Warrior's Curse

by Cara Bristol

  “That’s not something we need to discuss now.” Or ever.

  “I think we do.”

  At the obstinacy in her voice, he sighed. “I am the leader of the Lahon. Kor is the only one with whom I can be myself, and only in private. Among my people, I have no peer. I am above them in status, but my will is below theirs. I serve to ensure their security. You are the princess. You are of another tribe, neither above nor below me.” He could relax with her—when she wasn’t causing him to burn with lust or fear for her safety or ache with yearning for what he could never have. He shouldn’t have spoken, should have pretended the only thing that mattered was lust. And water.

  After they rescued her mother, Reena would remain with her people, while he would return to his. Future contact would be limited to impersonal interactions to oversee aqueduct construction.

  “Garat.” She spoke his name quietly but with a heaviness that said everything.

  Her pity salted the wound. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “I love you, too.”

  His ears burned.

  She loves me!

  She’s kind. Doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

  He turned.

  Her eyes smiled with the truth. “Yes. I love you, too.”

  Ropes of joy and despair twisted into a deep ache. He would yearn for her. Feel her as if she were beside him. But she wouldn’t be.

  Think before you let her go, Meloni had cautioned. Spoken like a man with regrets. How had the healer coped with the separation from his heartmate?

  “I wish we could be together forever and always,” she said.

  “You will be Shara. I lead my people. I do not see how it would be possible.” Unless they failed, and Honna claimed the throne. Then where would Reena go? For her safety, she would have to return with him.

  May the Goddess strike me dead were I to wish for such a selfish thing.

  But if they failed…

  “We’d better hurry,” he said. “Time is running out.” Garat pivoted and charged up the trail.

  * * * *

  Though she wearied after a long day’s hike, it was despondency that weighed her feet as she trudged after Garat into the mating hut. Intimacy and closeness had vanished, and he had become taciturn, making the close-lipped man who’d avoided her early in her captivity seem gregarious by comparison. He avoided looking at her and refused to talk except to grunt monosyllables. Eventually, she’d fallen silent, too. Why should she be the one to try to make conversation?

  Why was he acting this way? He’d said he loved her. She’d returned the sentiment. Shouldn’t that please him? Make him happy? She swiped a tear from her eye and swallowed the lump of misery in her throat.

  Perhaps it is just as well we cannot be together for always if he’s going to behave like this. Who knew the Lahon could be so moody? If Sharona got a little crazy under the influence of the fever, it was nothing compared to the way his emotions swung most of the time. The Goddess had been wise to separate the Sharona and the Lahon. How long could a woman live with a man before she bashed him over the head out of frustration?

  She did not look forward to spending an entire night in a tiny hut with Garat the Speechless.

  With a hard kick, Reena shut the door and plunged the shelter into darkness, transforming his stout form into shadow. “There’s an oil lamp in the corner. About two steps.” Her voice sounded rusty. Strained.

  The shadow didn’t move. Or speak.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Aren’t you going to light it?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong with you anyway?” She charged for the lamp, to light the thing herself.

  He grabbed her. Mashed his mouth against hers, crushing lips against teeth. Through his pantaloons, his erection prodded her leg. Lust ignited, but so did anger. Reena clamped her lips shut and beat at his shoulders with her fists. After ignoring her all afternoon, the inconsiderate, rude lunk wanted to kiss her? To mate?

  She wrenched her mouth away. “Stop it! You have no right—” He seized the opportunity to cover her open mouth and plunge his tongue inside, kissing with a hunger that weakened her knees. Anger, she still had plenty, but she uncurled her fists and grabbed his tunic to draw him closer.

  Only tonight remained. Once they arrived at the palace, dispatched Honna, and saved her mother, they would part. As it was meant to be. They could whittle their hours in a cold war, fighting over something she didn’t understand, or they could build and store memories to carry into the future.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and anger evaporated, leaving naked need.

  In darkness, they stumbled to the cot. Fell on top of it. Fused mouths. Yanked at clothing. But with gentleness, he cupped her face and kissed her eyes, her temples, and her throat. Murmured words of remorse, of regret, of love as he licked away her tears.

  Their last mating. Come tomorrow, shadows of yearning would assume shapes of impossibility. Did he suffer the pang of loss as she did? Was that the cause of his moodiness? She kissed him, giving with her lips and tongue what her position among the Sharona did not permit. Her love. A token stolen from eternity.

  Clothing shed, she pulled the thong from his hair and flung it somewhere, threaded her fingers through the strands. Crackles of electricity sparked in the darkness. He pressed his lips to her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Trailed downward to capture a hardening nipple. She moaned, needing more. He gave it to her, slipping his fingers between her legs and homing in on that treasured spot. Circled as if time did not matter.

  Her stomach fluttered when his soft lips brushed over her skin then went wild when his mouth replaced his fingers. Sharp desire penetrated aching hunger. Moisture pooled. Frissons shot from the nub into her core. Her body arched, seeking more, seeking release, seeking…

  That. She groaned with sublime pleasure when he filled her with his fingers. Stroked needy places inside. Teased. Further shredded her control.

  She clutched at his hair, confused by the cravings. Push him away? Or draw him near? Her hips bucked in delicious torment. Her neck arched. The channel of her womanhood contracted around his fingers. She squeezed her lids shut as ecstasy roared near.

  He pulled away. Not now! Her eyes flew open. The hut was so dark she could see only the shadowy hulk of him. Then came the rasp of his hairy thighs as he nudged her legs wider apart, and she sucked in a shuddering breath of understanding. The smooth rounded crown of his tumescence nudged her opening.

  His exhalation echoed her satisfied hiss as he filled her inch by pleasurable inch. His manroot seemed to swell even more, calling to her womanhood, which responded with an answering pulse. Bodies in sync. Longing mutual. Rapture to be shared. She shoved away knowledge of the fall, of despair wrought by parallel lives never to merge.

  Sadness threatened to undermine desire, so she forced it from her mind. Happiness and pleasure were gifts to be treasured, however fleeting. Rejoice in what you have been given; do not covet what you cannot have.

  Garat’s body moved in hers. “I love you,” he said. In the darkness, she could not see his eyes, but could feel the heat of his gaze.

  “My heartmate. I love you,” she said. Forever. Always.

  His head swooped, and he ravished her mouth, and on his lips she tasted a sweet desire, a salty desperation.

  Thoughts of loss fell away before the swell of ecstasy, its own sweet agony. Bombarded by sensation, she shattered.

  “Yes, Reena, yes,” Garat growled, and he, too, was claimed by the bliss.

  * * * *

  Cradled in the crook of Garat’s arm, Reena fought sleep. The tenor of his steady breathing flowed like music, the heat from his body warmed her, and a pleasant soreness reminded her of pleasures shared. Tomorrow would come soon enough; tonight belonged to them.

  The fates of both their peoples hinged on the morrow’s outcome.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered.

  “Yes.�
�

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  “I fear my mother is dead.” So much time had passed.

  “You and she are of the same blood. I can’t help but think she shares your strength. You fought off Honna’s evil for much longer than this. Don’t give up hope.”

  A measure of her worry ebbed. He was right. Her mother was Shara. One of weak constitution could not hold that position. There was nothing she could do right now anyway.

  “And I promise you, I will ensure Honna pays for all injustice and injury she has caused.”

  He would. His voice resonated determination. “Thank you for helping me.” So many what-ifs bombarded her. What if she hadn’t gone on the manhunt? What if their paths hadn’t crossed? What if he hadn’t taken her hostage?

  Easy questions to answer. She would have died. Honna would have killed her mother next, and no one would have existed to stop her. Only Carinda, however, by herself, she could do little.

  At least they had a chance to save her mother. And she had sampled a taste of happiness and the love of a heartmate to carry forever. Reena closed her eyes. Thank you. I shall not ask for more than I have been given.

  She opened her eyes. “I promise you that whatever happens, I will do everything in my power to ensure the Lahon get water.”

  “I know you will. Thank you,” he said. “You should try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  An uncertain one. “Once we enter the palace, what then?” She couldn’t rest with so much weighing on her mind.

  He sighed. “I’ve been considering how to approach it. If we find Meloni first, he’ll be on the ready to tend to your mother, but we risk tipping off the guards and Honna to our presence. If we rescue your mother first, I doubt it will be long before Honna realizes she is gone, and we may not have a chance to get Meloni.”

  Her stomach sank. She’d realized it would be difficult, but she hadn’t considered the logistics. “So what are we going to do?”

  “Given the choices, we ought to locate your mother first. Get her out of the palace and then go back for Meloni if we can. Is there a place we could hide her?”

  “The cave would be the safest place.”

  “Do the Sharona have another healer?”

  In case they couldn’t free Meloni. He didn’t have to say it. “Yes, but she is only an apprentice. And I do not know where her loyalties lie.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Dew soaked him to the skin while branches and brambles hooked and tugged on his pantaloons as they fought overgrown brush. It hampered their speed but boded well that the cave entrance remained undiscovered. So hidden they couldn’t find it. Garat had gotten the impression they’d gone in circles. Hadn’t they passed that forked tree already? “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “I think so.” Reena halted, planted her hands on her hips, and then pointed. “There!”

  He squinted. “I don’t see anything.”

  “The three rocks. That’s the entrance.” She grinned.

  Two fist-sized stones topped a flat one the size of a large cooking pot. “I never would have noticed that,” he said.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve been here, I’m surprised the rocks are still here. I marked it when I was child. To avoid my duties, I would sneak out of the palace and the village. Irresponsible of me.”

  “Perhaps the Goddess guided you, wanted you to find the passageway,” he suggested.

  “Nice thought,” she said. “But I doubt that is so.”

  “You acted no differently than any other child would have.” His adventures had given his poor father no end to grief. As an adolescent, each evening for a fortnight he’d sneaked into a neighboring tribe’s settlement and stolen a goat. Before his prank was discovered, his tribesmen had eaten four of them. The escapade had caused enmity between the two peoples even after reparations.

  “I am the princess. Much is expected of me.”

  “Did you steal any goats?” he asked.

  She frowned. “No.”

  “Then don’t worry about it.”

  “What do goats have to do with anything?”

  “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. You will provide for your people when you are Shara. Until then, you are simply you.”

  She looked unconvinced but didn’t argue and instead, jerked her head toward the dense brush. “We’d better proceed.”

  He laid a quick, hard kiss to her mouth for luck. “Let’s go.”

  Reena shoved aside the branches to reveal the waist-high cave entrance. They would have to stoop to enter. “How long is the tunnel?” he asked.

  “Perhaps two miles. It is larger inside.” She peered up at him. “You’ll be able to stand—for most of the way.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Ducking her head, she hunkered into the cave. Swatting at spider webs, Garat crouched, almost on all fours, and followed. Once inside, he could stand upright, although the ceiling hung low enough to touch without stretching.

  A flash of light exploded.

  Reena held a fiery torch and raised it high, revealing a cavern with jagged gray stone walls. In one corner, animal bones lay in a pile, while a heap of dried dung graced another corner. The princess hadn’t been the only creature to use the cave.

  More worrisome was the ceiling blackened from soot and the cache of torches and a tinderbox. He inclined his head toward the stockpile. “You brought those?” He hoped.

  “Something else I’m not proud of. I took them from storage a few at a time thinking no one would notice.” She expelled a guilty-sounding breath.

  Garat lifted one shoulder. “It’s not a crime for the princess to take a couple of torches. They all belong to you anyway.”

  “The quarter mistress was accused of misappropriating supplies. I said nothing because I would have had to explain why I’d taken them—and then I wouldn’t have been able to leave the palace.”

  He could tell there was more to the story. “What happened?”

  “No one could prove she was responsible, so she wasn’t disciplined, but for a long time she remained under suspicion. She’s a pensioner now, living in the village somewhere.” A spark lit her gaze. “When this ends, I shall confess to the queen, and find the quarter mistress and apologize.”

  “That’s a good idea.” If only to assuage her guilt. But first they had to conquer the biggest evil of all.

  He lit a torch from hers and gestured. “Lead the way.”

  As the tunnel wound underground, it narrowed and expanded, sometimes widening to room-sized chambers, other times shrinking to the degree that the stone walls scraped at his skin despite sucking in his breath. During one, fortunately short, section, he had to hunch over. The air wasn’t as stale and dank as he had expected. He found out why when a shaft of light filtered down to the tunnel floor. Above he spied a sliver of blue sky. “There are gaps!” he exclaimed.

  “Treacherous ones,” she said. “From above, they are holes in the ground. Step in one unaware and you could break an ankle.”

  Or discover the tunnel. Torch light flickered on the gray walls, smooth in some places, rough in others as if the stone had been chiseled away. Perhaps the cave was a natural phenomenon that had been enhanced.

  “Are you sure no one knows about this?” If the passage extended into the hamlets and under the palace, it left the Sharona vulnerable. Before meeting Reena, he would not have hesitated to use it.

  “I’m pretty sure,” she said. “The torches were where I left them the last time I was here.”

  He would encourage the queen to destroy the tunnel system. It left the Sharona too vulnerable to invasion. He could not rest with Reena’s safety in jeopardy.

  He crouched to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, which had lowered. Their torches flickered. Ropey vines dangling from above slapped at his face, and he peered upward at a gap allowing the plants to trail inside. “That’s big enough to be an entrance.”

  “It is,” she said. “I’ve used
it before. We’ve gone under the walls into the village now. We shouldn’t talk much. We might be overheard.”

  The tunnel ceiling rose, but the sides tapered, and he was forced to scrape through sideways, snagging his tunic on the rough walls.

  “How are you doing?” she called in a loud whisper. Much smaller than he, she was hindered little.

  The space narrowed to a crevice. He exhaled to squeeze through. “No problem.”

  Finally, the tunnel opened up and forked. Reena gestured to the right. “That passage goes to the garden.” She veered left. “This opens up under the palace itself. Not much farther now.”

  Tunnel walls grew smoother, as if they’d been sanded. His hunch that the tunnel had been artificially enhanced found proof in brackets protruding from the walls. Torch holders. Somebody sometime had used this passage and transformed a natural cavern into a byway. He found it hard to imagine the Sharona working the stone. The Lahon? Perhaps eons ago when their tribes were one, the males had used it.

  A roughly chiseled set of stairs materialized. “To my mother’s chamber,” she said.

  * * * *

  “Reena, is that you?” The shaky, weak voice lilted on hope.

  Honna glided to the bed and peered at the shivering lump under the embroidered linen duvet. “No, Auntie, it’s me.” A goblet, empty except for a few leafy dregs, rested on the adjacent table. Excellent.

  The queen attempted to rise to a sitting position. Honna let her struggle to expend energy before shoving a pillow behind her back. One more extra-potent dose should do the trick. Victory. So near.

  Ellynna rubbed her eyes with a trembling hand. “I must have been dreaming. I felt Reena’s presence so strongly. She—she told me she was coming. That she would make me well. Then I awoke, and I sensed her. It was like she was right here. They say the Goddess communicates through dreams. Do you think that is true?”

  “Sometimes, but not this time. The”—Honna braced herself—“the Goddess”—a fiery pain blazed through her withered right arm—“would not lie.” Since the extraction of the crystal, her arm from the elbow down had begun to shrivel and blacken. To those brave enough to ignore her scowl and inquire about it, she informed them she’d been injured in her fight against the Lahon to save Reena. The limb had lost all sensation, except for the burning, which worsened whenever she mentioned the deity by name.