Sword's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  “You look good. The same, really,” Hadrian remarked, his approval apparent.

  “As do you.”

  “No, I’m old.”

  Braedon laughed.

  The elf’s answering grin was impish.

  He looked around, his gaze settling on Jorrin. He was eager to greet his son.

  Jorrin was not far from the doorway of the cabin, looking like he wanted to run. Vanora’s beauty was all over his son, down to his tapered ears.

  Braedon’s heart raced.

  So tall.

  Tall and dark-haired like him, but he knew without looking Jorrin had his mother’s sapphire eyes.

  He needed to greet him, hug him.

  Speak to him.

  Braedon, my friend, he’s going to need some time. He heard Hadrian’s voice in his head, and the comment left his chest aching.

  He shot the elf wizard a glance. Disappointment crashed over him in waves, emotion making his magic throb.

  Jorrin radiated bitterness, and he winced.

  Braedon couldn’t blame the lad, but it didn’t lessen the pain of rejection.

  His son couldn’t understand everything, but then again, he had no idea what Jorrin knew about his past.

  All in good time.

  He tried to smile, but only succeeded in Jorrin shrinking away from him, moving back into the shadow of the doorway.

  “Thank you for coming.” The redheaded young woman spoke for the first time, taking Braedon’s attention. “I’m sorry about my bond. You weren’t hurt?”

  “No, I wasn’t hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  ****

  Cera looked the tall man over.

  Was he old enough to be Jorrin’s father?

  He didn’t look much over forty turns, if that, but his contribution to Jorrin’s looks was obvious.

  They had the same coal black hair and high cheekbones, which she had first assumed to be an elfin trait. Like Jorrin, Braedon was handsome—gorgeous actually.

  They shared the same height and broad shoulders; trim waist and muscular build, though the elder had a little more bulk.

  She almost gasped when her gaze met his.

  Instead of the sapphire eyes Jorrin had, Braedon’s were amber, and she’d never seen amber eyes on a person.

  Captivating.

  Jorrin’s father and Hadrian were speaking in Aramourian, but Cera was suddenly too worried about his elderly stallion to wonder what they were saying. “Avery, can you see to his horse? He needs tending.”

  “Yes, of course, the poor lad needs a drink.” Avery stepped forward.

  “No, no . . . I’ll do it,” Braedon protested.

  Cera shook her head. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, and my cousin doesn’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” Avery nodded and took the stallion’s reins from Braedon’s hand.

  “Don’t argue with her, you won’t win.” Hadrian winked and flashed a smile. He was teasing her, something she was still getting used to.

  Heat rushed her cheeks.

  Jorrin’s father relented, and let Avery lead the horse toward Ash, Valor and Grayna. There was a spot for him on the end of the fence, and grain and water in Hadrian’s small barn.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Jorrin said. He stepped away from the cabin door, but he didn’t come close enough to really join them.

  Cera glanced at him and bit her bottom lip, stopping herself from reaching for him.

  He hadn’t talked to her much; she’d screwed things up so badly. Pulling away from his kiss, then hurting his feelings by the woodpile. Her intended bribe of the spiced tea had failed miserably. She’d crushed him twice, when all she really wanted to do was fall into him, to savor and return his kiss, admit that she cared about him, too.

  More than cared about him?

  But since Hadrian had confirmed Braedon was on his way, Jorrin had seemed to sink further into himself.

  Did it really have to do with the advent of his father?

  How much of it was her fault?

  She had to defeat Varthan and save her family. Getting closer to Jorrin was too dangerous. Not just for her heart.

  The ex-archduke was a bastard. He had powerful magic at his disposal. His shades had the ability to retrieve information deeply blocked and buried in someone’s mind. So, if she was caught, no matter how she tried to protect him, she’d be unable to.

  Cera couldn’t risk caring for Jorrin any more than she already did, but as much as she’d hurt him by pulling away, she stabbed her own heart, too.

  She wanted him.

  To be close to him, be in his arms.

  Kissing him, touching him.

  Damn, the man could kiss. Only two times, and Cera was already addicted.

  She’d had a hard time paying attention to the scrying spell Hadrian had used to show them Braedon’s progress on the road. Normally, she would’ve been fascinated by it.

  He didn’t use a map, like traditional scrying did, but opened a small window, a bubble, showing a picture of where Braedon actually was.

  The spell was centered on the belt buckle that had belonged to Jorrin’s father, in the same way traditional scrying depended upon a personal belonging of the person that was being sought.

  Avery, of course, had been amazed and wanted to learn the skill immediately.

  The wizard had told them one only needed a flat surface to make it work, and it didn’t matter what the surface was. An easy spell, anyone could master it.

  Her cousin hadn’t wasted any time. He’d started to practice right away.

  Sighing, she let her thoughts sink back to the man she was still trying to convince herself she couldn’t have.

  Jorrin stood next to Hadrian as the elf spoke to the tall man, his shoulders slumped, not meeting his father’s eyes.

  Denying him in her own head was a failure. Thinking of him made her smile, no matter what. Her heart never behaved normally when they were in the same room, especially if he was flashing that smile of his. Her stomach rolled, and her cheeks were always hot.

  The feeling was more than physical attraction.

  But as much as that made her heart skip, she dreaded it.

  Opening herself up to him?

  Letting him see the real Cera?

  She’d already let him see her cry. That was something not even Avery had seen very often.

  Immediate family had been everything to her; she’d shut down when she’d lost them. A connection like that was too much of a risk. And letting Jorrin in was different than the love she’d had for her parents and Kait.

  She hadn’t shared her feelings with anyone.

  In many ways, she was afraid to take that step. If she voiced what she was feeling, she’d have to face it. It was easier to deal with if her lips were sealed, but hurting him made her heart ache.

  How much longer could she get away with not coming clean to him?

  He was part empath, after all, so he’d be able to pick up thoughts and emotions without prying. How much did he already know?

  Wild, unstable emotions were hard to hide, no matter how strong the walls she tried to maintain in her mind.

  “Aye, I assumed you called me for a reason.” Jorrin’s father’s voice was steady and even, his accent revealing he was a man from the far north, though it wasn’t as thick as the elf wizard’s.

  “Yes, we do have a great deal to discuss.” Cera’s words repeated the only statement Jorrin had made since his father rode into the clearing.

  She glanced at Jorrin, but he was studying his boots. Her stomach fluttered, and she clenched her fist at her side instead of reaching for his hand like she wanted to. He’d probably push her away, anyway. Her eyes smarted and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

  “Let’s go inside then,” Hadrian said, gesturing to his home.

  She nodded, meeting the elf’s eyes before looking at Jorrin’s fathe
r. He offered her a small smile, which she returned.

  Braedon’s appearance meant returning to her original plans and dark thoughts.

  Hadrian had said the half-elf’s father was her only hope.

  Cera was going to see about that.

  ****

  Jorrin kicked himself. He was acting like a spoiled child.

  His father had been at Hadrian’s cabin for two whole days. Two days of briefing, planning various strategies, approaches, and strong magic . . . but not two days of catching up on lost time and getting to know the man he’d left his childhood home to find.

  Since reaching adulthood, he’d not had ill feelings toward his father. Selfish childhood desires were in the past.

  The bitterness at Braedon’s physical appearance was a shock.

  Fear and hurt had hit him, made him want to recede into the shadows. He was that abandoned little boy all over again and afraid if he said anything to Braedon, he’d have regretted it.

  So, he’d remained silent, letting Hadrian and his father catch up happily, which had only irritated him even more.

  Cera and Avery liked his charming father, too. They’d talked, laughed and eaten, all at ease with each other, as if they had known one another forever.

  Shaking his head, he cursed himself.

  Why couldn’t he have loosened up then?

  He’d been quiet, unlike himself, staying in the corner near the fireplace, even sitting on the hearth next to the white wolf.

  Every time he’d looked at him, Trikser had just thumped his tail and met his eyes.

  Ironic.

  Jorrin might’ve been amused at another time.

  All the words he’d wanted to say to his father had dissolved on his tongue.

  Even now, he was brooding outside Hadrian’s cabin at the edge of the woods, his hand buried in Grayna’s mane. She pawed the ground and bumped his other hand with her nose until he caressed her.

  Smiling, he rested his forehead on her wider one. Jorrin suppressed the urge to throw his arms around her neck like a child. He hadn’t spent time with his horse since before he’d met up with Cera, and he missed it tremendously. The mare always calmed him.

  “When are you going to give me a chance to talk to you? I’ve waited for two days, and I don’t want to wait any longer to talk to my son.”

  Jorrin jumped. He’d not heard his father approach. “Two days? What about twenty turns?” He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder.

  “I deserve that, but then again, you don’t know the whole story. Hadrian shared with me what he told you, what your mother told you, and let’s face it, it wasn’t much.” Though Braedon spoke calmly, Jorrin sensed hurt his father wasn’t trying to hide.

  He should let it go, be grateful his father was with them, but a part of him wouldn’t let that happen. “What’s there to know? You left, and we were forced to cope without you.” Jorrin also didn’t bother to hide his emotions.

  Highly trained, highly skilled empath, so why not give him the onslaught?

  Emotions could tell his father how he was feeling much more than any words he could form.

  “But you did. You and your mother were always survivors,” Braedon said, his tone irritatingly patient. “That’s how I knew you two would be all right. And you were.” He sucked in a breath, betraying some of the calm in his voice. “Did she tell you I had to leave? They were after me. They would’ve killed both of you. The two I love, not loved, more than anything else in this world.”

  “Who is they? I’m always hearing about they, but no one can, or will, tell me about them. So how am I supposed to begin to understand why my father was forced to go away from me?” Jorrin whirled on his father, looking him in the eye for the first time since he arrived at Hadrian’s.

  “They have another time and place. We have important things to do for your lovely Lady Ryhan. I know you understand that. I hope you won’t hate me forever. I promise I’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me and why I had to leave, but not now.” Braedon paused, sighing. “I didn’t want to go, Jorrin. I love you. I love your mother, too. I never have and never will love another woman.”

  “I have nothing more to say to you then.”

  Assurances of love from the man meant nothing. Jorrin had to have information to accept any of his father’s justifications.

  Braedon closed his eyes, pain radiating from him.

  Sorrow and regret hit Jorrin’s empathic senses in waves, making his head throb.

  Damn him.

  Damn the magic he’d inherited from him, too.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Jorrin turned back to Grayna.

  Braedon retreated, the door to the cabin opening and closing with a small thud that resounded in his temples.

  He closed his eyes and buried his face against his dappled mare. “That went well.”

  “Jorrin?”

  Jorrin winced. He hadn’t heard Cera’s approach, either.

  Why won’t everyone just leave me alone?

  He’d not spoken to her since she’d answered his confession with the one word that cut him deeper than any ballad of rejection ever could have. He was as frustrated with her as he was with Braedon.

  What was he supposed to say to her?

  He was tired of her not wanting him.

  “What is it, Cera?” Jorrin whirled on her like he had his father.

  Her eyes widened and her face flushed. “I . . . I just . . . ” Cera’s voice wobbled. Then she clenched a fist, and her mouth set in a firm line. “Never mind. Talk to me when you’re not an idiot.”

  Jorrin’s heart sank.

  No. This isn’t how I want it.

  As she turned away, his hand shot forward. Touching her sent an electric charge up his arm and he stared at his fingers enclosing her slender wrist.

  Her skin was soft and he wanted to explore her more, pull her into his arms and kiss her, beg her to be with him. “Cera, I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and yanked away.

  Jorrin released her and tried to cup her face, but she turned and backed away, squeezing her eyes shut, tears shining on her cheeks.

  He was an arse.

  A total arse.

  He couldn’t stand to see her cry, yet he was here, causing her tears when she already had so much to deal with?

  “Cera, I’m sorry,” Jorrin repeated, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

  She shook her head once more, rushing away as Braedon had, slamming the cabin door.

  Great, now everyone would know what an idiot he was.

  Just what he deserved, right?

  Jorrin’s vision blurred.

  Crying?

  Are you really crying?

  As he belittled himself for not being much of a man, he took a few steps backward and leaned heavily on Grayna.

  She whinnied, but the notion didn’t give him any comfort.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Chapter Ten

  Cera sat at Hadrian’s small table, not really a part of the conversation. The past day and a half a whirlwind, she was locked in some sort of haze she couldn’t escape.

  Braedon and Hadrian were deep in discussion, a map of Tarvis laid out before them.

  They were pointing and nodding, but she couldn’t recall a word.

  She couldn’t clear her mind, couldn’t focus on the task at hand. And she needed desperately to do so. Guilt crept up from the pit of her stomach.

  A door closed, jarring her, as Avery entered the small cabin. His face was flushed, he looked flustered, but he said nothing as he took a seat at the table next to Hadrian.

  She remained silent while her cousin jumped right into the talks.

  More guilt assaulted her.

  Avery agreed to something almost immediately.

  Then three sets of eyes turned, staring.

  Had Hadrian addressed her?

 
Why hadn’t she heard him the first time?

  “Wouldn’t you agree, lass?” The wizard’s clear blue eyes accessed.

  Cera shifted in her seat and exchanged a glance with her cousin.

  Avery’s head was cocked, his eyes wide.

  “What was the question?” Her cheeks burned.

  Hadrian smiled.

  Stop looking at me like I’m five turns old.

  Braedon sat across from her, gazing with what could only be considered fatherly concern.

  She shifted in her seat again then screamed at herself to sit still.

  What is wrong with me?

  “I was trying to decide the best manner to enter the Province. Avery thinks from the Southgate, farthest from the castle. Although, indeed it may be safer, it would be the most ground to cover.” Hadrian tapped Tarvis Southgate on the map for effect, and Cera focused on it.

  The parchment looked old and fragile, which was akin to how she was feeling.

  She gulped and then wanted to cringe. “Avery thinks it’s best?”

  “As do I,” Braedon said.

  Her gaze shot to his amber eyes, and suddenly she was unable to look away. Though a different color, they were the exact same shape of Jorrin’s. Her heart raced, starting an unpleasant ache in her chest. She wanted to rub the spot, but didn’t. Clasping her hands tight on her lap, she chided herself to calm down.

  The haze started to consume her again, and she had to concentrate to clear her head enough to answer the three people who were expecting her input.

  This was her quest, after all.

  “I’ll agree with what you think is best,” she whispered.

  Sympathy and fatherly concern consumed Braedon’s expression again, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  She needed out.

  “Excuse me, I need some air.” Jumping up, Cera shoved the chair away from the table so hard it toppled. She winced as it clattered to the floor.

  Fleeing, she didn’t pause to pick it up, already sobbing before she hit the door.

  Trikser shot out the doorway behind her just in time to miss the slam she hadn’t meant to cause.

  What could she do?

  Where she could go?

  It wasn’t like she could grab Ash and Trikser and leave. She needed every person in that cabin, and they knew it, too. She even needed the person who was absent from the cabin, the person who was causing Cera’s haze.