Black Moon Draw (35 page)

He wanted . . .
needed
to save her. His soul quivered with the despair brought on by the thought of watching her die. One night with the woman who brought him back to life and gave him hope was not enough.

The Shadow Knight crossed to the window and braced his hands on either side. It was harder than usual to know what time of day it was; the black clouds above his castle shunted out even more sunlight than usual. It was lightening outside despite the fog, and he judged it to be around mid-morning.

He had dreamt since he was five of seeing the blue sky during his reign. Instead, the heavens had turned black because he was unable to stop it.

His eyes swept over the city. Tens of thousands of people waited for him to awaken them from their slumbers and revive their world. They, too, would perish before the sun set, along with every other person in the realm.

And Naia.

The pain was back.

He pushed away from the window and pulled on his breeches and boots, unable to think clearly whenever his mind went to her. He wanted to crawl into bed beside her and make love to her up until the very last moment of their existence. He had swept them both into pleasure unknown before last night, and it was not enough.

Accustomed to solving his problems through battle, he stood and thought hard, pulling on his tunic. Never before was he willing to listen to Naia’s insistence there was more than one way to resolve the conflict between Black Moon Draw and Brown Sun Lake. Mayhap it was pride, arrogance, or desperation, but he wished now he had tried a different approach at least once. The reasoning that it never worked for his predecessors suddenly seemed foolish, especially when he considered that neither had battle.

Strapping on his weapons, he snatched up the boar’s head worn by every Shadow Knight for a thousand years and hesitated, gaze going to the woman sleeping in his bed.

Her face glowed, even in sleep. Naia was curled up on her side, clutching a pillow, her dark hair spilling over the pillow.

He did not deserve to touch her, not last night, not now. A victor deserved a queen.

A coward deserved death.

If he was not able to find another way to do the impossible and save the woman who held his heart, then he would die trying.

Placing the boar’s head over his own, he turned away and strode to the door, determined to find the Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake among the changing maze of the castle.

Totally. Worth. It. I had no idea sex could be so consuming and offer so much pleasure, both physically and mentally. Atreyu was more than I expected, almost too much to handle at points, reminding me in honeyed growls to trust him and submit, no matter what he asked me to do or what position he put my body in. He takes the word
obedience
to a whole new level.

I have absolutely no regrets. The moment my eyes open in the morning, I crave him with inhuman yearning.

Stretching luxuriously, my utter contentment is interrupted only by soreness in muscles I didn’t know existed before last night. It’s light outside, and a cold breeze sweeps into the bedchamber. With a delicious shiver, I pat the bed beside me, expecting to feel the warm skin coating his ripped body. I’m ready for another round of his voracious appetite to warm me up.

He’s not there.

I sit up, happiness turning to alarm. It’s the last day of this world. Reality returns and my chest grows tight.

He’s not anywhere, and the boar head is gone, along with his weapons. I can think of one reason for that – that he found a new battle to fight – but don’t have any idea what he might be planning to do after his utter desolation last night.

If I know men, it’s probably something really stupid. What happens if I don’t see him again before this is over? If we end up wandering lost through the mazes of the castle up until sunset?

Uncontrollable fear smashes into me. I scramble out of bed, dress clumsily, and quickly summon the outhouse. My inner thighs tremble too much for me to keep my thighs together and newly discovered muscles in my pelvis and abs making me yowl aloud at one point.

I won’t get far without stretching and take a few precious minutes to do a simple, ten-minute yoga routine, scowling and whimpering all the way. It’s like getting fat. It feels so good doing it, but man does it hurt when you’re trying to do things differently. Thank god I’m flexible or I’d have torn something last night.

I’d do it again every day for the rest of my life.
My breath sticks in my throat. It’s not just my core that aches for him; it’s my heart, too. My stomach is twisting with fear and dread, the butterflies that have plagued me since we met are frenzied this time, terrified I met my true love, only for me never to see him again.

Spurred by such thoughts, I hurry to the door and open it, stopping in the doorway. It’s light outside with the sun ball in the middle of the sky, visible through the center window in the bank of seven along the far wall.

The hallways, however, remain dark, cold, foggy.

Dangerous.

I shudder and creep back into the room. “Anyone wanna turn on the lights for a lowly battle-witch?” I call softly into the scary hall.

Torches spring to life to my right. I frown. It’s not like I gave them directions on where to take me. Does that mean . . . what? I’m about to be dropped into a maze? Wandering blind? Trusting the curse – the one about to kill everyone – to guide me, since Atreyu made it clear he isn’t in charge of the magic that brought me to him?

“I don’t have a choice,” I whisper. “I need to find him. Don’t let it end like this, LF.”

Nothing changes. I instinctively check my hand only to find my palm blank.

’Tis because no woman has ever touched my heart the way you have.

I groan as I recall the fiercely whispered words. I’m panicking for a different reason – one tied to the idea I may have somehow lost him already. It’s a nauseating thought, one that spurs me to blast full force into becoming the woman I need to be.

No doubt, no hesitation, no holding back. Fiction or reality – this is my life, and I want him in it.

I sprint. “Take me to him!” I cry, not caring who or what is in charge of the maze at this point. I run through the hallways, one step behind the next torch that lights up. They lead me up and down stairs, through hallways with no doors and hallways with doors that reach the forty-foot ceilings, past windows I don’t stop to look out of and on and on.

Too soon, it’s difficult for me to breathe and even harder to lift my heavy legs.

I swear to god – after this adventure, I’m taking up some cardio. This is ridiculous. I was never meant to be in a land with no elevators or cars.

Assuming there is an
after
. At this point, I don’t need a happily-ever-after. I’ll settle for the sun rising tomorrow, no matter what kind of mess I have to clean up, so long as he’s alive.

Shit.
I’m forced to slow, unable to breathe fast enough. Pausing in a hallway, I watch torches down the hall flare to life and rest my hand against the wall. I suck down deep breaths until I’m ready enough, and then take off again, chasing the torches, driven by the thought that the one man in any world who makes me want to live is in danger.

I don’t make it nearly as far before stopping again to breathe. “Holy . . . Hell!” I gasp and rest my forehead against the cool stone. “How big . . . is this . . . place!” Pushing away, I stumble, catch myself, and go as fast as I can.

Down another stairwell, this one at least three stories tall. I always thought going down stairs was easier than up, but by the time I reach the landing at the bottom, my thighs hurt too badly for me to view any direction of stairs favorably.

It’s then I hear it, a sound that pulls me out of my misery.

Metal-on-metal. Swords clashing.

Who the hell is fighting?
I don’t have the lung capacity to say the words aloud and hurry forward at a quick walk. My legs are rubber and heavy, a combination that renders them unsteady at best; I’m afraid to go any faster.

The sound grows louder. Torches light up a narrow stairwell of less than twenty steps, leading to what appears to be a balcony, like in a theatre. Clutching a wooden handrail, I make it up the stairs to see a single row of leather chairs surrounding a central banquet hall. The sword fight comes from below. From this angle, I can’t see who’s fighting. Before I can lean over the railing, someone takes my arm.

I jump and yank away, looking up into the Red Knight’s face. “What’re you doing here?” I whisper.

“My sister told me what happened. I came to reason with Shadow. I wandered the entire night in this forsaken place before stumbling upon this place.” His gaze scours my features. “How did you find us?”

“I don’t really know. The castle likes me,” I reply. “Wait, who is
us
?” Peering around him, I spot two more forms in the shadows. “Oh. You brought them?”

“I brought your squire to assist me in negotiating with that brute. My sister’s . . . bonded found me here.”

My squire is on his feet, eyes wide and features hopeful. Westley, however, looks rough, like he’s spent the night walking through the hold as well.

“Then who’s down there?” I ask, starting towards the railing.

“Mayhap you should not watch,” the Red Knight takes my arm.

I pull free and go to the railing, leaning over it.

Dancing atop rows of dusty tables are the Shadow Knight and the Desert Knight, both shirtless and sweating hard as they battle one another with swords and axes. The sight of Atreyu’s body ensnares my gaze, and I lean farther, needing to catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent. My thoughts explode with images of our lovemaking from last night. And then it hits me.

I’m witnessing the final battle with Brown Sun Lake.

The one where the Shadow Knight is supposed to die.

“No, no, no!” Whirling, I dart for the stairs, ready to put a stop to this. We’re doomed today anyway; I’m not going to watch him die.

“Wait!” the Red Knight calls.

Evading his attempt to grab me, I fly down the stairs and look around wildly for the torches to show me where to go.

All of them are lit. There’s no way to know which direction is the one that’ll lead me to the Shadow Knight.

“Halt!” the Red Knight snatches my arm hard and yanks me back to the stairwell. “You need listen to this, Naia.”

I look up at my name, urgency, yearning, and fear threatening to tear me apart.

“This battle is necessary. ‘Tis the only way we know to stop the curse.”

Staring at him, I can’t speak, my throat tight.

“The Desert Knight refused all reasoning,” he continues more softly. “But he agreed to a duel. The victor claims triumph over all the realm. The Shadow Knight has never been bested in combat.”

“Nor the Desert Knight,” my squire says from the top of the stairs.

“Did I not warn you about speaking out?” the Red Knight snaps at him.

“Aye, m’lord.” The squire’s gaze is on me.

“When I wish you to impart your news, I will direct you to do so.”

I can’t muster the smile I want to at the abashed squire. Genuinely happy to see him alive and well, not shoved under a bench seat in the Red Knight’s carriage, I’m also a blink away from exploding.

“Let me go,” I say hoarsely.

“Do you not see?” the Red Knight asks, frowning. “When the Shadow Knight wins, he will have conquered all the realms. My brother-by-bonding will not take his father’s place; he understands why we are here and I will swear allegiance to any man if it prevents the death of my realm.”

A trickle of hope creeps through me, followed by doubt as I recall what he asked me for, a way back to my world. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“You will have a lifetime to find a way to do so.”

I shake my head and test his grip. He’s not letting me go. “You don’t understand! The Shadow Knight dies in battle with the Desert Knight!”

“How do you know? Have you magic?”

“No. But . . .” How to explain I read it in a book before coming here? I gasp. “You know the person who sent me, the one you want to find?”

He nods.

“She declared it so before I came. It was in a message of sorts. At the final battle between the Shadow and Desert Knights, the Shadow Knight is mortally wounded.”

The Red Knight’s chiseled features are hard to read. There’s concern in his gaze. “He must live to face the curse after defeating his enemies.”

“I was supposed to do that,” I say, voice breaking. I clear my throat. “Before the medallion was destroyed.”

“Sire!” Westley calls softly from the top of the stairs. “Come quickly!”

“What? Is he hurt?” I demand.

“Nay, witch. The Shadow Knight’s sword has broken.”

I wrench away from the Red Knight and start running.
Take me to him!
I scream at the magic of the castle. Torches flicker and I trail them down a set of stairs and to a hallway wide enough for two buses to drive through. Two wide wooden doors lead into the banquet hall and I stop before them, pounding on one.

“Open!” I give a frustrated yell.

There’s a creak and then one of them obeys, deliberately swinging open towards me. I don’t wait for it and squeeze through the opening, running into the hall.

I see neither of them and pause to listen for the sounds of swords. It, too, is gone.

“Don’t mess with me!” I cry at the castle, eyes blurring with tears. My heart is near the point of combustion.

A groan.

Uncertain what I heard, I hold my breath, willing my thoughts quiet, too.

It’s coming from the other side of the hall.

Skirting the tables, I slow long enough at each break between rows to look between them.

And then I see them. Both men are on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies.

“Atreyu!” I gasp and dash towards him. Dropping to my knees, I don’t notice the blood that splashes up and instead, shakily reach to take his pulse.