large cats, only to pummel each other
with calculated moves.
It lasted many minutes, with
Malcolm forcing the king back with
quick and unexpected lances before
Vulcan regained the advantaged and
began driving Malcolm away with the
strength and power behind his thrusts.
Malcolm moved with agility and
grace, side-stepping blows that would
have sent him to an early grave, and
retaliating impressively for a man
fighting the warrior known for his
battle-earned skills.
The fight came to its climax when
Vulcan’s sword slashed down on
Malcolm’s arm hard and a deep groan
was heard as Malcolm leapt back.
Deep red began to stain his armor.
With an oath, Malcolm rushed the
king and fought like a man possessed.
He was too late. The king had been
possessed by vices enough to cleave
his head from his own body, had he
so desired. Vulcan was baiting him.
Another slash to the weakened part of
his armor. This time blood trickled
from a cut to his other arm. As pain
took both of his arms, Malcolm felt
himself
weakening.
Felt
death
approaching. Both of his arms hurt,
and Vulcan’s strength seemed twice
that of another opponent as he
barreled his sword against him.
Malcolm moved aside, so that he
might see his father’s face one last
time before he was called to Lyria.
Urian was pale, his eyes on Malcolm.
He bowed his head stiffly to his
father. Urian followed through this
time, doing the same. He was about to
lose his only son.
Vulcan charged Malcolm, knocking
him and his sword to the ground. His
sword pressed against Malcolm’s
neck and he leaned down to look the
other man in the eye. Malcolm braced
himself, saying a prayer to Lyria and
preparing for a quick death.
“A warrior’s death is not fitting for
you. I will give you a death befitting
your status. To be hung, drawn, and
when near death, have your head
cleaved from your body…as your
lover watches. It is more than a traitor
deserves.”
With that, Vulcan leapt from him
and
rough
hands
were
pulling
Malcolm up. He heard Vulcan’s voice
ordering the men to bind him, and
then
he
was
being
dragged
somewhere. The pain from the two
deep cuts in his arms and the loss of
blood was making him weak. He
slumped forward as the blackness
took him.
***
Jaisyn knew when the Sulanese
spotted soldiers of Morden. She was
sitting in the Great Hall, with Dax and
the king, when Kegan burst in, a grim
smile on his face.
“The men have spotted warriors
heading this way, wearing the colors
of the Wolf. It shan’t be long before
they are upon us.” He turned his sly
gaze to Jaisyn, who’d half-risen from
her seat and bowed low. “Soon, it will
be over, cousin, and Lytheria will
once more be in the hands of the St.
Ives.”
Azarius addressed him before Jaisyn
could respond, and for that she was
glad. She’d been close to hurling
every curse she’d ever heard from
Malcolm and the soldiers on his head.
“How many soldiers have been
spotted?”
Kegan turned his attention to the
king, who sat upon his comfortable
chair with his hands clasped before
him.
“An estimate of forty thousand,
King Azarius.
Jarel
is
already
preparing the men. We will ride out to
meet them.”
***
Kegan could have shouted at the joy
he felt. If things went right, the
Sulanese army would crush the
soldiers and in a no more than a few
days, he would be crowned king. He
turned to look at Dax, whose eyes
were riveted on him. Dax, his closet
friend, his companion. He would give
him a title, an earl or perhaps a duke,
make him a wealthy lord in the
Lytherian kingdom. Dax smiled easily,
as if he could see the thoughts swirling
through
Kegan’s
mind,
before
focusing on his father, who was
speaking to Jaisyn.
***
Nodding, Azarius turned to face
Jaisyn, who sat at his right. A book
she hadn’t been reading lay casually
in her lap. He reached out and
touched her hand gently.
“It will all be over soon, my dear,”
he said reassuringly. The blue of his
eyes was not as bright as his sons’,
but they shone the knowledge borne
of years of power.
Jaisyn began to shake her head,
prepared to say what she should have
from the moment she realized Azarius
was quite unaware of her true
situation.
As if sensing that she would speak,
Dax stood suddenly. “Yes, it will. I
will now return the queen to her
chambers, my liege, where she will be
safe. Will you join us in this battle,
liege?”
Jaisyn was already standing when
he asked that question and she prayed
that Azarius
responded
in
the
negative. He was older than her
father, and seemed too frail for battle.
His response was quick and easy.
“Jarel will lead our soldiers into battle,
Dax. I will hold the castle.”
Dax gave Jaisyn his arm and
although repulsed, she placed her
hand on it. “Of course, liege. But I
can assure you, with your army at our
disposal, those soldiers will not see a
brick in this castle.”
A small smile touched the king’s lips
and he waved his hand in dismissal.
***
Jaisyn waited until she heard the
sound of hundreds of horses filing out
of the castle. She waited until she
heard the creaks of the portcullis as it
was lowered and the drawbridge
lifted. She waited minutes before
drawing a deep, steadying breath. It
was now or never.
Walking over to the door, she
knocked as she had done numerous
times. It was always the same soldier,
a tall Sulanese man who had a foul
temper and a nastier face.
“What
is
it?”
he
demanded
immediately after he opened the door
and poked his head in.
She smiled in her most seductive
manner. “It grows very lonely in my
chambers, soldier.”
She had changed into a dress the
color of scarlet, with a bodice so low
she wondered who’d had had the
audacity to wear it before her. As she
was currently staying in a room that
had belonged to one of Azarius’s
daughters,
she
guessed
that
it
belonged to the princess. Still, she
could not see a lady, much less a
royal, wearing such a gown as this.
The guard’s face relaxed a fraction
and the snarl that was ever present
became less prominent.
“Aye?” he asked, looking down the
hallway before returning his gaze to
her face, and the low bodice of her
dress.
Jaisyn nodded and stepped away
from the door slowly. “Aye. Very
lonely.”
He glanced around once more
before entering her chambers, and
turning to lock the door from the
inside. It was all she needed. The
empty steel chamber pot she’d held
behind her back crashed loudly
against the back of his head. He
turned to face her with a look of
confusion and pain, and Jaisyn quickly
reached forward and pulled his sword
from its scabbard, thinking the man
had a head of stone. She did not need
it. She’d barely moved out of his way
before he fell forward, landing on his
face with a sharp thud. She used her
foot to prod him once, twice, and
satisfied that he would not be getting
up anytime soon, pulled the key from
the door and stepped out, locking him
in.
The hallway was clear. No servants
bustled about. No maids gossiped as
they went about tasks. Swallowing,
she headed for the solar, hoping that
King Azarius had retired there and
praying that Dax was nowhere in the
castle. She knew that Kegan had left
but if Dax was still here, and he saw
her roaming the castle, there would be
a confrontation, and a murder. She
had no doubt that it would be his, but
that would lead to chaos. Azarius
might not believe her after she killed
his son. He might have her locked in a
dungeon or murdered or worse. She
sighed. It would be best if Dax were
riding to meet her husband. Even
better if her husband or one of his
warriors slayed him on the battlefield.
***
his study, surrounded by loyal
generals who had decided to wait at
the castle with their lord. Jaisyn burst
in and the men immediately turned to
her, their hands reaching for their
weapons before they recognized a
woman. As their eyes slid down to the
sword she held, a few reached for
their weapons once more, but did not
draw. Jaisyn scanned every face.
None were Dax.
“King Azarius, I must speak to you
at once. It is of dire import—a matter
of life and death,” she declared.
The king nodded and dismissed his
generals, some of whom seemed on
the verge of protesting. She placed the
sword against the wall and walked
toward him. Drawing in a deep
breath, she allowed the words to fall
from her lips, recounting everything
that
had
happened,
from
the
kidnapping, to the threats, to the
lies… When she was finished, Azarius
stared at her in shock, then rage took
over as he pushed himself from his
desk.
“I always wondered why you
looked so bleak for one separated
from a marauding husband. It has
become obvious now,” he mused
softly and then he was shouting
orders. His generals filed in and
listened, their faces showing surprise
followed swiftly by anger, as he sent
them on tasks. Relieved, Jaisyn sat
back in the chair and prayed that
whatever he did would not be too late.
Chapter 13
Jarel stared out at the men on the
other side of the large grassy area that
bordered Sulan. In the midst of them,
a banner with two snarling wolves
flew ominously in the wind. He
estimated, counting foot soldiers,
archers and horsemen, just over forty
thousand
men.
The
Sulanese
outnumbered them at least four to
one. The prowess of the Northern
Wolf was known through all the
kingdoms, and it seemed silly that he
would bring this paltry stand of men to
face the entirety of Sulan’s forces. It
was insulting. The Sulanese were a
race known for their stealth and
agility. They weren’t a kingdom of
buffoons and cowards.
With that in mind, Jarel looked
around for his brother, who had
surprisingly decided to take to the
field. That in itself was a bafflement.
From what he knew, Dax wasn’t
adept with any weapon, save the
crossbow and dagger. He’d watched
his brother play with a dagger once
and had to admit that he possessed a
rare skill. But that Dax was ready to
fight against men wielding swords just
baffled him. As did most things
leading to this battle. He did not know
why, but he was uneasy. Very
uneasy. Something was very off with
the entire skirmish. And it seemed to
all lead back to Jaisyn of Lytheria, the
cold, but beautiful queen.
“My liege, three men have broken
away from the ranks of the Morden
army. What is your command?” One