Second Stone (13 page)

“It could be. But what about the ‘darkest night’ bit at the end? ‘Blood and Stones as one brings darkest night.’”

Emariya sighed. “I don’t know.” She stifled a yawn.

“All right, enough for tonight. Sleep for you.”

She looked like she was about to protest, but thought better of it. “Would it be all right if I slept in here? I don’t want to sleep in my tent where…”

“Of course, but how about you sleep in my tent instead? I’ll be here in the command tent going over things with Garith for a while yet. He should be back from sending the messenger soon. You’ll have more privacy there, and it will be quieter.”

She bit her lip. “You need rest, too.” Her eyes locked with his. His breath caught.

“I’ll be along when I can. Sleep well.” He kissed her on the cheek.

After she left, he couldn’t get the soulful look in her eyes out of his head. She was so incredibly strong. Like Terin.

Thoughts of Terin cut him to the quick. For the most part, he’d managed to keep his worry for her pushed aside. She was so like Emariya. Strong. A wild spirit. Unbroken and untamed, The Three help any who dare to try and change that. But could she stay strong while facing Reeve Warren on her own? He prayed so.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Emariya left her escort outside and stepped into Torian’s tent. She paused just inside the entrance, looking around. Everything was in perfect order, untouched. Of course, she didn’t think he’d even been inside it since they’d returned to camp. Garith had naturally had it set up for him when they made camp, but it was nearly dawn, and neither of them had yet had a chance to sleep.

She contemplated going to check on Jessa, but hopefully by now the girl was getting some sleep. The servants tending to Jessa promised Emariya they’d fetch her if needed. They said a heavy dose of mead would do her wonders. Once Emariya slept herself, she would go check on her. Her own exhaustion became more evident by the moment. Avoiding it any longer wasn’t possible.

Emariya rubbed at her eyes, trying to push sleep away. It was sweet of Torian to offer her his tent. She loved that since they departed Castle Ahlen, among all the things she needed to worry about, propriety hadn’t been on the list. Her proper lady’s shoes had broken soles, had been beaten, battered, and tossed aside—at least until they got to Sheas Harbor. She promised herself she’d try proper first. If that didn’t work, well, then the gloves—or rather shoes—would come off. She’d do whatever she must.

She could only imagine what they would be saying around camp when word got out where she’d slept. And with two soldiers as her own personal guard, word
would
get out. It was only a matter of time.

Torian’s fresh bedroll was laid out and waiting, and it beckoned to her.
It will be all right
, she tried to tell herself. She had taken the mindroot in tea the previous morning; she’d take more again when she awoke. She sank down in a little heap of skirts onto the blanket. When she was just about to lie back, she heard the rustle of the tent flap peeling back.

For a moment her heart stilled, afraid it might be another intruder. Though she felt awful that Jessa had faced that horror in her place, Emariya was in no hurry to face it herself. Her fears were quickly proven unfounded when Torian crept in.

“Oh, you’re still awake. I was trying to be quiet just in case.”

She offered him a shaky smile. “I was just laying down, actually.”

“I’ll be quick, I just wanted to get a fresh shirt.”

Emariya bit her lip. “Torian,” she whispered tentatively.

He stopped and turned around extremely slowly and deliberately.

“Will you lay down with me? Just…just for a little while? I’m afraid.”

He was at her side almost before she could blink. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you, I swear it.”

Emariya nodded. He was right, of course. She needed to stop being so insecure and letting her fear get the best of her. She expected he would grab his shirt and go, but he surprised her.

Very slowly, he knelt beside her. Moving as carefully as possible, as if he didn’t want to let his fingers so much as brush her skin, he began to untie her cloak.

“You can’t sleep in your wet cloak,” he whispered.

In her exhaustion, she’d forgotten all about taking off the snow-dampened cloak. She held completely still while he pulled it from around her shoulders, dropping it off to the side. Once he’d finished, he reached up to untie his own.

Nervously, she reached out, gently nudging his fingers aside. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she slowly undid the knot, letting his cloak drop to the floor of the tent behind him.

She still wore her entire gown and undergarments, yet she had never felt quite so naked as she did under his gaze at that moment. Color flushed to her cheeks and she started to look away.

His palm came up, preventing her from turning her head, leaving her captivated by his gaze. Ever so slowly, his thumb stroked her cheek.

Her lips parted as his finger brushed against them. She waited breathlessly as he leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers, so lightly that she wasn’t sure she wasn’t imagining it. But then there could be no mistaking it. His kiss was filled with a needy hunger like Emariya had never imagined.

They fell back together, his arms gently cradling her as they tumbled the short distance to the blankets below. Giving herself over to the heat rising between them, Emariya reached up, curling her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, determined to never let him go.

And then it was over as quickly as it had started. Torian pushed himself away, his breathing ragged, his expression haunted. The absence of his arms around her was as tangible as a knife plunging between them, cutting the tie of passion that only moments before had threatened to send them both over the edge.

Feeling insanely vulnerable, Emariya sat there staring at him, waiting for him to speak. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her careening heart.

“Torian,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his face still guarded.

His words crushed her.

He must have seen the pain on her face. He cautiously returned to her side and brushed back her unruly hair, most of which had escaped during their brief tangle on the blankets.

“You misunderstand. I shouldn’t have done that, even though I very much wanted to.”

Relief flooded through her. He was only trying to protect his honor, or maybe hers. In her complete inexperience, Emariya had never suspected she could so unquenchably want to feel another’s skin against her own the way she did at that moment. She reached out and grabbed his hand in her own. “Don’t be sorry—please?”

“A promise, then. That now may not be right, but after you are mine…then…then…”

“Then,” she said with a smile.

Torian shuddered. “I swear to The Three, Emariya, you’ll be my undoing.”

Trying to break the tension, Emariya responded, “I’m agreeable to that.”

They both laughed. “I mean it. It’s only because we are not yet wed, and we don’t yet know enough about the binding of the Stones.”

Emariya’s heart sank. In her heated state, she’d forgotten all about the Stones. Torian was right that it was best that they wait until they were wed before losing themselves like that again. But even then, what about the Stones? She’d thought the mindroot Neela had given her was to keep her from becoming with child. Now that she knew its true purpose was not that at all, she realized that when the time came, she’d be defenseless. If the prophecies were true, giving into their love could be the end of them all.

Emariya sighed and closed her eyes, leaning against Torian’s shoulder.

“I was thinking about Terin earlier.” Torian’s emotion-heavy words filtered through the darkness.

“I hate my brother for doing this,” Emariya admitted. “Hopefully Terin knows we will come for her.”

“She probably does. Of course, she’s probably not sitting around waiting for us to show up, either; she’ll be trying to find a way to free herself, too. Kind of like someone else I know.” He glanced down at her pointedly.

“I am sorry. For telling Reeve. I should have known better.” Torian’s shoulder was hard under her cheek, but soft in its own way. The exhaustion was creeping around her again, leaving her tempted to lay down in the bedroll, perhaps with her head resting in his lap.

“He’s your brother. You shouldn’t have to know better.” Torian leaned his head over, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to drink her in.

When Torian spoke again, his tone was tentative, hesitant. “Do you want to avoid the Separatist’s ambush? We could stay close to the mountains, avoid them altogether. It would put us at Sheas Harbor to get your father sooner.”

Emariya thought for a moment. “It’s tempting. But can we really give up this opportunity?”

“Maybe. They aren’t our main focus.”

“No, but perhaps they should be. Or one of them, anyway. They are ruthless. If we…if we ever want to feel that we are safe being together… That our children would be safe…” She broke off, unable to continue the thought.

“We’ll stop them.” Torian hugged her close.

“Who knows when we will have another chance like this? I’m sure we could manage to initiate a battle with them at a later point, but an almost guaranteed win is a gift I don’t want to turn away.”

“A win is never guaranteed, Emariya,” Torian cautioned. “But I see your point.”

“As soon as it’s over, we’ll hurry to Sheas Harbor. The sooner we get my father, the sooner we get Terin. And then we can go home.”

“Are you saying you can see Castle Ahlen being your home?” His voice was filled with such raw hope that it warmed her considerably.

“My home will be wherever we can be together.”

“Always,” he whispered, his lips pressed lightly against her forehead. His breath blew stray wisps of blonde curls away from her face.

“I want to go with you,” she said softly.

“Absolutely not.” His voice rose, sharp and piercing, a tone that said there would be no arguing.

“But why? I’ll be worried the entire time.” Emariya scrunched up her face, and she was glad he wouldn’t be able to see the full extent of her pouting in the dim tent.

“And that is exactly why.”

She didn’t understand. “Explain.”

He sighed, frowning down at her, a nearby lantern playing shadows across his face. “If you were there, I’d be worried about you, and not about watching out for myself and my soldiers. I can’t have my head full of worrying about you. Riya, please don’t push me on this.”

“All right,” she whispered. She still didn’t like it, but she could see his point. In good conscience, she couldn’t do something that would leave him distracted in battle.

“Come back to me,” she begged.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Snow swirled above the ice as they trudged across the river, washed in weak predawn light. They crept across to the opposite bank a few at a time, spreading their weight evenly, in waves of mounted men.

With her head held high, Emariya rode beside Torian, keeping her fear tucked firmly inside. As the meager warmth of the sun accosted the day, the snow became a misty rain, hanging in thick drops in front of their faces.

It took several hours to get their force across. According to their scout’s reports, the Separatist’s numbers had swelled significantly. Regardless, the Royal Forces would have the upper hand in both numbers and the element of surprise.

The empty battlefield lay pristine, covered in snow that would soon be a mix of blood, sweat, and mud. Far in the distance, a copse of trees was the subject of every man’s gaze. Through those trees, likely sometime this very day, the Separatists would appear, rushing out to set up their own ambush for Torian’s forces. Instead, each of them would be riding right onto the Royal Force’s waiting blades.

A few of their men were already set up, their muskets ready to be loaded at the first sound of the enemy approaching. They’d only have time to load one shot, but hopefully they would be able to pick off a few of their opponents as they rode within range.

Torian’s men looked eager, almost antsy with anticipation. Yet their faces were each devoid of excitement. No honorable soldier looked forward to being the end of another. They were there; they were ready. This was why they served; this was what they’d trained for. It wasn’t what they relished—only what they’d resigned themselves to.

Each checked his blade, checked his mount, and then sat stoically, waiting in silence.

As she waited upon her white filly, looking every bit the Angel of War, ready to send her disciples forward, Emariya’s mist-soaked hair clung to her face. She turned at the sound of hoof beats to see Garith ride up.

“I’ve found the spot,” he told Torian, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t have to ask how she felt about being relegated to the sidelines, just as she didn’t have to ask to know that in this, he’d agree emphatically with Torian.

“Good. Take her, Jessa, and Rink. Give the boy a musket. Tell him to keep it loaded and shoot anyone that approaches.”

For a long moment, Torian’s eyes met hers. Swallowing back her goodbye, she kicked her horse’s side and rode off, following closely behind Garith’s mount.

Just off the riverbank, a hill had stood watch for untold years. During its haughty reign, unrelenting wind coming up the barren, windswept land between the two rivers had worn one side into a sheer bluff. It was here that Emariya was expected to wait.

“Won’t you stay with us?” she begged Garith. The thought of both Torian and Garith in danger on the battlefield below left her chilled far beyond what any cloak could ward away.

Garith cocked a grin beneath his shaggy blond hair. “Now, who would have Torian’s back if I were to twiddle my thumbs here with you?” He tossed a musket to Rink. “I’m counting on you to guard the girls.” With a flash of hooves, he was gone.

“Don’t fret, Milady,” Jessa tried to comfort her friend. “They’ll be fine. Just fine.”

Absentmindedly stroking her horse’s mane, Emariya looked at Jessa. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Their relationship had been strained since the night of Emariya’s return, but slowly, Jessa was warming back up. Emariya knew she had spoken harshly. At the same time, Emariya was pretty sure Jessa knew she’d needed to hear it. “Are we all right?” Emariya asked, keeping her tone low.

Jessa’s eyes were darker and a bit older as she answered, “Yes, Riya. We are.”

“If you want to talk about it—”

“I don’t,” Jessa interrupted, turning her attention back to the scene below them.

––––––––

Waiting spanned much of the day. Emariya was just starting to worry that their plan might have failed—perhaps the Separatists had realized the force crossing the river was from the outpost instead of the prince himself—when the clouds split and the perpetual sound of the rain ceased, giving way to an eerie silence.

The silence didn’t linger long enough to become too uncomfortable. Just as they had planned, in a move as expected as it was terrifying, a cloud of brown, black, and gray horses swarmed out of the trees, spreading across the open battlefield to be fallen upon by the waiting wall of soldiers.

Emariya never knew if the Separatists had seen the trap and decided to continue on regardless, or if they were truly caught unaware. What she did know was they had done exactly as predicted, rushing headlong into a brutal, close-quarters battle.

Black and silver clashed with a medley of leather and cloth interspersed with bits of rusty mail as the elite Royal Forces met the riff-raff of the wilderness.

Random, inconsequential musket fire rang out as the forces began their initial drive toward each other. After that, the only sounds were muffled screams, fierce grunts, and the furious, shrill cry of frightened horses as their riders were pulled from their backs.

Both Emariya and Jessa had dismounted while Rink kept careful watch. From their faraway perch, Emariya couldn’t make out any real details of how the battle was unfolding. The girls gripped each other’s hands, clinging to their hopes and prayers to keep their soldiers safe.

Rink’s yelp jerked Emariya out of her preoccupation with the battle below. Whirling, Emariya yanked Jessa behind her back. Emariya kept her eyes locked on the Separatist charging toward them.

Her heart pounded, letting her feel each individual beat as it shuddered in her chest.

Several more Separatists raced onto the bluff, and one of them shoved Rink just as the boy’s musket boomed
.
The man didn’t pause. “Missed.” The man cracked a toothy grin, gesturing toward his companions. “Get that musket from him before he hurts himself with it.”

Rink’s ears burned the color of Jessa’s hair and he whipped the musket around, swinging the solid handle toward a Separatist’s head.

Emariya shrieked as the first man grabbed her, snatching her away from Jessa.

“If you don’t want that child injured, order him to stand down,” he growled in her ear.

Six Separatists now stood on the bluff. Emariya’s eyes flicked to the edge, contemplating the likelihood of her being able to push a few of them off.

The man showed his toothy grin again. “If I go over, you’re coming with me, sweetheart. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“If you hurt them, I will see to it that you pay for it.”

“As long as they come without a fuss, they won’t be harmed. This was only ever about you. You and the prince.”

Having done the best she could to secure her friends’ safety, Emariya let a second Separatist take her other arm. “Rink, enough.” She kept her voice brave.

“No, I won’t let them take you again! I won’t. I won’t!”

Despite Rink’s protests, he was quickly subdued, and he, a trembling Jessa, and a furious Emariya were led off the bluff.