Love's Call

by C. A. Szarek

  “That will be up to Lord Aldern,” King Nathal said, his voice kind.

  “Of course, Roduch,” the half-elfin duke said quickly.

  Roduch nodded in appreciation and glanced at his captain.

  Leargan tilted his head, studying him, but finally, his captain inclined his head.

  Roduch released the breath he’d not realized he’d been holding.

  “The journey is long. Would you not rather stay with your lady?” The king stepped closer to them.

  “I need to see this through. I need to see him interred at Dalunas.” Roduch made a fist.

  “Very well.” One corner of King Nathal’s mouth shot up.

  “If you’ll all excuse me, I need to find Avril,” Roduch said.

  “She’s with Ansley,” Sir Murdoch supplied.

  Roduch nodded thanks before rushing out the great hall.

  He heard a few chuckles.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Leargan sighed, leaning against the fence surrounding the training ground, watching his men pair off with the king’s men to spar. He’d been invited to join them of course, but he was too busy sulking.

  King Nathal, Sir Murdoch and the men had been in Greenwald a full sevenday. Time required to inform the penal territory of its new prisoner’s advent; the king had sent a messenger the very day of the trial.

  Hell, Leargan was surprised Ansley hadn’t volunteered to take Tynan’s proclamation and sentence parchment. It was a sure way to stay away from him, but King Nathal had summoned another Senior Rider, a man named Simond. He’d been off to Dalunas without even staying for a meal at the castle.

  She hadn’t even looked at him since the night of the feast, even when they’d been in the same room. If her father had talked to her, nothing had come of it.

  They still weren’t married.

  It was killing him.

  Everyone knew she’d rejected him, even if they didn’t know why.

  Worse than that were the sympathetic looks and sad smiles everyone shared with him. Pats on the arm and back. He was so transparent, Leargan was surprised no one had given him the there’s-more-than-one-sword-in-the-armory speech.

  He’d always been a private person, but now his love life—or lack thereof—was very public.

  Cringing, he gripped the hilt of his sword and growled to himself.

  Leargan was restless.

  He needed…Ansley.

  Since that wasn’t possible, he needed to get away. Get some air. Something to focus on so he could clear his head.

  Duties.

  They’d always saved him before.

  Scanning the fighting yard, he failed to spot Jorrin or the king. Niall and Sir Murdoch, even Roduch, were no long in sight either.

  “Damn,” Leargan muttered.

  Was he too late?

  He shoved off the fence, sprinting to where Fia was tied. Without a word to any of his men, he mounted as fast as he could, then kicked his mare toward the castle.

  “Let’s go, lass.”

  She nickered as she took off in her element. Her powerful muscles rippled under his thighs as Leargan urged Fia even faster.

  His beloved mount could benefit from getting away, too. It’d been a while since they’d run free together.

  Leargan jumped off her back even before they’d stopped in front of the stables, shoving Fia’s reins at the surprised lad that rushed to meet them in the courtyard. His mare tossed her head but the stable boy gained control quickly, and Leargan didn’t look back as he ran for the castle.

  As he skidded to a stop, he almost toppled over before Jorrin’s ledger room door. He wrenched it open. Several heads shot up, but he didn’t pause as he rushed into the room.

  “I’m going. As a matter of fact, I’ll lead.” Leargan caught Niall’s eye.

  One of his Second’s eyebrows shot up, but his shoulders loosened.

  Niall was supposed to lead the party to Dalunas. But he could stay in Greenwald with his wife. No doubt Lyde would appreciate Leargan taking her husband’s place. The journey would be long and arduous. Likely more than a fortnight total.

  Two sevendays I can forget about Ansley.

  He sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders, standing taller.

  “Leargan?” King Nathal was the first to speak, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “I need to lead my men. Niall, you stay here. As my Second. As you should.” Leargan looked at Jorrin, then back at the king. “It makes more sense for me to go. I’m captain.”

  Surprise and hope rippled across Niall’s face. But his fellow knight and longtime friend locked his blue eyes with Leargan. “I don’t shirk my duties.”

  “I know. Not saying that. It just…makes more sense for me to go.”

  You have Lyde. I have…no one.

  Leargan ignored the tightness in his chest, blaming it on his sprint into the castle.

  Niall stared, his gaze intense. His friend knew exactly why Leargan had volunteered to go, but he said nothing. When his Second inclined his head, Leargan smiled and looked at the king.

  “I have no issue with this change,” King Nathal said. “Jorrin?”

  “It is fine with me.” The half-elfin duke shrugged.

  “When do we leave?” Leargan asked.

  Roduch smiled, leaning back in the chair he was occupying.

  Sir Murdoch and Tristan regarded him silently, both wore expressions of concern.

  Leargan ignored them, making eye contact with the man who’d raised him.

  “At dawn,” the king said. “Murdoch has some route recommendations.” King Nathal gestured to the detailed map of the Provinces laid out on Jorrin’s desk.

  “Looks like we have some things to discuss then,” Leargan said.

  The king nodded.

  Sir Murdoch started talking and pointing to landmarks.

  Leargan’s heart sped up.

  Blessed Spirit, please let this work.

  ****

  “Frankly, Cera, I don’t care.” Ansley strove for nonchalance when she was really falling apart inside.

  The duchess gave her a long look and Aimil snorted out loud from her chair by the fireplace in the Duchess Solar.

  Great, she hadn’t fooled either of them.

  “Well, I thought you’d want to know. Dalunas is a long, hard ride. They’ll likely be gone more than a fortnight.”

  Ansley shrugged, not answering. Maybe by the time Leargan got back, she’d be in Terraquist with her father, forgetting about him. She averted her eyes from her friend’s keen gray gaze.

  Cera rocked her fussy son and silence fell over them.

  Ansley shifted in her chair and ignored the book she’d been pretending to read as Cera nursed Fallon and Aimil was attempting some sort of needlework.

  “You two are supposed to be on my side.” Ansley’s voice was feeble to even her own ears, and she frowned. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and snapped the book closed, rising from the chair to go to one of the many windows looking over the courtyard. Her eyes smarted and she blinked.

  She was so done with tears.

  In her peripheral vision, she noticed Cera set Fallon in a rocking cradle by the warm blaze, after pressing a kiss to his dark red curls. Soon, the duchess enfolded her in a hug from behind.

  Sighing, Ansley leaned into Cera as her friend’s arms settled around her waist. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  In less than a minute, Aimil joined their hug, both of Ansley’s friend’s holding her tight.

  “We are on your side,” Cera whispered close to her ear. “But I see two of my friends hurting.”

  “I’m not talking about this,” Ansley said.

  Neither of them pushed her; just squeezed their arms around her in comfort.

  Ansley closed her eyes, determined not to cry. She’d been in this position, bawling while her best friends held her, too much as of late.

  When will it stop?

  “I didn’t tell you to upset you, but now
you’ve some time to think about things,” Cera said.

  “There’s nothing to think about.” Ansley pulled away from Cera and Aimil, whirling to meet the duchess’s gray eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about this.”

  Aimil frowned, resting a hand on her rounded tummy.

  Cera sighed, her brow knitted tight. “Ansley—”

  “Hello,” Avril’s soft voice caused all three of them to glance to the doorway. She smiled, but it was sad, and guilt crept up from the pit of Ansley’s stomach.

  The girl had been through so much.

  “I’m sorry, Ansley. My issues took your man away,” Avril said as she slipped into the warm bright room.

  How long had she been there before joining them?

  “He’s not my man,” Ansley said quickly.

  Avril’s dark curls danced about her shoulders as she came to them.

  “You are at fault for nothing,” Ansley said as tears once again threatened. “Leargan is Cera’s captain and he…” Her vision blurred, and Avril reached for her.

  The gesture surprised Ansley, but she didn’t turn the shorter girl away when Avril hugged her tight.

  “It’ll be all right,” Avril whispered.

  Ansley sniffed and pulled away, swiping at her nose. “Aye.”

  “Everyone and everything will be fine,” Cera said, handing Ansley a soft corner of linen to wipe her face.

  They all found chairs around the warm fire, Cera rocking Fallon’s cradle gently. Ansley didn’t bother to retrieve the discarded book, but Aimil returned to her project.

  “At any rate, I’m sorry,” Avril whispered, looking into the fire.

  The younger girl wasn’t apologizing for Leargan being gone, but Ansley ignored that knowledge and forced words out. “No. I mean, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Avril. That man is getting exactly what he deserves, and Leargan,” her voice broke, but she made herself continue, “is a fine knight. It makes sense that he led his men. It makes sense that Roduch and Lucan went, too.”

  Avril looked down. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d taken a breath, then she locked her emerald gaze with Ansley’s. “Thank you for being so gracious.”

  “Heh. I’m not gracious.”

  “I miss Roduch already, very much,” Avril said, cheeks pink.

  “You care for him,” Cera said.

  Avril beamed.

  Aimil laughed. “I think that’s a yes.”

  “I…more than care for him,” Avril said softly.

  Ansley fought the urge to close her eyes as pain hit her in waves.

  You’re a wretch. Happiness for them should be first and foremost.

  She was happy for Roduch and Avril. She was just sad for her and Leargan.

  Guilt warred with envy. Her stomach clenched.

  “Good. You deserve a real man,” Cera said.

  “Thank you,” Avril answered, looking down again. “He’s so gentle and patient with me…I don’t know how I would’ve survived this without him.”

  “Roduch is strong and steady. He’ll be at your side always, Avril,” Aimil said.

  “I’ve always been very fond of him.” Cera smiled.

  “As have I,” Ansley said.

  Avril smiled, expression genuine and open. Her riot of ebony curls loose, beautiful green eyes bright, she was about as relaxed as Ansley had ever seen her.

  “Thank you,” Ansley whispered. “You’ve made me feel better.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” Cera reached for Ansley’s hand and squeezed.

  “I’ve never really had friends,” Avril said, looking at each of them. “I’m glad I have some now, and I’m grateful you’re letting me stay here, Lady Cera.”

  Cera inclined her head. “I’m glad you want to stay.”

  “I want to stay wherever Roduch is,” Avril admitted, cheeks crimson again.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that, too,” Cera said.

  Fallon started to squall, and the duchess scooped him up, rocking him and whispering until he quieted.

  “Even crying, he’s beautiful,” Avril said.

  “Thanks,” Cera said, smiling again as she settled her son against her.

  “What do you want, Lady Aimil?” Avril asked. “A boy or a girl?”

  Aimil smiled, resting a hand on her tummy. “It doesn’t matter to me, but I’m sure Tristan would like a son.”

  “How about a daughter, to grow up and marry Fallon?” Cera asked, winking.

  They all laughed.

  “That would be fine, too.” Aimil grinned.

  Leargan’s hurtful threat danced into her mind as she listened to her friends’ conversation. She watched Cera stare at the babe in her arms, a warm smile curving her friend’s lips.

  A little lad with dark hair and big brown eyes running into her open arms popped into her head. Her heart skipped and she frowned.

  No.

  That would only make things worse, even if she wanted Leargan’s child.

  He’d left without saying goodbye.

  Not that she really expected him to reach out to her, but it hurt.

  Dalunas was far away, and the journey could be dangerous.

  What if something happened?

  Wait. Forget it.

  She didn’t care, anyway.

  Liar.

  “Are you all right, Ansley?” Avril’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  Ansley forced a smile. “Aye, thanks.”

  “They will come home to us,” Avril said, a soft smile on her full mouth.

  Ansley flushed. It was like the girl had read her mind. “Aye,” she muttered.

  What else could she say?

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Ansley counted on her fingertips, sucking in a breath when she came to an undesirable conclusion.

  No.

  Had Leargan cursed her when he’d spoken of a possible child?

  Or had he just known?

  Well, there was no possible about it. Not even a probable. She hadn’t bled since the sevenday before she’d been sent to Greenwald.

  Dizziness, queasiness, the sporadic inability to hold food down…or even being able to stand looking at it from time to time.

  It all made sense.

  Ansley was carrying Leargan’s child.

  Denial hit hard and made her head reel. Her knees buckled and she landed hard on the edge of her bed, chest tight.

  Ali whined and nudged her as she scooted closer from her spot on the middle of Ansley’s bed. The caress of her bondmate’s head was automatic as tears welled.

  Pregnant…carrying Leargan’s child.

  The man of her dreams.

  Was she happy or sad?

  He’d only been gone four days. She missed him so badly she ached. But it wasn’t like she’d actually talked to him when he was there, anyway.

  Her father was going to kill him if he found out.

  When he found out.

  Like Leargan had said, Ansley couldn’t hide the rounding of her belly for the whole of the pregnancy.

  If he didn’t kill Leargan, Sir Murdoch would drag them in front a priest immediately.

  She didn’t want that…did she? Was she really contemplating raising Leargan’s child without him?

  Ansley closed her eyes, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  The day after the feast, her father and the king had summoned her—cornered her really—to Jorrin’s ledger room. Without preamble, her father had told her he supported her marriage to Leargan, and expected them to proceed without delay.

  Anger had boiled over, and Ansley had done something she’d never done in her life—yelled at her father. She let him have it—all of it. Explained her hurt and shock that her father would meddle in her life when he’d known clearly how she’d felt about Leargan. She hadn’t even held her tongue in the presence of the king.

  Sir Murdoch had taken her words in stride, crossing his arms over his broad chest and
appraising her. Ansley had half expected his mouth to be hanging open in shock, but he hadn’t said much—neither had King Nathal.

  Unfortunately, true to her father’s nature, he’d calmly repeated his wish she wed Leargan. That statement was only to be compounded by the fact King Nathal echoed the sentiment. Her father had even had the nerve to tell her it was what she wanted.

  Ansley had glared at them both, ignoring the king’s apology for sending her to Greenwald under the guise of an official message.

  King Nathal hadn’t apologized for ordering Leargan to marry her.

  Her demand to know if she’d be forced was left unanswered by both oversized men. Ansley’s father had spoken his peace. Experience told when he did so, he rarely ever changed his mind. Sir Murdoch’s feelings on the matter wouldn’t differ, no matter how Ansley tried to sway him.

  Now…it was different now.

  There was a child on the way.

  Laying her hand over her womb, she sucked in a breath, burying her other hand in Ali’s thick fur.

  The child in her belly had been made in love, even if it was only one-sided. She would love Leargan for the rest of her life…

  Tears scalded her cheeks, but Ansley ignored them, hugging her wolf to her side. Ali whined and leaned up, licking her face from ear to chin.

  “Alllllli,” Ansley groaned but was able to give a small smile as she wiped her cheek dry.

  She stood and took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Cera was expecting her in the Duchess Solar. She needed to pull herself together and pray her stomach remained settled.

  Not only was one friend a new mother, the other was carrying a child. Cera and Aimil were intimately familiar with symptoms of pregnancy. If she lost her breakfast when either was in the room, Ansley was doomed.

  She wasn’t ready to tell them.

  Definitely didn’t want to hear one of Cera’s lectures. The duchess had long calmed in her ire about the scroll and Leargan’s dishonesty. She wanted Ansley to forgive Leargan.

  Ali stayed close as they headed down the corridor to the Duchess Solar. Ansley’s emotions took turns shooting up and plummeting.

  Her bond didn’t send any concrete thoughts, but through their magic, Ansley felt her love. Her wolf wrapped her in it like a warm blanket.