by C A Nicks
“I need time.”
“No more time. Unless I misheard you, we’re engaged. I’ll be back later this afternoon to cement our deal. And don’t look so sad. I’m not a bad sort. I’ll treat you right.”
The sad thing was that he probably would. He’d been a good husband to Sunas. Shown real grief when Alie, his second wife had died in childbirth. Not one of his children had survived to their teens. His desire for a healthy heir was painful to see.
Nothing was ever cast in black and white. As she watched him drive away, she couldn’t decide whether Hal was villain or saviour. Possibly a bit of both. She picked up the silver ring and turned it over in her hand. Alie’s ring, she couldn’t miss the symbolism of Hal passing it on to her. No laughing matter, but today she seemed unable to summon up a better reaction to having two men wanting to gift her with children.
Must be something in the air.
She stayed in place until the wagon disappeared at the bend in the road. Hal had all but told her he was hedging his bets right now. Upping the stakes when she was already neck-deep in potential disaster. Did she prefer Hal as a friend or an enemy? Not as simple a decision as it appeared.
Resolutely, she returned to the studio and this time found herself a lump of clay to bash and give vent to her anger. Storing it up would only lead to self pity and resentment and she wanted a clear head with which to think this through.
Fabian appeared a few moments’ later and stood silently watching her thump the clay onto the table. The warrior who fell from the sky. And then who, in the words of the old proverb, had proceeded to make her life a heck of a lot more interesting.
She still had to shake herself sometimes when she looked at him. Touch him to make sure he was real and not some dream she had yet to wake from. He had the look of a man preparing for action, his grim expression, tempered with an underlying calm that scared her more than his bluster.
“So what did Hal want?”
She dumped the clay in the bin, slapped on the lid and wiped her hands on her pants.
“He wants you, Fabian. He wants you.”
Chapter 10
Had Tig not been there, he would have gone after the man himself. The time for waiting was over; now was a time to act. And if he did not, the window of opportunity would close and he would be forever stranded in this world, perhaps as a slave, more likely as a fugitive.
From the snatches of conversation he’d managed to hear he’d discovered that Warrington’s leadership was by no means assured. As he’d predicted, others would want to test their sword arms before Warrington consolidated his power-base.
He’d also learned that Hal wasn’t averse to playing a two-sided coin. And that Tig had suddenly decided to marry the man after all.
“Hal’s seen my drawings. Told him they were fiction, but he’s not fooled. He’ll be back this afternoon. What do you want to do?”
The hint of defeat in her voice alarmed him. She wasn’t wearing the ring Hal had thrown down.
“In my world, we like to keep our enemies close.”
A flicker of alarm crossed her features. “You want him to meet you?”
“A seer is always of use. Is he to be trusted?”
“Depends on what you have to offer. Every man has their price as they say.”
“A price you have already paid. Am I right?”
“I only said it to throw him off.” She felt in her pocket for the ring. Threaded it onto her finger and held it aloft. “Seems I’m engaged to be married.”
He took her hand, inspected the silver filigree and then before she could react slid it from her finger and flung it across the room. It pinged off the stone wall and rolled away under the bench. Instead of anger he was alarmed to see only resignation in Tig’s eyes.
“Do what you like with it, I’m still engaged to be married.”
“You cannot intend to go through with it.” At least he had his answer now. He definitely did not want Hal to have Tig.
“Well of course I don’t. But for now, appearances are everything.”
He remembered the day they’d met. Their verbal sparring, the way she lied to him so blithely. A betrothal could not be broken so lightly. Hal seemed to want her with a passion that went beyond a man wanting a desirable woman.
“As Warrington’s lackey he would have his pick of the camp women. Why does Hal pursue you so vigorously when you very obviously do not want him?”
“He’s had no luck producing an heir. The wars left a legacy of birth defects and infertility. He probably suspects I might be able to give him one. Or maybe it’s because I said no and he’s a stubborn man. Beats me why he should want a scraggy thing like me.”
“You still do not know your worth?”
“My worth is whatever you men put on it. Isn’t that right?”
He understood what scared her and why she’d retreated behind her defensive shield. “Your sacrifice honours me. But it is not necessary. Hal will follow me because I promise him better prospects for advancement. He will not need inducements.”
She patted his arm. He had yet to work out whether the habitual gesture was meant to patronise or comfort.
“It goes like this. Hal will offer to help you to escape from Warrington’s clutches in return for me. When he realises you mean to make a leadership challenge, he will offer to help you in return for me. Are you getting a picture?”
“You do not have to explain it to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Tig.” He wanted to take hold of her, to soothe the hurt and murmur words of reassurance. To erase the taste of Hal’s kiss. Like the bravest of warriors, she endured her wounds stoically and without drama. What she failed to realise was that she didn’t have to. He wanted to comfort her as he had before. The feeling, so new, fascinated him. Would that he could explore it further.
“Come into the house and tell me about Hal. I will meet him when he returns and we will find out together how high he’s set his sights.”
Tig nodded slowly. “You’re probably right. I can’t keep you a secret for much longer and if you leave you’ll be betrayed within days. You really intend to make a leadership challenge?”
“I will require a power base and the wealth that goes with it. I know of no other way.”
“Don’t get yourself killed. I don’t think I could bear it.”
The fight would be to the death. Neither of them would give nor expect quarter. He for the outrage of the challenge, Warrington for the threat he posed if left alive.
“Your constant references to my potential demise are disconcerting. I would prefer to assume my victory.”
“Then assume we will.” Tig swept an expansive arm about the room. “Then when you’re filthy rich and powerful maybe you’ll see your way to setting me up in business? Could do with a new kiln, some paints and brushes. A gold-thread jacket to fool clients into thinking I’m more successful than I am. As a kind of thank-you for saving your life, and all?”
She was the master of the brave face. An aspect of humanity he’d rarely witnessed given how his mere presence had been enough to turn most people into snivelling heaps, grovelling on their knees for his mercy. He tried to imagine her primped and pampered, draped in the sheerest of silks, adorned with the rarest of gems. How strange that her current appearance, the ill-fitting cloth shirt, worn pants, patched at the knees, sturdy work-man’s boots, was far more appealing than the artificially enhanced finery of his wives.
“You dress like the lowest of peasants and yet you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“By the sound of things, you don’t want for peasants in your world. If you can’t help me I’ll have to take out a loan and then I’ll never be free.”
When she pushed back her hair and glanced again around the room as if taking stock of her meagre possessions, he felt such a jolt of emotion, a sharp ache deep in his chest that he had to turn away to stop himself from lifting her up onto the bench and taking her right there until the
y both screamed out for mercy. Humans had a knack of communicating their pain, and possibly their joy, to another. He would share this burden with her, if she let him.
“You will be well rewarded for all you’ve done for me. But golden cloth will not suit you. Stay real, Tig. Do not clothe yourself in deception.”
“Oh, it will suit me well enough. Let me worry about that.”
Back to the brave face, and with it, the knowledge that she was well equipped to survive this world. The thought assuaged some of the guilt at leaving her. Some, but not all. A return to immortality would bring with it an eternity of wondering about her fate. A fate he would never know.
“So this is what you’ve been hiding.”
He did not need to look at Tig’s shocked face to realise Hal had returned. Smoothly, he stepped between Tig and the man’s voice and then turned around, heart beating curiously fast. Not with fear, Hal held no visible weapons, and even if he had come armed, he would not live to see the sunset.
Anticipation? This confrontation was his first real step into the wider world. The first sortie in a battle that might see him home.
Hal was trying to read him. The man frowned, a look of puzzlement clouding his features. Face impassive, Fabian gave him full access, watching Hal’s expression cycle through options he could hardly believe.
“Where are you from?” Hal had the good sense to show a little more deference than Tig had at their first meeting. Fabian brought forward a memory of himself on the throne of gold and peacock feathers. Of the terror on the faces of the defeated. The very lightning itself bowing to his command.
With amusement, Fabian watched the man fight for calm. A calculated narrowing of the eyes told him Hal was already considering his options. A decisive man, then.
“Hal?”
When Tig attempted to move from behind him, Fabian held her back. Wisely, she did not fight him. No woman would mediate for him with another man.
“Where are you from?” Hal said again, remaining in the safety of the doorway.
“From a place you are too stupid to understand.”
“Try me.”
“I would cut out your tongue for such insolence.”
“I doubt that.” Hal stepped fully into the room, gaze fixed on Tig, now. “Came back to check on my fiancé. Was worried about her.”
“There’s no need, Hal. He’s…”
Hal let out a thin laugh. Raised a sceptical brow. “The warrior who fell from the sky, I assume? Tig, you stupid girl, didn’t you realise--?”
The last word came out on a gurgled choke. Fabian squeezed the fingers circling Hal’s neck, taking him to the verge of consciousness before loosening his hold. When Hal flailed for the knife under his jacket, he slipped it smoothly from the sheath and sent it whirling across the room to embed itself with a sharp crack into one of the wooden beams. Hal fell back, heaving air into his lungs, hands raised in surrender.
“Just want to talk,” he gasped. “She’s taking a big risk having you here. I can help get you home. That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’s written all over your face.”
“If you can be of use to me, you will live to see this night and many more to come. If not, you will die here and now. A simple choice and more than you deserve.”
“Well, if you put it like that.” Hal coughed and spat onto the floor. “For pity’s sake, Tig. Get me some water. He has a grip like an iron vice.”
“Stay where you are.” Fabian put out his hand in warning. “We do not offer our enemies water. Make your decision.”
Hal straightened, taking a few moments too long to smooth down his crumpled jacket and rearrange his hair. “If I don’t reappear by three of the clock this afternoon, my wife, Sunas is under instruction to send word to Warrington. By sundown, he’ll have a dozen men here. What? You didn’t think I had this covered?”
“State your case. I’m not a patient man.”
“I can see that. My case is first and foremost Tig’s welfare. I knew she was hiding something. I had no idea it was this serious. Who is he, Tig?”
“An old friend. I’m allowed to have friends, Hal. We don’t have to report every move to Warrington.”
“Actually, we do.”
“You’ve told him?”
“Stay behind me, Tig. He would not have come alone unless he wanted to negotiate.”
“Ahh, so that’s it.” A spark ignited in Hal’s eyes. “The vultures always come circling after a leadership challenge. You hold yourself like a warrior, talk like one. You see a chance for advancement, I understand that. But why Tig? How did you end up here?”
“I found him.” Tig seemed determined to have her say, despite his warning glance.
“Attacked and robbed. Was going to turn him over to Carson. Make a bit of profit.”
“But of course, you couldn’t. How long?”
“That is of no concern to you.” The voice of command, somewhat rusty with misuse nevertheless silenced the man. The insolence of these humans came of ignorance of his true status. Of who he would be once again. They did not tremble because they did not realise the great Fabian Lucimanticus stood amongst them.
Strangely, that notion pleased him. On this world he had no reputation to precede him, to strike fear into the hearts of his foe. For once he would hold his cards close. This battle would be won by cunning, not a show of force.
“To help Tig out of this mess, I need to know what’s going on. What your intentions are. And if we can be of mutual benefit,” Hal added, a cryptic note in his voice. “I’m a seer, has she told you that?”
Fabian still wanted to throttle the man. Unlike Tig, Hal knew his worth, flaunted it and would use it to get what he wanted. He’d come with options, plans already formed in his mind. Outcomes considered. A hint of a satisfied smile ghosted over his lips, like that of a man who sees everything he’s ever wanted finally falling into place.
And yet Fabian found he could not shake the fluttering of his heart, the tremble in his limbs. The unseemly relish of the battle to come. Of the chance to test himself once more and reassure himself he remained a king capable of commanding armies to glorious victory.
Hal nodded slowly, acknowledging the feeling. How could he miss it? The air between them sizzled with pent-up energy seeking release. Tig must have felt it, too, but her face showed only resignation and perhaps a hint of sadness. Or even worse, disappointment. Not at her fate. At him.
A prickle of annoyance made him stand straighter and press his lips together in a grim line. He was a warrior, what did she expect? That he’d remain tied to her apron strings, dally in her bed while the strong walked over them and took what they wanted when they wanted it?
“We will go into the house,” he said firmly. “And we will talk. You may precede me.”
He didn’t miss the flicker of amusement on Hal’s face. The way he spread his fingers as if to show he carried no more weapons and there would be no back-stabbing this day.
Fabian refused to take any chances on that. Not with the first glimmer of a way out of this nightmare in his sights. Conflicted as he was with making a deal with Hal, the man was his only real hope.
His biggest problem, now? How to extract Hal’s worth without using Tig as the bargaining chip.
* * * *
“Fabian.” Tig halted at the kitchen door, pushing away the over-eager dogs that seemed to sense the crackling energy between them. “I need to talk to Hal. In private. Give me a moment.”
“No.” He attempted to take her arm and usher her inside. She skipped out of his reach and motioned to Hal. No way were they closing ranks on her. She was a part of this and would not be relegated to the role of commodity to be squabbled over for personal gain. Either of them wanted to make a scene, let them. Her destiny, her choice and hers alone.
“Very well.” Fabian conceded with a curt nod of his head. “But you will remain within my sight. Is that understood?”
Okay, don’t push it too far. Not with the testosterone leve
l shooting through the roof. Raising a placatory hand, she stepped back into the yard and waited for Hal to appear. In the doorway, Fabian fixed them both with a glare that could freeze a whole lake and waited.
Hal spoke before she could open her mouth. Leaning close she felt his moist, hot breath on her cheek.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“You’re the seer. You tell me.” Didn’t either of them realise she could play poker with the best of them? Gazing at Hal’s expensive boots, she found she didn’t care whether he knew or not. In fact, better that he did know. Might stop him pestering her for marriage, for one.
“I don’t care if you are,” he continued. “But he’ll sell you out in a heartbeat. You do realise that? Men like that don’t do knight in shining armour. If you could feel how much he wants his goal, you’d know you’re just another stepping stone.”
“I didn’t call you out here for that.” She lowered her voice, aware of Fabian watching her every move. “About the engagement. You must know I only said yes to throw you off Fabian’s scent. Now you know about him, well it’s off. I’ve already made a deal with Fabian. When he gets what he wants he’s going to set me up in town.”
“And what exactly does he want?”
“Like you said, to go home.”
“You’re telling me he’s not a mercenary here to make a leadership challenge?” Hal grasped her arm when she moved away from him, dropping it immediately when he noticed Fabian step towards them in warning.
“I don’t know what he is. Only that he’s far from home and he longs to go back. And I want to help him.”
Hal caught the quaver in her voice as she spoke of Fabian’s imminent departure. Nothing she could do to hide those feelings from him.
“And where is home? His accent, the hair, his bearing, none of it add up to anything I can make sense of.”
She laughed. A brittle dry sound. “Says he fell from the sky.”
“It may be true.”
“Don’t mess with me, Hal. Tell me what you got from him. I need to know.”
