How The Warrior Fell (Falling Warriors series Book 1) (33 page)

“You look sickly. I think I should get the healer.” Namoriee worried her lip between her teeth, her eyes concerned.

Leawyn did feel sickly. Her normally lightly tanned skin was now a shallow pale white. Her slight frame was every so often wracked with shivers as if she were cold, but she was actually hot and sweaty.

Her symptoms pointed to fever. “I’m fine, Namoriee,” Leawyn all but croaked out. Which did not help to alleviate Namoriee’s worry in the slightest. If anything, her handmaiden looked even more concerned. “I think the heat just got to me today.”

Namoriee’s frown deepened, unconvinced.

“Lady Chief—“

“Leawyn,” Leawyn corrected halfheartedly in a mumble, which caused Namoriee to roll her eyes in response.

“Fine, Leawyn,” Namoriee amended wryly. “You need to see the healer.”

Leawyn shook her head, pulling the blanket higher up on her shoulders and closing her eyes. “I just need to rest. I’ll feel better then.”

Namoriee’s mouth opened to respond, but she was interrupted by Leawyn’s hut door opening.

Namoriee tensed when Tyronian’s tall, blond frame ducked through and closed the door behind him. Tyronian caught her eyes when he turned to face them, and his lips pulled up in a smirk.

“Ah, my two favorite, beautiful ladies—just who I wanted to see!” Tyronian said jovially as he made his way to them. “I’ve come to escort you to the feast. Xavier is a bit indisposed at the moment.”

Namoriee turned away, looking down so her mop of brown hair covered her face and shielded her from his view. Tyronian’s smirk broadened at the action, but he otherwise let it go. He turned his attention to Leawyn instead, and his smile immediately disappeared into a frown.

“You look terrible. You should see the healer.”

“Not you too, Tyronian,” Leawyn groaned tiredly, peeking one eye open up at him. “I just got done telling Namoriee I was fine and needed 
rest. 
Which is exactly the same thing I’ll tell you.” Leawyn shut her eyes when they became too heavy to hold open.

“I need rest,” Leawyn mumbled into her pillow.

“But, Lady Chief—” Namoriee started to protest.

“Enough!” Leawyn snapped, eyes popping open again with her frustration. “I’m fine, I just want to sleep!”

Namoriee shut her mouth and looked down while Tyronian tensed, eyeing Leawyn.

“Please,” Leawyn said less sharply. “Just let me rest a moment, and I’ll meet you out there.”

“Yes, Lady Chief,” Namoriee mumbled softly, giving her one last worried look before she turned to make her way from the hut and to the feast.

Namoriee’s body tensed again when a warm hand grasped around her arm and drew her to a sudden stop.

“I’ll walk with you,” Tyronian said lightly, as he drew up beside her. Leawyn noticed he didn’t give her much of a choice when he forcibly tucked Namoriee’s arm into the crook of his elbow and guided her with him to the door.

“Sleep well, Leawyn,” Tyronian called over his shoulder as he opened the door and ushered Namoriee out with a hand resting on her lower back.

The distant sounds of loud laughter and chatter floated into Leawyn’s hut for a brief moment before the door closing instantly silenced it.

Leawyn sighed in relief as she burrowed deeper into the comforts of her bed.

A few moments later, she was sound asleep.

The farewell feast was already well underway when Xavier emerged from the meeting hut. His muscles ached from being in a slouched position as he went over the plan for hours. He wanted to make sure they didn’t miss anything, and they were prepared to have a course of action if they did.

Hours and hours Xavier stood over the map. Thought over every angle and possibility, and something didn’t sit right with him. The fact he thought of asking Leawyn if she knew someone within her tribe who could have been a traitor crossed his mind multiple times. But each time it surfaced, he quickly pushed the thought away. But still . . . something felt wrong.

Xavier growled under his breath in frustration.

“Hungry, or angry?” Tyronian asked in amusement.

Xavier hesitated for a moment, the move barely distinguishable, before he sat down at the table, his mug filled with ale instantly by a serving girl.

Xavier glanced at Tyronian out of the corner of his eye. He hid his smirk around his cup as he took a deep pull of the pale liquid inside.

Namoriee was, once again, perched on Tyronian’s lap, looking as uncomfortable as ever as Tyronian softly twirled a strand of her chocolate hair. His arm wrapped tight around her waist to anchor her there.

Xavier frowned, lowering his mug down on the table. Namoriee was there but . . .

“Where is my wife?”

Namoriee stiffened in Tyronian’s lap at Xavier’s growl. Tyronian’s hands paused before he continued to stroke his fingers through her hair, as if to soothe her.

Xavier gritted his teeth when no one answered him.

He turned his full attention to Namoriee, who seemed to shrink into herself under his gaze. “Why isn’t she here, and why aren’t you with her?”

“I-I was b-but . . .”

Xavier’s impatience with her halted answer was evident, which only made Namoriee more frazzled.

“I stole Namoriee away from my dear cousin earlier when they were in your hut,” Tyronian drawled, calmly turning his attention to Xavier. “She’s probably still there.”

Xavier’s expression darkened. He stood from his chair and looked down at the sixteen-year-old. “Your job is to be with her. I can easily find someone else to take your place.”

“Yes, C-C-Chief Xavier,” Namoriee whispered, quickly looking down so her hair hid her face. Tyronian’s grip around Namoriee’s waist tightened as he scowled up at Xavier.

Xavier turned his gaze to Tyronian. “The second your little obsession interferes again, she’s gone.”

“Perhaps you should look after your obsession better then, instead of bullying mine,” Tyronian replied coldly, his stare steady as he met Xavier’s eyes.

Namoriee sucked in a quick breath in shock.

Xavier ground his back molars together but said nothing in reply before he stormed off. He took long, angry strides towards his hut, his anger mounting with each step. He was still seething with anger when he burst into his hut. “Leawyn!” he bellowed angrily.

“Leawyn, where are you—”

Xavier froze at the sight before him before he quickly moved into action. “Leawyn!”

L
EAWYN STARED OUT
at the dark ocean, watching the white foam fly high into the air as the dark green waves crashed against the cliffs, the force of the collision creating a deafening boom akin to the sound of thunder.

It was hypnotizing to watch . . . the dance of the ocean.

It was a constant game of catch and release. The ocean water formed into a great wave, recklessly charging up to the jagged cliffs, unafraid of the doom that awaited. Then, when the wave slammed home, its foamy white water flying in all directions, the calm current would gather the destruction in its watery, comforting arms. Over and over, the daring and heartbreaking cycle would repeat.

Catch and release. Catch and release.

It comforted Leawyn to sit and watch the playful but deadly dance. It was why she often found herself sitting in this exact spot, in this exact position, when her mind was troubled and her emotions too strong for her to hold.

Here, on the cliffs. Watching the waves with her knees pulled up to her chest, she hugged her legs with her arms as she rested her cheek against her knees. Her hair blew playfully behind her, the golden locks catching the light of the moon as it whipped and twirled in the wind.

The salty air stung her cheek as the single tear spilled over it before being swept away.

She felt so alone.

Leawyn’s throat burned from the effort it took not to let the sob caught in her throat break free. She needed to be strong.

Her people needed her to be strong.

But . . . they were dead. How could she be strong for people who no longer existed? Whose only evidence was their blood that stained the ground and bones left to turn into dust or be feasted upon by the wilderness?

“Why?” Leawyn whispered to herself, her question caught in the wind, floating soundlessly before it was carried off and drowned out by the symphony of the ocean.

“Leawyn?”

Leawyn swiped her fingers across her cheeks quickly to rid the evidence of the few tears that managed to escape before she looked over at Asten behind her.

He was frowning down at her, concern in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

On instinct, Leawyn started to nod, but then she really thought about the question, and the image of her father’s head on a spike, surrounded by the decaying bodies of her village flashed before her eyes, and her eyes instantly flooded with tears again. She shook her head.

“No,” Leawyn answered softly, her voice clogged with emotion. “I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again, Asten.”

Asten’s face transformed with his compassion, and he instantly went to her, wrapping his strong arms around her shoulders and pulling her in close. His hand cupped Leawyn’s cheek as he held her against his chest as the sobs she tried so desperately to hold in broke free.

“They’re gone,” Leawyn gasped, her body shuddering with the force of her sorrow being released. “They’re all gone. Brees . . . my father . . . I’ll never see them again.”

Asten held Leawyn tighter at her words, but offered no words of comfort. Instead, he let her dispel her grief in the way she needed as she clutched his tunic in a tight fist and her tears soaked it through.

“How could anyone do this?
Why 
would anyone do this?” Leawyn pulled away slightly to look up at Asten.

His eyes darkened with an emotion she didn’t quite understand, but before Leawyn could comment on it, it disappeared. Leawyn thought maybe she imagined it.

The pad of Asten’s callused thumbs met Leawyn’s cheeks as they wiped away her tears. His thumbs went on to caress her cheekbone, before moving down her jaw and—Leawyn’s breath hitched—her lips.

Lust flared in Asten’s gaze as he watched his thumb swipe back and forth on the bottom of her lip. The top of his nail briefly dipped into her mouth as he pressed down, testing the plumpness there.

“Leawyn . . .” Asten inhaled through his nose sharply, his eyes never leaving her lips as he continued to play with them. “I want to kiss you.”

Leawyn sucked in a sharp breath, her mouth dropping open.

Asten’s eyes shot up to hers at the sound. His breathing was irregular as he said, “I know it’s wrong. You’re hurting, and you saw something you had no business seeing, but . . .”

Asten looked down to her lips again, and the heat Leawyn was still so unused to seeing in Asten’s eyes flared again.

“But even though what happened was horrible, I can’t help but think about how it brought you back to me.”

Asten brought his hand up to be buried in Leawyn’s hair. Holding her steady, he moved closer, and his eyes bored into hers. Leawyn could feel the heat of his breath with each word he spoke. “I’m going to taste those lips again. I have to.”

Then his lips crashed onto hers . . .