The Witch's Reward

by Liz McCraine

  She broke down.

  Even as she heard her own sobs echoing around her, she couldn’t seem to stop. All the fear, the desperation, and the relief at still being alive poured out of her in a waterfall of tears that lasted several minutes. The captain continued to hold her, gently now. His words had no meaning, but the sound of them soothed her. Finally, when the sobs quieted and she was empty of all tears, she became very still.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but didn’t turn around. She needed a moment to collect herself before facing the man that most definitely had saved her. As she got her bearings, she noticed her would-be murderer was pinned to the rocky bank by two of the wolfhounds. One great hound had its jaws clasped around his neck, rivets of bright red blood visible through the cracks in its teeth. The other stood with its teeth in a similar fashion around the man’s right ankle. Barely a muscle moved between the three creatures.

  Certain that she had herself under control, she slowly turned to face the captain. He relaxed his hold so that she could twist around, but did not let go.

  “I’m all right.” She looked up at him, noting the mixture of worry and relief in his face. His cheeks were taught with emotional strain, his eyes so filled with concern that they had darkened to reflect the deepest, densest parts of the forest. And there was a large spot on his jaw reddening from where she had butted him with her head. She raised a hand, touching the spot gingerly with her fingertips. “Sorry about that. I thought…”

  “You thought you were still in the river, that I was Smithen.”

  She nodded.

  “I understand. I’ve been knocked unconscious before and experienced the disorientation that comes after. It’s okay.”

  One of his hands slipped from around her back to caress her cheek, and the worry that had been creasing his brow slowly faded.

  “I’ve got it together, now,” she promised.

  A small smile graced the hard planes of his face. “Good.”

  He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes closing and a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. She was surprised at the move, but not sure how to react. When he spoke again, his words were also unexpected.

  “I was so worried. For a moment I thought you were dead, and I’d never felt such guilt in all my life.”

  “Guilt?” she asked in bewilderment.

  His eyes opened, pinning hers like an arrow to its mark.

  “Yes, guilt. I believed you were in league with that murderous monster. I thought you two were working together, that he was helping you to escape. I thought that your fear of him had been staged—a farce to get me to believe you were innocent of any deception so that he could release you without arousing my suspicions. You told me that you hadn’t met him before, that you didn’t have anything to do with him, but I didn’t believe you and you almost died. I doubted because of everything I had been told about witches, that they are deceivers, evildoers and crafty. But you aren’t any of those things, and I’m sorry for believing you were.”

  He looked truly repentant—at first. But then the sweet, earnest expression on his face changed to one of accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me and inform me that he was harassing you? I would have taken care of him. This—” he gestured sharply at the river and the man lying helplessly on its banks, “—would never have happened in the first place.”

  His anger sparked her own, and she placed her hands on his chest and pushed, moving him back enough so that she could look him fully in the eyes. “You think this is my fault?”

  “If you had come to me with your complaints about Smithen, I would have taken care of him.”

  She looked disbelievingly at him. “And how was I to know that? You’re my captor, not my friend.”

  “I don’t have to be your friend to take care of the problem. He was under my authority, and I would have seen to him. I wouldn’t have let him bother you. By not coming to me, you let him continue to be a danger to you.”

  “I didn’t let him,” she mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said I didn’t let him!” she fairly shouted. “He threatened to go back and hurt my grandmother if I told anyone. I couldn’t permit that to happen.”

  “It never would have. I wouldn’t have let him. Smithen is a bully, and that’s what bullies do. They find a weakness and attack it at any angle that they can until they get what they want. You should never be afraid of going to someone for help. You most certainly shouldn’t have been afraid of coming to me. I certainly would have jumped to your aid quick enough.” He mumbled the last bit under his breath.

  There was a pause before she asked, “You would have?”

  Frustrated with what he had just admitted, he thrust a hand back through his damp hair. “I thought it would have been obvious.”

  “What?”

  He looked down, pinning her with his hazel eyes. “How much I’ve grown to like you.”

  Her breath caught, and she couldn’t respond. Was it true? She wondered if the confusion she felt showed on her face. She guessed it must have, because he spoke very carefully.

  “Larra, don’t you know what I feel for you? What I’ve felt for you since the moment I first saw you, standing scared and helpless in your grandmother’s kitchen?” His hand came up to touch her cheek.

  She shook her head, her cheek grazing against the calloused pad of his thumb that rested there. “I don’t understand,” she replied.

  “Since the moment I was given the charge to bring you to the palace, I have been mentally preparing myself for any sort of deception. And when I first saw you standing in your grandmother’s kitchen, I felt instantly attracted to you. So much so, that I thought you had cast a spell on me with your magic. Those feelings have only grown, though I have tried desperately to fight them, thinking that they weren’t real and that you couldn’t be as wonderful as you seemed. But I have been losing the battle; because not only have those feelings of attraction grown, they have turned into respect for your strength of spirit, admiration for the bravery with which you face your future, and awe at your continued ability to overcome my doubts and prove how wonderful you truly are.

  “I thought that if I could just ignore you, my feelings for you would go away. But they haven’t. They’ve only gotten stronger.”

  She could hardly believe what she was hearing. This was the dream she had never allowed herself to have. The dream of a wonderful man from one of Kiera’s fairytales that would love her, protect her and stay with her for the rest of her life. Never had she permitted herself to hope such a thing was possible. Yet here was the evidence. Here was a man who, despite his greatest efforts, had come to feel for her as she felt for him.

  His other arm slid from around her, the hand raising to her other cheek so that both of his hands framed her face. Gently, he held her still as he lowered his head to hers.

  The world stopped turning the moment his lips touched hers. The forest, the river, the cold, wet clothes—everything ceased to exist as all energy converged to meet in this one precious connection. His lips were gentle yet firm against her own, the heat of them spreading from him to her in long, brilliant waves. She felt an overflowing of joy unparalleled to anything she had ever experienced.

  The kiss turned passionate for a moment, but then slowly gentled again, lips soothing, calming, lingering, and then finally breaking the connection. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes for a moment, before lowering once more to give her one last light, lingering kiss, as if to remind her lips that they now belonged to his. He then pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and pulled slowly away, getting to his feet.

  He held out his hand and she took it, rising to her own trembling legs.

  “What happens now, Captain?” She couldn’t help but ask.

  He smiled, “Christoff.”

  “Christoff,” she repeated tenderly. “What happens now?”

  His smile disappeared. “First, we’ll take t
hat murdering pig of a man back to camp and lock him up. We should hurry; I need to check on my men. They were not good when I left.”

  “He did it on purpose,” Larra said.

  “What do you mean?”

  She enlightened him, informing him of Smithen’s confession about the berries. “You don’t have to worry, though,” she told him, “From what I’ve learned about that particular fruit, the effects only last a little while and leave as suddenly as they come.”

  He looked somewhat mollified.

  “What will you do with him?”

  “Since we have limited horses and only one prison wagon, I suppose you two will just have to switch places.”

  Hope flared. “You mean I am no longer a prisoner?”

  “I couldn’t bear to see you caged up anymore. It was painful enough before, but after everything you’ve been through, I cannot doubt your innocence and wouldn’t be able to endure your suffering any longer. But Larra, you must understand that despite my feelings for you, despite what I know about you, I have a duty to my king. I am afraid you are very much still a prisoner.”

  When he saw her hope begin to deflate, he continued, “But I will speak to King Steffan on your behalf, and inform him of the gnome’s revelation.” He touched her cheek again, giving her comfort. But even as he comforted her, she could tell that he was holding something back, and she perceived that he hadn’t told her the complete truth—that there might not be anything anyone could do to stop the execution. Because when all was said and done, it was the law of the land that would make the ultimate decision.

  “I have to obey the king at any cost to my own personal feelings. It is who I am and what I am. Do you understand?”

  She did. He would fulfill his promise to his king because he was an honorable man. But he had also made a promise to help her, and she knew he would fulfill that promise as well. “What about your men? What will they think?”

  “Right now, they’re too sick to do anything about it. Once they’re better, I will explain the situation to them. Smithen will take your place in the wagon as our prisoner, and you will ride and camp with the rest of us. Don’t worry; my men will trust my decision. And you have surprised them during this journey, as you have surprised me, with your strength. I think they respect you, as I do.”

  She was relieved and happy. Yes, she was still a prisoner, and yes she was going to the palace, but her role had changed. And she knew that with Christoff’s testimony she had a real possibility of being freed. All those dreams she’d never allowed herself to have just might come true.

  The return to camp went quickly considering the travelers included a drowning victim and an injured man. The captain asked Larra to go first along the trail, followed by one of the hounds, a defeated Smithen, the captain himself, and finally the second hound. Larra sensed Christoff’s worry for his men and his need to return as soon as possible, and she hurried as fast as she could.

  Smithen hadn’t uttered a single word, and she didn’t know if it was because of fear or because his throat had been injured by the dog’s jaws. Blood still ran, albeit slowly, from the wounds on his neck and leg, and as she pushed herself steadily through the foliage, Larra found herself facing a new dilemma.

  She had never known hatred before, never felt the red hot passion that fired the blood and made one want to injure another. After what Smithen had done to her, she began to experience it for the first time. The hatred was diluted with the ever-present fear that she’d had of the man since the beginning, but was there nonetheless. And it was strong enough that she would probably have turned around and struck him if it hadn’t been for another factor, and the one that caused her dilemma. Because although Larra wanted to hurt the monster who had tried to kill her, she wanted to heal him, too.

  The power to heal was alive within her, struggling to break free and fulfill its purpose. It didn’t matter that Smithen was a monster, a creature of blackness with evil in its soul. It didn’t matter that he had tried to kill her, had almost succeeded in killing her. The only thing that mattered to the magic was that a person was injured and needed help. And with some surprise, Larra realized that instead of turning her into an evil witch, the magic was actually helping her remain human. She had just realized that incredible fact when they arrived at the camp.

  True to what she had learned about foolsberries, the men were alert, if weak, and cleaning up the camp by the time they entered. She saw the shock on many of their faces when she walked freely into the clearing with Smithen held captive behind her. She imagined they made quite a sight, all three with their soaked clothes and Smithen with his injuries. The two dogs loped ahead of Christoff as he took his prisoner to the wagon. Without ceremony he opened the door and shoved the man in, slamming it shut after him and locking it. Returning to the fire, he informed the knights what had happened.

  “That worthless soldier has attempted to murder this girl on several occasions and would have succeeded this evening if I hadn’t reached her in time. Your illness tonight was no mistake. It was a setup to allow him time to kill the girl, and his actions put your lives in grave danger because of your weakened state. He is a threat to us all; a far greater one, it appears, than our hostage. Therefore he will remain in the cage until we arrive at the palace and he can be escorted to the dungeons where he belongs. Larra will ride in his stead and has agreed to go peaceably to meet the king.

  “If there are any among you with concerns about the new arrangement, you may speak to me about it in private. Now, let’s finish setting up this camp; there’s little light remaining.”

  “Well, well,” Larra heard Griffen murmur under his breath. He had sided up to her at the start of Christoff’s speech and now gave her soaking garments and damp hair a worried look.

  “Are you all right, my dear? You look like a drowned fish, and I daresay that is exactly what you are. I’m glad the brute failed.”

  “Thank you, Griffen.”

  “You certainly can’t walk around in that—you’ll catch a cold. I’ll bet we can find some extra garments lying around here somewhere.” He took her arm and led her to a log near the fire. “For now, rest yourself by the fire and I will return with some clothes. I have no doubt that your comfort is the captain’s highest priority.” He raised an implicating eyebrow and she blushed furiously.

  Sir Griffen chuckled at her embarrassment. “Don’t worry, my dear. I won’t tell a soul that he likes you, though it is pretty obvious, even to my old eyes. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t resist you either. You are very sweet, and he would do well to end up with someone like you.” He patted her shoulder, then left to find her clothes.

  Larra watched the embers of the fire glow, wrapped up in her own happy thoughts of the captain’s kiss. It was only a moment before Griffen returned with spare pants and a tunic.

  “These are the smallest I could find among the men. No, don’t be embarrassed to wear them, as they were gladly given. The men trust the captain’s decision. They will protect you with their lives and it’s the least they can do to lend you some clothes. Come along, I’ll take you to a place where you can change.”

  By the time darkness overcame the forest, Larra found herself warmed, dried, and stuffed with roasted hare. The clothing was big on her, but the leggings offered her far more freedom of movement than she had ever enjoyed in skirts. Just as she began to wonder where she would sleep, she felt a presence and turned to see Christoff crouching beside her.

  “I will show you where you can lie down.”

  He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet, keeping a grasp on her fingers as he walked her to the other side of the fire where two blankets were unrolled side by side.

  “You’ll sleep by me,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Do I need protection?” she teased.

  A twinkle came to his eyes. “There are all sorts of creepy things lurking in these woods. A lady as beautiful as you shouldn’t endure the darkness alone.”

 
“So you would be my protector.”

  He stopped and stared down at her, all laughter gone. “Yes,” he stated, solemnly. “I would be your protector.”

  She knew he meant it. “I’m glad.”

  She lay down on one of the pallets, pulling the wool blanket up over her body. He did the same, then turned to his side and propped himself up with his elbow, giving him the advantage of looking down at her. He was very close.

  “I don’t dare kiss you here, with all these men around. But I want to. Will you let me hold your hand, at least?”

  She smiled and reached over. The other men had bunked down already, with the exception of the night guard, who was at the far side of the clearing. Seeing that all was well, Christoff lay back and grasped her hand, holding it throughout the peaceful night.

  Chapter 16

  Lucien returned from the king’s chamber. Lissa had been absent, an unfortunate accident in the kitchen requiring her presence. Of course, it had been one of Lucien’s bats that knocked the cook into a vat of boiling oil, but why worry about details? The bat had accomplished its purpose, which was to get Lissa away from her husband.

  He was in a much better mood, he realized. The meeting with the carnies had gone well, the prince’s party would be attacked before tomorrow evening, and the king’s demise was progressing nicely.

  He set the empty tea kettle on his scarred desktop. The king had been anxious to take his tea, looking forward to the relief it would give him from his pains. He’d never know that there was an increased amount of poison in this last cup. Lucien smiled. To a stranger, he knew he would appear quite handsome, distinguished. He was considered a trustworthy man with an important job. And that was the way he liked it.