Crystal Moon (26 page)

Gleefully, DiSanti toyed with Kyne, making him dance to the

tune of his sword.

“I know you, Rul Cathor. Outlaws indeed. I should have

guessed this was naught but a trap. Do you even have my

daughter?”

“Of course.” Kyne laughed. “How badly do you want her

back? Her marriage to Prince Timon will solidify your hold on

the throne. What do you offer in exchange for her life?” The

words tasted foul on Kyne’s lips. He stalled, trying to distract

his opponent. He needed time for his men to reach him.

“Where is she? Tell me, or I’ll kill you now!” DiSanti feinted

to the right.

“You can try.” Kyne danced left. The blade flickered inches

from his eyes.

DiSanti seemed to study the length of his sword. “Your

father died on this blade. He begged for his life,” he taunted. “I

granted his wish, long enough for him to watch me ride his

wife, then slit her throat and listen to her moans of pleasure

turn to strangling as her life’s blood stained the ground at his

feet.”

“My father would never beg!” Enraged, Kyne lunged.

DiSanti danced out of reach. “Temper. Temper. Remember

your lessons, pup. A swordsman must always remain in control.”

His blade flashed, slicing Kyne’s left arm from shoulder to elbow.

Pain cooled his rage. He eyed DiSanti’s stance, the graceful

movement of his sword. If he’d had his sword, he and DiSanti

would be evenly matched. Without it he was a cornered rodent

to DiSanti’s lyon.

“Aubin also tasted of my blade. I used it to carve him as I

would a plump hen for my dinner.”

“You killed him for the crime of loving your daughter.”

DiSanti’s eyes glittered with madness. His sword swayed

erratically. “I killed him for being Cathor spawn. Slaughtered

him like I would a shoat for stealing what was mine!” He lunged

again.

Clutching his injured arm, Kyne fell back from DiSanti’s

attack. A quick glance told him his men were still too far away

to hear his call. He stumbled on the rough ground, fell and

rolled. DiSanti pressed forward. His blade nicked Kyne’s cheek.

“My blade is thirsty for more Cathor blood. First it will

drink yours. Then your sister’s and any who would side with

you against me.”

The other sounds of battle died away. DiSanti glanced over

his shoulder and went still for a moment.

Two men raced toward them. At this distance Kyne could

not tell whose men.

“Your men are defeated, DiSanti. It’s over. Surrender to

me, and I promise you a fair trial. Or my men will strike you

down where you stand.” Honor demanded Kyne speak the

words, but he threw them like arrows at DiSanti’s pride.

DiSanti growled. “But they’ll not reach us before I kill you.

Be still, Cathor and I promise to kill you quickly. Trouble me

more, and I’ll fillet you like a fish.”

“Come then and do so.” A cool battle calm took hold of

Kyne. His heels hung over the edge of a cliff. One step more,

and he’d fall to his death and save DiSanti the trouble.

“With pleasure.” He started to lunge.

“Face me, you coward!” Lisha shouted. Sword flashing,

she attacked.

DiSanti whirled and blocked her blow. Swords clashed.

“You!” With a howl of unholy rage, DiSanti struck out and

knocked her arm wide. His blade slashed down her throat and

across her chest.

Surprise registered on her face. Then blood welled. Over

DiSanti’s shoulder her eyes met Kyne’s in a mute plea. The

sword dropped from her fingers.

DiSanti raised his sword and lunged.

Kyne sprang forward. Too late. From the left a man jumped

between Lisha and DiSanti. DiSanti’s sword skewered him.

Leaving the sword, DiSanti jumped back. “Tell Prince Timon

his mother and sister shall pay for his betrayal,” he shouted,

then turned and fled.

Kyne let him go as he caught Je’al in his arms. He gently

eased Je’al down and tested the depth of the sword in his chest.

Je’al blinked owlishly and gave a crooked grin. “It doesn’t

hurt as much as I feared.” Blood gushed from his mouth. He

coughed and slumped into death, eyes wide and unseeing.

Like Aubin, Je’al died, a smile on his lips, in Kyne’s arms.

Hatred burst anew in Kyne’s heart. He would see DiSanti die

by inches and snuff the DiSanti name from the world.

Next to Kyne, Lisha’s eyes rolled back in her head, and

she crumpled to the ground. Crimson stained her once white

shirt from shoulder to waist. He pressed his hand to the bleeding

wound. Warm and red, blood seeped up through his fingers to

mingle with Je’al’s and his own dripping from his arm.

A group of his men approached silently.

Hamon knelt beside Kyne. “We’ve a need to stop the

bleeding.” He touched Kyne’s injured arm.

Kyne jerked away. “Your shirt, Hamon. Press it to her

wound.”

Hamon shook his head. “She’s all but gone, my lord.”

“She will not die.”

Through clenched teeth Kyne hissed orders at his men while

he tightly bound Lisha’s chest with strips of cloth.

Now her only chance of survival lay up a treacherous

mountain trail. Caution told him that to attempt the climb at

night would result in his death, but to wait would doom the

woman. Blood drained from her body despite all efforts to

stanch its flow. First light would see her dead.

So Kyne put Hamon in charge, sent them on to Prince

Timon and began the ascent. DiSanti’s death would have to

wait until another day. Kyne could only pray that DiSanti realized

he’d been lured out of the palace and betrayed, and would not

attempt to return there until he’d gathered his forces.

Sianna’s final words haunted Kyne. What foreknowledge

of events did she have? What were these women to each other?

In what way other than as a brave comrade in arms was this

woman important to him? He’d never seen Lisha before, and

she claimed no political connections. Was he foolish to risk

both their lives on the chance Sianna could save Lisha’s?

Fifteen

An unborn scream on her dry lips, Sianna bolted upright in

bed. In the darkness, icy sweat beaded her brow and slithered

down her back. She pressed a palm to her chest to calm her

racing heart and looked around. Other than the crackle of the

fire and Warda’s whiffling snores, the chamber lay still and

quiet. Yet something woke her. Evil stalked the night and

threatened all she held dear.

Closing her eyes, she mentally sought out those she loved:

Katya, sleeping peacefully; Graham, stirring in restless

discomfort. Zoa. Etam. Betha. All were well. She tried to sense

Laila, but could feel nothing of her sister.

Dread lodged inside Sianna as she reached out for Kyne

and prayed for the power to break through the barrier between

them.

Physical pain slammed into her, but she knew his injury

was—at least in his own mind—minor. Like angry waves

against a rocky shore his confused emotions battered her.

Determination set his course.

He was returning and would arrive soon. She scrambled

from the bed, hastily flung on her clothing, then paused as another

emotion struck her. Grief. For whom did Kyne grieve?

Seeking to strengthen the bond between them, she touched

his thoughts. Faces and images flickered in her mind, none clear.

She could not sort his jumbled emotions. He lived. It was enough.

For now.

Moving quietly through the dimly lit corridors of the castle,

she woke Althea and together they readied the infirmary.

“Who is there?” Graham’s voice came from Althea’s

chamber.

Sianna hadn’t yet moved him back to his own quarters.

With most of the men gone, the few left at the castle were too

busy to take the time to carry Graham up the steep stairs.

Besides, they feared the bite of his sharp tongue. The stronger

he became the more he chafed at his inactivity and helplessness.

Only Katya had the fortitude to face the sardak in his cave. He

didn’t thank her for it, but neither did he chase her away.

She stepped into the doorway. “Kyne is returning. There

are injuries. I am preparing.”

Graham leaned over and lit a lamp. In its glow, Sianna saw

Katya stretched out on a pallet near his bed.

“Are you sure? Kyne must be desperate to risk climbing

the mountain trail in the dark.” He ignored the woman sleeping

at his side. “Who is injured?”

“I am unsure, but they will be here before morning.”

Katya sat up and blinked. “Kyne is hurt?”

“Yes, but I don’t believe seriously.”

“I’ll help you prepare.” In the small chamber, Katya’s hip

bumped Graham’s bare shoulder as she stood. She stumbled.

Before she tumbled across his lap, he caught her shoulders.

For a minute she rested in his strong grip, their lips nearly

touching.

A sensual cloud of repressed longing heated the air in the

tiny chamber. Sianna caught her breath.

Color flared in Katya’s cheeks, and she scrambled upright.

Head bowed she mumbled something incoherent and hurried

out.

Graham grinned and, arms folded over his broad chest,

relaxed back against the wall. “The little pika grows wary of

the kite.”

“A wise mouse knows to flee from a bird of prey before

she’s caught in his talons.”

With a thoughtful frown, Graham flexed his battle-scarred

fingers. “My talons will never pierce her soft skin.”

“It’s not her flesh she fears will be torn asunder, rather her

tender heart.” She wrapped one of his large hands inside her

own smaller ones. “Hold it with care.”

He touched her cheek. “How is it one so young is so wise?”

The warmth of his touch and the depth of his affection for

her eased the chill of fear in Sianna’s heart. Among this small

band of desperate rebels she’d found the home and the family

her father had long denied her. Praying silently that her father

wouldn’t destroy them, she followed Katya to the infirmary to

await Kyne.

Near dawn a sentry called out Kyne’s arrival. Dread lodged

in Sianna’s throat at the sight emerging from the mist; a blood-

splattered man leading a quinar with a limp form draped over

its broad back. The acrid tang of blood and sweat corrupted

the crisp night air.

“Laila!” The name burst from her lips. She rushed to her

sister’s side.

Beneath the pallid skin of Laila’s throat a faint pulse still

throbbed. Blood soaked the makeshift bandages binding her

chest.

Disturbed by the sentry’s cry, people emerged slowly from

the castle. They rubbed sleep from their eyes while they

struggled to walk and dress at the same time. A small crowd

formed around Kyne and Sianna.

“Help me get her to the infirmary.” Swallowing her sick

fear, she directed two young men to lift Laila from Hakan’s

back and carry her into the castle.

Over Laila’s body, Sianna’s eyes locked with Kyne’s angry

glare. He’d heard her involuntary cry. He now knew Laila’s

true identity, the depth of her lie. Did he understand what he

would lose if Laila died?

He leaned toward her, blood tricking from a cut on his cheek

and staining his torn clothing. “What other lies do you conceal?”

His whisper scraped her raw conscience. “Althea, please

see to Rul Cathor’s injuries.” She pulled herself away from his

silent accusations and followed Laila into the castle.

Kyne brushed Althea aside and berated himself for not

seeing the obvious sooner. Everything he’d learned about Sianna

had told him she could not have seduced and betrayed Aubin,

but he’d clung to that scenario, never guessing the truth.

DiSanti had two daughters. Laila and Sianna. Despite

Kyne’s best information, DiSanti had managed to conceal this

fact. He’d hidden Sianna’s existence from everyone.

Unwilling to brave his angry scowls, the small crowd

dispersed back to their beds. None seemed to have heard

Sianna’s startling revelation, which was just as well. Hatred for

DiSanti would put both women’s lives in jeopardy.

Did she carry Aubin’s child? Was that small living link to

his brother doomed to die because of his failure and Sianna’s

silence?

Brushing aside the few who attempted to see to him, he

turned Hakan over to the stable master and stalked into the

castle.

Inside, the castle was awake. The scent of baking bread

and frying meat floated through the great hall as Betha

supervised the morning meal. A few sleepy-eyed children played

quietly near the hearth while their mothers stirred the embers

to flame.

In the infirmary Althea and Sianna bent over Laila’s

motionless body. Katya stood to one side ready to fetch and

carry as directed. Several other people formed a ragged circle

around the women.

Helpless to do anything but watch, Kyne slipped into

Althea’s chamber.

“Welcome home, my lord. How went the battle?”

“DiSanti’s force was defeated, but he escaped. With any

luck Prince Timon’s men gained control of the palace in DiSanti’s