The Redwood Rebel (The Redwood War Book 1)

by Lorna George

  He could feel Naomi crouching mentally, watching and waiting for him to try something they hadn’t agreed on, to hurt her somehow. He tried not to be offended by her obvious mistrust, knowing how much this invasion was costing her peace of mind.

  He was more grateful than he could ever say at her allowance. It had taken him completely by surprise that she had so readily agreed to something he knew with utmost certainty she found so totally abhorrent. He also knew from a few stray thoughts she had accidentally projected that she saw this as little more than common decency on her part, and he wondered not for the first time how he had ever managed to think so badly of her.

  Moving his magic gently through Rayan, cleansing his wounds and helping the flesh knit back together, he knew he should be angrier than he was for the state his cousin was in, but all he could feel was relief. He had very little family, just Rayan and their uncle, Darius, and the idea of losing either of them was unthinkable. Rayan had been like a brother to him his whole life, and Esta a sister. He had been so happy, so full of joy to see her alive, if a little worse for wear, he was ashamed to admit it had taken him a moment to even notice Naomi’s absence.

  When he finally did, the guilty looks on the faces of Sergeant Naseem and that upstart, Rostam, had been enough for cold fear to drop in his belly like a lump of rock. Esta had breathlessly filled in the details between sobs and hugs, even as his rage blinded and detached him briefly from his senses. Both men had accepted the tirade mutely.

  Arun had then turned his fury on The Watcher, but the enigmatic stranger had only shrugged at him, a ghost of a smirk so infuriatingly similar to Naomi’s, he had yelled something about Ffionites clearly finding no fault in lying by omission. The Watcher didn’t even flinch, and not getting the fight he was hoping for, he had then blasted into Naomi herself, feeling an odd gratification to at last have someone shout back at him.

  It surprised him how much better he felt when she snapped back, considering only a few days ago all he wanted in the whole of Ilios was for her to shut up and do as she was told. He had admitted only yesterday morning that being treated without any artificial reverence was a refreshment he was rarely afforded, and he hadn’t been lying. Her frankness was unusual, and on occasion unpleasant, but it really was nice to be spoken to as an equal. To put aside all the duties and the façade of dignity and perfection that was expected of him and just say what he meant, even if it was irrational and sometimes foolish. She would just roll her eyes to the sky as though praying for patience from the gods, and while infuriating, her reactions were always truthful and without artifice. He knew on some level it did him good.

  Apparent masochism aside, he knew the instant she yelled back at him that she was well, or as well as could possibly be hoped, anyway. He had been afraid for her safety, truly afraid. It had shaken him to realise that it really had been her he was afraid for, as well. The possibility of civil war in Koren if he didn’t provide an heir, the great weight of expectation and duty he had been dealing with for what seemed like forever now hadn’t even crossed his thoughts when he found out that she was in such danger. The memory of her attempt at slitting her own throat when she had thought he had come to take her back to her captors just a few days ago wouldn’t leave him alone, and he feared for the state of her mind.

  The absolute terror she had been trying vainly to smother at being locked up in the dark, just like in her nightmares, just as he knew she had been for years under Chloris Castle, had been like a punch in the stomach. It had ignited a burning rage inside him that he was even now struggling to extinguish.

  The dragon shifted inside him, growling bestially and with a primitive possessiveness he knew without doubt that Naomi wouldn’t appreciate in the slightest. He had also sensed her anger and fear on Rayan’s behalf, her resolved horror at doing whatever she needed to do to help, and her revulsion at the very thought of it. He knew this process was tying her up in painful knots, going completely against her better judgement and her cultural beliefs that this sort of thing was unnatural, but he was comforted by her relief to have the problem taken out of her hands and into his. She hid it all very well, he had to give her credit, but when the Bond was this open, it was impossible to hide almost anything. That had been the problem when he had felt such overwhelming emotion he had made her ill with the force of it.

  He hadn’t meant to, and even now he felt incredibly guilty for shoving so much of himself into her decidedly tiny body. While he usually had a pretty firm grasp on himself and his magic, the sound of her laughing without any kind of sarcasm or cynicism had broken something inside him. He had heard her laugh before, sort of, and really he knew it had been him laughing rather than her, but the sound had been so beautiful Arun knew he wouldn’t be able to rest easy until he heard her laugh that way without his interference. He remembered the way The Watcher has described her, how much she had changed, and it brought a whole new hatred for Adrienne to the fore.

  Naomi had a definite sense of humour, that much was indisputable, but despite The Watcher’s avowal of her as a “laughing girl”, it always seemed either forced or sarcastic. Of course she hadn’t laughed in the years she had been Adrienne’s prisoner. Her own cousin had murdered her family, brought her country to near ruin and left her to rot in darkness and solitude. What was there to laugh about? It would beat the humour out of anyone. He had heard her snort derisively, chuckle dryly and on occasion watched those green eyes dance with suppressed amusement while her lips twitched in silence, but never laugh. Not really.

  Being inside her far too-small body and seeing the world from her perspective was intriguing. He wondered how someone so little could be so unafraid of a world so much bigger, but being inside her mind had given him the insight to realise that she wasn’t unafraid or unaware of the danger she faced. She was just used to having the odds stacked against her, that was all. It made her courage all the more precious, her veneer all the more admirable. Part of him, the part that clawed to get to his mate, wanted to lock her away from any pain that might touch her and keep her safe, but another part, a more human part, knew that was never going to be the way to treat her. It would break her to be smothered and protected, and while he couldn’t quash the way he had been raised, he owed her the respect of freedom.

  Naomi was damaged and broken, scarred inside and out, but she was a fighter through and through. He would offer her his strength when she needed it, encourage her to lean on someone else for a change, even just once in a while, but he also believed he could rely on her just as readily. She was fierce, and he knew now more than ever he wanted to keep her in his life. He wanted to make her laugh freely, wanted her to trust him, and more than anything, wanted to be worthy of her.

  Sighing between her soft lips, he finally had reached a point in Rayan’s healing where he could pull back. He was about to retreat entirely to his own body, feeling her mentally look up with interest and faint relief to see Rayan looking so well again, but he knew after this strain their Bond would be out of action for a few hours. Reaching down, he touched his cousin’s now healed and scarred shoulder with a relief of his own.

  ‘I’ve done what I can, but he’ll still be weak when he wakes,’ he informed her quietly. ‘Make him rest. He won’t want to, but he’ll need it if he’s to be fit for escape tomorrow.’

  Naomi shifted forwards again and he waited patiently while she found the right mechanics to answer him. ‘We can’t wait until tomorrow. It’ll have to be tonight.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, rather than trying to demand she do as he’d said.

  ‘The harpies mean to interrogate us tomorrow. I may have, uh… stretched a few truths in order to be allowed access to Lord Rayan.’

  He felt her anticipation of his censure, but he couldn’t seem to find his usual annoyance at her far too-regular manipulation of facts. She never out-rightly lied, but she had a way with words that could sometimes make you think one thing when she meant another. He smiled with her mouth, and taking a chance,
lifted her hand and brought it up to briefly kiss her knuckles. It was an odd gesture he supposed, in this form at least, but from the flash of embarrassment and indignation she experience, he knew she understood his meaning.

  ‘I’ve asked you repeatedly to keep your hands to yourself,’ she snapped, and he felt a little sorry for ignoring her discomfort.

  ‘They aren’t really my hands,’ he tried to justify himself, then changed his mind. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so grateful to you for saving my cousin, it seemed an appropriate gesture.’

  He felt her face twitch and her cheeks burn, and was fascinated by the sensation. She sniffed petulantly. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  Arun was hard-pressed not to argue the point, but he knew her well enough by now that forcing her take the credit she deserved would only make her more uncomfortable. The magic was waning quickly.

  ‘I’m coming to get you,’ he promised. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Arun, wait. You can’t. I know Pearpetal, I can get us out without your help. They want you to come here. Just stay with Tristan and try and get a message to your ship. We’ll be back in a few days, alright?’

  He smiled at her concern for him, but felt the Bond weaken sharply and begin to pull him back away from her. ‘Don’t do anything reckless until I get there, little Firefly.’

  ‘You’re the one being reckless,’ she growled. ‘I’m getting us out of here tonight, whether you like it or not.’

  Opening his mouth to inform her that he would be there before dawn tomorrow, Arun shuddered and suddenly found himself back inside the Moss Tortoise, staring up from the plush ground to Esta’s tear-stained face. He sighed, feeling his body heat back up with the reoccupation of his soul, and flexed his stiff fingers experimentally. Everything seemed to be in working order, but the Bond was too weak now for him to reach back out to Naomi and explain his plan. He’d just have to hope that Rayan would keep her there once he woke.

  ‘Oh thank goodness,’ Esta breathed, taking his hand in both of her own and clutching it to her chest. ‘Everyone’s alright.’

  He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and smiled. ‘For now, at least. I need to get to Pearpetal as quickly as possible. The woman doesn’t listen…’

  ‘You need to rest,’ Esta chastised him. ‘You’ve expended a lot of magic and if you’re planning what I think you’re planning then it’s dangerous to try it when you’re weakened.’

  ‘I’ll rest shortly,’ he promised. ‘We need to get a message to The Leviathan, try and find a safe port and arrange to have everyone there at the same time. We’ve lingered in Ffion far too long.’

  ‘There’s a small cove a little South of where we are,’ The Watcher spoke up, and pushing himself up onto his elbows, Arun found him crouched not too far away. ‘It’s enclosed by the forest on all sides, so with a little help from the Dryads, we should be able to defend the area easily enough from enemies on the ground. I’m not as sure about these harpies I’m hearing about, though.’

  Arun grinned at the other man. ‘Don’t worry about the air. I can take care of that if it comes to it.’

  ‘I suspected as much,’ The Watcher shrugged. ‘I can send a fairy to carry a message to your ship as well, if you need me to?’

  Feeling the tug of sleep, Arun settled back down onto the soft moss and sighed with relief. ‘Thank you. Will you help guide my people through the forest?’

  ‘Of course. I promised Naomi.’

  Eyes sliding shut as fatigue overtook him, he smiled slightly. She had lied, had gone out to find Esta while deliberately misleading him, but she had meant to come back. He knew she had. She had kept her word, and even now planned to bring Rayan back to him. What was more, she had made sure that they could escape Ffion even if something happened to her.

  ‘Arun, please take me with you?’ Esta begged quietly, causing him to open one eye to look at her. She was tired and ill, but he understood her desire to get to her husband. It had been a close call. She set her face, or tried to. ‘I can help. I can fight!’

  It was true that when they were children she had taken sword instruction with Rayan, her brother Parsham, and himself, but she had always been terrible at it. She hadn’t been born a woman, not in the technical sense, and pretending to be something she wasn’t had been a strain he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He’d been glad when she had finally put her foot down, the only time he had ever known her to assert herself, and refuse to play along anymore. She really had been appallingly bad at it, anyway. He almost pointed this out to her, then decided to try something kinder.

  ‘We’ll need you here to communicate our mutual positions,’ he said, then raised his voice slightly. ‘You’re in charge while I’m gone, Lady Bastiaan.’

  For a moment she looked mutinous, then seemed to realise that she really was more useful here instead. She nodded, lowering her eyes. He felt a twinge of regret, but knew it had been the right decision. She would see Rayan soon enough, and they had a better chance of success with just the three of them. In the meantime, he needed rest.

  ‘Wake me at dusk,’ he yawned, muscles heavy and eyes stinging. ‘I should have rested enough by then for the spell to work.’

  It would soon be time to reawaken the dragon from his slumber.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  For the first time since the unfortunate mix-up with Arun, Naomi had her mind completely to herself without having to erect powerful barriers to keep her privacy. It wasn’t as pleasant as she had expected, and she couldn’t seem to keep herself from shivering uncontrollably. She told herself it was just shock from having another consciousness taking up residence in her body, but with her teeth chattering and muscles clenched in painful spasms, she knew that wasn’t all it was. Not for the first time, she cursed the existence of the Korenian Bonding spell.

  Glancing down at the still comatose Rayan, she could already tell how much better he was doing, and knew despite how awful she was feeling herself, she couldn’t honestly regret being in a position to offer assistance. There were scars from where his wounds had been, fresh and pink enough that she knew from experience how tight and uncomfortable they would be for the next few weeks, but they were no longer a threat to his life. The sheen of fever-induced perspiration was gone, and his dark skin looked healthy again. His breathing was even, as though he was simply sleeping, and she hoped he would awaken soon and in well enough condition to execute their escape.

  Arun had taken her blatant disregard for his plan to come running to their rescue surprisingly well. She hoped he realised that she was being deadly serious when she told him she was leaving tonight. There was no way she was spending any longer locked up than she absolutely had to, and once she’d made sure that Rayan was capable, she was off.

  Not that she was locked in here, she acknowledged, tucking her hands under her arms and rubbing briskly at her sides. The cell door was still very much open, and with the dagger tucked safely in her boot, Naomi wished Lord Rayan would wake so they could take full advantage of this opportunity. There were two guards at the bottom of the stairs, but she could take them alone if caught by surprise.

  They only needed to get up to the next floor to be on ground level, and there was the old servant’s wing not too far from where they were. Even if they had staff there, what boot boy or scullery maid was going to risk their neck to stop a pair of formidable soldiers breaking out? The pay was bad, and there was likely very little loyalty for the regime that ran the country these days. Even if they hit garrison guards, what chance would they stand against herself and Rayan Bastiaan, of all people? Certainly it was likely that he was weakened from his wounds, but he was still the greatest swordsman in all of Ilios. Even at half his strength, his strategic knowledge was a bonus that few could boast. Naomi couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be attempting an escape with.

  As for herself, well. She was out of practice, but not so much that she couldn’t take a few young and poorly-trained boy
s with swords. They had left the cell door open, for heaven’s sake. She had been trained to defend herself since she was five, and frankly, a few years in prison weren’t enough to completely erase that sort of schooling. Even despite the chill that was seeping into her bones and the hollow void that seemed to be yawning in her chest, she could again see how the Bond had healed her malnourished body.

  Oh, she had always been small, much to the disappointment of her father, and later to her own advantage as opponent after opponent underestimated her. Still, she felt almost back to her regular size. She could even see a little muscle definition in her arms, making her smile involuntarily. They wouldn’t have much trouble, not unless they ran into the harpies, or if she was beaten near to death the way she had been when her imprisonment in Chloris had begun.

  She shook harder and tried to clench down on the shuddering of her body. There was no point in thinking about that. This wasn’t the same situation. She had been at a massive disadvantage then, heartbroken at the loss of her family, her mother’s death still tormenting her, the betrayal of her cousin shocking her beyond reason, stripped of her magic… She had been left as nothing but an empty husk, the fight well and truly beaten out of her as she waited to die.

  Deep in her thoughts and huddled against the cold that seemed to come from inside herself, Naomi didn’t notice the scuff of boots on the stone stairs until they were approaching the cell. Coming immediately to attention, she spared another glance at the sleeping Commander and forced herself up to her feet. She felt a little unbalanced, but determinedly planted her feet and stood between the open cell door and Lord Rayan.

  ‘My Lady,’ said the guard Christophe, stopping just inside the door and bowing. He had a large basket of the supplies she had requested, but as he placed it down on the floor, his eyes wondered over to the now visibly healed Lord Rayan. Jaw dropping, he looked both surprised and pleased. ‘He’s well! But how?’