by Rebecca York
“You didn’t find her?” the king asked in a harsh voice.
“She’s not in the castle,” Grantland, the prince, answered. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Perhaps she heard about your plan.”
The king fixed him with a piercing gaze. “How could she? You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“What about the boy who jumped into the river? Could that have been her?”
“She’s reckless enough to try it.”
“Then she’s lost to us. The stupid bitch.” The king looked at one of his men. “Bring the nurse back. I want to question her again.”
The man stepped into a side chamber and brought out the old woman, holding her firmly by the arm.
“Tell me again what happened.”
Galladar waited, his heart pounding.
The woman raised her head. “When I went to look in on Princess Devon, she wasn’t in her room.”
“She must have passed by you. That was the only way out of the hallway.”
“I was sleeping, your highness.”
He glared at her. “You sleep soundly.”
“I’m old, sir. Why was there no guard outside her door?”
He raised his hand and struck her across the face, almost knocking her to the floor. “I could have you killed.”
“Ay.”
The king kept his angry gaze on her. “Did she speak to you of her plans?”
The woman licked blood from her lips. “No, your highness.”
“You were always her confidant. Are you lying to me?”
“If she was going to leave the castle, she may have been afraid I would tell you.”
Galladar had heard enough.
Devon was gone, and he had the sick feeling that she was in trouble.
Devon wanted to scream, but there was no one to hear her. If she was going to get away, she must help herself. But how?
They’d been too sure of themselves to search her, so they hadn’t found the knife tucked in the waistband of her britches. But what good would it do her with her hands and feet tied?
Desperately, she yanked on the rope, trying to free her hands, but as before, the rough fibers only sawed into her wrists.
Her feet weren’t staked to the ground. Working them under her, she pushed herself up, inch by inch, until she was standing with her back to the tree. Her arms were still tied, but at least they weren’t in such an aching position. Still, she was in terrible trouble, and it was her own fault. She had thought she could go to the dragon. She hadn’t gotten far from the castle.
They were going to rape her and probably kill her. Or tell their friends where they were hiding her in the woods so more of them could enjoy her. She had to get away—before they came back.
As she moved around the tree, her heart leaped when she found a broken arrow shaft sticking out of the trunk. Maybe it had gone astray in a battle. And maybe she could use it.
The broken end was sharp, and she began to saw the rope against it, desperate to cut through the strands. But the rope was thick, and freeing herself was going to take a while.
The question was, did she have enough time?
She kept working the rope against the wood. One by one, the strands broke. Every so often, she stopped to see if she could pull the rest of them apart, but they were still too strong and she went back to sawing, ignoring the pain.
Finally, she felt the rope start to give and redoubled her efforts. She had just pulled her hands free and was moving them to work out some of the cramps when she heard voices and saw torchlight flickering through the woods.
Great Rivana, the Lubantans were coming back.
All she could do was grab for her knife and clench it in her hand before sliding back down the tree and moving her arms to their original position, making it look as though she was still tied.
They might kill her, but she was going to take at least one of them with her.
The men had brought their horses closer. The dark-haired one tied them up while the blond came toward her, jabbing the torch he carried into the ground near her.
“She claims she’s a virgin,” he called to his friend. “Which one gets her first?”
“The one who can make her scream the loudest.”
“I’ll have a go at it,” the blond one said, as he came down beside her and ripped open the front of her shirt. As he leaned down to paw at her breasts, she whipped her arm from behind the tree, bringing the knife blade down and into his back with as much force as she could manage.
He grunted in surprise and pain, gagging as she pulled the knife free and plunged it in again.
She pulled out the knife and pushed the man off of her as his friend whirled to find out what was happening.
When he saw his friend lying on the ground, he sprang toward her.
He was still above her when she brought the knife up, aiming for his throat. But he dodged aside, grabbing her arm and slamming it against the ground.
“You whore,” he snarled as he reached for her. “You’ll pay for this.”
Chapter Seven
She lunged forward, sinking her teeth into his hand, then clamping her jaw shut.
He screamed and slapped her with the other hand, and her jaw went slack.
Before he could attack again, a whirlwind rushed toward them out of the night. Or so it seemed.
But it wasn’t the wind. It was a man dressed in black who sped out of the forest so quickly that she barely saw him.
He grabbed the dark-haired attacker by his shoulder, lifted him high and dashed him against the ground with enough force to break bones. Then he did it again, leaving the man in a heap.
As the barbarian lay there gasping, her rescuer picked her up in his arms, cradling her against him.
“Galladar?” she asked in a dazed voice.
Galladar’s heart squeezed. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I was going to the dragon.”
“No!”
This was his doing. He had started talking to Devon about the old legends. She had listened with a keen ear, and she had risked everything.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she answered.
There was no point in arguing. Silently he bent to scoop up her carry bag, then held her against his chest as he strode away from the carnage, walking at a fast pace through the forest.
He could barely believe he’d been in time to save her from the rapists, could barely believe everything that had happened since the last time he’d seen her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He kept moving through the trees, putting distance between himself and the two louts. Probably they were both dead. Or would be soon. Would anyone come looking for them, or try to find out who had attacked them? And what would they think when they did? One was stabbed in the back. The other looked as though he’d fallen a great height from a tree, then climbed up and done it all over again.
He kept walking, cradling Devon’s precious body in his arms, thanking the fates over and over that she was safe.
He hadn’t admitted how much she meant to him. He couldn’t admit it now. All he could do was look for a place to lay her down safely. And as he walked, a desperate plan formed in his mind.
When a small building loomed before them, he slowed his pace.
In the moonlight he saw that it was a hut made of stripped saplings with a thatched roof, a peasant’s dwelling.
“Is anyone home?” he called out.
No one answered. And when he carried Devon inside, it looked as if whoever lived here had left in a hurry. A metal pot of porridge hung over the blackened remains of a fire, and clothing and other possessions littered the floor. Had these people made it into the castle? Or had the barbarians gotten them?
He saw Devon take in the interior.
“A serf’s cottage,” she whispered.
“They’ve fled.”
“They live poor
lives.”
“But you can take refuge here.”
When he set her on her feet, she clung to him, and he felt her tremble.
“You’re safe now.”
“With you.”
“Let me make you as comfortable as I can.”
Easing away, he collected the straw pallets on the floor, piling them together before gently laying her down.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“I won’t.” At least not now.
Closing his eyes, he gathered her close, wrapping her in his arms.
As she burrowed against him, she began to shake, then to sob.
He rocked her in his arms, speaking low, soothing words as he stroked her back and hair. His own emotions threatened to swamp him, but he kept them under tight control, knowing she needed his strength.
When she had cried herself out, he took a linen handkerchief from his pocket, and she blew her nose.
“Better?”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“You were doing well on your own.”
“The second one was trying to kill me.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said again.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I talked to you about the dragon. I didn’t think you could get out of the castle.”
“I used the underground river.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I went back, looking for you. When your room was empty, I went to your father’s council chamber.”
“Did my father punish Brinna?”
“Your father was angry.”
She gripped his arm. “Did he hurt her?”
“He slapped her.”
Devon made a sound of distress.
“But I think she convinced him you slipped past her while she was sleeping. She dared to tell him there should have been a guard outside your door.”
“She would.” Devon clenched her fists. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“No. You’re safe now.”
“How did you find me?”
“When you weren’t in the castle, I went looking for you.” He had guessed that she had gone north, and he had been right, thank the fates.
She closed her eyes and pressed against him. “They were going to rape me.”
“I know.”
“I was so scared. But I cut the ropes they used to tie me.”
“Anyone would be scared, but you kept your head.”
She nodded against his shoulder.
He needed to wipe the image of her with the barbarians from his mind. From hers, too. He tipped her head up, his mouth coming down on hers, his lips moving urgently, his senses whirling.
She opened for him, welcoming the thrust of his tongue, and this time, her own tongue slid boldly forward to play with his.
When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.
“I was frightened for you.”
“I’m fine now.”
“Thank the fates.”
“You believe in them?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
He feathered kisses along her jawline as he stroked his fingers over her face, then her neck and collarbone, savoring the contact.
There was no need to hurry. She was safe in his arms. And if Lubantans came charging toward the hut, he would give them a deadly surprise.
To his delight, her hands moved over his back, his shoulders, his hips, pulling his body more tightly against her. With a growl deep in his throat, he lowered his mouth to hers again, kissing her with savage urgency.
He slid his hands down her arms, circling her wrists with thumbs and fingers, feeling her pulse pound.
When he spoke, it was with a mixture of awe and regret.
“You were going to the dragon.”
“Yes.”
“Only a virgin can go to him,” he said in a thick voice.
Perhaps she didn’t understand the import of the words. Perhaps she was too caught up in sensations as his hands moved to her breasts, cupping them, then finding her nipples, stroking them to tight points.
One of his hands drifted down her body, stopping at the juncture of her legs, pressing against that spot where he had given her the ultimate pleasure.
When he took his hand away, she made a sound of protest.
“We both have on too much clothing,” he said, hearing the thickness of his voice as he stood up and began pulling off his tunic. He watched her face, watched her gaze sweep over his broad chest, then down to his cock as he pulled off his leggings.
It stood out from his body, almost painfully hard, as he anticipated what would come next.
When he rejoined her on the pallet, she reached to caress him there, but he permitted himself only a few moments of that pleasure.
“You’ll push me too quickly,” he murmured as he lifted her hand away before pulling her ruined shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Watching her face, he unfastened the tie at the top of her britches and slicked them down her legs.
Her breath was shallow, and her body was trembling.
“My own sweet princess.”
He gave her a long, sultry kiss then turned her and pulled her against himself, his front to her back, so that his hands could roam over her, teasing and inciting and bringing her to a peak of need.
When his finger stroked through the slick heat of her cleft, then up to the bud of her greatest sensation, she asked in a shaky voice, “That place, do you know what it’s called?”
“Your clit. It’s a magic spot. Good magic.”
“I think most people don’t know of it.”
“Their loss.”
He smiled as he kept up the maddening stroking, nipping at her neck and shoulder, pushing her toward the edge and pushing himself almost beyond endurance. His body was on fire, and he knew that he couldn’t prolong this much longer.
When he stopped, she cried out.
“What do you want?” he asked already knowing the answer. Still his heart was pounding as she spoke.
“Finish it.”
“I will.”
He rolled her to her back, his gaze locking with hers. “Open your legs for me.”
When she did as he asked, he reared over her. He was about to thrust his shaft into her, but she must have realized what he meant to do.
With a tremendous effort, she shoved against his shoulders, taking advantage of his shock and surprise.
Before he could reach for her again, she rolled away, turning to her stomach on the pallet.
“You were going to take my virginity,” she gasped.
“Yes.”
“I can’t!”
“Don’t you want me?”
“You know I do.”
“It will keep you safe from the dragon.”
He wasn’t prepared for her shock and anger.
“You…deceiver. I trusted you.”
He sat up, glaring down at her, and perhaps his words were harsher than he intended. “You are going on a fool’s errand. Look what almost happened to you.”
“That’s what you think? That I’m a fool?”
He only stared at her, wishing he had thought before he spoke.
“You have no right to stop me.”
“I think I do.”
“Why?”
He swallowed. “I care about you. And I don’t want you to be a virgin sacrifice.”
“Get away from me.”
“You want me.”
“You know I do, but I have a duty to my people.”
“You don’t owe them your…death.”
“I must go to the dragon and offer him anything he wants. But I must be a virgin.”
Devon waited with her pulse pounding. He was strong, and if he wanted to force himself on her, he could do it.
Instead, he stood up and began collecting his clothing. He lingered for a long moment, looking down at her.
When she kept her angry gaze
on him, he turned and strode out of the hut. Through the doorway, she watched him walk away, then disappear into the shadows of the forest.
He had left her unfulfilled and angry, all at the same time.
She clenched her hands into fists.
He had no right to stop her from her mission. And no right to leave her like this. Her body was still humming, but now she knew what to do about it.
Chapter Eight
Looking toward the door, she made sure that he hadn’t come back. Or did she see a flicker of movement in the darkness under the trees?
She sat up, peering toward the woods, her heart thumping. The shadow didn’t move. It was nothing, she told herself before she lay back and closed her eyes.
Almost as an act of defiance, she touched herself as he had touched her, gently squeezing her breasts, then stroking across the nipples, making her body clamor for what he had refused to give her.
It was shocking how much pleasure she could give herself, once she knew how.
Boldly, she slid one hand down her body, dipping into the slick wet place between her legs, reaching down to slide her finger into the opening he had showed her. She circled her finger, dipping in and withdrawing, teasing herself. Then she slid her finger upward to the place he had called her clit, stroking herself the way he had stroked her, feeling her tension gather. It wasn’t difficult to figure out how to do it, how to give herself the blessed release her body craved.
Afterward, she lay dragging in air.
When she was back to normal, she relaxed against the pallet, striving to banish Galladar from her mind.
She had a task that she must fulfill, and he had tried to make it impossible.
Damn him!
Now that she was thinking more clearly, she realized she was naked in a hut in the woods. Her shirt was ruined, but she felt around on the floor and found a man’s tunic. After pulling it over her head, she rolled up the sleeves.
Feeling more comfortable, she reached inside her carry bag and found The Dragon and the Maidens. As she closed her fingers on the cover, she thought of her tutor, Kencannon, who had taught her so much.
She was remembering an afternoon when he had been late for their class, and she had been sure where she would find him—in the library cataloging her father’s books.
