The group was now much more fixated on the big warrior and the price he offered. The amount he’d suggested might have been a fortune given the rush of excitement swelling around them. Alexander blushed under his coat and took a shuffling step back.
His movement drew Bennonton’s attention and the big man smiled over his shoulder at him. There was something warm and sweet in the way his gaze held him, and Alexander’s knees quavered in response. His golden eyes gleamed with some emotion that made Alexander’s chest feel too small for his thumping heart.
The smile curled his full lips and the man inclined his head. “Now, I must depart, there are things I must attend to and my peers grow weary of my shopping.” He glanced back in the direction he’d come and Alexander followed the look to the group of sullen young men impatiently waiting on him to finish.
“Majesty, will you walk with me?” He motioned to Alexander, and then began to walk away, trusting that Alexander would make his choice to come or not without any additional prompting from him.
Alexander glanced at the others who bowed and bobbed at him. They were too busy congratulating the young artist to hinder him. The young girl remained transfixed by him. Her liquid eyes locked onto him with the most mournful expression he’d ever seen. With a blush, she fixed the straps of her dress to modestly conceal her breasts now that her chances to woo him were ruined. He took the opening and sprang after the man, a flurry of pink petals spiraling around him with each leap.
“Well look at you.” Lord Bennonton stepped close to his side. “Spirit-Kin.” He ran his hand down to Alexander’s shoulder to his chest. His long fingers stroked through the ruff of fur that cloaked Alexander’s shoulders like a luxurious mane. A simple touch should not evoke such sensual delights in him. The girl had attended him more seductively with her brush and careful caresses and yet it had not set him on fire like this.
Oh, and he burned.
As though he felt it too, the man’s eyes grew heavy and he let out a long, trembling breath as his fingers pressed deeper into the fur. The moment shattered as the young men in his retinue snickered. “Stop making moon-eyes. Gods and devils, man, let us see how he looks like beyond his shade before you begin kissing him.” It was good natured, but made the powerful general actually blush. He drew his hand away, breaking the delicious contact.
Alexander sagged, his face radiated a volcanic heat and his heart pounded far too hard and fast. Thankfully, his fur hid the blush. The general held his gaze as he walked backwards towards the others. Alexander was pulled after the man and stumbled forward a step before he realized who was with him. Not only were there some of the guard, there were also familiar faces. Shylo and Yuli stood together, glaring daggers at him.
“What is he doing following after you like a puppy?” Yuli demanded. Moving forward, his hand went to the hilt of his sword. His mouth twisted in a cruel smile as the weapon slid free from the scabbard. The counterfeit peace ties fluttered to the ground at his feet.
“What are you doing, Yuli? Put down your sword. You dare draw steel?” Prince Shylo demanded, his gaunt face pale with shock.
Several of the guard and other people around him shouted out in outrage for his disregard of law. “Yuli!”
“You fool!”
“What are you doing?”
Yuli ignored the shouts and protests as he swung the sword at Alexander. The lordling threw himself between Alexander and the others, bringing the weapon up as he lunged at him. Sweeping the blade higher, he jabbed forward and down with a sharp, savage stroke. “Outsider. Vile creature! How dare you attack our prince,” Yuli roared as the blade came at Alexander’s neck.
Rearing up, Alexander twisted to evade the attack but he could not escape. The edge sliced him, cutting through his dark pelt and deep into his flesh. The kiss of the steel was unexpectedly savage and the blade was so sharp it sliced effortlessly into him. He danced back, shoulder burning as blood fountained from the gash. His blind escape sent him crashing into a vendor’s stand at his back. A flurry of sparkling gems flew into the air as his haunch smashed into the display.
“Look what you have done to my jewels! Bad omens. Bad omens!” wailed the enraged merchant. His hand flashed to the dagger at his hip, ready to draw it in retaliation.
More voices joined the mayhem as Alexander tried to get free of the tangle of the shattered wooden display and flee his attackers. They all looked ready to kill him.
“Don’t Yuli! It’s Festival. You cannot draw blood.”
Too late! Blood flowed down Alexander’s shoulder and chest. Crimson splashes marred the brilliant festival silks of those around him as he tried to twist away and escape without being cut again. Now Alexander was trapped between the furious vendor and the crazed young man and his sword.
Yuli’s eyes widened as he noted his advantage and bared his teeth. Rushing forward, both hands gripping the hilt of the sword, he set his foot and followed through with the lunge. The full strength of the young warrior followed behind the swing.
Lowering his head, Alexander gritted his teeth and braced for the steel to shatter the branches of his intricate horns. Pink flower petals blinded him for a moment as they swirled around his face.
The sword struck his antlers with a horrible, ringing crash. The impact thrummed through him, vibrating down his skull and neck into his spine. Ignoring the pain and with adrenaline singing through his blood, he plunged forward, bowling past the warrior. He sprang nimbly through the tangle of bodies to escape, expecting the bite of steel to drive into his flanks as he ran. He heard the young lordling scream but didn’t look back. There were too many of them. He was surrounded.
Through the pain and sounds and fear he thought he felt Mortari there in the panic though his only thought was running to escape.
Run.
Run!
More people had come to witness the violence and they formed a wall he could not break through without harming someone. His wings twitched but he discovered that he couldn’t unfurl them fully enough to get airborne. Shouting and screaming roared around him making his already ringing head throb with blinding pain. He might have let out a whimper of agony though he couldn’t hear over the chaos around him. Surrounded by enraged strangers he expected to be cut down. Every nerve in his body demanded he escape from the danger.
“Medica!” Bennonton’s bellow rose over all the other sounds and the general himself ran to his side, sword drawn, tattered ribbons of the snapped peace bond fluttering around his white knuckles. The pair of men flanking him shoved people aside to make a path to reach Alexander.
Alexander took a trembling step back, vision blurring with pain.
“Medica. Stand away from him. Stand away or be cut down where you stand. He is spirit-kin and my champion and I…I am…! Oh gods!”
Alexander eyed the space cleared around him, seeking for a way to escape until he saw the horrified look on Bennonton’s features. He found he couldn’t move his limbs at all.
“Don’t. Please.” Bennonton’s voice sounded stricken and he put himself into Alexander’s path. He reached up, trying to touch him.
Alexander jerked his head up and away, eyes rolling as he tried to see everyone at once. He looked for weapons and people coming at him. The vendor was still cursing him, his mother and all in his bloodline into the ages of forever.
A horrible groan of pain fluttered up from the direction of the shattered table and vendor’s stall. When Alexander looked back, he saw Yuli laying on the ground, bloody hands tucked against his chest, face white and horror-stricken as he writhed in agony. Around him and driven into his flesh were shards of his shattered sword. Prince Shylo was on his knees beside the lordling, arms around his cousin as he wept miserably.
“It isn’t your fault. Spirit-kin. My champion. My sweet, bright-eyed stag, this is not your fault. Stay. Do not run. I beg you.” Bennonton stretched an arm over his head and the trembling fingers brushed over Alexander’s jaw. The unsteady touch sent a curl of soothing w
armth through him.
He blinked down and into the man’s golden eyes.
“It is not your fault,” he said firmly and then turned his face away to shout, “MEDICA!”
The scream of war-mounts echoed his voice. It wasn’t just one, there were several and they sounded furious.
Finally, the medica struggled into view. The woman pushed her way through the fray and headed for the fallen lordling with a low oath but Bennonton barked at her, “Not that one. That fool can wait for your second. Attend my oath-bound!” The tone left no space for argument and the woman gawked up at Alexander and the wound on his shoulder and chest.
“Lord. I am not qualified to…to attend one of the…”
“He is not one of the Honored. He is spirit-kin.” Frowning, Lord Bennonton looked around and then commanded one of his guard, “A robe.” Turning back to Alexander, his fingers still traced over his jaw and up to his ear. The steady pressure of his caress comforted him. “You must reclaim your true form so we can address your wounds.” He shrugged off his shirt, headless of the blood that stained the vivid blue cloth and smeared down his bare chest.
Alexander whimpered softly as the fabric was slung over his shoulders. Bennonton and his guard formed a ring around him, keeping the others away. The wounds made releasing his spirit form difficult. Without the shelter of the shadowy veil, he had no protection from the agony. His fragile, naked human body crumpled under the weight of the pain.
Lord Bennonton caught him and carefully eased him to the ground, settling onto his knees beside him. He drew the big shirt around Alexander to offer some modesty as he growled his demands for the healer to help.
I am here, rider. Mortari’s stricken voice reached him through the pain and slowly helped to ease the worst of it away as he pressed closer. This is how you stay out of trouble? You are not very good at it. Perhaps you do require several mounts as my dam suggests.
“General, you must let me in closer so I can assist him. That means your mounts, too. Hold his hand. Yes, that’s fine.” Her concerned face replaced Bennonton’s though both of the man’s huge hands cupped around his. The rough fingers squeezed his tightly as though to reassure Alexander he wasn’t going to leave.
“This is Festival. Why weren’t your swords peace-bound? This is no dueling wound,” the woman said as she pressed cool fingers over the savage gash and then applied a white cloth scented with something minty that numbed some of the burning agony.
“Someone tried to kill the lad.”
“Murder!”
“He’s a traitor!”
Opinions lifted on furious tones over the Yuli’s desperate mewling.
A robe came at last and the soft silk settled over him, smoothed into place as Bennonton’s hand squeezed his.
“It will only require a few stitches. It’s fine, m’lord General,” the Medica said. “Be at peace.” She set to work doing just that as her second arrived to attend to Yuli’s wounds.
“You know,” Bennonton growled quietly when the stitches were completed and a cloth was wrapped around Alexander’s shoulder and chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on.”
“I…” Alexander blinked up at his furious scowl, heat rushing to his face.
Mortari agreed with a low grumble, Drinking melon liquor with girls of questionable moral fiber? You need an escort. My brother’s rider will serve a proper guard for you, Trouble.
As though he heard it, Bennonton’s expression softened and he chuckled quietly. “Gods and devils!” His big hand cupped Alexander’s cheek and he blew out a loud breath. “Yes, of course, you are Mortari’s rider. Where in all the hells did you stash your clothes, little imp?”
Chapter 13
The days that followed were a blur. Festival was secondary to the hearing that was held for Yuli, Shylo and a handful of their peers. Yuli’s wounds were serious, the result of shards of his sword driving deep into his exposed arms, neck and chest.
He nearly died.
During the struggle to save him, the truth came out.
Shylo was in love with Yuli. There was a bond and heart sickness, but not with Alexander. It started and consumed Shylo because he was afraid Yuli would mock his love. Yuli’s own behavior was the result of the bond neither he, nor anyone else, realized existed. He’d bedded half the girls in court before Festival as a means to purge himself of his desires. Then when Alexander arrived, it only drove the wedge in deeper. Sickness had turned to jealousy.
Within a day of realizing what happened, the two young men finally were able to see through the tangle of fears, lies and doubt. A grim-faced King Kulah called the higher lords together one afternoon a week later.
“I am sorry for the harm my prejudice and misinformation has caused. Now I must admit to the part I’ve played in what has happened. My beloved wife and I tried for many years to have a child. Everyone was delighted when our Yuli was born. However, while I fully accept him as my heir, he is not blood bound to me. We did not wish for this to become common knowledge as his conception was like that of our mounts. Who among us have not witnessed our mounts sire or carry young that are not the progeny of their mate? So it was my mount’s suggestion that my beloved share her bed with someone loved by both of us.” He glared around the room though no one spook out against him.
“Yuli’s sire is the brother of my heart and I could not be more proud of him or his discretion. We are not ashamed. Yuli is no blood of mine. Thus, he is not true cousin to Shylo, child of my sister.”
Yuli’s expression looked grim, though, and he glanced warily at Shylo sitting rigidly beside him. The young prince looked even more sickly and gray. His heart sickness was clearly not improving.
“As for my prejudice. I have been fixated on my own bloodlines. All Yuli’s life I have enforced our need for him to marry properly and provide an heir for the east. What father expects there to be a heart bond? Oh yes, I knew my sister had that happy blessing; however, they are supposed to be as rare as one of the Honored. My son believed my desire for an heir superseded his happiness. It does not. I am delighted to see the happiness that might flourish between these two foolish young men. I beg you to show compassion to them both. I throw myself onto the mercy of my peers for my part of the past events.”
“And what of the issue of you not having an heir, King Kulah?” That was Marlark, King of Tagraem, Shlyo’s father.
“I do have an heir,” King Kulah said. “Yuli is my first born and he will be next in line. He is responsible for his successor. That is a problem down a long road as I am in the best of health and have no plan to surrender my throne over soon.”
That soothed the fears over blood kin being soul and heart bound. It allowed the two young lords to begin healing their internal wounds.
Alexander’s spirit-form had taken no lasting damage at all from the blade. No one seemed surprised that his antlers had splintered the mortal steel. There were stories about it already starting to spin. He wasn’t proud and took no pleasure in the part he played. Instead he suffered the sting of shame for being tricked in their game. Every time someone began telling the story, Alexander found an excuse to escape. The painting that the boy completed was part of the tale too. The art inspired awe as it wove into the evolving legend even before it was hung in the throne room.
As Festival drew toward closing, the king came to a resolution for punishment. They extracted coin and stripped away lesser titles from the young nobles. There were other more costly prices no human could levy. What they’d done made them anathema to the war-mounts. By the end of Festival it was obvious that no blood horse or sapphire stallion would have them. They wanted nothing to do with those associated with the one who shed Zan’Dar’s blood during Festival and attempted to crush his heart with lies.
Heart bonds were sacred, not tools used in manipulation.
The young lordlings would be sent out to their first years on the border with mundane horses. If they survived, perhaps the next generation would be more
forgiving.
The best outcome during Festival was abolishment of hunting and poaching during migration. The regulation didn’t completely ban the practice, but it was the next closest thing. Unfortunately, some of the remote, primitive islands still believed eating the flesh of mounts was a spiritual privilege. None of the arguments during negotiations could sway these outliers.
As for Alexander, he spent every waking moment beside Bennonton. He even slept nights in a room of the tent that adjoined Bennonton’s. At first it was awkward. He was ashamed to be shadowed until he realized that it had little to do with protection and more because the general wanted his company. It took more convincing from his mount to assure him that he was safe. In the history of Festival, no one had ever drawn steel before Yuli’s foolishness. No one would do so again. It became normal and natural for the pair of them to be together.
Every member of the guard, particularly the officers, accepted him as smallest brother. That title was for someone who was an honorary member of the cavalry despite not yet being tapped into a regiment. Bennonton’s kindness to him invited the ranking guard to show the same kinship.
As Midsummer continued, their time together, as lovely as it had been, was coming to an end. Bennonton was preparing to leave for the border. Thoughts of the big warrior departing made his chest hurt. It shouldn’t be so painful. After all, Alexander had known all along that when summer ended everyone would return to their duties. Festival did not solve all disputes after all. The illusion that all the countries were at peace would shatter back to reality.
Bennonton and Chirmeng might be killed. He might never see them again.
“Are you all right, smallest brother? You didn’t swallow a bug just now did you?” Bennonton asked as he rode beside him. His bright golden eyes gleamed and his smile was as cheerful and unconcerned as ever.
Alexander didn’t even want to admit it to himself or his mount, though he knew that his little pest of a mount was already telling Chirmeng everything.
An End to Summer Page 10
