The Bloodbound (32 page)

Her lips parted long before she found words. “I'm having a little trouble understanding this. Until a few days ago, you barely spoke to me in complete sentences. What's changed?”

“Nothing.”
He grabbed her hand. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. Nothing has changed, not from the first day I met you. It just took my brother threatening to have me imprisoned to find the courage to say so.”

There seemed to be a lot of significant information buried in that remark, but she couldn't sort through it now. All of her energy was devoted to suppressing the joy that surged against her willpower like a raging river trying to breach a dam. She could no longer afford to be impulsive, self-indulgent Alix. There was too much at stake; Erik had shown her that.

Seeing her waver, Liam pulled her closer, lacing his fingers through hers. “I want to try again.”

His eyes held a warmth she hadn't seen there for a very long time, and she almost faltered. But she couldn't let herself give in, not until she'd had time to think. If Liam was just experiencing a moment of weakness, a spasm of regret that was destined to pass, accepting him now would only make things worse. “I need to think, Liam.”

“I was afraid you'd say that.” His fingers slipped away from hers. “I'll leave you alone, then. You know where to find me.” He left without another word.

*   *   *

Moonlight bathed the
corridor in a silvery glow, lending the polished stone floor the appearance of a frozen river. The marble was cold beneath Alix's bare feet, and she shivered, drawing her shirt more tightly around her. The thin fabric was designed to be worn under armour, not paraded about after dark. The heat of the day had long since leaked from the castle walls, leaving a chill borne on the breath of the river.

She stopped in front of a sumptuously panelled door, knocking softly. She was surprised when it opened; she'd expected him to be asleep. “Didn't I post guards outside this door?” she asked.

“Um.” Liam glanced into the corridor, as though perhaps he'd misplaced them. “Yes, well . . . I may have reassigned them. Turns out I have that authority. Prince and all.”

Alix only half heard the reply, fixated as she was on the sudden realisation that Liam was naked from the waist up. The ridiculousness of the situation hit her full force then, and she had to suppress a mad giggle. Here she was, standing outside the prince's sleeping chambers in the predawn hours, both of them scantily clad. So much for being conscious of appearances.

As though reading her mind, Liam said, “I think you'd better come in before a patrol comes past.” He shut the door behind her. He waited.

“I've been thinking,” she said, stupidly.

“Right.”

“What you said before . . . that nothing has changed . . . that's not really true, is it? I mean, there's Erik. I don't think we're engaged, but I'm not sure. We haven't really talked about it.”

“You're not,” Liam said. “Engaged, I mean.”

She frowned. “How do you know?”

“Because he told me. He told me a lot of things, Allie.”

“You talked to him about me?”

“It's all right.” He took her hand. “This isn't about Erik, not anymore. This is about you and me.”

You and me.
Something broke free then. Whether it was the last lingering bit of doubt, or merely her discipline, she would never know. The dam burst, and the torrent overwhelmed her. She had only one more question. “Are you sure?”

“Am
I
sure? Allie . . .” He pulled her into him.

She met his kiss with an urgency born of fear, some part of her convinced that this wasn't really happening, that she'd fallen asleep and would wake up to a rude dawn and the sinking realisation that Liam hadn't really come to see her. She pressed her fingers into the muscles of his back, drew in the scent of his skin and the heat of his mouth, rallying the support of every sense to confirm that he was real. She couldn't take in enough of him, and a small, desperate sound escaped her throat. Her fingers fumbled with the laces at his waist, but he caught her wrist in a firm grip. He broke off from the kiss, leaving them both panting.

“Slow down, love. We have plenty of time.” His mouth drifted over her neck, barely glancing off her skin. “I want to learn everything about you, Alix Black,” he murmured, the richness of his voice setting her nerves thrumming. When his lips caressed the tender spot behind her ear, her knees nearly gave way. “There, you see? I've learned something already.”

He was lowering her onto the bed, though she had no memory of crossing the room. Her fingers traced the firm contours of his chest, swells and canyons brushed in the amber glow of lamplight. Her mouth followed, gently raking his skin with her teeth. He sucked in a breath and pulled her hips against him, and for a moment Alix thought his resolve would waver. But instead he pulled her shirt over her head, and she felt the warmth of his tongue dart over her skin. When he found her breast, her back arched in reply, and she gasped. She felt him sigh, his body moving against hers in a slow, steady rhythm filled with promise.

“Gods, Allie, you're so beautiful.” He continued on his exploration. Her remaining clothing was removed with almost reverential care, each newly exposed bit of skin greeted with kisses and the caress of his tongue.

He was thorough. A sweet ache built all over her body, pulsing from her core. Her fingers twisted in the bedsheets as she sought an outlet for the tension. Finally, she could bear it no longer.
“Liam, please.”

He answered, and the relief was exquisite. She clung to his neck, moving against him, her mouth fixed beneath his ear so that he could hear every strained breath. When her body began to tense around him, she nipped his neck, and a moment later, he gave a low growl and shuddered against her.

His lips continued to roam against her throat as they recovered their breath. Alix raked her fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the swell of feeling cresting inside her, the unlooked-for joy of reclaiming something precious she'd thought lost forever. “Liam,” she said against his ear, “I love you.”

He drew back, peering down at her with glazed eyes. “Did I really just hear that?” He paused. “Because if this is a dream, I'm going to be
very
cross.”

Alix laughed as he left a trail of kisses along her jaw. “You really just heard that. And now you're going to leave me hanging?”

He stroked her hair back from her face. “Never. I love you, Allie.”

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, smiling up at him, but eventually, the real world began to creep back in. She sighed. “It's going to be complicated, you know.”

He rolled onto his side. “In spite of recent evidence to the contrary, I'm not
completely
stupid.” He shrugged. “We'll manage. We belong together, Allie. Nothing's ever going to change that.”

At that moment, in the soft cocoon of their happiness, Alix believed him. The dawn would almost certainly bring doubts, and worse besides. But in the dark hours before daylight, there was only Liam, and the sweet promise of peace.

“I
t has begun, Your Majesty,” Arran Green said.

Erik's posture stiffened, but otherwise he remained admirably calm. “What is their exact position?”

“They have put up their tents on both sides of the old imperial walls. About five thousand within, the rest without. They have battering rams and siege towers and trebuchets.”

“Not to mention about twenty-five thousand thralls,” Rig added, in case anyone might have forgotten. Liam blew out a breath, and Raibert Green swore a quiet oath. Adelbard Brown tugged at his beard. As for Alix, she just swallowed hard and tried not to look afraid.

“The gates?”

Rig shrugged. “As fortified as they're ever going to be, and we've crammed as many men as we can along the ramparts. But if they storm the walls all at once . . .”

“They will.” Arran Green's pale eyes scanned the drawing spread out before them, as though he might suddenly spot something he hadn't seen before, something that would deliver them.

“Sound the horns, then,” Erik said resignedly. “The people must take cover.”

Alix wondered how many places in the city afforded cover from a trebuchet flinging giant slabs of rock, but it wouldn't do to ask. Once again, her eyes strayed to Liam. He met her gaze, and for a moment she found the comfort she'd sought there. Then, slowly, the familiar burn began to spread through her body, and she forgot all about trebuchets.

It had been the same for days now. Every look that passed between them soon turned into a silent declaration of want. Alix was painfully aware of how ridiculous it was to be thinking carnal thoughts at a time like this, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She had never been so addicted to anything in her life, and apparently even a thrall army at their doorstep wasn't enough to curb her cravings.

War council, Alix, please?

She broke off from Liam's gaze and stared determinedly at the map.

“However,” Arran Green was saying, “there is a small piece of good news. We know where Madan is.”

Erik's eyes blazed. “Where?”

“At the Elders' Gate, ensconced in the tower.”

Alix thought back to the ancient gate they had ridden through on their way into the city. It remained largely intact, in spite of the centuries, and would offer the Priest a good place to shelter while he plied his dark arts.
Smart
, she thought grimly.
It'll be almost impossible for us to reach him in there.

Erik was aghast. “How can that be? I thought we posted men in the tower?”

“Archers and scouts, lightly defended. Their job was to watch for the enemy, not defend the gate. The structure itself is useless, except as a command post for an army in the field. Our army is not in the field.”

“But the enemy's is. We should have destroyed the gate!”

“We had not the time, sire. In any event, what is done is done—the gate is in enemy hands.”

“And you're certain it was the Priest?”

“Perhaps you would like to speak with the scouts yourself.” Arran Green motioned to one of the guards, and the door of the study opened to admit Gwylim and Kerta. They were fresh from the field, their scouting leathers covered in dust. Kerta looked especially worn. The bruise under her eye had almost healed, but she was still pale. And afraid—that much was plain from the grim set of her mouth. Alix couldn't blame her. Kerta had barely recovered from her last encounter with the Priest. She couldn't have been eager for another.

“You saw the Priest yourselves?” Erik asked without preamble.

“We did, Your Majesty,” Gwylim said. “I've seen him before, so I was certain of it. They were taking him into the tower with a heavy retinue of guards. He had his general with him too.”

“We glimpsed him through a window on the fourth level, Your Majesty,” Kerta added, her gaze lowered demurely. “They seem to have settled him up there.”

“Makes sense,” Rig said. “Harder for us to reach him.”

“We won't be able to reach him at all, my lord,” Gwylim said, “not without a miracle. They sent at least twenty guards up there with him, not to mention his general. The only chance of getting to the gate unseen would be to send one or two scouts, but even if they managed to get in, they'd be cut down before they made it anywhere near the Priest.”

“Perhaps we could target the gate with catapults?” Raibert Green suggested.

His cousin shook his head. “The imperial walls are well out of range. If we are to have any chance of destroying the Priest, we must remove him from the gate tower.”

“How?” Erik asked.

Arran Green shook his head. “I do not know, Your Majesty, but we must. Unless we break the bloodbond between the Priest and his thralls, the city is lost.”
And so are we
, Alix added silently.

Gwylim stirred. “Your Majesty, General, if I may . . . I have an idea.” All eyes turned to the small man with the ash-blond hair. Even Kerta looked surprised. Whatever Gwylim was brewing, he hadn't shared it with her. “Black powder,” he said. Seeing only confused expressions, he explained, “They use it in the priesthood, to make the fireworks you see at festivals.”

Arran Green was not impressed. “What of it?”

“Well, imagine what would happen if I ignited fireworks inside . . . the stables, say.”

“You'd certainly spook the horses,” Liam said dryly.

“Not to mention blow the walls out,” Rig added.

“Exactly,” said Gwylim. “And maybe even more than that. The priestly orders have been trying to outdo each other at festivals for years, so they've been experimenting with the formula, trying to make it more potent. When I left the priesthood, the Order of Rahl was boasting of a concentrated form that was five times as strong as the ordinary blend. With enough of it, we might even be able to blast stone apart.”

Erik leaned over the map, his gaze fixed on the Elders' Gate. “You think such a blast might bring down the tower?”

“I'm not sure, but we could test it on something and see what happens.”

“We have little to lose by trying,” Erik said. “How long will it take you to make the powder?”

“Too long,” said Gwylim. “I don't have the ingredients, but the priests should have plenty of it ready-made. They stockpile it in barrels under the temples—which, by the way, you may want to consider outlawing, Your Majesty, unless you're keen to remodel the temple road.”

Erik smiled. “The priesthood's loss is our gain. You are a good man to have about.” Gwylim bowed, and it was the first time Alix had ever seen him blush. “I will pen you a royal decree,” Erik said. “Take as many men as you need and bring the powder back here. We will reconvene in three hours. In the meantime, I'm sure Lord Black will be pleased to find you something suitable to blow up.”

Rig rolled his eyes, but he did, in fact, look pleased.

Erik gave Alix leave to find something to eat, so she filed out of the study along with the others. She found her brother waiting for her, and when he judged there was no one within earshot, he said, “I saw that, you know.”

“Saw what?”

“You, looking over His Highness like he was a five-course meal. Very disturbing, from a brother's point of view.”

Alix couldn't hide a smile. “Yes, well, we're—”

“Allie, please, I really don't need to hear the rest of that sentence. Just be careful, all right? I'm not the most observant chap in the world, and if I've noticed, you can bet someone else will too.”

She had no doubt which
someone
he was worried about, but thankfully, he didn't press the point. He trusted she would do the right thing. That almost certainly meant talking to Erik, a conversation the king would relish no more than she. Liam had assured her that he and Erik had reached an understanding, but he'd refused to go into details, terming it “private brother stuff.” Even so, Alix and Erik needed to reach an understanding of their own. She owed him that much.

The elder Black and the younger went together to the kitchens, where Alix dined on some cold chicken and a hard-boiled egg, and Rig ate half a boar. He was still at it when she left him to head back to her room in the royal suites. She was making her way past Liam's door when it swung open suddenly, and she was seized by the wrist and dragged inside.

She laughed. “What is that, some kind of sixth sense?”

“I know the sound of your footsteps. I know
everything
about you now.” He looked well pleased with himself, wearing that roguish grin that signalled a particularly mischievous mood. He pressed her bodily against the door and planted an equally demanding kiss on her mouth.

“Wait.” She managed to break off long enough to say, “I have to tell you some—” before she was smothered again. He didn't seem to be very interested in what she had to say. A large and growing part of her wasn't very interested either. She got as far as, “We need to be careful, at least until I talk to—” before she gave up entirely, her words dissolving into a soft, hummed breath.

He was going after that delicate spot behind her ear, the one that liquefied her knees. It was the first weakness he'd discovered, and it was still his favourite. “Were you saying something?” His lips on her ear set the tiny hairs along her neck standing on end. She could hear his grin. Smug bastard. She didn't even bother to answer.

A sudden pounding at the door nearly stopped Alix's heart. Liam gave every sign of intending to ignore it, until an iron-hard voice called his name. He froze.

“Yes, General?” He tossed the words back over his shoulder in an absurd attempt to sound as if he were somewhere other than right up against the door. Alix experienced a moment of sheer terror as she realised that they hadn't bolted the latch.

“I require your assistance,” Arran Green said. The commander general apparently had no intention of treating Liam any differently now that he was a prince, which seemed to suit Liam just fine. “Gwylim will need help to gather the powder.” There was a pause. “And if you should happen to see Alix, you might tell her the king is looking for her.” The dryness of his tone left little doubt that he knew exactly where Alix was. She cringed into Liam's chest.

“Okay,” he said.

The mood wasn't quite the same after that.

*   *   *

Liam poked his
head above the low stone wall. “Nothing's happening. That's disappoint—” The word ended in a squawk as Gwylim grabbed his collar, yanking him down. Half a heartbeat later, the courtyard
roared
. The ground rolled beneath Alix's feet, and she let out a little yelp, in spite of herself. Gwylim threw his arms over his head, and Rig uttered a string of oaths that would have made their late mother faint. As for Erik, whatever he might have said or done was completely smothered beneath Arran Green's massive steel-banded shield. Even with a stone wall to protect them from the blast, the commander general was nervous about his king's safety. He'd practically begged Erik to leave the test explosions to the Kingswords, but Alix had never witnessed a more thorough waste of breath in all her days. The king shoved Green's shield aside, stood, and let out a cry of triumph.

Alix straightened. Dust drifted down like a light snowfall to settle in a fine blanket over the rubble that had been a warehouse only moments before.
Two feet thick of stone
, Alix thought, amazed. Two feet thick, and only a smoking crater remained. A single corner of the warehouse still stood, a jagged pyramid of broken, blackened rock. She pictured the Elders' Gate, and a slow smile spread over her, an expression she saw reflected on every face but Arran Green's. The commander general just frowned, as always.

“I think this will work.” Gwylim sounded half surprised. “We'll get the Priest and his general all at once.”

“There's just the small matter of getting it inside the gate,” Rig said.

Alix's smile faded.
He's right. How will we ever get that stuff where it needs to be?

“That's not the only problem,” Gwylim said, and there was something in his voice that curdled Alix's stomach. “You saw how quickly I had to move to get behind the wall in time. We'll need a much bigger explosion than this to bring the gate down.”

Erik was the first to grasp his meaning. “You'll never get clear.”

Gwylim's only answer was a slow shake of his head.

Liam went pale. “Wait, are you saying . . . ?”

“It's a suicide mission,” Rig said grimly.

“There must be some other way,” Alix said. “A fire arrow, or—”

Gwylim shook his head again. “There's no other way. The powder needs to be stashed inside the gate tower itself, or the enemy will see it. Someone has to sneak inside and lay it somewhere out of sight, and then it has to be lit. Even a bloodbow can't send an arrow through walls.”

“You could leave a thin line of powder,” Liam said, “like you did just now, only longer.”

Gwylim smiled. “All the way out the gate and across the temple road, without being seen? I don't think so, Liam.”

“Gwylim is right,” Arran Green said. “There is no other way. Whoever lights the powder will be killed in the explosion.” He turned to Erik and bowed. “I will see to it personally, Your Majesty.”

Erik looked a little queasy, but before he could reply, Gwylim said, “Let me do it, General. This was my idea, it's only right that I should take responsibility for it myself. Besides, with all due respect, you're no scout.”

The commander general seemed caught between anger at Gwylim's insolence and admiration for his sense of duty. “I cannot permit it. The task is too important for me to leave to anyone else.”

“But you're commander general. You're too valuable . . .”