Sword's Call (38 page)

How could Jorrin have left her?

Serves you right
.

“When did he leave?” Cera demanded.

She’d been behaving abhorrently to all of King Nathal’s servants.

Wouldn’t be surprised if they all thought she was becoming one of the bossy, shrewish ladies she despised. They were probably all whispering horrible things about her.

She’d never treated any servants this badly in the past.

“Several hours ago, milady.”

Cera had been looking for Jorrin everywhere. When she’d left the king’s ledger room, she’d gone to his room. Jorrin wasn’t there, so she’d sought out anyone and everyone to ask if he’d been seen.

This maid was the first who had seen him.

She growled, and the maid’s eyes widened.

Trikser, still standing behind her, also growled and the maid took an involuntary step back.

“I’m sorry,” Cera said after forcing a deep breath.

Calm down.

She chanted it, as well as thought-sent to her bondmate.

Trik’s hackles were raised down the length of his spine.

Cera needed to control herself, for both their sakes.

The maid nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave Cera’s bondmate.

“Cera?” a female voice distracted her and she whirled away from the young maid.

Tears burned her eyes, threatening to spill over yet again.

Taking the chance to escape, the maid shirked away, but Cera made no to move to stop her.

Aimil strode toward her, dressed in a beautiful dark blue gown, simple yet elegant, the color usually representing South Ascova. She had a friendly smile on her face until she saw Cera’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Her tears cascaded, and Cera wiped them away.

Trikser whined and bumped her hand with his nose.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, patting the wolf’s head and meeting her friend’s concerned gaze.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’ll be fine.” Cera’s voice was shaky.

I have to be fine.

She’d have to find some way to get over Jorrin.

Her heart throbbed as more tears welled and spilled.

“It doesn’t seem so,” Aimil whispered, stepping forward to hug her.

Cera wrapped her arms around her friend as a sob she couldn’t swallow escaped.

When she could compose herself, Cera pulled away from the other girl and wiped the tears from her face.
Again.
“I’ve made a mess of things, and now it’s too late to fix it.”

“Tell me what happened.” Aimil’s tone was a gentle order.

“Not here,” she said. “We’ll go to my room.”

Cera wanted to plop on the large bed and sob until she couldn’t anymore. She sat on the edge instead, Trikser jumping up and lying at its center as if he owned it.

Aimil gave a small laugh and Cera managed a half-smile at her bond.

“Where’s Isair?”

“I left her at the barracks. I only came up to the castle to see Tristan.”

“Tristan Dagget?”

Her friend nodded, a softness in her expression that made things click in Cera’s mind. Her fellow Senior Rider had been betrothed since she was a baby.

The two families had signed an agreement upon Aimil’s birth. Her friend never really talked about the situation, or the man.

She’d accepted her duty as the daughter of a duke, and still had two more turns until they would marry, when Aimil turned twenty.

Why hadn’t Cera realized her friend’s husband-to-be was someone she knew and liked?

She had no idea Aimil had a fondness for him.

Cera liked the healer very much. He’d be good for her friend. They were both gentle souls. Sweet. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, I love him. I have for some time.” Aimil’s face lit up, her dark eyes shining as she talked about her love. “I’m sorry I never told you and Ansley. I wasn’t hiding him or anything. Things moved fast when we started spending time together, and you or Ansley were always gone, or I was. I wanted to tell you together, and then, well . . .” What she left unsaid was that Varthan had happened. Aimil winced.

Cera grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s all right.” She smiled, trying to ignore envy and heartache. She didn’t want to think about Varthan or losing her family, but then, she didn’t want to think about Jorrin, either.

“Shouldn’t you be happy, too? Tristan told me I missed quite a bit during the feast the other night. You’re betrothed now, too, right? I was hoping to meet the new Lord Aldern today. I was on a run with some new recruits, or I would’ve been here the other night. I’m sorry I missed it—” Aimil trailed off when Cera bit her bottom lip. “What did I say? What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s ruined, and it’s all my fault.” Sniffling, Cera shook her head.

“What are you talking about? Tell me what happened.”

Meeting her friend’s dark eyes, Cera nodded.

The whole story tumbled out, her tears cascading when Aimil cringed at what she’d said to Jorrin.

Aimil hugged her though, and Cera was glad she didn’t offer any criticism or berate her for the awful things.

“I don’t understand why it’s too late to fix it,” Aimil said.

“Because he left. I hurt him, and he left. He was never comfortable here, anyway.” Shoulders slumped, Cera crushed her eyes shut and forced a breath.

“Cera, Lord Aldern didn’t leave, at least not permanently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tristan and Sir Leargan Tegran asked him to accompany them on a ride. If I know my Tristan, he wanted a chance to get to know both your Lord Aldern and Sir Tegran better.”

“What? Are you sure?” Her heart stopped.

“Yes. The stable boy told me when I arrived. I decided to wait up here for Tristan, since I have no message runs today. I was actually on my way to find you . . . then I ran into you in the hallway.” Aimil shrugged, smiling.

“He’s not gone,” Cera whispered. Her heart tripped over itself. “It’s not too late . . .”

“You’d better hope he forgives you.” Her friend’s voice was stern.

Cera blinked.

“I’ll not live with you at Greenwald if you’re unhappy all the time.” Aimil waggled a finger at her.

“What do you mean?”

“No one told you? Tristan will be Lord Aldern’s Second. When we wed, I’ll be coming to Greenwald. I want to see you happy with Lord Aldern, like I’ll be with Tristan.”

Cera smiled genuinely. Leargan had mentioned something about Tristan, but she hadn’t asked him to clarify. “I’ll be happy, Aimil. I love him.”

Her friend grinned.

Cera hugged Aimil. “Thank you.” Hopping up, she surprised both her wolf and her friend.

“Where’re you going?”

“To the stables. I have to talk to him as soon as they return. I’ve a lot of groveling to do.” Cera made a face, but her heart lifted.

Maybe it really isn’t too late . . .

“I’ll go with you. I want to see Tristan first thing.”

They exchanged another smile.

Chapter Thirty-three

The hard ride felt good.

Jorrin didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel. The wind moved his hair, stung his cheeks and rushed in his ears.

He didn’t want to remember how Cera felt in his arms or how she tasted when he kissed her. What it was like when he touched her and made love to her. Didn’t want to remember the pain when she’d said she hated him.

Jorrin growled.

No. Not again.

It’d been days.

He needed to stop dwelling on it.

Lord Tristan Dagget was on his right, Sir Leargan Tegran on his left. They’d be his men.

His
men.

It still baffled him and set butterflies spinning in his stomach.

How could he run a Province?

A small voice reminded him that he’d need Cera at his side, but Jorrin silenced it.

It hurt too badly.

Tristan had sought him out, asking if he wanted to go for a ride. The lord had just left a meeting with the king, but Jorrin hadn’t asked about it.

Jorrin had accepted the invitation; he needed to get to know both men. Despite the petty jealousies he’d had about Leargan, he liked him.

As a matter of fact, he liked what he saw in both of them so far.

They slowed, nearing the king’s stables.

Grayna was much smaller than Tristan’s dark brown stallion and even smaller than Leargan’s buckskin-colored mare, but Jorrin didn’t care. She was, and always would be, a companion to him.

Tristan caught his eye as he dismounted.

Jorrin figured he was in for a good ribbing.

“You’re a duke now, you know.” The lord made a show of looking Grayna up and down.

Leargan laughed and Jorrin shot him a glare. “And?”

“You may want to get a more impressive horse . . . as in . . . larger?” Tristan grinned and hopped to the ground giving his stallion, Capall, an affectionate pat.

“Nah,” Jorrin said, patting Grayna’s neck and whispering to her. She neighed at him, and he smiled. “She’s been with me too long. We’ve been through a great deal together.”

Like Cera.

“I suppose that’s
one
acceptable reason to hold onto something.” Tristan gave him a long look.

Jorrin groaned.

No way Tristan was referring to Grayna.

“Aye, it is,” Leargan remarked, dismounting his buckskin mare, Fia.

Meeting the knight’s dark eyes, Jorrin swallowed a sigh.

Did the whole castle know all was not well with Cera?

Had Tristan asked him to accompany them to ambush him?

Intuitive people made him wary.

“What was your meeting with the king regarding, if you don’t mind my asking?” Jorrin asked Tristan as stable boys came to take their horses.

The younger man gave him another long look, but sighed. “The proclamation dooming the last of Varthan’s shades.” Regret and hurt seeped from the lord’s aura.

Jorrin’s magic tingled, telling him how hard it was for Tristan to have a hand in their punishment and probable death, since he was a healer. It was everything he stood against.

Although he’d not known Tristan for very long, it was apparent that his sense of justice was just as great as his aversion to death. He understood the necessity, but it would still cause him some suffering.

Reaching out, Jorrin clasped his forearm in comfort, surprising them both. It was a casual gesture and he didn’t know Tristan well enough to do so, but instinct told Jorrin they’d be very close friends.

Tristan would show him a loyalty that equaled how he saw the king.

It warmed Jorrin considerably.

Tristan’s hazel eyes were soft when their gazes met. He offered a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Looks like you two have eager visitors, my lords.” Leargan wore a big grin.

Jorrin and Tristan exchanged a glance before looking where the knight had gestured.

Cera stood in front of the main stable next to a petite girl in a dark blue dress, their hands entwined. The unknown girl was beautiful, but his eyes locked onto Cera, his heartbeat accelerating.

Trikser sat next to his mistress, making no moves.

The girl in the blue dress gently dropped Cera’s hand and rushed to Tristan, who pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

He looked away from the smiles the couple gave each other, his chest tight.

Rushing forward, Cera stopped about five feet away, saying nothing. She bit her plump bottom lip.

Jorrin’s heart was about to pop out of his chest. He didn’t read hatred in her eyes when they met his, but rather regret and a hurt so strong it radiated off of her. His magic throbbed as he fought dizziness; the mixture of her hurt and his made his head spin.

He had the urge to pull her into his arms, but he was afraid she’d reject him again.

Leargan, Tristan and the other girl slipped away, leaving him alone with Cera.

Should he be nervous or grateful?

At least if Cera crushed him again it’d be in privacy.

“Jorrin…” Her whisper was full of anguish.

Almost his undoing.

Staring, he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“Do you hate me?” Cera asked, so low he almost missed it.

His heart clenched when he saw the tears on her cheeks. “No.” Jorrin could never hate her.

Hope flashed in her gray eyes, and his heart started to gallop.

Cera stood there, staring, tears coursing down her cheeks. Despite the redness in her face and puffiness under her eyes, she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Her deep auburn curls were loose, wreaking havoc around her shoulders, windblown as if she’d been running.

She was dressed as Jorrin had seen her most often, in soft brown breeches and a white linen tunic with a sleeveless buckskin jerkin over it.

He needed her like he needed to breathe.

Cera opened her mouth, but no words came. She glanced down, wringing her hands in front of her, still saying nothing.

And what could Jorrin say?

His heart stuttered as his magic perked to alertness. Fear washed over him from Cera, shooting a tremor down his spine.

She was afraid.

Her body was shaking with fear that he’d reject her.

Jorrin could never turn her away.

He wanted things right between them.

Swallowing hard, he fought the tightness in his chest as her emotions affected his. Relief warred with Cera’s hurt and fear of rejection. He fought for the ability to speak.

The silence was finally broken by Trikser.

The wolf wuffed and pawed at Cera’s feet.

Jorrin sensed a thought-send, though he didn’t catch the actual words.

Shaking her head, the love of his life looked into her bondmate’s amber eyes. “Go on, I’ll see you later.” Cera gave Trikser an affectionate pat.

The wolf took off at a run.

When she looked back at him, Jorrin managed a small smile, holding his breath as Cera took a step toward him.

He didn’t move away from her, but he didn’t move closer, either. Yearned to throw his arms around her and pull her against him, but he didn’t want to push her.

Jorrin would let Cera come the rest of the way to him when she was ready.

“What’s with him?” he whispered.

“My friend Aimil’s bond. A she-wolf named Isair.” Cera’s words were rushed, as if the wolves were the last thing she wanted to discuss.