. I do not realize until I’ve taken an involuntary step toward him, my hand outstretched, that I do not wish for him to leave. Embarrassed by my reaction, I quickly tuck my hand up against my chest, as if to protect myself. What is this witchcraft? The king’s aide has seen all. I give him a sidelong glance, trying quickly to assess his prowess. I must still find my communication device if I’m to be delivered from this place, and can only do so if I am to elude this man.
The king’s aide—Idan, he called him—is tall, though not quite as towering as his master. He has dark auburn hair that hangs low, tied at his neck, and a thick auburn beard. His chest is bare like his lord’s, strong and muscular, deeply tanned. The familiar black tribal markings also mar his neck, shoulders, and arms. He wears the same leather about his waist, the sword belt laden with two weapons, their handles gleaming in the light of the sun. He looks prepared for battle, though we are but standing in the marketplace. He gestures for me to follow him.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
He frowns. “When?” he asks. It seems he’s as demanding as his master. I am not sure how often these people eat, but it seems far more often than I’m accustomed.
“This morning,” I respond. But as we walk around the bend by the marketplace, I see he is leading me to a place with long wooden tables and stools flanking a long bar. My heart quickens, for just beyond the tables, I can see the arena we visited last night, where the king punished me. If I can but get to that place, I will be able to find my way to the forest, where my communication device lays hidden. If I can only reach the Freanossians, I can alert them to what has happened, and request backup. I’ve learned nothing of the Avalerians’ plans, though. I must discover their purpose.
I have paused too long. The man comes to my side, and to my shock, his hands go about my shoulders, pulling me closer to him and walking rapidly.
“Come with me,” he said. “Though you are marked by my lord, he has entrusted you to my care. You must stay close to me and do as I say.” His voice softens a bit. “I cannot let a hair on your head be harmed, my lady. What are you called?”
I begin to give him my identity, “R—” but pause. No. I have been given a name. I clear my throat. It is the first time I have uttered my name aloud. “Carina,” I say. The word feels pleasant to my tongue, and I feel a bit shy saying it.
“Very good, Carina,” Idan says. We have now reached the long table. “Sit upon a stool, and I will fetch you something to drink.” He pulls a stool out for me and I sit, while he lifts a hand, gesturing for the young woman at the counter to come to him.
She approaches our table and bows when she approaches Idan. “What may I get you, my lord?”
Idan waves a hand. “Glenderberry juice for my lady,” he says. “Nothing for me.”
She scurries away. I take a moment to observe my surroundings. There is an older, wizened man at the counter, drinking a small tumbler of amber liquid. To the right, there is a round table with a young man and a woman, talking and laughing quietly to themselves. Behind us, I see a young woman rise, and the man she is with accompanies her, as she walks to two doorways. She holds a finger up to him, and he politely turns away as she enters one door. I then realize she is perhaps visiting the Avalerian facilities. Though they are likely primitive, this very well may serve my purpose, if all men of Avalere refrain from entering the area dedicated to women. I will observe the others, and see if this might be my chance.
It is odd for me to see people about like this. We do not partake in such activities on Freanoss: milling about, jovial laughter, various couples of men and women bowing their heads and speaking to one another intimately.
When the girl brings me my drink, I thank her and look to Idan. He nods, as if giving me permission to drink. He smiles. “I am not your lord, Carina, so you may eat and drink at your leisure with me.”
I feel a faint flush of the cheeks. The ways of the Avalerians are still quite foreign to me. I lift the glass. The juice is a deep red, fragrant, and when I sip, I note it is both sweet and tart. I see another woman walk toward the door, and yet another man refrain from following her. This is exactly what I need.
I enjoy the juice. Like everything else I’ve tasted here, it is delicious, and I find myself quite refreshed. But my time is short, and I must hurry if my plans are to fall into place.
“I need to… relieve myself,” I say, intentionally trying to sound embarrassed. My voice shakes a bit, and I hope he assumes I am merely shy, not nervous about attempting an escape.
Idan frowns, his arms crossed on his large chest. His jaw clenches, as his eyes flit around. He raises a finger to the woman who fetched my drink. She scurries to our table. My heart is thundering in my chest. Will my plan work?
“Please show us the way to the facilities,” he says.
“Certainly, my lord,” she says, gesturing for me to follow her. I feel Idan close at my heels, as we walk. For a moment, I fear that the ‘facilities’ will be as barbaric as the rest of this land, or that Idan will behave unlike the other men and follow me inside. She leads me to a small doorway and gestures for me to go inside. It looks to be a very simple, but fortunately clean latrine. I nod my head to Idan, and can tell from his stature and the stern nod of his head that I am indeed correc
t—he is not following me. I duck into the door quickly. Outside the door, I hear Idan talking to someone. A minute later, I peek through the doorway and see Idan gesturing to the man, whose face is red, angry, his voice raising as his hands fist by his side. This will be my chance. I quickly duck out the door and shut it behind me. Idan has not moved, his voice rising as he responds to the man’s challenge. No one is watching me. This is my chance.
I move quickly past the tables and chairs and out by the open doorway, keeping my head down and my steps quick, but not so rapid that I will draw suspicion. A minute later, I have escaped. No one is around me now as I pick up speed and trot to the arena of the night before. It looks different in the light of day, smaller than I remember it. I quickly skirt behind a large stone wall so that I am not as visible as I was before. The wall allows me to observe while still providing me cover. There in the distance, I see the large stone dais and chairs upon which the warriors sat. But my stomach drops as I look.
I need to get past the dais to the woods beyond. But right between where I am and where I must go, is the dome-shaped building where the king was headed. I fear my path will bring me closer to the savage himself. I groan. If I am captured, I will be punished.
I have no choice. When my savage master returns, I do not know when such an opportunity again will arise.
Ducking low, to avoid being seen, I begin my quick mission to the dais, past the dome that leads to the men who are at counsel. My feet move swiftly, but I feel exposed in the bright light of the sun. The heat warms my skin, perspiration dripping between my breasts and down my neck. My mouth is dry, my stomach twisting in nerves and anticipation. I am but a few paces away from the dais. I feel as if my cover is insufficient, and I am on display for all to see. As I approach, I hear the deep, commanding, very familiar voice. To my left is an entrance, and my suspicions are confirmed as I near. This is where the men have convened. I stifle another groan.
“This news changes everything,” the king says. Unable to stop myself, I sneak up to the doorway, listening to his words. “If what the messenger says is true, then we must hasten to Freanoss at the first opportunity. It is clear now their accusations of theft against us were merely meant to distract us from their real purpose.” I grow cold. A distraction? So the Avalerians are not stealing the resources from Freanoss? My eyes close. If what he says is true, then my mission has been in vain. He lies. The barbarian lies.
“At my command, I wish the Legion of Warriors of the First Rite be prepared for battle,” he says. “I have much to ready before we go. It is my wish to convene at our scheduled time to meet, but the agenda will be quite changed.” I hear a scraping of chairs, voices rising, and I realize with a sudden drop of my stomach that they are preparing to end their meeting. I turn from where I crouch. I must flee.
Speed is now more important than ever. My feet quicken to a run. I have trained well, and can run swiftly, my feet flying, chest rising as I gasp for air. A few more paces, and I will reach just beyond the dais. It is thankfully vacant. Without another thought, I quickly move to the large stone wall. Just a few dozen paces beyond the wall I will come to a clearing, and it is within this clearing my device has been hidden. I step quickly behind it, and when I do, I freeze. There are four large, bearded men huddled around one another, conversing. Their heads snap up when they see me. Each is thin and wiry, with the same long hair as the soldiers, but they are without the tribal markings about the neck and arms. The one in the center grins at me, but the smile makes my stomach clench. He begins to walk toward me.
“What have we here?” he says, licking his lips. “A fair maiden unaccompanied?” I see that behind him, the other men have several pouches spilled on the ground between them, a pile of golden coins reflecting the rays of the sun. Though the men look friendly enough, my instincts tell me otherwise. The man’s eyes darken as he frowns at me. “A maiden caught unawares,” he says. His words are slurred, his eyes unfocused. “She’s seen our faces and our purses,” he murmurs. I am beginning to backtrack now. I need to get away, but if I go back to where I came from, I will be visible to anyone who is within sight of the dais. I hear shouts behind me, and footsteps approaching. My stomach twists. I am trapped. Before me are men who would do me harm and behind me, certain capture.
He takes another step toward me. “And here we have a helpless maid,” he drawls.
I freeze, waiting for him to draw closer. “A helpless maid who will fight you to the death,” I hiss, hoping my threat will at least delay his advance while I can plan my move. Behind me, the voices grow louder, advancing.
The man’s eyes narrow to mere slits. “You’d challenge me, woman?” he asks.
“I challenge the lot of you,” I taunt. The others now approach. I will soon be taken, as even with my fiercest struggle I cannot conquer four grown men. But I will try.
He reaches close enough to me to grab me, and his hand lashes out, snatching at my hair. I deftly block him, my left forearm halting him, as with my right, I drive my fist to his stomach. He groans, doubled over, as his partner reaches me. I kick out my foot and connect with his stomach, but the third has now grabbed me, his arms around my chest. I kick back, and his arms rise, going to my neck but I bite down as hard as I can, tasting blood as he howls in rage and pain.
“She’s marked!” shouts the fourth. “Hands off! She wears the king’s blue and is marked!”
The man holding me releases me and I spin, landing another well-placed kick. With a howl of rage, he charges toward me with a vicious backhand blow. My head snaps back. My vision is blurred, my ears ringing, as I fall to the ground. Strong hands grab me, and I fight with all I can, until a stern voice makes me freeze.
“Do not resist, my lady.”
I crane my neck to see the familiar auburn beard, hair, and stern eyes of Idan. He is holding me tight, dragging me backward, away from the brawl in front of us. When we are a few paces away, I can now see the scene in front of me.
“You stay by me and do not fight,” Idan growls. “You will answer for your flight, as will I. Do not make this worse for either of us than need be.” Though my heart sinks, as I know my chance to escape is gone, I am riveted by the scene in front of me.
Half a dozen warriors have joined us, but in the very center is the king. He advances upon the man who attacked me. I have seen him angry, but I have never seen him as furious as he is now. His eyes are cloudy and dark, his cheeks aflame with anger. He charges the man who hit me, the full force of his fist hitting the man’s jaw. I hear a snap, and the man howls, falling to the ground as the king grabs him by the hair, yanks him up, and knees his stomach. The man grunts, trying helplessly to defend himself but he cannot. The king lifts him to his feet and hits the man repeatedly. Blood spurts from his nose, and he cannot stand upright, but falls to the ground. The king grabs the back of his head, baring the man’s neck, while at the same time I hear the ring of metal as he removes his sword from its sheath. He is going to murder him, slice his head from his neck without another thought.
“No, my lord!” I shout. The king’s hand freezes, his sword raised to slash. He turns to face me. My stomach twists in fear. It is the face of a warrior that now stares back at me. Ruthless. Vicious. Prepared to kill.
“You have no say in this,” he hisses. “This man laid hands on my woman, and the wages for such a crime is death.”
“Please, my lord,” I beg. It is not that my sympathies lie with these men, but rather than I cannot abide the thought of the king executing another in front of me. “Perhaps it is not the custom of your people, but execution after a trial is justice. This would be murder.”
He is the king. He can do whatever it is he wishes, with no recourse. He stares at me, inhaling deep breaths through his nose, his narrowed eyes causing me to shake. He drops the head of the man, who falls to the ground limply. The king takes a step back and orders his men. “Take them to the arena and have them flogged, then imprisoned. We will investigate their actions, and they
will answer in court for their infractions.” He turns and speaks in quiet words to the men around him, giving orders.
Idan’s grip on my arms is strong, and I wish to be released. “Let go of me,” I hiss at him, but his grip merely tightens.
“You have disobeyed the king’s orders as well as mine,” Idan says. “I know not from where you come, but in this land, women are to obey the men above them. If you were mine, I would take you across my knee and whip you soundly, but the king will see to your discipline. Do not compound your punishment now.”
I scowl at him and he merely lifts a heavy brow. “He’s chosen a feisty one,” he murmurs, with a shake of his head. I simply turn away. Perhaps I will find a means to escape just yet. Or perhaps I will be even longer at the mercy of the barbarian.
* * *
In short time, the robbers have been taken away in shackles. I am still in the mighty grip of Idan, as the king sees to ordering his men about. Finally, I am left with only the king and Idan, the three of us standing in the clearing, Idan’s grip immovable.
“You will come to me, now,” the king says, his nostrils flared, eyes dark with fury. His lips are thinned, and he’s still panting from the exertion of charging the men who attacked me, his chest gleaming with perspiration. “If you run now I will catch you,” he growls. “I will strip you bare and whip you, taking you back through the marketplace striped and naked.” He pauses. I know he means every word of what he says. “Release her, Idan.”
Idan obeys. Though free from his grip, I am far from free.
On trembling legs, I approach the savage. He is scowling, his eyes mere slits as he grasps my arms firmly, pulling me to his chest. I crane my neck to look at him, and his eyes meet mine. Though he is furious, I also read something else. Could it be… disappointment? To my surprise, I am struck with a faint twinge of sorrow at having disobeyed him. I tell myself that it is merely exhaustion and the strangeness of my surroundings that have muddied my emotions. I owe him no allegiance. I must escape. I will escape.
