Everwylde

by Donna Grant

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Ravyn,” John said and lifted the back of her hand to kiss it.

  Ravyn straightened and dropped the hood of her cloak, showing a wealth of glossy, midnight hair. A single gold chain sat atop her head and rested on her forehead.

  Large eyes a deep, tawny color slid to him. The mesmerizing bronze orbs ensnared him. There was fire in her gaze, carefully hidden, but there for anyone who looked closely enough.

  And he was looking.

  Her oval face was something straight out of his dreams. Smooth, unblemished skin except for a mole near the left corner of her mouth. He nearly missed it as he gawked like a randy lad at her full lips.

  She stood demurely, her chin lowered just enough to give the illusion of meekness, but Carac wasn’t fooled. In fact, he was utterly intrigued.

  Because along with the fire he glimpsed in her gaze, he also saw strength and wildness.

  His body heated at the thought.

  “I do apologize for arriving unannounced, but this seemed the safest place with the war that rages. I have already taken a great chance by traveling with only my maid,” she said.

  Carac barely held back his groan at the sound of her sexy voice. The woman was a walking seduction.

  “You are more than welcome,” John stated with a wide smile.

  Carac saw the way John gazed at her with lust. With his ire already up, Carac needed little to spur him into action. He took a step toward John when Ravyn’s gaze returned to him.

  Whatever he had been about to do was forgotten as he became lost in her eyes. His anger was tempered as if doused by her presence.

  She shifted toward him, her cloak falling open enough for him to spot the hilt of a dagger. He would keep that to himself since she was going to such extremes to hide it.

  “Ah,” John said, his displeasure at seeing Carac evident in his tone and the set of his jaw. “Lady Ravyn, let me introduce Sir Carac.”

  “A pleasure,” he said as he bowed over her hand.

  Her lips curved ever so slightly. “Are you the one I hear is responsible for crushing the army that invaded Lord John?”

  Carac released her hand and straightened as he drew in a deep breath. He glanced at John, but refused to take credit for what happened on the battlefield. “I do lead the army that is here at the lord’s request.”

  “Then I suppose I should say congratulations,” she replied.

  The anger Carac experienced earlier came back with a vengeance. “No one is ever really a victor in war, my lady. Good men died today fighting for their lord. Whatever side they were on, it is a great loss.”

  “Carac, really,” John said, his lips compressing.

  Ravyn stepped toward Carac and bowed her head. “I agree with you, Sir Carac. It is a loss indeed. There are families grieving right now.”

  There was something in her words that caught Carac’s attention. He saw the honesty in her eyes, and after a few moments, the glimpse of frankness in her gaze was gone, as if a wall were erected as she turned to John with a smile.

  Carac didn’t hear the words that were exchanged as he tried to figure her out. There was something not quite right with Ravyn. While she certainly dressed and acted the part of a lady, she was hiding something. Of that he was certain.

  Because he, himself, hid something important, he was able to recognize it in others.

  “My word,” John whispered as he came to stand beside Carac when a servant walked Ravyn and her maid up the stairs. “She is something.”

  “It is not right that she is traveling alone,” Carac pointed out.

  John shrugged, seemingly indifferent. “It gives me reason to help her. I do need to continue my line. Perhaps it is time I think of taking a wife.”

  For some reason, that statement made Carac want to ram his fist into John’s nose.

  Chapter 4

  “You are playing with fire,” Margery admonished in a whisper once they were alone in their chamber.

  Ravyn faced her friend. “The only way we’re going to get answers is to be in the thick of it.”

  “I know.” Margery let out a long sigh and squatted next to the hearth to build a fire. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

  She put her hand on Margery’s shoulders. “We are Hunters. This is what we do.”

  “You are not telling me anything I do not already know,” Margery said as she turned her head to look at Ravyn. “But I cannot shake this feeling within me.”

  “I suspect we will only be here a day. The witch is here. I’m sure of it. Once I find her, then I will take care of things.”

  Margery shook her head as the flames caught and began to devour the wood. “And if she is not here?”

  “Then our hunt continues,” Ravyn said with a shrug. “Either way, we are only here for a night.”

  Margery stood and dusted off her hands. “I suppose you better get to work, then.”

  She grinned when Margery winked. “See—”

  “What I can find out from the servants,” Margery interrupted with a grin. “Aye, I know.”

  Ravyn could do this mission alone, but she was glad to have a friend with her. It was easier to do such work when there was someone watching your back, someone to confide in. But Margery’s anxiety worried her.

  After Margery left, Ravyn remained in the chamber for another few moments, thinking over her friend’s words. It was a dangerous game she played. But it was the same for every Hunter on every hunt.

  Ravyn knew in her bones that the witch she sought was near. She couldn’t explain why. It was just a feeling that had led her straight to this location. Of course, the rumors of a pretty blonde being seen right before horrible deaths occurred also helped.

  Ravyn knew that in order for her to find the witch, she had to mingle with those below. Talking instead of fighting. Thankfully, she was good at both.

  She exited the chamber and made her way down to the great hall. As she descended the stairs, she saw Carac shake his head in irritation as he walked away from John. The knight appeared to have no affinity for the lord. It was obvious by the way the two looked at each other that the feeling was mutual.

  Why then was Carac here? And why had John brought him there? More importantly, did it tie in to the witch?

  While at the tavern, Ravyn had discovered a great deal about Lord John. Most people didn’t have anything negative to say about him. He was known to be fair, if not ambitious. His recent dishonor with Lord Randall shocked everyone enough that it was all they could talk about.

  Which made learning about the plot of land that led to the battle easy. It had also been fairly simple to discover that Randall Bryce was far wealthier than John Atwood. And more powerful.

  Because John acted so out of character, it was best to look at those around the person in question. Upon her arrival at the castle, Ravyn saw how the army celebrated their victory. They either didn’t care what took place, or they had no knowledge of it.

  She was betting on the latter.

  The servants seemed on edge. Their gazes darted about, and any little sound made them jump. That could be because of John’s deceitfulness. It seemed the correct choice, but until Margery returned with a report, Ravyn would keep that verdict up in the air.

  As for Carac, the knight’s words about war and death made it appear as if he didn’t agree with the battle earlier. The way John rolled his eyes showed the line in the sand that had been drawn between the two men.

  If a witch were helping John, getting close to him would be difficult since the woman would be suspicious of anyone new. But Carac was another matter altogether.

  Ravyn stilled, waiting for John to walk away before she continued down the stairs. Once at the bottom, she went out the door to search for the handsome knight.

  Talking, even flirting, with Carac would not be difficult. She stood at the top of the steps and let her gaze move over those in the bailey until she found him.

  He was easy to spot with his blond hair
that shone as brightly as the sun. It hung to his neck, windblown and in disarray, something that she somehow found endearing.

  She grinned when he raked a hand through the thick length as he spoke with one of his men. He stood straight and tall, as if carrying the heft of an army on his shoulders weighed no more than her cloak.

  His face had the look of a man who saw and experienced much. It showed in the laugh lines around his eyes and the creases of worry on his forehead. The two-day growth of a beard only showcased his strong jawline and rugged features.

  By the small crook in his nose, it had been broken at least once. The scar on the right side of his neck was most likely only one of many hidden beneath his fine leather tunic. At first glance, the garment looked to be modest, but upon closer inspection when she met him, she had noticed the expert craftsmanship and the intricate design around the neck, shoulders, and hem.

  She let her gaze wander from his broad shoulders to the strap around his narrow hips that held his sword then to his black boots.

  When she raised her eyes, his green depths were locked on her. For just an instant, her stomach fluttered, but she quickly halted the seeds of desire that attempted to sprout.

  It didn’t matter that his eyes reminded her of a stormy sea churning violently with so many different shades of green that she lost count. She didn’t care that his blatant interest caused her pulse to quicken.

  Or so she tried to tell herself.

  Carac didn’t take his eyes from her as he said something to one of his men before making his way to her. Ravyn tamped down the quell of nervousness that rose the closer he got.

  “My lady,” he said, stopping below her and bracing a foot on a step above him. “I thought you would be resting after your journey. If you are here to make sure the gate is guarded, you have no cause to be frightened of Lord Bryce coming here.”

  She looked out through the gate to the road beyond. He spoke with such deference that she wondered how he would react to seeing her in her normal attire instead of the gown. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Sir Carac, but I am not one to be easily alarmed.”

  “That does not disappoint me.”

  Her gaze jerked to him as her pulse quickened. She searched his face but saw only truth reflected there. “Are you not like other men who believe women should be shielded, unable to make decisions on their own?”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I can see that you are a woman who decides things on her own. And, nay, my lady, I am not one of those men.”

  “That pleases me,” she said before smiling. It pleased her tremendously.

  “If you do not scare easily, what brings you here, knowing there is conflict?”

  She glanced down, her mind immediately conjuring Carac as he might look in armor riding into battle with his sword raised. “I am simply prudent. I have no wish to die, and I learned the roads may not be safe.”

  “I commend you for taking action, though I do have to wonder why you did not travel with, at the very least, a male servant for protection.”

  Ravyn didn’t want to like Carac, but she appreciated how he attempted to gain information without coming right out and asking. “You think that is unwise.”

  “You did point out the dangers. You never know what awaits you on the roads.”

  “I am capable.”

  “If you can use the dagger at your waist or the crossbow I saw attached to your saddle before your horse was led into the stables, aye, I would say you are.”

  She raised a brow. Perhaps she’d underestimated Carac. Instead of admonishing her belief that she could defend herself, he was asking more. How...curious.

  He grinned, a challenge in his eyes. “Afraid to respond?”

  “What would you say if I told you I could use both weapons?”

  “I would say it is good that you can defend yourself. Then I would ask who taught you such things?”

  Ravyn turned her head away as she thought of Radnar. “My childhood was unusual. I was fascinated with the weapons the knights around me used. One day, I picked up a bow.” She swung her gaze back to Carac. “One of them told me that if I were going to hold it, I’d better know how to use it.”

  “They taught you?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

  She nodded, smiling as she remembered that first day of training. “With any weapon I wanted.”

  “And your father? He approved of this?”

  Her smile died. “My father was killed. Murdered. Along with my mother and siblings.”

  “My apologies,” Carac said, a sincere frown furrowing his brow.

  She swallowed and forced a smile. “It was a very long time ago.”

  “But you still carry the pain.”

  Her gaze dropped to the ground as she heard the distant screams of her sisters in her mind. “Always.” After a moment, she pulled herself from the past and looked back at Carac. “Forgive me. Sometimes, the memories pull me along whether I want to go or not.”

  “There is no need to apologize. I am well acquainted with how the past keeps a firm hold on a person.” He looked around before his head swiveled back to her. “Would you like to stretch your legs?”

  “I would.”

  He turned and waited for her to come alongside him before continuing down the stairs. Ravyn observed how Carac’s men greeted him with warmth and respect, their admiration obvious. They genuinely liked him, which spoke highly of his character.

  Once they’d made it through the men who bowed and smiled at her, Ravyn looked at Carac and said, “I just learned a great deal about you.”

  “Oh?” he asked, brows raised.

  “I have seen men who attempt to gain the respect you have with yours. It appears to come easily to you.”

  “Perhaps because I began as just a lowly squire and earned what I have now. I was exactly where they are,” he explained. “Nor do I ask them to do anything I, myself, would not do.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “Really?”

  “Aye,” he said with a nod.

  “It is just that you talk to Lord John as if you are of equal rank.”

  Carac’s silence was intriguing. Did he have a secret? Ravyn inwardly laughed. Everyone had secrets, but it appeared as if she’d somehow found Carac’s.

  “This is my first time meeting Lord John,” she said when he remained silent. “All anyone can talk about in the village is how his honor is now in question. I might have gone to Lord Bryce had he not been defeated today.”

  “It was not a fair fight.”

  Ravyn nearly tripped over her feet at his words. She had been hoping for just such an admission, but she hadn’t expected to get it so soon. “How do you mean?”

  “Never mind.” Carac halted and faced her. “Now it is my turn to apologize. I should not have spoken so candidly.”

  “Do you owe your allegiance to Randall?”

  Carac’s gaze narrowed. “Nay.”

  “Then you have done nothing wrong.”

  His brow furrowed as his head tilted slightly. “I beg to differ. My reputation is built on honor. I always do what I say I will. I have amassed my army because my men know I will treat them fairly. I am sought after by lords from many countries to fight for them because they know I will not let them down. In all my years, I have learned many secrets and have never shared a single one.”

  “I do believe you are one in a million, Sir Carac.”

  His chest expanded as he drew in a breath. “I doubt that.”

  “Why do you do this? For coin? Because you like war?”

  He looked away and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “The money is good, I will not lie. I keep a small portion and divvy the rest up among my men. They are paid well and fed regularly.” His gaze slid back to her. “War is a way of life. There will always be someone trying to gain the upper hand on someone else. Do I like battle? Nay. But I am good at it. At least that is what got me my army. Nowadays, I merely have to arrive on a battlefield and, most times, my oppone
nt surrenders before a drop of blood has been spilled.”

  “And today?” she asked. “I heard in the village that none of your men were even injured, much less killed.”

  Carac shook his head, his lips compressing. “I have no explanation for today.”

  She wanted to believe that he didn’t have a hand in it, but until she saw the witch and found out if magic were involved, she couldn’t determine anything with any certainty.

  “What will become of Lord Randall?” she asked.

  “I wish I knew. John told me that Lady Sybbyl is with him.”

  Ravyn’s attention snagged on the name. “Lady Sybbyl?”

  “Another guest at the keep.”

  “And she went alone to see Randall?”

  Carac’s lips twisted. “Your face looks as confused as I’m sure mine did when I learned the news.”

  “It is just....” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

  “Odd?” Carac supplied with a small laugh. “It certainly is.”

  Chapter 5

  Northern Isles of Scotland

  Blackglade

  * * *

  The sea was calm, the water barely rippling at the surface. The salt hung heavily in the air as the softest whisper of a breeze brushed against her skin.

  Malene drew in a deep breath as she stood at the top of her tower and gazed out at the cloudless sky that met the dark waters of the sea on the horizon.

  The pillars around her were curved inward now. She looked down at her palms and the faint blue light that radiated from each. The power within her was growing rapidly. She could feel it, though she had no control over it. At least not yet.

  She let her hands drop to her sides. As the Lady of the Varroki, she was meant to lead those who were now her people. She hadn’t asked for—nor wanted—this role. The magic had chosen her. It was a destiny she couldn’t run from.

  To think she had been living her life unknowing what awaited her. Then Armir found her.