How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (24 page)

“Is that all?” Xavier asked, his voice a suspicious growl. Leawyn nodded as much as she could against his grip. “Yes! That’s all. I swear.”

Trying a different tactic to convince him, she leaned forward and kissed his chin. She placed her hand on his chest, stroking it soothingly. “I promise I won’t try to leave you. I only want to see the ocean. Maybe my old handmaiden, she was like a mother to me. See my father again . . .” she trailed off.

Xavier continued to be silent, knowing what she was trying to do. But her desperation and willingness pleased him, and he could use it to his advantage. Decided, he grabbed her hair again and tugged it downward until her neck was arched and she was looking up into his dark eyes once more.

“You will stop fighting me,” he told her. “You will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. You will stay by my side,
 always.” 
Her eyes widened, both in shock and excitement, and she quickly agreed.

Xavier smirked, trailing his finger down her cheek again. “I’m not done.”

Leawyn paused uncertainly. “When we get back, you will give me a baby.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and her body started to tremble.

“You will get my mark,” he trailed his hand down her body, watching its descent until it stopped on her hip, “right here.” Xavier stared at his fingers splayed over her naked hip. “And it will be the old, traditional way.”

He felt Leawyn shudder, and she closed her eyes, presumably to hide her dread from him. The marking ceremony was very uncommon to most of the tribes and rarely used. It took place in front of all the men of the tribe to witness the mark being placed, to make it known the woman is forever owned.

The mark itself was a tattoo of the husband’s family symbol. Taking pleasure in a marked woman’s body, without the husband’s permission, was punishable by death. Death to both the offending lover . . . and the wife.

Using ink to tattoo the mark on the skin was the new way; the old way was much more barbaric, and much more painful. It resembled the way you would mark a horse. A heated iron wrought with the desired symbol was burned onto the skin, etching the brand and leaving a permanent scar of the symbol.

It had stopped being the common practice more than a hundred moons ago.

Either way, the fire branding was stronger than marriage and the tattoo mark. For even if a branded woman’s husband were to die in battle, she could never marry or lay with another man again.

No man would take her.

It was the most absolute way of ownership and possession.

Leawyn closed her eyes tightly, a lone tear slowly trailing down her smooth cheek as her lip quivered. Xavier watched her, giving her a moment. “Are we understood?”

He waited, until finally, her body deflated and she gave a slight jerk of her head, nodding her consent while staring at the floor.

Xavier cupped her cheek and made her look at him, and kissed her lips softly.

“Good girl,” he breathed out before claiming her lips completely in a hungry, primal kiss that oozed satisfaction. He pulled back and turned her so his chest pressed against her back. Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned down to her ear. “Now, get dressed, and pack a bag. We’re leaving as soon as you’re done.” Xavier gave her an encouraging nudge toward her chest containing her clothes.

When she took two steps away from him, he reached for his dagger on the floor and quickly unsheathed it. His arm shot out swiftly and silently, pulling her back against him roughly.

“If you break your word to me, Leawyn . . .” Xavier raised the small dagger and held it in front of her to see before he lowered it slowly to rest against her throat. She hissed when he pressed the steel just hard enough to make a small cut below her throat.

“I will kill you, and send your body back to the Rhoxolani you miss so much, and into your father’s hands. And any alliance we have set up will be broken. All because the chief’s daughter didn’t know how to behave.”

Leawyn trembled in his arms, but he tilted his head to bite her earlobe. Her breath hitched.

“Then, I will kill them all.”

Xavier turned and exited their hut, leaving his young wife to stand there trembling in shock and horror.

The travel to Rhoxolani was long, but it was worth it the minute Leawyn smelled the ocean air. When she heard the call of seagulls, her body tightened with excitement, causing Killix to flick his ears forward.

When she heard the sounds of waves crashing against the rocks, she smiled.

When her village first came into view on the crest of the cliffs, she could do nothing to try to hold back the tears.

When they got closer, Leawyn couldn’t hold in her cry.

There were bodies everywhere, dead.

Nothing was left of her village except the charred remains of some of the huts.

The Rhoxolani had been destroyed.

“NOOO!”

She didn’t give Xavier any time to stop her from throwing herself off Killix’s back. She faltered but scrambled forward, stumbling in her haste. She threw herself down, grabbing her hair against her face as she stared out in horror.

“No!” she moaned pitifully, shaking her head against her tears. “No, no, no!” she wailed, choking against her sobs.

“Leawyn . . .” Her husband’s hand touched her shoulder gently. “We need to go.”

Leawyn shook her head, shrugging his hand off her.

“Leawyn—” he tried again, pulling her towards him. “We need to go, Leawyn.”

“No! Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against his hold, turning into his chest and raising her small fists, beating them against him.

“Leawyn!” Xavier shouted, narrowly avoiding her nails as she went to scratch his eyes. “Leawyn!” he screamed into her face, shaking her roughly until she stopped.

“We need to go,” he said sternly. She could barely see from the tears spilling over her eyes, but she could tell his expression softened, and he brushed her hair away from her face with gentle fingers.

“It’s not safe here. We need to go,” he said more gently as slowly lifted her up with him.

She could barely walk, and her legs gave out halfway to his horse. Xavier swooped her up and placed her on top of Killix before swinging himself up.

“Ten of you stay, look for any survivors,” he ordered quickly before yanking Killix’s head around by the reins and taking off at a full gallop, leaving her tribe’s grave behind them.

They rode past a lone pike with a human head on top of it.

Leawyn’s father.

T
HEY WERE IN
their spot.

It was the spot Leawyn would always run to when she wanted to play, when she was sad, or when she needed to escape from the duties that were expected of her as the chief’s daughter.

Leawyn knew Asten would always be there, waiting for her. He was her best friend, her savior.

If only he could save her from
him
.

“Lea . . .”

Leawyn closed her eyes briefly, his gravelly voice washed over her, and she wanted to savor the sound. She knew their time was coming to an end.

“Look at me, Leawyn.”

Asten used her full name. Leawyn could do nothing but fight the sting of tears. He only used her full name when he was serious. Asten was many things, but serious was not one of them. Leawyn didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to hear what she knew he was going to say.

She didn’t want to say goodbye.His hand cupped her chin gently and urged her to look up at him. He knew, and he wasn’t giving her a choice. Leawyn stopped fighting him and opened her eyes.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, she thought.

Asten smiled. It was a sad, gentle smile. He brushed his thumb underneath her eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Lea.”

The tears she fought so hard to keep back slid down her cheeks.

“You’re strong, and smart. You’ll be fine,” he continued.

Leawyn bit her lip against the sob that wanted to escape.

“Let’s just run away,” Leawyn whispered. She grew desperate when Asten’s frown deepened and he sighed sadly. “We can take a boat, sail east and make our own way. No one can find us, we—”

Asten placed his finger on Leawyn’s lips, silencing her.

“You know we can’t.” He shook his head, pushing a lock of golden hair away from her damp cheek.

“Why?” Leawyn’s voice cracked with tears. “Why can’t we?” He tugged her into his arms. She pressed her face against his tunic, soaking it with her sobs.

“Because you don’t deserve that life, Leawyn.You deserve better.” Leawyn sobbed harder when his voice wavered, unsteady with his emotion. She was about to lose her best friend as well as her freedom.

“Don’t say it. Please don’t say it,” she begged, barely able to speak through her ragged breaths. “I don’t want to say goodbye. Please!”

Asten didn’t say anything back, just pulled her tighter against him and let her cry until she exhausted herself to the point of sleep. No matter how hard Leawyn blinked, she couldn’t fight the darkness trying to take her.

She was on the verge of sleep when his soft voice broke through the fog enough for her to hear him.

“I love you, Leawyn.”

Leawyn relaxed against him and let sleep claim her, his lone tear mixed with her own.

The next morning, he was gone. Even when Leawyn returned to their spot days later, he still didn’t return.

After a week, she stopped waiting for him and accepted what she already knew—that night he said goodbye and let her go.

L
EAWYN CONTINUED TO
cry into Xavier’s arms as he sprinted Killix away from her decimated village.

All her once-vibrant and beautiful people, who were loving and strong, laid waste behind them in a giant charred mess.

They didn’t deserve that.

Her father . . .

Brees . . .

Leawyn let out another sob, nearly crumbling with her grief.

They were gone.

All gone.

She was the last, the sole Rhoxolani.

She truly was an Izayges now.

“How could we have missed this?” Xavier thundered as he paced furiously in front of Tyronian, throwing him a murderous glare as he did.