He paused before her, and his eyes were William’s for a moment, as was his voice.
“Brienne, my love,” he said. He reached through the flames that surrounded her and stroked her cheek. She watched the skin on his blue hands begin to burn and still he did not pull away.
“Save Aislinn. She cannot survive the fire,” she urged him.
He stepped back, the warblood once more, and faced Hugh.
“’Tis not just the one, Warblood,” Hugh called out to him, and he pointed to the other side of the circle. Marcus’s priests were surrounded by the flames. “I will kill all of them now or feed them to my goddess later,” he threatened, “unless you open the gateway.”
Hugh set one of the priests aflame to demonstrate his power and his determination. But William understood that Hugh would kill every last one of them if the warblood became his pawn. He watched every second of the priest’s torment, honoring his sacrifice as others would honor his, for he could not allow the gateway to be open.
He pulled the power into his blood, urging it on, forcing his body to push to a new size and strength. Then he turned his hands into flat hammers. With one last look at Brienne, the woman he loved, the fireblood he would never claim, he ran, aiming at the stone next to where Hugh held her. The pain of the impact of his body against the stone was immeasurable, but so was the pleasure at feeling it move.
Hugh did not realize his intent until he did it a second time . . . and a third. The warblood’s bones crushed and healed, crushed and healed with each impact. If he could bring down this stone and destroy the altar stone behind it, the integrity of the circle would break and no spell could be cast there.
The stone began to wobble. The warblood smiled and prepared to hit it for the last time.
And Hugh screamed and attacked him.
The fire swarmed him, burning his skin, burning his lungs, and driving him away. All it would take was one more blow to knock it over, but the heat and torment of the flames directed at him forced him to stop just a few paces from the stone. He laughed then, for Hugh had forgotten he needed the warblood for the spell and was destroying him on his own. Either way, it would end here.
And Brienne would survive.
I love you, Brienne.
If he died saving her and the rest of his world, so be it. The warblood closed his eyes.
She was there before him, a shield against the flames her father aimed at him. He felt Brienne but saw the fireblood around him.
I love you, William, she whispered in his thoughts and in his heart.
Hugh screamed again, and it sounded like a roar around and in him. Brienne did not relent, surrounding him so that nothing touched him.
Go, get Aislinn. Save them. Trust me.
And he did.
As she spread herself into a wall of flames, wider and longer over him, a path opened for him into the circle. He ran to get the priest but found her waiting for him. The warblood looked back and saw that the flames battled each other now, Brienne trying to keep her father out of the circle while he was in there.
“Hold up the torch,” Aislinn said to the soldier who had carried her there. He was one of Hugh’s men and yet he followed her orders without hesitation. The other lay dead on the ground. “Your hand, Warblood!”
He rushed to the altar stone and held his hand over it. Aislinn cut across his wrist, and his blood, blue now and glowing, flowed onto its surface. Then she held her breath, grabbed his hand, and did the same to her wrist. He watched as her human blood, rich and red, mixed with his.
“Call her now, William! Now!”
BRIENNE! He shouted it with his voice and his thoughts and his heart and his soul.
In horror, he watched the firefight outside the circle between Brienne and her father end in a flash—one second she held him back and in the next she disappeared. He heard Hugh’s victorious laugh ring out. If Hugh entered the circle now and completed the other ritual with his blood, the world would end in fire and destruction.
In the next instant, before he could breathe or move or think, Brienne materialized from the torch that Hugh’s man held. Still fire, she held out part of her and it became her hand and arm. Aislinn grabbed her, joined the three, and cut her wrist over the pool of their blood, adding the molten-gold colored blood to theirs.
The marks of their bloodlines lit up on their skin, and suddenly the stones vibrated, sending out a sound unlike any he’d ever heard before. Chiming bells or singing stones? A barrier formed between the stones, keeping them inside.
And Hugh was outside.
“We are not finished yet, and he still has the power to destroy those outside,” Aislinn said. “The stones must be marked and sealed.”
The warblood turned and saw a great chasm form in the center of the circle. A roar emanated from deep within it.
“The goddess will try to escape now. Find the stone carved with your symbol and”—she smeared some of the gathered blood onto her mark—“and place yours on it.”
He dipped his hands into the blood and smeared it on his arm, covering the mark in blood that boiled and swirled with the mixed colors and powers of the three of them. Brienne did the same, and they ran into the circle to the stone carrying their symbol.
The roar from the center of the circle increased, and the warblood saw talons and glowing eyes there. And fire, long bursts of fire and molten streams against whatever held it captive. The ground shook and the stones’ song grew louder and louder.
He found his stone and waited for the fireblood and priest to take their places. When they did, they raised their marks and placed them in the carvings at the same moment.
The sky above them glowed and swirled, creatures or beings appeared over them, and the stones melted and reached for that sky before bending over to touch in the middle, over the abyss. The altar stone cracked in two, and the pool of blood flowed onto the ground and dripped into the void. Screams of rage and agony erupted as the pit sealed from the edges into the center. Then it was gone, all of it, leaving them in the middle of an empty field, the stones buried once more deep in the earth.
The warblood, the fireblood, and the priest were gone, and only William, Brienne, and Aislinn remained.
But Hugh de Gifford was only defeated, not dead.
William took Brienne in his arms and kissed her hungrily, then stepped away. There would be time for them, but first he needed to deal with the threat to his men, their people.
“Come, my love,” he said to Brienne, holding out his hand to her. “There is still much to do.” Pointing to Aislinn, he ordered the man who’d witnessed it all, “Protect her.”
Then, with his mate at his side, he strode toward the fighting.
Chapter 25
Hugh the fireblood laughed when he vanquished his daughter.
Now all he must do to complete his quest was enter, destroy the altar stone, and join his blood with the warblood over the barrier to break it and free Chaela.
She would be glorious! Freed after centuries, eons, she would rise above them and destroy all who opposed her, who opposed them. They would rule the world together. Gathering his form, he turned to enter the circle.
And could not!
The stones changed and glowed and kept him out. He tried as a fireblood and then in his human shape, but a force greater than he’d ever encountered, stronger than anything the goddess had ever produced, kept him out.
Gazing into the circle, he watched as his daughter materialized from the flame of the torch, a power he did not know she possessed. Pride would not stop him from destroying her now and destroying every one of those who had helped her.
“No!” he screamed as she spilled her blood with the others. “NO!”
She could not do this. She could not stop him, stop the one who gave her the power in her blood!
He became a fire of immense siz
e and strength and tried to burn his way through whatever kept him out, but it did nothing. He pushed himself through the air, circling the stones, burning and forcing against it until a terrible noise filled the air from within it, a cry of suffering and anguish so deep that it shook the earth.
When the stones bent to join in the center, he knew he’d lost.
Hugh did not waste his time or the men he had left. He changed his plan and called out orders to Eudes and the others to gather. Creating a wall of fire, he sent it out at the attackers, forcing them away so that he could escape. Riding away from the site of his first defeat, he offered up his prayer and pledge to his goddess. He knew it was not a complete failure, for he’d taken steps to begin the chaos that the goddess would finish.
Now that he knew how the priests communicated and what knowledge they shared, he grabbed one of them as they rode past. Not seeing Brisbois, and realizing he would die at the warblood’s hand in the circle, Hugh tossed the priest to Eudes, who would now have to extract that information that his torturer would have.
With the priest, he could gain the location of the next circle, his next chance to free her and destroy their enemies. As they reached the top of the ridge, Hugh opened his senses, trying to get some idea of where they needed to go. Ripples of power echoed to him from the north. The priest Aislinn would discern the specific location from signs inside the stones, and their prisoner would share that with him.
* * *
Brienne walked at William’s side toward the mayhem. Her blood felt different now. The power coursed more strongly through her, and she could feel some abilities she did not know she had before. Jumping from fire to fire was only a small part of them. If she became fire now, she could travel in that form through the air.
And William must be feeling the same changes within him.
She could not believe the powers he had nor the size he had become in that circle. And yet he never lost himself to it all. That was another change to them—they did not lose their humanity even as they became something else.
By the time they reached the battle, it was dissipating, for Lord Hugh was already retreating, escaping with those of his soldiers still alive, riding north over the hills. The wall of fire evaporated as he took his attention from it to save himself.
“There are more circles,” Aislinn said from behind them.
Glancing back, she saw Brisbois standing guard at the priest’s back.
William turned and nodded. “And you know their location? How to find them?” he asked.
“I read the signs on the altar stone before it was destroyed and await the prophecy that will complete it.”
“When will that come, Aislinn?” Brienne asked.
“As and when the gods allow it.”
“We should see to the wounded and organize ourselves for the journey,” William said, tugging her hand. She smiled as she realized that he had not let go of her since they survived the ritual a few minutes ago.
They began to walk toward the people who gathered around the field, but she tugged William to a stop.
“Give me a moment. I wish to speak to Brisbois.”
From his darkening expression, neither William nor the warblood in him liked the idea. He gazed at her, and she let him know all was well. He kissed her hand and released it, walking at Aislinn’s side a few paces ahead of them.
“Why did you do it?” she asked the man whose actions had saved her and Aislinn, and probably ensured their success over his master.
He gave her that look, the one that said he did not wish to discuss such matters, and continued walking. Then he spoke quietly.
“You frightened him, girl. No one has done that before. And better than that, you defied him.”
“And you have served him for a long time?” she asked, knowing nothing of how or why this man had become Lord Hugh’s torturer.
“From the moment of his birth,” he said, drawing back the sleeve of his tunic to reveal the same mark that she carried. “We shared our mother’s womb, but only one could have the power. He was firstborn and inherited it. I became his to command, since he was the heir.”
Brienne stopped and stared at his face then. She’d never looked for nor seen the resemblance before and yet it sat there in plain view.
“Brienne?” William called out to her, sensing her distress. She waved him on and faced her . . . uncle.
“Twins?” she asked. His face had been changed over time and from injuries and hadn’t been influenced by the goddess’s power into something different from his brother’s. He nodded. “And now?” she asked, unsure how she could be certain of his loyalty while Lord Hugh yet lived.
“I am still in service to the heir,” he said gruffly. He went down on his knees in front of her. “If you will have me.” Holding out his arm to her, Brienne stared as the mark they shared glowed. Stunned by his words and his offer, it took her a moment to accept both.
“I am the heir?”
“Aye, girl. The only one.”
“Then I accept your loyalty and your service.”
She placed her own mark on his, and their skin melted, allowing their blood to touch. He hissed as the power touched him, but he did not pull away until the marks separated on their own. By the time William returned to her side, Brisbois had regained his feet.
“What are your orders, my lady?” he asked.
The thought of having someone at her command unnerved her. William took her hand and nodded, understanding that this man had pledged his loyalty.
“As William said, guard Aislinn always, until I say otherwise.”
“As you command, my lady.” Her uncle nodded, this time with a wink at her, and followed Aislinn as she made her way to where the priests gathered.
“Your first warrior,” William said. “And your first order. How did that feel?”
“Not my first warrior and not my first order, William.” She rose onto her toes and kissed his mouth. “You were my first.” Another kiss. “And my first order was for you to kiss me.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up against him, and she felt his body respond to her. And he kissed her. More than a kiss, he claimed her. She tasted the passion in him as he possessed her. Lifting his mouth from hers, he smiled at her, and it warmed her as no fire could.
“I cannot promise obedience, but I pledge to be faithful and to always be at your side,” he began. “And to love you, Brienne. If you will have me?”
The love in his gaze was all she needed to see before giving her answer.
“Aye. I will have you,” she said, emphasizing the last words. He laughed and kissed her, hearing it.
“First, things to see to. Then the having will begin.”
* * *
Marcus watched as the priests gathered, forming a circle around those who had fought the battle. Then, nodding to the couple, he watched as they came forward together, hands linked as they’d been since the ritual.
Though this was not a duty he’d performed often or recently, he’d agreed to witness the giving and receiving of vows, joining the lives of these two whose souls and blood had been united already. Now it was time to give their hearts.
As they spoke the words that would make them husband and wife, Marcus smiled and guided them, just as he had before for others in his care and would again. These two had taken on the mantle of leadership, the first two of the bloodlines to rise and the first two to be proven in battle against the evil one. They would lead the journey as they sought the next circle and lead the struggle as some lived and some died.
He could feel not only the love between the two of them, but also the way it sparked their powers even more. They would be more together as one than the sum of them separately would be. Something they would learn very soon.
As they spoke, tiny glimmers of light appeared and floated above them in the air, sparkl
ing and shimmering, forming shapes and signs that only he and Aislinn could see. Their gazes met, and she smiled, for they bore witness to the blessing of the gods they served.
It was right. It was blessed. It had been foretold.
His own powers surged, letting him know that the prophecy they needed would be given soon.
After the ceremony, they shared a simple meal before seeking rest. This endless day had proven a success—the one whose name he dared not speak remained imprisoned in the timeless chasm and one gate had been sealed. They needed rest and healing so that they could begin the fight anew.
As William and Brienne walked out of the camp toward a more private place for their first night together, Marcus summoned the priests. They needed to pray and offer thanks to the gods. And they needed to wait for the words to be given to them.
Rest would have to wait on the gods, even as they did.
Chapter 26
The path wound down the hill and through a small copse of trees until it ended near the stream. The night grew chilly, as the beginning of spring in Scotland was never warm. It mattered not to him, and from the becoming flush in her cheeks, his wife did not notice it. He lifted the torch to show the path. Aislinn had whispered of preparations, and then she’d blushed, knowing what this night would bring.
William had been living in a constant state of arousal for Brienne since their first meeting, and no efforts on his part to douse that desire had worked. And that one night, when he had held her naked body to his, feeling her arousal and watching her peak, had been a torturous one for him.
But this night . . .
They reached the stream and found a tent set up there. Roger stood before it, waiting for them. Brienne, fearless, brave Brienne, tucked in close to him, became suddenly shy.
“Roger,” he greeted the man, and handed him the torch. They would have no need for it.
“Will.” Roger held the tent open for him.
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