His field of vision began to blacken about the edges, and he knew he had only a few more seconds before he passed out on the floor. He would wake up in less than a minute, but he’d have a hell of a headache and a gloating woman on his hands.
RuArk reached back, grabbed her beneath her arms and lifted her over his head. He rose from the floor holding her suspended above the hard, muddy floor and shook her like a rag. It took considerable strength given Rhia was no stick doll, not to mention her attempts to knee him in the head. He slammed her back against his chest again and stood with a very unhappy and dizzy female wrapped firmly about the shoulders. When Rhia started struggling again—gods, the woman was strong—he tightened his hold a bit more knowing she’d either give up or pass out. And with Rhia, it would surely be the latter.
Joan screamed in her friend’s ear, “Rhia, cut it out! Stop struggling!” She then turned on RuArk, too short to get directly in his face, but yelled loud enough to make his ears ring.
“You let her go!”
RuArk didn’t reply, but continued to apply the required pressure. Sweat rolled down Rhia’s face and if her shallow breathing was any indication, her lungs were having a hard time of it. But she refused to give up. They were a filthy mass of tangled hair, muddy arms and legs and neither ready to give any ground.
“Rhia! Stop it, now!” Joan tried to pull Rhia loose without actually touching RuArk.
This was ridiculous. He stood in a room full of armed soldiers, muddy as a dog, his arms around the First Heir. The woman he would spend his life with happened to be trying to kill him in the middle of a cold, semi-exposed training area when he was supposed to be looking for traitors. It was just too much. RuArk couldn’t help it. He fell backward to the floor, took a very dirty Rhia with him and started laughing. A deep, booming sound that resonated through the pavilion.
“I. Refuse. To. Lose.” Rhia hissed and thrust a well-aimed elbow into RuArk’s stomach. Her grimace said what he already knew—all she managed to do was hurt herself. Then she tried to reach up to pull his hair, screaming to the rafters. Good gracious, this was madness. He laughed hard enough to shake his whole body, along with the woman on top of him.
Thankfully, only soldiers and Council members were allowed on the ground floor of this building. RuArk was sure that was the only thing that kept all the heads that peeked into the doorways from becoming a large number of bodies that filled up the room.
Fucking hell.
Grey Greysomne entered the pavilion with several of the Council of Seven trailing after him. He was surprised they hadn’t come sooner with all the cheers and yells that carried through the open archways.
“Rhia, there’s no dishonor in losing fairly. Now cut it out,” Joan hissed as she knelt in the muck next to her friend. Lowering her voice to an urgent whisper, she said, “The whole Council of Seven is watching. And your father.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Her father?
Blasted hell.
Rhia stopped struggling. Joan stopped yanking on Rhia. Both women were mortified. The asshole underneath her continued to grin.
It took Rhia a few moments to realize that her arms had been released and she was now lying on top of the man as if she belonged there. In spite of the cold winds rushing through the open archways, her body was sweaty and hot. Her face was on fire. Not that anyone could see her flushed skin through the plaster of dirt.
With all the dignity she could muster, she rolled off RuArk’s chest, stood and turned to face her students, the Council members... and the High Counsel himself.
Grey Greysomne stood in the sparring circle not more than five feet from where the three of them had been sprawled. Joan nervously attempted to dust off her tunic and breeches, but only managed to rub the dirt in deeper. Rhia’s formerly gray cropped tunic looked slept in, the knees of her matching leggings torn, stained and caked with mud. She tried to smooth her matted hair away from her face. And RuArk’s deep, rumbling laughter still filled the pavilion.
The High Counsel’s lips pressed into a grim line, his eyebrows drawn into a deep scowl. But the man looked more perplexed than upset as he calmly took in the scene without saying a word. The other Councilor’s chins had dropped to their sanctimoniously fat chests as they surveyed the grimy mess with wide eyes. With the exception of her father and Councilor Collaidh, these were the most indulgent people in all of Draema. Rhia almost rolled her eyes at their gasps as they held their plump little fingers to their breasts in utter horror. So what, the First Heir and her assistant instructor had been rolling around on the floor, kicking and screaming like crazy people.
The High Counsel approached with ease. “Rhia?” That was all he needed to say.
She stood there, working her mouth, but nothing came out.
“This is new,” RuArk whispered into her ear.
“What?” she hissed back.
“You, speechless.”
“Rhia, you know what I want to know.” The High Counsel crossed his arms over his still well-built chest and waited for her answer.
“Yes, father. Well, I... uh... see we were... and Joan, but then he wouldn’t, and I... Oh blasted hell.”
“The Blademaster was demonstrating how to fight without a blade, sir. I did learn some new techniques. It was most enlightening,” RuArk cut in.
And what the hell was going on here anyway? RuArk yet again acted as if he were new here, but they’d known each other since she was born. And her father wasn’t disputing RuArk’s words? This was just... weird.
Chancing a peek his way, the current bane of her existence rewarded her with a blinding smile and as graceful a bow as he could muster without slipping in the mud. His gray eyes sparkled with mischief as he winked.
Rhia eyes went wide. That was a ‘you owe me one, woman’ wink if she’d ever seen one.
With a nod, the High Counsel said, “Rhia, meet me in my office. One hour.”
“Yes, sir.” After a smart nod of acceptance, she turned to the assembly. “Second blades, right here tomorrow morning as scheduled. Everyone, clear out. I don’t want to hear a sound as you do it. Dismissed.”
She and Joan moved stiffly toward the closest archway. Feet slid and flapped as they went. Their eyes fell on RuArk as they passed with scowls cold enough to rival the chilly morning air.
As she moved further away from him, Rhia grumbled, “I don’t know if I’m angrier with that man or myself. My father saw me rolling in the mud, brawling like a common street fighter. Oh, but I’ll get even with that, that... Grrrr. Just wait.”
With an exasperated sigh, Joan replied. “It isn’t his fault you lost your wits, girlfriend. And it’s not his fault you lost the fight either.”
“Of course it’s his fault,” Rhia said out of the side of her mouth. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
Chapter Seven
Sara set the tray on the dining table in the High Counsel’s offices. Bowing and wringing her hands nervously, she asked, “Is there anything else, sir?”
She couldn’t look into his eyes, not after what she’d done. Perhaps she could still get out of here before Rhia’s body was discovered. The tea would be found laced with whatever she’d put in it. She would have to flee and quickly. Terror swamped her. Where was she supposed to go? The High City had always been her home.
“Sara?”
The High Counsel watched her from the same hand-carved wood and polished stone-inlaid desk that had been gifted to him from the Gaian people as a wedding gift so many seasons ago.
“Yes, sir,” she stammered as her gaze snapped up to meet his. She hadn’t been listening to what was being said. Too busy thinking about how she’d slipped into Rhia’s room not long ago. As a Houseman assigned to the Citadel, it was her job to anticipate the needs of the household... and to know that the First Heir always returned to her tower apartment to snack and change clothes after the early morning class.
And Sara had... No, she wouldn’t think about it. The man who came to
her in the dark would take care of it. He would take care of everything.
“Is something wrong, Sara? Do I need to send a Physician to you?”
“No, sir. I’m fine, sir, really. Um, sorry, sir.”
“You may leave now, Sara.”
RuArk watched as she flew out the door. The woman’s eyes were haunted, held more than a little fear and something else that he couldn’t quite pin down. Intuition had long been his friend and it told him to put a watch on that one.
The High Counsel motioned RuArk toward the food-laden table. “I’ll join you in a moment. I have a few things to take care of.” He returned his gaze to the stack of papers in front of him and after a moment or two of charged silence, he said, “So, I see that you and Rhia have become reacquainted.”
“If that’s what you wish to call it,” RuArk chuckled as he sat. Recalling Rhia’s ferocity in the circle, his fingers touched a tender spot just below his jawline where her elbow had caught him. A couple of self-applied stitches had closed the cut on his chest. And the swelling beneath his right eye was easing up thanks to a quickly applied med patch that all of his warriors were required to carry at all times. You never knew when you’d find yourself in a battle... like this morning.
“I intended to be in the pavilion only long enough to observe the behavior of the soldiers. It stands to reason that whoever is behind this plot has unrestricted access to your daughter.”
“I hate all this mystery, RuArk,” Grey said. “Have your men uncovered anything more? I agreed to send Rhia to Harbor Station to give us a few weeks to poke around without her interference. The woman is everywhere, teaching one combat class or another, seeing this ambassador or that diplomat. We don’t want her to start suspecting things when she notices you are everywhere she happens to be. Especially since you’ve been to the High City many times over the years on business and she hasn’t seen you on any of those visits. At all. She hasn’t mentioned it, but you can be sure she certainly noticed.”
Well, that had been on purpose. His decision to avoid anything and anyone that might distract him from becoming the unquestioned Protector of his people had seemed a sound choice at the time. Now, given the current circumstances, he wasn’t so sure.
RuArk inclined his head in agreement. “I was a fool to believe I could get out of the pavilion without her noticing me. That is her territory, after all.”
Grey Greysomne laughed and almost choked on his coffee. “RuArk, who wouldn’t notice a six-and-a-half-foot brawny warrior with hair down his back, worn in the traditional Gaian style? We Draeman are considered a bit hipper than that. And a breech over your dangly bits? I don’t even want to think about where you ended up having to scrub the mud from.”
RuArk enjoyed the moment with his father’s old friend, but the humor was short lived.
“I tossed a man out of her apartments the night we returned to the High City.”
Grey rose so quickly, papers scattered to the floor as he strode to the dining table to join RuArk.
“Who the hell dared to enter her apartments?” he thundered.
“Whoever he was, Rhia hurt him badly. Grey, he was trying to take her against her will, forcing her right there on her floor. She brought him under control quickly. When I got to them, he was bleeding nicely and about two moments from being able to never have children.”
RuArk gave the High Counsel all the details, from the lank dark hair, bulging eyes and pasty white skin, down to the size of the man’s boots. He left out the part about the unexplainable anger and possessiveness that made him grind his back teeth when he’d seen Rhia on the floor with blood on her clothes and welts on her face. The Seeking had shown him that she was his and it had taken all his self-control not to let Rhia finish the job.
“Sounds like Bryan Collaidh, Council Rama Collaidh’s son. That bastard left the High City cycles ago for something along the same lines. Son of a bitch.”
“Rhia was ready to kill him and would have succeeded if not for some unwelcome intervention from me, hence our disagreement in the pavilion this morning. She was trying to repay me for interfering. But if this Bryan person is involved, we will know soon enough.”
“He’s always wanted Rhia. They were engaged when they were very young.”
“Engaged?” Gut did an unexpected freefall as he experienced a jealous pang that made no sense. Rhia hadn’t been his way back then. If he was honest, she wasn’t his now. Not quite yet.
“Yes. It was during the years you were away training for your role as Protector.” A flicker of grief passed over the High Counsel’s face. “It ended badly, RuArk. Rhia spent some time under the care of the Physicians. I knew the man was back in the High City recently, but didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to even contact Rhia. She hates him, and he knows it. Well, this certainly puts some urgency into our plans.”
“Urgency? You mean other than your daughter’s attempt to skewer me?” RuArk chuckled, trying to bring a bit of levity into the situation. It was obvious Grey felt bad about what happened to Rhia all those years ago, but RuArk seriously doubted it was the man’s fault. After all, even when Rhia was little, when she got it into her head that she wanted something, she went after it with steam to spare... even if that something was bad for her. It’s part of what made her such a formidable fighter. She was no holds barred about everything. Always had been.
“We must definitely end this plot against her before she kills me.”
“She is splendid isn’t she?” The High Counsel’s grin was wide though his eyes reflected a weary sadness. “She’s just like her mother,” he sighed. The smile faltered all together. “Looks like her. Fights like her, too. I wish I would have sent her to spend time with her mother’s family across the borders more often but by the time I got my head on straight, I was too late. Rhia’s only aunt is long gone now.” The silence afterward said more than words ever could. Grey Greysomne had been a devoted husband, and now felt guilty for not being a better father.
The depth of the man’s love had made such an impression on a young RuArk, that even now he recalled the wonder at the two adults who’d smiled wistfully at each other all the time.
“Rhia’s a strong and honorable woman, but so much more vulnerable than anyone realizes. She’s spent so much time fighting men that she hasn’t had time to enjoy being loved by one. And I certainly don’t count,” Grey said quietly. Pouring two more crystal mugs of rich Gaian coffee, he handed one to RuArk.
“It will be a challenge.” One RuArk looked forward to. “And her one hour has come and gone yet she’s not here.”
“Don’t worry. If Rhia is anything, she’s a keeper of her word. She may be late, but don’t doubt she’ll be here. So,” he said, lifting his mug to RuArk in a toast. “To you and Rhia, and whether you realize it or not, the saving of this mighty province and its seven colonies.”
Slowly uncovering the trays full of dishes, RuArk watched the High Counsel close his eyes and inhale deeply. It was times like this that he really appreciated his culture. RuArk was honored that the High Counsel had gone out of his way to have the cooks prepare Gaian food. He would never understand why the Draeman preferred their artificial, bland, tasteless, plastic-like fare to real food.
Thankfully, instead of grainbread with calmonut butter, there was hot vegetable stew, and fresh crusty bread seasoned with what smelled like sage and slathered with butter. And, as always, a pot of hot, dark Gaian coffee. RuArk spooned himself a bowl of the savory fare. It smelled heavenly. He wondered if Rhia could cook, but seriously doubted it. After all, this place had a whole Society of Housemen for those kinds of things.
Forcing a chunk of what looked like poultry past his lips, RuArk chewed quickly and took a swallow of coffee to wash it down. After a few bites, RuArk took a deep breath and did his best to swallow. It smelled wonderful, but that was as far as the pleasure went. Perhaps the main cooks were off today?
The High Counsel put his spoon down. “So what are you thinking?”
<
br /> “I think we should have the private ceremony. But just you, Rhia and me. No Council members since we don’t know where loyalties lie.”
“I’d like to have my man, Mannon, come in as a witness. He’s the last Gaian serving in this house. And it would mean a lot to me if we did it the old way. I remember your customs well. I’ll speak the words and it will be done.”
Silence reigned for the rest of the meal, but RuArk’s mind traveled a mile a minute. This task had more to it than he’d thought. Not only was he gaining a mate, but a mate who wanted nothing more than to stick him in the gut and end him over a matter of pride. Even if Rhia weren’t a half-Gaian woman who knew nothing about what would be expected of her, she’d still be a hand full. He grinned into his mug.
Ancestors, I must be insane.
Breakfast done, RuArk followed the High Counsel to a lounging area where several plump chairs formed a semi-circle in front of a blazing glass-protected fireplace. Neither man chose to sit.
RuArk’s recalled the reaction of his body as he’d held Rhia locked in his arms. His arousal had been unexpected, swift and so strong he had to fight himself to maintain control of his cock while he physically fought with Rhia. He’d never experienced such a thing, especially in the middle of a fight. He’d slowly squeezed the breath from her body in hopes she would surrender just so he could let her go.
With a sheepish grin, RuArk asked, “Do you think she remembers all the, uh, events from when we were kids?”
“Oh, she remembers, all right. I could see it in her eyes while you were rolling around in the mud together. It took every ounce of my self-control to act like I didn’t know you when I walked into that pavilion and saw all your arms and legs tangled up together in that muck. It almost killed me not to laugh outright.
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