by C. A. Szarek
His wife had told him the former archduke and his shades would get into the castle, but he’d change that. Emeralda’s visions were rarely wrong, but Everett couldn’t allow himself to consider that.
Around him, he could hear his men screaming and dying.
It steeled him to kill Varthan himself.
His niece shouldn’t have to endure the job. It wasn’t right for one so young, let alone a lady.
He’d never had so much rage toward a person in all his turns no matter what war or battle he had been involved in. His body shook as he slammed his sword into the evil bastard’s, and Everett fought to stay upright.
His blood boiled and he snarled.
Everett would defeat him.
His skill was equal to Varthan’s, but the man wouldn’t fight fair.
They’d been lads together, trained together. He might’ve even considered them more than mere acquaintances at one time, but not for a great number of turns.
The man was pure evil.
Everett had known it even before Varthan had boldly stormed Greenwald and killed his wife’s twin and her husband—the best friend he’d ever had in his life.
Not to mention his youngest niece.
There had been rumors at court surrounding Varthan for turns.
Horrid rumors of kidnapping, murder, rape. More than half of the King’s Court suspected he’d killed all three of his wives.
Varthan would do anything for power. Bold enough to make an attempt on King Nathal’s life. Had the man not had so many ties to powerful magic, he’d have been dead a long time ago.
The way Varthan was stalking him told Everett he was being toyed with. The bastard didn’t desire to fight him.
Everett rushed him and was effortlessly blocked.
The duke cursed. “This is not a game. Come at me, you bastard.”
Varthan laughed. “We do this on my terms, Lenore, not yours.” The nonchalant tone made Everett’s ire rise even more.
“Shall I kill him, Master?” one of the shades asked, his tone almost sweet as he appeared at Varthan’s side. “I mean, I’m finished with the rest.”
“No, Athas,” Varthan said. “He’s mine.”
The shade nodded, his expression crestfallen.
Everett looked at Varthan, and then at the boy…young man actually, he was probably nineteen or a few turns older.
The shade had to be Varthan’s son.
They were wearing the same arrogant expression and had the same hair and eyes, same wide jaw, same nose. Even their stance was the same.
The lad looked like a younger version of the former archduke.
A moment later, the other two shades flanked the one at Varthan’s side. “It’s finished.” The fair-haired boy to left remarked, sounding bored.
Everett reared backward as a slow smile spread across Varthan’s lips. His knees weakened; his stomach roiled. Grief threatened to overtake him, but he couldn’t afford it. He straightened his spine and gripped his sword tighter. Varthan made no move toward him, so Everett spared a glance around the courtyard.
His personal guard had been decimated. Their bodies lay bloody and broken all over. They’d not only been his men, but his friends.
Most of them had been in his service for turns, some even as boys. He’d knighted some of them himself.
Shouting a battle cry, Everett charged Varthan again.
With the clang of metal on metal that jarred his body, he sent a silent prayer to the Blessed Spirit he could win his fight.
Everett needed to win, for his wife, his son, and his niece.
His Province, his king.
Varthan laughed as he plunged his sword into Everett’s side.
The Duke of Tarvis collapsed, panting from the white hot pain burning through him. Sweat dripped down from his brow and his whole body shook.
He couldn’t move.
Breathing was painful.
“Even if I die, you won’t win this. There will be others.” Everett clenched his jaw.
The former archduke laughed like the maniac he was. “You’ll die when I say you will. Dagonet, heal him.”
He gestured to a tall brown haired young man who looked dimly familiar to Everett.
Where had he seen the boy before?
He looked to be around his own son’s age.
Everett tried to scramble away as the shade approached him, but calm washed over him.
Everything will be all right.
What had he been doing?
His side . . . hurt.
Pressing a hand where the pain was, he shifted. His mail was ripped, torn tunic sticking through it. Both were covered in . . . blood.
What happened?
“I will not hurt you,” the young man told him, kneeling at his side.
Jolting, then wincing from the pain, everything came back to him, and Evertte gasped. “Get away from me.”
“I’m going to heal you.” The boy’s voice was low, even.
Everett felt compelled to look into his warm hazel eyes.
There was no possible way this boy was evil.
Why was he in Varthan’s service?
Healing was an unusual trait for a shade. Even healers in the cities who charged gold for their magic and services were usually of a gentle disposition.
This boy was no evil warrior.
Dagonet, as Varthan had called him, laid his hands over his wound and closed his eyes. A very hot sharp pain bit Everett and he cried out as the flesh came back together. Then the pain was gone.
The healing shade’s face was pale and he was covered in sweat. The bright glow of his hands was fading now. He trembled and put his knee to the ground to steady himself, sucking in a gulp of air.
Had the situation been different, Everett might have apologized for draining the boy’s energy.
He looked down at his side.
No sign of a wound.
The flesh was sealed, not even a scar.
The only proof of injury was his bloodied ruined chainmail and overtunic. Everett locked his eyes to the boy’s; once again feeling compelled to do so.
I’m sorry I can’t make it last, but you’ll get out of this alive, I promise you.
It took Everett a moment to discern the voice was in his head, not aloud.
The healing shade helped him to his feet, his eyes flickering with emotion he masked before he’d turned away.
Where the hell had he seen the boy before?
Emeralda was the only one who ever thought-sent to him, and it was odd, jarring, to hear a male voice in his mind. Everett had no magic, so he’d never managed to learn how to communicate mentally, despite his wife’s efforts to teach him.
“Seize him,” Varthan barked.
The other two shades snatched him painfully by each arm.
Dagonet gave him an apologetic look and punched him in the jaw.
Everett’s head tipped backward as the blackness enveloped his vision. He slipped into blackness.
Chapter Thirteen
The journey to Tarvis was a hard ride, taking only a day and a half. They’d stopped once, but just for a few hours in the middle of the night. Exhaustion threatened to overtake them all, but they were steeled to be strong for one another.
They hadn’t spoken much, every one of them overcome with the darkness Cera had been dealing with for sevenday after sevenday.
Braedon led most of the time, and when they’d stopped in a small clearing to rest, they’d taken turns on watch, Avery starting off.
Cera couldn’t sleep, so she didn’t try. The closer they got to Tarvis, the more twisted her stomach got, so she’d kept her cousin company. Barely said a word to him, but neither of them needed to talk.
Avery gave up and went to sleep for his hour, switching out with Jorrin.
Ignoring his admonition to try to close her eyes, she stayed with him, cuddling close in his arms and wishing he was holding her under dif
ferent circumstances.
Naked in her rooms at Castle Ryhan would’ve been good. Cera wouldn’t have minded the distraction, despite their location. She loved Jorrin, and wanted to give herself to him. He was the one who was concerned about propriety.
Focusing on her surroundings, Cera fought a gasp as she surveyed her cousin’s Province. They’d made it through the Tarvis Southgate unchallenged.
Varthan and his scum hadn’t been there even a fortnight, yet the place looked desolate.
On the other hand, it was evident her aunt and uncle had been able to evacuate the townspeople, so innocents wouldn’t be harmed or killed.
Jorrin sat high on Grayna, his sapphire eyes as wide as saucers as he looked around.
Braedon was next, on Roan, his expression intense. No telling what he was thinking. Planning their next move, likely. Strategy seemed to be what he was best at.
Avery, on his white gelding Valor, just looked exhausted. Complexion pale, dark circles under his eyes.
She felt like he looked. Cera couldn’t read anything in his expression, but he was probably glad to be home.
Hadrian rode the skinny nag he’d spoken to so harshly the day they’d met. As slight as his weight must be, it was a wonder the horse could support him. He was a tough old one though, and hadn’t complained once on their rough journey to Tarvis.
Winthrop was a regal sounding name for such a non-regal looking animal, but it wasn’t his fault he was old. He’d lived a long life and surely hadn’t always looked as forlorn as he did now.
The wizard had a great affection for him, so that was all that mattered.
Cera’s own Ash was much more than just her mount.
“They know we’re here,” Braedon said, drawing her attention.
Avery glanced at Jorrin’s father. “Are you sure? I don’t feel anything.”
“I think they knew from the first moment we entered the Province,” Hadrian said.
“They won’t intercept us then? I’d have thought shades would meet us at the gate if they knew,” Jorrin said.
Cera shuddered.
How could Varthan and his shades know they’d arrived?
Was that a preview to the power and magic at the former archduke’s command?
She tightened her hold on Ash’s reins.
They’d arrived; no going back now.
“They know our destination, and Varthan loves a challenge.” She straightened her back and growled.
Trikser, in response, let out a low growl of his own.
Cera calmed him mentally, but he remained bristled at her side, closer to Ash than the stallion was comfortable with. He let out a low whinny. A pat to his neck calmed him some, but he hooved the dirt.
“All right, so what now?” Avery slumped in his saddle. “Do we march right home? Or make him wait on us?”
She shrugged and looked at Braedon. Since they’d left Hadrian’s holding, she’d been constantly deferring to Jorrin’s father.
It was an adjustment, because she’d always been the one in control—even in the King’s Riders—but she needed a break from decision making.
Needed time to gather her strength to do what needed to be done. It was real now, they were here and she had to face Varthan.
She had to kill Varthan.
Cera had to be strong enough.
Braedon’s support helped in a different way than her other companions. Jorrin’s father hadn’t even paused since arriving at Hadrian’s. The problem had been presented, and he’d immediately been willing to take everything on.
She’d never be able to make it up to him.
“Is there someplace where we could regroup?” Braedon asked. He addressed her cousin, the one most familiar with the area. “If we don’t get some rest, we’ll be of no use to anyone. Plus we need some element of surprise. He may know we’re here, but he doesn’t know what our plans are.”
Avery shrugged. “Where can we? If he knows we’re here, how can we hide?”
“Perhaps a masking spell?” Hadrian said.
Braedon nodded. “That’s my plan. Have a place in mind? I have a spell that’s almost magic proof.”
Cera stifled a yawn. Some sleep and reaffirming of plans would delay things.
Perfectly acceptable at the moment.
In the morning she wouldn’t have a choice. A tremor slid down her spine, and she shifted in her saddle.
“How about that place by the lake where we used to play as children?” She met Avery’s eyes. “It’s close enough to the castle, and very old . . . very forgotten.”
“That could work.” Her cousin nodded thoughtfully.
“Let’s go then. When can we cast the cover for our trail?” Jorrin said.
“Leave it to me.” Braedon turned Roan to follow Ash and Valor. “I have a simple spell that I’ve used often.” He smiled and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he chanted:
“Let our scene remain unseen by
those whose means would bring
us harm.”
“That’s it?” Avery whispered. He looked around, as if expecting some sort of visible magical response.
“It works,” Jorrin’s father said, “So don’t knock it. Everything is as it should be. They won’t be able to see us, or what direction we go. We’re under their shields so to speak. It’s not complicated, but it’s virtually undetectable. We will have just disappeared to magical senses, even strong ones.”
Cera’s cousin threw an astonished look in Jorrin’s direction, but her love just shrugged.
She closed her eyes for a moment, memories of the lake and happy childhood times filling her mind. Her sister’s laughter was palpable.
Tears stung her eyes.
Kait is gone.
She’d never hear her carefree giggles again. Tightening her grip on Ash’s reins, she squeezed until her knuckles whitened.
I will kill Varthan.
She would kill him for all he had taken from her.
Won’t be much longer now.
“Dark thoughts again, love?” Jorrin whispered, making her jump in her saddle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s all right,” Cera said. “We’re almost there.” She glanced over his profile, relieved by his distraction. A jumble of emotions hit her, grief over her sister, flipping to love as she looked at Jorrin, both adding to her determination.
Since he’d cornered her in the barn and what was left unsaid no longer was just that, there’d been a constant ease between them. It was in their interactions, conversations, and everything else.
Except that she wanted him so badly Cera shook with it. Every time he kissed her, she melted into a puddle, only to be left unfulfilled. Beyond kisses and touches, he’d not done more, even when she’d urged him on. She wasn’t going to beg, and Jorrin promised when the time was right, they would be together. Besides, they didn’t have privacy, or time.
Her worries about a romantic relationship distracting her from her course were unfounded. She would protect what she held dear. Her family view and its importance increased by one. Well, it was more like three, because she couldn’t help but think of Hadrian and Braedon as family as well.
“Well?” Jorrin persisted.
“No dark thoughts. Just fears and plans.”
He nodded and reached for her hand. She entwined her fingers with his, and he gave a squeeze. “It’ll be all right, love.” He dropped a kiss on her hand.
“We’re here,” Avery said.
The ruins were more lost and forgotten than she remembered. She forced a breath, staving off the hopelessness the place exuded.
The remnants of the old castle were to the right; the decrepit stone wall that once offered protection no longer surrounding it. Sections were still standing, but most of it was rubble, in much worse condition than the picture in her mind from childhood.
The lake lay to the left, as large and sprawling as always. Cera remembere
d the days of playing and fun the three children had shared there. Since reaching adulthood, she’d never been able to feel that free of responsibility, but more than anything she wished she could feel safe again. When was the last time she’d felt truly secure?
Jorrin squeezed her hand again, and Cera shot him a grateful look. The few times in his arms had made her feel warm and safe. She was thankful for him in so many ways and she looked forward to more.
They dismounted at the same time and started exploring the area, mapping a perimeter before coming together at the center of what used to be the castle’s main courtyard. Only Avery was not there.
“How long can we stay here undetected?” Jorrin asked his father.
Cera studied the two men. Since they’d settled things, Jorrin had admitted he’d found it easier to speak to his father, but wasn’t completely over being in the dark regarding Braedon’s past. He’d also told her he needed to let it go for now and focus on ridding their world of Varthan.
She smiled.
What would she have done if Jorrin hadn’t come into her life?
“My spell will hold. They won’t be able to see us. Trust me. I know how to remain unseen.” Braedon’s amber eyes were serious as he regarded his son.
“So, there’s not a certain time limit?” Jorrin asked.
“I don’t think so . . .”
“You never stayed put long enough to find out, though,” Hadrian said.
“But I wouldn’t take our safety for granted, no matter what magic we have,” Cera said.
All three males nodded. Jorrin threw his arm over her shoulders and she leaned into him, needing his warmth and comfort.
Avery appeared at what used to be the doorway of the castle, but it was half gone, as was most of the front supporting wall. “We can sleep in here. This wall has crumbled, but there’s still a great deal of roof, so we should be covered.”
“Provided the ceiling doesn’t cave in on us,” Jorrin said.
Avery shook his head. “I probed it, and my magic says it’s stable.”
“I’ve stayed in worse.” Braedon shrugged.
Jorrin glanced at his father, disbelief written in his expression.
Braedon and Hadrian laughed.
