Frustration bloomed in Ryliann. He’d wasted time fighting useless jealousy about Mohan, a man he knew was only her friend, when he should have been telling Ilythra the things he’d longed to say since that day in the library. And then Ilythra had walked away from him because of this woman. He took hold of Martina’s arms and firmly pushed her away. “What you offer are lies. You care nothing for me. I’m a conquest. Don’t think I’m swayed by a pretty face or body. I know they hold only emptiness. You don’t compare to Ilythra any more than mud compares to water. Now go.”
Martina’s mouth opened and her face reddened. “How dare you? You don’t know what you’re passing up. The fascination you feel for her will die. Think of what I offer.”
“I don’t need to. I’d rather have one day with reality than a year with illusions that have no substance.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. She glanced toward the camp and smiled. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Where is he now?” Bredych asked.
“Bound and gagged in the commander’s tent, sir.”
Bredych smiled. The gods were surely smiling on him. He’d laid a trap for the Benai and came up with a Siobani. But not just any Siobani—one of the house of the White Feather. Arien. It had to be. His mouth salivated. The fun he could have. This was the tool he needed to drive Ewen to his knees. It might work even better than having Ilythra in his grip.
“Excellent. Tell your men they will be well rewarded.” The smile intensified. He was sure his guest was seething by now. “Has he suffered any damage?”
“No, milord. Well, he didn’t come willingly. It took ten of us to overpower him.”
“Yes, it would.” A strange sense of pride filled Bredych’s breast. The Dawn Child was, after all, Ciera’s son. He shrugged the feeling off like an overgrown skin. “Wait until the sun begins to set then bring him to me. Tell him Bredych extends an invitation to tea and for a long-delayed conversation.”
* * *
Ryliann stared up at the starlit night. He couldn’t sleep. Memories of flashing gray eyes haunted him. He knew how it sounded and would have scoffed if one of his friends had explained the feeling, but he’d felt more a man with Ilythra in his arms. He’d felt stronger, able to take on Bredych’s forces, if only to keep one woman safe. His woman.
He closed his eyes and rolled over. Only she wasn’t his, and she didn’t need his protection. He wasn’t sure she even wanted him. Then he remembered how she’d responded to his kiss. How her body had molded to his before that woman had interrupted them.
He thought he’d seen desire in those stormy irises. He stood and neared the river. Aside from the occasional night bird, the babbling stream owned the night. The moon partially hid itself behind a distant cloud and dulled the silver water. He couldn’t leave with so many things unsaid. Behind his closed lids, he pictured her face, her eyes laughing or dark with anger. His heart grew heavy with unspoken words. He turned and before he could let rational thought change his direction, made his way to Ilythra’s tent.
He hesitated at the entrance.
“Ryliann,” her voice called from within. A light flared, and Ilythra appeared backlit by the gentle glow. “What is it? What’s happened?”
He hesitated.
She reached out and pulled him in. “Tell me.”
His heart hammered in a staccato speed. He stared at her eyes, eyes he could drown in, and decided to jump.
Fear kept time with her heart. “Ryliann?” she asked again.
He turned his green-rimmed eyes to her, and suddenly she knew. Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t ready. What was between her and Ryliann was beyond her control. It was almost elemental. She had an instinctual response to be close to him. She shook her head but didn’t pull away.
He took a step closer. “One of the things you learn during war is how transitory life truly is. One step there or there could be the difference between you dying or someone else.”
Her skin vibrated at his nearness.
He swallowed and took another step closer. “When I go to my grave, I don’t want any regrets, and if I don’t do this, I will more than regret it.” He took her by the waist and swept her close to him. His lips were surprisingly gentle against hers but ignited her blood.
She reached up to his neck and buried her fingers in his hair, drawing his head even closer. He licked the seam of her mouth, and her lips parted to accept his tongue.
Reason fled as need grew in her belly.
He pulled away but held her jaw gently in one hand. “It’s not enough. I need more. Can I have more, Ilythra?”
She swallowed. She was no virgin, but she’d never felt so powerless to passion before. It would consume her if she let it.
He wore only a thin shirt, unbuttoned almost to the waist. The lantern light flickered against his skin, brushing the bronzed flesh with a golden hue. The light enunciated the contours of his muscles as his arms flexed. She pulled away but didn’t avert her hungry gaze, entranced by the sheer maleness of him. She met his eyes. Fear, desire and something softer dwelled in the green-tinted depths.
She felt her head nod but didn’t remember giving her muscles that command. She only knew for one night at least, she wanted to experience this passion, to let her guard down and just be with no thoughts of the morning. A shudder moved down her spine as he reached to unbutton her long shirt. Each button tugged against her skin as he released it. The cool air brushed her flesh before the feather-light touch of his roughened fingertips stroked against her as he continued down the long row. She didn’t take her gaze from his chest and the thin sprinkling of hair. She deserved this. A moment of pleasure before her life was forfeit. But there was more here. She had the sudden realization that she was staring into a chasm and with one step she’d fall. It was suddenly too much. This one act of the flesh was suddenly more than she was willing to give.
Her gaze found his.
The torchlight flickered in his eyes. He reached to touch her lips with his fingertips. His gaze didn’t leave hers. “Shhh,” he whispered, and the shirt fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She stood naked before him. With reverence and extreme gentleness, he traced the line of her shoulder down her arm. He stopped at a scar.
The touch seemed to skip as it moved across the deadened skin. She closed her eyes.
“You are beautiful.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. His fingers continued their path but his gaze lifted to meet hers. The irises had softened and darkened to a deep green. Something impossibly tender shown from their midst. Something she didn’t want to look at too closely but that caused an ache to open up inside of her. She stifled a sob. This was physical. They could both be dead soon. That was all it was.
He moved his exploration down to the sides of her breast to her rib cage, pausing on another scar.
“Don’t.” She reached for his hand.
“Why?”
She shrugged. Her body was scarred. Imperfect.
“They are a part of you. Each one has a story.” His voice was a caress.
“Not a very good one.” She swallowed.
“You survived, didn’t you? I’d say that was a very good story. One I’d like to hear.”
She reached for his hand. “Do not make this more than it is.”
“What is it, Ilythra?” His fingers moved down her waist to her hips. “Comfort? Passion? A moment of pleasure in a sea of pain and suffering? Is that all it is?”
“It is no more than the baser instincts. A physical attraction. A need for release.” Her eyes closed with the lies. But deep down, she knew that was all it could be. He was a prince, and she was a stone keeper.
He smiled and drew her close. The length of his erection pressed against her belly. “A release?” His lips fo
und her throat. “I do not release you.” His voice had deepened to almost a low growl. She pulled away, but he held her fast. “Call it what you will. For this moment, you are mine.”
His lips found hers, and she let the passion consume the doubts and all the questions until there were no more.
* * *
Warmth and contentment surrounded her. Ilythra stretched, and an arm tightened, pulling her into a firm chest. She opened her eyes. Ryliann. A smile bloomed on her mouth and for just a moment, she was tempted to lie in his arms and simply enjoy his warmth and the security of his presence. The feeling was foreign, and she couldn’t afford to give in to it. Until her task was completed, her life was not her own. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. Even if she survived long enough to reunite the stones, she was still a keeper. The stones belonged with the Dawn Children. Ryliann did not. She sat up, careful not to disturb him. The sun had not yet made an appearance. The camp was quiet and the tent softened by darkness.
Ryliann ran a finger down her backbone, sending shivers over her skin. “Don’t leave.” His voice was husky with sleep.
She closed her eyes. She’d been wrong. Their night hadn’t scratched the itch. It had only left her wanting more. Her body trembled at his touch and the desire was strong to just turn around and lose herself in his embrace. It wasn’t morning yet. Their time didn’t have to end. For a while longer she could pretend. But she had a feeling that every moment she spent with Ryliann meant it would make each moment without him that much harder. She took a deep breath and gathered her will. She could allow no weakness, and Ryliann was a weakness.
“We have a war to fight.” Her heart ached even as she said the words. She took a deep breath and made an effort to keep her tone even. “We can’t afford to indulge ourselves. Too much depends on us.”
She sensed Ryliann tense. Could almost trace the disappointment as it led to acceptance. The sound of rustling clothing meant he was getting dressed. She wrapped the blanket around herself and turned.
In her tent, Ryliann seemed larger than life. A giant shadow that swallowed the space until her gaze could fall only on him. He moved closer, like a cat stalking its prey. Stretching out a hand, he touched her cheek. “It’s not going to be that easy. I’ll leave because I must. But I will defeat Bredych if only to hold you again. This is not over.”
She placed a hand over his briefly. “It must be.” Her voice was only a whisper. “We don’t make sense in the real world. If there even will be a real world after this. And we both must concentrate on our tasks.”
Ryliann snaked his hand from her cheek down to her bare shoulder. His touch sent ripples of desire through her body. His eyes gleamed in the faint light. “Who says we don’t make sense? In the new world, we make the rules. And we all need something to fight for.” He placed his forehead against hers. His voice was only a whisper. “You are my something.” He dropped his hand and took a deep breath. “But you’re right. I must go.” He pulled her to him and kissed her with what felt like desperation. When he let her go, her body swayed. He smiled. “We’re not done yet. I won’t let us be.”
He smiled and exited the tent.
Ilythra stared at the cloth covering the doorway. Rising to her feet, she quickly dressed and lay back on the warm pallet. It still smelled of Ryliann. She turned and buried her nose in the blankets. She’d been on her own most of her life. She’d thought she knew what loneliness felt like, but that had been a lie. This was the first time she’d ever felt alone.
* * *
Ilythra opened her eyes but the images around her didn’t solidify like they should. She was in her tent. Disorientation crashed over her. It wasn’t her tent. It was another. Arien sat on a chair, watching her. She blinked but he wouldn’t come into focus.
“You’re sleeping,” he said.
“Dream casting? I didn’t know you could do that.”
Arien shrugged. “I couldn’t until now, but then I’d never tried to dream cast with you. The bond we share must facilitate it. Listen carefully. I don’t have much time. This is Bredych’s tent in his camp. He has issued a challenge to my father to come get me. My father must not come here. It is a trap. He has Rugians everywhere and means to make my father fight for me and lose Ealois.”
Ilythra stepped forward. Blood ran from Arien’s scalp down the side of his face. “Arien!”
He held up a hand. “I’m fine. Listen.” His voice took on the tone of command. “He has also challenged Ryliann. That is also a trap, but for you. He expects you to be unwilling to let Ryliann fight for the rebels. He expects you to be there. Don’t go. Send word to my father as quickly as you can.”
She tried to take a few steps toward Arien, but the air felt thick and her steps sluggish.
“Don’t try. He needs me alive for now. Get word to my father.”
Ilythra woke up. Sweat covered her body. Light shone through the tent’s material, but nothing seemed real. She blinked several times. Arien. Sorrow punched her stomach, and she leaned over and took several deep breaths. The panic wouldn’t recede. He would keep Arien alive but that didn’t mean undamaged. In her mind she saw Maelys tied to the chair naked and bruised. What more would he do to Arien? He hated the Dawn Children.
She stood on shaky legs. Cappi kept a few birds. She’d send one as soon as the sun rose. Anger burned away the fear. Bredych knew her too well. She had decided sometime in the night to go to Ryliann and try to convince him she needed to be by his side. Not because she feared for Ryliann’s life, though she did, but because she was a stone keeper and Bredych didn’t fight fair.
Now she’d find Bredych’s camp. She would rescue Arien or she would die trying.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ilythra walked between the beds in the healing tent. They were empty for now. Vann had recovered enough to move to his own small tent. She’d told him everything she knew about Ryliann and the war. Which wasn’t much. He’d only nodded and asked what he could do to help. She could see why he made a good second.
She stepped outside into the heat of the sun. Where was Ryliann now? Did he know about Arien? She pictured his changeable greenish-brown eyes dark with passion and shivered at the remembrance of his touch.
A group of twenty refugees had arrived the day after Ryliann left. Fifteen more stumbled into camp the next morning. Bredych wasted no time making good on his threat. People were running for their lives. One young woman told her of the wild men who’d stormed their village, killing everyone in their path. Her mother had thrown her down in the small basement to protect her and there, amidst carrots and potatoes, she’d huddled, listening to her mother’s screams. The next morning, the woman had disappeared. After searching the camp, they’d found her drowned body a distance downstream.
As much as the camp needed her, Ilythra’s mind was far away. She thought of Ryliann and the dangers he would face, Ewen and his heartache when he heard Bredych had Arien. And finally, with a mixture of rage and sorrow so intense she could breathe, she thought of Arien suffering at the hands of Bredych.
For the last three nights, she’d attempted to contact him again, with no luck. She tried not to think about what that might mean. He needs me alive for now. Arien’s words, but they failed to comfort. She waited in vain for word from Ewen. She needed to know where Bredych’s camp was located.
She did her best to train the willing refugees. They didn’t have enough swords, so she found sturdy straight sticks and made spears. With Vann’s help, she drilled them as often as possible. The warrior still did not have use of his left arm and required frequent rests, but he worked diligently to train the refugees. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done without him.
The camp was under constant guard by at least twelve sentries at all times. If a raiding party came their way, they would be well warned.
A few of the women walked by, speaking in low to
nes. They’d been quiet since the refugees began pouring in. Even Martina was reserved, doing what was asked of her with little complaint. Ilythra examined the group of women again. Where was Martina? She hadn’t seen her all morning.
She remembered that she’d planned to investigate where the noblewoman went at night. One of the many tasks left undone.
A scream echoed through the still morning air. Ilythra rushed toward the sound. Men surged into camp, swords flashing in the sun. Shock froze Ilythra in place for a heartbeat. What had happened to the sentries? Why hadn’t they been warned?
Vann rushed into the fray, yelling to organize the camp’s defenses. She reached for her swords. Women and children screamed, running from the camp toward the river. Ilythra shook her head. They’d drilled what to do in case of an attack. That wasn’t it. She didn’t blame them. Theory was so much different than reality.
The attackers multiplied as the refugees were struck down. Her heart sped and then a calm descended as two of the attackers approached. She spun low, cutting one across the thighs, and as she finished the turn, stabbed the other in the stomach. They both fell. She sidestepped as another snarled and rushed at her. More screams sounded in the distance. Children cried for their mothers.
Anger surged through Ilythra. Bredych’s forces had found them, of that she was certain. She couldn’t take her fury out on him, but she could on his men.
Her swords a blur, she cut down one then another, but still they kept coming. Slowly she fought toward Vann. If they could work together, they might be able to turn the tide. Across the clearing, Miri fought with a long stick. The stick impaled her opponent but Miri froze, the bloody silver of a sword piercing her from behind.
Tears blurred Ilythra’s eyes but she blinked them away and turned her sorrow on to the bandits before her. She drew closer to Vann as an enemy approached him on his weak side while he battled two others. She shouted out a warning, but he fell beneath his attackers. With a cry of denial, Ilythra sliced through her opponents in an attempt to aid him, but two more took their place.
Journey of the Wanderer Page 27
