“You mean we have just wasted eight months chasing a shadow plot?”
“The king has ordered the army home,” Darius reminded the boy. “I only hope there is no surprise for us when we get there.”
“Do you mean Micrey was only a decoy?” Timothy asked.
“Or the mastermind of a larger plot.”
“So, that is why he visited all those other Lords before arriving at his fortress here,” the boy said. “He was trying to raise support. But support for what?”
“That is what I am concerned about,” Darius said as he took a seat beside the fire pit. “I only hope Micrey didn’t get a warm reception with his fellow lords. If he did, we might have more than we can deal with when we return to Kiylin. The Queen was in no condition to subdue a rebellion when we left.”
The boy nodded his agreement. They fell into silence for a while and then Timothy asked pointedly, “So why did you pick her? And why marry her? You could have enjoyed giving her a tumble without the responsibility afterwards.”
Righteous indignation rose in a storm. Before he quite knew what he was doing, Darius had risen and struck the boy full across the mouth. “I cannot believe you said that. You have been hanging around the other boys too much.” Timothy watched him warily and Darius did not blame him. He had never punished the boy with his hand before and he felt awful, but he could not back down. The boy needed to know that Brice was now part of their group and a part to be respected. “I never want to hear it again, especially not in her presence. Do you understand?”
Mutely the boy nodded. Then he asked, “So why did you marry her?”
After a moment, Darius admitted something he had been avoiding since he had first set eyes on her crouched figure behind the tapestry. “Instinct,” he sighed tiredly. “Now I am going to try to get a few hours rest. I suggest you finish as silently as you can while I sleep. Wake me at the first horn blast.” The boy nodded. “Thanks, Timothy.” He threw the youngster an affectionate smile before reentering the tent.
A loud blast on what sounded like a battle horn brought Brice's eyes wide open. She probably would have jumped from the bed too, but a heavy arm was wrapped around her waist. As her other senses awoke, she noticed the heavy blanket over her and a warm body heating her from behind. Blinking to clear her eyes, she slowly focused them on the dirty canvas wall only inches from her face.
“Darius,” a young man's voice called and someone jostled the cot. “Time to move.” The warmth at her back moved with a groan and then lifted away. Shivering against the sudden draft, Brice carefully rolled over. She encountered a wide, cloth covered back.
“I’m up, Timothy,” the man on the edge of the bed growled. “Go fetch the horses.” A brief flash of early morning light blinded Brice for a moment as Timothy left the tent to obey. When her vision cleared, she found a pair of gray eyes watching her from above. “I hope you are a little refreshed from last night.” The voice was laced with a hint of accent again and the eyes were softer than before.
“A little,” she managed as she tried not to blush.
“We have a long day of travel ahead,” he said and pushed off the cot and to his feet.
“Where are we going?” Brice asked as she carefully followed him off the cot. She hated the feeling of him towering over her. She turned back to fold the cover only to find it was his dark brown cloak from the night before.
“To Kiylin, the king's main residence,” he answered. Brice had heard of the fortress. She turned to find him pulling on his boots. His eyes were on her feet. “Later today I will ask the supply master to see if we can find you some boots.” Rising, he crossed to pick up a long cloak from the other chair. “It appears Timothy has already found a temporary cloak for you.” The gray fabric looked worn, but still useful. Darius crossed to her. Removing the dark brown one from her hands, he draped the gray around her shoulders. “It looks like an old one of mine.”
Finding herself swamped by gray fabric, Brice felt a bit overwhelmed. Long fingers firmly fastened the clasp and raised the hood to almost hide her face from sight. “There,” the warrior before her declared, “You can hide from everything in there.” Lifting the edge of the hood and peeking from beneath it, Brice was surprised at the laughter in the man's eyes. It promptly disappeared though. Another loud blast vibrated though the camp. “Come,” he instructed and strode to the entrance of the tent. Gathering the excess material like a highborn lady gathers her skirt, Brice hurried to obey.
The morning passed smoothly once Brice grew accustomed to the horse's lolling gait. The company traveled at the speed of the foot soldiers and Darius stayed near the king. Before mounting, he had donned many pieces of gear including a large sword. Brice initially found sharing the saddle with a fully armed mercenary awkward, but eventually she became comfortable with his constant arm around her waist and strong presence at her back.
In the late morning, the company stopped for a quick meal. Before they ate, Darius decided to bring her to see the supply master. Weaving back through the large wagons that had lumbered along behind them, Darius brought her directly up to the largest one. “Master Kline, I have a challenge for you,” he said to the elderly man sitting in the shade of the wagon.
“So you say, my boy,” the man answered before looking up from his harness mending. “I have been outfitting soldiers, archers, and all manner of warriors for many years. What kind of challenge could you offer me?”
“A rare one I am sure.” Darius waved Brice forward. “This woman needs clothing and foot gear.”
The man's eyes widened and carefully looked her up and down. “Take off the cloak, child,” he instructed, “And help me up, boy.” Flapping a hand at Darius, he readied himself to rise. Dutifully, Darius took the older man's flailing limb and pulled him to his feet. The man immediately began to circle Brice and mutter to himself. Darius took her cloak and stepped back. Folding his arms across his chest, he stood there, watchfully waiting.
“So where did he find you?” Master Kline asked before tugging at Brice’s dirt-covered skirt. Only the morning before it had been one of her best, but after the tumble in the dirt, a night's sleep, and so much time on the horse, the material was never going to be the same.
“Well, child,” the older man prompted her as he frowned on her dirty bare feet. “Don't tell me he found you in a palace.” He winked at her and then went back to frowning. “Obviously he does not know how to treat a lady.” Clicking his tongue and wagging his head, he turned to Darius. “You have much to learn, boy.”
“Just dress her, Kline, and stop lecturing me.” Darius did not sound pleased with the Master Kline. The older man, however, did not seem bothered by the prospect of a large foreign mercenary being angry with him.
“The cloak just needs hemming, which you can do yourself, right child?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Brice nodded.
“Good.” Standing back, the man began to stroke his scruffy chin. “All the boots I have will be too big, but how do some leather shoes sound?” Master Kline looked over at the soldier.
Darius nodded. “She will be spending most of her time on my horse, not her feet. That should suit.”
“I have a rather worn tunic and surcoat somewhere that will hold up better than this flimsy stuff.” The man lifted some of Brice's skirt. The dress had never been fancy, but it was not made for travel either.
“How soon?” Darius asked.
“This evening,” Kline answered. “I will also provide a needle, thread and scissors for her cloak. Now move on, you two, I have work to do.” Turning, he headed back toward his wagon.
“Come.” Darius took her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I am sure you are hungry.”
After making sure the clasp was secure, Darius led her back toward their earlier position. His large straight back was easy to follow, but she found it difficult to keep up with his stride. His legs were so much longer than hers. As they passed other companies gathered around the meal w
agons, Brice's mouth began to water. Yes, she was hungry.
They stopped in the late afternoon near a river, but neither one of them dismounted. Brice longed to stretch her numb legs and aching back, but Darius had other ideas. He guided their mount straight into the river. Brice tensed as the animal’s head lowered to drink. The muscles in her back clenched and she carefully peered down past her feet. Swift-flowing water coursed between the horse’s legs. The animal was standing knee high in the river.
“We are just stopping for the horses to drink,” Darius said from behind her. The horse slurped loudly to emphasize the obvious. A heavy silence fell between them. Brice looked around. Other horses were similarly occupied, but none were as far from shore as them.
Darius sighed. “I was going to wait until tonight to do this, but since we must wait for the horses….” He shifted his weight and used the arm that had been around her waist to reach for something. Brice panicked. Curling her fingers around the front edge of the saddle, she prayed desperately the beast would not move. All it would take was a small nudge and she would fall right into the river. “There it is,” her companion muttered. “Hold still.”
Rough leather covered fingers encircled the left side of her neck. Brice shivered and forgot about her fear of falling. What is he doing? Her throat closed and she considered screaming. Who would stop him? No one would. He could do as he willed with her. She was his property. A glint in her peripheral vision was the only warning she was given before cold metal touched her throat.
“Hold still,” Darius instructed again. Tears filled Brice’s eyes. He is going to kill me, she thought as the metal moved against her skin. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed the tears not to fall. I will not die a coward. Courage. Her heart raced as his grip on her slave collar tightened. Then suddenly, with a sharp jerk, it was gone; her collar was gone.
No sooner had she realized what he had just done than his hand was back at her throat. Tilting her chin up, he bent his head to examine her neck.
“Good,” he said mildly. He sheathed his blade and then asked, “Do you want to keep it?” He extended his left hand so she could see the strip of leather that lay there. It was strange looking, lying there limp and broken. Brice never thought she would see it in someone’s hand. Shaking, she turned her face away. “I don’t blame you,” he said. Flinging it into the water, Darius gathered the reins and urged the horse to raise his head.
Tears coursed down Brice’s face. They were not tears of joy. I don’t understand. She had never felt so confused and afraid in her life. This man does not make sense and it scares me.
“We will reach Kiylin in a few days,” Darius told Brice later that afternoon. The horse beneath them whinnied and shook his head. Brice did not respond. “Timothy and I live in a house in the servants’ village.” The girl shifted sleepily. She had not had much rest last night and he had no idea how well she had been able to sleep the nights before the siege broke. Sliding the arm around her waist higher, he tried to encourage her to lean against him. She resisted. He loosened his grip. “It is not much, but Timothy and I are comfortable there.”
“Why don't you live in the castle?” She asked.
“The servants of the castle know more about what is really going on than the inhabitants.” He explained. “I also like to get away from the intrigue and politics when I am off duty.”
“How often is that?”
He smiled. She was interested. “I am on scheduled duty almost daily for four or more hours at a time. The king's needs vary and he sends for me when he needs me. I travel when the king travels, unless he wishes for me to be protecting someone or something else.”
“Like the queen?”
He nodded. “Like the queen or one of the princes.”
They rode in silence for a while. Brice's head kept dropping forward and the curls escaping her braid would fall into her face. Jerking herself awake, she would suddenly straighten and push them out of her face again. After a particularly sudden movement from Brice, their horse snorted a complaint and sped up briefly.
“You really should lean back against me, Brice,” Darius pointed out. “Next time, he might bolt. I promise I will not let you slip.”
At first, Brice continued to sit poker straight and face forward as though she had not heard him. Then, slowly her shoulders lowered and reluctantly she responded, “Very well.”
Allowing his arm to pull her closer, she leaned back against him. Bringing his shoulders forward and tightening his grip, Darius fitted her smaller frame against his. Drawing his cloak about them, he almost hid her from view. “Sleep easy,” he murmured, although he suspected from the relaxed way she sank against him, she was already almost asleep.
What have I gotten myself into? He wondered as he caught the King's amused glance their way.
“We can send out messengers,” Arcan, King Jenran’s chief advisor, announced his solution to the group. They were gathered in King Jenran’s tent after a long day of travel. Darius stood at attention at his post to Jenran’s left. To the king’s right stood Darius’ friend, Ewian. Gathered around them were the highest-ranking men in their army. General Trinight frowned at Arcan.
“Even if we sent men yesterday, the Lords would not have sufficient time to send help for our arrival at Kiylin.” The General gestured toward Trenar, the chief of the King’s intelligence and declared, “I vote we use those men to scout out ahead. I would like to know what we are walking into. That way we can strategize our assault, if necessary. It will increase our chances of success. If Kiylin is indeed under rebel control, we will need the best strategy we can develop.”
“First, we need to know how widespread this rebellion is.” Lord Tiren pointed out as he rose to his feet. “We do not know if Micrey received support or rejection from those stops he made on his way from Kiylin to his vargar. If he received support, Kiylin is the least of our worries, for we will have to find an ally and gather forces for defense of the King. If Micrey received a cool reception, we can focus our efforts on Kiylin and plan accordingly.”
“So,” Arcan said as he looked over at the General. “We are back to sending messengers.”
“No.” Trenar’s voice cut across Arcan’s with a tone of authority. “We know that Micrey received very cold greetings from all but one of the lords he sought.” Then, he fell silent.
“And…” Arcan prompted.
“The king has already been informed and the traitor will be dealt with.” Trenar glanced at the King and received a nod in return. The room fell silent. “As to the current situation, I would advise that we send a scout ahead to Kiylin to assess what awaits us there. Meanwhile, the army should follow at the fastest pace possible. My quickest man should be able to make the trip there and back in three days.”
“Then that is what we will do.” The King announced his decision before any could comment more. “You may leave me,” he said standing to his feet. Then he turned to Darius and Ewian. “You both come with me.”
Darius and Ewian followed him through the flap into his sleeping area. A meal lay on a low table and the king seated himself at the end. Motioning for them to stand before him, he leaned forward with a frown. “I am not content with waiting. The Queen was not in the best of health when we left Kiylin and I am eager to hear news of her. As you both know, I have sent messages to her repeatedly since we cornered Micrey. None of them were answered and the messengers did not return. Trenar believes that they were intercepted and I am losing patience. If we do not have news by the end to two days, I am taking a group of men and traveling ahead.”
“Sire,” Ewian said. “I fear that would be foolhardy. The decreased numbers would put you at risk.”
“Not if there are traitors in our midst even now, as Trenar believes. His men have seen signs that someone is stealing our supplies and sending information to an unknown contact. One message was intercepted that hinted at my death. He is still trying to corner the leak, but it is difficult in an army two thousand strong.�
�� He sighed. “I may be safer among a group of handpicked men, loyal only to me. Even if they are fewer in number, I will not have to be concerned about finding an assassin’s knife in my back. I have not decided on the matter, but I want you both to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
Darius nodded, but his heart was heavy with indecision. “Sire, if there is danger, you should have someone guarding you more closely.”
The King smiled. “Trenar and Regan have already tightened my security far more than I can stand. I sleep with my sword at my side as I did when I was fighting for the throne in my youth. Go and be at peace, Darius. I am as safe as I can be at this moment. I just do not wish to go into the battle for Kiylin defending my back as well as my front.”
“Very well, Sire.”
“I had to argue with the mess master for twenty minutes just to get this.” Timothy, Darius' armor bearer's voice carried clearly in the night air. Brice heard it perfectly through the tent wall and the heavy wool fabric of the dress she was attempting to pull over her head. She did not hear Darius' reply, but Timothy's reaction was very understandable.
“Fine,” he said in a sulky tone. “I will try again. Maybe this time he will believe there are three in our tent.” As he stomped off, Brice finished smoothly rolling her old dress into a ball. Then taking up the gray cloak and the small bag of sewing supplies the supply master sent over, she went to find some light.
Outside the tent flap, a good fire was burning a few yards away. A dark crouching shadow, Brice assumed was Darius, loomed next to it. She picked her way carefully to his side and sat down. Then she dumped the contents of the sewing kit into her lap.
She was just about to cut the excess off the cape bottom, when Darius spoke. “I promised to explain why we came.”
Brice looked up, but Darius was staring into the fire before them and did not return her glance.
The Mercenary's Marriage Page 3
