Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  Who would do something like this to someone so young and small?

  She didn’t weigh much, just a feather in his arms. He settled her into his chest, and the girl groaned but didn’t awaken. That was for the better, sleep would spare her pain.

  Soon, she was returned to Roduch’s arms, and Leargan remounted Fia.

  He grabbed the reins and turned the mare, facing the group of his men, a mix of castle men-at-arms and knights of the personal guard. Tonight was supposed to have been a training patrol to show the new men how to keep eyes peeled. It was supposed to have been an easy task, a normal training exercise.

  We have to expect anything. Always.

  He cleared his throat. “Alasdair, you’ve the lead. Stay on patrol. See if you can find out where she came from or who did this to her. Report back as soon as possible,” Leargan ordered, meeting Alasdair’s eyes.

  The other knight gave a brusque nod.

  The King’s Rider pulled her large, white gelding abreast with Fia. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m headed to Castle Aldern. I have an urgent message from the king.”

  Chapter Two

  She should sleep for a while. Not my doing with magic, though. Exhaustion. Blessed Spirit only knows how she was strong enough to make it to the edge of the road,” the healer, Lord Tristan Dagget said, his face pale with concern, as well as expended magical energy. Healing was physically exhausting and dangerous to the untrained.

  He was dressed casually, just a tunic and breeches. No usual doublet or belt in sight. Then again, everyone had been called in from their beds.

  The duke himself, Lord Jorrin Aldern, pressed him into a chair, but he waved everyone’s attentions away.

  Tristan’s wife, Lady Aimil, hovered. Her long dark locks were in a thick plait and swayed with her movements. There was really no need to worry, but Tristan always saw to his own needs last.

  Leargan smirked as the lord just flashed a smile.

  Morag, the castle’s headwoman, fussed over Roduch’s refusal to leave the girl’s side. He was posted in a chair flush against the bed.

  They’d settled her into one of Castle Aldern’s many large guest suites, and the warrior was holding one of her pale hands, ignoring the woman in charge of all the castle’s female staff as she muttered about decorum.

  Her glare demanded he be dismissed, but when Leargan and the duke both ignored her, she huffed, barking at her two maids as they bustled around the room.

  The very pregnant duchess, Lady Cera, stood arm and arm with the Rider. The message from the king to the duke was in the messenger’s hand.

  Lord Aldern had assured her he’d be with her in a moment.

  The Rider waited patiently, her worried eyes darting over the scene before them. Every once in a while she and the duchess would whisper to each other, heads bent together. Her hair was red like the duchess’ but a lighter shade, more orange than Lady Cera’s deep auburn.

  Lady Aimil had been in on their conversation as well, before she’d left them to be at her husband’s side.

  The messenger’s name had clicked in Leargan’s mind. The moment light of the castle had allowed him to get a better look at her.

  Senior Rider Ansley Fraser. Daughter to the captain of the king’s personal guard, Sir Murdoch Fraser. His former captain and longtime mentor.

  She favored her father to a tee, bright red hair and teal eyes. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose gave her an air of innocence. Her body was partly obscured by her cloak, but she was tall and slender.

  Absolutely gorgeous.

  Leargan could barely tear his eyes away, even though he should be paying attention to their very serious situation.

  Morag and the maids shuffled out, the headwoman closing the door quietly. She was discreet. Hopefully the two maids would exercise the same care. Events like tonight tended to spread over the castle like a contagious disease.

  “Did you get her name?” The duke’s voice took his attention, and he glanced at both of his lords.

  “No,” Tristan answered, voice low. His eyes shot to Roduch and the servants, before the healer looked back at Lord Aldern. “I touched her mind with mine when I began to heal her, but hers snapped shut, probably defensively. She’s been through hell. More than once.”

  “What do you mean?” the duchess asked, one hand on her swollen stomach and moving closer to Tristan’s chair.

  The Rider was on her heels.

  Jorrin threw his arm over his wife’s shoulders, but she ignored his whispered admonition to get off her feet.

  The group was in the sitting area of the large room, but the bed wasn’t far enough that Roduch wouldn’t hear them. He had some of the sharpest senses of the personal guard.

  “I sensed tons of half-healed wounds, old scars, and bruises inside and out. Even two broken ribs that had knitted wrong. I fixed all that, though, too.”

  Lady Aimil gasped and took a step closer to her husband. Tristan took his wife’s hand.

  “Blessed Spirit…” the Rider whispered, her eyes misting over.

  Leargan’s heart skipped, and he was overcome with the desire to comfort her. Touch her in some way. But he planted his hands at his sides and stayed where he stood, just inside the door, watching. Listening.

  “And…” Tristan’s voice dropped even further. “I sensed evidence of repeated rapes. Fresh…bleeding…there that needed healing, as well.” He winced.

  Ansley Fraser gasped and swallowed hard. She stared at Roduch’s new charge. Her mouth wobbled, as if she was fighting tears.

  For a girl she didn’t know? Leargan was intrigued.

  He scooted closer.

  Lady Cera uttered an un-duchess-like curse.

  When Leargan tore his gaze from Ansley Fraser and met the duke’s blue eyes, Lord Aldern shoved a lock of black hair behind one slender tapered ear, revealing his mixed heritage—his father was human, and his mother elfin. His hands were jerky, and he made a fist. His jaw was tight.

  “I will find whoever did this to her and kill the bastard,” Roduch vowed. The big knight turned toward them, fists clenched.

  “We need to talk to her first,” Tristan said, tone gentle.

  Leargan went to Roduch, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  His friend looked up at him, saying nothing. Leargan squeezed, when he read the anguish in the pale blue eyes.

  “Captain…” Roduch whispered, shaking his head.

  Leargan glanced at the girl asleep in the large bed. Dark curls covered the pillow. She was ethereally beautiful, her small hand engulfed by the big warrior’s. Pale skin now clear of bruises, her expression was serene, from delicate brows to full lips. Thick sleeping furs swallowed her small frame, but Leargan could see the rise and fall with her deep, even breathing.

  Peaceful innocence.

  Who hurt her?

  “We’ll deal with it, Roduch, I promise,” the duke vowed.

  “Thank you, Lord Aldern,” Roduch said. His broad shoulders heaved, as he relaxed, and Leargan patted his back.

  “Greenwald has the same laws as the rest of the kingdom,” Lady Cera said. “Whoever it was will be brought to justice.”

  Leargan met the half-elfin duke’s eyes again and gave a curt nod, which Jorrin returned.

  “Do you think she’s a servant who has run away?” Lady Aimil asked.

  “Her clothes were poor, at best,” Leargan said.

  “But just soiled, their quality was not all that poor,” the duchess said. “They were irreparable. I’ve had the offending things thrown out. Even if she is a servant, she should’ve been better taken care of. She can’t be very old.”

  “No. Seventeen or eighteen turns, no more,” the Rider said, biting her bottom lip.

  Tristan nodded. “Age is hard to determine even through magic, but I agree.”

  “I will take care of her,” Roduch said.

  Another vow.

  Although Leargan hadn’t moved
from his side, Roduch’s back was to them again. The other knight caressed the back of the girl’s hand with his thumb, leaning in to push the ebony curls from her face with a gentleness that belied his size.

  “I know you will, my friend,” Leargan said.

  Tristan and Jorrin exchanged a look with their wives, and Ansley Fraser shifted on her feet, when Leargan met her eyes.

  Leargan shrugged and looked back at the two lords. He’d never seen Roduch like this either. This girl—she meant something to his fellow knight.

  Roduch only had eyes for her.

  “When will she wake?” Roduch asked.

  “Hopefully the morning, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was early afternoon. Her body’s healed. She won’t be scarred or sore anymore, but sleep needs to finish the job,” Lord Dagget said.

  “I will stay with her.”

  No one contradicted him.

  Leargan nodded and met Roduch’s eyes. His friend relaxed into the chair even more.

  “When she wakes, I want to be summoned,” Tristan ordered.

  Roduch nodded over his shoulder before turning back to his charge.

  “Morag will tend to anything she needs,” Lady Cera said. “Don’t mind my headwoman, if she fusses at you, Roduch. She will. If you think your place is here, it is. And you have the healer’s blessing or you wouldn’t be permitted to stay.”

  Lord Dagget nodded as he gained his feet, pulling his wife to his side.

  “Good night,” Roduch whispered.

  After murmured goodnights, the six of them stepped out into the corridor. Lady Aimil closed the door quietly, before slipping her arm around Tristan’s waist. He’d gotten his color back, but he looked drained.

  The healing lord swallowed back a yawn no one missed but smiled.

  “Blessed Spirit, he’s awfully protective of someone he doesn’t even know,” Lord Aldern whispered.

  “I’d noticed,” Leargan said. The Rider stood close to him, and he forced himself to look at the duke and ignore the urge to yank her to his side.

  Where’s that coming from?

  Both couples stood arms entwined, and he tried to ignore the picture of him and his old captain’s daughter touching in his mind.

  “But…” tumbled out of Leargan’s mouth.

  “But what?” the duke asked.

  “Roduch has a little magic.”

  “Go on…” Lady Cera prompted, gray gaze sharp.

  Jorrin’s eyes narrowed. Why did I not know this? His eyes asked.

  Leargan bit back a wince. Roduch wasn’t comfortable with his gift. How many times had Leargan heard that as a lad? Even when his magic had been helpful and one of Roduch’s visions had saved them.

  Despite keeping secrets for a close friend, he should have told his lord.

  The duke had a right to know what all the Knights of Greenwald were capable of. But somehow, Leargan was still leery of revealing Roduch’s secret. He forced words out of his mouth.

  “He sees things. Visions. Since we were lads. He can’t control them. Sometimes the past, sometimes the future. He’s told me it’s hard to discern. He’s not comfortable. Never willingly accesses his magic. It’s physically disorientating. Roduch has told me he doesn’t know what brings it on, but they’ve saved my hide—my men’s and the king’s—a time or two, so I keep his secret. I’m not sure even the rest of the guard knows. Perhaps he sees something of the girl he has yet to reveal.”

  Five sets of eyes stared at Leargan.

  Lord Aldern didn’t look angry as he absorbed his speech, but said nothing.

  Tristan and the women all looked pensive.

  “My aunt has visions,” Lady Cera said. “But she’s very powerful and always in control. My mother, as well, had them, though not as strongly.”

  Leargan nodded; he’d heard that Lady Lenore—Duchess of the Province of Tarvis—was a powerful oracle, among other things.

  “He’s never trained?” Tristan asked.

  “Only the sword.” He met Lord Dagget’s hazel eyes.

  “Unhoned magic can be dangerous,” Lord Jorrin said, dark brow drawn.

  “I’d agree, if it was more than visions, but it’s not,” Leargan said. “Especially since he doesn’t use it. Or try to.”

  “I agree.” Tristan nodded.

  “We can sort the rest out in the morning,” Lady Aimil said, tightening he grip on her husband’s waist as he swayed.

  Leargan took a step forward to assist, but the healer put a palm up. “I’m fine, but seeking my bed is necessary.” With further assurance he needed no assistance, Lord Dagget slipped his arm around Lady Aimil’s shoulders. The couple headed down the corridor away from them.

  “I’d like to say the same, but it seems I’ve other business.” Lord Aldern turned to Ansley Fraser and gave a half-bow, offering a charming smile.

  The girl blushed scarlet and something akin to jealousy tightened Leargan’s gut. He pushed it away and chided himself.

  “You’ve a message for me?” Jorrin prompted when she said nothing.

  “Aye.” The Rider produced a small scroll, placing it in the duke’s outstretched hand.

  “I’ve heard so much about you, Mistress Fraser. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  She touched her cheek and smiled. “And I of you, my lord, but please call me Ansley.”

  “Please call me Jorrin.”

  “Oh, Ansley, I’m so glad to see you!” Lady Cera hugged her friend. “When are going back to Terraquist? You have to stay until the baby comes.”

  “The king has given me leave for a visit.”

  “Wonderful!”

  The two women chatted for a few moments, and Leargan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision that was his captain’s daughter. Her blue-green eyes and gorgeous face lit up, as she laughed with the duchess.

  “It’s late, love. You need to get off your feet. Tristan said it’ll help with preventing more false labor,” the duke said.

  “False labor?” Ansley’s voice was concerned.

  Lady Cera scrunched up her nose and nodded. “We were up all night last night. No baby, obviously.” She patted her distended tummy.

  “Oh my. By all means, get to bed then, Cera.”

  Jorrin slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her to his side. “I’ll review the message tonight. The king said it was urgent?”

  “He did.” The Rider nodded.

  Leargan was intrigued with the change in her expression. Concern for her friend melted into seriousness, as she discussed the scroll; her duties. She cared deeply for her role.

  She squared her shoulders and her green cloak shifted. When she caught him looking at her, Ansley smiled shyly.

  His stomach fluttered, and he made himself look away as heat crept up his neck.

  “Goodnight, Leargan.” Jorrin’s voice made him jump and he swallowed. The duke shot him a knowing glance, and he bit back a groan. “I’ll brief you on the scroll in the morning if need be.”

  Damn empathic magic.

  Leargan was transparent, whether he wanted to be or not.

  The duke’s gift allowed him to literally feel other people’s emotions. The closer he was to a person, the more he felt for them, the stronger his ability.

  “Understood.” Leargan forced a nod.

  “I’ll call a maid to show Ansley to a room and order her a bath,” Lady Cera said.

  “Don’t go to any trouble.” The Rider gestured and shook her head.

  “It’s not trouble. You need to rest as much as the girl in that room. A bath will loosen your muscles. I remember long runs well. It’s hard on the body.”

  Lord Aldern laughed. “Don’t argue with her.”

  Ansley smirked. “I know all about that.”

  “I’ll do it.” Leargan’s voice startled him and he almost fidgeted

  The duchess smiled. “Put her on the far end; it’s the nicest room.”

  Leargan nodded.

  The Lady and Lord of Gr
eenwald slipped down the wide hallway, their conversation too low to hear.

  “Thank you, Sir Tegran. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “You’re not. At all. You saved that girl’s life tonight. If you hadn’t found her, she wouldn’t have lasted until morning.”

  “Well, Ali found her. But thank you.” Again a shy smile curved her lips, her cheeks stained pink.

  She’s blushing? Why?

  And why did it please him?

  She glanced at the door to the girl’s room. “Will she be all right?”

  “She’s safe, and Roduch will protect her.”

  “That I believe.”

  The black wolf sidled up to them, leaning into the Rider’s thigh and destroying his concentration on her mistress’s lovely face. The beast put him on edge, though he was long comfortable with wolves in the castle. Both ladies of the castle were bonded to wolves.

  Ansley’s Ali didn’t like him.

  Leargan could feel it in his bones. The hair stood up at the back of his neck. He made split second contact with Ali’s yellow eyes, but forced his away, not wanting her to think he was challenging her.

  Ali growled.

  “Ali, no.” Ansley’s voice stopped the noise coming from the beast, but it took all he was made of not to shift on his feet. She patted the wolf’s head, but it was admonition, not caress.

  “She doesn’t trust me.”

  “Sorry, Sir Tegran, she doesn’t trust anyone but me.”

  “Leargan. Please call me Leargan.”

  Her cheeks went crimson again and he smiled. Leargan took her hand and tucked her arm into his elbow. “Let’s get you to your room. It’s late.”

  ****

  Ansley looked around the lavish guestroom Leargan had shown her to.

  A young maid had met them at the door and introduced herself as Daicy. She was a pretty and petite, with dark honey locks and brown eyes. Even at the late hour, her clothing was crisp, her hair partially covered with a white linen kerchief. Her skirt and tunic were tan in color, covered by a white apron.

  Daicy promised she would be back with hot water.

  The large tub had been placed in front of the fireplace for warmth, instead of in the sizable privy in the corner of the room.