Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  The lad jumped and gave a hasty nod, before bowing and rushing from the room.

  Leargan dragged his hand down his face, scratching his stubble. “I see loyalty has its limits.”

  “He looks to you like a father,” Jorrin admonished. “He’s worried about you.”

  Guilt crept up from the pit of his stomach. The duke was right. Brodic was a good lad, an excellent squire and would make a hell of a knight when he earned it. Leargan didn’t praise him nearly enough. He loved the lad.

  Ansley.

  He loved her, too. For all the good it was doing him.

  Leargan sucked in a breath, closing his eyes.

  Get yourself together. There’s an empath in the room.

  And she was the last thing he wanted to think about, let alone talk about. Especially with Jorrin and Tristan.

  “Why are you radiating hurt?” Jorrin asked.

  Dammit.

  He didn’t have a chance.

  Leargan shrugged, averting his fuzzy gaze from the two men before the duke could call him a liar.

  In the short time he’d known them, he’d grown as close to them as he was to the men of the personal guard he’d grown up with.

  “Nice try,” Jorrin whispered. “I’d not wanted to pry yesterday, but what happened?”

  “And why do you have a hangover?” Tristan asked in the same gentle tone. “You’re not prone to overindulgence.”

  “Why are you two in my room? Since we’re all asking questions,” Leargan countered, trying to frown. He crossed his arms over his chest, but the movement jarred his head.

  “Because you didn’t come to the great hall to break your fast. You didn’t show up for briefing when the castle men-at-arms changed guard, and you didn’t show up on the training grounds. Niall said he hadn’t heard from you, either. When Brodic asked if we’d seen you, Jorrin and I knew there was a problem,” Tristan said.

  “We came here after Ansley said you weren’t in her chambers,” the duke said.

  Her name on Jorrin’s tongue made his heart stutter, but he ignored it. “What? What time is it?”

  “Almost noon,” Tristan said.

  “Noon? Blessed Spirit!” Leargan jumped up.

  Bad idea.

  He wobbled on his feet, then landed hard on his arse on the edge of his bed. Leargan moaned and grabbed his head with both hands. He’d never be right again.

  “Here, let me fix that.” Tristan was at his side in seconds, gripping his shoulders. The lord steadied him, then pressed a hand to his forehead.

  Warmth spread downward, and Leargan slipped his eyes closed as he concentrated on Tristan’s gentle touch on his stubbled cheeks. His head stopped throbbing. Like a veil was lifting, pain and fuzziness receded. A languorous heat settled over his body and his muscles felt loose and refreshed, like he’d just gotten out of the bath after a good long soak.

  Moments felt like hours, but when he met the lord’s hazel eyes, his friend smiled. Sweat beaded the younger man’s forehead, but he wasn’t pale like Leargan had seen him after a big healing job.

  Leargan squared his shoulders, sucking in one deep breath, then another. He forced a smile for Tristan and Jorrin’s benefit.

  With a clear head only came pain full force.

  Ansley.

  His chest constricted and he fought the urge to double over. Gone was the pleasant feeling in his muscles.

  “Better?” Tristan asked.

  No. “Aye.” Leargan nodded. “But fixing the result of my poor choice is a waste of your healing touch.”

  Tristan’s smile was sad. “There’s more where that came from, but I do regret not being able to mend your heart.”

  Leargan cursed under his breath, looking away as Tristan slid onto a chair at the table next to the wide hearth in his room.

  He couldn’t look at Jorrin until he gathered his wits. Damn empathic magic was too much. A man couldn’t keep his feelings private. “You said you saw Ansley? How is she?”

  “She looked like hell, frankly,” Jorrin said, one dark eyebrow up, cocking his head to one side. “Like she’d been crying all night.”

  Leargan winced. “She probably had been.”

  The door opened, and his squire appeared with a well-laden tray.

  Jorrin took a seat next to Tristan as Brodic set the food down. The scent of fresh warm bread and thick stew tickled his nose.

  Thank the Blessed Spirit the healer had cleared his head, or his stomach would have rejected the delicious meal. “Thanks, Brodic.” He joined the lords and sat.

  The duke poured a glass of water and handed it to Leargan.

  Brodic gasped and hurried forward to stop Jorrin from serving, but he shook his head.

  The lad’s chest rose as if he’d taken a breath, his cheeks pink.

  “Are the men still on the grounds?” Leargan asked Jorrin.

  “Yes,” Jorrin said, tearing a piece of bread from the small loaf and taking a bite.

  “Brodic, get your horse and join Alaric and Lucan with Roduch. You have training, lad,” Leargan said.

  The boy’s gray eyes lit up and he jumped, blond curls bobbing when he gave a curt nod. “Aye, sir.”

  Leargan exchanged amused glances with the two lords.

  Brodic flashed an unabashed grin and started to rush from the room, only to hurry back to the table with a belated bow.

  “Good lad.” Leargan chuckled after Brodic had closed the door.

  “Aye, he is,” Tristan said.

  The half-elfin lord nodded as he ate, but his blue gaze was keen.

  Leargan took a sip of water and steeled himself for spilling his guts. He reached for the spoon on the trencher and dug into the stew. But as he glanced over the normally appetizing meat and vegetables, his stomach roiled. “I told her everything yesterday, and now she won’t marry me.”

  His friends said nothing, but both wore pained expressions. Of course they knew what he was going through, they both loved their wives.

  Tristan and Jorrin were lucky; their women loved them back.

  The story poured out, his heart pounding harder with every word of his confession.

  Gossiping. Like a woman. Really?

  “Do the honorable thing?” Jorrin asked.

  Leargan nodded, giving his friend a long look.

  The duke’s eyes widened the moment he’d understood.

  “She practically accused me of taking her innocence so she’d have to marry me.” Leargan’s voice cracked. He scooted to the edge of the chair, then took a bite of bread to play it off. He hurt, and Jorrin’s expression shouted that his empathic friend knew it. “It gets worse.”

  Tristan squeezed his forearm in comfort, hazel gaze warm.

  Leargan told them the worst thing he’d said to her. That he’d take their child, if she was pregnant.

  “Aww, hell,” Jorrin said, shaking his head.

  “Oh my,” Tristan muttered. “We have a mess, don’t we? Her father and the king will be here any day now.”

  “Any day now?” Leargan croaked.

  “We received word yesterday,” Jorrin said.

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Leargan demanded.

  “I thought it best you come clean first.” Jorrin crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  “Oh. Aye. That did me a lot of good. She told me she hated me.”

  “Damn, Leargan. You’ve dug yourself a hole.” The duke shook his head.

  “I’ll say,” Tristan said.

  Leargan cringed, shoving his hand through his long hair. “The worst part is, after I left her chambers, I realized just how big of an idiot I really am.”

  “You love her,” Jorrin breathed.

  Leargan nodded, biting back the hundredth wince of the day.

  The lord felt his love for Ansley. Too bad she couldn’t.

  Empathic magic had always fascinated and petrified him. People were always feeling something. If Leargan had such powers, he’d have to be a hermit in some isolated mountain somewhere.


  He’d been told than Jorrin’s powers paled in comparison to his father, Braedon’s. How could either of them stand being around people?

  “Aye, I love her.” Saying it out loud was worse. Daggers stabbed his heart with every breath. He wanted to rub the spot, but forced himself to sit still.

  “Then tell her,” Tristan said.

  “I’m pretty sure it’d fall on deaf ears. She told me she never wanted to see me again, in addition to the lovely, I hate you, Leargan.”

  “You are a bigger idiot than you thought,” Jorrin muttered.

  “What?”

  “She loves you,” Tristan said. Jorrin shot him a look that Leargan didn’t miss, but Tristan shrugged. “He might as well know the truth.”

  The duke sighed.

  “Truth?” Leargan asked, stomach fluttering.

  “Ansley told Aimil she loves you,” Tristan said.

  “She what?” Leargan whispered. At another time, he might have been amused that he and the two lords were actually gossiping like women.

  Ansley loved him?

  She’d called him a liar…but she loved him?

  Leargan looked from Jorrin to Tristan and back again. His heart galloped.

  “She told Cera, as well.”

  “Then why didn’t she tell me?” Leargan made a fist.

  “Did you give her a chance? Besides threatening to take her child away, what else did you say, Leargan?” Tristan asked gently. “Empty threat or not, that wouldn’t tempt her to speak words of love to you.”

  Heat crept up his neck and he averted his gaze. “She asked me why I wanted to marry her, and I couldn’t answer her.” Leargan closed his eyes.

  “Aww, hell.” Jorrin repeated.

  “I’m a complete idiot.”

  “There is an upside to all this,” the duke said, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

  “What could that possibly be?” Leargan asked.

  “You still have a day or two to fix your mess.” Jorrin’s voice was much too bright.

  Tristan chuckled.

  Leargan glared at them both.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  They’re going to arrest him today!” Avril burst into the Duchess Solar, relief washing over her, mouth curving in a slow smile.

  No fear.

  She wasn’t afraid of Tynan anymore.

  Soldiers were mounting up at this very moment, to be led by Sir Leargan and Lord Aldern themselves.

  Her knight had fought to be included. His captain and the duke couldn’t stop him.

  Avril’s heart had dropped to her stomach when she’d witnessed the argument between Roduch, his captain and the duke.

  He’d vowed he would refuse a direct order, no matter the punishment if they left him behind. After a heavy sigh, Sir Leargan had made him swear an oath against killing Tynan and relented, with the begrudged approval of Lord Aldern.

  They were going to march on her former husband’s holding and arrest him. Throw him in Castle Aldern’s dungeons. Hopefully, throw away the key.

  The duke had told her he’d sent people to subtly access Tynan. He’d gone to Greenwald Main to search for her, but after staying for several days at several inns, he’d gone back home.

  Avril had told them all she knew about the holding to help them arrest her former husband and protect themselves.

  Then when the king arrived, Tynan Mont would have a trial.

  Roduch had said there was a place for him in Dread Valley, the penal territory in the far off Province of Dalunas. Her knight also said the bastard deserved death over prison, but Avril was fine with either. As long as he stayed locked away forever and she never had to see him again.

  He would pay for all his crimes, blackmail, theft of land and holdings, and murder, in addition to his treatment of her and violating their marriage agreement.

  Too bad it wasn’t illegal to misuse magic.

  Her eyes darted around the lovely bright room.

  Mistress Ansley was alone, sitting by one of the many windows, face tilted down toward the courtyard.

  Something’s wrong.

  Avril squinted, concentrating to access her magic. The older girl’s aura throbbed, a mixture of pale blue sadness and white hot pain. It fluctuated, other emotions floating in and out, interwoven. A rainbow of unpleasantness.

  With a wince, Avril smoothed the front of the green gown; one of the four Lady Cera had gifted her. It was shimmery and soft, and needed no straightening, but nerves and sympathy crept up from the pit of her stomach, replacing her joy that her former husband was about to be captured.

  What had happened to the normally bubbly redhead? Since Roduch had talked her into spending time with the ladies, Avril had made three fast friends. The three young women had welcomed her with open arms. Actually, even the staff of the castle had been nothing but friendly and kind.

  Meara, the maid she’d met on her first day there was rarely far from her side, seeing to her every need. Avril also considered her a friend.

  Along with Ladies Cera and Aimil and Mistress Ansley, she spent a great deal of time in the Duchess Solar. Laughter and lightheartedness.

  Something that was a shocking change in her life. All the pain was fading into the background. Her new friends…and her new love were helping her forget…heal.

  Roduch.

  Sleeping in his arms every night, kissing him…it was new for her, but she wanted more. Her heart leapt. Avril was falling for him.

  Roduch hadn’t pushed her. Staunch that he’d be waiting when she was ready, but he’d made it plain he wanted her.

  Could he be feeling for her what she was starting to for him?

  She sucked in a breath, stomach fluttering. It was to ponder later. Something was wrong with her new friend.

  Avril loved talking to Mistress Ansley, with her thick northern accent—not unlike her knight’s—and Lady Aimil, with the slight southern lilt, since she’d come from Ascova.

  “Mistress Ansley?” Avril ventured but didn’t move closer. She didn’t need magic to know the other girl wanted to be alone.

  “Hi, Avril,” Ansley said but didn’t look over her shoulder.

  Watching from where she stood, Avril saw Ansley’s aura flicker and turn white. Something was hurting her. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Aye. I see the men in the courtyard right now. I’m relieved for you.”

  Avril slipped closer, following her friend’s gaze. Roduch’s tall form stood next to a huge blue roan stallion, his large hands on the reins as he waited to mount up.

  The captain’s dark head was bent with the duke’s.

  Ansley’s gaze was glued on the two men.

  “Are you all right?” Avril asked.

  Misty, blue-green eyes met hers as Mistress Ansley looked away from the scene below.

  Avril sat next to her friend, heart skipping. She’d come to care about the redhead very much in a short amount of time. She’d saved her. Shown her what a strong woman was.

  “I’m fine.” Ansley averted her gaze.

  Avril said nothing about the lie, but sighed. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. If not, that’s all right, too.”

  One corner of her mouth up, the other girl met her eyes again. “Thanks. You’ve been through too much to endure my issues as well, but I very much appreciate the offer.”

  Avril shook her head, smiling softly. “I’m fine, I promise. Just know I’m here for you, all right?” She wanted to reach for Ansley’s hand but stopped herself.

  Touching people was still difficult. Though she’d not forced her magic since she’d come to the castle, she didn’t always have warning when a vision was going to present itself, and touch was a trigger. She wouldn’t want to see anything of Mistress Ansley’s future without being asked to look.

  Funny, as much as Roduch had touched her, it hadn’t happened with him. And they still hadn’t really figured out why he’d been seeing her since he wa
s a boy. Lady Cera’s cousin, Avery, hadn’t been able to find anything in any magic tomes. He agreed with the boy; theirs was a case of true, divine fate.

  Faith and love.

  Avril would grasp it with both hands and hold on with all her might.

  “I appreciate it. Really,” her new friend whispered. The other girl reached for her hand and squeezed.

  Avril accepted the gesture, but her head spun as the familiar sense of magic crept up, then engulfed her.

  The present fell away and two unknown figures shimmered into her mind’s eye, wavering at first, but finally coming into focus.

  Her body heated and her magic surged.

  Sir Leargan and Ansley were standing with hands joined, facing each other. Gazing into each other’s eyes as if there was no one else on the continent. Avril gasped as love washed over her. Their love for each other. Feelings of forever.

  Her friend was dressed in wedding attire, a gorgeous, lavish gown the pale green of Greenwald. Her red hair was braided intricately, and she wore a traditional wedding crown of woven flowers.

  The knight was dressed in shiny decorative armor one would never fight in, the howling white wolf of Greenwald etched and painted in color on his chest plate.

  Avril’s heart pounded as she comprehended the scene before her.

  The vision was surrounded in the pale purple aura of things yet to come. She was looking at the future.

  Mistress Ansley and Sir Leargan’s wedding.

  As quickly as the premonition started, it began to fade, the couple flickering as they went, as soon as Sir Leargan leaned down for a kiss.

  Magic dissipating made Avril’s head spin, and she reclined back in the chair, taking a deep breath when her shoulders hit the carved wood.

  “Avril? Are you all right?”

  Her friend’s sadness washed over her when their eyes made contact again, pulling back to the here and now.

  So opposite of the vision.

  Avril squeezed Ansley’s forearm and smiled. Peace settled over her, and she wished she could project it onto the Rider like the healer could. “Yes, I’m fine. And you will be, too.”

  Mistress Ansley’s teal eyes widened and she swallowed.

  She wouldn’t reveal the vision, since it was unplanned, unrequested, but Avril wanted her friend to feel better with all her heart.