Beloved (34 page)

“Why the change of heart?”

He lowered her to her feet. “I want you to be happy . . . and safe. If you insist on doing this, I will do all I can to protect you.”

Kira playfully pushed him away. “I already have a bodyguard. I’d rather you were here to cheer me on.”

“That goes without saying.” He glanced over her shoulder. “I believe the competition is over. You need to collect your prize.”

“Prize?” She turned to see the officiator motioning for Kira to join her on a small platform set up in front of the archery range. Kira couldn’t help herself. She gave a little squeal before joining the woman, along with two others—the archer who took first place in the first competition and another one the size of an Amazon woman. She was a good foot taller than Kira and had shoulders almost as wide as a man’s.

Kira hopped up on the platform and took her place next to the officiator. She couldn’t help but notice more people than normal gathered around to watch. Even some of the women from the nearby marketplace had wandered over to see what all the fuss was about.

The officiator didn’t make much ado about the presentation; she merely shoved the items at the three winners and motioned for the next competition to begin. The Amazon woman grunted at her new leather pouch then stormed off into the crowd—a complete contrast to the younger girl, who seemed perfectly happy with her new wrist guards.

Kira, on the other hand, was thrilled to receive a new quiver of arrows, decorated with soft white and black rabbit’s fur and an intricate bead pattern around the top. The thing she liked the most was that it belted around her waist instead of over her shoulder. It would take some getting used to, but it wouldn’t be in the way while climbing trees or leaning against the back of a chair.

She returned to where Octavion waited and let him help her buckle the quiver on her hips. “I love it.”

Octavion stood back, folded his arms and gave her a look that ran from her toes to her sparkling green eyes. She got the feeling he wasn’t interested in her prize but that he was checking out
his
prize. “I love it as well.”

Her next competition wasn’t for a couple hours, so when Octavion took her hand and led her into a nearby tent, she didn’t protest. With such a huge crowd, her senses were a little overstimulated and being alone with him would do wonders to calm them.

The tent was empty except for a few boxes filled with fruits and vegetables, overflow from a nearby merchant booth, she guessed. Octavion gently pushed her back against a stack of boxes, making them sway with her weight. He steadied them while leaning closer to her—his forehead leaning on hers.

“I could take us somewhere more private if you like.” He flashed his dimples and raised one brow.

Kira giggled, then snorted when she realized what she’d done. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually giggled—maybe when she was two. “I . . . um, think we’d be missed.”

As if on cue, Mahli slipped through the tent flap and nuzzled Kira’s leg, pushing Octavion away. A large shadow fell on the tent wall, but no one entered. Nigel. As soon as the festival was over, she’d have to set some ground rules for his hovering, especially when she was with Octavion.

Octavion growled at Mahli’s intrusion and she growled right back. “Perhaps you are right. Besides, I am looking forward to your match against my sister.”

Kira folded her arms. “You mean you can’t wait for her to beat me.”

“No, I cannot wait to see these . . .
skills
you speak of.” He chuckled under his breath, then leaned over and kissed her, ignoring the hissing, furry mass at their feet. Warmth filled Kira’s soul and the last thing she wanted to do was let their lips part, but she felt uneasy with Nigel standing only a few feet away.

She reluctantly pulled away. “Maybe we should go watch some of the competition. What are you signed up for?”

“I do not compete.”

“Why not? Surely you’re not afraid to lose.”

Octavion laughed. “Hardly. I am a hybrid, so it would take more than one competitor to take me down. But that is not the reason. Because I am a prince, few would stand against me in competition. It is out of respect for Xantara.”

“Oh, I think I get it.”

“As a youth, and before anyone recognized me, I would compete in faraway festivals, but it did not take long for my strength to give away my identity. There are not many true hybrids in our world—none who wear a crown.”

Kira ran her hand up the front of his tunic, teasing the soft chest hairs that peeked out between the laces at the top. “So, I’ve married one of a kind, then?”

“That you have, my love.”

Mahli tried to turn between them, pushing them further apart. She growled low and deep in her throat before exiting the tent.

“I suppose we should rejoin the festivities.” Octavion held out his hand.

Kira laid her hand in his and let him lead her out of the tent. “Good morning, Nigel,” she said as they passed.

He didn’t answer, of course, but she heard his footsteps fall in behind them.

Kira had only taken a few steps, when an image of bloody hands popped into her head. A split second later she heard an unfamiliar male voice bark her name from behind. Octavion lurched forward, breaking apart their clasped hands. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, Nigel hovering over her, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath wash across her face and neck. She tried to see around him, to get some sense of what had happened, but he was too big and the confusing sounds coming from behind him told her things were far from all right.

Octavion’s voice bellowed above the chaos. “Keep her down!”

“What’s happening?” Kira squirmed to get loose, but the slightest movement sent a pain up her left arm. She looked to her side where her bow lay in the dirt and caught sight of blood seeping from a small gash near her elbow. She healed it, wiped the blood on the grass as best she could then grabbed her bow. She gave Nigel a good whack on the back with it. “Get off me.”

Nigel shook his head and tightened his grip—one hand on her hip and the other on her waist—so tight she could hardly breathe.

“Nigel, you’re hurting me. Please let go.”

He shifted his weight, bracing his hands on the ground instead. It didn’t help much, because now he was lying on top of her, his weight pressing her into her quiver and the hard ground.

“What’s happening? I can’t see anything.” She tucked her other arm between them and tried to push him off, but he didn’t budge. “Nigel! Tell me what’s happening. I heard you call my name, so I know you can speak, now
tell me
.” She slammed her fist into his back.

He growled. Or maybe he cleared his throat. It was hard to tell. “A man. Crossbow. I saw him take aim.”

Though his words were choppy and gruff, they soothed her. His gift, she remembered. His voice could bring comfort to anyone who heard it. The very thought of him breaking his vow after years of silence, made her realize how serious the situation was and how much he cared for her. She could have been killed and he saved her life—again.

“Thank you for saving me.” She tried to take in a deep breath, but couldn’t. “I can’t breathe and my quiver is poking into my back. Please let me up.”

Nigel repositioned himself to give her more room, looking over his shoulder in the process. Screams rang out and someone yelled, “Run.”

In a surge of strength, Nigel lifted her from the ground in his arms and began running away from the commotion. The hammering of his footsteps vibrating through her body made her head feel like someone was using her skull for a drum.

“Nigel, put me down. We can run faster if you’re not carrying me.”

But her words didn’t slow his pace. He darted around the back of a large tent and changed directions. A few more steps and she heard a solid thud. Nigel arched back, turning her loose in the process. They both flew a few feet in the air before landing—Kira face down.

Pain pierced her knees where she’d hit the gravel path. She didn’t bother examining them. The Crystor sent healing the instant she felt the pain. She rolled to her side, pushed to her feet and retrieved her bow.

Her first thought was that Nigel had tripped, so she dismissed the fact that he was struggling to get up and took in the more urgent scene behind him. People ran in all directions, some into the forest and others to take shelter in the village. Through the crowd she glimpsed Octavion, his sword drawn, battling with three men half his size. Blayde wasn’t far off, taking on two men, his movements quick and deadly as one of his attackers fell to the ground from a powerful kick. She saw several men on horseback and a dozen or so others injured or lying motionless on the ground.

She looked to the left, in the direction she and Nigel had come from, and saw a man astride a huge horse, its white coat scarred and bloody. The mount tried more than once to throw the man, but was unsuccessful. A vicious kick of the man’s boots sent them both charging toward her, the man’s crossbow aimed at Kira. She notched an arrow and drew back her bow, and let it fly. Her arrow hit him in the chest a split second before his bolt sailed past her head.

The man fell to the ground, but the horse kept coming. She notched another arrow and took aim. Peering down the shaft at her target, she realized it wasn’t running at her, but
to
her. It stopped a few feet away and flipped its head into the air. And that’s when she recognized him.

“Althros?”

She lowered her bow, horrified at the sight of his battered and tortured frame. Her heart clenched. He’d obviously been beaten into submission. He flipped his head into the air again, this time screaming out a warning which brought Mahli running from around the nearby row of tents.

“Kira,” Nigel yelled, pulling her attention back to him. He’d managed to pull himself to his knees, one hand on the ground bracing his weight and the other reaching for her. “Run!” He slumped back to the ground, exposing a long shaft sticking out of his back.

Kira gasped. “Nigel!” She ran to his side and tried to help him up, but he pushed her away.

“No. Blood. Poison.”

“I don’t care. I’m not gonna let you die.” She forced his arm around her shoulder and with his help, pulled Nigel to his feet. “Come on. We need to get out of sight.”

With his arm still around her shoulder and neck, she wrapped her arm around his waist and led him between two tents. Blood from his wound soaked his back, making it hard for her to hold on. She tried to lower him carefully, but his legs gave out and she didn’t have the strength to hold him upright. He fell to the ground in a heap, the bolt slapping the side of the tent when he landed.

Nigel groaned with pain. “Pull it out,” he begged.

Crap!
She fell to her knees beside him. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you already are.” In the distance she could still see Mahli and Althros as they made their escape toward the tree line. “Mahli!” The cat could at least help with the pain.

Nigel grabbed her arm. “No. My blood. Poison.”

“I know, but . . .” He was right. If Mahli accidently got Darkord blood on her fur, then cleaned herself, she’d ingest it and die. It was bad enough Kira had his blood on her arm. She had no idea if it would burn her skin or soak into her blood stream, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.

Kira snapped her fingers and put her hand up when Mahli got closer. “Stay.” The cub stopped at the opening between the tents. She paced back and forth as though she were in a cage, pausing occasionally to growl or scratch at the dirt. Althros kept his distance, but seemed just as agitated.

Kira helped Nigel lay flat on his stomach, then took the bolt in her hand. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

Nigel grunted. “Yes.”

Kira took a deep breath. “Okay, on three.” She wasn’t sure whether to pull it out slow or rip it out fast like pulling off a Band-Aid. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, then opened them with a new determination. “One. Two.”
Oh, God. Please help me
. “Three.”

The first two or three inches came easily, then it felt as though it hung up on something. Nigel gripped the nearby tent stake and moaned so deeply Kira felt his pain. She grabbed the bolt with both hands and yanked hard. Nigel gasped for a breath as blood gurgled from the wound. He coughed several times, spitting blood out onto the ground. Another breath sent more blood bubbling from the hole in his back. The bolt had pierced his lung.