The Darkest Warrior

by Gena Showalter

  There. It was done. His course had been set, his future decided.

  Any other man would have experienced triumph. Puck nodded, confused by the hollow sensation in his chest.

  William stared at him, silent, before returning the nod. "Now we dethrone Sin and win back your kingdom. Let's go."

  16

  Day 41, AB (After Bond)

  Gillian flew across the sand and landed with a grunt. As she climbed to her feet, knowing she would be kicked in the face if she stayed down, she tried to catch her breath. A nearly impossible task. She spit out a mouthful of blood and maybe even a tooth.

  She ran her tongue over her aching gums. Yep. Definitely a tooth. Thanks to her immortality, she'd grow a new one by morning. She knew this beyond a doubt, because she'd already had to regrow four others.

  "Rush me again," Winter said. "And be faster, stronger and three hundred percent better at it this time."

  Sure, let me get right on that.

  "Give me a sec." Gillian cracked the bones in her neck and rotated her shoulders, praying the dizziness in her head would clear.

  "In battle, there are no secs."

  Didn't she know it!

  After a failed attempt to follow Puck out of Amaranthia, Gillian had agreed to train for combat. Why not put her hatred for her absentee husband to good use? And really, she couldn't live her dream and fulfill her purpose--helping abused women and children--if she remained weak.

  Winter would teach her how to use every weapon available in this primitive sand hell after she learned how to fight hand-to-hand. Only one problem. Colonel Winter believed pain was the best motivator.

  Every night, Gillian went to bed with fresh breaks and bruises. At least she'd stopped crying herself to sleep.

  One day she would be strong and skilled enough to repay the favor.

  It was nice to have goals.

  "Well?" Winter prompted.

  Trying not to broadcast her intentions, Gillian rushed forward, and drew back her elbow. Before she could deliver a punch, Winter swooped around her and kicked her so hard she feared her spine had been snapped. She fell to her hands and knees. No time to rise. Winter straddled her, grabbed her by the hair and wrenched up her chin.

  Cool metal pressed against the racing pulse at the base of her neck.

  "How can you protect yourself if you can't, you know, protect yourself?" Winter demanded. "I love Puck. Well, not love. He's not me. I like him. He calms me. If you die, he dies. So you can't die. Is your feeble brain beginning to comprehend?"

  Gillian didn't enjoy hearing that another woman liked her husband. Because Puck didn't deserve such devotion, of course, and no other reason.

  "Do something." Winter pushed the blade deeper, drawing blood. "Don't just passively accept my--"

  Gillian erupted, throwing back her head to nail the other woman in the chin. A grunt of pain sounded. Without pause, she spun and punched. Her fist made contact with Winter's nose for the first time ever. Cartilage snapped, and blood poured from her nostrils.

  A glorious tide of satisfaction made all of Gillian's aches and pains fade.

  She expected Winter to explode into a fit of rage, but finally, shockingly, her trainer looked at her with something akin to pride. "All right. Now we're getting somewhere."

  "Bring it," Gillian said between panting breaths. Her sternum burned with every inhalation, and she wondered absently if she'd broken another rib.

  And oh, wow, they were getting somewhere. The idea of a broken rib wasn't sending her into a tailspin of panic. The thought of more pain wasn't engaging her fight or flight response.

  "Um, no. Not today," Winter said. "You look ridiculous with your missing tooth. We'll reconvene tomorrow when the sight of you doesn't make me want to weep for all of womankind." She strode away without striking back, leaving Gillian alone on the crest of the sand dune.

  Camp was below, at least fifty eyes on her, all glittering with mirth. Puck's clan of outlaws found her determination to develop combat skills hilarious.

  "Suck it," she shouted. Something she'd learned: the men of Amaranthia treated the women deplorably.

  Sorry, boys, but one day soon your world is going to change.

  Abusers would be punished. Stables would be abolished.

  For most of Gillian's life, she'd lived in a cage, held prisoner by fear and misery. While actual walls and locked doors kept women trapped in stables, she imagined the "fillies" felt a similar helplessness and dreamed of freedom.

  Must train faster. "Winter," she shouted. "Get your sweet butt back here." From now on, Gillian gave this her all. Nothing held back.

  When Puck returned, he would find a much different wife, and a much different realm.

  22 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  Cameron let it slip that you commissioned him to keep a detailed history of everything that happens during your absence. I decided to help him out because (apparently) I need an outlet for my rage. I've started Hulking-out.

  See, one second I'm calm. The next I feel as if I'm experiencing the rage of a thousand men combined. I'm able to toss 250-pound losers like they're pebbles.

  Weak and fragile, Pucky? I don't think so! Not anymore.

  I blame you and your demon. What did you guys do to me?!

  During a Hulk-out, only two things are able to stop me. I eventually tire and pass out, or I'm force-fed syrup from a cuisle mo chroidhe tree.

  As you probably know, harvesting the syrup takes massive amounts of time and energy. The trees are hard to find, and their poisonous bark is a major bummer.

  I'm ready for your return. If you're thinking she wants to show me one of those rages up close and personal, you're correct. You deserve it. You know you do.

  If you're thinking she's the same girl I left behind, and I can easily intimidate her, you're wrong. Over the years I've been punched, kicked, jabbed, stabbed and hacked. And let's not forget the few times Indifference has returned to drive me crazy. Now? I'm tough as nails, baby.

  Anyway. You'll be happy to know--wait. Rephrase. You won't care to know I've grown to like Winter. Yes, she's selfish to the max. Yes, she looks out for #1, always and forever. But those she considers her "personal property," she protects with her life. Through famine, plague and war with other clans, her fierce spirit has helped keep us going.

  To combat her demon, she turns everything into a game. Her way of inviting someone into her world, I suppose, since overtly giving anything to anyone causes Selfishness to make my girl flat-out lose her mind.

  What does Indifference do to you?

  By the way, I haven't thought about our kiss at all. Nope. Not once. I don't miss you, and never wonder where you are and what you're doing. Thought you'd want to know.

  Gillian Connacht

  PS: Puck sucks.

  106 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  I'm too excited, and have to share with someone--even you. Check it. I acquired magic!

  Wait. Maybe I should backtrack a little, since you're so big on history and all. About sixtyish years ago, Cameron branded runes into my hands at my request. Fast-forward a few weeks. A man ambushed me, thinking to take something I wasn't offering. (FYI. Your little bride hasn't taken a lover yet. And not because she's devoted to you. She's waiting for William. Boom. Mic drop.)

  Anyway. Cameron noticed the commotion and rushed over, but he was too late. I'd already started slashing.

  After my attacker-victim expelled his final breath, dark mist rose from his motionless body. The same mist I saw my first day in Amaranthia, after you killed our ambushers. Remember? Only this time, the mist absorbed into ME. Oh, the warmth! The tingles!

  Drunk on power, I decided to leave Amaranthia, visit the Lords and their Ladies in Budapest, do the whole reunion thing with William, and find out if he'd locked you up somewhere, just liked he promised. I mean, it wasn't like anyone could stop me. The student had already surpassed her teachers.

  And no, I wasn't wishing you'd gott
en yourself locked up. I no longer hate you, okay? I only mildly dislike you now. Time has softened me, I guess. Also, I finally understand why you did what you did.

  I had a light bulb moment after one of my recruits fed me bad intel in order to lead me into a trap. Crap move, right? She planned to present me to a stable master as a gift. Like I'm some filly who needs to be broken and ridden. I barely knew her, and yet her deception hurt. In more ways than one! How much worse was it for you, when your own brother betrayed you?

  More than that, you believe the Connachts will thrive under your rule. Whether they will or not, I believe they'll perish without you. So, yeah. I get it, I really do. I want a better future for my squad, too, and the children we save. I'd do anything to ensure their well-being, even gut you where you stand. But here's the thing. If you ever purposely injure me again, or lie to me, I'll make a kabob with your favorite man parts and host a weenie roast.

  Won't be my first, or my last.

  Now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. My exit. As soon as I reached another realm, my magic vanished. Maybe because I'm not Amaranthian born? Maybe because I'm not yet strong enough. Whatever the reason(s), I backtracked in a hurry.

  I keep what's mine.

  Now I spend my time targeting bad guys: rapists, molesters, and abusers of any kind. Anyone who hurts women and children, really. I'm a killing machine, and I'm living my dream. In fact, I relish the kill almost as much as the magic.

  Is that bad? That's probably bad. What has two thumbs and doesn't give a crap? This girl. (I mean, who will have two thumbs after she regrows the one she just lost? This girl!) If anyone could appreciate my sentiment about villain-like tendencies, it's you, right?

  We're changing Amaranthia bit by bit. We've built an orphanage, as well as a shelter for women. Though many men have tried to stop us, no one has managed to slow us.

  Once, I wanted to be normal. Foolish! Why settle for normal when you can be extraordinary? Pucky, this girl loves her life! Except for--well, it's none of your business.

  Oh, and the squad I mentioned? We started an all-star clan of our own. We're the Shawazons, and we rock the house. Cameron is our studly mascot, and he's obsessed with making us the greatest clan in history. Winter is my second in command. The darling girl has only tried to overthrow me six times, but I outwitted her each and every one, and we later had a good laugh about 'em. I know Selfishness is responsible. Demons are the worst!

  The Shawazons are made up of freed stable members, former prostitutes, survivors of abuse--basically anyone other clans have deemed "unworthy." These people are my family.

  Recently I promoted two of my best soldiers to general. Wait till you meet them. Johanna and Rosaleen got our backs, and we've got theirs. Girl power!

  Uh-oh. I better go. Winter is shouting for me, and that only happens when disaster is about to strike. Or she wants me to clean her tent. Or brush her hair. Or find her shoes.

  Commander Gillian Connacht

  PS: I've renamed you Pucky the Lucky because you're married to me. Face it. I'm AMAZING!

  201 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  Dang it, where are you? You said you'd be back by now. I'm not missing you or anything--definitely not dreaming about our kiss every night--so don't go getting a big head. But come on! I'm ready to divorce you and start dating again. Or for the first time. Whatever! Gotta have experience before William gets here, right???

  Here's the deal. I've never trusted men. I've always freaked out when things got intimate, except for--it doesn't matter. I'm finally at a place where I want... I want.

  Winter says she'll help me pick a man because she's Selfishness, and she selfishly wants me happy. (Yes, she loves me more than she loves you.) She even wrote up a single's ad: Magic warrioress on the battlefield looking for Magic Mike in the bedroom. A total catch! Prone to murderous fits of rage. Gorgeous, sometimes plays nice. House-trained. Comes with an even better best friend.

  If only Amaranthia had a daily paper!

  Okay, okay. I'm not a cheater, so I won't be going on any dates until we get that divorce. I really, really want a divorce, Puck. Please hurry home.

  It's not you, I promise; it's me realizing I'm better off without you. I'm sure there are plenty of single ladies out there, just waiting to stare into your blank eyes and never receive a compliment or any kind of encouragement. And okay, yes, I know only a few hours, days or weeks have passed for you, but two centuries have passed for me. My Hulk-outs are getting worse, and I could use an outlet for excess energy.

  Besides, you're better off with me. I recently learned the down and dirty about your prophecy, how your loving queen is supposed to help you unite the clans and all. Loving queen? Nope. Not me. And I've managed to cause irreparable friction between every clan.

  Nowadays the only thing they have in common is their abhorrence for me. I've killed their men, stolen their magic and helped their women escape gilded cages. The Shawazons have even taught other clanswomen to demand respect from their men--or else.

  You're welcome, genitalmen.

  BTW. Everyone calls me Gillian the Dune Raider now. How awesome is that?!

  Gillian Connacht Shaw, Dune Raider

  PS: Puck is getting chucked.

  300 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  Where are you??? You said you'd be back by now.

  Whatever. Doesn't matter. Your delay is going to cost you regardless. Consider yourself officially separated. FYI I won your friends and all of your possessions in the settlement.

  But dang it, I still can't date other men. Stupid bond! Maybe I despise you again. I'm more than ready to cross sex off my never-never list, but because of you, I can't. I can't move on with my life in any way.

  So I'll ask again. Where are you? What happened to you? I know you were injured earlier, because pain exploded through my head for no apparent reason, and a cold sensation wrapped around my wrist. Then...nothing.

  Look, I'm worried about you, okay, and I do not like to worry. Worry distracts and drains.

  Note to self: find a way to break the bond without Puck's shears.

  Wait a sec. The shears. You plan to use them after William helps you murder Sin...which means you must have already found the shears...which means you've hidden them somewhere in Amaranthia.

  Well, well. If you have 1 pair of shears, and your wife has 0 pairs of shears, your wife now has 1 pair of shears and you have 0.

  New goal: Find the shears, even if I have to flash into a volcano to retrieve them.

  Oh, did I forget to mention I can flash? It happened accidentally the first, oh, bazillion times, and I vomited whenever I reached my destination, but I've since mastered the skill.

  Winter tells me not to get too attached to the ability because magic comes and goes so quickly--and she plans to steal mine--but I'm enjoying the ride.

  Gillian the Dune Raider

  PS: Puck's gonna get his shears plucked.

  343 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  Winter was right. I lost my ability to flash when my supply of magic got low.

  I visited the Oracles, hoping to discover eternal magic. Before the three even deigned to speak to me, I had to offer a token of my appreciation. (You might have noticed that I cut off my hand with my middle finger extended. I'm sweet like that. What do they do with all the body parts people give them, anyway? I'm imagining steaming caldrons with eye of newt or something.)

  The Oracles told me three things, and none of them about magic.

  (1) The man I love has a dream, and I will kill it.

  (2) I must choose between what could be and what will be.

  (3) A happy ending is not in my future.

  I'm not gonna worry about #1, because you're never coming back with William, and he's the only one who could ever tempt me to fall in love. (That's right. I went there.) As for #2, I have no idea what it means, so I've decided to consider it absolute hogwash. And #3? Screw the Oracles. I'm going to prove them wrong.
>
  And when I do, you'll know you can prove them wrong about YOU. You don't need William's help to overthrow Taliesin Connacht. You can do it on your own. Or I can do it for you, if the price is right. So come home and set me free already.

  Gillian the Dune Raider

  PS: Puck sucks <--classics never get old.

  405 years AB

  Dear Puck,

  You STILL haven't returned, and I still haven't found the shears, which makes me wonder if the Oracles were right, and I'm destined to have an unhappy ending after all. What if I'm forever stuck with an absentee husband, a visiting demon, Hulk-rages, and no love life?

  I'm being wooed, Puck. Wooed! By soldiers, princes, even kings. Yep, you read that right. Mating season has hit Amaranthia, and I'm the novelty at the top of everyone's Hit It list.

  At first, everyone wanted to capture or kill me. I even received Trojan horse-type gifts: poisonous flowers, notes with evil spells, and assassins. You know, the usual. When the whole capture-kill thing failed, guys started sending me all kinds of romantic crap. Gold, jewels, fruit from their private orchards, tents, cattle and magic. Well, not magic, exactly, but men for me to slay so I can tap into their magic like a beer keg. In that regard, I'm always happy to oblige.

  The only leader who hasn't shown any interest in me is your brother.

  I haven't purposely avoided Sin or anything, but I've only come across him twice. He built a massive compound on Connacht land and created some sort of maze around it. His people are forbidden to leave. Other clans must survive the maze to get inside. I've heard horror stories about monsters, tests of strength and endurance, puzzles, and total mind-screws.

  The first time I saw Sin, I knew he was your brother without being told. He looks a lot like you. Same long, dark hair--sans razors--same dark eyes.

  I'm sure most women consider him the beauty of the family--because Winter has mentioned it about a thousand times. To me, he's not as striking. (Tell the truth. My compliment made you jizz your pants.) Plus, he doesn't have horns. Or furry legs. Or hooves. Not that I'm digging on those or anything. It's just, winter has come--the season, not the woman--and I remember how toasty warm you are.

  Not that I want to cuddle with you or anything.