She scowled at his shirt. Did she have to think about Bible stories right now? They reminded her too much of the naively trusting girl she’d been a few months ago.
But if Leith wanted a Bible story, she couldn’t refuse to tell him one.
“Well, I guess David was a fighter.” Brandi’s nose still drooled. She swiped at it again. “He was just a shepherd when the prophet Samuel told him he’d be king someday. When his country was in trouble, he defeated a giant with only a sling and a river pebble.”
“A giant, really?” Leith’s voice held something like a laugh.
“Yep. A giant. After he defeated the giant, all the people loved him. The king got jealous and tried to kill him. David had to go on the run for a few years until the other king died and David became king. He reigned for a long time and fought a lot of battles.”
David was a warrior. The thought curled through her. David fought. He killed in battle. And he was still loved by God. Another part of the story stabbed at her. “But he wasn’t allowed to build God’s house because he had too much blood on his hands.”
“Killing always has consequences, even when you do it do defend someone else.” Leith’s sigh whooshed through his chest before she felt it on her hair. “What else does the Bible say about David?”
Chewing on her upper lip, she sorted through her memories. She could hear her father, his voice soft and rumbly as he perched on the edge of her bed telling her Bible stories. Relaxed and safe, she’d rarely stayed awake long enough to hear the ending. But she hazily remembered the line her father had used to end his stories about David. “David was a man after God’s own heart.”
She let the words filter through her, smoothing, healing. David wasn’t perfect. He had the blood of battles on his hands. He’d struggled with fear and doubt and sin, but God still called him a man after His own heart.
Was she a girl after God’s own heart? Probably not. Surely someone after God’s own heart would feel close to God all the time. Not like she had a gaping hole in her heart where her faith used to be.
She hugged Leith and sat up. “Thanks, Leith.”
He tweaked her nose and pushed himself upright. “Just returning the favor. Now let’s get back to the others before Shad sends out a search party.”
As they headed from the sparkling cavern, Brandi picked up a piece of the crystal-like rock and dropped it in her pocket.
20
Renna hid her trembling hands under the table. During the salad course, she’d been working up the courage to tell Respen her decision. All she’d managed to do was tremble harder and lose her appetite.
Could he see the red, itchiness of her eyes? She’d cried herself to sleep and woke up to more tears. She resisted the urge to rub them yet again.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t marry Respen. Glancing around the room, she took in the plush surroundings, the ornate window moldings, the door to the bedchamber. This would be her home for the rest of her life. As much as she’d begun to understand Respen, and even pity him, she didn’t love him.
She didn’t have a choice. To save the Christians of Acktar from continued persecution, she had to marry King Respen.
Respen eyed her and her full plate. “What has you so agitated? Are you still mourning that pathetic Leith Torren?” A sneer twisted his mouth and beard.
Her heart shuddered. How could just hearing his name hurt so much? But she shook her head. Her grief for Leith was something too tender to be trampled by Respen.
Respen leaned back in his chair, one arm stretched in front of him to tap on the tabletop. “Something else has you agitated. My Blade is treating you respectfully. He would not dare do anything else. It cannot be your accommodations. You have the best room in Nalgar Castle apart from mine.” His fingers halted. A smile slipped onto his face. “You have reconsidered my offer.”
As she drew in a deep breath, she prayed for courage. Now was not the time to fall into her usual cowardice. Dragging her chin up, she met Respen’s eyes. “Yes, I have. And I’ve…” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to marry you.”
“Excellent.” His lips parted into a broader smile, his teeth flashing. “I will make the arrangements at once.”
“Wait!” She wasn’t prepared to marry him right now. She needed time. “I can’t get married right away. I’ll need two months at least.”
He bolted forward in his seat, his elbows thumping on the table as he leaned toward her. “You still hold out hope. You dare to delay for a chance at rescue.”
“No! Nothing like that.” Or at least, nothing she could admit to Respen. “Leith is dead.” She had to pause and swallow. She couldn’t let herself break down now. “Who else would bother rescuing me? I know I’m stuck here.”
That was true enough. Shadrach might want to rescue her, but Lord Alistair wouldn’t allow him to do something so reckless. They had bigger concerns than her to worry about, like Respen’s army, wherever it was at the moment.
His fingers drummed against the tabletop. “Then what is the problem?”
“A girl’s wedding is special. I agreed to marry you, and I want to do this right. I don’t want to be hustled into the chapel wearing a dress I hurriedly grabbed from my wardrobe. I want a real wedding dress with a well-planned, beautiful wedding.” If she wasn’t going to marry the kind of man she’d always dreamed about, she should at least get the dream wedding. It might make it almost bearable. “Besides, you’re marrying your queen. You can’t do this in a rushed fashion either.”
His gaze sharpened. “You are correct. A rushed wedding would look like I was forcing you to marry me. We want a joyous wedding that will prove you are my bride willingly. No one must question my right to rule.”
“No, of course not.” Renna struggled to keep the note of sarcasm buried deep inside her. This wasn’t about her. It was about Respen quelling dissent to his reign.
“All right, my darling.”
Her skin crawled at the suggestive tone slithering through his voice. His darling. When they married, she’d be his wife until one of them died. How would she survive years of marriage to Respen?
Her breathing snagged in her throat. She dug her fingernails into her palms and focused on that point of pain. She’d survive. She had to.
“You will have your wedding.” Respen relaxed in his chair. “But I am not willing to wait two months. Two weeks should suffice.”
Two weeks. Her throat closed. She needed more time than that. “A month. Please.”
“Too long. The Resistance is too tiresome to be put off.”
“Then three weeks, please.” She twisted her fingers together. If she had to, she’d get onto her knees and beg. “My birthday is in three weeks. That’s when I turn 18. It’d be improper to marry me before then. Some might accuse you of marrying a child instead of an adult.”
Respen scowled at her. “Fine. Three weeks. But you will be ready.”
Would she be ready? How could she ever be ready to marry Respen? But she had no choice, not if she wanted to spare others in Acktar the same pain she’d experienced.
She lifted her chin. Leith once told her Respen exploited weakness. If she showed weakness now, Respen would exploit it for their entire marriage.
He matched her gaze, both eyebrows raised as he considered her. She didn’t look away. After a long minute, something sparked in Respen’s eyes.
Something like respect.
21
The monolithic cliff reared above them in a daunting expanse of grey rock. After three days of hard riding, they were deeper in the Sheered Rock Hills than Leith had ever ventured. He craned his neck upward and gaped at the mountain in front of them. “This is where the Resistance has been hiding?”
Shad halted his horse next to Blizzard. “Yep. Quite the sight, isn’t it? Even if Respen found its location and managed to hike his army through the miles of rough country, it’d be nearly impossible to climb the mountain and take the fortifications.”
; “I guess that explains the name Eagle Heights. I should’ve realized, with a name like that, it wasn’t some pine grove up a canyon.” Leith studied the natural fortress in front of him. What other surprises would Eagle Heights hold?
Shad eyed him. “Are you sure you don’t want to change?”
Leith glanced at his black clothing and knives. Even if he wanted to, he’d left his prairie tan clothes behind after he’d ruined them in the Waste. He tightened his grip on Blizzard’s reins. “Yes. I’m done with lies.”
He was tired of pretending to be something other than what he was. As a Blade under King Respen, he’d had to pretend he was nothing but darkness. As the peasant farmer working at Walden, he’d had to pretend he’d never been a Blade. He was done with all the pretending. When he rode into Eagle Heights, he’d be nothing more and nothing less than Leith Torren, the Blade God had rescued from darkness and made new in His grace.
If he had to face the consequences of that truth, then so be it.
“All right. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t get killed on sight.” Shad rested his hand on his sword’s hilt, as if expecting a fight.
Leith’s chest tightened. Would the Resistance allow him in? Or would they turn him away?
Nudging his horse, Shad led the way past the main escarpment to a gravel-strewn path winding between spiky pines. Leith’s back itched with the feeling that an arrow might strike him at any moment. He peeked over his shoulder at Brandi and Jamie trailing behind him, leaning low over their horses’ necks.
Blizzard surged up a steep section of the trail. Leith leaned forward in the saddle, shifting his weight onto Blizzard’s front quarters to help him power up the slope. As they topped the rise, he eased his horse next to Shad. Ahead of them, two orange-gray towers of rock guarded a slim section of the trail.
“Halt and state your business.”
Shad urged his horse two strides forward. “I’m Shadrach Alistair of Walden. I bring with me refugees seeking safety with the Resistance.”
A man stepped into view on a ledge, carrying a bow with an arrow already nocked. “If you are Lord Shadrach, why do you travel with a Blade?”
Leith held still, pinning his eyes to the arrow aimed at his chest. Above him, something rustled the upper branches of the trees. Probably other guards also pointing arrows at him. If he sneezed wrong, he’d end up dead before Shad had a chance to explain.
Shad angled his horse between Leith and the bowman on the ledge. “As the Leader was informed on my last journey here, this Blade has defected from Respen and proved an invaluable aid for the Resistance. Respen has learned of his defection, and he seeks refuge with the Resistance as my father promised he’d receive.”
The man disappeared from the ledge. When he returned, he kept the arrow nocked on the string, though it was no longer drawn taut. “Please wait while my runner confirms your claims.”
Leith made sure both of his hands rested in view on his saddlehorn. The muscles in his back cramped from remaining so still and tense, but he didn’t dare stretch out the kinks.
A man stepped beside the bowman and spoke in his ear. The bowman nodded and lowered his bow. “You’ve been cleared to enter. Watch Six and Seven, escort them into Base.”
A thick rope uncoiled and thumped to the ground a few yards away from Leith. A second rope plummeted from a tree a little way to Shad’s left. Two men slid down the ropes, leather gloves protecting their hands from rope burn. Both wore hardened leather vests and greaves. Quivers of arrows peeked over their right shoulders while their bows rested along their backs. Leith read confidence in the bounce of their strides. These men knew their own ability to handle trouble when it came their way.
One of the men waved at them. “Dismount.”
Shad called the order back to the rest of their party and swung off his horse. Leith gripped the saddlehorn and eased himself to the ground. The second of the leather-clad men not-so-subtly positioned himself near Leith, a hand on his dagger.
When everyone was dismounted and arranged in an orderly line, the guard led the way into the tight opening through the rocks. The second guard stayed near Leith.
They filed into the gap between the towering pillars of stone, walking in pairs due to the narrow pinch of the crevice. After a few turns, the crevice spilled into a broad open space on the top of the mountain. Spires of rock ringed the clearing like the battlemented walls of a castle. Fractures in the stone gaped into canyons flowing along the mountain’s sides and top. All around the clearing and into the canyons, wooden cabins provided shelter for the hundreds of people that bustled in every direction.
At the far end of the clearing, a cabin—more like a manor house constructed of logs—leaned against the largest escarpment. Their escort halted in front of it. A tall, grey-haired man stepped out the door and eyed their group. Leith resisted the urge to hide behind Blizzard.
“Welcome to Eagle Heights. I’m General Uriah Stewart.” The man’s deep voice boomed against the rocks surrounding them. He pointed at Leith and Shad. “The Leader wants to see you two.”
He led them into the large cabin’s dark entry hall, halted, and eyed Leith. “Leave your weapons here.”
Shad stepped between Leith and General Stewart. “I can vouch for him. He’s no more a threat to the Leader than I am.”
General Stewart’s hard, blank expression didn’t change. “He’s a Blade.”
“Was a Blade. He isn’t anymore.” Shad crossed his arms and widened his stance.
“It’s fine.” Leith unbuckled the knives crossing his chest and handed them to Shad. “Take care of these for me.”
Shad nodded and took them. At least if Shad had them, they weren’t going to mysteriously disappear. Leith still needed his knives to rescue Renna.
This was the price he paid for being fully truthful about who he was. To some, like General Stewart, there was no such thing as a former Blade.
If Leith somehow managed to survive the coming war, would he always face this kind of suspicion? Would he never truly be free of his past or worthy to stand before others without someone else vouching for his character?
General Stewart shifted. A small movement, but it shouted impatience.
Leith surrendered the rest of his knives to Shad. When his last boot knife had been relinquished, General Stewart spun on his heel and knocked on a door to their left.
“Come in.” A raspy voice called through the thick door.
General Stewart pushed the door open and waved Leith and Shad inside. Shad strode into the room with Leith on his heels. General Stewart followed and planted himself with his back to the door, one hand inches from his sword.
Across the long room, a lone man stood with his back to them. His broad shoulders appeared young and strong while his blond hair had been cropped short. Candles glowed on stone pedestals at the far end of the room, but most of the space remained clad in darkness.
Leith lingered in the shadows as Shad strolled into the center of the room, gripped Leith’s bundle of weapons under one arm, and bowed. “Your Highness.”
“Welcome, Lord Shadrach. What news do you bring of Acktar?” The Leader’s tenor voice rasped in his throat, as if it was painful for him to speak.
“Respen’s armies have attacked Walden. My father and a few volunteers were besieged last time we knew.” Shad’s voice remained steady. “Lady Rennelda remains a prisoner in Nalgar Castle, but Lady Brandiline was rescued and brought here.”
Shad paused and glanced at Leith. Leith tiptoed closer, a weight sinking into his stomach. He sensed something familiar about the Leader, something that spelled danger.
Shad tugged him forward. “The Blade I told you about, the one that defected to our side months ago, has been forced to flee Acktar.”
The Leader turned. A long scar sliced across his left cheek, down his neck, and disappeared into the collar of his shirt.
The weight in Leith’s stomach turned to ice. It’d been dark like this, moonlight shivering thro
ugh a paned window, the last time Leith had seen this man, then a boy.
The Leader flinched and jabbed his finger at Leith. “Arrest him.”
General Stewart marched farther into the room and drew his sword.
“No, you don’t understand.” Shad gripped the hilt of his sword and darted between Leith and the Leader. “Leith saved my father’s life and the lives of all the nobility still loyal to you. He may have been a Blade but not anymore.”
“Shad, don’t.” Leith laid a hand on Shad’s shoulder. “He has reason to arrest me. I’m the Blade who gave him that scar.”
Eyes widening, Shad gaped at him and the Leader. The Leader crossed his arms and glared, his gruesome scar shining in the candlelight.
General Stewart stalked closer, his sword pointed at Leith. A younger, more reckless guard would’ve charged Leith immediately on the Leader’s order, but the general had the experience to approach cautiously. Even though Leith was unarmed, he wouldn’t risk Leith fighting back and injuring the Leader before he could be subdued.
Leith wasn’t going to fight back.
He took one step forward and knelt in front of the Leader. Or, more accurately, Prince Keevan Eirdon, the second son of King Leon and Queen Deirdre. Leith clasped his fist above his heart in a move he’d done hundreds of times before King Respen. “My king.”
Prince Keevan’s mouth remained in a thin line, his eyes hard and burning. “How many marks do you have, Blade?”
Leith bowed his head. He might be saved by grace in Heaven, but here on earth his marks still carried consequences. He pushed his right sleeve to his shoulder, exposing the scars marching down his arm. “Thirty-seven.”
He touched a mark a little way down from his shoulder. “Killing you was my sixth mark, though it seems I was less successful than either Respen or I realized.”
And he couldn’t be more thankful. One life not on his conscience.
A cold chill prickled along the back of Leith’s neck. What would this mean for Renna? She and Brandi weren’t the last of the Eirdon line. Renna wasn’t the one the Resistance intended to rally behind.
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 11
