Chapter Sixteen

The sword pierced Jorrin’s chest and she screamed at the same time he did. Then he collapsed in a heap.

Much too still.

Varthan sneered and started laughing. He advanced on her, Jorrin’s blood dripping off the sharp edge of her magic sword.

Cera’s heart plummeted to her stomach, her blood rushing with it. Her head danced as she fought passing out.

How was he touching the sword?

What happened to the spell?

Her father had failed, and so had she.

Gasping for breath, she shot up, her heart pounding.

Where am I?

Eyes darting around, she took in the ruins.

The lake.

It was still dark out.

She wiped tears from her eyes.

Trikser was curled up in a ball, sleeping about five feet away, undisturbed despite the horrible . . . nightmare?

Only a dream . . .

Jorrin.

He lay on his side, sleeping peacefully.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Visions of their lovemaking danced into her head, making her body tingly and warm. She wanted him again.

She wanted him always.

Cera reached down to caress his cheek, but pulled her hand back before making contact with his stubble.

It’s better not to wake him.

She watched him, heartbeat increasing steadily. Cera wanted to curl back up against his chest, feel his arms around her, but couldn’t.

Now she knew what she had to do.

She had to prevent her nightmare from becoming reality at all costs.

Her stomach jumped as she glanced at the castle’s ruins. Cera couldn’t endanger the lives of Avery, Braedon, or Hadrian, either. Avery was blood kin, but the elf wizard and Jorrin’s father were a part of her family as well.

Trik made a noise in his sleep and her eyes darted to him. Her bond. Her life was his life. They were entwined. If he died, she would. If she got him killed by Varthan or the shades, her life was forfeit anyway. If she left him and got herself killed, at least he wouldn’t have to see her die. His death would be peaceful.

Perhaps Hadrian could even ease it.

Was it fair to endanger him?

Jorrin shifted against her. She froze, waiting to see if he would wake. When his breathing settled back into a deep rhythm, Cera leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, her heart aching.

He smiled in his sleep, but didn’t stir otherwise.

Love for him washed over her, tears welled.

She’d given herself to him because she’d wanted to, because she loved him. Cera didn’t regret it; at least Jorrin would have her memory if Varthan killed her.

Taking a deep breath, she donned her boots and cloak as quietly as possible, then covered Jorrin with the furs and stepped away.

Consciously, she built walls in her mind. Cera would have to block everything out. Every feeling, every thought, would be a sharpened edge, a weapon to pierce her with. She’d have to be stronger than she was even capable of.

I don’t have a choice.

“Lass, have you ever taken a life?” Hadrian’s words teased her memory, but she banished them, sucking in a breath and making a fist.

She’d do what she had to do.

If she went now, she could—would—take Varthan by surprise and run him through with the weapon he coveted.

Her friends and the love of her life wouldn’t be in peril if they weren’t with her.

Trikser opened his amber eyes as soon as she scooted from Jorrin’s side. He rose alert, shoulders tense.

Cera cursed. She should’ve known he’d understand something was very wrong. Her thoughts and feelings were disturbed and she’d blocked everything and everyone from her mind—including her bond.

How was she going leave him?

He’d follow without any command.

Her wolf whined as she reached for him, but his stance didn’t relax.

She knelt and threw her arms around his neck.

He was stiff against her, whimpering.

“It’s all right, Trik. It’s something I have to do.” Cera pulled back to look at him, meeting his eyes.

He wiggled his tail a bit, but still looked ready to strike.

“I need you to stay here,” she commanded as calmly and evenly as she could.

Trikser started to growl.

She gaped.

Her bond had never growled at her before.

What the hell am I going to do?

“Dammit.”

Trikser growled more deeply.

He’d never disobeyed before either, but she’d never tried to ditch him to run into danger.

Would he bite her if he thought it was to keep her safe?

Cera forced a breath. “Trikser. You will stay here. You will protect Jorrin.”

She gestured to her sleeping lover, but her wolf lowered his head as if she was prey, his amber eyes boring into her.

What can I do?

She couldn’t lie to him. Even with her mind partially blocked, her bondmate could sense dishonesty. It was like a smell, palpable to him, just as he could sense fear.

Cera sighed when he whined and pawed her hand. “You can’t come with me.”

She’d have to stun him, but it wouldn’t work if he had any warning. Guilt crept up from the pit of her stomach.

Avery had taught her the small spell not even a sevenday ago. It wouldn’t hurt her wolf, but that didn’t quell her reluctance to use it.

The spell wasn’t long-term. It’d give her just enough time to get away.

Her cousin said it would knock someone out for a half-hour at most.

Leaning into him, she dropped a kiss on his furry head.

Trikser relaxed his stance and licked her cheek.

Cera whispered she loved him as well as thought-sent it, wrapping him in love. She clamped her eyes shut, scrambling to her feet. It was the only way her determination wouldn’t collapse entirely.

Extending her arm as Avery instructed, she clearly said the spellwords. Her tone was hushed, but her resolve remained firm.

Her wolf yelped and collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

Kneeling down, Cera caressed his head and whispered an apology, blinking away tears.

She jogged away from Trikser and Jorrin, soothing Ash when he started hoofing the ground and jerking his head up and down as she rushed to saddle him.

Cera rubbed his nose, resting her forehead against his, sucking in great gulps of air as shivers crept down her spine. “I have to do this, Ash.”

He bumped her hand with his soft muzzle when she broke their contact. She patted him one last time and mounted, shuddering; the motion had little to do with the night air.

Tucking her magic sword against her, she made sure it was hidden under her cloak. Her fingers searched frantically for her dirk, even though she knew it was there.

“I’m sorry, Jorrin,” she whispered, nudging Ash away from the other horses, “but I can’t let you die, too.”

She leaned low, brushing his mane with her cheek as Ash covered the ground at a run. Cera steeled herself as best she could, pushing away the voice that called her a fool. Ignoring the one that piped up, demanding, go back.

Cera was doing what she had to do.

Right?

Arriving at her destination, still cursing and declaring herself a coward, she jumped off her stallion, the ground jarring her body. Her eyes roved for Trikser, but her stomach somersaulted when the memory hit her.

I left him behind.

The sun would be up soon, and she’d have to sneak into the castle before anyone was awake. A vision of marching right into the great hall and attacking Varthan danced into her head, but she disregarded it. She had to protect the sword from him.

Turn herself in, in return for her aunt and uncle?

Cera wouldn’t give him the sword, though.

No matter how she got into Castle Lenore, she’d have to be stealthy.

Why hadn’t she learned how to communicate with her aunt as Avery had?

Aunt Em could’ve helped.

She headed into the stables, entering the smallest building—where most of the ponies were kept. Several animals were inside; leaving her horse here should go unnoticed.

Encountering no one, Cera hid Ash in the stall farthest away from the main entrance. She slipped out of her cloak, laying it over the saddle and whispering reassurances to her stallion.

She froze in place when noise greeted her ears. Flattening herself against the wall, she paused, cocking her head to one side.

Who’s awake at this hour?

A girl’s muffled cries had Cera narrowing her eyes.

“Ow. I can’t believe you bit me, you bitch.”

A smack of flesh on flesh and the girl screamed.

Growling, Cera moved out of the stall just as his laughter started.

Why the hell had she left Trikser behind?

She crept along the line of stalls just as the fair-haired young man threw the girl onto a pile of hay. He had to be a shade, and what he intended with the girl was obvious.

Cera recognized the girl. Her name was Neomi and she was a maid of her Aunt Em’s. The girl was a few turns younger than she, but they’d played together as children any time she’d been in Tarvis.

Bile rose as the shade roughly began to fondle and kiss Neomi.

The maid was doing a valiant job of resisting, and she almost got a good knee into his groin.

He slid his hips away from her, but then slammed his pelvis into Neomi’s.

Cera winced.

Neomi pounded him on the back with tight fists until he pinned her arms to the hay pile. She whimpered and struggled, but got nowhere.

She’d have to move fast. Cera yearned to slip her sword—or dirk—into his back, but Avery’s stunning spell would work better . . . allow her to save the girl and remain unseen.

The spellwords a harsh whisper, she pushed all her power behind them, clenching tight fists at her sides.

The shade stood, then whirled toward her, his pale blue eyes wide as he collapsed in a heap.

Growling, Cera kicked him.

Hope he hit his head.

Around eight and ten, he was younger than she’d first estimated. Pale, unmarred skin; he was handsome.

Irritating.

Plus he’d seen her, and that wasn’t part of her plan.

She scowled.

“Lady Ryhan?” Neomi’s whisper was tremulous, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her dress was ripped, and she shook from head to foot.

The bruising already visible on her wrists and right cheek from the boy’s slap made Cera’s blood boil, though the maid appeared otherwise unharmed.

Good.

Neomi hadn’t moved from the hay stack, so Cera put her hand out.

“Is he dead?” Neomi asked as Cera pulled her to her feet.

“No, just stunned. I’m hoping it’ll last about an hour.”

She should kill the shade, but didn’t want to traumatize Neomi any more than she already was. A little voice pointed out that Braedon and Hadrian had spoken the truth, Cera had no blood on her hands so far, but she ignored it.

Neomi threw herself into Cera’s arms, almost knocking her over. When the maid started to sob, Cera was too surprised to do anything other than hold the shorter girl. Patting her back, she whispered to the maid that it would be all right.

“Lady Em said you would come.” Neomi swiped at her wet cheeks with a shaky hand. “Thank you for saving me from Markus.”

Cera met her big brown eyes, smoothing Neomi’s disheveled blond hair as the girl took a deep breath. “Why’re you here? Aunt Em said she’d evacuated everyone.”

“I wouldn’t leave Lady Em. She’s been better to me than the woman who bore me. Several of us stayed. Greta and Jarina have already been raped by Markus and Athas.” Her voice broke on a sob.

Rape was not a fair tradeoff for loyalty, and neither was getting killed. She had no doubt her aunt and uncle felt the same.

The other girl’s eyes were wide when their gazes collided, and Cera growled. “I’ll kill them all. Have they touched you before now?”

Neomi shook her head vehemently. “No. Markus said he was tired of Greta.”

“What about the other two shades? Do they have a penchant for rape?”

“You know there are four?” Neomi’s eyes widened even further.

Cera nodded, making a fist.

“The third is called Dagonet and he’s very quiet, but cunning. He doesn’t seem to be as cruel as Markus or Athas. And no, he’s not laid a hand on any of us.”

“And the fourth?”

“A child. He can’t be more than twelve or three and ten turns old,” Neomi said. “He doesn’t seem like he could hurt a fly, but the lord keeps him at his side at all times. Milord is awful to the boy. Throws him around and beats him. Lady Em said his magic is a threat, but I haven’t been able to get into her rooms for two days.”

A child?

Her stomach plummeted.

Kait.

Cera couldn’t kill a child, no matter what Braedon cautioned, but why did the boy remain so loyal to Varthan if he was so abused?

She cursed colorfully and Neomi shot her a sharp look. “Sorry. I know I don’t sound much like a lady.”

Neomi grinned. “Lady Ryhan, you and I are not strangers.”

Cera smiled sheepishly. “So I was never good at being a lady,” she demurred. “But stop with the Lady Ryhan nonsense. It’s always been Cera to you.”

Neomi blushed and nodded. “Where are your companions? And where is Lord Avery? Lady Em mentioned others.”

“I’m alone,” she said in a tone the girl would not question. “Where’s Varthan?”

The maid looked down and trembled, paling. She struggled for breath. “He rarely leaves the great hall. Except to bed a maid. He’s tried to make us all whores. Neysa goes to him willingly. She said it’s to protect us all.” Neomi made a tight fist, but didn’t stop trembling.

“You’re not a whore if it’s not your choice. Did that bastard touch you?” Cera shivered. She didn’t know Neysa well, except that she was a dark-haired beauty from the wild tribal lands of the Southern Continent. Although older than either of them, she shouldn’t have had to give herself to Varthan for any reason, even an honorable one. Cera would geld the bastard when she was done running him through. Or maybe before...so she could see his eyes when his tender parts hit the floor.

“Not really,” Neomi whispered. “Not for lack of desire on his part. Fondled me a bit the first day. He lined us up, all the younger ones, ripped the tops of our dresses down and touched us . . .” she shuddered, and so did Cera. “Sampling the merchandise, he said. Markus took Greta that night.” Tears were coursing down her cheeks again, and Cera’s heart ached.

Resting her hands on the maid’s upper arms, Cera gave a slight squeeze. “I will kill them all.”

“Lord Everett tried to defend us. Lord Varthan fought him.”

“Is my uncle all right?” Cera held her breath for the answer.

“He was stabbed in the side with a sword, but Dagonet healed him. Lord Varthan said he needed him in once piece for now. He just beats him unconscious every time he comes to.”

“Blessed Spirit.” Cera digested the new information. One of the shades can heal? “They’re in the great hall now?”

“Yes, but Markus doesn’t take long . . . so . . . Athas might be here soon . . . for his turn with me . . .” Neomi gulped.

“I need to get into the castle undetected.”

“Follow me,” the maid said without hesitation.

Dammit, if the other shade would be checking on his companion, Cera’s element of surprise was ruined.

Markus had seen her.

When he woke up he’d have more than just a headache. He’d tell Varthan she was there.

The smartest thing to do was stash her sword somewhere safe.

Separating herself from her weapon—willingly—made Cera shake from head to toe, but it was the best way to keep it out of his hands.

Keep it protected. Especially if she got caught.

Her heart sped up.

Actually, Cera had to be caught . . . but without her weapon.

It was the only way she could have a sense of control over Varthan. How far it would get her was unknown, but it was better if she made the decision. Making a fist, she gave birth to a new plan. It had to work. Cera would barter herself for her family.

She grabbed Neomi’s wrist, and they halted, flattening themselves against the outside wall of the stable. Cera closed her eyes and concentrated. She uttered the words of Braedon’s masking spell and prayed to the Blessed Spirit that it worked.

They went into the kitchens through the servants’ entrance, hidden from open view, encountering no one—not even another servant.

What to do now?

She drummed her fingers against the wall.

“Something wrong, milady?” Neomi whispered.

Everything. “Not really,” Cera lied, shaking her head and schooling her expression. “I need a place to hide my sword. Varthan cannot gain access to it. Do you know a place where it’ll be safe?”

“He never ventures into the kitchens.”

“Show me the least-used room.”

The maid led her to a small smoke room at the far end of the vast kitchens of Castle Lenore. They slipped inside. The room was empty. Fresh rushes lay on the floor; Cera could smell them, but the shelving that lined all four of the walls held nothing.

Neomi flashed a smile when their gazes met.

How could she be so calm?

Cera needed to absorb her strength; the other girl obviously had faith in her, and she’d have to live up to it.

Intimidating.

“There’s a false wall,” Neomi whispered.

Cera shot her a look. “Show me.”

Neomi went to the far wall, feeling around for something, both hands spread.

Cera watched until she heard a click. Behind an empty shelf, a narrow door opened, sinking into the wall.

She helped Neomi move the shelf just enough so Cera could slip past her into the small space no bigger than a closet, and so dark she couldn’t see her hand. Cera shuddered and didn’t ask how Neomi knew about the hidden space.

Undoing her belt, Cera slid the scabbard off, squeezing the sword’s hilt as if it could lend her its magic. Laying it on the floor, she sent a prayer to the Blessed Spirit she was doing the right thing.

“Lady Ryhan?”

“Cera, remember?” she chided.

As she stepped out, Neomi depressed the, button to close the door and they replaced the shelf in front of it. “Cera, then. You’ll need a sword.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I can sneak into the armory.” She’d already taken too much time.

Why couldn’t Jorrin be at her side?

He had a sword.

He’d promised to protect her, and he would’ve honored that promise.

Cera would probably never see him again.

Palms damp, her heart thundered. She swallowed against a lump in her throat.

No self-doubt.

“Why not?” the maid asked.

“You won’t have to go to the armory,” a voice drawled.

They both jumped.

Drawing her dirk, she shoved Neomi behind her body.

“Relax, Lady Ryhan.” Amusement rippled through his words, and Cera scowled.

“Gamel?” Neomi gasped.

She stepped around Cera as the youth slid into the small smoke room. He had a sword in his hand.

“Gamel?” Cera looked the boy up and down. He was the son of her uncle’s head steward, and she’d not seen him in several turns.

He was tall and leanly built, and his brown hair was as curly as Avery’s. Even in the dimness of the room, she could see his deep blue eyes dance. His handsome face wore a playful grin.

Taking a breath, Cera gave a slight smile, sheathing her dagger.

“I thought you were dead,” Neomi breathed, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly. The boy blushed scarlet, and Cera’s smile widened to a grin.

“I know my way around this place better than anyone. I got you this, Lady Ryhan. Lady Lenore said you’d need it.” Gamel handed her the sword.

When Neomi went to step away, the boy shot an arm around her slim waist and pinned her to his side.

She averted her gaze when Gamel kissed Neomi’s cheek. Neomi grinned up at him, and Cera’s heart ached for Jorrin.

Cera slipped the new scabbard onto her belt, banishing all thoughts of her half-elfin love. He was supposed to be locked safe from her thoughts. “You’ve seen Aunt Em?”

“I’ve been slinking around, watching since they got here. I can get into her rooms.”

“Then take Neomi there and stay out of sight. Markus will be angry I thwarted his attempts with her. She cannot show herself until this is over.”

Neomi gasped. “No, Cera. I want to help.” The maid grabbed her hand.

“You’ve already helped, and I’ll not further risk your lives.” She ignored Neomi’s frown and looked at the boy. How old was he now? Sixteen? Seventeen? Not so much older than Avery, but Gamel’s age didn’t matter. His eyes named him a soldier, and Cera needed that. “Get her to my aunt and both of you stay there. She can protect you.”

He nodded. “I’ve already gotten Greta and Jarina there. The bastards don’t seem to want the older ones, so we’ve all agreed. We’ll protect the shades’ targets. Lord Varthan is content as long as he has Neysa, food on the table and someone to beat.”

“Is my uncle still in the great hall?”

“Yes. From what I can tell, he’s all right. Mostly unconscious.” Gamel made a face.

“What is it?” Cera asked.

“Lord Varthan beats on him until he passes out, then one of the shades heals him. Over and over.”

Cera growled. “Neomi told me.”

“I can get us to Lady Lenore’s rooms quickly. You should come, too.” Gamel’s eyes clouded with concern.

“No, I have to get to the great hall, but I can cover you with a masking spell.”

“No.” Gamel made a cutting gesture with his hand. “No magic. I’ve been moving around in the shadows and secret passageways the whole time he’s been here. Never detected once, but the youngest shade—his magic is stronger than I’ve ever known. He’ll sense me if I’m spell-covered. Even Lady Em agrees.”

Did that mean they hadn’t made it into the kitchens undetected?

“When’s the last time you talked to my aunt?” Cera asked.

“She woke me several hours ago. She knows you’re here.”

“Good. Take Neomi and go. Tell her the sword is safe,” Cera ordered.

“Where are your companions? Where is your bondmate?” Gamel asked, looking around as if it’d just occurred to him.

“I am alone.”

Gamel’s gaze showed concern, but he said nothing. He kissed Neomi’s hand, arm around her shoulder. “We’ll go.”

Neomi gave a muted protest, but allowed the boy to drag her out of the smoke room.

Cera sighed and leaned against the wall.

Had she made the right choice?

Growling, she pushed off the wall, reaching deep inside for her anger.

She drew the sword Gamel had given her, testing it, tossing it from hand to hand before making a few slashes in the air.

Perfect weight and size for her.

She silently thanked the boy and her aunt. Sheathing the sword, she took a deep breath.

It’s time.

 

****

 

Jorrin awoke to someone tugging at him.

Or perhaps it was something.

Yawning, he opened his eyes, stretching his back and his arms. The sun crested the horizon, but the sky wasn’t very bright just yet.

When teeth brushed his ankle Jorrin bolted upright, wide awake.

Cera’s damn wolf had bitten him.

“Blessed Spirit, Trikser!” Scrambling backward in the furs, Jorrin tore the pant leg of his breeches so he could see his ankle. He exhaled when he saw only an angry welt. Jorrin had expected blood. He rubbed the spot; no doubt it’d leave a large bruise.

He glared at the wolf.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Trikser knew he was awake now. The wolf barreled into Jorrin, knocking him over.

Fighting for breath, he sat up, shaking from the wolf’s muscular body slamming against his chest. “What the . . . ?” Jorrin muttered, standing on wobbly legs and brushing himself off.

Trikser bounded away from him, whining and whimpering.

Cera was nowhere in sight.

She was probably just inside, but Jorrin needed to find her and see what was wrong with her bondmate.

Stomping into his boots, Jorrin rolled up Cera’s furs. He smiled when her sweet scent clinging to the soft covers tickled his nose. Too bad she’d not woken him when she’d arisen. He could’ve taken her again.

Flashes of her beneath him, her taste, her touch, and them moving together danced into his mind and he shook himself.

She’d been passionate, sweet, brave, and innocent, all rolled into one.

He’d never had such an experience. Such a responsive lover. Couldn’t wait to have her again. Jorrin’s manhood stirred and he tugged on his breeches.

Not now.

He needed to prepare mentally for the day’s battle.

Trikser darted back and forth, his movements more frantic with each pass in front of the ruins of the old castle. Then the wolf skidded to a halt, kicking up dirt. Sitting back on his haunches, Cera’s bondmate threw his head back and began to howl.

Jorrin gaped. He’d never heard Trikser howl before, but the wolfsong bled desperation.

Hadrian ran from within the ruins, Braedon on his heels. The elf wizard’s face was as white as a sheet.

Jorrin’s heart stopped.

Even before the wizard laid his hands on the wolf’s white mane, he knew.

Avery exited the decrepit castle as well, dashing to where their mounts were tied together.

“No. She didn’t . . .” Jorrin whispered. His father made it to his side just as his knees buckled and he tumbled to the ground.

Her cousin’s face was devoid of color. Avery panted to stave off panic, but Jorrin ignored the emotions as they rolled over his magic.

“Ash is gone.” Avery bent at the waist, hands on his knees and sucking in air.

“No,” Jorrin repeated. His lungs deflated. Every breath stabbed.

“Why would she leave Trikser? Avery demanded. His hands clenched into tight fists, his knuckles white.

Hadrian was still speaking to the wolf, trying to calm Cera’s bondmate. No one else was better equipped to communicate with the animal, but it didn’t make Jorrin feel any better.

Why would Cera be so reckless?

“To your feet, son,” Braedon ordered, tugging on his elbow. His father had recovered from his own shock; his features were set, expression determined.

“Trikser said she knocked him out with a spell. She’s got an hour or two lead on us,” Hadrian said, rejoining the group.

Avery covered his face with his hand, but Cera using the magic he’d taught her wasn’t his fault.

“Then we must hurry,” Braedon’s tone was firm.

Avery and Hadrian rushed to their horses.

Jorrin’s face was hot. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He forced a breath, then another, his chest aching.

How could she have just left?

Especially after last night. She’d given herself to him. He’d made love to her. Showed her how much he loved her.

Was it her sick way of saying goodbye?

His eyes smarted and he swallowed the sudden lump in this throat.

All the way to Tarvis, Cera had been determined, but finally seemed to accept that it wasn’t weak to work as a team, to let them help her.

Had it been lies?

No.

What happened?

“Father?”

Braedon startled. When the other man glanced at him, his eyes were wide. It was the first time Jorrin called him that since they’d been reunited. “Aye, son?” Jorrin’s father clasped his forearm.

“She’d better hope Varthan doesn’t kill her. When we catch up, I just might,” Jorrin choked out.