Rogue's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  Oh, so wrong.

  “Alas…” Leargan cocked his head to one side, studying him. Making him want to squirm.

  Could his captain see through him? “Aye?” he croaked.

  “I want you to do this because it’ll be a nice change of pace for you.”

  “A change of pace?” Again, the query came out cracked, delayed.

  “Aye. You seem discontent with your duties as of late.”

  His instinct was to protest, but his captain was right. Alasdair didn’t have it in him to train men-at-arms to the sword, even though he did enjoy his time with the lads. Too bad everyone commented on his apparent skill as a teacher. “I don’t mind lessons with Alaric, Brodic, and Lucan.”

  They’d been living in peace, and while it was more than acceptable, he’d been itching for some action. Some kind of change. A challenge. A fight that meant something. A battle, even.

  Sparring kept his skills sharp, but was missing an edge of danger he thrived on.

  “Aye, I know it. Those can remain the same, our young squires and Lucan are improving under yours and Roduch’s tutelage,” Leargan said.

  He let the praise roll over him, and offered a slight smile. “I’m sorry I was transparent.” Alasdair prayed Leargan had only spotted his unrest about his duties, and not about Lady Elissa Durroc.

  His captain grinned. “We’ve known each other a long time, you and I.”

  Alasdair chuckled, forcing himself to relax. “Aye, so we have. I appreciate that you know me so well, is all.” At least at the moment.

  If his captain noticed his attraction to the lass that was now his charge, would it change his new duties? Leargan knew he valued his self-control as much as his sword, so probably not.

  He had no intention of acting on his draw to Lady Elissa.

  “You know me just as well.” Affection shone in his captain’s dark eyes. “So, other than your afternoon lessons with the lads, your day-to-day will be with Lady Elissa. She’s staying in the guest wing, so you’ll move to the room next to hers, to be at close hand.”

  The lass must be in grave danger if he needed to be at her side, at the ready all times of the day.

  Alasdair arched an eyebrow. “Tell me what I need to know.”

  “I’m getting there.”

  He forced himself back in the chair, loosening his shoulders. “Why does she need a guard when she’s safely within the castle walls?”

  “The king will take no chances with her. She’s not to venture out of the gates.”

  “Understood.”

  “Some very dangerous men are after her for her magic.”

  “And she doesn’t know this?”

  “Nay.”

  “Hasn’t the king learned keeping information from smart lasses does no good?” Alasdair smirked.

  Leargan looked as if he was fighting a smile. “I have a feeling Lady Elissa is a bit more placid than Lady Cera or my Ansley.”

  “But there is fire in her eyes.”

  His captain paused.

  Alasdair swallowed a curse.

  Leargan was really studying him now.

  Why the hell did you say that? He tried not to fidget on the chair—an urge so foreign Alasdair froze and intentionally pushed his shoulders into the wooden back of his seat. He cleared his throat.

  “Do you remember the lass murdered a few sevendays past? From that small holding on the northwestern border of Greenwald and Terraquist?”

  “Of course.” Relief washed over him that Leargan made no mention of his comment.

  “She was the first of three. Whole families slaughtered.”

  Alasdair cursed. “How is it tied to our new lady?”

  “They were all blonde, and of an age with Lady Elissa.”

  “Shite. They’re looking for her.”

  “Aye, so the king and my father-by-marriage think. But they haven’t a clue where she is.” Leargan shook his head.

  “And we need to keep it that way.”

  “Aye.”

  “Who’s after her?”

  Leargan’s regret was palpable. “The king doesn’t know. The second lass lived at a holding in North Ascova, within a day’s ride of Terraquist. The last lived in Terraquist, a few hours from Terraquist Main. Tomorrow, the king wants to see the Greenwald site. He’s taking his twin mages and Lucan. Maybe the three of them working together can find magical answers.”

  His captain launched into a story twenty turns past. One of murder and magic that’d left a wee lass an orphan.

  Alasdair’s gut ached. He might not have any magic to speak of, but his own childhood wasn’t so different than the queen’s beautiful cousin’s, as far as missing parents went. “What does Lady Elissa know?”

  “That she’s here to meet her suitors. The king wants to keep it that way. He’d like to steer her toward Lord Camden Malloch, the Duke of Dalunas.”

  He swallowed again, trying not to wince at the fact he would see her with men—one of which she’d marry. He’d see them court her, make her smile. Make her laugh?

  Like he had.

  Alasdair frowned.

  Lady Elissa is not for you.

  Which was just how he wanted it.

  She was noble—likely innocent—so he couldn’t bed her anyway. Which was all he was interested in. Perhaps he needed to go into the city. He’d not had a lass for almost a month, his longest period of celibacy in turns. Greenwald Main had some nice taverns. And he had a lass in every one.

  “When do I move to the guest wing?” He cursed the shake in his voice, and the eyebrow his commander arched at him. Again.

  “The king isn’t leaving for a few days. So if not tonight, tomorrow is sufficient. Take your time to gather your things, if you need to.”

  “All right.”

  Leargan’s eyes roved his face but his captain said nothing.

  “I’ll protect her.”

  “I know you will.”

  He needed to lighten the mood. He couldn’t have Leargan looking at him like that. “Perhaps I’ll advise her who to marry.”

  His captain laughed. “You?”

  “I’ll never marry, but I’m not so bad at helping one choose a mate.” Alasdair arched an eyebrow of his own, giving his captain a long look. “Need I remind you I knew Mistress Ansley was your match before you did, my dear captain?”

  Leargan laughed. “Right. And clouded her mind with reprobate stories. She is still hassling me to tell her what happened in the stables.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “That, my friend was your doing. You brought it up. I only told her about you getting your hide tanned when we got caught watching the servant girls bathe.”

  His friend grumbled, but wore a smile as he shook his head. “Well, just warn me before you go sharing any more epiphanies. Or better yet, never share any more with my wife.”

  “Of course, Captain. Your secrets are safe with me.” Alasdair grinned.

  “I don’t believe that for a second. She bats her eyes and smiles sweetly and you’ll tell all.”

  “Well your lass is no hardship to look at, Captain.”

  Leargan mock-growled.

  He laughed again. “You’re lucky she’s been busy with the twins.”

  His captain beamed, his pride as a father practically radiant. “They’re getting so big, I can’t believe they’re nine months old. Brogan looks like me, despite the red hair. Of course, her father is overjoyed our son is a redhead like him, but Brynn already has the big man wrapped around her pinky, despite my dark locks, or so Captain Murdoch says.”

  Alasdair couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He was happy for his friend, but had no desire for the same. Lady Elissa popped into his head and he fought a frown.

  “Well, I’ll not keep you any longer, unless you have questions?”

  “Nay.”

  “As progress develops, we’ll discuss it. The king and Lord Gallard are continuing to investigate.”

  “Lord Aldern and yourself as well, I would assume,
since murders were in our Province.”

  “Aye, of course.”

  “I would rather assist you and the duke.”

  Leargan smiled. “You are. Keeping Lady Elissa safe is just as important as finding who’s done this.”

  Alasdair tried not to grumble like a spoiled lad. “Very well.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nay.”

  The captain stood. “Good. I’d like to dance with my wife before the feast ends.” Leargan clapped him on the shoulder. “Come, my friend. I’m sure there’s a lass or two awaiting you, since I secreted you from the great hall.”

  Alasdair smirked.

  Too bad the first thing to pop into his mind was a pair of hazel eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Sleep had done him good. Although he hated to admit it, Drayton had no idea how much time had passed. He stood from his soft pallet and stretched. His back popped, but it felt good, as if he was letting go of built up tension.

  He breathed deeply, in-out, in-out, for several minutes. The silence of his dank home enveloped him. Not even a drip of condensation could be heard. No air moved, since it couldn’t pass through his spell-wall. It was neither hot nor cold in the large cavern.

  Drayton closed his eyes and centered himself where he stood. For the first time in days…maybe months…he felt good. “Better than good.”

  His first two steps away from his bed told him his legs didn’t ache.

  There was no delay when he called to his magic. Warmth rushed his limbs, loosening him even more. Bathing him in light and contentment.

  It won’t last long.

  It was always like this when he woke from restorative sleep. The false hope that everything was all right with his body…his powers.

  The negative thoughts made him frown and he pushed them away.

  Drayton wouldn’t have to endure this…existence…for much longer. He’d have the lass soon, absorb her magic, then search for another like her.

  A child he could raise.

  The plan that’d been botched with the lass all those turns ago could finally see itself through.

  He wished one of the dead lasses had been the one he sought. All three had had children already. Drayton could’ve probed them for elemental powers. Might’ve even gotten lucky to find one. Magic was passed through the generations, after all.

  Too bad he couldn’t wait to absorb the missing lass’ powers. If he had a turn or two, he could sire a child with her. She was so powerful there was no doubt her own blood would be strong like her. He could live for more than a century with the lass and her child’s powers.

  It mattered not that he was thinking of killing his own child. Blood liked blood, and an elemental of his own line could make him even stronger.

  Too bad there hadn’t been any others like him in his family, though they were long gone by now, even his youngest sibling. He’d hunted down his descendants—the children of his siblings, as well as their children and theirs. Not one of more than one elemental power in the line. He’d killed them all in a rage, down to the last wee one.

  Hindsight reveals all.

  Drayton lifted his arm, said a few spellwords and smiled when the cavern lit up before him. The draw of power hadn’t weakened him. He jogged up the steps of his dais. Whirling around the place still didn’t wind him—body or magic.

  The invigoration was odd, considering the degradation of his form as of late, but perhaps the trance he’d put himself into before he’d passed out had done its job. Hopefully it would last longer than the previous time. He was tired of feeling his three-hundred-and-twenty odd turns, even if it was only natural—even more so since his turns had been stolen.

  Natural wasn’t a word he was fond of.

  Drayton refused to die.

  He paced the length of his dais, his fingertips pressed into his bottom lip. The half-breed needed to work faster. This false energy wouldn’t last long.

  The lass was strong. The most powerful elemental he’d ever encountered, even more so than himself with his natural powers at the peak of his turns—when he’d been in his mid-twenties.

  Young. So young.

  Their encounter had stunned him, considering she’d been under two turns old. It was a waste to just take her magic. He needed to make it last longer somehow.

  Drayton’s thoughts spun in chaos that made his temples ache. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother—the source of his magic. She’d been a powerful elemental like him. He’d been her favorite child—which said a great deal, considering she’d given birth to seven.

  She’d passed by the time he’d absorbed the first mage to sustain his life. Most of his older siblings had as well. Most of his siblings’ children had been grown and old by the second. No one from his bloodline had been alive for the third.

  He could still see the surprise on his family’s faces when he’d slaughtered them. But he should’ve kept the children alive. Bred them. There could’ve been an elemental eventually. Even one with mastery over only one power would sustain him for a period of time. Months. Perhaps a turn.

  “That’s it!” He froze as his voice echoed off the massive cavern ceiling.

  Drayton would seek an elemental—any would do, though he could hope for a young water mage, since he was drawn to water most.

  Then, when his lass was captured, he would get a child on her. Keep her alive until it was born. Test it for magic. Absorb the lass’ powers and raise his child—or kill it.

  He smiled and made a fist.

  Always liked when he had a plan.

  A foolproof plan it is.

  * * * *

  Elissa took a breath and let her eyes sweep the guestroom. She smoothed her hands down the front of her silver gown. She’d chosen it as homage to the Province she was staying in. She preferred the glimmery silver fabric more to the pale green color of Greenwald.

  The queen had gifted her with it, though her cousin had given her a dress of Greenwald green as well, and many others to meet her suitors. The delicate lace embellishments on the bodice of the silver gown made her feel feminine. It was even finer than the blue dress she’d worn to the wedding. One of the finest she’d ever worn.

  “The color of your gown matters not.” Her shakiness made her close her eyes.

  Pull yourself together. Now.

  She was supposed to meet Sir Alasdair so he could escort her to the great hall.

  Where she would meet the first of her suitors, Lord Avery Lenore.

  The last two days of relaxation and enjoyment had been divine. She’d had no duties. Now her true purpose for being in Greenwald came crashing down on her—with the arrival of her suitor.

  Her first night in the Province had been…pleasant. Elissa liked the residents of Castle Aldern very much. She’d be sad to leave this place when the time came.

  After all the dancing and chatting with the ladies—not to mention the ride in—she should’ve so been fatigued that she’d collapse in bed. However, a certain pair of blue eyes had haunted her every time Elissa had closed her own.

  The second night hadn’t been much different as far as the knight was concerned. As a matter of fact, after spending most of yesterday with her chaperone, her thoughts of him before sleep had probably fed her dreams. He’d been at the center of every one.

  Elissa had walked in the gardens with Sir Alasdair. She’d taken her meals with him. Talked with him. Laughed with him.

  It’d been nice. More than nice.

  This morning—her third in Greenwald—Elissa needed to focus on meeting her suitor, not on the distraction of her knight. Although, he’d be with her the whole time.

  Was she dreading that?

  Or taking pleasure from it?

  She sighed, her thoughts dancing back to the wedding feast, unbidden. Even after they’d danced, her eyes kept finding him. And most of the time he’d been looking her way.

  Her heart skipped—then and now.

  Why had the knight been watching her? />
  Well, of course that question had been answered, hadn’t it?

  Turned out it had nothing to do with them dancing, so enjoying his company yesterday had been foolish—as was looking forward to being with him again, in any capacity.

  Fantasy dissipated a bit.

  He hadn’t been at her side of his own accord. Sir Alasdair was stuck with her.

  She was an assignment.

  Elissa frowned—and not for the first time. Didn’t want to be anyone’s charge. It rather ruined the day she’d spent with him, didn’t it?

  Besides, two and twenty was an adult. She was fully capable of making her own decisions; she didn’t need someone to watch over her at Castle Aldern. The king wouldn’t have left it up to her to choose her husband if she’d been too inept to make choices, right?

  Scooting to the bed, she fluffed her pillows—it was as unnecessary as the earlier smoothing of her gown. Magic skittered down her spine. Elissa flexed her fingers and took a breath. She pushed her powers away—or tried to.

  The bowl of washing water perched on a pedestal in the privy started swirling. She didn’t have to see it to hear the sloshing as it whirled like a cyclone.

  “Stop. Get a hold of yourself.”

  Desperate for a distraction, she made one more loop around the rooms she been given. The space was more than she’d shared with Dara in Terraquist, complete with a private privy, sizable hearth, as well as two sitting areas—one by the fireplace, and the other by the window. There was a desk and ornately carved wooden chair in one corner. It even had parchment and ink at-the-ready, in case she wanted to craft a missive.

  The bedding was dark green and ivory, and the mattress was the most comfortable she’d ever had the pleasure to sleep on.

  Much finer than home.

  Home?

  Elissa had no home. She knew not where she’d live.

  Tarvis? Dalunas? South Ascova?

  Emotion tightened her chest and she blinked away the urge to cry. Magic tingled her limbs again and she cursed in her head—using a word no lady of gentle breeding should know—let alone utter.

  She hadn’t dealt with this much loss of control of her powers since she’d been a wee lass. It was as unsettling as her forced task of choosing a husband.