by Brenna Lyons
“Regana, I need to know what you’re not telling me. It’s just me, now. If Sibold felt you knew something important, you do.”
“Then, he should have told me what it was,” she commented miserably.
“What exactly did Veriel say?”
“When I threatened to use the weapon, he teased me about how I could never win a fight with him. He always teased me about that, how I had to pout to win against him. He reminded me of times we got into trouble together as children. He talked about regrets. I really don’t understand what was so important, Gawen.”
“There are two possibilities. Either you really have no idea what I need to know, or you’re lying to me.” He met her eyes, and she had to steel herself not to look away. “I know you’re hiding something from me. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you avoid my eyes. There is nothing you cannot tell me.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“There is, and until you confide in me, the stone cannot help me protect you. It will not help me. Do you understand?”
Regana sighed and planted her chin on her knees. She was spent. What difference would telling Gawen really make? Then again, why would the whole story be of any importance to anyone but herself? She yawned and tried to fight her eyes open.
“Why are you lying to me?” Gawen asked quietly.
“I’ve told you everything you wanted to know. I’ve told you the truth, Gawen,” she managed sleepily.
“Go home,” he ordered gruffly. “Take my horse.”
She pushed to her feet and headed for his mount.
Gawen lifted her into the saddle gently. He took the reigns from her and patted the horse’s shoulder. “You’ll have to tell me soon, Regana,” he whispered.
Her heart started to pound, and she was suddenly wide-awake. “What do you mean?” she asked evenly, though she was terrified. Her mind shut down at the possible things he might be referring to. Regana couldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t consider all the consequences of her actions here and now with Gawen watching her.
“If Sibold is right, things are only going to get worse until you tell me. How bad will you let it get before you trust me?”
“I do trust you, Gawen,” she assured him honestly.
Gawen was probably the only one she could trust now, but Regana couldn’t expect him to protect her against the rest of the world. If the others knew that she had been going to Jörg’s bed for all that time, they would only see her laying with a beast. Nothing could be gained by that.
* * * *
Gawen uttered a number of colorful curses as he made his way back inside. The other men looked at him uneasily.
“Did she say anything?” Wil asked.
“Nothing that helped me understand. If only the stone would tell me what I’m looking for,” he commented in frustration.
“Sibold gave you no clue?” Ditrich asked.
“None. He seemed to think Regana would know what to tell me, and I’d recognize it immediately.”
“Could she be lying to you?” Ger asked.
Gawen hesitated. He knew she was, but he wasn’t about to tell the others that and risk one of them confronting her about it. This was between Regana and himself. “She could, but I don’t know why she would,” he admitted.
“What do we do?” Pauwel asked solemnly.
“Nothing. I’ll keep prodding her for information. In the meantime, we have more important things to do.”
“For instance?” Will asked.
“I need to teach you all the stone has shown me about killing beasts.”
It was after nightfall when they finally broke from training and headed to their homes. By the time Gawen reached the other side of the village, only Pauwel and Ditrich were still with him, preparing to take the paths to their own homes. Gawen had drawn his weapon before the two beasts materialized, and the other two warriors moved just after him.
Veriel threw the other beast at their feet and smiled. “I could kill this beast,” he informed them. “I choose to let you do the honors. I want him to understand what he has inflicted on others.”
The beast on the ground pushed to his feet in a series of jerky movements that seemed forced. His skin was gray, and he was obviously weakened for them and in need of feeding. He met their eyes miserably.
“Marclef,” Ditrich breathed as he reached toward the leader reflexively.
Gawen grabbed his hand and pushed it back. “No. He is not human. He has been turned.”
“Beg them, Marclef,” Veriel taunted him. “See if they will spare your life now that you are no better than the other beasts you helped create.”
“I didn’t want this,” Marclef moaned.
“Did I?” the beast elder countered. “As I recall, you gave me ample reason, but did I want this?”
“I know your secrets, Jörg. I—” He stopped speaking and started gasping for breath. His fingers clawed at his throat hopelessly as if trying to pull off fingers invisible to the eye.
“My secrets are not yours to tell,” he chided Marclef. “The death I would give you would be infinitely more painful than any death the warriors will grant you. I could happily torture you for days before I kill you. I could force you to feed, so you will know what monsters you created. I am being generous by granting you a quick death and kind executioners, Marclef. I warned you at the stone that no one would save you from me. Do not forget that promise, and do not forget your place.”
Marclef sucked in a deep breath as the elder released his hold on him. “How?” he croaked.
“I turned you. That means I retain leading strings on you. I can see all you do or think to do. I control what I permit you to do, even from a distance. My secrets are my own.”
Marclef nodded and surged forward as if he had been pushed. “Kill me,” he requested of them. “For the love of all that’s holy, kill me.”
“Why?” Pauwel asked. “Why should we do Veriel any favors?”
The elder shrugged. “You will be kind in killing him. I will not. It is Marclef you are showing mercy to. I would not balk at killing him myself, as slowly and painfully as I can.” His smile widened at the thought.
Gawen took Marclef’s heart without taking his eyes from Veriel. “There! Your puppet is destroyed and your amusement along with it. What secret did he know?” he asked.
“You’ll never know, not from one of my puppets and not from me,” he taunted.
“What do you want with Regana?”
Veriel’s eyes narrowed and his smile dimmed somewhat. “She amuses me. No human man would dare threaten to plant a blade in me. She has spirit that I find refreshing.”
“Stay away from her, Veriel,” he warned.
The beast laughed. “A threat, Gawen? Perhaps the spirit is simply a family trait.”
“I don’t care what it is. Regana doesn’t want your attention. Look elsewhere for your next meal.”
His smile disappeared. “I would never feed on Regana,” he growled.
“But you would — what? Amuse yourself with her?” he accused.
“Perhaps not, Gawen. Perhaps, it is too late for games.” Veriel dematerialized and streamed away.
Gawen sheathed his weapons and stormed toward his home with Pauwel at his heels. He vaguely registered that Ditrich had turned back to town, presumably to notify Marclef’s brothers to dispose of him properly.
“Where are you going, Pauwel?” he growled.
“What are you doing?” the younger man countered.
“Getting answers,” he snapped.
“Then I am making sure you don’t kill her,” he commented evenly.
“This isn’t a joke, Pauwel.”
“I didn’t say it was. I’m serious.”
Gawen stopped and stared at him in shock. “You think I’d hurt her?”
“I’ve never seen you so cold for a kill. I’ve never seen you this angry. Honestly, I don’t know what you’re capable of right now.”
He nodded uncert
ainly. “Come on. You may be right,” he conceded. In truth, Gawen had visions of shaking the truth from her, and that was not a sane response. He started walking again, confusion slowing his step a bit.
Pauwel matched his pace. “Why do you think he wants Regana to trust him?” he asked.
“They pursue her.”
“You think Resten wanted her when he demanded his mate?”
“I know it. Sibold told me as much.”
“Why Regana?”
“I don’t know. She’s different than other women.”
“Her coloring, you mean?”
“More than that. Veriel mentioned her spirit. Sibold talked about her being a fighter. It has something to do with that, but I don’t know what.”
“What does the stone say?”
“It doesn’t.”
Pauwel snapped a startled look at him.
“The stone doesn’t tell me anything about Regana. It won’t.”
Pauwel nodded uncertainly, but he didn’t ask whatever was on his mind.
At the house, Regana looked at them warily. “You’re late,” she commented.
“We had something to take care of,” Gawen replied evasively.
“Dinner, Pauwel?” she offered.
“No. Kethe will have something for me. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble,” she assured him. She moved to the fire and started to fill the bowl she had waiting for Gawen.
“Regana, what was Jörg’s secret?” her brother asked suddenly, trying to take her off guard.
She stilled for a moment before turning and placing the bowl on the table. “What secret? All the secrets I know are years old. I hardly think sneaking out with his father’s bow when he was nine to hunt wolves was the secret you had in mind.”
“He snuck out to hunt wolves when he was nine?” Pauwel asked in amusement. “How would you know?”
Gawen sighed. “Jörg told her everything.” His eyes narrowed as Regana darkened. “Regana?” he asked pointedly.
“I went with him,” she admitted.
Gawen felt his blood burn. “Sit,” he ordered her.
Regana raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I’m ordering you, and if you know what is good for you, you will do as I say this time. Sit. Now.”
She took her seat and sighed. “Yes, Gawen?”
“How could you possibly—” He stopped in frustration, trying to get a handle on his anger.
“Sneak out? You are quite a heavy sleeper,” Regana replied coyly.
“Risk yourself like that,” he qualified.
“I was eight. You were hunting then,” she countered.
“Not wolves,” Gawen protested.
“Children do stupid things. They don’t realize what the consequences of their actions are.” She seemed far away for a moment.
Gawen shook his head. “You changed the subject on purpose, didn’t you?”
“I was making a point, Gawen. I don’t know what use anything I know could be. Who cares what he did when he was eight or ten? You need to know about the last week. That is information I cannot provide.”
“What about the last year?”
She shook her head slowly. “You saw him as often as I did. What could I know that you don’t?” she reasoned.
Gawen watched as she rubbed her scar nervously, the thin line of some blood oath she had taken with Jörg when they were children. That oath represented just one in a whole line of things she hadn’t told him where Jörg was concerned — and still wouldn’t. Gawen had tried several times in the last week. Regana simply answered that one could not have an oath with a being that had no honor.
He grumbled dangerously. “Jörg had a secret he’d rather kill Marclef than have me know. If you know that secret, you have to tell me.”
Regana paled considerably. “He did kill Marclef,” she breathed.
“Are you all right?” Pauwel asked, no doubt trying to get Gawen to back down somewhat.
“I don’t feel well,” she admitted.
“Regana, this is getting us nowhere,” Gawen barked.
“I don’t know what secret Marclef knew,” she whispered. “I hope I never do.” Regana met his eyes miserably and headed for her bedchamber at a run.
Pauwel watched her go in confusion. “What do you think? Is she lying?” he asked quietly.
“Absolutely, but she’s lying for a reason. She’s terrified of something. I just wish I knew what.”
Chapter Five
Gawen grumbled to himself as he pulled his best tunic over his freshly bathed body. Regana had made it for him months ago for this night, and though he knew that the trim covered a few minor errors in construction, it had been lovingly made for him by her, and he would not point out the faults in craftsmanship for anything.
This was supposed to be a happy night, but all he could think of were problems. Part of it was the delay in the choosing ceremony. All the warriors were on edge, but until Thorald had been chosen and accepted as village leader, there could be no ceremony.
Gawen made sure he was included in the choice of the new leader, citing Marclef’s deception to secure a strong voice in the appointment. Thorald was the youngest man considered by far, but he was strong in his convictions and would not betray his people or their protectors.
The whole mess cost them two weeks of time that the warriors should have been allowed to actively print on their mates. They were little better than snarling beasts now.
Regana still refused to take part in the choosing. She claimed that she had no wish to marry a warrior. That, in itself, bothered him. If beasts pursued her, being wed to a warrior was the safest place for her. Of course, Gawen already protected her, and he was in no hurry to relinquish his duty to someone else, though some days she tried his patience until he felt he might go mad.
Regana still wouldn’t tell him why she changed her mind, though he knew in his heart that Veriel was to blame somehow.
She also refused to tell him whatever secret she was hiding from him. More than once in the two weeks, Gawen had stormed away to keep from doing her physical harm.
He had tried every approach conceivable, and she had steadfastly refused to be drawn into the discussion. No amount of force worked. Putting her at ease failed, though Regana seemed less at ease in general than Gawen had ever seen her. Reassurances swayed her only momentarily, but never enough to get her to confide in him. He worried about her safety — and his own sanity if she didn’t tell him soon.
Gawen strapped on his weapons belt and looped the amulet for Bavin around the hilt of one of his weapons securely. His printing had been gnawing at him so intently that he actually spoke to Bavin to reassure himself that she had not removed herself from the choosing. He had been gladdened by her surprise and her rather shy confirmation.
He had discovered soon that the move had created its own set of problems. The stolen looks Bavin had cast him ever since had him aching for her. He had argued with himself that the battle was over and his right to choose was guaranteed, but Gawen ultimately decided that he would not do Bavin the dishonor of taking her before the ceremony. He smiled at the knowledge that he could kiss her at the ceremony and take her to mate as soon as she was willing. He prayed that she would be willing soon.
His smile faltered somewhat at the sight of Regana staring into the flames. She had been so volatile and unpredictable lately that Gawen felt he was living with a stranger. At times, he expected her to argue with him, and she would stare at him sadly or stop speaking to him entirely. At times, he expected her to laugh and smile for him, and she got angry and stormed off or looked at him warily as if she expected some trap from him. Gawen sighed as he realized Regana had not smiled an honest, joyful smile since at least the night Marclef died, probably earlier than that.
“It’s time, Regana. Are you ready?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m not going.”
“Of course, you’re going. The entire village is going,” he co
untered resolutely.
“Everyone but me. I’m not participating, Gawen. There is no point in going.”
“Come to see me choose, then,” he invited.
Regana shook her head. “I’d rather not.”
Gawen sighed in frustration. “I cannot protect you, if you are nowhere near me,” he challenged.
“Your amulet protects me. Your training blades are in your chest. That’s worked in the past,” she commented ruefully.
“I can’t leave you unprotected,” he decided.
“You can’t leave Bavin waiting for you at the ceremony. Go choose her. I’ll be fine.”
Gawen looked at her in shock. “How did you know my choice?” he asked.
Regana smiled a sad, secretive smile. “I know most of the chosen. Ditrich is choosing Anabilia. Ger is choosing Ingela. Wil is choosing Evfemia. Olbrecht is torn between Ingela and Lenne, so he will choose Lenne after Ger makes his choice. Cunczel is undecided, but I believe he will choose Lela since Riberta annoys him and Giana is too quiet even for him.”
“What about Pauwel and Kethe?” he asked archly.
“None of the warriors favor Kethe that I know of. I know Cunczel thinks she’s too outspoken. She has another admirer who hopes she is not chosen tonight. I don’t know who Pauwel favors,” she admitted.
“How could you know all of this?”
“It’s not difficult when you watch closely enough. Go on, Gawen. Don’t be late to your own choosing.”
He hesitated. “Did anyone favor you?” he asked quietly.
She shrugged. “No one who is left does, so what does it matter? Obviously, those who went to the stone didn’t have anything to lose, so I suppose not.”
“What about Pauwel? You don’t know who he favors. You admitted that.”
She met his eyes again uncertainly then shook her head. “He doesn’t want me,” she decided. “He wants someone, but it’s not me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m sure. Go Gawen. You’re late.” She motioned him toward the door.
Gawen nodded in confusion and went. His mind kept turning the conversation over and over while he walked, but he only created more questions. If Gawen had watched closely enough, would he have the key to unlocking Regana’s problem?