Knights of the Imperial Elite Complete Trilogy

by Beth Mikell

  Brenna shuffled along without purpose. She walked out of the great hall with Simon at her side. Pain rolled down her cheeks in tears. Numbness took her prisoner.

  “My lady, please,” Simon pleaded. “We cannot go too far. Darrius will come soon,” he coaxed gently as they neared the end of the long passage.

  She shook her head, turning into a room on the right, her eyes were wide and pain-filled. “How could my father be so hurtful? Has he really hated me all my life? To such a degree?” She walked straight through the room, which led to another dimly lit passage.

  “My lady, let us return,” he said. “Darrius will be in a fearful temper should he not find us.”

  Brenna stopped and leaned against the cool stone wall, resting her head. She closed her eyes. He was right. Darrius would worry. “Let us return, Simo—”

  “Not so fast.” Gunther appeared from behind them, exiting one of the rooms with his sword drawn, his blue eyes crazed with emotion. “We have some unfinished business.”

  Simon immediately moved in front of Brenna, shielding her body from Gunther. “Back away,” he said to Darrius’s brother.

  She peered around the knight and fear etched her face as she recalled Darrius’s words… Gunther was stupid enough to be dangerous. “Simon.”

  “My lady, stay behind me.” He reached for his weapon.

  “Keep your sword right where it is.” Gunther edged closer. The tip of his weapon was inches away from Simon’s chest. “Move into that room behind you—both of you.”

  As Simon moved toward the door, Brenna fumbled the latch. He kept his body in front of her, walking backwards through the opening. Her eyes searched the room for a weapon—anything—but the room was filled with a few trunks and plenty of cobwebs. She backed up against the far wall with Simon front of her.

  “You cannot win this,” Simon told the other man. “The king is here, along with all his knights. You will be discovered.” As he spoke, he pulled a dagger from behind his back, flipping it hilt first toward her. He knocked it against her stomach.

  Looking down at the dagger, Brenna grabbed the blade, folding it within the volumes of her gown.

  Gunther scoffed. “Do you think I really care? I owe you and this wench a lesson. You—for helping take over my keep and locking me within my own prison. And her—because the wench deserves it,” he sneered.

  “Oh God…” Brenna whispered.

  “Not while I still breathe,” Simon hissed, drawing his sword, lunging forward.

  Gunther was prepared for Simon’s attack, metal striking metal in a powerful ring. Brenna moved deeper in the corner, watching the two men swing their blades with rancorous speed. Gunther was stronger, but Simon was quicker with each lunge. The other man stepped back toward the doorway unable to keep pace.

  Sword to sword, Simon pushed Gunther up against the wall, his face inches away, swords crisscrossed between them, but Gunther was not to be deterred, pulling a hidden dagger from his belt.

  Brenna screamed, seeing the weapon. “Simon! He has a dagger!” But, it was too late. Gunther plunged the dagger into Simon’s stomach.

  The young knight stumbled backwards, dropping his sword with a metallic ring. Gunther pushed him to the ground, pulling the dagger from his victim’s stomach.

  “And the revenge is…” Gunther said, smiling. “It is a poisoned blade. You will die soon enough.” Gunther spat on Simon’s pain-twisted body.

  The young knight held his open wound as his blood seeped out. He tried to stand but fell. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his vision.

  Brenna ran to his side, laying a hand on his stomach. “Oh my God… Simon,” she breathed, turning to glare up at Gunther. “How dare you? You bastard!”

  He laughed. “Who can stop me?” He moved toward Brenna, each step full of purpose. It was almost as if his approach was filled with his perverse intentions.

  She looked back down into Simon’s eyes, shaking her head.

  “Protect… yourself… my lady,” the young knight whispered, and then he shut his eyes.

  “No, Simon,” she said, worry knotting her belly. “Stay with me, please.” She moved her hands up to cup his face, shaking him, but his eyes fluttered open and shut again.

  “So touching.” Gunther clapped his hands. “The lady looking after her soon dead knight.” He grabbed Brenna by her braid, jerking her to her feet.

  She gasped at the pain, peering up into his demonic face. His putrid breath washed over her, nausea filling her. Brenna clutched Simon’s dagger, edging it slowly out, then she thrust the blade into Gunther’s left shoulder, but she missed his heart. He stumbled back, yet it did not slow him down. He pulled the dagger out, laughing.

  “Is that all you have?” He gave her a scornful smile, throwing the blade aside. “What a disappointment. No woman of mine would ever be so incompetent,” Gunther taunted, blood tarnishing his tunic, but he seemed unaffected by the wound.

  Brenna backed away from him, but he lunged for her, pulling her up against his body. His hands ripped the Order of Blackstone from her dress, tossing it down on the floor.

  She screamed, and brought up her hands to push him off. Brenna inhaled sharply as he pinched her breasts. The more she struggled, the more he gripped tighter. Gunther’s weight was no match for her. He overpowered her attempts to block his degrading advances, his laughter thundering loudly through the small room.

  “Darrius will find you—and kill you!” Brenna cried between clenched teeth.

  Gunther threw back his head in laughter. “Oh, the anticipation.”

  ****

  At Dugan’s announcement, Darrius was on his feet in seconds. He indelicately withdrew his sword from Sir William’s dead body. He turned to his king, worry flooding hot through his veins. God, his heart felt near ready to shatter, and his control spun him into darkness.

  “Your Majesty?” the Imperial Arm asked through clenched teeth, meeting his king’s eyes.

  “Go, Darrius,” the king commanded. “Everyone search Carthmore for Lady Brenna!”

  Before the last ring of the king’s order echoed, Darrius was running with his sword ready. He was flanked by all his men in urgent pursuit. “God’s teeth, did anyone see which way they went?” He checked each door along the passageway.

  “No” was the unison return from his knights, plunging Darrius down a more savage nightmare. He checked each shadow. It had to be Gunther, he thought, as he surged through the keep.

  A light permeated the darkness as Brenna’s screams shattered the silence. “Oh my God…” Darrius whispered, driven by her cries. “Hold on, little dove. Please God… just hold on.” He sprinted toward her with his Imperial Elite right behind him.

  ****

  Gunther knocked Brenna down to the floor and she hit her head on one of the trunks. The vibration of pain split her head in fierce protest, her eyesight blurring, and her temple burst with pain. The hateful lord leered with distasteful intentions.

  “Where is your precious Darrius now?” he sneered, while unfastening his breeches.

  “Right here.”

  Before Gunther could even turn around, Darrius plunged his sword into Gunther’s back. Brenna covered her face, turning her head away.

  ****

  The Imperial Arm pulled Gunther back before he fell on top of Brenna, shoving his debauched brother hard against the opposite wall. The Imperial Elite rushed through the door, swords drawn, but Gunther was already dead before he hit the floor.

  Darrius fell to his knees beside his lady. “Brenna? Little dove?” he whispered, his touch gentle.

  She lowered her hands, her eyes searching Darrius with unshed tears looming in her green eyes. With a lavish sob, she rose up to her knees and hurled herself into his waiting arms. He caught her up into his chest, burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply. All the emotion of the last few days released as he held her against his chest, and she wept into his shoulder.

  Darrius pulled back to look into her beautifu
l face, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Shh, I am right here. Did he hurt you?” He held his breath for her answer.

  She shook her head, her breaths coming in short pants. “No, you came… if you had not… he would have…” She trailed off, closing her eyes.

  Darrius shook her gently and her eyes opened. “I will always come for you, Brenna. You are part of me and I love you,” he whispered, reaching up to caress her cheek, his eyes full of truth. “You are safe.”

  ****

  Brenna searched the deep, blue of his eyes as relief filled her. Her emotions were scattered. To her right, she saw Nyle bent over Simon, working over his wounds.

  “Simon!” She grabbed Darrius’s hand, moving closer to the wounded knight. “Oh God, Simon…” Brenna glanced at the healer. “How is he, Nyle?” His deft hands worked quickly over the fallen knight’s torn flesh. “Gunther said he used a poisoned blade.”

  Nyle’s eyes flickered up to meet hers briefly. “Aye, I could tell by his eyes. They are overly black, indicating poison. I have some medicine that will help, my lady. His wound is not too deep, so it should heal nicely. Simon will be back to his stubborn self in no time.”

  “I heard that…” the young knight croaked, his head moving slightly to confirm his consciousness.

  “Thank God.” A smile broke over her lips in relief.

  Simon’s eyes cracked open, he attempted a smile but failed. “My lady, I am happy you are… well,” he said with a slight cough.

  “Easy there. Don’t get too excited,” Nyle’s murmured, smiling.

  “Where is Darrius?” Simon asked.

  The Imperial Arm leaned forward. “I am here, Simon.”

  The young knight took in shallow breaths as if trying to gather strength to speak. “My lord, please… forgive me. I failed you.”

  Darrius laid his hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Work on getting better.” His young knight sighed deeply, falling into exhausted sleep.

  The Imperial Elite left the room, taking Simon with care and removed Gunther’s corpse. Darrius drew Brenna to her feet and into his waiting arms. He sighed, releasing his emotions.

  He pulled back looking into her eyes “Brenna, what were you thinking? How could you and Simon strut all over the countryside, showing up here right in the middle of danger? Was that not cause for worry? You promised to take care, little dove,” he chided gently. “Had I lost you…?” he trailed off, closing his eyes and bent his head to rest against her forehead.

  Brenna’s heart swelled with love and shame within the same beat. “Forgive me, my love. My only thought upon seeing the king was to find a way to help you.” Darrius pulled back, shock shimmering in his eyes, but she rushed on, “The thought of you being outnumbered and at my father’s mercy made me protective of you, Darrius. I would do so again if that meant saving you. And if it gives you any relief, Simon didn’t agree.”

  “It does not,” Darrius said dryly.

  Heat warmed her cheeks. “I seem to have a knack for being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Brenna thought of all the times she overheard conversations or witnessed private things she should not have.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Seem to? More like drawn to trouble.”

  She frowned. “Warrior?”

  Darrius shook his head. “Please, never do that again,” he pleaded with raw emotion tipping his voice. “When you are not next to me, I cannot think of anything but you. And when you are not with me, I ache deep within my soul to see you again. Yet still… it is never enough. There is no closeness that satisfies me.”

  She blew out a shaky breath, closing her eyes against the depth of his feeling. “Darrius,” she rasped, feeling how much he cared her. To be loved, so passionately, so completely, humbled her. Tears trailed down her cheeks. Never had she felt love by such a magnitude and the tranquil peace of Darrius’s love hummed through her.

  He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers, sweetly soothing, and full of his emotion. Her senses absorbed his maleness, drowning in his heat. They drank of each other’s essence mixed with sorrow and sensuality, sliding tongue over tongue with aching sweetness.

  Darrius pulled back. “I must go speak with the king.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Go to him, I will freshen up.” Brenna looked down at the state of her soiled, torn gown, grimacing.

  A gruff sound came from the doorway and both Darrius and Brenna looked up to find Angus in the doorway. “Yes? What is it, Angus?”

  The giant took one step inside the room, his face reddening. “Um, begging your pardon, my lord, my lady,” he began gruffly. “But, I found this on the floor and wanted to return it to Lady Brenna.” Angus held out his scarred, swordsman hand and on his palm rested the Order of Blackstone.

  Brenna’s hand came up to her chest, recalling how the Order had been ripped from her dress, but in the wake of everything, she had yet to retrieve it. She moved with sure steps up to the knight, his large size dwarfing hers, and she took the Order from his waiting hand.

  She smiled. “Thank you, Angus. You have returned part of my heart,” she said with sincerity and moved on her tiptoes, kissing his bearded face.

  Angus colored more, bowing stiffly, and he retreated from the room. Darrius laughed from behind her, and she turned. Confusion lit her eyes. He placed his hand around her waist and pulled her into his arms.

  Darrius chuckled. “I think that was the first time I have ever seen him speak to a woman or receive a boon. He was redder than a priest’s robe.” Stronger laughter shook his chest.

  Brenna gave him a wry look of disappointment. “Indeed, warrior! And surely he is not worth your laughter. He was very generous and kind,” she admonished.

  He sobered. “Oh, little dove… you have changed the face the Imperial Arm and his loyal Elite. We will never be the same.”

  Chapter 17

  The king restored order to Carthmore Keep. However, King Henry still had strife from others, and most recently from a group calling themselves the Gray Legion. But the monarch had the sworn fealty of Darrius of Blackstone without question. The Imperial Arm and his Elite would be just what the northern region needed for stability. A great change was brewing and life was about to change for the better.

  Darrius recounted Sir Robert of Chevington’s recent visit to Dorling Castle. The report of the Gray Legion’s outlaw behavior was disturbing. A renegade group was the last thing the king needed.

  “The first priority, Darrius,” the king said, “will be to investigate the Gray Legion. If they are a weak band of thieves, then it should be easily rectified, but if they are more than they appear, then you will certainly need to seek the source. The borderlands are a tricky lot to be sure. The last thing I need within such a volatile area is unrest. As soon as you and men are able, please begin.”

  The attention of the king and Darrius were drawn to the he sound of footsteps as Brenna entered the great hall. All traces of Sir William’s death had been removed by the king’s order. The light blue, fur trimmed gown she wore sang her beauty. Her long, sable hair fell over her shoulder to her waist in a thick braid with the Order of Blackstone winking powerfully over her chest.

  Rowan, Dugan and Thomas walked behind her after settling Simon comfortably in one of the upstairs rooms. She strode to Darrius, a smile touching her lips.

  He could hardly withstand the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless as he had done earlier. He had the patience to wait—barely. Darrius saw all evidence of her pain and suffering had been washed away and in its place a soft glow. His eyes caressed her face and everything melted away.

  The king sat before the fire and cleared his throat, chuckling under his breath. “Yes, well, shall we continue?” he asked a twinkle in his eyes.

  Brenna curtsied. “Your Majesty, forgive me.”

  “Lady Brenna,” the king began. “Please come sit with me by the fire,” he requested.

  She smiled and brushed by Darrius,
her right hand reaching out to touch his. Elegantly, she seated herself across from the king and Darrius moved to stand beside her chair.

  “Do you remember what we spoke of before coming to Carthmore, Lady Brenna?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She glanced up at Darrius. He frowned and she smiled.

  “Your first request was granted at an unfortunate end. I am sorry to say, but Carthmore Keep is now a land without a lord.”

  ****

  Brenna thought she would feel some measure of pain at the mention of her father’s death, but she did not. She endured his cruelty for too long. Justice came as the king said it would. No one expressly described how her father died, only that he had tried to kill the king and his life was put to an end. That was enough for her to know. Her father was where he needed to be—buried in her past. His cruelty was no more.

  “I also mentioned, Your Majesty,” she said. “I would not hold you in contempt for the justice you would mete out to my father. He conspired to take your life, but his death will, in time, restore the honor of Carthmore, if that is your wish.”

  The king nodded. “It has, Lady Brenna, but since you are handy with suggestions, I will ask you what to do with your family home.”

  A faint blush spread over her cheeks. “With your permission, I would like to request a marriage between my sister and Dugan the Bloodsword,” she announced, watching the king’s eyes widen in surprise. She met her warrior’s gaze and he smiled with a shake of his head.

  “I would not have thought…” the king trailed off, yet followed up with, “I like it!” The king slapped his hand down on the arm of the chair. “I approve. I will have a loyal knight at Carthmore and your sister, I assume, married for love, Lady Brenna?”

  She nodded her head. “Indeed, Your Majesty.” She glanced over at Dugan and he had gone quite still. She was not sure if he was happy or not.

  “Lord Darrius?” The king peered up at his knight.

  The Imperial Arm bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “What is your opinion of Dorling Castle? As your king and according to law, it is yours by right. Would you consider making that your permanent home?”