by K. C. May
“A pleasure,” she said.
He gestured for his two guards to come forward. “That’s Dona and Nasharla.”
“Whoa, real Viragon Sisters,” Jaesh said.
“What do you know about the Sisterhood?” Daia asked.
“My papa says their battlers can cut your head off as cleanly as any man could.”
She smiled. “Your papa speaks truly.”
“My name’s Gavin too,” GJ told her, “but everyone calls me GJ. That stands for Gavin Junior.” He stood on Golam’s back, balancing with Gavin’s hands on his waist. He stepped around Gavin and wrapped himself around Gavin from behind.
Gavin held onto the boy’s hands clasped at his throat. “Ready? Hold tight now.” He dismounted with GJ clinging to his back, letting out a long, exaggerated groan. “You’re getting too big and I’m getting too old for that.” GJ released his hold and slid to the ground.
Daia dismounted as well and began to loosen her saddle and remove her armor. “Another nephew?” She lifted her chin toward a boy standing against the house. He looked about Jaesh’s age with short blond hair but stood a few inches shorter. He wore a shirt sized for a man and a curious expression on his face.
“Who might you be?” Gavin asked as he removed his cuirass.
“Trevick, my lord.”
“This is my Uncle Gavin,” Jaesh said. “And that’s Daia Saberheart. She’s a Viragon Sister. GJ, run tell Papa that Uncle Gavin’s here.”
GJ took off as instructed, with no evidence of a limp in his gait. Gavin wondered how Rogan was handling the gossip and speculation. In a community this small, word about GJ’s injury would have spread quickly and word about his miraculous recovery even more so, and more widely.
“Do you live nearby, Trevick?” Daia asked.
The boy nodded and pointed east. “A couple of plots over.”
Rogan stepped out the front door as he pulled on a shirt. “Little Brother! Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon. Glad you could come. We got a pig roasting. Are you hungry?”
“Always,” Gavin said. He embraced his brother tightly and shared a few good-natured slams on the back, each one trying to hit harder than the other. Then he introduced his brother to Daia.
She leaned forward to shake his hand. “My pleasure. The family resemblance is remarkable. You two could almost be twins.”
“’Cept Gavin looks like he been trampled by a herd o’beyonders. Nice to meet you. We got a gathering going on in the back. Come on around.”
“Gavin,” Liera said gaily, walking out. “You’re home!” She reached to hug him, and he swept her into his arms and twirled her around, then planted a kiss on her cheek as he set her back on her feet. “Look at you! You’re too lean, and you need a haircut. It’s a good thing we’re roasting today. I can fatten you up.”
“I doubt you have enough food for that.” When he introduced her to Daia, he caught a glimpse of disappointment in Liera’s eye, or perhaps surprise. Whatever it was disappeared quickly, and she welcomed Daia into her home as though they’d been friends for years.
Then a woman stepped out, a beauty who took Gavin’s very breath away.
Chapter 14
When Feanna stepped outside, her attention was drawn immediately to a taller, younger, more muscular version of Rogan. His face was marred by two long scars, but she was captivated by his beautiful dark-brown eyes hooded by a prominent brow. This must be Gavin, about whom Liera talked incessantly. When their eyes met, time seemed to slow. The sound of her heartbeat filled her ears. Even across the dozen feet that separated them, she felt his presence loom large, dominating not only her attention but that of everyone nearby. A peculiar strength emanated from him, the kind that drew people in. The kind that engendered trust and confidence, that prompted a nod from passersby, that encouraged stray dogs to fall into step beside him. He was big, this man — not only in size, but in some intangible, indescribable sense that he was more, much more than he seemed.
Liera’s voice seeped into her consciousness. “Feanna, meet Daia Saberheart.”
Feanna tore her eyes away from Rogan’s brother and met the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Daia was almost as tall as Henrik had been, and manly muscles bulged from her sleeveless tunic, though her fine features would have made her a grand subject for a statue. Her face might have been comely once with such a perfect white smile, but she was too lean and her neck too thick and muscular, making her look alien. Was this Gavin’s lover? Daia stepped forward, offering a hand.
Feanna shook it and immediately gasped. Like a flock of geese that had burst into a cacophony of honking, the feelings of everyone bombarded her at once. Never before had anything like this happened. She sensed Daia’s curiosity, Liera’s joy dampened by mild disappointment, Rogan’s relief edged with worry, Jaesh’s excitement, Trevick’s diffidence, GJ’s adoration, and from Gavin a longing so intense as to nearly break her heart. Something was intensifying her skill, like pouring water down her throat with a drenching horn, and she hadn’t even shifted. Anxiety started to well in her, building toward panic and a strong urge to flee. It had to stop. Stop. Stop! Shocked by the suddenness and intensity of the emotions, Feanna jerked her hand out of Daia’s. At once the feelings receded like a tide going out.
Daia cocked her head with a curious smile. “Forgive me. I had no idea. Pleased to meet you, Miss Feanna.” She had a knowing look in her eyes and a gentle smile that was teasing yet comforting.
“Nice meeting you too,” she managed to say before the words jumbled in her throat. What had just happened? Had Daia been somehow responsible for the sudden burst of empathy? Feanna sensed Gavin watching her, and she was right. Settled upon her, his brown eyes were like Rogan’s, but their intensity made them seem harder.
Oblivious to what had happened, Liera said, “And this...” She put an arm around Gavin’s waist. “This is Rogan’s brother, Gavin.” She gave him a squeeze. “I intended to introduce you to Feanna last time you were here, remember?”
Feanna straightened her posture, trying to draw herself up to be more like the woman he’d arrived with. If he preferred his women strong enough to wield a sword, she didn’t stand a chance, but she wanted him to know she was no field mouse. “Well met, Gavin,” she said boldly, trying not to seem overly demure. Her heart raced. Although she wasn’t close enough to touch him, she felt his longing still, as well as something else, though she wasn’t sure how to describe it other than... intent.
“So you’re Feanna,” Gavin said in a rich, deep voice. “I’m glad to meet you. Sorry I didn’t get to last time I was here. I see now it was a terrible mistake on my part.” The timbre of his voice was like velvet to her ear, a voice that would have made any bard choke on his envy. She could listen to him all day. And all night.
Feanna felt a nervous giggle well within her, but she couldn’t stop it. She realized she’d been smiling, and her lips were sticking to her gums. She licked her lips and tried to conceal her crooked teeth behind them. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, her heart stuttered and heat spread across her face. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“Don’t believe a word of it. I’m not a bad buck, really.” Gavin gifted her with a warm, gap-toothed smile that was both rugged and endearing.
When he came forward and offered his hand, she hesitated to take it. Don’t shift, she reminded herself. She slipped her hand into his, and immediately lost herself in his touch. His eyes dominated her vision. The warmth of his hand seeped into her blood and spread up her arm. Even without shifting, she knew that her attraction to him was reciprocated, but it wasn’t only physical attraction. It was something more, like two halves finally becoming whole. Now she understood what people meant by love at first sight. She could fall in love with this man. Perhaps she already had.
Everyone was silent, watching the two of them watching each other. As the moments ticked by, Feanna found herself more and more flustered, unsure what to do. She’d never met a m
an so captivating. All at once, everyone uttered a “Well” or “So,” and Feanna gently and hesitantly withdrew her hand.
Jaesh handed a huge sword to Rogan. “Look at Uncle Gavin’s new sword, Papa.”
Rogan took the sword and turned it this way and that, whistling. Its hilt was fashioned with snakes — not the sort of design Feanna cared much for, but she could see why a warrant knight, or any battler, would like it. What got her attention though were the gems embedded in it. She’d never realized that Gavin was wealthy. She supposed if a warrant knight had no home, he could save most of the money he earned, but he’d have to stash it in a bank or risk being robbed. Buying gems to decorate his sword would be a safe alternative.
“These gems,” Rogan said. He cleared his throat. “They the ones you were tellin’ me about?”
Gavin nodded.
“Got another to add to it, then?” Rogan asked. His voice was taut, and his hands trembled as though the sword were very heavy, though the twelve-year-old Jaesh hadn’t struggled overmuch to hold it.
Gavin scrubbed a finger under his nose. “Yeh.”
Rogan’s eyes widened, and his face reddened. “You ain’t going to leave it be, are you? You’re going to—”
“Boys,” Gavin said sharply, cutting Rogan off, “would you show Dona and Nasharla to the stable and help get the horses unsaddled?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Jaesh said. “GJ, go tell Asiawyth to come help. This way, Lady Sisters.” He took the reins and led the horses toward the stable with Trevick following.
“Let’s go around back,” Liera said. “We’ve got a pig on the spit, eggplants and potatoes from Feanna’s field and bread baking.”
“Little Brother,” Rogan said. He looked like his blood was about to boil over and spill out his ears. “Hang back a bit. I want to talk to you.”
Liera took the arms of Feanna on one side and Daia on the other. “I hope you brought your appetite.”
“Oh, I think I could manage a bite or two,” Daia said.
Feanna glanced back over her shoulder, and caught Gavin watching her. When she looked at Daia, fearful of seeing jealous rage on the battler’s face, she was rewarded instead with a smile.
“So, Daia.” Liera clutched Feanna’s arm more tightly as they walked. “You and Gavin—”
“Are friends,” Daia said quickly, “and nothing more.” She met Feanna’s eyes over the top of Liera’s head. “I’m like a hired sword, except that he doesn’t actually pay me.”
“How interesting,” Liera said. She patted Feanna’s arm and winked at her. Liera’s earlier disappointment evaporated, replaced by eagerness and excitement.
“How long will you two be staying?” Feanna asked.
“I don’t know yet. I think he’d only planned to stay the night, but an unexpected development might delay us.” Daia was smiling broadly now and looking directly at Feanna, as was Liera. “It seems he has his eye firmly set on you.”
Heat washed across Feanna’s face and neck. “Oh, do you think so? I wouldn’t have thought a warrant knight would be much interested in a woman who was burdened with a house and children.”
“Gavin’s not quite what he seems at first glance,” Daia said.
When they arrived at the backyard where the pig was roasting, Liera went back to work basting the meat while it cooked, turning it with a crank on the handle. The girls, interrupted from their hopping game, stood aghast at the sight of the brawny swordswoman. While Tansa and Jilly gaped, Iriel came forward with a dreamlike expression. “Are you a Viragon Sister?” she asked.
“This is my daughter Iriel,” Feanna said. “Iriel, this is Miss Daia.”
“How d’you do?” Iriel bobbed a clumsy curtsy. “So are you?”
“I was,” Daia said, smiling.
Feanna went to the fire pit to check the potatoes.
“How come you’re not anymore?”
“Iriel, that’s none of your business,” Feanna said. “I’m sorry, Miss Daia. She’s obsessed with becoming a Viragon Sister.”
Daia put a hand on Iriel’s shoulder. “I felt the same way when I was your age. I couldn’t hear enough stories about battlers and their adventures.”
“Can I touch your sword?”
“You may but only on the hilt. The blade is very sharp.”
Since Daia seemed to have matters in hand, Feanna went back to work. She used her sleeve to wipe the sweat and wet hair from her forehead then sat to peel the eggplants. Her mind returned to Rogan’s brother, wondering why he’d come. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, but she’d heard rumors about warrant knights and their lifestyles and had no interest in becoming anyone’s bedfellow. She’d always wanted a child of her own, but a ’ranter’s bastard was not what she had in mind.
Jilly came to sit beside her and watched Daia silently from a distance. Tansa ambled over to listen to Daia tell Iriel about joining the Sisterhood.
“How old must I be to join?” Iriel asked.
“Twelve at least.”
“I’m almost nine. But I’m tall for my age, and strong too.” Iriel flexed her biceps. “They could let me in early. I could keep up.”
“No doubt,” Daia said, “but the Sisterhood has many rules which mustn’t be broken. If you get caught breaking rules, you can get kicked out. It wouldn’t bode well to break a rule to get in, would it?”
A deflated Iriel sat hard on the ground. “I guess not.”
“You’ll be twelve before you know it. Meanwhile, do your best to help your mother. Chores help you develop discipline and strength, traits of a good battler.”
Feanna gave Daia a thankful smile, which she acknowledged with a wink. Feanna got the impression she and Daia would get along just fine.
Chapter 15
Gavin watched Feanna walk away, appreciating the shine of her honey-colored hair in the sunlight, the narrowness of her waistline, and the sway of her hips beneath her skirt. If he’d known this was the woman Liera had wanted to introduce him to a few weeks ago, he’d have stayed another day, maybe two. Damn she gave him the itch. Judging from her haze, she was equally attracted to him. It probably wasn’t fair to see into her like that, but he’d only wanted a peek.
Something else about her haze had piqued his interest. It glowed brilliant golden yellow with a second haze of pure white around it, like a belt. At one point, when she shook hands with Daia, he saw the orange tendril of Daia’s haze, the one that he surmised was the source of her mystical conduit power, infusing Feanna’s haze with energy. The belt part had expanded wide enough to wrap around all of them then lit up in a storm of colors. He had no idea what it meant, but it was both intriguing and beautiful.
“I’m glad you came by, Little Brother,” Rogan said. They started to walk toward the barn. “I been worried about you.”
Gavin snorted. “About me? Why?”
“You know why. A messenger brought a box this mornin’. Said it was for you. I was tempted to open it, but it felt cold, like whatever was in it had some magical influence. I thought better of it.”
When Gavin followed Rogan into the barn, Dona, Nasharla and the boys ceased their conversation while they tended the horses. Golam snorted, tossing his head a couple of times and tamping his feet. The warhorse had never been fond of stabling, preferring to sleep under the open sky, no matter the weather. But he also tended to wander around, nibbling everything in sight and getting his foolish self lost. “Calm yourself, Golam. We ain’t going anywhere.”
Rogan fetched a box from a high shelf in the tack room and set it on the workbench. About a foot square, it had some weight to it but not a lot. Rogan was right: something cold was in it. A block of ice would have melted long ago. Some magic spell must have been working on the box from the inside.
“Are you going to open the box now, Uncle Gavin?” Jaesh asked, joining them. GJ ducked under Jaesh’s arm and came into the room. Asiawyth and Trevick watched from the doorway.
“I guess I am. Who’d it come from?”
A Viragon Sister might have had reason to send him items, especially something they’d found at Ravenkind’s manor, but it should have gone to the Elegance Inn in Tern. How would the Viragon Sisterhood know where his brother lived? Gavin looked at GJ. “Go fetch Daia, will you?”
“I will,” Asiawyth volunteered. He ran from the stable.
“You boys better go too,” Gavin said to Jaesh. “No telling what might be in here.” And he had the uncomfortable feeling that something awful was in there.
“Aww, I want to see—”
“Do as your uncle told you,” Rogan said.
Jaesh slammed the heel of his hand into the wall.
“Jaesh!” Rogan hollered. “You need a belt against your backside?”
“Come on,” Jaesh said. He took GJ by the arm and sulked off toward the house. Trevick followed obediently behind.
Rogan handed Gavin a pry bar, handle first, which Gavin used to ease the top of the box off, its nails squeaking in protest. With every squeak, his stomach knotted a bit more. The top came away, and a round object sat inside, wrapped in a bundle of cloth and steadied in the corners with extra rags. He hoped to hell this wasn’t what he thought it was.
Gavin reached inside and took hold of the bundle, feeling the cold through the cloth. Rogan flipped the box over, and Gavin set the bundle on the overturned box, then began to pull away the cloth.
His stomach lurched the moment he saw dark hair. Ravenkind. That filthy, evil son of a thrice-damned whore. “Seven hells!” He shut his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. If the wizard had been there now, Gavin would have ripped the bastard’s cold heart out with his bare hands. He considered wrapping it back up before Rogan could see, but Gavin had to know who had suffered for his actions.
“What’s wrong?” Rogan said. “What is it?”
With a shaking hand, Gavin pulled the cloth away to reveal a severed head.
