“The king has four sons.” His voice was deep and there was no trace of accent as he turned his eyes to the stick in his hands. Rolling it between his palms, he continued, “The eldest, Tyrone, is like his father. The second, a rash and bold troublemaker, is named Maler. He is the favorite because he is like the king was when he was young. The last two are younglings, not old enough to cause much trouble. They are too busy learning to be great lords to be personally active in any political plots.”
Discarding the stick into the fire, Darius leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Lord Micrey wanted an alliance between his house and the royal house. When he offered an arrangement between his daughter, Gwendolyn, and one of the king's sons, the king turned him down. Not at all deterred, he arranged for Gwendolyn to be caught unchaperoned in the embrace of Tyrone, the heir. When he grasped, Lord Micrey reached for the best.
“As soon as the rumors of an affair were well underway, he took his daughter and left the city in the dead of night without warning. The moment they were gone, a slave appeared at the palace gate, demanding he had a message for the king. Micrey claimed his daughter was compromised and with child by Tyrone.”
Darius shifted again, finally glancing over at her from shadowed eyes. “He made two mistakes.”
“Lord Micrey?” Brice asked, avoiding his gaze.
“Yes.” Darius continued to watch her face. Brice was not sure what he was looking for. “He chose the wrong son and the wrong method. Jenran knows his sons too well to believe the set up.”
Silence hung between them and Brice knew he was waiting for her to ask for more. Deciding he could wait, she started to cut the heavy gray fabric roughly a foot above the hem. The cloak was still going to be overlong on her, but it would no longer drag on the ground.
“That is still going to be long,” he commented.
She glanced up, but still avoided those dark eyes. “I know.” Then, she returned her attention to her work.
“He would never have forced the marriage.” He spoke softly and thoughtfully. “He would have taken care of the daughter and child, but he could not afford to let them roam free. A rogue heir is too dangerous.”
“So they would have been slaves.” She set aside the scissors and began to prepare the needle.
“No.” Darius's eyes followed her motions. “There is a stronghold in northern Braulyn near the Sardmarian border where the Braulian kings have kept their worst secrets safely hidden. Gwendolyn and child would have lived there in great comfort until the king could find use for them.” He paused. “They would have been captives, but not slaves.”
“See.” Timothy's voice came clearly through the darkness, making Brice jump and drop the needle. “Ewian is not eating with us tonight. Darius captured a woman and married her just like I told you. Can I have my dinner now?”
Carefully searching through the folds of cloth on her knees, Brice tried to catch the needle before it reached the ground.
“Alright boy,” a new voice said, followed by the sounds of burdens being exchanged. Brice spotted a glimmer of silver in the firelight.
“Supplies low?” Darius asked someone as she plucked the needle from the depths of a fold. Brice looked up to find the newcomer staring at her with wide dark eyes.
“We had to leave one of the food wagons behind, so I am rationing all the meals.” The man answered without taking his eyes off her. Brice was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. His gaze was unreadable in the flickering light and she was unsure of his thoughts. “Who is the girl?”
“Brice.” Darius rose and offered her his hand. Deciding it was better to rise and decrease a little of the distance between her head and everyone else's, Brice accepted it. Darius helped her up and then used his grip to pull her against his side. Suddenly, she was engulfed in his cloak; his arm pressed her against his leather jerkin. “I wish to introduce you to Hameal. He is the camp cook.”
Hameal bowed with a flare of his arm. “It is a pleasure to meet you, madam.” His eyes went to Darius' face and he grinned. “We all thought Darius would never take a woman. I wish you luck.” Turning he called over his shoulder, “You will need it.” Then he disappeared into the night.
Darius felt Brice shiver. The night air was colder than usual for early fall. Even with a quilt and heavy blanket, she still shivered in her sleep. It did not help that they were sleeping on a pallet spread on the dirt floor of the tent. She had requested they not sleep on the cot. She said she was afraid she would fall off. Darius suspected it was because she was not comfortable with him yet.
Darius watched her stir again. This time she carried the quilt with her as she rolled, exposing her back to the night. Deciding he had let her suffer enough, Darius moved over and lay closer to her. Back to back, he pulled her blanket over them both and spread his own on top. Adjusting his pillow, he settled in on his side and then waited to see what she would do. Initially, the thin body at his back was as stiff as the ground beneath them. He had a feeling she would have gotten up, but she was too cold. Slowly, the tension eased and eventually her breathing grew regular and deep with sleep. Once he was sure she slept, Darius carefully rolled over and gathered her into his arms. Her cheek was still cold when he brushed it with a finger. She needs the warmth, he told himself. As if agreeing, she shifted closer and uttered a soft sigh in her sleep.
~~~
Part III
“He wants to do what?” Darius' voice was low, but Brice knew instantly he was upset. Pulling on her other shoe, she scrambled to exit the tent. If Darius was angry, she did not want to be missing when it was time to leave.
“His majesty wishes to travel ahead.” She heard another male voice reply in dry tones. “He is concerned for his wife. Ever since we found out that the whole Micrey thing was a ruse, he has been worried about the possibility of a coup during his absence.”
Stepping into the early morning light, Brice blinked and located the two men. Darius' bent head was a foot above his companion's. The older man, whom Brice was sure she had not seen before, was only an inch or two taller than her, but made up for his lack of height in breadth. He was solid and sturdy, but not fat.
“As his personal bodyguard, you are to accompany him.” The stranger stated pointedly. As if he should not have to remind Darius of his duty. “He wishes to leave immediately.”
“Larer, I am not debating whether or not to accompany His Majesty,” Darius informed him. Turning his head and looking straight at Brice, Darius studied her face. “I am still concerned about the wisdom of heading off without the army and I am not sure if she should come too.”
Larer followed Darius' gaze to Brice. Surprise flickered behind his pale blue eyes. “And she is…?” He asked suggestively.
“My wife,” Darius said firmly. “She is coming with me.” That decision made, the mercenary turned and yelled, “Timothy, get your sorry hide over here.” Turning back to Larer, who was still standing there a bit stunned, he ordered, “Tell the king we will be with him in a half-hour's time.”
Brice could not help feeling as shocked as the man looked. What did he mean she was going with him?
The boy was slow. Darius knew it was because he did not agree with the decision. “She goes, but I am left tending the supplies.” He could still hear Timothy's protest in his ears. After a brief roaring match, during which Brice made herself scarce, the boy finally began to separate the supplies that were needed for Darius and Brice to travel on their own. Leaving Timothy to his deliberately sluggish movements, Darius began looking for Brice.
She was not far. He found her huddled on the cot in their tent. She had finished dressing and even donned her cloak. “We are leaving in a moment.” He crossed to gather the sack that held his gear. “You should fetch your belongings.”
She did not raise her head from her knees. “I have everything.”
“Then come.” Darius slung the burden over his shoulder and settled the strap. “We need to fetch the horse.” She looked at
him from over her folded arms. He offered his hand and she looked at it like it was a suspicious looking snake. “You should know by now that I will not harm you, Brice.” He waited for her gaze to rise to his. Eventually she did regard him cautiously through a film of unshed tears. Darius waited and watched her eyes. Their green depths were clear and he could almost see her balancing options. “The King is waiting.” He reminded her softly. She dropped her face again and took his hand.
Darius thought about their exchange for the rest of the morning and shortly after stopping for lunch, he asked, “Why do you fear me?”
Brice instantly stiffened within the circle of his arm. Repeating his habit, developed over the past few days, the stallion beneath them protested. “You really must not do that, little bird.” Darius reached to catch the reins with both hands; he did not want the animal to start a charge. The moment he released her waist, Brice grabbed at his arm for balance.
“Please don't,” she begged.
“Then don't stiffen every time I speak to you.” He adjusted his one-handed grip on the leads and then returned his arm to her waist. “I will not let you fall,” he reassured her. “Now are you going to answer my question?” He looked ahead to check on the king's position and their surroundings as he waited for her reply.
“I have no reason not to fear you.”
“Did you fear your master, Lord Micrey?”
“Aye,” she said, after a pause.
“And your master before him?” He probed.
“I had no master before him.”
“Did he beat you?” Darius formed the words carefully. He wanted none of his contempt at the thought to creep into his voice. He had already noticed the way she shied away from any show of emotion on his part.
“Aye.” The answer was so soft Darius almost missed the sound.
“Have I beaten you or hurt you in any way?”
“No…not yet.” She rushed on to explain. “I have not displeased you yet.”
“I promise never to beat you.” He squeezed her waist. “Even if you displease me or even hurt me.”
“Thank you.” Her voice made it clear she still had strong doubts. Darius slowly realized how long it was going to take for him to earn her trust. Too many men had abused her and destroyed any faith she might have had.
“Why did you hunt me?” Her voice trembled, but question was clear. Drawing a deep breath, Darius tried to formulate an answer she would understand.
“I…” He never had the chance to finish the sentence.
“Ambush!” The cry came from the rear guard and instantly Darius turned. With a sharp tug at the reins, he brought the stallion around and searched the area for the king. King Jenran was about twenty-five feet to his left and closer to the rear than Darius wished. Spurring the horse forward, he maneuvered so he and Brice were between the King and the oncoming enemy.
Brice shrunk back against his body and reached to grasp anything she could to keep herself on the horse. She seemed to be managing well enough, but she would be better behind him. “You are going around behind me,” Darius warned her. “Bring up your leg.”
She obediently brought her leg over the horse's head. Swinging her around, he helped her to straddle the horse behind him. Not even waiting until she settled, Darius reached for his sword in the saddle scabbard. Two arms wrapped themselves around his ribs and a small body pressed against his back. Good. She is on. Hefting the weapon before him, he turned to face the attack.
The others were doing the same. One hundred strong, they were by no means an army, but the king had chosen his best. They would not go down easily. Darius let the others go ahead. He had two people to protect and for the girl's sake, he needed to be the last resort, not the first.
Brice pressed her face against the broad back before her and closed her eyes. The horse reared and she almost screamed as the world turned sideways. Thankfully, her grip on Darius held firm. Then, just as suddenly, the universe righted with a teeth-jarring thud. There was yelling all around them and she could pick out the king's and Ewian's voices behind them, but Darius remained silent.
An ear splitting war cry broke forth right next to them and Darius moved. Reaching back to their left, he swung at something and the yell stopped in a gurgle. Something screamed farther off and it took a moment for Brice to realize it was a horse.
Pulling their horse around in a full circle, Darius appeared to be looking for someone. Brice also looked but could not see much beyond his shoulder and sword arm. He must have spotted his object, for the horse came to a stop and Darius appeared to be looking off to their right. Turning the horse's head in that direction, they started forward. His arm and sword were in constant motion and the progress was slow. Again and again an enemy rose up to challenge them. Every one fell in a matter of moments. Right after a particularly bloody confrontation, the horse stopped moving forward. Darius tensed, so Brice prepared herself for another attack and more sudden movement. Instead, he stopped moving completely and the ruckus around them died down.
“If anyone moves, the king dies.” A ragged voice announced into the sudden hush. Every muscle in Darius' back was coiled and ready for action.
“Loosen your grip, Brice,” he whispered. Carefully, she obeyed. Brice realized what he was going to do the moment he moved. Using the horse as a springboard, he launched himself into the air. He landed short of his goal, but the distraction of his action gave the king and his closest bodyguard the opening they needed. King Jenran wrestled the assassin's knife from his neck and Ewian drove his blade up into the wretch's back.
Meanwhile, Darius landed and took out three men while they watched the death of their comrade. Brice found herself yelling a warning as a fourth man turned to attack Darius while he was still finishing his third opponent. Just in time, Darius turned and brought up his sword to block a blow to his head.
Brice did not see the end of that exchange, because she was forced to defend herself. Seeing the horse standing calmly and a female perched upon it, one of the enemy decided to take advantage of the chaos to claim this unusual prize.
A few moments later, Darius thought someone had called his name. The voice was distressed and as he turned, his battle-crazed mind registered that it had sounded sort of like Brice. Searching the battleground quickly with his eyes, he realized she and his horse were not where he had left them moments before. Raising his sword to block his opponent’s blade he spared a glance toward Jenran. The king was well defended. During the next opening, he noticed that very few of the king's men were still engaged and their group was reassembling, clearly the victors. Bringing his opponent to his knees, Darius left him. Making his way toward the edge of the battleground, he encountered Ewian.
“Did you see Brice?” he asked.
The other Ratharian looked up, surprised. “No, is she missing?”
“She and my horse disappeared.” Internally, Darius winced at the foolish sound of the statement.
“A horse and rider entered the woods in that direction a minute ago,” a fellow soldier offered. “I only noticed because someone was pursing them on foot.”
Nodding his understanding, Darius immediately started in the direction the warrior had pointed. Brice was not a horsewoman and as intelligent as his stallion was, they were no match for anyone with experience.
“I am with you,” Ewian announced as he fell into step with him. Darius threw a questioning glance his way. “I like the girl and two is better than one,” He answered.
Darius was thankful for his company when they entered the first clearing beyond the trees. The stallion was backed into a corner. Hedged in on all sides by thorn bushes taller than his head, the beast was pawing the ground and obviously debating whether or not to charge the human obstacle blocking the only opening. Brice clung to his back and watched the man with the sword with even more fear than the horse. Her cloak was gone.
“Everything will be fine, my pretty,” the scruffy man crooned in a rough voice. “Just stay calm and hold
him until I get close enough to grab him.” The man took a step forward. The horse reared with a loud whinny and dumped his rider. Then he charged the assailant, who dove for cover.
Darius ignored the horse, left the man to Ewian, and immediately ran to the fallen rider. She lay sprawled on the ground. As he approached, he tried to recall if he had seen her roll on impact or not. If she had, her injuries would be less. Her face was turned away from him and her hair fell wildly about her head. She did not move and even as he touched her, he feared the worse. Weaving his fingers through the dark curls, he found her neck and a pulse. She lives. Suddenly finding he could breathe again, Darius ran his eyes over the rest of her to see if there were any breaks he could find.
“The man is gone,” Ewian announced from above him. “The coward ran at the sight of you. He did not much like the sight of me either, for that matter. He seems to have a fear of Ratharians.”
“Many do.” Darius heard his own voice reply. “We are going to need the healer; she is unconscious.”
“I will fetch him.” Darius barely noticed the sound of Ewian's retreating footfalls.
Brushing her hair away, Darius examined her face. A dark bruise was developing above her right eye and there were scratches on her cheeks from the branches when the horse had rushed through the trees. She was lucky she had not been knocked off by a limb. What if she does not wake? The thought scared him. He had only just begun to earn her trust and now he had lost her. Refusing to let the idea rest, he gently touched her head without moving it and began searching it for other injuries. Then she moaned and stirred.
Pain! Waves of it washed over her and her head felt like it was going to explode. Brice slowly became aware of the rest of her body and rapidly regretted the discovery. Every bone and joint hurt.
The Mercenary's Marriage Page 4
