by Jayla Jasso
No response. He went back outside and circled the cabin, calling out into the surrounding trees. There was no sign of her or of the Nandals. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching and listening for any movement in the trees at all. He heard a twig snap loudly to his left, frowned, and moved in that direction to investigate.
#
As she neared the abandoned cottage, Jiandra glanced back over her shoulder for the umpteenth time to make sure she wasn’t followed. With any luck, the Nandals would still be well-hidden and safe. Yajna appeared capable enough of watching over them, but he wouldn’t be able to take on a patrol by himself, and she was eager to make sure he was all right.
Jiandra slowed Otto to dismount. Her feet had scarcely touched the ground when someone grabbed her from behind, hauled her back against his chest, and covered her mouth with his hand. She made a noise of protest and struggled against the arm pinning her, heart thudding in her chest.
“Keep quiet,” he whispered roughly near her ear. “There’s a soldier nearby.”
Jiandra recognized Yajna’s deep, silky Nandalan accent and nodded mutely. He reached in front of her to grab Otto’s reins, then grasped her hand and led her and the horse into the nearby trees, angling slightly away from the cottage and around to the rear of it.
In a few moments they came to a creek, and he took Otto to the edge of it for a drink. He patted and stroked the horse’s neck, murmuring something softly to him in Nandalan. Otto paused in his drinking to nudge him affectionately with his nose.
“He likes you,” Jiandra whispered.
“Yes. I used to train horses back home. This one is a good boy, and you handle him well.”
Her cheeks felt warm. “Oh, I doubt that.”
“It’s true. I don’t give compliments frivolously.”
She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile, then watched him continue to stroke Otto’s neck for a moment. “Gods, you gave me a fright back there. I am glad you are all right, though.”
He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. His exotic silvery gaze was rather unsettling, the hard angle of his jaw and the shape of his firm, sexy lips only adding to her lack of inner composure. He was strikingly handsome despite his grim demeanor, and his worn peasant’s shirt did nothing to conceal the muscles in his arms and upper chest, she noticed.
She cleared her throat. “And the others? Are they all right?”
“They’re safely hidden in the basement. I found a candle and a tinderbox down there while you were gone. I also found a bucket and took them some water from the creek.”
“They must be starved.” She turned to reach for the sack of loaves, untying it from her saddle and opening it for him to inspect. “I bought some bread for them in the village.”
“I’ll take it to them, check to see if the soldier has left. Keep some for yourself and wait here.” He took out a loaf, gave it to her, then carried the sack and disappeared through the trees.
Jiandra found her tin cup in Otto’s saddlebags and drank some water from the stream. She spread a blanket on the ground and settled herself on it to munch on the fresh-baked bread, listening to the hushed bubbling of the water in the brook, grateful for a moment of peace.
When Yajna returned, he seated himself next to her on the blanket.
She handed him a hunk of bread. “Is the soldier gone? Everyone all right?”
“Yes. He’s gone. They were thankful for the bread. You were very kind to get it for them.”
“It was nothing.”
He looked up. “Do you always refuse to hear praise about yourself?”
Jiandra glanced at him self-consciously. “No, I…don’t think so.”
He ate a piece of bread. “I have been wondering something about you.”
“What is that?”
“Why do you risk your life to help the Nandals? It seems very strange for a Villeleian.”
Jiandra brushed a few bread crumbs from her skirt. “I guess it does. But I’m not sure why other Villeleians act so cruelly toward them. The Nandals are human beings just like us, leaving Nandala to take refuge in Villeleia because they are doing the best they can to survive. I don’t like to see people crushed when they are desperate and unable to defend themselves.”
He didn’t respond to that.
“What made you leave Nandala to come here?”
He looked away. “What makes anyone abandon their homeland? Desperation, starvation, fear. The current emperor is a malicious, greedy murderer. He is a usurper. The throne rightly belongs to another man.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Would things change in Nandala if this other man were in power?”
“I believe they would.”
“Well, in the meantime, those of you taking refuge in our land obviously have nowhere else to go.” She sighed. “And since a Nandal tried to assassinate the queen, things have gone haywire. To my knowledge Villeleia has never committed such brutality against the innocent. I am hunting the assassin, and I must find him soon so that the queen will cease the detainment order against the Nandals.”
Yajna met her gaze. “Cease the detainment order? She’ll release the Nandal prisoners once the assassin is found?”
“Yes. At least, that is the plan.”
“And you intend to hunt him alone?”
“If I must. Solange sent those two guards with me to help, but I don’t think they like the way I do things. If you hadn’t shown up at the river, these people would have died, and neither of them would have gone out of their way to try and stop it. You saw their unwillingness to help me find shelter for them afterwards. So I thank you for helping me.” She gave him a shy smile, which he didn’t return.
“Why do you feel you are the one who must hunt for the assassin? Surely your queen has other agents.”
“The Gods sent me, or so I was told.” She fingered the pendant around her neck, held up the Omaja for him to see. “This stone I wear came to me for a purpose. And I cannot sit back comfortably and watch while so many are suffering—not when it is within my power to do something about it.” She let the pendant drop, and his gaze followed as it fell to her chest, lingering there a little longer than necessary, she noticed.
He cleared his throat. “What will you do with the assassin, once you find him?”
“Take him to Castle Villeleia to be arrested and thrown into the dungeon, of course.”
“And there they will execute him?”
“Yes, I suppose they will. And then the persecution your people are suffering can end.”
The sound of voices in the distance startled them. Yajna rolled over and flattened himself on his stomach on the ground. Jiandra followed suit, straining to listen.
“Wait here. I will go and see,” he muttered under his breath.
“No!” Jiandra grabbed his arm to stop him. His bicep was a solid, corded muscle under her hand. “I’ll go. If they see you, you’ll be captured.”
“They won’t see me.” He sprang to his feet with a panther-like movement and moved soundlessly through the trees toward the house, disappearing from her view.
Jiandra waited, listening to her own breathing in the quiet forest air.
He was back in a couple of minutes. He handed her a melon and lowered himself to the ground beside her. “A farmer and his son, driving a cart of these. I stole a few and stashed them under the front steps for the others.”
She sat up. “What? You stole melons from the cart? They could have caught you!”
He met her gaze, faint amusement in his silvery eyes. “No. I was very quiet.”
FIFTEEN
Brockriede and Logsdon arrived in Caladia at dusk without having seen any sign of Miss Stovy. Brockriede hoped she would show up in Caladia soon. The queen would not be happy with them if something happened to her.
“That blasted stone had better be protecting her,” he muttered to Logsdon as they rode along the streets, searching for an inn.
They tied their horses in front
of the Blue Boar, entered, and strode up to the bar.
“We’ll have two pints,” Brockriede told the barkeep, laying his coppers on the counter.
“Not to worry, chap,” Logsdon said as he eagerly reached for his ale. “Sooner or later, she’ll show up here to look for the assassin. We’ll just have to watch and wait.”
#
The forest surrounding the abandoned house grew dark as the sun began to set. Otto grazed along the creek bank, and Jiandra watched as Yajna sliced into the melon. He handed her a piece.
She bit into the juicy fruit. “The group can’t stay at this house long. Soon someone will catch on that people are hiding here. But I don’t know where else to send these poor people.”
“I agree; it isn’t safe for them to stay here.”
“Did they tell you where they live, or where they got captured?”
“Most them worked in or around Caladia, they said. But that is several hours’ ride north. Best if they flee farther east, I’d say. Look for other shelters in the woods, near streams like this one.”
She nodded. “Caladia is where I’m headed, to look for the queen’s assassin. I must leave and continue my search soon.”
He finished slicing the melon and cleaned the blade of his small knife on the hem of his tattered shirt. “I know I didn’t mention this earlier, but I think I know where the assassin’s hideout might be.”
“You do?”
“Yes. In some hidden caves up north, near the border with Nandala. I imagine he’s headed back up there right now to hide from the guards and soldiers.”
“How do you know this?”
“I crossed paths with a Nandalan fellow near those caves as I was traveling south. He’d been camping there for some time from the looks of his set-up. He had armor, and was carrying a bow and some other weapons. He said he had a job to do here in Villeleia and tried to hire me to help him.”
“Did he say what the job was?”
“No—he just said he could use some back-up in case things got rough, seemed to feel I looked big enough to be his bodyguard. Something just didn’t seem right about him, so I declined.”
“Would you be willing to take me to this hideout? I can pay you for your trouble.”
He hesitated. “Yes, but…we would have to stay away from the villages and travel by night so that I wouldn’t be spotted by guards looking for Nandals.”
“Of course. We can leave tonight.”
“You will be too exhausted to travel tonight.”
“I’m not too exhausted. I can make the trip.”
He looked dubious, so she urged him further. “I need to find the assassin as soon as possible. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please show me the caves.”
“What about your guards?”
“They are probably in Caladia by now. I don’t want to meet back up with them until after I apprehend the assassin. They are weary of me trying to help the Nandals and just want to be done with me and this mission.”
He gave no response.
“If you can’t go with me, will you at least draw a map?”
“No, you shouldn’t travel that far alone. I’ll go with you.”
Jiandra was relieved. “Let’s go see about the others and take our leave, then.”
He rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her up.
#
Back inside the little house, Yajna opened the trap door, and motioned for the ladder to be put into place. He lowered himself into the darkness first, then reached up to help the Villeleian woman down. He grasped her hand to keep her close by so she wouldn’t stumble over something. “Light the candle,” he commanded softly in Nandalan, and someone struck a piece of flint.
Yajna looked around at the dirty, frightened faces of the weary group, at the huge gray eyes of the children, at the wrinkled face of the old woman.
“The girl and I must leave now,” he told them in Nandalan. “Stay here as long as it seems safe, but you may want to split up and start seeking other places to hide soon. Travel only by night and stay away from the roads. For the time being, there are berries and game in the woods here, and a creek runs behind the house.”
The older man pushed forward to grasp Yajna’s forearm, grinning to reveal missing teeth. “I finally recognize you. You are a Son of Zulfikar. Your father is our rightful king!”
Yajna glanced at Jiandra’s face, grateful she didn’t understand their language.
“Tell the young lady that she is our savior. She has given Nandala hope. Tell her,” the man insisted, tugging at Yajna’s sleeve.
Yajna translated to Villeleian for Jiandra, leaving out the part about being a Zulfikar.
She nodded to the man, tears welling up in her soft green eyes. The youngest boy broke free from his mother’s arms and ran to hug Jiandra’s skirts. He released her and wrapped his arms around Yajna’s leg, and Yajna placed a hand on his head.
“May Tejeshwar guide you,” he murmured to the group in Nandalan.
“May Tejeshwar guide you as well,” they mumbled back in unison, bowing to him.
“Come,” he said to Jiandra, helping her onto the ladder.
Outside the house, night had fallen. In the darkness, Yajna climbed onto Otto and pulled her up behind him. She adjusted her skirt around her legs and grasped his waist. Yavi signaled him with a bird-call in the trees, and they set off in the direction of Caladian Road.
#
The man’s torso was solid, rippling muscle. Jiandra hardly knew where to rest her hands on him, so she ended up clutching fistfuls of his shirt, feeling so grateful that he’d agreed to take her to the hidden caves. He seemed completely unruffled by adversity, and that had a soothing effect on her anxieties and fears. Even Otto was relaxed and calm as Yajna guided him west along Fellspar Road through the woods. It dawned on her that for the first time since her parents died, she didn’t have to be the strong one. Yajna knew where to hunt for the assassin, and seemed confident and capable of getting the job done, even though he was a poor refugee and possessed no weapons or armor.
She studied his broad shoulders, muscular neck, the back of his head. There were several things about him that intrigued her. He stood a full head taller than most men, and he was extremely healthy and athletic. He wore ragged, torn clothes but carried himself with calm confidence in them. He had never panicked all through the prisoner cart ordeal, nor was he overly concerned about their close calls with the Fellspar guards. He was good with her horse, and he was resourceful, intelligent, and practical.
I don’t know where you found him, Lord Zehu, but thank you for sending him across my path. She thought of the gentle way he’d caressed Otto’s neck and touched that little boy’s head in the cellar. Kind heart, the heart of a savior. And on top of all that, he was—how should you put this, Jiandra? Gorgeous. Knees-melting gorgeous.
As they rode along in silence in the moonlight, she leaned in against him a little, relaxing her hands along his narrow hips, along the waistband of his pants. She’d never allowed herself to indulge much in romantic daydreaming; it seemed a foolish luxury she could ill afford with siblings to raise and a farm to run. But at the moment, it was difficult not to fantasize about him. He smelled of fresh air, of outdoors, and of exotic, musky spices. His manner was relaxed yet alert, not tense, worried, or rushed. His hard, lean body emanated a comforting warmth against her arms and legs. Her skirts provided a modest buffer between the back of his legs and the front of her thighs, but it was still a disturbingly intimate contact. Then again any contact with a man’s body would be intimate to me, the old spinster sister, she giggled to herself.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked softly.
“Oh, nothing in particular.”
Suddenly he tensed and moved Otto off Caladian Road, guiding the horse quickly into the shelter of the trees.
Jiandra sat up straight. “What is it?”
“Quiet,” he whispered tersely, reaching back to tuck her body closer against him, as if to hid
e her.
Through the dark silhouettes of the trees, torches glowed in the distance, moving south on Caladian Road. Yajna kept Otto perfectly still in the cover of the forest until the patrol passed by, and then guided him back onto the road.
Jiandra was fascinated. “How did you know they were coming? I didn’t see anything when you moved us off the road.”
“I have good hearing.”
Of course he does, she thought. “You make a good traveling companion,” she murmured sleepily, holding his waist. “An excellent bodyguard.”
He didn’t reply, and within another half-hour of riding, she was nodding off in the saddle. She leaned forward against his back, rested her head between his shoulder blades, and fell asleep.
#
Yajna felt her sleeping against his back. Tell her she is our savior. She has given Nandala hope. The old man’s words echoed over and over in his mind. Had he meant to say that she was the savior of the refugees, those within Villeleia’s borders? Or of the Nandal people in general, including those still in Nandala?
He was not often taken by surprise, but today, it had happened twice: first, witnessing the intensity of the Villeleian woman’s passion and determination up close as she tried to save those people from dying in the river, and later, when the little boy hugged his knees in the basement.
Just now she had called him a good companion and bodyguard and then drifted off to sleep as peacefully as a baby, hugging his back. He’d watched her for two days in that scrying fountain of Gerynwid’s and had not once seen her face look serene or peaceful. But today as he’d stared down at her rounded cheeks, her full lower lip, the curve of her neck under her cloak, she’d looked relaxed, even smiled at him a little. And all day long he had stared at the silver chain lying against the creamy skin of her collarbones, the magical stone dangling between her small, rounded breasts, and been too aroused by her to look for an opportunity to take it. What was worse, with her body resting against him and the Omaja stone pressed to his back, he could sense how its mystical energy resonated strongly with her being. It was sending off a warning vibration; it was extremely bonded to her and would not respond well to being removed from her body while she still lived.
