Authors: Chantel Seabrook
More pleasure rippled through her body as he thrust himself deep and hard. She reveled in the sensation of his hard body pressing against her as he filled her fully.
She closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, as another wave of ecstasy coursed through her body. Gripping his shoulders, she cried out, as he shuddered with his own release.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and she could feel him trembling, his heart beating wildly against her own chest.
Gently she traced the white scar that crossed his jaw, and pressed her lips to his. His eyes opened and he gazed down at her with a look that broke her heart. He had distanced himself, drawn a shield over his emotions.
Her body was still quivering and pulsing as he drew out of her. He rolled onto his back, placing distance between them, but Cara knew that it was the distance he had placed in his heart that was their greatest barrier.
“I can't love you,” he said, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Cara blinked back tears. She knew better than to expect anything more from him, but his words still stung. She had never asked him to love her, and she wanted to yell it at him. To tell him she didn't want his love, but she knew it was a lie.
“I know,” she whispered, drawing the blankets over her body, and closing her eyes.
He didn't leave as she thought he would, but he also didn't offer to hold her and that was almost worse.
She turned on her side and tried to ignore the ache that had settled in her chest.
Minutes later, he stirred beside her.
“Cara?” His voice was gruff and tinged with regret.
She almost turned, almost acknowledged the desperation she heard in his voice, but something stopped her. It would do neither of them any good to ask him for more than he could give. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to sleep.
He breathed out heavily and she heard him curse as he rose from the bed and dressed himself. She didn't hear the door open, but when he didn't return to bed, she figured he must have slipped out. Pulling the blankets tighter around herself, she allowed her tears to fall.
He had done what she asked. He had helped her forget the pain of the day's events, but the price was another misery. One that she didn't know if she could bear.
In her dream, Cara fled from the darkness that pursued her, but no matter how fast she ran, she could feel it twisting its cold wet hands around her legs, grasping at her bare arms, and clawing at her face.
Choking and fighting for breath, she cried to Annul to save her, but no help came.
Batch stood before her, covered in blood, his body twisted and grotesque. His eyes were black holes, empty of life.
“You're not real,” she cried, covering her face with her hands.
“Cara.”
It was Finn's voice that called out to her, and when she lowered her hands, she saw him, his flesh torn and shredded, maggots crawled from the empty crevices where his eyes should be. Behind him lay a pile of broken bodies, arms and legs twisted unnaturally, their faces barely recognizable, and yet she knew somehow that it was the grave of her men.
From the bloody mound of bodies, a snake slithered and hissed, growing larger as it came closer to her, wrapping itself around her legs and torso, until she couldn't move, and only stare in horror as it bared its fangs.
She screamed as it struck, feeling it pierce her skin, its poison spreading throughout her body. As she lay crumpled on the ground, the snake altered its shape, taking the image of a man. His laugh echoed above her, as she withered in pain and begged for death to take her.
Edmund stood hovering over her, half man, half snake, his blue eyes glazed with madness. His lips curled in a sneer as he raised a knife above her heart. She screamed in agony as he brought the blade downwards, slicing through flesh and bone.
She felt the pain as if it were real, but already the dim haze of consciousness altered the landscape around her.
Gasping for air, she opened her eyes and blinked at the harsh morning light that spilled through the open window.
It was just a dream. A nightmare. The images fled away, but the sense of darkness stayed with her, causing her heart to beat wildly in her chest.
She drew in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly, taking account of her surroundings.
A heavy arm pinned her to the bed. For a moment, she thought that Tahdaon had come back, but even before she turned, she knew the rich musky scent belonged to Finn.
“Good morning.”
His eyes were still heavy with sleep, as he kissed the tip of her nose, and positioned himself so that she could lie with her head on his chest.
“Where's Tahdaon?” she asked reluctantly.
There was a moment of strained silence before he answered. “He's with Cush.”
She nodded and toyed with the fair hair that was lightly scattered across his chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
Nuzzling closer to him, she didn't resist when he flipped her over on her back and began kissing her.
He brushed the hair away from her face and stared down at her.
“I love you,” he whispered, gently kissing her forehead, nose, and lips.
She smiled against his mouth. He didn't wait or ask for her to reciprocate his sentiment, and for that she was glad. While her feelings were stronger for Finn than anything she had ever experienced before, she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Instead, she drew him close, and he sank between her thighs with a groan.
Their remaining time in Colechester passed without incident. Cara didn't ask Tahdaon to visit her chambers again, but she did, despite protest, make sure that the men were continually paired together. Fear made her overcautious, and even though the men complained bitterly, she insisted that it was for their own protection.
Wesley's uncle threw an elaborate ceremony on midwinter's eve, but despite the Viceroy's endeavors, Batch's death had cast a dark shadow across the celebration, and the mood was far from jovial. Even the obnoxious Lady Hadlee had the good graces to appear somber throughout the remainder of their visit.
Cara went to the sanctuary with Wesley without trepidation, and during their time alone, she learned more about him then she had in the many months that they had been together. They spoke openly of the things they desired, and she was overwhelmed by how much he truly loved Landon. She didn't deny that the relationship was strange to her, but she accepted him and Landon with the same grace that she had given Reyn and Maeve. Wesley still believed that Reyn was dead, and she didn't correct him because it was safer that way. In her heart, however, she wished that she could give him the same freedom to love and be loved. In the end, she convinced him to allow Landon to join them on their tour, and when the servants came to retrieve them the following day, while not fully confident in his fealty, she believed that they had taken the first steps towards friendship.
Despite the protests of Lord Wilber, they left Colechester a few days after the winter solstice. The weather had turned bitter, and it took nearly a month for their caravan to reach the capital city of Crantock. It was a miserable journey; hail and wet snow beat down on them, and Cara was for once grateful of the confines of her carriage.
Their arrival was unheralded as they entered the fortified city of Keverne. The Viceroy's estate was well protected, situated on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the sea.
It was just past midday when their small group was ushered into the great hall, where already an alarming number of warriors had gathered.
Cara glanced nervously at Finn who seemed unfazed by the assemblage.
“Finn of Crantock,” someone shouted from across the room.
A murmur spread through the assembly, and she heard her name whispered on the lips of the men and women dispersed throughout the hall. Cara's eyes were immediately drawn to an imposing figure of a man with hair the color of snow, seated behind a large oak table that was piled high with papers, books, and scrolls. At first she thought she knew him, but as she looked more closely she realized it was his resemblance to Finn that made him seem familiar.
“Father,” Finn said, his face composed as he approached the older man.
Pushing himself away from the table, Finn's father rose to greet him. The man matched Finn in height, and despite his advanced age he was solidly built. Wrapping his arms around his son, he held him in a long embrace and whispered words that Cara couldn't hear. When he pulled away, there were tears in both of the men's eyes.
“Little brother,” came another shout. Two men, both blond and tall and sharing similar features approached Finn, each taking turns to embrace him. “Welcome home.”
When the men turned to her, she smiled and greeted them each by name. The oldest was Artor, next in line to take his father's place as Viceroy. Linos was the burlier of the two, his eyes a darker shade of blue, and his hair already streaked with shades of silver despite his young age. Both men were well into their thirties, and it was evident they doted on their youngest brother.
“Lord Gorlos,” Cara said, bowing her head in formality and respect. “I cannot express how happy I am to finally meet you.”
“It is our privilege to have you here,” Gorlos said, watching her with interest. He released his gaze with a small smile, but there was distress in his silvery blue eyes. “Come let us retire to my study where we can speak undisturbed. I'm sure your men would be grateful to rest and bathe before supper, and I have some pressing matters that I would like to discuss with you and my son.”
Cara followed Finn and his father out of the great hall. The Viceroy's estate was more of a fortress than a home, and she found the place cold and dark, with few if any comforts. It reminded her in a way of her home in Crowthorne, if there had been a few more cracks in the stones and nicks in the mortar.
“Have a seat,” Gorlos said, as they entered the sparse room. Motioning towards two leather backed chairs, he nodded for them to sit. His hands fisted on the hilt of his sword, and his knuckles whitened as he clenched the hilt.
Something flickered behind the old man's eyes, as if some inner struggle was going on, and she felt the uneasy feeling she often got right before something terrible was about to happen.
“My son trusts you, and by the reports I have acquired, I have seen no deception in your character,” Gorlos said, his face impassive as he stared at her. “Because of that I have decided to allow you to be part of this meeting. I trust that what I say will remain between us.”
Cara swallowed the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of her tongue and reminded herself that the man was Finn's father.
She tilted her head in acknowledgment.
Gorlos picked up a handful of papers and scrolled through them as if looking for a particular report. Finding what he was looking for, he placed the other copies on his desk and handed Finn the letter. “I've had runners following your caravan since you left the palace, so I am aware of the trials and misfortunes that have occurred along your way. I am sorry to hear of the loss of your two men.”
Cara nodded and looked over at Finn, whose brows were drawn downwards as he read the message his father had given him.
Standing with his arms crossed in front of the large heath, Gorlos continued, “I am also aware of the relationship that has unfolded between the two of you.”
“Father——” Finn warned, dropping the letter in his lap.
“You are aware of the danger it puts you in,” his father said, shaking his head, as if he had already lost the argument before it had started. “So much like your mother. Always led by your heart instead of your head.”
Finn didn't speak, but Cara could see that something passed between father and son that needed no words.
Gorlos sighed heavily. “Very well,” he said, turning to address Cara. “It seems my dear that you have inherited a country on the brink of war.”
“War?” Cara exclaimed.
“You are aware that the council issued the surrounding provinces to send troops when Lydd was overthrown? Our own infantry returned two weeks ago when the issue was retracted. Hellstrom and Bere Alstern's men remain positioned around the city. There are also reports that Ashwater is sending more men to join their forces.”
“I don't understand,” Cara said. “If there is no longer any threat, why would they be sending more troops?”
Finn cursed and stood. “My father believes that Lord Ballack plans on overthrowing the council.”
“But that would be treason.” Cara stared at him, incredulous. “They wouldn't dare. Would they?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny Ballack's ambitions, but only express my suspicions.”
“And if they succeed?” Cara asked, thinking about the repercussions.
Gorlos shook his head. “Let's hope that doesn't happen.”
“The warlords in the great hall,” Finn said sighing. “That's why they are here. You plan on sending an army north.”
That explained the throng of warriors that crowded the hall when they arrived. Cara shook her head and tried to make sense of what she was hearing, but she couldn't get past the notion that Ballack would even consider attacking the Holy City.
On the desk there was a flagon with wine, and Gorlos poured some in a cup and handed it to Cara. Grateful, she took it and drank. The ache in her chest made it hard to breathe, and she choked on the liquid as it passed the lump in her throat.
She drew a trembling breath. “You would fight against Hellstrom without reinforcements?”
“Our men are prepared to fight for the future of Elbia. When the enemy strikes we will be ready,” Gorlos said, his hand once again returning to the hilt of his sword, as if he were ready at any moment to draw the blade.
To Cara, he seemed to almost yearn for battle, as if it would give him great satisfaction to send his men to fight against Hellstrom.
“If this is true, that Ballack intends to attack the palace, then Edmund would know what his father plans,” Cara said, looking to Finn and then back to Gorlos. “Surely there must be some way to thwart Ballack's plans by using his son against him.”
The older man shook his finger at her as if she were a small child to be reprimanded, and his handsome features twisted in a scowl. “You must not raise his suspicions that you suspect anything. Until we have confirmation, that Ballack intends on overthrowing the council, we are at a standstill. We wait and watch, and when they attack we will be ready.”
“Wait and watch?” she repeated, biting her lip and looking down so that he would not see her roll her eyes at him. She had just had this argument with Finn, and if his father was half as stubborn as his son, there would be no point in arguing. Still, Cara didn't understand their reasoning. They already suspected Edmund and Arwel of being involved in Batch's death, and now this. Waiting and watching was going to get them killed. “And your men?” Cara asked. “What are your numbers?”
“If Ashwater has joined the allegiance, we would be outnumbered more than a hundred to one,” Finn answered, as he raked a hand through his hair.
Cara gaped. “It would be a suicide mission.”
“You underestimate our soldiers,” Lord Gorlos asserted, his eyes blazing with pride. “Our men are born and bred to be warriors and our steel is sharp. We may not have numbers on our side, but any one of my men could take on a hundred Hellstrom soldiers singlehandedly.”
“Father,” Finn said, his voice thick with emotion. “That may be true against Hellstrom and Ashwater, where they send boys to fight their battles, but Bere Alstern is different. Their men are barbarous and depraved. Cara is right. Sending our army alone would be an absolute slaughter.”
Gorlos shook his head in denial, and added, “I have sent word to Lord Eoghaan and Lord Wesley, and informed them that we need as many mounted infantry soldiers ready for battle as they can muster. That is all we can do for now.”
“We are heading to Bere Alstern once we leave Crantock,” Cara murmured, and then glanced up at Finn's father. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Cara laughed out loud. “We ride into enemy territory. How do we know they won't kill us then?”
Gorlos looked at Finn and shook his head. “You don't.”
Cara closed her eyes and blew out an uneven breath. “Then what do I do?”
When she opened her eyes, Gorlos was watching her, his blue eyes hard as steel. “You continue onwards. As much as I would like to keep my son under my roof for the allotted time, it is imperative that you hasten your journey. We will hold the required ceremony tomorrow evening, and then send you on your way in three days' time. I have secured two dozen men to ride with you. Enough for protection, and not too many to stir suspicion.”