Lifting his chin, his green eyes glittered, and with an offended drawl, said, “Warriors are not ‘taken’. They take.” He cleared his throat and added, “Sir.” Though the rising color in his cheeks revealed his true emotions, Linc’s expression remained unreadable.
RuArk yanked his gear bag open and set it on a small table.
“And warriors do not lie. Not even to themselves,” RuArk replied without looking up from the clothing he neatly folded and packed with practiced skill.
Linc’s already flushed face deepened to an even darker shade. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, RuArk was honored to be one of the few to whom he would dare reveal any weakness. Linc’s gaze turned back toward the stairs as if a thought could bring back the woman who’d just descended them.
“I do not deserve her, Wind Storm. I have nothing to offer. Except my hard warrior’s body.” A half smile kicked up at the side of Linc’s mouth and RuArk snorted. “A life of roaming from place to place is not good enough for her.”
“She chooses this life, Linc. It is not put upon her. If you speak with her, you may be surprised at what you learn in regard to what she wants.” Knowing the other man was uncomfortable with such exchanges, RuArk changed the subject.
“Contact Marth. Tell him to finish his hunting and head to Neine as soon as possible. He is to bring his catch with him when he leaves here, but the fireteam stays behind to surveil. Everyone else will travel with you, Sharyn and me when it’s time. Give the orders and then meet me and Sharyn in the stables.”
“Why are we leaving today? I believed our plan was to go to the new holdings after the Draeman ceremony your lady requested.”
He rolled a pair of buckskin leggings, stuffed them into his gear and dropped the large leather bag at his feet with a loud thunk. With a deep breath, he revealed the reason for the hurry. “I had a Vision last night. What we do now is because of that Vision.”
“A Vision? You have never expressed that Gift before.”
“I was sure I was too old to manifest any true Gifts, though the Grandfather did speak of it the last time he walked the Dream with me.”
“The Gift of Vision? That is a rare thing.”
“Yes, and until I learn to master it, keep it between us.”
“I understand. What did you see?”
“I saw my lifemate on the road to Province Springs. It was so real I could have reached out and touched her. I could almost smell her.”
“But if you saw her going where she is supposed to go, why are we preparing to depart early?”
“Because Rhia was traveling to our new holdings alone.”
Linc’s eyes widened in amazement.
“It may be today. It may be two days. Either way, we leave when she leaves.”
“She’ll be upset that her plans are derailed, Wind Storm.”
“No, she won’t.”
With a wink, RuArk put his bag next to the door and headed to the stables.
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh come on Joan, please do this for me. Please.”
“Forget it Rhia,” Joan said hotly, slashing her hand through the air. Moving swiftly for the door, she could almost feel her dark eyes glow with anger. If she’d believed in a god, she would have prayed earnestly for the deity to come take Rhia away somewhere, anywhere but here trying to talk her into another dumb stunt.
“Ever since we were children I’ve done all kinds of stupid things for you and I always get caught. Your father’s going to kill you when he learns you haven’t been planning a wedding trip for the past few weeks. Instead, you’ve been planning to run. And don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to help you, because unlike you, I want to keep my skin.
“Get in here already.” She’d almost made a run for it when Rhia grabbed her by the hand and yanked her back into the apartments with a shush. “What if RuArk is next door?”
Joan didn’t really care. Hell, she almost wished the man would overhear what this numb-skulled woman was up to.
“What if I get caught? Your father would tell my father. Or worse, he’d have me carted off to Harbor Station and assigned to one of your brother’s airships. As a soldier, I don’t mind the patrol part of it, but you know I hate riding in those blasted airships. On the water or flying above it, they still make me want to hurl. Bleh.”
“Joan, I’m not asking you to help me leave the High City. I’m only asking you to go on this errand for my father.”
“Yeah, but it’s your errand. You’re supposed to do it, not me,” Joan fumed. Her nails raked through her curls until they stood on end.
“He’s always wanted me to delegate more of my duties, right?”
“Don’t even try that one on me, Ree. Forget it!”
“Come on, Joan. All you have to do is go to the Ambassador’s Quarters and give the High Counsel’s letter to the delegates from Eastern Maine. It grants them a negotiation session for the additional iozene they want to purchase. Just deliver it and leave.”
“But I don’t look or sound anything like you. What if they get suspicious?” Joan asked, not sure she really wanted Rhia to answer the question. Even thinking about it was crazy.
“They’ve never met me. Just put on my overcloak and keep the hood up. Oh, and uh... wear one of my outfits.”
“Blasted hell, Rhia, are you nucking futs? Yes, nucking futs because you’re obviously way mixed up right now,” Joan screeched. “You know good and well what kind of trouble I could get into impersonating the First Heir. Not to mention, wearing the colors of a Blademaster when I’m not a damn Blademaster. Hell, if I dressed up like you just to go take a pee, I’d still be breaking the laws of the Society of War. Girl, I need a drink,” she muttered, as she rolled her gaze up to the ceiling.
Joan stalked over to the dining table, needing some space to think. She poured herself a healthy glass of deep red wine and sat a moment, studying the fine circular mosaic that made up the dining area floor. Even the wine was against her, the sweet, fruity liquid was nowhere near strong enough. After numerous deep breaths and sighs, she finally cleared her head of visions of leaning over the side of a rocking, rolling airship, gliding along the river two stories up from the waters, feeding the fish with whatever she’d had for breakfast. When Rhia sat down across the table from her, Joan spoke up.
“All right, Ree, let’s cut to the chase. What’s with all the secrecy and sneaking off? Why can’t you just go on to Draema Neine and live happily ever after? Even if you didn’t want RuArk, which you know you do, there’s one small issue. You’re already married!”
Rhia hesitated. Joan moved in for the kill.
“Look woman, your honor requires you to keep your word. You said you’d go to Province Springs in Neine without a fuss, and that’s that.”
“I am going to Province Springs,” Rhia replied quietly.
“Then why do you want me to put my head on the block and impersonate you?”
“Because Brita and I are going to Province Springs alone. Not me, the big guy, his mistress, and...”
“Oooh-hoo-hoo!” Joan crowed, unable to keep the mirth out of her words. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re jealous of that gorgeous First Commander woman who’s always with your man? What’s her name again? Sharyn? Geez, Rhia, you don’t even know what her relationship is to the Wind Storm. She could be one of his blasted relatives for all you know.”
“I know who she is, Joan.”
Joan’s eyebrows inched up her face in wonder.
“Wait, let me get this straight. You are jealous?” It was too much. Joan set the glass of wine on the table, stood up and wrapped her arms around her belly. After a minute of fighting to hold back her chuckles, she practically hit the floor laughing. The First Heir of the most powerful province in the world was beautiful, had the body of a goddess and held the rank of Blademaster on top of that. But she was mad because her lifemate kept company with his own First Commander?
Ri-damn-diculous.
“Oh shut
it, Joan. I am not jealous. I just feel trapped. Everywhere I go, RuArk is there. Isn’t it enough I’m forced to spend the rest of my life with him? Do I want him? Yes. But not like this. I just want to get away to get my head together. I need out of here. Besides, there’s no law that says I can’t go where I want to go when I feel like going.”
Joan, still bent over holding her stomach, still chuckled as she sucked in great gulps of air trying to get her breath.
“And if you fall over laughing I’m going to kick you in the ribs.”
“I’m sorry Ree. Well, actually, I’m not sorry. Think about it, girl. You’ve been waiting for a man like this forever. He’s right here, and married to you. He’s even allowed you to royally avoid him for weeks, giving you time to get used to the idea of mating when he would have been within his rights to take you right then and there. What is your problem?”
“He and my father think I need him to protect me, but damn it, I can take care of myself. Besides, I have yet to challenge him, and no, that muddy stint in the pavilion didn’t count.”
“Rhia, he deliberately held back. It was obvious to me, if not to you, that he won fair and square. Besides, you’re married Rhia. You know, joined? Mated? It’s common courtesy to let your man know where you’re going.”
“I don’t recall those Gaian vows requiring me to get his okay to do what I want, go where I want. And don’t say it. The military is about orders. I know that, considering I give them every day. But this is... This is something else. I will not be controlled like this.”
“Ree, what are you afraid of?”
Silence.
Then finally, “Joan do you really think I want a wuss for a mate? I mean, maybe you were right when you asked...”
But Rhia didn’t have to finish. Joan remembered exactly what she’d said, standing in this very room, in fact. “You’re so used to running things, could you really handle a man you can’t push around?”
“It seems I’ve been raised to deal with every kind of diplomatic or military threat. But I have no idea what to do about reconciling being a mate with being, well, me.”
Aw hell, Joan thought as her heart softened at Rhia’s genuinely miserable and confused countenance. Sigh. She was such a sucker. “Well, I see I’ve hit a sore spot,” Joan said softly, feeling sorry for the sadness in her friend’s eyes. “I’ll run the errand for you, but I must be a total idiot for doing it.”
Relieved, Rhia hugged her tightly and sighed, “I love you, Joan.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let go of me, Ree. I’m smothering here with my face smashed up against your big breasts.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so short,” Rhia chided.
“And it’s not my fault you’re so tall. Even for a half-Gaian female you’re a blasted beanpole.”
After stuffing one of Rhia’s outfits into a small gear bag, Joan turned to Rhia. This was her best-friend, and she wanted her to be happy. There was no doubt in her mind that RuArk could give that to Rhia, but for now, a hug and a smile would have to do.
Shit.
◊ ◊ ◊
The Draeman weren’t a deeply spiritual people. They directed their own destinies, brought about their own fate. Brita had never spent much time praying, but now seemed as good a time as any to start asking whatever gods were out there to please tell the High Counsel to send someone to rescue her from the elements—of which she’d never been fond—and from Rhia.
Her ass hurt from riding a blasted horse—something she hadn’t done in more cycles than she cared to count. And with the full onset of spring, the clear skies allowed the bright sun to bake her to the back of the animal. It was too warm to ride with a cloak during the day, and now that the sun was setting, it was too chilly to ride without one. The day’s sweat had dried on her skin. She was itchy, stained, and she cringed at the thought of being none too clean.
“We shouldn’t have left without telling someone, Rhia. No one will know we’re out here if something happens to us. And I don’t see what was so bad about RuArk that made you believe high tailing it out of the High City was your only option. We’ve been riding forever and I want to go home.”
Rhia dismounted and tethered her borrowed gelding to a budding low-lying branch and turned to watch Brita struggle to dismount. Rhia replied with a lopsided grin and Brita wanted nothing more than to pummel her. She was never grumpy, but it seemed to be her middle name these days and it was all Rhia’s fault.
“Brita, we’ve only been riding for three days.”
“And a half, Rhia.”
“Fine, three and a half days. But the weather is perfect. Fresh air, blue skies. What more could we ask for?”
“What more? I’ll tell you what more,” Brita bellowed hotly, swinging down off her horse with a dexterity she certainly didn’t feel. The soreness of her backside and thighs briefly forgotten, she stalked toward her charge, her salt-and-pepper shoulder length hair ruffled by the breeze. Correction, the few dry strands that weren’t stuck to the side of her face, were ruffled by the breeze.
“Look, I came along because I didn’t want you riding into who-knows-what alone. Not to mention, if you got injured I’m the only one you’ll let anywhere near you that can treat wounds, though I’m tempted to feed you an enema right now. What more could I ask for? I could, for your information, easily ask for a soft bed, a hot bath, some decent food along with your father to come riding along in a nice enclosed hover. To. Save. Us!”
Rhia’s face split with a cheeky grin. The urge to smack her rose exponentially.
“You know that hovers don’t work way out here, Brita.”
“Well, we could have taken the fucking train!”
“Did you just curse at me? Oh my god, did you really? I haven’t heard you curse since I was a kid.”
Ignoring the question, Brita yanked her pack off her damn horse and let it drop to the ground, uncaring whether she’d broken anything useful or not.
“Yes, goddammit, I’m cursing! Fuck! Shit! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
Brita fairly bristled with anger. Her fair skin felt hot and red, but from the sun or her temper, she couldn’t tell and didn’t much care. Hell, she could almost feel her freckles threatening to get up and leave her face for the way she was mistreating it out in the wind and sun.
“You’re actually yelling at me?”
“Yes, damn it, I’m yelling! Ow!” Stomping her foot sent a wave of pain up her left butt cheek. That did it. She really needed to throw something. Now. Reaching down, Brita snatched up a good sized rock and hurled it for all she was worth—which wasn’t much, as tired as she was. Rhia didn’t even have to dodge the flying object that went careening off to her right.
With only enough energy left to throw her words at her charge’s back, she added, “Every colony has at least one train station. We could have taken! The! Fucking! Traaaaaain!”
Then she promptly plopped onto the nearest log and immediately regretted it when both sides of her butt spasmed.
“Damn horses,” she grumbled.
Damn Rhia.
Damn everything.
Grrrrrr.
◊ ◊ ◊
RuArk noted how well Rhia concealed her tracks. She and Brita weren’t traveling a straight line or taking the easiest path, yet the two women were still making excellent time.
As he packed his gear for the day’s ride, the Grandfather’s words resonated in his head. “Your Gift of Vision will not fail you.” And the old man had been right. The manifestation of that particular unexpected Gift while meditating one night was the only reason he’d been aware of Rhia’s plan to run. In fact, though he’d been sitting on the floor in his tower room with not a soul around, the Vision had been so clear, it was as if she’d been right next to him.
“Wind Storm, we have discovered something.”
Dalmore was a young warrior, solid, broad shouldered with stern, dark eyes, and high, chiseled cheekbones. His long, dark brown hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail of soft wave
s. His boyish face was tight and drawn, the pallor of his skin not its typical light, golden hue, but a sickly green.
Though he stood well over six feet, like all Gaian warriors, he was not as tall or thickly muscled as RuArk. There were few, Gaian or otherwise, who were. RuArk used it to his advantage as he rose to tower over the man. Pinning him with a hard glare, RuArk’s gray eyes pierced the younger Gaian to the quick. RuArk knew that only something deadly serious could shake the countenance of one of his men, but if the man could not face his leader, he certainly could not face an enemy.
“How long have you been in my service, Dalmore?” RuArk spoke softly, his words clipped, his tone menacing, and his face a picture of chiseled stone.
Completely still, head and chest held high, Dalmore locked eyes with the Protector of the Realm and refused to look away as he replied.
“This is my first assignment, sir. I was sent just as you departed the Miwatani Capitol for the northern borders.”
“Show me what you have found that makes you afraid.”
Dalmore’s stern expression slipped. “The Protector insults me by suggesting such a thing,” he said calmly, yet with all the assurance expected of one counted worthy to serve the Wind Storm of Gaia. “I am a Gaian warrior and fear nothing.”
Just the answer RuArk was looking for.
“Come then, Dalmore, show me.” Falling into step with the younger man, RuArk was led to the shady side of a knoll of huge trees with trunks so large that four men couldn’t circle them with their arms outstretched. On the other side of that knot of trees, hiding from the setting sun, sat a form covered with a thick white cloak.
“We were scouting ahead of the lady Rhia to make sure her way was clear when we came across this,” Dalmore spat. He gestured with repulsion toward the figure rolled up in a tight ball on the ground.
Noman.
But why? Their kind never ventured far from their own lands in the high country near the border they shared with Gaia. The few who did were usually driven back by the warriors who protected the caretakers of the priceless coffee fields nearby.
Lately the Noman packs seemed driven by something other than their need to feed. For this reason, RuArk had dispatched several fireteams of elite fighters to tackle the problem. In fact, he’d been on his way to join them when the Grandfather had appeared in the Dream with the warning about the plot against Rhia.
Wind and Fire Page 12
