by Donna Grant
“I thought of that,” Falcor admitted. “However, we need to know everyone that Tracor has turned. Not to mention, Usotae must believe all is still going according to his plans.”
Dunlain nodded. “A sound decision, my king.”
“Keep an eye on the men. If any look as though they are on Tracor’s side, seize them.”
“Aye, my lord,” Wigar and Dunlain said in unison before they bowed and walked from the chamber.
Falcor rested his hands on the cool black stones and hung his head. “If any of the gods are listening, give me the wisdom of my father and the courage and strength of my forefathers.”
If he failed, if one of his men had one misstep, it could very well kill Linarra.
“My king,” Dunlain shouted as he ran into the chamber.
Falcor’s head jerked up. “What is it?”
“Usotae is here. You need to leave. Now.”
He clenched his hands. “Not without Linarra.”
Linarra couldn’t sit still. She tried to sleep. She tried to eat. She even took a bath, but nothing stopped the growing terror inside her.
Usotae would kill Falcor, of that she was certain. The thought of the warrior king dead left her heart in pieces. He told her everything would be all right, but he hadn’t been able to hide the worry in his own gray gaze.
And her sister. What of Narune? Was she already dead? Usotae had placed her in the palace before Linarra had departed for Kellian. Usotae had assured her Narune would be alive when she returned, but he never intended her to return.
Usotae had to be stopped, and the only one that could do it was Falcor.
She paced the chamber, straining her ears to hear Falcor’s approaching footsteps. She had no idea what he planned, but she knew it was going to be dangerous. It drove her mad not knowing what was going on.
She walked to the large window where she stared out over the jungle. The thunder had grown closer, and she could see even now in the dark, ominous clouds that moved steadily toward them.
It was just by chance that she glanced down and caught sight of a group of men moving through the jungle toward the castle. Slowly she rose to her feet to get a better look at them, but she couldn’t tell if they were Falcor’s men or not.
She turned to race down the stairs when the door below banged open and Falcor yelled her name. She flew down the stairs and found him with his sword drawn.
“Here. I’m here,” she said and rushed to him.
“We have to leave.”
“What’s going on?” she asked as he pulled her toward a massive tapestry that hung from floor to ceiling.
He pushed aside the tapestry and opened a hidden door. “Inside,” he said.
With her skirts lifted in one hand and her other holding onto Falcor, she followed him into the dark tunnel. Her breathing was loud, even to her own ears. She had never felt so frightened in her life, not even when she had killed.
“Usotae is here.”
“What?” she gasped.
“He and his men began surrounding the castle about fifteen minutes ago. My men are following them, but before I engage him in combat, I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Emotion choked her, and though she had many more questions, she couldn’t speak. Instead, she worried about keeping upright as they raced through the tunnels.
When they finally reached the end, Falcor slowed to a walk and edged toward the opening. Linarra held her breath until Falcor motioned her forward. Then they were running once again, this time through the jungle.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the river,” he answered. “Once you cross it, go to the castle and ask for Yarrow. He’ll know what to do.”
She pulled on his hand to stop. “I don’t want to leave you.”
He sighed and stepped toward her. “I don’t want you to, Linarra, but I don’t have a choice. I will return for you.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him that she could help, but she knew he was only doing what he thought would keep her safe. How could she argue with that?
All her worries over the animals of the jungle vanished as she heard shouts from men who had begun fighting. She felt Falcor’s urgency as he tugged her after him over the terrain.
She could hear the river roaring when Falcor came to a halt and jerked her behind him.
“Running away?” asked a voice Linarra knew all too well.
Falcor’s body tensed. “Never. If you want a fight, Usotae, I’ll be more than happy to accommodate you.”
Usotae laughed. “Oh, I don’t fight, Falcor. Only barbarians do that. Now, why don’t you tell me who you’re hiding behind you? It wouldn’t happen to be Linarra, now would it?”
Linarra moved to stand beside Falcor and glared at the man she hated.
“It is you,” Usotae said in mock surprise. “My, Linarra, you do work fast. I didn’t expect for you to use your charms quite so effectively.”
Falcor’s hand squeezed her arm. “Leave her out of it, Usotae. Your fight is with me.”
“As I said, Falcor, I don’t fight.” Usotae’s smile vanished, replaced by an evil sneer.
Men moved from behind the trees to surround them. Linarra looked at Usotae’s men, shocked that he had found them so quickly.
“I warned you,” Usotae told her. “As we speak, your sister is being executed.”
“You said if any Kellians came to the city she would die. None came.”
He shrugged. “A king can change his mind.”
Linarra lunged toward him, but Falcor grabbed her about the waist and pulled her against him.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “When the fighting starts, run for the river and get across. Don’t stop, and don’t look back.”
He was asking the impossible, but she would do it. For him. With a small jerk of her head as his answer, he released her.
Falcor knew the odds of his survival were slim, but if he could distract all of them and allow Linarra time to make it to the river, she had a good chance of getting across and finding Yarrow.
He stepped in front of her, blocking her from Usotae’s view. A quick glance told him there were twelve Aldvale men. They would rush him at once, giving Usotae the time he needed to chase after Linarra.
Falcor slowly released a breath as he focused on Usotae. He had one chance to end it, one chance to kill Usotae. Linarra’s hands moved against his back, reminding him she was there. He gave her a little push toward the foliage and leapt at Usotae.
Falcor raised his sword, a Kellian war cry sounding from his lips. Usotae’s smile faded as terror widened his eyes. Falcor landed just steps away from him, but before he could get to him, Usotae’s men attacked.
Falcor winced as he felt a blade slice through his tunic and across his back. He stepped and brought his sword down and across to plunge into the man’s stomach.
Before he could withdraw his blade, he saw a weapon come at his head. He ducked and turned to come up behind a guard. Falcor smiled when another Aldvale soldier’s sword sunk into the man.
Falcor pushed the dead guard away and kicked out at the other before the soldier could grab another weapon. Falcor’s foot made contact with the guard’s stomach, doubling him over. Then, Falcor raised his knee, crushing the man’s nose into his head and killing him.
Falcor wiped the blood from his face and spotted Usotae. Pain ripped down Falcor’s back, but he ignored it as he moved toward Usotae.
“Kill him,” Usotae bellowed.
Falcor stopped and moved his gaze around the remaining nine men who seemed more hesitant than before to attack. He didn’t wait to see what they would do. He took another step toward Usotae.
The guards swarmed him. Though he blocked many thrusts from weapons and hands alike, he felt many more sink into his skin. He lifted his arm and swung his sword in a wide arc to the side, slicing a man’s throat.
Falcor gritted his teeth when a blade pierced him, sliding between his ribs. Blood poured down his side. His legs b
egan to buckle, no longer able to hold his weight. He fell to his knees, each breath burning his lungs.
His gaze rose to Usotae’s. The need to kill was strong, so strong that Falcor tried to stand but lost his balance and fell to the ground.
Leaves and limbs slashed at Linarra’s face and arms as she raced through the jungle. Tears blinded her, making it difficult to see. She tripped over a root and landed with a thud on her stomach, her hands barely stopping her face from smashing into another root.
“Falcor,” she whispered.
The river was in front of her, but the sounds of swords clanging made her rise and turn around. Falcor didn’t stand a chance against so many men.
She glanced toward the river and the safety it offered, but she knew she couldn’t go. To live without Falcor would be to live in darkness. She’d rather death than be without him.
Her decision made, she started back toward the man that had stolen her heart, and the vile scum who threatened the happiness she had found.
When she reached the small clearing, she peered through the leaves. Her heart fell to her feet as she took in the scene before her. All of Usotae’s men were either dead or critically wounded, but it was the sight of Falcor lying on the ground with blood soaking his clothes that shook her.
She ran from the foliage and fell down to her knees beside him. She moved aside a lock of flaxen hair streaked with blood and looked into his gray eyes.
“You…were supposed…to leave.”
She bent down and kissed him. “Shh. Don’t worry about that now.”
“Linarra,” he said and shifted his leg toward him.
She looked at her hands and found them covered in blood—Falcor’s blood. He was losing too much. She had to stop it, or he’d die. She turned to rip her skirts when someone grabbed her hair and yanked her away.
“Nay,” she screamed and clawed at the hands that held her.
Usotae wound her hair around his hand until she had no choice but to stand. He leaned close to her ear. “You would save him rather than yourself? You didn’t fall in love with the barbarian, did you?”
Linarra struggled against his hold. “I would. And I did.”
He gave a vicious jerk and punched her in the side. “Hold still, whore.”
Linarra’s gaze moved to Falcor. She could see him weakening with each heartbeat. A tear slipped down her cheek for all that could have been.
“I told you I would kill him,” Usotae boasted.
“You didn’t, you filth,” Linarra sneered. “Remember, you don’t lift a sword. I’ll make sure everyone knows that you were too much of a weakling to fight him yourself.”
A blade pressed against her neck, digging into her skin and bringing a drop of blood that ran down her neck and into the valley of her breasts.
“You won’t be alive to tell anyone anything,” Usotae ground out. “I should have killed you the moment you refused to marry me.”
“If you had, I wouldn’t have been able to save my sister from the mongrel you sent to rape her.”
There was a pause before he forced her head back as far as it would go. “It was you who killed him. I knew it.”
Linarra smiled. “Oh, aye. It was me.”
Falcor gripped the dagu in his hand as he listened to Linarra and Usotae. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open, but he forced himself to stay conscious, for he knew Linarra would need him.
He took a deep breath and pushed past the pain of his body. He focused on Linarra’s face, a face that had come to mean too much to him in a short time. Never had he believed in souls recognizing another, but there was no doubt his soul had known what Linarra was instantly—his mate.
It seemed to take forever, the moment he had waited for. Usotae continued to blab about ways he’d kill Linarra, jerking her hair with every other word. Falcor could see the pain in her eyes and the way her lips pressed into a thin line, but he continued to wait.
He knew the type of man Usotae was. He would move at just the right angle, giving Falcor the time he needed to raise up and use the dagu.
Falcor smiled inwardly, for each time Usotae tugged Linarra’s hair, she stepped away from him, bringing them closer to Falcor. A few more steps was all Falcor needed.
And then it happened.
Usotae pulled Linarra’s hair and turned, leaving his side vulnerable. Falcor gathered all his strength and pushed up on one knee to plunge the dagu in Usotae’s side.
Usotae gasped and stared dumbfounded at Falcor. “You…were dead.”
“Dying,” Falcor said. “Not dead.”
The last of his strength gave out, and he fell onto his back. Blackness blurred his vision, and in the distance he could hear Linarra calling him.
Each breath became more and more difficult to take, and knowing that Usotae was dead and Linarra was free gave him the peace he needed.
“Falcor,” Linarra whispered. She touched his face as the rain began.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
10
No matter how many times Linarra called to Falcor, he didn’t answer. She heard something crashing through the jungle, but she didn’t care if it was more of Usotae’s men or a tougar. Her only thought was Falcor and keeping him alive.
“Let me see,” she heard a voice to her left.
Linarra looked through her tears and the rain to find a man with light brown hair leaning over Falcor.
“Marak,” he called. “We need to get him to the castle immediately.”
The man, Marak, knelt on the other side of Falcor. “Nay, Yarrow. He won’t make it. We need to do something now.”
Linarra picked up Falcor’s hand and held it as Yarrow and Marak began to staunch the flow of blood from Falcor’s many wounds, with the rain helping to wash away the blood. She aided them when she could, but mostly she stayed out of their way. It seemed an eternity before they declared it safe to carry Falcor to the castle.
Even then Linarra didn’t let loose Falcor’s hand. She had to stay connected with him somehow, and the warmth of his hand told her he was still alive.
Inside the castle, Linarra was pushed aside as Falcor’s personal guards and the two men undressed him and bandaged his wounds.
Linarra walked to the window Falcor loved to watch the jungle from. She glanced at her hands to see them still stained with his blood.
“I gather you’re the woman who stole my cousin’s heart?”
She turned to find Yarrow beside her. “Cousin?”
“Aye. Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Yarrow of Shadowhall and designated heir to Kellian.”
Linarra forced a smile. “A pleasure. I’m Linarra, previously of Aldvale.”
“And where do you hail from now?”
She took a deep breath and looked at the rain. “Kellian.”
“It’s a good thing Falcor is so strong then.”
“What?” Her gaze snapped to him. “What do you mean?”
Yarrow grinned. “If there is no fever, he should be all right. He’s lost a lot of blood, but we were able to get to him in time.”
“How is that exactly?”
“How is what?” the man named Marak asked as he walked to them.
Linarra gazed at the blond, blue-eyed man. “How did you get to Kellian so quickly?”
“Shadowhall borders Kellian. Only the river separates us. With Yarrow being cousin to a king, we keep a watch on the river.”
“And Falcor sent me a missive,” Yarrow added.
She shifted her gaze to Marak. “I see. Are you related to Falcor?”
“I’m not so lucky.” Marak gave a grand bow. “I’m Shadowhall’s prince.”
Linarra sank onto the window seat and began to laugh.
“My lady?” Yarrow asked as he took a step toward her, his brow furrowed.
She waved away his words. “I find it rather amusing Usotae thought Kellian so barbaric, so backward, that it never entered his mind that Kellian might be connected to other kingdoms.”
&nbs
p; Marak shrugged. “Usotae should have known better. Some men let the power of their position consume them.”
“And some don’t.” Her gaze moved to Falcor. He looked so pale against the black linens.
“Go to him,” Yarrow urged.
Linarra hurried to his side and took his hand in hers once more. Blood stained his bandages and dark circles ringed his eyes. “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Not when I’ve just found you.”
For days Linarra, Yarrow, and Marak took turns cleaning Falcor’s wounds and changing the bandages. Each day Linarra prayed Falcor would wake and look at her with his lovely gray eyes.
A slight fever took hold of him on the second day, but they were able to keep it down. She didn’t miss the exchange between Marak and Yarrow. They were worried.
Linarra rarely left Falcor’s side. She talked to him, urging him to wake and whispering all the ways she would make love to him. A few times he moaned and turned his head toward her, but not once did he open his eyes.
By the fourth day, Yarrow no longer tried to hide his concern. “Linarra, there’s something wrong.”
“He just needs to rest.” She smoothed back Falcor’s hair and touched his whiskered cheek. “He’ll wake soon.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
She glared at Yarrow. “Are you so hungry to be king you would step into his shoes before Falcor is dead?”
Yarrow stepped back as if slapped. “I don’t want to be king. I never have, but as the only heir, I am named. I’d much rather he marry you and sire a dozen children to take my place.”
“I’m sorry.” Linarra laid her head on the bed and sighed. “I just don’t understand why he won’t wake.”
Marak rested a hand on her shoulder. “He had several wounds. I’ve seen men die from less, but Falcor is strong and he has much to live for. Don’t give up hope.”
Hope was all Linarra had been living off of since she had seen Falcor lying on the ground. She wasn’t about to let go of it yet.
She let her eyes close, intending to rest them for just a moment. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she was woken by something tugging her hand. Linarra raised her head from the pillow of her arms to find Falcor’s fingers moving against hers.
