Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around Ariel and pulled her back. Her heart pounded in absolute terror as the rider sped past, narrowly missing her. One instant more and she’d have been crushed beneath the hooves of his rushing horse.
“Dammit, woman, what are you trying to do? Kill yourself? I promise you, there are much less painful ways to die!”
Ariel laughed nervously in relief, grateful Valteri had been there to catch her from her folly. “Thank you!” She placed her hand over his arm that he still had wrapped protectively around her waist.
His grip loosened, but he didn’t free her. “You should be more careful,” he said, his voice strangely gentle.
To her complete shock, he leaned his cheek against her head for the briefest moment and then must have realized what he’d done, for he shot away from her so quickly that she actually stumbled.
With a stern glower, he swept his gaze over her body. “I trust you weren’t hurt?”
Though his tone was sharp, she saw the relief in his bicolored eyes and had to force herself not to smile. To have someone that handsome hold her like that again and be this concerned, she’d gladly hurl herself under a hundred horses. “Just my pride, milord. Nothing else.”
He looked away from her as if her gratitude made him uncomfortable. “Pray tell, milady, what was of such great import that you near rushed yourself into death?”
All her fear and uncertainty vanished as her happiness returned. She stepped forward and touched the long blond braid he had draped over his left shoulder. “I wanted to tell you first that I remembered myself! My past! All of it!”
He pulled the braid out of her reach and tossed it over his shoulder, his eyes dull and somehow sorrowful. “’Tis glad news, indeed.”
Odd, he didn’t sound happy.
Rather dismal, point of fact.
“Nay,” Ariel said breathlessly, too relieved and giddy to allow him to dampen her joy. She spun in a small circle, arms outstretched. “’Tis incredible!”
Leaning her head back, she watched the sky spiral in a blue and white montage. Her laughter bubbled up through her and she felt as free as the gentle breeze rustling through the bailey. She had a thousand memories of everything! It was the most incredible thing ever!
“Milady, please!” Valteri reached out to stop her dance. “All who watch will think you mad!”
Giggling, she surrendered herself once more to his arms. With one last laugh, she looked up at him, delighting in the feel of his chest against hers. “I care not what they think. I’m too happy to care about their judgment.”
A dark, worried shadow leapt into his oddly colored eyes. There was a peculiar panic to him, but for her life she couldn’t imagine why he was so concerned.
“Why does my happiness sadden you?”
He swallowed hard. “Because those who claim sanity are the ones who are insane and they will attack like mad dogs if they think for one moment you’ve lost your reason. Trust me.” Releasing her, he stepped away again.
His words were underscored with a palpable anger. He spoke from his own memories and that made her want to soothe the ache inside him.
What had they done to him in the past?
Here she was rejoicing the return of her memories when it was obvious that he wanted to banish his own. The irony of that wasn’t lost on her.
“People aren’t all evil, Valteri.”
He scoffed at her. “That hasn’t been my experience.” He glanced around the yard. “They’re selfish. Cruel. Mean.”
“You’re not like that.”
“Says a woman standing before a man who has butchered hundreds of others.”
“In battle.”
“Does it matter?”
“You were fighting for your life.”
Again, that inward hatred darkened his gaze. “Does it matter?” he repeated.
“My father was a warrior and a gentle man. You can be both.” She smiled at him. “Now I know why I’ve been so drawn to you. You remind me of my father.”
His scowl deepened. “You drove him crazy, too?”
She laughed. “All the time. Or so he said. Just as you do.” Giddy, she twirled around him once more. “You’ve no idea of the relief I feel. How much it means to know myself again.”
Valteri shook his head as he watched her. It wasn’t true. He did know her relief. He’d felt it the day he’d left that fucking monastery. His only regret had been that he’d not razed it to the ground.
But that first smell of air outside its dank, repressive walls …
That had been heaven. Even the stench of a blood-and-piss-soaked battlefield had been better.
How he wished he had the courage of the maid before him. She didn’t care what others thought. While he liked to pretend he didn’t, their scorn still bothered him. Still wounded his soul. Just once, he’d like to know acceptance.
Stupid dream. Yet everyone had that deep-rooted desire.
No wonder she danced with such exuberance now. She knew her place and had her identity back. “I suppose you’ll be leaving now with your brother.”
She paused to look at him. “Still trying to get rid of me, are you?”
He shrugged. “I should think you’d be tired of my oafish company.”
“You’re far from an oaf or the boor you think are.” She approached him pertly. “I rather like your company.”
All the blood rushed to his groin. Damn his body for it. Every day it grew more difficult not to drag her to his bed and find out what it would be like to make love to a woman so passionate and warm. “Careful, milady. When you tilt against a dragon, you could find yourself burned.”
Ariel reached out to finger the embroidery on his surcoat. A playful smile curved her lips. “Dragons seldom harm maids. I’m told they sneak them away to their lairs to keep them safe.”
Indeed, that was exactly what he wanted to do with her.
And against all common sense, Valteri was just about to reach for her when another rider stormed through the bailey.
“Milord!” He skidded to a halt just before them. “There’s been an accident at the castle’s construction site!”
His heart skipped a beat as everyone in the bailey came running at the news.
Valteri cursed. “Were any hurt?”
“Aye, milord. I know not how many. They were still digging men out of the rubble as I left to fetch you.”
Valteri clenched his teeth. “Wace! My horse!”
Ariel stared at him, amazed at the hostility in his voice, but he betrayed no other sign of fury. How could anyone keep themselves so controlled all the time?
Just like her father. He, too, had possessed a righteous fury that had forever simmered deep inside him.
When he started past her toward his horse, Ariel took his arm. “Let me come with you. I can help.”
His taut muscles relaxed beneath her grip, then quickly grew even more rigid and unyielding. She held her breath, certain he’d refuse.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Ask one of the women for herbs.”
“Thank you.” Ariel ran off toward the hall.
At the steps she met the old, withered crone who’d frightened her on her arrival. Uncertainty filled her.
That part of her memory was still missing.
Why do I know you?
This wretch was important for some reason. The crone hated her. She knew it, but why couldn’t she remember?
“Here, milady.” The old woman extended a faded brown burlap sack to her. “Everything you need is in this.”
That expression …
Only there had been hatred in her eyes.
Why couldn’t she place the woman? She remembered so much of her past, but suddenly she realized great, giant holes still existed. Gaps that left her uneasy and reticent.
In that moment, she felt as if her very life depended on her remembering why this woman was critical to her past.
Her hands cold and trembling, Ariel reached for the bag. “My thanks.”
“Ariel!”
She turned at Valteri’s urgent shout. Though it should irritate her, it didn’t. She more than understood the urgency, and she shouldn’t be dawdling while others were in need. Rushing to him, she had to admit that he looked magnificent astride his horse, with the sunlight glinting against his short-sleeved mail hauberk that accentuated every bulge and curve of his well-muscled body. Aye, he was a handsome man. More beguiling than any she’d ever seen.
Unsure if her breathlessness came from her short run or his presence, she quickly mounted the palfrey he had waiting for her.
Valteri barely gave her time enough to situate herself before he kicked his horse into a dead run.
Ariel followed behind, wrestling with her mount. Her mind told her that she’d ridden thousands of times before, but for her life, her body denied it. The reins felt strange in her hands, and she couldn’t recall much about controlling the beast.
Nothing about this seemed familiar, in spite of what her mind told her. It was like trying to ram a peg into an unfamiliar hole. No matter how hard she tried, it was all she could do to stay in her saddle. With every stride of the horse, she expected to find herself falling headlong onto the ground.
Terror filled her. And just as she felt herself slipping, she was snatched from her saddle and pulled against a steely wall.
Valteri didn’t say a word as he slid back to make room for her in his lap.
Heat stung her cheeks. Not just because she was mortified that he’d been forced to rescue her again, but at the fact that she’d been so incompetent. Why couldn’t she do the most basic tasks that others did without thinking?
What is wrong with me?
If she had memories of riding, why didn’t she seem to know how to do it?
“Thank you, my lord.”
His response was a gruff, noncommittal sound that brought a smile to her lips as his actions forever belied his stern demeanor.
If Valteri the Godless was the beast others thought him to be, he wouldn’t bother with the likes of her. He’d have left her behind and without caring whether or not she fell. Instead, he’d saved her dignity and her hide.
There was a lot more to him than others credited. Too bad they couldn’t take the time to see what they were missing.
He wasn’t just a mindless killer.
And that reality was brought home to her the moment they reached the top of the hill less than a league from the hall, and she saw the horror of what had happened.
Why he’d been in such a rush to get here.
Bile stung her throat at the sight of the mangled men who lay bleeding on the ground, moaning and praying for help and relief. Their pain and misery brought tears to her eyes while Valteri lowered her from his saddle. A wash of terror went through her.
Not from fear.
Nay. Not fear. Because this, this was familiar. Why? There was something about their dying that felt as freakishly normal as her holding a sword.
What is wrong with me?
Why would this be normal and riding be alien? That cold slap in the face kept her feet fastened to the spot where she stood.
Leaping from his horse, Valteri rushed toward one of the fallen men and knelt beside him. The older man was covered in blood and gasping for breath. His body was in pieces.
She wanted to say that she’d never seen anyone so badly injured and yet …
In her mind, she knew she had.
Where?
How?
Valteri cradled him gently. “Master Dennis, what happened?”
Ariel couldn’t see the man’s face, but his weak voice drifted to her. “Mortar … for the ramparts … the rope broke.”
She glanced over to the section of wall that had collapsed onto the poor workers. Large chunks of stone lay around the field like the broken hearth of some legendary giant.
“Help me.…”
A chill went down her spine at the familiarity of that call.
The frail, agonized voice took her attention from the wall. Ariel scanned the men until she saw a youth of no more than thirteen summers lying on the ground nearby, curled into a ball and crying.
Without a second thought, she rushed to him and knelt by his side. He was just a boy. Blood soaked his pale head from a gash just behind his left ear and a large metal spike protruded from his side.
So much pain in that boyish face. She had seen this before. Had been by someone else’s side.
Just like this. It haunted her.
And her heart ached for him. No child deserved to have something like this happen before he had a chance to live. He should be out playing and laughing with friends in the meadows or woods. Not working like a grown man to earn coin for his family.
His pain-filled gaze met hers. “Have you come for me, milady?”
A chill stole up her spine at the familiarity of those words.
She’d heard them before, too.
On the edge of her mind she glimpsed a familiar image, but it vanished before she could make it form fully.
Forcing herself to fight against her rising panic, she took his hand and comforted him. “I’ve come to help you.”
He smiled, his eyes lighting for just a flicker of a heartbeat, then all the glow of life drained slowly from them until she stared into the dullness of death.
He expelled his last breath.
No! Not this child!
Choking on a sob, Ariel dropped his hand and recoiled in horror as a million different images went through her mind. Her breath caught in her throat. She saw people clinging to her in fear and gratitude, the treetops far below her as she …
As she—
“Ariel?”
She blinked at Valteri’s soft call. Fierce pain ripped through her body, twining around her heart as if it would devour the organ and leave her every bit as dead as the child before her.
How could anything hurt this much? How?
Valteri reached out and wiped away the one tear that had escaped her control and fled down her cheek to chill the skin there.
“Be strong, milady,” he said gently. “These men need you.”
Men need you. Those words hung like a whisper in the clouds of her mind. Phantom ghosts, taunting her with images she couldn’t quite make out.
It was important that she remember. She knew it with every fiber of her being.
“Milady?”
Valteri’s voice broke through her haze. He was right, she must help the rest. They were in agony and that was much more important than chasing after the ghosts she couldn’t catch. She’d have time to deal with that later.
For now, she needed to focus on the living.
Pushing herself up from the cold ground, Ariel made her way toward the next man who needed urgent care.
With the help of Valteri and several others, she spent the next few hours setting bones and applying poultices. Her stomach churned in painful knots with each beat of her heart until she feared she’d go mad from the stench of blood, and the sight of grisly injuries, some of which she knew were mortal.
She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she could tell exactly which of the men would live.
And who was going to die.
Still, she tended them, offering them whatever solace she could.
And while she went through the routine of tending the hopeless, those were the hardest to help, because she knew it was a lie. They were doomed and there was nothing she could do for them, other than try to ease their final hours as best she could.
It hurt so much to watch them die.
Why was this so familiar to her?
Over and over, she kept seeing herself walking among the dying. Being aloof.
Why would I not care?
“Here.” Valteri stopped her as she reached to bandage another gaping wound. “I’ll finish this one. You should take a moment and rest yourself.”
In spite of her need to stay and help as many as she could, Ariel nodded and dutifully handed him her poultice.
Honestly, she needed the break. And while he probably did, too, she was feeling a bit selfish and had to take it.
If only for a moment.
Grateful to him, she patted his arm and rose.
Valteri watched her leave, a strange lump tightening his throat at the way she moved. So graceful and elegant even while covered in blood. All through the afternoon, he’d been amazed by her fortitude and control.
By the fact that she hadn’t flinched no matter how grisly the injury.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected much when she’d first offered to come along. Most noblewomen would have retched and been useless in such a situation.
Too good to get their hands dirty with the blood of common men.
Not Ariel. She hadn’t given a single thought to the birth station of anyone she treated.
He’d listened intently to the soft cadence of her voice while she offered comfort and assurances to those who were aching, regardless. She’d eased the men and their loved ones the same effortless way she soothed the pain lurking in the blackness of his own heart, and that mystified him.
How did she always know what words to say?
Conversation had never come easy for him. Words of comfort were even more difficult.
Yet she had no problem speaking to any and everyone. As if they were old friends.
She respected everyone. Never had he met her equal.
And that made him respect her. More than anyone, including his brother.
Until her, nothing had ever lightened his sour mood. And why should it? Life was miserable. Everything about it. From cradle to grave, it was an unending test of who could screw whom the hardest and fastest and get away with it. There was never anyone who could be trusted.
Friend became foe, and foe became lethal.
She’ll turn on you, too. Just as everyone else has.
Aye, that was a pathetic fact of life that he mustn’t let himself forget.
Clenching his teeth against the burning ache that spread through his gut, Valteri started sewing the wound of the unconscious man. He didn’t need the softness of a woman. He was a warrior, fierce and hard, raised by the back of an angry fist. No one had ever comforted him and he had no wish to change his life.
Liar.
Valteri paused at the voice in his head, so crisp and loud it seemed to come from another source than his own mind.
But it wasn’t a lie. He could never allow himself to fall victim to anyone. Not for any reason. He’d been there and done that, and had no desire to repeat it. His days of being made a fool or being preyed upon were over. There was nothing worth the risk of it.
In this world, there was only one person who wouldn’t betray him.
One person who would never put a knife in his back.
Himself.
People were heartless and they were cold. To protect themselves, mothers would betray their own children. Fathers would cut the throats of their own sons.
He’d seen it too many times.
His own parents had done it to him.
Under no circumstances could he ever allow himself to forget that.
She would sell him out in a heartbeat.
I’m nothing to her.
With three quick stitches, he finished the wound and knotted the thread, then cut it with his dagger.
Needing a break himself, he left the area with the wounded. He scanned the landscape around him, stopping when he saw Ariel sitting on a piece of fallen stone not far away, her expression pensive and pained.
The sight of her beauty there hit him like a fist to the gullet. Worse, it made him harder than hell and sent an image to his mind that the priests would damn him for.
Not that he wasn’t already damned. Besides, his mind usually ran on inappropriate thoughts. And the gods knew that Ariel put the most inappropriate thoughts of all time in his mind.
Damn it. Why did he covet her so much when he knew better? His past and his deformity would never allow him the comfort of a wife. Nor could he ever risk passing his deformity on to any child or the stigma he carried to a spouse. Last thing anyone needed was to be called a godless monster because they were in his proximity.
Wounds of the flesh healed. He barely recalled what they’d done to him physically.
It was the insults that never went away. Those harsh words that continued to let blood for years after they were uttered. Words that resonated to the soul. That was what haunted him, no matter what he accomplished.
No matter how strong he grew.
Their words still shredded and gutted him.
Demon they might have accused him when he’d been a boy, but those wretched bastards were far more insidious and demonic than he could ever be.
Unlike them, Ariel was gentleness incarnate. One who deserved so much more than he could ever offer. He had no understanding of love, or kindness of any sort. What could he really give her?
The scorn of people who called him monster and ran at the first sign of his approach?
A cabbage to the head when she wasn’t looking?
God knew his brain was rattled enough by such a lobbing, and he wore a helmet. Her tender noggin would never withstand such vicious onslaughts, and he’d gut anyone who dared such an affront to her and tie their innards around their neck for sport.
And that was mild compared to what he’d do to anyone who ever threatened or harmed any child he might one day father.
He flinched at the thought of his child sharing his godforsaken eyes.
Mayhap his enemies were right after all. Demons dreamed of corrupting young innocents, and ever since the moment he’d first laid eyes upon her, he’d had few thoughts save peeling that soft kirtle from her body and making merry with her sweet alabaster skin. Of sinking himself deep inside her until he was lost there for hours on end.
His body ached with the weight of his desire. If he had one moral or decent part left inside him, he’d order both her and her brother from his lands.
Ban them for eternity.
But that was the last thing he wanted to do.
And Valteri scoffed at the very thought of his humanity. Had there ever been any part of him born decent, Brother Jerome had beat it out of him long ago and hung it up on the monastery wall for his amusement. Now, all that was left was a bitter, angry warrior who wanted nothing from this world.
Just a way out as soon as possible.
Sadly, he had yet to meet a man capable of giving him what he wanted most.
Stupid, incompetent bastards. Not a one of them seemed to be able to run him through.
A clap of thunder rent the air, ushering in a sudden, violent wind. He looked up at the sky, amazed at the swiftness of the storm. Dark clouds gathered with an eerie darkness that changed the entire appearance of the landscape.
He hurried to help load the wounded onto wagons to carry them back to their homes in and around the village.
As the last wagon rumbled away, he turned back to the vision who haunted him, waking and sleeping.
Ariel now stood at the edge of the hill, looking out onto the valley below. The winds whipped her dress against her body, plastering the material against her curves so that they outlined each and every bit of her slim posture, leaving little to his imagination. That sight made his mouth water and his body hunger for her even more.
He willed his insatiable lust into submission before it drove him to madness. He must get her back to the hall before the storm drowned them both.
“Ariel,” he called.
She ignored him.
Frowning, Valteri made his way to her side.
So much of what she did perplexed him. The way she moved as if all things were new to her, almost childlike, and yet there was nothing childish about her.
He started to touch her arm, then stopped himself. She stared out into nothing, and yet her eyes were focused, not dazed.
“Do you smell it?” Her voice was a faint whisper.
“Smell what?”
“’Tis sweet like a summer garden, yet the bitterness of death and fear contaminate the very vial of life.”
His frown deepened at her words. He knew not of what she spoke. “How do you mean?”
She didn’t move. “You think me mad.”
A chill went down his spine. Could she read his thoughts? “Not mad, milady, just confused.” Although, in all honesty, he was beginning to wonder about her sanity.
Or if she was a witch.
You don’t believe in that bullshit.
At least he never had before. Yet how else could he explain all this? There was something ethereal about her. Something not quite natural or of this world.
Truth was, he did feel bespelled by her.
Witchcraft was an easy explanation as to why he was captivated by her when no other woman had ever lured him this way.
Don’t be an idiot.
He’d always disdained others for those ridiculous thoughts. Only a simpkin believed in such foolery, and he refused to be a hypocrite now.
Demons, fey, and witches. Preposterous fabrications, all to explain the treachery that lived in the hearts of mankind. Better to blame the devil than admit that each man and woman was basically an evil bitch out to smite the very ones they were supposed to love and protect. To admit that instead of being grateful, people were bitter guttersnipes who used those around them for their own personal gain, and then cut the throats of those they called friend, lover, and family as soon as they were done with them.
People were so dishonest that they couldn’t even own up to their own nature. They had to invent fey and others just to have an imaginary scapegoat for their cruelty.
It was always someone else’s fault. I’m not beating you because I’m a monster. It’s your fault or the devil’s that I’m abusing you. I’m doing this for your own good. It’s to save your soul for some imaginary god or demon who doesn’t give two shits about you, or else I’d have a seizure and die while in the midst of my heartless barbarity.
He knew that for a fact.
Yet when she looked at him, the torment in her eyes took the very breath from his body and disarmed him completely. She made him want to believe that she wasn’t like the rest of the world. That maybe, just maybe she actually had a soul in her body and a heart to back it.
Could this beautiful, innocent kitten turn as rabid as all the others?
Dare he chance it?
She sighed heavily. “I’m so confused. My mind tells me one thing, yet my body says it lies. It’s as if the two are enemies waging war against each other and ’tis my soul that serves as prize. Or mayhap my sanity itself.”
Valteri wanted—nay, needed—to touch her, but he couldn’t trust himself to reach out to her. Not when she stood this close to him and he was already this weak.
She was a vicious lure for him. One that made him almost believe there was a devil tempting him to damnation.
What else could explain his reckless disregard of all the lessons he’d learned in his life about the treachery of people.
Do not trust her.
“I know of what milady speaks.”
Frustration darkened her brow and she turned back to scan the scenery below. “Nay, this isn’t desire. I know the effects of that emotion and it’s not as though I don’t feel it. I have only to look at you to know that.”
Those words shocked him to the core of his being. No woman had ever confessed such a thing before. Not even in his dreams.
“Please,” she whispered without looking at him. “What troubles me is much more than that. Deeper. My memories tell me that I know things, and have done things that are impossible. Things I can’t remember having truly experienced. What I see in my mind can’t be right. I know it makes no sense. And I…”
She rubbed her hands over her face, her expression one of sheer torture. “Am I deranged?”
His own memories surged. As did a fear that he’d repressed since his boyhood. “Don’t ever say that to another soul, Ariel.” He growled the words. “Do you understand? People will do unspeakable things to you if they think you mad.”
And he didn’t want to see her put through the hazards they’d dragged him through.
In spite of every argument that told him to stay as far away from her as he could—to head south to France or even as far as Italy to avoid her and the confusing feelings she awoke inside him—Valteri stepped forward to offer her comfort.
She looked up at him with a guileless frown that tugged at his heart. Aye, this was hell on earth.
For she was all he’d ever wanted.
And everything he could never have.
“But between us, I doubt that anyone is truly sane.” If he were, he’d run as far away as he could.
Yet here he stood like a total imbecile.
Rain burst from the dark clouds, unleashing huge drops that pelted them like angry stones.
“Come, milady. Fear no more for your mind. Everything will come to you, given time.”
She looked up at him, her eyes trusting and large, and nodded. How did she manage to see him when no one else did? Others stared at him with fear and suspicion.
But never her.
Unused to such trust and tenderness, he felt the last of his resistance fall. It left him naked and vulnerable to her. He hated it. Most of all, he resented the power it gave her over him.
Damn that last shred of humanity that he’d never quite banished. How could it not have been beaten out of him by now? How could there be anything left inside his heart other than pure hatred and disdain?
Yet somehow she’d found some shriveled-up part of his decency, and breathed a life into it that he’d have denied three heartbeats ago.
The rain fell harder, pelting him more, but he didn’t care.
Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck a section of the wall beside them. So close, it barely missed where they stood.
Valteri pulled back in shock, his gaze drawn to the scorched stone that smoldered less than a foot from him.
That had been too close. He needed to get her to safety before the storm turned even more violent.
Or he became more stupid.
Taking her hand, he pulled her toward their horses, then swung her up into the saddle of her palfrey. As soon as he was mounted on his own horse, he reached for her reins so that he could lead her back toward the hall as quickly as possible.
The storm was brutal. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the weather had a grudge against him to match that of the rest of the world. It was an all-out onslaught that almost matched the Saxon rebellion he’d been battling these many months past.
Just as he topped the rise that marked the halfway point to the manor, a scream rang out behind him. He turned to see Ariel slipping from her mount.
Valteri tried to catch her, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Damn the weight of her heavy woolen dress and cloak that had become soaked in the freezing rain!
’Twas like an anchor about her. Terrified she’d been injured in the fall, he slid down to where she lay on the ground, unmoving.
Her hair hung in her pale face, making her features appear ghostlike and frail.
All the more terrified, he gently brushed away the strands from her cold cheeks. “Ariel!” he shouted over the howling winds and rain, his fear making him unreasonable as he cradled her against him.
Valteri did his best to rub warmth into her skin, but his own hands were every bit as freezing. “Ariel?” he breathed. “Look at me!” Then he gentled his voice. “Please.” He hated the sound of that ragged, desperate plea. Almost as much as he hated the ache in his chest from the fear that she might be hurt.
She coughed and opened her eyes. “I can’t keep my mount.” Her low tone barely reached him through the whipping winds. “’Tis too slippery.”
Valteri almost smiled as relief flooded him. Grateful she wasn’t harmed, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his horse.
Ariel gasped at the ease with which Valteri placed her in his saddle and swung up behind her to settle himself there before his arms encircled her in a warm anchor. With a low, deep, guttural command, he took the reins of his horse and hers and spurred them forward.
The fierce power of the horse beneath her, and the man who held her, reverberated through her entire body. They were a united force to be reckoned with and it was obvious that the two of them had been together long enough that they were practically one beast. Which made sense. In battle, their lives depended on each other.
Total trust.
This was probably the only living creature Valteri had ever had that bond with. Everyone else had let him down. She didn’t know where that thought came from, but she held no doubt it was true.
He’d been betrayed at every turn.
Starting with his own mother.
So have you.
That inner voice gave her pause. The memories that had come back to her contradicted it. Yet the feeling she had inside verified what she thought.
She’d known betrayal.
But who?
When?
It was so frustrating.
Even more so was the fact that she couldn’t stop shivering. She was so cold that it made her teeth chatter.
Valteri looked down at her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “’Tis the cold.”
He tightened his arms around her, drawing her closer to his hard body. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of sandalwood and rain. Yet as she did so, she saw a peculiar image of him on a battlefield. His armor was stained by blood, his shield scarred from being pounded by men trying their best to kill him.
But what held her attention was the fury and torment that burned deep in his bicolored eyes. There was a madness to his actions as he tore through the other soldiers. One borne by a man who’d been kicked too many times by his life and by others seeking to lay him low.
She could feel his weariness. His disgust.
His need to give as good as he got. To pay them all back for everything that had ever been done to him.
This wasn’t about battle or war.
It was pure vengeance.
That was what made others fear him so. His ardent desire to lash out at the world and make it feel his wrath over what had been done to him. To make it pay for the injustice of his birth.
It was raw and biting. Tangible. Never had she seen or felt anything like this.
There’s no room in your heart for anything else. You are hatred and blood. That is your curse.
You will never know love or comfort.
Cradle to grave. Like your father. You will be hated.
Gasping, she sat up and almost slipped from his grip. He tightened his hold.
For a mere instant, she saw a clear image of the shadow man who’d been haunting her.
Unlike Valteri, he had dark hair.
But that look of anguished torment and self-hatred …
Identical.
Yet the man wasn’t old enough to be his father. They appeared roughly the same age. Brothers, maybe?
How could that be? But how else could they be so similar in form and demeanor?
A frown creased his brow as they reached the gates of the hall. She didn’t speak. How could she? Ariel wasn’t sure what she’d seen or heard. Or even where it’d come from. He’d think her insane if she spoke it.
I am mad.
That was the only rational explanation. Because now she was hearing other voices whispering to her.
Voices that wanted to show her things …
Dismounting, Valteri helped her down and quickly carried her up the slick steps, into the main donjon.
No one paid much heed as the servants bustled through the hall, tending their chores. Valteri barked at the first one he neared. “Bring milady a tray to her room!”
She arched a brow at him. He didn’t even break his stride. “And you wonder why people fear you so?”
That caused him to return her look in kind. “Feeling cheeky, are you, little mouse?”
“More like a drowned rat.”
Growling deep in his throat, he pushed open the door with his shoulder. “Aye, you are.” He set her on her feet, grabbed the fur cover from the bed, and wrapped her in it. Though his tone remained gruff, his touch was gentle.
She stepped closer to the fire.
“You need to get out of that kirtle.” He opened the small chest beside the bed. “The former lady left several of hers behind when she fled.”
She tsked at him. “My mother warned me of men like you, sirrah.”
“Pardon?”
“Handsome rogues seeking to get me out of my clothes?”
He actually blushed.
Ariel smiled at something that made him even more handsome—as if such a thing were possible. And that image also reminded her of the other man she’d known.
The one who looked like him.
Clearing his throat, he narrowed his gaze on her. “Careful how you tease, lass. There aren’t many men who could resist your beauty. And some would see those words as an invitation.”
Suddenly the door opened behind him so that an old crone could shuffle in. She carried two goblets of warm mulled wine.
Valteri glared at her and her timing, which, though convenient, wasn’t.
The crone attempted a toothless smile. “Forgive me interruption, lord.” She handed him a goblet, then pressed one into Ariel’s hand. “But the drink shall do you both some good, methinks.” She cast a hooded look to Ariel before she quickly scurried away and shut the door behind her.
Ariel followed the woman with her gaze.
Valteri didn’t miss the shadow behind her clear eyes. “She still frightens you?”
She nodded before she drank her wine.
He could well understand that. The old woman was a bit terrifying, as in the type of vision children thought ought to be cooking them up for dinner. Sad to say though, women like her weren’t the scariest things in the world. Rather, his nightmares came from frocked friars and bejeweled bishops. Those he’d been told had his best interests at heart.
A pox to the lot of them.
May they all burn in the hell they used to frighten others into subjugating themselves before them. It was the only reason he hoped such a place existed. Surely if it did, their names were engraved upon its walls, with a special place reserved for them and their hypocrisy and lying tongues that stole the innocence of their poor victims.
Disgusted, Valteri downed the spiced wine in one gulp, barely tasting it. And it did nothing to alleviate his chills from his wet clothes or the haunting nightmares of his past.
Not that anything ever did.
Tired and weary of it all, he headed for the door to give Ariel peace so that she could change.
“Valteri?”
He paused at his name on her lips, the sound cutting through him sharper than a dagger. “Aye, lady?”
She crossed the fathomless gulf that divided them with her endless grace and placed her delicate hand on his steel sleeve. “Thank you for listening to my ravings. And for your patience with me.”
As if showing her patience was hard for him.
Valteri swallowed, unsure of what to say to that. She stood so close to him that he could smell the sweet rose scent of her hair. She was so beautiful in the firelight. So warm and inviting. How he wanted something clever to say that would make her laugh.
But all he knew how to do was make people cry.
And curse him and his parentage.
“Warm yourself, Ariel. When you’re finished with your bath, you can tell me what you remember.”
She nodded, then frowned at him. Her eyes clouded as she staggered back. “I feel so strange suddenly.”
Valteri barely caught her as she crumpled. Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her toward the bed and laid her against the furs. She appeared so pale and fragile, lying there.
His harsh hand swallowed hers as he rubbed it, trying to warm her cold flesh. “Ariel?” A peculiar bluish tint came to her lips.
That wasn’t right.
Terrified she was dying, Valteri rose to get help, but before he could take three steps, his stomach heaved. His vision dimmed. Unable to breathe, he tried to make it to the door.
Until his ears began to ring so loudly he couldn’t hear his frantic heartbeat.
As he reached out to steady himself, his knees buckled and sent him crashing to the floor. Valteri tried to force himself to rise.
He couldn’t. Instead, he lay there with one cheek to the cold stone, facing the fire.
Cecile ran out from under the bed to sniff at his cheeks. His throat dried to a burning thirst and felt as if it would ignite.
He must get help for Ariel. Get up, damn you, you worthless bastard! Move! Closing his eyes, he did his best to summon his strength.
Like everything else in his life, it abandoned him when he needed it most.
Suddenly, Cecile hissed, arching her back. Her tail bushed out. Valteri rolled over to see what had her so distressed. Again, he tried to rise and get help, yet all he could manage was to see a strange shape in the corner. One he’d seen before in his past.
A fleeting memory that was important and one he couldn’t remember.
Then everything fell to black.
Akantheus Leucious Forneus had been born for one purpose only—to be a thorn up the arse of his dark father. At least that was what his father had claimed since the day Thorn had cast down his father’s battle standard, pissed on it, and declared war on the old bastard.
He’d taken teenage rebellion to a whole new level. And who could blame him? Both of his fathers, natural and step, had ruthlessly used him as a tool in wars he’d wanted no part of, and then turned on him the moment he’d ceased to please them. The moment he’d voiced a single idea not theirs.
Fuck it.
They’d shown him no loyalty or love.
So why should they have expected loyalty from him in return? Their hypocrisy was mind-boggling. At what point in his life was he supposed to have learned such sentimentality as familial respect and bonding when all he’d ever known was bitter betrayal and hatred?
Brutality and vengeance.
Contrary to their stupidity, Thorn had been born with a mind of his own and gifted with enough battle skills to make even the war gods envious. Or more to the point, to make them bow down in defeat to him and his ruthless army.
And so he’d been at war with his father ever since he’d cast off his shackles and refused to do his father’s bidding. Had been knee-deep in blood and entrails, and that was fine with him.
He knew no other way.
Not that anything ever changed. He’d been knee-deep in blood and entrails before his rebellion. The only difference now was he protected humanity instead of slaughtering them.
Though some days, he wondered why he bothered. Indeed, there were times when it was hard to tell mankind from the demons who fought for his father.
Like now. The humans among his rank and file were every bit as cruel and cold. Some days, they were even worse.
“Pull back!” he shouted at his men. The demonic army was advancing and he was losing too many.
No need to see any more fall.
Belial was a vicious bitch who lived for the blood and gore. Always had been. And these were dark days for humans.
“Where are our reinforcements?”
Thorn scoffed at the question from his second-in-command. “We’ve been abandoned.”
Hugh turned pale. That was a new look for the seasoned warrior, not that Thorn blamed him. Anyone with common sense would be pissing his armor right now.
“Hellchasers, fall back!” he cried, hoping to save as many as he could.
Damn Belial for this.
Thorn flinched as he saw an entire segment of his right flank go down. It’s what you deserve, you bastard. Had he not banished his son to Le Terre Derrière le Voile, Cadegan would have been able to rout Belial’s forces without so much as a second thought. He was the only knight equal to Thorn’s prowess.
Now …
Thorn was getting his arse kicked and not liking it in the least. And Cadegan was suffering a fate worse than death because Thorn couldn’t bring himself to be merciful enough to kill his own child even for the benefit of mankind.
Damn me for it.
Hugh growled as he fought back another demon. “What has ruptured the balance?”
Killing his own target, Thorn ground his teeth. He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that their enemies were growing stronger and they were dwindling in numbers.
Something was feeding Belial and if they didn’t discover it soon, it would be too late.
For the first time in centuries, Thorn feared he might actually lose this war.
And his own life in the process.
Dammit! He had to get to the bottom of this and find out what was going on.
Spurring his horse, he rushed up the hill, out of the sight of his men. There was no need in letting a human know what was actually leading them, as they’d never be able to handle it. Nor could he explain it to them.
But when things got this messy, he needed an answer, and he was through playing this shit.
His brethren might be assholes, but he still had a few who weren’t totally his enemies.
Glancing back toward the army he led, he made sure none could see him. Then he dismounted from his horse and unfurled his wings.
“Don’t any of you bastards shoot me.” That would be his luck. Wounded by one of his own who mistook him for the demons they were fighting.
Dodging arrows, he flew over the battlefield and did his best not to focus on his men who lay dead or dying.
Damn Belial for it.
There was no sense in this latest uprising. Malcontent assholes. Those who had no regard for life.
He’d never understood what drove them to such wanton destruction. Even before he’d discovered what and who he was, he’d been at odds with his stepfather, who’d wanted to lay waste to everything he came into contact with.
For pleasure.
Thorn clenched his teeth. He had his whore-mother to thank for those tender feelings.
When she’d summoned Jaden, his real father’s broker, forth from the bowels of hell, and bargained for the birth of a son to placate her husband, who was going to kill her if she didn’t produce an heir, Jaden had only agreed because he’d known he was consigning Thorn to an eternal battle where his mother’s humanity would be at war with his demonic blood.
For that alone, he wanted to kill the primal god who’d made that match.
Jaden thought he was preserving mankind. But the beast inside Thorn was strong, and it became stronger every day.
He lived in fear of the day when that blood would overtake him, and he might become the very monster his father had sought to breed. A demon with no demonic handicap because of his human blood.
An invincible monster that no one could stop.
Like now as he spotted Belial’s second-in-command.
Thorn dodged the demon closest to him and swooped in to grab Sorath before he even became aware of his presence. He grabbed him from behind and held his throat with his claws.
“Forneus! You bastard!” Sorath clawed at his arm.
“Tell your bitches to back off.”
Sorath motioned the others away from him. “You can kill me, but it won’t stop this.”
“I know. Where’s Belial?”
He laughed until Thorn cut off his ability to make a sound. “Answer or I will kill you.”
He was the one being who had that ability, and death for a demon was a very ugly matter.
Sorath sputtered and groaned before Thorn gave him enough oxygen to breathe. “He’s chasing a daughter of Michael’s.”
Thorn laughed at the absurdity. “If he wanted his ass kicked, he should have stayed here.”
“Nay. He’s found a way to corrupt her. He intends to turn her over to Noir.”
And the balance would be broken.
Forever.
With a Naşāru in his hands, his father would destroy the world. There would be no stopping him. “Where is he?”
Sorath laughed. “I’ll never tell.”
And his army was drawing closer. His time was up. With a growl, Thorn shoved him away and vanished before they captured him.
Shit. A daughter of Michael’s in the hands of Belial …
How was that even possible?
This was the very thing he’d warned them against and they had all laughed at him for it.
“Demons will never be strong enough.”
Bet you wish you’d listened now.
Some days, it didn’t pay to get out of bed. This was definitely one of them. Thorn returned to his horse and tucked his wings in.
Sick to his stomach, he looked out over the battlefield. If he didn’t find them, this would soon be the entire world of man. Nothing would be left.
The world would be a feeding frenzy.
And everything he’d sacrificed his son to protect would have been in vain.
Fuck me.
He’d send out his scouts to find Belial.
Before it was too late.