Sword's Call (21 page)

“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.