by Mina Carter
As a worker, Rika was invaluable. Rather than dragging her feet as though every little task was beneath her, she worked hard. So much so, Analise didn’t know what she’d do without her.
“My lady?” Rika’s voice was hesitant, the touch of her hand on Analise’s shoulder even more so. “Are you okay?”
No words would come to her tongue, her throat thick with emotion, so Analise simply turned.
“Oh, my lady…” Rika murmured, hand covering her mouth.
Analise’s lips quirked slightly. “That bad, huh?”
The older woman’s eyes flashed with anger. Not much taller than Analise herself, she had a presence and bearing that marked her out from the rest of the servants. “Okay, you get yourself out there and put some snow on that to bring the swelling down. I’ll deal with the chores while you rest. If anyone asks, you’re darning the linen, okay?”
Analise nodded, the kindness and unexpected presence of an ally bringing tears to her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Rika ordered, pushing the door open. “Get yourself out there and let me deal with the rest.”
After bundling Analise up in the cape, Rika pulled the hood up and, quite surprisingly, dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“Don’t worry, my lady,” she said softly at Analise’s surprised look. “Things will get better. I’m sure of it. Your mother…snow rest her soul…she’s up there looking out for you, of that I am sure.”
She didn’t get chance to reply. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Rika shoved her out of the door and shut it behind her quickly. Hearing a deep voice on the other side, Analise breathed a sigh of relief. It was not her father come looking for her, and Rika was more than capable of dealing with anyone else.
Chapter 3
The magical feeling of being free from everything for a few precious minutes stole over her as she made her way into the garden. Not much grew in the circle, but here at least there were scrubby hedges and a trellis in what once had been an attempt at a maze. Apparently, it had been her mother’s favorite place as well, a fact she hadn’t gleaned from her father, but from reading her mother’s journals.
Written in her mother’s beautiful cursive, they told the tale of a very different life than the one Analise lived. One where Magnus was the handsome hero who’d wooed a wife who was very much in love with him. One where the child she carried had been wanted and longed for. Astra had written notes, and even though they’d been addressed to the boy she’d thought she carried instead of the girl Analise had turned out to be, she still treasured them. Proof that someone had once loved her, even though they’d never met.
Those words, and this place, were the only links she had left to her mother, so she guarded them jealously and came here when she needed comfort.
The snow crunched beneath her feet. Her thin indoor shoes weren’t really suitable for being out here, but she didn’t care. To go back inside and fetch her heavy boots increased the risk of being seen and the last thing she wanted was to face her father again with the mood he was in. So she worked her way farther into the garden, right to the bench near the back wall. It was next to a small fountain, the water frozen over months ago in a graceful arc.
Sitting down, she breathed a soft sigh. Covered with snow, everything sparkled in the sun like the winter wonderland her mother had often described, and it was moments like these she treasured most. Like they were a little link to the past.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine what a different life would be like…
“Hello, my lady.”
At the sound of the deep voice, her eyes snapped open. Scar stood by the wall, half hidden in the shadows, his dark gaze focused solely on her.
“What are you doing here?”
Her voice rang with surprise. She’d thought he and his men had left after the conversation with her father. Rising to her feet, she flicked a glance sideways. The door to the garden was all the way over the other side of the garden, hidden by the maze.
“You’ll never make it,” he said in a low voice, pushing off from the wall to approach. “You could try screaming, but believe me, I can get to you before you do.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, fear filtering through her veins. At least she thought it was fear… it had to be. He was her father’s enemy, a dangerous rogue who hated pure-bloods like her. So why wasn’t she trying to run? Her breath caught in her throat as she backed up. For each step she took, he took one forward, until her back hit the wall by the bench.
She tried to side-step, but he was there, eyes warm with amusement. “Running already, my lady? We’ve hardly had a chance to get to know one another.”
The amusement faded as his gaze dropped to her lips. His eyes narrowed and, like lighting, his hand shot out and gripped her chin. Unlike her father’s hold the day before, his touch was gentle. The merest whisper of strength as he tilted her head up to study her split lip and the bruises she knew were forming on her delicate skin. She didn’t fight. There was no point. He was bigger, stronger and faster than she was, especially out here in the snow.
“I bruise easily,” she said hastily, as his eyes blazed with anger. “It looks worse than it is.”
“I don’t care if you do or not,” he bit out, a tiny muscle in the side of his jaw working. “He shouldn’t have touched you. You’re mine.”
She shivered at his words, but ignored the feeling and shook her head. “No, I’m not. He said no, remember?”
“And you think that’s going to stop me taking what I want?” A smile crept over his lips, pulling at the scar across his face.
The cruel injury didn’t disgust her. Instead, it made his appearance unique, highlighting the darkness of his eyes and the full curve of his lips. Overlong black hair fell forward onto his face just enough that she wanted to reach up and brush it away. She was sure she’d never seen him before, but a sense of familiarity lingered.
Her hands curled over his upper arms. She couldn’t wrap them around the thick muscles there, nor did she have any chance of stopping him physically. But, despite his fearsome reputation, she didn’t think he would force her. Instead, she felt almost safe in his arms.
“And if I said no?”
He paused for a moment, watching her. Then, slowly, his thumb stroked over her lower lip in a gentle caress she hadn’t expected from such a hard man. “I don’t force women, but make no mistake, my lady, I’ll have you. And when I do, you’ll beg me to take you.”
The words whispered in a whiskey-rough voice made her skin tingle and her body ache. An ache that intensified as he moved closer, his big body warm as his massive shoulders blocked out her view of the garden beyond. She didn’t want to look at the garden, all her attention on him as she tilted her head to meet his eyes. Nerves assaulted her, but she was her mother’s daughter…she wouldn’t show him her fear.
“Really now? And how do you know that?”
The smile turned feral and wicked as he leaned down, his next words whispered against her lips. “Because of this.”
The world paused as his lips covered hers. Warm and firm, they moved over hers as she stood, stiff and unyielding. If he thought he was making a point with this, she’d prove him wrong. There was nothing between them, nothing…
He pulled her closer, away from the snow-covered wall behind her and into the warm, protective lea of his bigger body. The snow swirled around them in a flurry. His body heat hit her, penetrating the thin cloak and gown she wore, and she couldn’t help her small move closer. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he slid a big hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head up. He reached the corner of her lips, and she winced a little, the cut there smarting.
“Shhh, shhh,” he murmured, breaking the kiss long enough to soothe her.
Despite herself, she couldn’t contain the tiny murmur of disappointment at the loss of his lips against hers. He smiled, the curve more felt than seen, and before she could say anything, he
kissed her again.
It was a long, drugging kiss. Soft at first, easing her into the feel of his mouth on hers, but then it got firmer. His tongue swept out to test the seam of her closed lips. The warm, wet brush made her gasp, and he took advantage, surging past her lips to sweep his tongue into her mouth. Somehow one of her hands found its way beneath his jerkin, laying against his heated skin over his heart. He groaned at the touch and deepened the kiss, the softness burning away to leave an inferno between them.
Her knees buckled, all the strength in her legs sapped by their embrace, but he caught her with one strong arm around her waist. Held her easily against him. She wasn’t a tall woman, but she felt everything where they were pressed together from breast to thigh. The hard muscles in his broad chest, the rippling abs, strong thighs. And between them all, a hard pressure against her soft stomach… Her eyes widened and she tore her lips from his. “No, we can’t.”
“We can. We are.”
He tried to reclaim her lips, but she turned her head. Instead of stepping away from him, which would have been the obvious choice, she moved closer, like an animal seeking shelter. It was a desperate tactic and would only work if she’d read him right. Long seconds passed and in each of them, she expected him to push her back against the wall and take what he wanted. Why else would he have broken in here? To her shame, she realized she couldn’t stop him. Even worse, that something deep inside her didn’t want to…
He sighed, smoothing a hand down her back before he stepped away. There was an odd look in his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Don’t think for a moment we’re done with this. You’re mine, Analise, and I’ll bring down hell if I have to.”
“Man the defenses!”
The next day, Analise was yanked out of sleep by the sound of the alarm and shouts outside her chamber. Blinking, she looked toward the window, only to see the dim light of early morning. What time was it? And why were people shouting? She clambered out of the warmth of the bed and shivered as her bare foot touched the cold floor. Gathering a thick wrap around her, she poked her head out of her door to find armed warriors storming through the corridors. She stepped back quickly to avoid getting squashed, calling out to the passing warriors.
“What’s going on?”
One of the younger ones slowed. “The hold’s on alert, my lady. Looks like there’s an army outside.”
“What? What army?” she asked, but the warrior was already gone, following his comrades at a run. “Shit.”
Ducking back into her room, she dressed quickly. An army outside the walls was never a good thing, but who would be stupid enough to take on her father? If they attacked the Asmundr, they took on the might of the combined clans as well. All of them. It would be a death sentence. They’d be beaten on the battlefield and then every last one of them would be tracked down and executed. Even, she shuddered, the women and children. Her father had no mercy for those who went against him.
Slipping out of her room, she dodged between the groups of running warriors heading off to different parts of the hold and made her way through the corridors. The main hall was chaos. Complete and utter chaos. A mass of her father’s most senior warriors, all shouting, were gathered around a large table in the center of the room, with her father in front of it. His booming voice issued order after order, plans spread out in front of him. War plans. For a campaign that looked well underway from what little she’d gleaned from watching him over the years. Warriors ran in and out, dispatched to different places or bringing reports in.
Spotting Rika to one side, Analise joined her, asking in a low voice, “What’s going on?”
For an answer, the older woman pulled her to one of the windows. It showed a view of the lower courtyard far below, and through the gatehouse towers, the valley beyond. Rather than the pristine snow she’d expected to see, there was row upon row of warriors, their sheer numbers making Analise catch her breath. They’d been right—it was an army. She knew immediately who they were. The Einar. Scar’s men.
“They’ve been massing since well before dawn. Every hour more arrive. No one realized how many there were.” Rika’s voice held the carefully controlled note of someone on the verge of panic. “There’s so many of them…it’ll be a bloodbath.”
Analise patted the older woman’s arm reassuringly. “No matter how great their numbers, we have good defenses and we’re well stocked for the winter. With the recent snowfall, we have plenty of water. We can out wait a siege, no problem.”
“They’re not going to, though.” Rika turned wide, dark eyes on Analise. “Your father is sending troops out to meet them.”
“What? That’s bloody suicide.” Analise’s eyes widened, a chill rolling down her spine as she looked out at the waiting troops.
Scar’s men ranked row upon row, their weapons and armor gleaming in the sunlight. Since the wars that had ravaged the planet years ago, the old weapons, guns and the like were all gone, and warfare had reverted to the middle ages. Bloody and brutal. Unfortunately, so had medicine. She winced, already anticipating the horrors of the wounded. Even with ursanthrope healing abilities, there would be fatalities, maiming, and crippled warriors at the end of this.
“What do they want? Why do this?” she whispered in horror, her hand against the glass. She turned to look at the older woman, who stood silently next to her. Strangely, she wasn’t watching the forming army out on the plains. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Analise and there was a strange look in her eyes.
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” She shook her head, a lock of white hair falling from her plait. “They’re here for you. Scar wants you, and he doesn’t care how many of your father’s men he has to go through to get you.”
Her father turned at that moment, perhaps alerted to her presence by the sound of feminine voices amongst the cacophony.
“You!” He bellowed, wading through the masses as warriors scrambled to get out of the way. Those who weren’t swift enough were roughly backhanded, knocked out of the way casually by the alpha bear. “This is all your fault.”
Reaching the two women, he grabbed Analise by the upper arm and all but threw her against the window. “You see them out there? Your lover,” he sneered the word. “Come to claim your hand. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let a half-breed claim my daughter, even a useless waste of space like you.”
With those words, any hope he’d had a hint of concern for her died a death in the middle of her chest. All he was worried about was his reputation. How it made him look. There was no concern at all for her, and she had no doubt that if an alliance with Scar had been advantageous to him, her father would have handed her over without a second thought.
A shiver tickled down her spine, a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought. What would it be like to belong to a man like Scar? He’d made no pretense of the fact he wanted her. And it hadn’t just been for the mark on her shoulder—lots of men wanted her for that, but they spoke of bedding her just to get her with cubs. They didn’t look at her the way he did, like he wanted to devour her on the spot…then there were the kisses in the garden.
Unbidden, her hand started to creep up to her lips, remembering how his had felt against them, but she stopped herself before her father could see the movement. The mood he was in, he was just as likely to beat her to death to stop Scar getting his way.
This time, she shivered properly. Between the devil and the deep blue sea. She’d never understood the phrase before, but now she did. It meant she was screwed whichever way this went.
“Oh for fuck sake, stop daydreaming, girl. Make yourself useful and prepare the women for battle. We’re going to need food for the warriors and medics on standby. Chop chop; we attack at sunrise.”
“Yes, Father.” Ducking her head in compliance, she grabbed Rika’s hand and beat a hasty retreat from the hall.
“Okay, you head on down and warn Cook what’s going on,” she ordered Rika, her mind already running at a mile a minute, working out the best way
to accomplish what needed doing. “I’ll sort supplies medical supplies and round up the other women.”
Rika didn’t argue. She simply nodded and spun to head to the kitchen. Analise turned to go the other way. First, she needed to head to her room and change her dress for something older and harder wearing. Something that wouldn’t matter if she got stains on it, like blood. Although her father expected to crush the Einar rebellion within a day, she knew that victory wouldn’t be attained without casualties. On both sides. Casualties she knew she would have to treat.
At least, she mused as she reached the corridor her room was in, all the warriors were already up and at their posts. Which meant she wouldn’t have to root the female servants out of their lovers’ beds, a task she always dreaded. Most delighted in trying to embarrass her, with either ribald comments or nudity.
After opening her door, she stepped inside the room and froze. There, on her pillow, was a single red rose. A single red rose that hadn’t been there before.
Warily, she inched forward, senses alert for any danger, for any hint someone was still in the room with her. However, it was a small room and the only possible hiding place was by the wardrobe. Heart in her throat, she crept forward, inch by inch, until…she darted forward the last half foot, peeking into the gap by the wardrobe.
It was empty. She let out a shaky laugh, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed Scar hadn’t been lying in wait for her. Turning around, she looked at the rose on her pillow. The heady scent wrapped around her like a siren’s call. It was from him…it had to be.
But was it a gift, or was leaving it on her pillow a warning it didn’t matter how many men her father had, Scar could still get to her if he wanted?
Chapter 4
Rika turned out to be correct. It was a blood bath.
The next three days and nights turned into a nightmare of pain and suffering the likes of which Analise had never known before. All the women in the hold were called upon to treat the wounded, and they came through the doors of the main hall in never ending waves, which meant one day rolled into the next. The hideous injuries were not helped by the cold or the fact that the warriors were bear-shifters who tried to heal themselves by shifting given the slightest opportunity. So far, three women had been injured by flailing limbs, and they’d had to re-break bones on most of the warriors afterward to ensure correct healing.
