by Jessi Gage
Had they all been lured away from the Highlands by Ari? Or were they from different places? Was anyplace safe from him when he held that red stone?
Once she found a way to kill Bantus, she was going to set her sights on Ari. She’d string him up by his gonads and beat him until he cackled like a lunatic.
A clang echoed in the passage outside the cell. Footsteps approached. A palpable tension descended over the women. Some of them scampered to the shadows.
“I hope you’ve had a chance to rest, lovie.” Bantus and Reddick appeared at the cell door. “Because it’s time to play.”
She reached for Seona’s hand, coveting her sister’s support, but Seona was no longer by her side. Anya peered around and found her hunched and shivering in a corner.
She hated her sister in that moment. For being a coward. At the same time, she ached for her. This should not be. None of this should be.
She squared her shoulders and faced Reddick as he unlocked the cell. When Bantus grinned and motioned her forward, she limped to him and looked him in the eye, craning her neck to do so.
He hummed with approval. “A brave one, Reddick. How long do you think she’ll have the courage to meet my eyes?”
“Not long, sire.”
She would not show her fear. Riggs had awoken when Reddick had carried her from the dungeon earlier. She would be brave for her pledgemate. Lord knew he’d suffered enough this night. She would do naught to add to his suffering.
And if the Lord saw fit to rescue them soon, she’d welcome it with open arms.
* * * *
“Wake up, Maranner.” Slap.
The wretched guard, Myre, tried to wake Riggs, but he was already awake. If one could call the fuzzy consciousness he clung to wakefulness.
He ignored the guard. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of opening his eyes, Riggs rotated his wrists in tiny increments this way and that, exploring the range of movement of his bonds. He flexed his arms, lifting himself so his weight left his feet and was completely sustained by the beam overhead. The soles of his boots remained touching the floor, but only barely. He did all this subtly, so as not to alert Myre to the fact he was working out whether he might get free.
The moment he’d scented his lifemate and opened his eyes to find her present in Bantus’s dungeon, he’d called to Danu from his moonsoul. He’d paid the goddess little heed through his life. Had never worshipped or prayed to her as his father had. Why should he? If she existed at all, she’d abandoned wolfkind, a people of her own creation, to a slow but sure death.
He’d called to her moments ago. He’d called to her in desperation. He’d called to her in faith. She would answer. She must, because it was Anya at risk. Anya.
Danu would help, but he had to do his part. So he tested his bonds, searched for any little bit of give he might exploit. Where was the weak point? Where must he focus his strength so he could save Anya from a horrific fate?
Myre slapped him again.
He fluttered his eyelids to get the guard to leave him alone. It worked.
Myre moved away, muttering.
Sounds outside the dungeon punched through his concentration. He recognized the baritone rumble of Bantus’s voice. And the lilting cadence of Anya’s steps.
She was walking to what she must know would be certain torture. And with no hesitation in her gait. Brave lady. But then he’d known that. He’d witnessed her bravery many times over.
He wouldn’t fail her.
Danu wouldn’t fail her. Anya was not to be the salvation of wolfkind, but she was his salvation. She was his life.
He didn’t open his eyes when he heard her enter the dungeon with Bantus and another man who was likely Reddick since the footsteps weren’t heavy enough to belong to Bull. He stilled his explorations, rested. He would need all his strength for what he must do. And some of the goddess’s too, if she would lend it.
He breathed deep. Waiting. Praying.
“Good. You have the fire nice and hot.” Bantus. “Myre, heat the brand.”
Those words should send him into a panic. They didn’t.
Breathe. Rest. Wait.
“Reddick, you know what to do.” Bantus spoke to his guard, but he was standing in front of Riggs, facing him with breath smelling of wine.
He fluttered his eyes again, pretending to come to.
“Wakie, wakie. Time for a treat, pet. Do you enjoy the symphony of a woman’s screams? I do.” Behind him were sounds of movement. Then a struggle.
“Get your bloody paws off me!” Anya. Furious.
His heart beat faster. They were manhandling her onto the bed Myre had just prepared with fresh linens.
Wait. Wait. Not yet.
“Clean her cheek. Yeah, the smooth one. Don’t want my mark lost amidst those scars.”
Anya’s protests became muffled. They’d either gagged her or someone had a hand over her mouth. She was frightened. He could tell from her rising pitch.
Wait. Wait. Breathe.
Clinking by the fire. Bantus was pulling the iron from the flames.
Riggs slivered his eyes open. The Larnians in the room all had their eyes on the glowing paw-print-shaped iron in their king’s gloved hands.
Anya had her eyes on Riggs.
He opened one eye to let her know he was with her, then closed it again to concentrate. Before darkness wiped out that glimpse of her, her gaze had darted to the dagger strapped to Reddick’s calf. The man was sitting on the bed with her between his legs. With one hand he held her wrists behind her back. With the other he clasped her jaw, forcing her head to his shoulder so her smooth cheek was presented for branding. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths beneath the peach silk dressing gown she must have been given at Glendall.
Bantus turned from the fire and began moving toward the bed.
Now.
He took a deep breath and flexed his feet, tipping his toes up, using the manacles around his ankles as an anchor. He tensed every muscle in his legs, abdomen and back. Lifting his chin to align his neck for maximum power, he poured every ounce of strength he’d ever possessed into pulling down on the chain.
When the eyehook had been screwed into the beam high overhead, it had gone in slightly off-center. During his testing, he’d found the slightest bit of wiggle and had worked it to make a bigger defect. He exploited that defect in full now.
No longer trying to remain inconspicuous, he roared with the strain. When his muscles and joints protested, he demanded even more of them.
Bit by bit the screw eased from the beam until with a mighty snap, the eyehook broke free.
The men all wheeled on him with wide eyes.
He pinned Bantus with his gaze. The man stood at the foot of the bed, iron in hands, inches from searing his mark forever into Anya’s eggshell smooth skin.
Like with the wolves, time seemed to slow down. Splinters rained down from the beam at a fraction of their expected speed. The chain began to fall, chinks collapsing into each other. With it came the heavy eyehook. It would all land in a pile on his head if he didn’t do something.
Whipping his arms in a circle over his head, he threw the chain like a whip, directing it toward Bantus.
Danu, let this work.
There! The chain hit its mark, collaring the vile king.
Without the chain to keep him upright, he fell forward. Using the momentum of the fall, he twisted his shoulders midair and yanked the chain. It tightened around Bantus’s throat. A final jerk of the chain as he hit the floor and it tightened enough that Bantus dropped the iron to clutch at the links.
It wasn’t sufficient to choke him, but it made a nice distraction. There was one at the ready who’d been waiting for such a distraction. Anya.
She had not been idle when the men had turned to gape at him. She had been stealthily slipping Reddick’s dagger from its sheath.
With a growl as fierce as any she-wolf, she broke free of Reddick’s hold and lunged at Bantus’s back. She clung on
like a monkey with one arm locked around his throat. In a single swift move, she brought her other arm up and sliced across his neck, just under his jaw.
Blood poured over the chain and the peach silk sheathing her arm. It ran like a river down the king’s chest. The wound gaped like a gruesome smile. Larna’s king would bleed to death in moments.
Anya had dealt the fatal blow.
Pride and wonder rushed through him, but freedom was not yet theirs. Reddick was still a threat. Not Myre. He huddled in a corner, whimpering. But Reddick’s orange eyes darkened. When Bantus began falling forward, Reddick plucked Anya from his back. He held her by her throat and shook her.
Rage shot through Riggs’s limbs, but lying on the floor with his wrists still bound and his ankles chained to the wall, he was next to worthless.
Wait. The hot iron Bantus had dropped. Riggs twisted to find it lying beside the fallen king. He grabbed it, ignoring the heat of the handle, and pressed the business end into Reddick’s calf.
He howled and released Anya, who fell to her hands and knees and immediately crawled to cup Riggs’s face in her hands.
“Riggs! Och, Riggs!” Her reddened face appeared over him. So lovely, even though she’d nearly been choked to death. Her touch was like quenching water to the fire of his pain. But there was no time to savor her closeness.
Reddick had limped to a wall full of items Bantus had referred to as “toys” and pulled down a flogger tipped with nails and shards of glass. He had his gaze fixed on Anya.
“This is for killing my king!” he cried as he advanced. “You think you’re scarred now. Wait ’til I’m done with you!”
Red light flooded the dungeon. One of Ari’s magic doors opened, but it wasn’t Ari who charged through, sword aloft. It was Magnus. And behind him was a horde of crimson-kilted soldiers.
* * * *
Anya was still catching her breath from Reddick’s manhandling when he came at her wielding a flogger. She pushed away from Riggs to draw Reddick away. She could take a flogging, but Riggs had been abused more than enough tonight. Och, if the bruises and burn marks covering his torso weren’t bad enough, the gaping hole where his eyetooth used to be left her nigh speechless. Her poor wolf-man. Her poor pledgemate.
If she ever made it back to Chroina, she’d gut Ari personally for his treachery. Neil deserved just punishment, too. But first she had to survive Reddick and snatch those keys from his belt so she could free Riggs and the other women.
Before she could figure out how she might accomplish such impossible feats, the dungeon filled with a fearsome roar. She whipped around to see what had made the sound and came face to face with King Magnus, surrounded by a halo of red magic.
His eyes blazed with golden fire as they quickly took in the dungeon. She watched him catalog her presence, the blood on her sleeve, Riggs on the floor, Bantus dead, Reddick snarling and charging her.
She threw herself to the floor, meaning to lay herself over Riggs to protect him from the fighting that was about to take place, but her wolf-man was quicker than she was.
He scooped her ’neath his battered body and made an impenetrable shield around her. The scents of blood and sweat surrounded her, but peeking through were the scents of pine and loyal dog and somat else that spoke to her on a visceral level. ’Twas some woodsy nuance to his musk that carried a hint of her. A sense of completion swelled in her breast.
He’s more than a pledgemate, and you’ve kent it all along.
’Twas a knowledge so deep, it seemed she’d kent it from birth. Lifemate.
The sounds of running feet multiplied. There must have been dozens of soldiers spilling from the red oval. Most exited the dungeon, but several stayed to engage Reddick and Myre. Would the Maranner force be enough to overcome the one Bantus had been gathering in the great hall?
A body fell. Then another. Bantus’s two guards.
Riggs pushed himself up with a groan. “Anya? Are you all right?” He feathered his fingers over her head and shoulders. She rolled to face him. His hands found her face, awkwardly, for his bonds forced his wrists into an X. “You are well?”
“Aye, love. Aye. You?”
He nodded. His mouth opened in a grisly smile. He tongued the spot where his tooth had been. “I’ve been better, but I’ll heal.” His brow furrowed. “You can understand me?”
She sat up and opened her left hand. The fingers ached. She’d had a death grip on the bloody gemstone the whole time. “Magnus returned it.”
Riggs glanced over her shoulder. At Magnus. She kent ’twas him without turning by the approving twinkle in Riggs’s eye. Returning his attention to her, he raised his arms with a wince and lowered them again with her inside the circle of safety and brawn. Och, she’d never forget the sight of those arms flexing and bulging until the veins stood out and a bloody beam splintered to set him free.
She clung to him and buried her face in his neck. Tears of relief slipped from her eyes. “I almost lost you,” she sobbed. “Again! Don’t you e’er give me reason to fear like that again.”
“I vow it.” He rained kisses over her head and face.
She was tempted to sacrifice her wits to this sweet relief, but this battle was not over. She turned in Riggs’s arms to find Magnus staring down at them with nostrils flared.
“Och, doona stand there like a jealous cuckold. I heard that bloody tyrant say he would have two-hundred five and twenty men in the great hall and that bloody traitor, Ari, was going to bring them through to Glendall within the hour.”
“I got a confession from him. My men are on their way to the great hall now. My guess is once they see Bantus’s head, they’ll desist.” He nodded to an aged but fit soldier, who raised an axe and brought it down to sever Bantus’s head from his body.
She swallowed, sickened, as the man lifted the head and carried it from the dungeon.
Magnus crouched to face her on a level. “I must see to the great hall, but first I would know this: did Bantus hurt you?”
“Nay. He tried, but thanks to Riggs, I slit his throat before he could do aught.”
“You slit his throat?”
She raised an eyebrow. How dare he doubt her?
He grinned and palmed her cheek. “Brave lady.”
Riggs’s arms tightened around her.
She remembered her sister. “Before you go, you must ken there are a dozen women down the way in a cell. Humans, like me. And if I’m no’ mistaken, your promised one is in there. I tried to tell you the woman in your portrait isna me. Now I ken for cert. ’Tis my sister. Her name is Seona, and she’s been in this horrid place for more than a year.” Her voice shook.
Riggs breathed a curse in her ear and rubbed his cheek on hers.
She drew strength from her lifemate. “Go, tend to what a conquering king must. But ken you this, those women arena well and will need much healing. Of body and of mind. Seona’s in no state to become anyone’s queen or bedmate or aught else. Do you understand?” Her voice had become steel, and she made no apology for lecturing a king.
Magnus’s jaw went rigid. Even through his thick beard, she saw the muscles work. He said naught, but rose slowly and strode from the dungeon with a curt nod to one of his guards.
The guard blocked the door to the dungeon, protecting them, while another swooped in with the keys from Reddick’s belt to unlock Riggs’s manacles. A third got the keys from Myre’s body and ran after Magnus, mayhap to free the women.
“Your sister,” Riggs said, cupping her face in both hands. “You found her?” Deep cuts in his wrists bled freely. He’d suffered so much, yet his concern was for her.
“Aye,” she answered. But she feared the Seona she’d found was much different than the one she’d lost.
Fate had returned one thing to her that was as it should be: Riggs. As ever, he was steadfast, loyal, and bursting with love for her. She pressed her lips to his. “I’m sorry your uncle betrayed you.”
“It’s not me he betrayed, but Magnus. He’ll ge
t what’s coming to him.”
“Aye.” She’d see to it, just as she’d see to it Ari suffered for what had happened to Riggs. “Now, where’s that tooth? Your body seems to heal everything else, why not that too?”
Chapter 25
Anya rinsed Riggs’s tooth in a pot of heated water by the fire and slipped it back into its socket. It went in surprisingly easy, but it wiggled precariously.
“You’ll need to keep your tongue pressed to it, I suspect,” she said.
One of the guards standing watch over her and Riggs crouched down and inspected the tooth. “Seen a man lose a molar once and put it back in like that. It healed, but he had to bite down on a wad of linen for a week. Here.” He pulled a bandage from a sporran-like pouch he wore next to his scabbard. After cutting a smaller strip, he rolled it and handed it to Riggs. “Clamp down on that and try not to move it.”
Riggs did so and nodded his thanks.
The guard helped Riggs stand then guided him to the bed. He inspected Riggs’s wrists. “Name’s Maedoc.” Broad-shouldered with gray in his beard, he had shrewd eyes that didn’t miss much and a kind manner about him. Jerking his thumb at the other two, he introduced them as well. Anya recognized them. Four guards remained always with Magnus, but she’d learned there were more than four who shared this duty. They did it in shifts. These must be his most trusted guards, and he’d left three of them with her and Riggs. ’Twas a great honor. These men were the best of the best, the most loyal of the loyal. Some of their fellows had been guarding her door when she’d been with Travis and Daly as well. Had any of them fallen? She started to ask, but Riggs spoke up.
“Tend to Anya first,” he said past the wad ’tween his teeth.
