Claimed & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  The paintings and sculptures came from foreign planets. She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but they exuded an exotic air. She paused in the middle of the staircase and gawked. Flying stars, was that a dragon’s egg? The mother must have died otherwise she’d have torn up the castle searching for her egg. Dragons never gave up when it came to protecting their young.

  “How many soldiers are leaving the castle with us?” Jarlath asked.

  Ellard’s mouth twisted. “Six.”

  Keira hurried to catch up. “But there are dozens of soldiers in the main hall.”

  “I’ll be coming with you.” Ellard’s gaze settled on her, his expression one of warning.

  She understood he was worried about Jarlath’s safety, so she kept her fury to herself and struggled to keep her inner crow calm. He means nothing. He doesn’t understand.

  Caw-caw. Her crow’s grumpy reply didn’t lend reassurance, and she clenched her hands to fists.

  “I am coming with you,” Ellard repeated. “It’s my job to protect the prince.”

  “Your father will discipline you for leaving the castle and for letting me loose.” Jarlath didn’t hold back with his assessment. He slipped his arm around her waist, the calming effect on her crow immediate. “My parents expect me to obey them and for you to make me follow orders. They will demand punishment or demotion, even if your father doesn’t. You don’t have to come with us. Stay. Tell them I crept out without your knowledge.”

  Ellard threw up his hands, his agitation clear. “No, how can I stay when my father is making a mistake? What happens if they manage to bomb the castle? They’ll take out everybody.”

  Jarlath scowled. “You speak the truth.”

  “We might be stuck in the castle too, if I can’t get us back out,” Keira said. “I have no idea what I’m doing or how I’m doing it.”

  “So you say,” Ellard said in a voice pitched for her hearing. “I’m coming with you. I want to check on Mareeka.”

  “Fair enough,” Jarlath said, and some of the tension in Keira dispersed. Ellard wasn’t a bad man. He was merely attempting to do his job.

  Six soldiers waited at the front entrance, and their presence started her thoughts on another trail.

  “They’re going to know it’s something I’m doing,” she murmured. “That’s if I manage to pass through the barrier again.”

  “Stand in the doorway, right where the barrier is,” Ellard ordered. “Maybe if you break the barrier they’ll be able to exit and not realize how they managed the feat.”

  As they neared the doorway, Keira heard the low hum of the barrier. She kept walking, the magic friendly and welcoming. Once she stood in the doorway, the vibrations thrummed through her body. Her crow started to chatter, loud and excited, also feeling the greeting, and Ellard gave her another of those suspicious glances. The longer she stood breaking the barrier, the more the vibration ached and throbbed in her bones. Welcome turned to punishment as if the magic sensed her other half—the foreigner—and wanted to eject the interloper.

  “Move,” she gasped, a sharp pain in her stomach buckling her knees.

  Jarlath took a step and propelled a soldier with him. They smacked into the transparent barrier. It fizzed and sparked and Keira cried out at the sharp pain that shot through her body.

  Ellard wrenched Jarlath and the soldier free.

  “Grab, Keira,” Jarlath said. “Jerk her free.”

  Ellard hesitated and gingerly grasped her arm. “Walk through,” she said through gritted teeth. “Hurry.”

  When he hesitated, she yanked on his arm. He shot through the barrier and turned to face them.

  “The soldiers,” she said to Jarlath.

  Thankfully, Jarlath understood the urgency in her voice. “Quick. One at a time. Hold her hand and walk through the barrier like Ellard did.”

  With each soldier who passed through the barrier, the spurts of pain became more agonizing. Her crow shrieked, the alarmed caw-caw almost deafening her. She slapped one hand over an ear and fought the urge to cover her other ear too.

  “Keira, are you okay?” Jarlath cupped her cheek, and some of the discomfort receded. Jarlath anchored her and soothed her crow.

  “Go faster. Can’t. Hold. On. Longer.”

  The two remaining soldiers observed her with speculation, especially when Jarlath touched her with such tenderness.

  “Only two more left, Keira. You can do this,” he said.

  She helped a soldier pass through the barrier and reached out to grasp the hand of the last man. Her heart ventricles raced, and she groaned as he released her hand.

  “Just me left, sweetheart,” Jarlath whispered. “Walk through the barrier with me.”

  Her hand trembled as she reached for him, and it felt as if a heavy weight sat on her chest, constricting her breathing, costing her effort to carry out the order her brain issued. Her vision started to go dark, the color seeping from her world. She blinked to clear her sight but the black grew larger and larger until but a pinprick remained.

  “Jarlath.” Even forming the words and getting them out proved difficult, and panic began to run in tandem with the excruciating pain.

  Jarlath seized her hand, then the black crowded out the last of the color, and she felt herself crumpling, falling, falling, falling.

  Jarlath caught Keira before she hit the ground.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Ellard demanded. “Is she dead?”

  “You’d like that. She didn’t have to help us.” Bitterness coated his tongue at his friend’s attitude when Keira had aided them of her free will. “Keira’s death would make everyone happy.”

  “Jarlath, your recent behavior has been—”

  “Leave us.” Jarlath checked for her pulse rate and found it, fast and choppy but still alive. Her face was pale with not a sign of her usual healthy green tinge.

  “You didn’t let me finish,” Ellard said and squatted beside them to test her pulse rate himself. He grunted. “I might not approve of Keira Cloud, but I like the way she has shook you from your lethargy. You’re acting more like the Jarlath I remember from our childhood. I thought your spirit had been crushed beneath duty and responsibility.”

  “I’m heir to the throne.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have fun. Our parents think they know everything. They want the status quo. They think sticking to tradition is best. They’re wrong. We must modernize, embrace new technology, so we’re not left lagging behind our enemies. One day you’ll be the king, and you must forge your own path. The right one for our people.”

  Jarlath stared at his friend. This was practically treason coming from his friend’s lips. “What if I don’t want to be king?”

  “It’s your duty,” Ellard said with a careless shrug. “Keira seems to be coming around.”

  Jarlath stared down at her pretty face. He’d noticed the golden flecks in her eyes, but now there was more gold than green. What was happening to her? Had they done this by needing her help to pass the barrier?

  “What happened?” she croaked, more crow than humanoid.

  “You passed out. You need to rest.”

  “I’m all right,” she croaked again. “Tired.”

  She didn’t look as if she’d manage to crawl on her knees let alone walk.

  “Ellard, can we get transport from the royal garage?”

  “No, I need to find the owner of the magic stall,” Keira said, her reply stronger this time.

  “Why?” Ellard demanded.

  “We’re under attack. Securing a protection spell makes sense. I need to protect my people.” Fear flashed across her face, fleeting yet recognizable, and it made Jarlath wonder about her insistence on seeking out the charms.

  “I’ve sent the soldiers off in pairs to gather information,” Ellard said. “They’ll meet us at the castle. If you’re determined to go to the lower city, we should stick together. We won’t appear threatening if we have a woman with us.”

 
“No, it’s dangerous. Keira is hurt.”

  “Jarlath, help me up. I’m made of stronger stuff. We should leave before we attract more scrutiny.”

  Jarlath and Ellard glanced in the direction she indicated. A cloaked man stood in the square, his attention on them. When he noticed their interest, he reached into his red cloak.

  Ellard pulled out his weapon. “You! Move along. No loitering outside the castle.”

  When Jarlath trained his blaster on him too, the man hurried away and disappeared around the corner.

  “He wasn’t there when I first passed through the barrier,” Ellard said. “Let’s go before he brings back friends.” He waited, his weapon at the ready, while Jarlath lifted Keira to her feet. “Question anyone we see and persuade the able-bodied men to assist in our fight.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Jarlath whispered. “I can take you back to the farm.”

  “Not before I purchase the charms.” She took a step and staggered, pressing a hand to her head as if it ached.

  Jarlath curled his arm around her waist to hold her upright. “You’re not well. I’ll take you home then return to help Ellard.”

  “Enough with the lovers’ sweet nothings,” Ellard snapped. “We need to collect information. Organize the soldiers from the lower city base.”

  Jarlath was surprised Ellard didn’t insist he stay at the castle. Maybe he’d decided to save his breath and battles for the important things. This was war and objectives changed.

  “No more sweet nothings,” Jarlath murmured to Keira. “This is serious.”

  A chortle emerged from her, and the small sound heartened him. His Keira was strong and courageous. A true warrior.

  * * * * *

  House of Cawdor, Planet Gramite

  “How is the attack progressing?” Razvan Cronan demanded of the six wizards who stood before a huge scrying bowl. All young, all ambitious, the magic men had volunteered for this job, despite knowledge of his uncertain temper and insistence on results.

  Razvan didn’t tell them, but their progress pleased him, made him proud. This was innovative and the scope of his plan unique, a scheme he’d conceived two cycles ago and his father had rejected as impossible. A pity the old man wasn’t around to see his success.

  “Most of the security force is trapped in the castle with the royal family,” a man wearing fake cat ears and whiskers said. He was in charge of the wizards’ wellbeing.

  “Mareeka and Marjo have reported this also,” Razvan said, speaking of the women in his life—the other members of his triad—who currently acted as his team on the ground on Viros. “Excellent job.”

  An unstoppable force and his secret weapon in the war against the House of the Cat.

  Razvan studied the magic men. Their bare chests gleamed with sweat and strain showed in their faces. They’d trained for this attack, practiced for the last cycle, but he could see they’d need a break soon. He couldn’t afford to lose any of these men because they didn’t have replacements strong enough to help.

  “Thank you, sir,” their spokesman said.

  Razvan gave a curt nod and withdrew from the war room, closing the door on his magic men so they remained undisturbed.

  “How goes the attack, Razvan? How goes the attack?” His mother, a tall, spare woman with a sharp blade of a nose and golden eyes stared at him in clear expectation of a report. She wore a black mourning suit—a thin tube of fabric that covered her from shoulders to just below her knees—in deference to her husband’s demise.

  Razvan bit back his impatience but not fast enough.

  “I helped you gained the position of leader,” she spat. “I helped speed your father on the way to the crow sanctuary. I helped. I helped.” Her eyes glowed with inner fervor while her mouth was a thin slash of determination. “The least you can do is to keep me appraised of our progress. Keep me appraised. Keep me appraised.”

  Not quite true. Officially, his father had died from the fever that had killed many others on Gramite, a mystery illness, which had flared up during the last cycle around the same time as the increase of mossie bugs. The head scientist had tried to tell him he was at fault with his magical trials and the excess rain they’d caused. The rain, he’d said, had created stagnant ponds, which encouraged the breeding of the bugs. Razvan smiled. He’d soon put the scientist right.

  “Razvan, I’m talking to you. Talking to you. Talking to you.”

  Razvan bit back his irritation and answered so she’d go away. “The castle and most of the security force is sealed off. No one can enter or escape. The people in the city are frightened. They are rioting and I understand there has been looting. I intend to contact Mareeka and Marjo soon to make sure they are in position. The bombing will resume as soon as I give the word.”

  “And his fledgling spawn? His spawn? His spawn?”

  “I have located her once and will again.” The fledgling was proving more difficult to find. She’d been clever enough to keep her hearths devoid of fire, but he would find another way. She would be his again. Of course, she was no longer virgin, but he could use her as a plaything for as long as she held his interest. Once he’d rid himself of this compulsion to have her, he’d pass her on to his men. They’d appreciate the gift.

  But first, he’d teach her who was boss. He’d teach her she couldn’t escape his might. He’d teach her the true meaning of fear.

  “I’ll check in with my women.” Razvan halted when his mother’s hand shot out to grasp his upper arm. Her bony fingers pierced his skin—a sure sign of her agitation if she couldn’t control her crow from bleeding into an appearance. The woman was mad. Useful, but crazy. His gaze went from her hand curled around his forearm to her face. “Yes?”

  “Don’t let that woman get between you and success, my son. Your father failed because of the mongrel bitch. I wouldn’t want you to make the same mistake with the mongrel bitch’s fledgling. Same mistake. Same mistake.”

  Razvan fought to keep his irritation banked behind a bland smile. “I know what I’m doing, Mother. My planning has been meticulous and nothing will get in the way of my success.”

  Becoming one with Mareeka and Marjo had made him stronger and confident. He would not fail.

  They would not fail.

  She scrutinized his face with a beady gaze, and he barely repressed his shudder of distaste. He didn’t trust his mother, not after the way she’d taken the opportunity to dispatch his fever-weakened father. He might not manage to prove her a murderess but he knew in his gut and that was enough to make him wary.

  “Don’t make a mistake. You have the Virosians in a vulnerable state. Don’t ease up and take your boot from their throats. Boot on throat. Boot on throat.”

  “Of course not, Mother. We need their resources and workers to man the mines we will seize.”

  She gave a stiff nod and hopped from the room, the fabric of her black suit rustling with each bounce.

  Razvan didn’t show a flicker of expression until she disappeared from sight.

  “Mother isn’t sane,” Carrick, his younger brother, said from behind him.

  “How long have you been there?” Razvan didn’t like to think his brother could sneak up on him without his knowledge. Sneaky and unpredictable, Carrick bore some of the same characteristics as their mother. Razvan didn’t trust him either, but he wasn’t stupid enough to upset him with hasty words.

  “Long enough,” Carrick said. “Mother is retreating into her other self more and more. I haven’t seen her walk anywhere for ages. She hops.”

  “I know,” Razvan said. “Do you have time to help me plan a bombing?”

  “Bombing?” Carrick’s wide grin bore a trace of madness. “You’ve just said the magic word.”

  * * * * *

  “Grata! I didn’t think the damage would be this bad,” Ellard said. “The soldiers who reported in before the barrier went down spoke of small disturbances.”

  “We have to stop the fighting,” Jarlath said.


  “We need more soldiers,” Ellard said. “And Father isn’t about to release them, even if we could get them through the barrier. Keira blacked out after getting us plus the six soldiers through. No, stick to the plan and get to the lower base.”

  “Start recruiting men and women to serve as we go through the city,” Keira said, seemingly recovered from her blackout. “Offer to pay them if they will help restore order.”

  Ellard shook his head. “I don’t know about payment. Father—”

  “The head of security isn’t here,” Keira said. “You can’t expect people to risk their lives for the few who live the high life because that is who you’re protecting. None of you care about the people who inhabit the lower city.”

  “I will authorize wages for a civilian army,” Jarlath said.

  The upper city streets were empty, and most of the shops had their windows and doors barred. Shouts drifted from farther down the hill and they saw more people on the streets. Some were fighting and others…

  Jarlath watched in disbelief as a woman and a child smashed a window and seized the goods they could reach. The woman lifted the child and shoved him through the window. Once through, the child disappeared then reappeared to thrust stolen goods back to his parent.

  “Who is that?” Keira asked.

  Jarlath looked in the direction she pointed and frowned at the man. He wore a scarlet red cloak, the hood raised to screen his face. He stood motionless, his attention on a fixed point in the distance.

  “There’s another man at the other end of the street,” Ellard said. “I should question them. They’re dressed the same manner as the man we saw when we left the castle.”

  “There’s something odd about them. They’re standing like statues carved from red onyx. I think we should go,” Keira said. “I’d feel happier if we wore protection spells.”

  “Which way?” Jarlath asked. “I’m not familiar with this part of the city.”

  “You’re right. Best to get to my soldiers first. This way,” Ellard said. “The main steps will be quicker. Jarlath, you lead. I’ll watch our backs.”