by Brenna Lyons
When her brother smoothed her hair, he knew that the older man had found his control again.
“Gawen, we should get her in,” he half suggested, half ordered.
The master trainer looked around suspiciously, suddenly aware as Pauwel was that they could not predict the next attack. He nodded and swept Regana to him as he turned.
* * * *
Gawen grabbed Regana by her arm and swung her around to face him. He towered over her, and she shrank from him as if she expected him to strike her. On some level, that fear angered him. On another, she was not far from the truth of his state of mind.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Explain this!”
“I just — wanted to take a walk. I have my amulet,” she managed weakly.
The urge to shake her was almost overwhelming, and his hand tightened around her upper arm as he fought to control his urges. “In the night?” he replied dangerously. “You must never leave the house after nightfall. Not without me.”
Regana nodded silently and lowered her eyes in a way most uncharacteristic for her. Gawen stilled. Something was very wrong here. He smoothed her hair back from her face in concern, in their ritual of healing.
“Gawen,” Pauwel called to him. “We should get her in.”
Gawen scanned the area, nodded, and wrapped an arm around his sister protectively, leading her back to the house with Pauwel at their backs. Tremors seemed to race within Regana’s body as she walked.
“We will talk inside,” he assured her.
She shot him a look that he could only classify as fearful before casting her gaze down at the path again.
“Regana, what is wrong?”
She met his eyes and looked as if she was about to say something, and his heart nearly stopped in relief. Then Regana closed her eyes with a tortured expression and shook her head before returning to her survey of the ground before her. Gawen sighed and swept her into the main room. She didn’t fight him when he seated her in a chair by the fire, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
His arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the top of her head. Regana was making herself as small as possible in the chair and studiously avoiding him.
“Regana, what were you doing in the woods?”
“A walk,” she mumbled.
“A lie,” he countered.
She shook her head slowly.
“What did Veriel say to you?”
She shot another fearful look at him before staring into the fire. “He ordered me to leave while he handled Resten. He didn’t want me to look at him, to see what he is now.”
“Why?”
Regana shrugged.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I wanted to know why...” She faltered and shook her head.
“You were baiting a beast?” he asked incredulously.
“He’s not!” Regana met his eyes angrily, swallowed then looked away. “He can’t be, but he is,” she decided miserably.
Gawen sighed and sank into the chair across from her. “I know you and Jörg were friends, but he is not Jörg any longer,” he told her quietly. “He’s not human, Regana.”
“Neither are you,” she spat.
“I’m not damned. Cursed, but not damned. He chose,” he tried to explain.
“I don’t believe that,” she replied quietly. “He had no reason.”
“Fear of death is a powerful thing.”
“He wasn’t afraid of death.”
“You can’t know that,” Gawen reasoned with her.
“I know,” she assured him with a conviction that made him nervous.
“How, Regana?”
She shot a guarded look at him, as if something lay just beneath the surface of her. Regana rose to storm away, but Gawen caught her by the wrist and started to pull her back. She was shaking like a tree limb in a high wind now. Why would she fear him, of all people?
He looked at Pauwel out of the corner of his eye and noted that the young warrior was making himself inconspicuous in the dark corners of the room. Regana seemed to have forgotten he was there, and Gawen had no wish to lose the tenuous cracks he was seeing in her shell. He turned his attention back to her without asking the other man to leave.
“How could you know that, Regana?”
She took a deep breath. “I can’t,” she admitted, but in a tone that didn’t ease his apprehension. “I couldn’t, could I?” Something burned in her eyes, not quite a challenge but proud and somewhat defiant.
“But, you are adamant in your belief that he was not afraid of death?”
She lowered her eyes and didn’t answer.
“Regana,” he barked.
“Jörg would never,” she began miserably.
Gawen sighed. “What was there between you and Veriel?”
“Nothing,” she proclaimed in horror.
He furrowed his brow. Perhaps, the difference for her was in a complete separation of the man and the beast. Gawen wondered if he had simply asked the question in a way that repelled her somehow.
“What was between you and Jörg, then?” he asked in irritation.
Regana didn’t answer, and she refused to raise her head. Gawen felt his anger rising dangerously. He would have to leave her so as not to hurt her if he came to no conclusion soon. Gawen stood, gripping her wrist tightly so that she could not bolt from him and cupped her chin to raise her face to him. His heart took up a choppy rhythm.
She was crying. Silent, heartbreaking tears stained her cheeks. “Jörg would never choose that path,” she assured him quietly. “Not willingly. He was tricked into it somehow. I know it, and he confirms it. This was not his choice.”
“Tricked or not, it’s done. It’s over.”
Regana swallowed again and nodded. “May I go, Gawen?”
He tried to meet her eyes, but she avoided him studiously. She ran her fingers over the scar on her hand nervously.
“What was the blood oath you took?” he asked, suddenly sure that it was vital to her upset.
She didn’t meet his eyes. Regana didn’t seem to breathe for a moment. “That we would wed no one but each other,” she admitted.
“He’s holding you to that?” Gawen asked. “You were a child, and even then, you claimed he had tricked you into the oath.”
Regana shook her head, half swallowing another sob. “He freed me from it the night Sibold... He told me that he had made many promises in his life, and there were only certain ones he could honor now. I knew what he meant.” She shook as she admitted it.
Gawen searched the stone for answers, sure that he had uncovered what he needed to know, but it was still silent.
He sensed her in frustration, not sure that it would tell him anything he could use. He had never used it on anyone but the women provided for their needs, so he had no idea if it would tell him the depth of their relationship. Could it tell Gawen if she was intact? He resisted asking that question outright, sure that he would spook Regana and she would close herself off from him again.
He groaned in understanding. Her body was not on a cycle. “Sit down, Regana,” he ordered sharply.
She hesitated for just a moment then took her seat again. Regana met his eyes nervously. She didn’t tell him. Was this what she felt she couldn’t tell him?
“Tell me the truth,” Gawen demanded. “Is the child Jörg’s?”
Her eyes widened, and she paled.
“Is it?” he asked more gently. “You must tell me.”
Gawen no longer cared that Pauwel was there. The entire village would know that she carried when she started to show. There would be no hiding this. It will only become more of a problem in time—
“Yes,” she admitted in a low, sad voice. Regana ran the palms of her hands over her stomach protectively.
“Why did you do this?”
“I loved him,” she answered miserably.
“Does he know? Does anyone know?”
Regana shook her head. “When he— I wasn’t certai
n yet. After, it was too late,” she hitched out through trembling lips.
Gawen seethed at Veriel’s incompetence. He met Pauwel’s speculative look in surprise. “What are you thinking?” he demanded.
“We can protect her from this,” he decided.
“How?” Gawen stormed. “This is not something we can hide. Veriel will figure it out eventually, or the villagers.”
Regana flinched as he said the beast’s name.
“Will they? If she were wed, a baby would be the expected outcome. Is Veriel watching so closely that he would realize? And need anyone else know that Veriel was involved in any way? Her baby could be her husband’s child, if it is presented that way.”
“Wed to who?” he snapped back in irritation.
“I’ve not made my choice yet,” Pauwel reminded him.
“No,” Regana stormed. “I cannot be your duty.”
Gawen looked at him in shock. “Pauwel, I cannot allow this,” he replied weakly.
Was the young warrior really so heartbroken for his lost chosen one that he would consider this course? Still, was Pauwel so far printed that Regana could not take the place of the one he lost in time? If he were so printed, Pauwel would eventually have to renege on this course or die.
“I cannot allow it,” Gawen repeated, cursing himself for ever considering Regana’s well being before that of this honorable young man who was willing to accept her dishonor for her.
“You must. The alternative is unacceptable,” he stated calmly.
Gawen sighed. The villagers would kill Regana, if the father of her child were known, and he could not allow his sister to die for such a mistake as this, no matter how monumental a blunder it had been. “You’re right, of course,” he conceded wearily.
“No,” Regana repeated. “I will not be bound to any man for his honor and duty.”
“You want this baby, Regana? Do you want the child to live? And yourself?”
She looked away with tears in her eyes.
“Then you must accept what we must do to protect you.”
“A child of — Jörg would undoubtedly be a powerful warrior,” Pauwel noted carefully. “Born into another house and raised as part of it, the child need never know his true parentage.”
“You would raise him as if he were your own?” Gawen asked seriously. If Pauwel could not accept the child and do so, it would all be for naught.
“He would wear my seal and be my heir,” Pauwel offered honestly. “I would nurture him and train him. He would be as one of my own children. You have my word on that. If I do this, no one will ever know that he is anything but a child of mine.”
“Regana?” Gawen asked for her acceptance. If she could not go to him willingly, disaster would ensue.
She looked at Pauwel uncertainly then dropped her gaze away. “What about...”
Gawen could see the blush come up on her cheeks clearly. “He’ll be your husband, Regana,” he thundered.
“I would never take an unwilling woman, Regana,” Pauwel answered quietly. “You have my word on that, as well.”
Regana looked at him in surprise and nodded.
“Pauwel, you cannot make an agreement like that,” Gawen protested.
“As long as she presents as a married woman would, I will manage. Do you agree?” he asked her.
“I do,” she answered quietly. “I will present the pretense of a married woman.”
Pauwel nodded. “Then Thorald will join us tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Regana protested, panic touching her voice.
The young warrior smiled crookedly. “We are a young couple in love,” he countered. “What would happen if I did not claim you immediately? We must secure our union as soon as possible – for the child’s sake.”
“We’ll have to convince Thorald that this is truly Regana’s choice before he will consent to join you,” Gawen noted. “That should not be overly difficult. Convincing him to join you immediately will be more difficult.”
“He will consent. I will tell him that I am well into printing, and he must by virtue of my need and her wish, join us now. Thorald is a reasonable man.”
Chapter Six
Regana looked around Pauwel’s house, the house she would share with him, in apprehension. She jumped slightly as her husband — she tested the word — brushed past her.
He looked at her sadly. “I’ll show you where you can put your things,” he offered gently.
She nodded and followed him into the larger bedchamber.
Pauwel dropped her small bundle onto a chest. “You may use this,” he told her. “Some of my mother’s things are still in it. Use any of it you wish.”
“Thank you, Pauwel,” she replied. “You are most kind.”
“It is not kind to provide for a wife. It is expected that I would do so,” he informed her.
“I thank you anyway.”
Pauwel nodded slowly. “This is our chamber.”
“Together?” Regana asked in shock, before she could get a handle on her tongue. Of course, together. Why would they sleep apart? That was a thing for Kings, not for common lords of the stone.
He sighed. “We must present as a married couple. Kethe sleeps in the other chamber.” Pauwel paused and met her eyes. “You gave your word,” he reminded her quietly.
Regana nodded. “Yes, I did. It is fine, Pauwel,” she assured him.
He smiled tightly. “Good. Then we can do this.” He seemed strangely tense, and he avoided looking at her directly. “Kethe will be here soon,” he commented. “Why don’t you get settled in? I must go train with Gawen and the others.”
She smiled tentatively. “Watch out for Gawen’s left back slice,” she warned. “He likes to sneak it in behind a right thrust.”
Pauwel looked at her in surprise. “Yes, I know it well. I will be careful.” He moved as if to touch her cheek, then he looked at his hand and dropped it to her arm instead. “I will return to share the evening meal with you. It smells as if Kethe has a stew on. You should,” he glanced at her midsection and away again, “eat some, please.”
“I will,” she assured him.
Pauwel nodded and lowered his hand to his side. “Good,” he repeated. For a single, tense moment, he stared at her before he turned on his heel and strode away.
Regana watched him go, willing her body to unwind. She uttered several dark curses that she was sure Gawen would disapprove of, as the front door swung shut behind Pauwel, her husband.
She pressed her hands to her stomach miserably. Her wedding night was supposed to be a very different affair: a different place, a different man, and some hope of love in her future. Now, her baby and a living lie were all that were left to her.
Regana packed her things into the chest Pauwel had provided for her, pausing to run her hand over the clothing already inside. Her breath caught in her throat. The pieces may be old, but they were stunning. They were a collection of beautiful reds, blues and greens in fine fabrics, accented with rich trims and fur. An amber pendant lay on top. Regana shook her head. Such a precious family jewel should be Kethe’s. It was not for a woman like Regana, only brought here out of a sense of duty and kinship to her brother. She closed the chest and moved away.
She sat on the high bed, set on a low dais against the far wall of the room. Regana would share the bed with her husband this night, a relative stranger offering protection for herself and her child. He was offering her safety and respectability, and she was being selfish to ask for more than that, she decided.
Regana sighed and scanned her surroundings with a critical eye. The etching on the bed caught her attention, and she ran a hand over it in awe of the craftsmanship.
“Pauwel made it himself,” a voice behind her explained.
Regana snapped a startled look at Kethe and took to her feet in embarrassment.
“He made it for his wedding night. I am sure that he didn’t tell you,” she teased, while Regana felt her cheeks darken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
startle you.”
That was so like Kethe, she remembered. The woman was apologizing to an interloper in her home. Would that Regana had ever been half as proper and gentle a lady as Kethe was she would not be in this mess now.
“No. It is fine, Kethe.” Regana turned her eyes back to the etching. “It’s very good,” she noted in a more confident tone.
“He’s been working on it for over a year.”
“Oh…” Regana felt her stomach knot painfully at the thought. Pauwel put all that work and hope into his wedding bed, and now he was sharing it with her instead of his chosen — whoever so foolish a woman was. She felt sick at what he had given up for her.
“Come. I saw Pauwel on his way to train. He ordered me to see that you eat. I notice that he was right and you have not done so of your own accord.”
“I’m not very hungry just now, Kethe. Thank you anyway,” she managed. In truth, Regana felt as if she would bring back anything she attempted at that point.
“It was an order.” The older woman smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve found it unwise to ignore Pauwel’s orders.”
Regana looked at her apprehensively. Was that the sort of man she’d tied herself to? A man to fear?
Kethe laughed as she took the young bride’s arm. “A joke, Regana,” she assured her. “Surely, you know better than anyone how gentle Pauwel is.”
* * * *
Ditrich hit the floor hard, and Gawen winced at the bruises it would leave.
“Hold,” he called. “Pauwel, sheathe and attend!”
The young man sheathed his weapons and turned to follow Gawen out into the clear day outside. Pauwel was one of the few warriors skilled enough to fight dual style. Only Gawen himself and Veriel had joined him in following Sibold’s path in that regard. The other warriors all fought standard. The training for dual was much more vigorous and the handling of two blades required much more control, a step that never seemed to apply to Veriel. His blades seemed literal extensions of his hands, much like they truly were now.
