Lyrical Press, Incorporated
Life’s Breath Copyright © 2009 Nancy Wald Edited by Pamela Tyner Book design by Emma Wayne Porter and Renee Rocco Cover Art by Renee Rocco Lyrical Press, Incorporated 17 Ludlow Street Staten Island, New York 10312 http://www.lyricalpress.com eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or thirdparty Web sites or their content. Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: February, 2009
LIFE’S BREATH by Nancy Wald
DEDICATION PROLOGUE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 EPILOGUE ABOUT NANCY WALD ALSO AVAILABLE FROM LYRICAL PRESS
DEDICATION Dedicated to my husband, Mike, for his patience and belief in me, to my sisters and mom for their encouragement and help, and to my children who asked dad so mom could write.
Prologue Apprehension vibrated along Sir Baldwin’s spine as blasts of light streaked the night sky high above him. He cautiously directed his mount along the steep, tree-lined path. The resonant thunder shook the ground beneath his horse’s hooves. His faithful steed sidestepped and whinnied fretfully as the storm grew more violent. “Easy, Artemis.” Baldwin stroked his mount’s neck. The soothing texture of the animal’s coat calmed his nerves. Baldwin ran his hand through his own thick, brown hair only to realize it was matted with the sweat and dirt he’d accumulated during his long journey across the sea from England to the mainland “I shall need a bath when we reach our destination,” he told the aged horse. Another flash brought the gloomy forest to life before Baldwin’s eyes. The dark underbrush writhed in the odd light and shifting fog. The sharp smell of ozone from the lightning mixed with that of decaying plants. It hung in the low, gray mist, tickling Baldwin’s nose. “Ah-choo!” Baldwin’s sneeze came on the wake of another rumble from the sky. The storm above him developed like nothing he had known. During his long travels he’d heard of strange weather phenomena—great floods, monstrous waves, twirling winds—but never had he heard of lightning emanating from the earth, reaching to the heavens. Even the color of the sky was out of place. It rolled with indigo and scarlet clouds, yet no wind or rain touched the ground. “An interesting night, my friend,” Baldwin told his horse. “The villagers will be full of
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tales of omens tomorrow, I am sure.” Baldwin shuddered as the next flash cut the sky. He searched his mind for an explanation. His years of study and travel through many foreign lands had taught him astrology and mysticism, as well as physics, anatomy and chemistry. Baldwin preferred to look to science to find enlightenment. “Ah, my friend, I fear no answer will come.” Though Sir Baldwin believed in science and logic, he also acknowledged that some things defied explanation, like magic. Omen or not, the crashing lights made him uneasy. “There is a cave nearby. We will wait out the storm there.” As his only companion for the last few weeks, Artemis had proven a good listener but a poor conversationalist. Undeterred by the lack of response, Baldwin continued. “Ah, I remember a time.” Baldwin sighed as the memory flowed back to him. “Prince Malcolm and I stole away from the castle to play in the cave.” They had played ‘Cave Bear’, crawling around in the dirt and grass. “I rolled into a bramble bush and was scratched from head to toe, and Malcolm tore his royal tunic on a rock. Oh, how his father scolded us.” Baldwin chuckled out loud and found relief in the sound. “Now he is King Malcolm, and Prince Garrett is the one who is trying his father’s patience.” Guided only by the flashes of light and childhood memories, Baldwin veered from the mountain path. He dismounted and led his steed over the uneven forest floor, slick with moss and tangled with undergrowth and rocks. “We will be at the cave soon.” Lightning blasted above the trees, hastening their pace. When the familiar clearing came into view, Baldwin sighed and relaxed his tense shoulders. A curious silhouette just inside the mouth of the cave had Baldwin tensing again. He saw only shadows of whatever blocked the entrance. A bush? An animal perhaps? The bright light flashed again, illuminating the figure. A small girl. Baldwin tethered his horse at a distance so as not to frighten the child. “Good evening, miss,” he greeted softly as he approached.
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He guessed her age at about four. She knelt just inside the cave opening. Her curly, auburn tresses hung in front of her downturned face. She held a sturdy willow stick with both hands, scratching at the packed dirt floor of the cave. Though the rock walls muted the sound of the thunder, the ground shivered with each rumble. Fine dirt rained down from the roof. Baldwin watched the girl draw in the smooth dirt. She had sketched two large, perfect circles, one with a star inside, the other with a swirling line resembling a coiled snake. Baldwin recognized the symbols. The six-pointed Star of Astoroth represented the magic of Merlin. He’d learned much of the mythical sorcerer during his stay in England. Many had believed Merlin was real, though he disappeared seven hundred years earlier from the same soil Baldwin himself had walked upon. The snake, he knew, symbolized black magic at its darkest. Though Baldwin deferred judgment on the existence of either form of magic, it was the symbol of the snake that had called him home. Baldwin fingered the letter he carried in his cloak pocket. The royal crest felt rough against his thumb. Malcolm’s words came to him as clearly as if he were reading them again. Much death and suffering has befallen the kingdoms of our great island. Lord Cadmar, the bastard cousin of King Ralph of Crestwood, continues his conquest on us. He invokes the power of the black serpent, dispensing torture and cruelties beyond imagine. His black mark of the serpent incites riots and hatred even within our own borders. There is dark magic afoot here. I fear we are at the brink of war with our once allied neighbors. Baldwin wondered what connection this small child could have to the evil that invaded his homeland. The drawings appeared neat for such a young child. She continued to retrace the lines, making them deeper to counter the falling dust. Who was she? Her embroidered, silk gown indicated she came from noble blood. He thought it peculiar to find a child of means alone in the woods on such a night. Baldwin tried to gain her attention. “You have much talent for drawing.” The child didn’t respond. In fact, she hadn’t acknowledged his presence at all. She knelt,
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transfixed by her task. Her quick hands embellished the lines she had already drawn. Her movements reflected the storm; its intensity, the rhythm of the thunder, the motion of the clouds. She seemed oblivious to the shaking ground, to the fear such a storm instilled even in a learned man of thirty and five years. Baldwin studied the child in silence as the sky above grew more violent. In the circle with the star, she drew the outline of a woman with angel’s wings. The lass began to cry and chant. Though he could hear her tearful voice, the words sounded strange, as if her language originated in a different world. She abruptly stopped her refrain. Baldwin noticed her hands shook as she raised the stick over her head. She screamed, stabbing the stick into the circle with the serpent like it was a dagger to the heart. The child then slumped forward onto her drawings and lay very still. For a moment Baldwin feared she had perished. He examined her and found her heart still beating. The moment the child had fainted, the storm ended. The lightning died. The thunder quieted. The rolling clouds receded. The sky twinkled with a million lights against the midnight background. Surely, this child was tied to the Omen Storm. **** High in the mountains, between adjoining peaks, two figures fell to the cold, rock floor of a dead sea. The sorceress, Lady Elsinore, lay motionless as her spirit rose to heaven on the wings of an angel. The wizard, Lord Cadmar, spoke with his final breath the words that would bind him to the earth. From the place where the evil wizard had fallen, a grizzled, gray shadow rose and was swallowed by the darkness of night. **** The child of the Omen Storm slept, shrouded in Sir Baldwin’s cloak. At age four-and-ahalf, the girl had neither the knowledge nor the power to save her mother or to completely destroy her mother’s enemy. But she had tried.
Chapter 1 The dying fire suddenly popped and crackled back to life. The stagnant air began to stir, lifting the scents of herbs and oils. Sunlight shifted and danced upon the many colored bottles that lined the bookshelves. Lady Arlana of Leighton sat cross-legged on the wood floor in the center of it all. Accustomed to the physical effects of her power, Arlana only smiled at the warmth of the renewed fire. Her circular room, at the top of the abandoned tower in a neglected corner of the bailey, hummed with energy. She felt it breathe over her, into her. Her mind relaxed as the power of the incantation pulsed through her limbs. She held her hands to either side of a hollow crystal orb resting on a wooden pedestal in front of her. Sparks jumped from her fingertips into the void enclosed by glass. Outside, cheers rose from the crowd gathered near the front gate of the inner bailey. The voices drifted through the open window in a merry refrain. The people rejoiced. Today they welcomed home the soldiers of Leighton from an ally’s war. Arlana felt their joy. Their positive energy poured into her, giving her strength and clarity. For the first time in months, she saw the future without distortion. While the apparitions of soldiers performed within the sphere, Arlana’s hope for peace collapsed. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened in silent dread. She watched a new war, a more personal war, begin. Clashing swords and flowing blood filled her glass orb. The grim image of a dead soldier lying in a red-stained summer’s meadow drew her attention. A strange spiral was burned into the flesh on his back. Arlana clutched her breast, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “What does this mean?” she asked herself. The spiraled symbol meant nothing to her, yet
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she feared it. The image had stolen her breath and pierced her heart. “I must tell my father and King Malcolm,” Arlana said, but she remained sitting in the center of the room. Soon, she decided. Now there should be rejoicing. Later they could plan for more war. Outside, the citizens of Leighton continued to celebrate. The sound of music and laughter drifted up to the tower. An hour later, Arlana wandered to the southwest window. The yard glowed with the early green of the spring. The castle hid many of the celebrants from view. She saw only those on the fringe, a few couples walking hand-in-hand, small children getting to know fathers they didn’t remember. It pained her that soon the war in her vision would tear these people apart again. She made liniment, reorganized the bottles of the healing potions and balms, cleaned her worktable, and found numerous other useless tasks to while away the hours. By midday, her stomach no longer just growled, it groaned. She needed food. This procrastination must end. She was obliged to tell her father what she knew. Steeling herself, Arlana left her sanctuary. After pilfering some warm bread and cow’s milk from Cook, Arlana climbed the servants’ stairs in order to avoid any dignitaries as she found her way to her chambers. The third floor housed not only the sleeping rooms of the royal family, but also those of her and her father, Sir Baldwin the Wise. The back stairs allowed Arlana secrecy and freedom. In her youth, she’d enjoyed watching the prince come and go while remaining unseen herself. A cozy sitting room with two chairs and a settee joined her small bedroom with her father’s. Full bookshelves lined the whitewashed walls. Numerous fat candles supplemented the sunlight filtering through the lone, tall window. These rooms in Castle Leighton had become her home fifteen years ago, when Baldwin had found her and he had become personal physician and advisor to the king. She relaxed her tight shoulders as she sat down in her favorite chair to enjoy her meal. “Arlana, where have you been hiding?” Baldwin asked when he joined her. Arlana swallowed a mouthful of bread and looked up at the man she called father. The silver streaks in his hair made him look distinguished as did the lines that accented his eyes. She liked how those eyes always lit up when he saw her, even when he was cross. “I had…um, chores,” she said in a sheepish voice as she rose to kiss his cheek.
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Baldwin frowned and grasped her by the shoulders. “You’ve spent the whole morning in your tower, haven’t you?” Arlana bowed her head. She knew the rest of the conversation by heart. He worried about her being alone too much. He wished her to have friends like the other maidens. “Today is a day of rejoicing, for welcoming home our brave fighting men and our prince.” Baldwin paused until Arlana’s eyes met his. “It would please me to have you join me in the great hall.” “Aye, Father.” Arlana managed a weak smile. She finished her bread and went to her bedroom to change into her formal gown. As she dressed, the knot between her shoulder blades grew tighter. Crowds of strangers and acquaintances awaited her in the great hall. Arlana closed her eyes and steeled herself against her growing nerves. “For Father,” she whispered before she came back to the sitting room. His choice, not blood, made him her father. When no one had claimed her, he’d taken her in, cared for her and loved her. “I’m ready.” She attempted a bright smile but feared it lacked sincerity. Baldwin turned and beamed at her. “You look lovely.” He took her hands and kissed her cheek. Arlana granted him a real smile. She had chosen the emerald green gown to please him. He said the color matched her eyes. She had even confined her wild curls in a ribbon because she knew he preferred a clear view of her face. “It has been too long since we’ve been to a ball,” Baldwin said. “Five years, before the knights left to defend our neighbors. I was fourteen, and I stepped on your toes when we danced.” They both laughed. “A sheer joy it was, too,” Baldwin said. “Shall we go?” Arlana felt her face fall. She hated that she had to tell him now. He deserved to relax and enjoy himself. “What is it child?” “I-I need to discuss something with you before we go.” “Of course.” Baldwin took her hand and pulled her to the settee. Arlana sat with her father. His proximity calmed her nerves. “I conjured a vision today.”
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“Like the others?” “In some ways.” Arlana continued to hold Baldwin’s hand. “The barbarians attacked, but they were joined by men wearing Leighton’s colors.” “Traitors?” “Yes. On our own soil, in the north hills.” She gestured in the direction of the expected trouble. “There was an odd symbol as well. I don’t understand what it meant, but I felt its evil.” “What symbol?” “A spiral.” She spun her finger in a diminishing circle to demonstrate. Baldwin rose to pace the small area in front of Arlana. He rubbed vigorously at the back of his neck. His voice grew quiet when he spoke. “Like a coiled snake?” Arlana thought for a moment. “Yes.” A hazy image of a coiled serpent drawn in the dirt passed through her mind. It lingered so briefly she couldn’t tell if it was memory or prophecy. Baldwin nodded and set his mouth in a grim line. He said nothing, but she suspected he knew what it meant. “And the shadow that blocked your past visions?” “It faded. Something still tries to stop me, but it weakens, and the joy in the men’s return lent me more clarity.” Arlana rose to face him. She needed him to believe, to understand. “I am sure of this vision.” “I know.” He squeezed her hand. Arlana noticed his smile did not reach his eyes. “We must forget our worries for a short time. We will celebrate and rejoice with the kingdom,” he told her. “Will you tell King Malcolm?” Not that the king intimidated her, she assured herself. Her father simply handled these matters better. Baldwin bowed his head in agreement and held his arm out to her. “So, how much liniment did you brew today?” he asked as he led her through the castle. “How did you know?” “You smell of lavender and peppermint. ‘Tis enchanting and will always remind me of you.” She sighed. “I only hope I made enough.” She had tended the wounded with her father as they had trickled back during the last five years. Those with less severe injuries stayed at the war
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to fight. Now she intended to see they all received proper care. “I hope the prince is well.” She tried to make her comment sound casual. The question had hovered at the back of her mind all morning. Baldwin grinned. The first real grin she’d seen since she’d mentioned her vision. Embarrassment crept warmly into her cheeks. “You can ask for yourself,” he said. She was surprised to look up and see they were already in the screens passage that opened into the great hall. She held back as he tried to lead her through the entrance. “Child, if you forever hide in the shadows, watching life through a window, you will miss the many lessons learned by simply living.” Arlana bowed her head and looked at her slipper-clad feet. “I stand out.” “Yes, you do, for your beauty, wit and charm.” She looked up and chuckled. “You are the charming one.” “Ah, welcome.” Sir Edward, the king’s personal attendant, greeted Baldwin at the archway to the great hall. After speaking to Baldwin, Edward turned his steady, disapproving gaze on Arlana. “Lady Arlana, so nice of you to grace the festivities. King Malcolm will be pleased you saw fit to join us.” Arlana’s shoulders stiffened. She felt the usual repulsion Edward caused, but tonight she felt something more. What, she couldn’t name. Edward oversaw all royal events in the kingdom. Protocol and etiquette ruled his life, and she rarely lived up to his exacting standards. He had even requested that her father send her away for deportment lessons. Tonight, she was sure, would be no different. Edward would find her lacking in every aspect. Arlana longed to escape his scrutiny, and only Baldwin’s warm hand at her elbow kept her from fleeing. Baldwin stepped forward. “It appears you have outdone yourself, Sir Edward. The hall looks magnificent. You must be very pleased.” Edward nodded, his stare diverted to an unfortunate serving maid who had nearly spilled wine on the Duke of Fitznel. Poor girl, Arlana thought as Edward swooped down on the maid like a hungry hawk after a little chick.
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Arlana cast a glance around the room. The great hall glowed with the light streaming through the stained glass windows and the fire of a thousand candles ensconced in grand chandeliers. Banners in the royal colors of purple and gold hung from the high wooden rafters. Guests dressed in their finest attire wandered the room, adding to the color and glitter of the festive tapestries hanging on the walls. Arlana wished for the security of a quiet corner of the gallery where she could see the splendor without feeling awkward. She recognized most of the faces in the crowd. Across the room, the king’s widowed sister, Princess Naomi, looked beautiful in her red gown. The woman’s delicate cheeks glowed pink as she spotted Baldwin, and she broke into a girlish smile. As Baldwin nodded to the princess, Arlana wondered if he appreciated Lady Naomi’s flirtations. For all his travels and learning, Baldwin had never married, nor had he acknowledged the interest women showed in him. Behind the princess, Captain Sir Kendrick Randolph leaned against the stone wall, his serious scowl firmly in place. Arlana watched the stern man who had taught her to ride as a child. At Sir Baldwin’s request, Sir Kendrick had led her beyond the view of the castle and taught her to ride astride, like a man. Although grateful for the skill now, at the time, Arlana had hated the exacting lessons. Kendrick scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes. His position as Captain of the Guard caused him to be suspicious of everyone, including her. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away. The room was filled with the elite of Leighton society, laughing and talking together. So many faces. A quick shudder ran down her spine as she peered around the room. A traitor was present here. She sensed the impatience, the greed and the well-masked cruelty. Baldwin pulled Arlana along beside him. She kept her eyes down as they moved through the mingling throng. Suddenly she found herself staring at the leather-clad feet of a knight. Looking up, she saw Prince Garrett and King Malcolm. “Your Majesties.” Baldwin bowed. “King Malcolm, may I have a word with you?” “Certainly.” Arlana watched as Baldwin nodded to the prince and walked away with Malcolm, abandoning her. She stood alone with Prince Garrett. Her heart galloped in her chest. Sweat formed on her palms. She stared into his eyes until she caught herself and made an awkward curtsy. Say
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something, she told herself. “Prince Garrett, welcome home,” she finally managed, grimacing inwardly at the highpitched squeak of her voice. Garrett looked the part of a prince in his royal purple mantle, though he wore no crown. He had bound his shoulder-length blond hair at the base of his neck with a leather thong. His face showed a shadow of a beard. When last she’d seen him, he’d known all of twenty years. Arlana saw, now, that his youthful features had hardened into the angles and planes of a man. Five years of war had aged him ten. She’d expected to see these changes, anticipated them even. But his eyes—his beautiful blue eyes—no longer sparkled with mischief. Instead they shone with the power of a man who had experienced much during his years away. She wished she could soften the cold edge war had left there. He smiled as he looked down at her. “Lady Arlana?” he asked after a few moments of intense scrutiny. “You remember me?” Five years had changed her as well. “How could I forget? You were always one step behind Logan and me, spying,” he replied with a chuckle. If only he knew how often she’d followed them just to catch a glimpse of the prince. It stung her pride to realize her childhood crush still endured. “As I recall, you stole our swords to keep us from leaving for war,” the prince continued. Arlana’s cheeks warmed. She remembered very clearly how the king had demanded she apologize publicly for her behavior. “Aye, but I returned the swords, and now you and Sir Logan have returned as well.” “I have to wonder what you thought you would accomplish. There are always more swords.” The visions from that morning replayed in her mind. Her heart ached. “Yes, there are always more swords.” Her somber tone matched her grave thoughts. Prince Garrett shifted his stance, folding his arms across his chest. Arlana thought even his shoulders stiffened. “I apologize. I forget how distasteful war is to those left at home.” His tone was harsh, reprimanding even.
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Arlana cringed at his bitter words. “I-I didn’t take them to stop you. I took them to…” She paused, searching for an honest but evasive term. “To bless them. I only wished to bring you home safely.” “And Logan.” “Yes, of course. He is your dearest friend.” Garrett’s brows drew together as he contemplated her. Arlana noticed a hint of his former mischievous self in his eyes. “You have an interesting view of things, Lady Arlana.” Before she could respond, Sir Logan approached. “Logan, you remember Lady Arlana, Sir Baldwin’s daughter?” The prince gestured toward her. Logan rubbed his unshaven chin and gave her a crooked smile. His dark eyes and dark hair suited his roguish reputation. “Ah, Arlana,” he said, winking at her. “I remember you well. You’ve grown quite lovely in my absence.” He bowed to kiss her hand. Arlana paid little heed to his compliment. Such silver-tongued words came too easily to Sir Logan of Leighton. The steel in his eyes, however, worried her. Logan turned to address the prince. “Your Highness, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we must speak.” Logan’s serious tone warned Arlana he must know of the new threat. Her report would soon ruin the celebration for both men. She glanced at Garrett to gauge his reaction. He looked composed and in control, as one would expect of the heir to the throne. She felt sad for the boy she remembered. He had laughed and lived without a care. “Arlana?” Garrett prodded. She shook herself. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I was just thinking.” “What sad thought could make you frown so?” Garrett asked as he brushed his finger over her bottom lip. Her pulse jumped, her head spun, her lip tingled. “I…um, I was thinking how I missed your laughter.” Aghast at her own words, Arlana drew a sharp breath. “Both of you, I mean,” she added quickly, nodding to Logan. “When you were boys…or rather, young men.” She willed herself to stop talking before she said anything else foolish. She wanted to
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disappear, to bury her face in her hands, anything to stop the humiliation. “I’ll give you your privacy.” She backed away a few steps, looking only at the floor, then turned and struggled not to run. Logan chuckled. “I believe young Arlana is smitten with you.” Garrett just grunted, yet he watched Arlana’s retreat with interest. She had grown these past five years. He remembered the annoying stick of a girl who’d always hidden when he looked her way. That, at least, hadn’t seemed to change. Though timid, little Arlana had certainly changed in many other ways. Ways he had no business noticing, he reminded himself. “You certainly flustered her,” Logan commented. “Unique woman,” the prince murmured to himself, annoyed that that fact intrigued him so. He turned to face Logan. “You needed to speak to me?” Logan leaned close to the prince’s ear. “The king has informed me of a compelling report that an army is gathering in the north. It appears their target is Leighton.” Logan paused to scan the crowd. “The mark of evil has returned,” he added in a hushed voice. They had seen the sign twice during the last five years. “The mark is a ploy used to scare those who would oppose a new ruler,” Garrett said. Indeed, during the campaign, he had seen grown men cower like dogs at the sight of the serpent sign. It symbolized evil and brutality to those old enough to remember. It symbolized Lord Cadmar, the dark wizard. Some said he’d died on the night of the Omen Storm, others believed he haunted the earth, waiting to return to power. Garrett believed the symbol’s return represented nothing more than a war tactic and an excuse for cruelty. “Perhaps,” Logan began. “Or perhaps there is more to the myth of the Omen Storm than we know.” Garrett fingered the medallion that hung from a leather thong around his neck. He believed in what he could see and feel, not in myths and legends. He had outgrown childish stories the day he’d killed his first enemy soldier. **** Two nights later, far from Castle Leighton, in a musty chamber lit only with six fat candles, Cadmar drank a thick, burgundy liquid from a golden goblet. Still warm. He smiled as he enjoyed the flavor. The liquid of life, he mused. Finally.
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The smell of rot permeated the stagnant air of the chamber. Rats gnawed on wood in the corner of the small, tomb-like room. Soon he would leave this filth. “Are you certain you will be strong enough to perform your spell?” a muted voice asked from the shadows of the doorway. “Do you question my power?” Cadmar answered in a raspy voice. “Have I not proven myself in raising yet another army for you? Had you not left to go back to the comfort of the palace, you would have your throne now, and I would have a powerful vessel in which to reside.” “It was you who failed to defeat the rebellion,” came the reproachful reply. Cadmar turned his red, glowing stare on the caped figure in the doorway. The fool pictures himself in charge. Well, I will show him the truth of my power as soon as I have a suitable human form. “You knew I needed the blood of Lord William’s son to keep my strength.” “You have it now, so drink his blood and we will toast your new life,” the hushed voice spat in contempt. “This body will never do. ‘Tis far too decayed to serve my purpose. I require another, one of great prominence. And this time I want his son as well.”
Chapter 2 Swords reflected the rising sun, sending quick flashes of light bouncing across the field. The ringing clang of metal hitting metal echoed in Garrett’s ears. Around him, men parried, dodged and swung. Grunts of exertion emanated from every direction. The sweat of men soured the sweet smell of spring grass. Garrett wandered among sparring duos, watching the experienced knights teach the younger men the art of war. War. Five years ago, the word had meant excitement and adventure. Now, home less than a week, it meant only despair. The soldiers knew nothing of the new threat. They only played tournament games today. He wanted them to taste peace before they had to face death again. Garrett scanned the jousting field. He finally located the face he sought. The idea that any man among these gathered could be a traitor made his blood boil. His father’s assertion that traitors resided in Leighton seemed unfathomable. It also reminded him of the value of a true and loyal friend. “Logan,” the prince called as he approached. Logan nodded and turned to the lad in front of him. “You may rest.” The lad dropped his heavy sword and sat with a plop on the grass as Logan walked up to the prince. “Your Highness. I trust you had a restful night,” Logan said as he stifled a yawn. “Restful enough,” Garrett answered with a smirk. He noted Logan’s fatigue. Nightmares disrupted Garrett’s sleep each night, but bad dreams were not Logan’s excuse. Last night, Garrett had seen Logan escorting a maid to his
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chambers. Logan had that freedom, even here in Leighton. Garrett did not. He was no longer just a knight fighting for a cause, but the prince and the heir to the throne. Garrett looked at the lad who rested nearby then returned his gaze to Logan. “Difficult day?” Logan rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “They are just boys, for God’s sake.” Garrett saw no point in arguing. He agreed, but they both knew it was necessary. “Have you learned anything new?” Garrett asked in a conspirator’s whisper. He hoped Logan had had more luck than he in ferreting out the traitors. “How can we even be sure there are traitors? I don’t trust this secret informant.” “We must err on the side of caution,” Garrett said, repeating his father’s words. The same questions plagued him. The prince looked around at the knights who had fought by his side. “I pray ‘tis not true.” At one corner of the field he saw a group of giggling maidens gathered to ogle the men. Separated from the rest, another maiden watched the sword play in front of her. She leaned against the white fence surrounding the jousting field, her eyes fixed on the action. Garrett pondered those pale green eyes. They had entered his thoughts often since his return. “Boy,” Garrett called to the youth resting on the grass. The lad scurried to the prince and bowed. “Sire?” “What can you tell me of that maiden at the fence?” Garrett indicated the lone woman. The boy and Logan looked where the prince pointed. The trio stared. “That is Arlana, Sir Baldwin’s daughter.” “I know as much. What more can you tell me?” “She is…odd.” Garrett pulled his eyes away from Arlana to look at the lad. “How so?” “She has no friends,” the boy began eagerly. “Well, none that I’ve seen. She is always alone or with Baldwin tending the sick. I heard Sir Baldwin wants to send her to a convent for deportment lessons.” The boy shrugged. “And she can disappear.” “Disappear?” Logan asked. “Yes. She goes into the gardens and, poof! She’s gone.” Garrett cleared his throat. He wasn’t interested in the boy’s tall tales. “Does she have enemies?”
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“No. Well, perhaps. Some say she is a witch, but I know she is a healer. She saved my brother,” the lad said. “How?” Garrett asked. “When Cameron came home, his leg was seriously wounded. Sir Baldwin and Arlana came. They put this smelly, gray mash on the wound. Ma was sure they would have to cut his leg off. Baldwin left, but Arlana stayed for three days. She changed the bandages and gave him some black tea. Ma said it was Arlana’s magic that saved Cameron’s leg and his life.” “Do you believe she’s a witch, Tor?” Logan asked the boy. “No. Those tales are for babies. Ma believes all the Omen Storm tales about ghosts and serpents. Cameron said he saw the serpent sign during the war, and Ma fainted.” Garrett left Logan to reassure young Tor. The prince strode over to Arlana. She continued to study the moves of the men sparring near her perch. She looked so intense. How could such a fair creature find brutal combat so fascinating? Her attentive eyes shone like the foam on a green sea. Her curly, mahogany hair tangled around her angelic face. But was she an angel? This woman was the daughter of the king’s most trusted friend. She could possess information the enemy would value. That fact and no other, he assured himself, drew him to her. He simply needed more details about her and her allegiances. “Lady Arlana.” She jumped back from the fence, stumbled and nearly fell. Garrett reached out to steady her. He grasped her thin wrist and pulled her back to the fence. She smelled of spice and lavender. Her wrist, which he still held, felt slender and strong. Her pulse beat against his fingers as rapid as a galloping steed. Her face reddened. When he released her, she grasped the top rail with both hands. “Forgive my intrusion, My Lady. I only hoped to have a word.” “Of course, Your Highness.” Arlana curtsied to him but kept one fist tight on the fence. “Why do you stand alone? You could join the others to watch.” Garrett gestured to the flock of maidens further down the line. She looked over at the maidens then turned her gaze to the ground. Garrett wished he could see her eyes. “I prefer this spot.”
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“You seem very interested.” “I’m trying to understand.” She looked up at the fighting men. “For instance, why does Sir Kendrick do that?” She motioned to the older knight a few yards away. He strutted around his student in a deliberate pattern. “The swords are heavy. He tries to throw his opponent off balance.” “How heavy?” Arlana asked. Garrett blinked at her. He pulled his sword from its sheath at his side and laid it across his palms. He started to hand it to her over the fence, but pulled back. “You have held this very sword before.” She nodded. “Five years ago.” Garrett handed her the weapon. “Why are you so interested in battle strategy and weapons?” Arlana hefted the sword in her open hands. She lifted it up and down, testing its weight. She frowned and held it out to him. He sheathed the blade. “‘Tis heavy, but if the battle was short, perhaps it would not be so bad.” Garrett smiled at her naivety. “No battle is short.” “Mmm.” Arlana pursed her lips. “I must go. Good day, Your Highness.” She curtsied and left. Today, shy Arlana seemed very curious about things that shouldn’t concern her. She also seemed preoccupied and somewhat curt in her retreat. **** From the main parlor window, a man watched. Thin lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Yes, yes, go ahead, train your army,” he scoffed. “You train those loyal to me as well. My army will know your strengths and your weaknesses.” Small, black eyes glinted with excitement. “Soon Leighton will be mine, and you will all obey me.” The observer drew away from the window when footsteps echoed in the corridor. The cruel smile warmed, though the warmth didn’t reach the dark eyes as he watched King Malcolm come to the window. “‘Tis sad that we must train for war so soon after our knights have returned,” Malcolm commented. “Yes, Sire.” Pity you won’t be around to see how it ends, the man thought with a polite
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nod to the king. **** After supper, Garrett went for a stroll on the grounds. Arlana’s absence during the evening meal disturbed him. When he asked Sir Baldwin to explain, both Baldwin and his father dismissed it as a common occurrence. “She will find something to eat when she’s hungry,” Baldwin had said. Her behavior that morning still disturbed Garrett. So many things about Arlana didn’t make sense. She stood out from the other maidens, or perhaps she merely stood apart. Perhaps that explained why she crept into his thoughts so often. “Oomph.” Someone grunted from an alcove to his left. Garrett slid behind the trees in the cloistered area behind the castle so he could investigate. He guessed he would find some young squire and his mates playing. What he found shocked him. Sword in hand, Arlana swung awkwardly at a pile of hay that had been bound with twine. The hay continued to stand undisturbed, while Arlana landed with a thud on her backside. She rose and swiped at the dirt on her skirt. Garrett watched the action with interest. Arlana raised the sword again and spun around as they had seen Sir Kendrick do that morning. She nearly fell again. At this rate, she could get seriously injured before her enemy lost a single strand of hay. “What are you trying to do?” Arlana squeaked like a mouse and dropped her sword. Garrett stifled a laugh. “If you intend to fight, you mustn’t drop your weapon when a stranger comes upon you. It defeats the purpose.” He stepped closer. Her checks flushed. It only set off her eyes even more. The silver flecks made them seem pale, but in fact, they were deep emerald. She smelled more of mint than lavender now. Her hair tangled around her from the effort of the battle waged against the haystack. Why did he notice every little detail about her? Garrett bent to retrieve her blade. “It appears your opponent fared better than you,” he said, pointing with the sword at her intact adversary. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. Her face turned a darker shade of red, and her
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eyes dropped to the ground. “Where did you get this?” He held her sword up and studied it. A fine weapon, surely someone would soon miss it. “I-It’s my father’s.” “Does he know you have it?” he asked, though he knew the answer. No father would allow his delicate daughter to play with such a weapon. Her head jerked up. “Yes.” Her voice had suddenly taken on a biting tone. The flustered stammer disappeared. Anger flashed in her narrowed eyes. Anger at being accused of stealing—or at being caught? “Why do you wish to wield a sword?” Garrett asked swinging the weapon in a wide arc. The blade felt familiar to him, though lighter than his own. “I heard your father would prefer you took deportment lessons, not swordsmanship.” She opened her mouth for what he expected would be a sharp retort. She must have thought better of it as she stood with her hands on her hips, obviously seething. The shy, clumsy maiden had vanished. Garrett enjoyed her angry fire. Finally, she said, “What good are manners if there is to be war? Am I to curtsy to the enemy?” Her back was arrow straight. The top of her head barely reached to his chin as she glared up at him. Lust was like a hot fist in his belly. The fact her anger could arouse him was aggravating. He needed to focus on the scene he’d just witnessed and her challenging remark. How could she know of the war? Had Baldwin confided in her? He decided it best to make light of her comment. “You have spirit, sweet Arlana, but I fear you haven’t the strength for the broad sword.” She didn’t look particularly sweet right now though. Incensed might be a better term. She tried to take back the sword, but he caught her arm and pulled her to him. He refused to tolerate her impudence. He’d only intended to protect her from herself. She needed to learn a lesson. “A woman as beautiful as you must be careful in a man’s world,” he whispered. With a confident smile, he lowered his head and kissed her.
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He expected her to object, to fight. Instead, her lips parted. His tongue tangled with hers coaxing more from the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She ignited his soul. Garrett deepened the kiss, and she responded in kind. Blood rushed through his veins, echoing in his ears, effectively blocking out the sounds around him. His hands itched to discover the soft curves of the body pressed against him, to feel her silky skin, to show her the magic he could create with just a touch. Her sword fell from his hand. It landed with a clang against a stone. What am I doing? He released her and took two steps back, sucking in much needed air. The kiss had been meant as a lesson, but it was he who had learned. This timid, naive woman possessed the power to make him forget his position and the possibility of war. This was a woman who needed to be handled with caution. Arlana blinked at him, her swollen lips still parted, her breathing heavy. She stood as if frozen, her eyes glazed and startled, staring blindly at her assailant. It shamed him to realize he had the audacity to take what wasn’t offered freely. It was a relief to know he had the sense and strength to stop. Garrett swallowed hard. “I apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior.” She nodded. “Mmm.” He hoped that meant ‘Apology accepted, and I would rather not talk about it.’ Retreat seemed a good option now. She tempted him just standing there, looking dazed. Had it been her first kiss, he wondered. She tasted so sweet and fresh. The memory of her passionate response stirred his blood again. He turned and walked away before he repeated his mistake. **** The next evening, Arlana ate her supper across the room from Garrett. He caught her looking at him several times during the meal. Her perpetual blush amused him. What an intriguing combination of innocence and passion. She excused herself before dessert, curtsying to the king and queen and nodding to him. Garrett pushed away from the table as soon as she left the room. “Where are you going?” Logan asked. “I want to follow her. There are too many unanswered questions.”
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Garrett explained his encounter with Arlana to Logan, minus the kiss, as the two friends left together. They caught a glimpse of Arlana as she entered the east gardens. Moments later, they searched the garden. “Where is she?” Garrett asked, exasperated. They knew the castle and the grounds better than anyone, yet she was gone. “I’m beginning to think Tor was right. She disappeared. Poof!” Logan said, mimicking his young apprentice. The friends finally gave up their search of the darkening grounds. Arlana watched them from the dark tower window. She knew they searched for her, but she wasn’t yet ready to reveal her secrets. Nor was she ready to face Garrett. She touched her lips with her fingertips and remembered the fire of his kiss. Her nerves tingled. She had drifted through last night and most of the day in a haze of tangled emotions. Her imagination had never carried her beyond chaste kisses and subtle caresses, but now she hungered to know more, to feel more. The prince, her prince, had kissed her. Reality had proven much more powerful and frightening than fantasy. A lady would have resisted, she knew, but she hadn’t wanted to be a lady. The way his body had pressed against her had caused a yearning so intense she ached from it. She sighed and walked away from the window. “But he is a prince, and I am a sorceress.” Saying the words out loud, even to herself, made her nervous. Only Sir Baldwin and King Malcolm knew of her gift. Her father had made her promise to keep her more unique skills hidden. “People fear what they do not understand,” he had told her. Indeed, she had felt people’s trepidation when she tended the sick with her herbs. Arlana quickly grabbed the ingredients she needed to make a sleeping tonic and slipped out of the tower into the black veil of night.
Chapter 3 Two days later, Arlana walked through a low morning fog to the jousting field. She savored her last bite of fresh bread with honey and licked the sweet, sticky nectar from her fingers. When she looked up, Garrett stood only a few feet away, watching her unladylike behavior. She couldn’t help but notice the width of his chest and the muscles that strained against his tights. Lifting her gaze to his face, she noticed his amused smirk as well. It did little to relieve the knot in her stomach. “Lady Arlana, what an unexpected pleasure. I assumed you would be on your way to a convent for deportment lessons.” She felt the tingle of heat rising into her cheeks. Blushing like a child, she thought in disgust. He must think me an uncouth fool. Garrett grinned. “What is it that has brought you here today?” “I have come to watch.” She lifted her chin. “And learn.” She dared him to argue. He gaped at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Does Sir Baldwin know you’re here?” “He knows I am determined to learn this skill.” Shaking his head, Garrett paused. He appeared to be giving the matter a great deal of thought. Arlana wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. “Very well. Come with me.” He led her to a corner of the field where several broad swords and fencing irons rested against the fence. “Choose your weapon.” He bowed her forward.
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Now she stared in amazement. “You will teach me?” Garrett nodded, though he didn’t look pleased with the prospect. “If I do not, you are likely to cut off an ear.” Arlana stepped forward to choose the smallest broad sword. “That is a heavy weapon for such a small soldier.” “I have no desire to be a soldier.” Garrett looked at her for a long moment. “What is it you are afraid of, Arlana?” he asked with an uncharacteristic tenderness. She gazed deeply into his eyes. So much, I am afraid of so much. “Arlana?” She shook her head to clear her mind. “The future, or maybe the past. I’m not sure.” He smiled at that and led her to a secluded alcove beyond the jousting field. Grateful for the privacy, Arlana relaxed her shoulders. She preferred to keep her new training secret. She already received much teasing for her less than proper behavior. This would only add fuel to the fire and give Edward more ammunition to have her sent away. “Shall we?” Garrett asked as he bowed to her and raised his sword. She nodded, and he taught her what she wanted to learn. **** Arlana left the dining hall that evening and slipped into the night. Garrett would follow, of that she had no doubt. The previous two nights she’d seen him follow her from the supper table only to lose her in the garden. This morning she had discovered his unyielding tenacity on the jousting field. Her arms ached from it. While he showed great patience with her unending questions and her clumsy execution, he never tired, nor did he give up. She crept into the gardens and disappeared behind a statue to wait. The sun, nearly set, cast long shadows over the garden path. Fragrant roses and abundant lilies made silhouettes in the pale light. “Your Majesty,” Arlana said softly from behind a frolicking garden fairy. Garrett jumped and spun toward her voice. “Arlana. Why are you hiding among the fairies?” “I often walk here at sunset, but tonight, I wait for you.” “And what made you think I would be coming this way?”
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“You were following me, as you have done for the past two nights.” Garrett looked surprised. “You disappeared each night.” She laughed. “I have a secret place where I can watch the world and be alone.” “A spectator, not a participant?” Garrett observed. Arlana blushed and felt a flash of indignation. His words, so like her father’s, hit a little too close to the truth. She said nothing. “Where is this place?” he asked. She relaxed and smiled. “If I were to tell you, it would no longer be a secret.” “Do you like your solitude so much, you cannot share this place with a friend?” “I did.” She sighed and began to wander down a path where hedge roses grew tall on either side, occasionally reaching out to stroke a blossom. “And now?” Garrett asked as he trailed behind her. “I’m not sure,” she said over her shoulder. Unconsciously, she brushed her finger over her lips and remembered his kiss. Arlana turned to face him and stepped closer. She reached out to touch the medallion he’d been wearing since his return. She rubbed her thumb across the unfamiliar family crest embossed on the surface as she had seen him do so often. She looked into Garrett’s face. He must have guessed the questions in her heart. “A boy—well, not really a boy, he was about my age, he just seemed young… We came to his village while the barbarians were still pillaging. He pressed the metal into my palm. He said ‘Remember me’ and closed his eyes. There was nothing we could do for him. I learned later that he’d been the last of his line, a whole family snuffed out by war.” Garrett lifted the metal from Arlana’s hand and held it out so he could look at it. “Now when I need to remember why and for whom I fight, I remember him. I will tell my children, and they will tell theirs, and young Issac of Thalim will be remembered.” Arlana’s heart ached for the lost life, and for the man who now bore the burden of remembering a boy’s death. She turned to hide her emotional turmoil from Garrett. He caught her hand. Heat spread from his hand into hers. It amazed her, how just a casual touch from him could electrify her nerves. “What is it you run from, Arlana?” She shook her head. Her shoulders stiffened at his question. Fear walked with her
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always—in the past, the present and the future. “Tell me about the battles. Were they horrible?” she asked in an effort to avoid his question. He stared at her for a moment. She could see him deliberating over the wisdom of confiding in her. Finally he spoke. “At first it was exciting, the talk of war and battle, what we trained for. We longed to test our skills.” His voice was quiet, almost sleepy. “The first battle was so fast, we didn’t have time to feel or think. Then when it was done, there was so much death. Boys I had played with as a child were dead, men and boys on both sides. After a while, I quit looking at the faces of the dead.” “Why did you stay?” Arlana asked, tormented by the pain in his voice. She tried to send comfort through the hand she still held. “I considered abandoning the crusade. After all, it was not our war. Then we walked through a village the enemy had destroyed scarcely hours before.” He shuddered. Releasing her hand, he turned away. “They had left only a few women alive, and those begged for death.” Garrett’s voice had taken on a shrewd coldness. His posture became menacing. Arlana witnessed the transformation from man to warrior, and understood one more casualty of war. “We drove the bastards out, or at least what was left of them.” Garrett’s words were filled with threat. A chill crept up her spine. Arlana mourned the carefree, cheerful boy who had died in a village in a foreign land and prayed for the man who had returned. He abruptly turned toward her and grasped her upper arms. “Why, Arlana, do you prepare for war?” His grip dug into her sore arms, and she fought not to wince. She studied his face but didn’t recognize the fierce eyes that stared back. She felt afraid—of him or for him, she wasn’t sure. “Why?” he demanded again. “Cadmar comes.” Her voice quivered, barely above a whisper. Baldwin had confided in her the evil that the serpent represented and the legends surrounding its demise. She knew Garrett had seen the coiled snake during the crusades, just as she had seen it in her visions, but did he believe in ghosts? Did he believe in magic? She had no choice but to believe.
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The thought made her tremble. Garrett’s eyes softened but remained sad and remote. He relaxed his firm grip, pulled her into his arms and held her gently to his chest. “Hush, little one. All is well.” His words lacked conviction, but still, he held her wrapped in his warm embrace. Safe, invincible, loved. He made Arlana feel and want more than she ever dreamed. She clung to him, feeling the gentle wind, smelling the sweet roses, listening to the night sounds. Crickets chirped, trees rustled in the breeze and owls called into the darkness. Footsteps echoed. Garrett released Arlana and pushed her behind him as he turned to face the intruder. “Garrett, did you find…” Logan halted his question. Arlana moved to stand beside the prince. “Aye, he found me, Sir Logan.” She looked down, suddenly feeling very conspicuous. “I will leave you to your friend,” she told the prince with a quick curtsy, without glancing up. The men watched as Arlana dissolved into the darkness of the path. Garrett mourned her absence from his arms. “Should we follow her?” Logan asked. “No. She is no more a traitor than you or I.” Garrett knew it, though he couldn’t explain his conviction to Logan. No words could describe the connection he’d felt to the strange woman who knew too much. They walked back to the castle in silence. Garrett had learned more during the brief encounter than he’d wanted to. She knew things she shouldn’t, yet he believed he could trust her. Caution had saved his life numerous times over the past five years. Now, with Arlana, he found no need for it. He’d told her things he’d hoped to forget, or at least keep buried deep inside him. He frightened her. He frightened himself. Who was he now? He no longer recognized himself when he looked into his tainted heart. Maybe someday he could find peace. **** Garrett rode east at a slow, steady pace. His ears strained to hear beyond the chatter of squirrels and chirps of birds. His eyes scanned the roadside foliage and studied the marks in the hard packed dirt road. He sniffed the air, catching only the scent of earth and spring. Scouts had confirmed the reports that an army was amassing to the north. Sooner or later,
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the king expected the enemy to send their own scouts, and King Malcolm intended to capture them. Twice a day, since the return of the knights two weeks ago, four men had searched the area surrounding the castle keep. Today Garrett inspected the eastern routes. Logan went north, Sir Kendrick west and Sir Percy south. The morning sun shone bright upon the dewy trees and shrubs. The moisture reflected silver against the green leaves. Garrett remembered Arlana’s eyes. He recalled the ease with which he could make her blush, the way her slender body felt in his arms. She always smelled of some herb or oil, probably from her father’s cures. He’d seen little of her since their walk in the gardens a week ago. Where did she go? Where was her secret place? “Damn,” Garrett muttered under his breath. His mind had wandered, and he’d nearly missed the tracks. He dismounted to examine the hoof prints left in the softer roadside where the rider had left the road. They were clear and fresh. His sword drawn, Garrett entered the woods on foot. The mystery rider made no attempt to hide his trail. Then why leave the road? The hairs on the back of Garrett’s neck bristled. Was this an enemy scout, or perhaps one of the traitors his father had warned him about? Garrett had walked over a hundred yards into the woods when he heard a horse neigh. The prince edged forward, alert and ready. Something moved in his peripheral vision. The unknown rider had dismounted and now lurked behind the bushes to the left. Silently, Garrett crept around the bush and charged. Arlana screamed. The wild flowers she’d been gathering flew into the air as she landed with an ungainly thud on her posterior. Garrett froze, his blade poised over her heart, the tip touching the linen of her overdress. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His mind remained intense and savage. “Arlana…Arlana.” It took a moment for her identity to register. He’d expected to find the enemy or a traitor, not a woman lurking alone in the woods. He suddenly realized he still held his sword to her heart. In a stiff, awkward move, he sheathed his weapon.
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The magnitude of what had nearly happened terrified him. “What in God’s name are you doing out here?” he roared. “Only a week ago you claimed to be afraid of a ghost, but now you ride into a forest alone to pick flowers?” Arlana was shaking as she pulled herself up. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were huge. She said nothing, only stared at him blankly, as if consumed by fear. “Arlana.” Garrett strove to gentle his voice. He stepped forward to grasp her arm, and she flinched. Garrett’s heart ached as he realized she was terrified, terrified of him. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.” “Garrett.” She stroked his cheek with her soft fingertip. He pulled her close. It felt good to hold her in his arms, to smell the fresh herbal scent of her. Slowly, his heart began to calm. As she began to relax against his chest, the warrior in him faded, but that left only the man. He fisted his hand in her thick, mahogany hair. Its silky warmth pleased him. He could picture it fanned out over his white pillow, picture her, slender and pale, on his sheets. Desire slammed into him. He wanted her in his bed, or even here, on the forest floor. He needed to taste her again, to touch her smooth skin, to feel her surrender to his will. His mind filled with her, only her. She sighed and tightened her embrace as if she read his thoughts. Desire and honor waged war in Garrett’s head. Each pulling at him, tearing at his will with vicious claws. An innocent maiden clung to him as if he were her salvation. Only moments ago, he’d held a blade to her heart. Now the animal in him wanted to plunder. He felt the dampness of her tears on his neck where she nestled her head. Honor forced Garrett to pull away. He kept his hands on her shoulders to stop her from melting against him again. She captivated him, and he needed to keep his mind sharp. He couldn’t go where she lead. A quick thrill was all he had to offer, and she deserved much more. His heart was no longer free. He feared the savage that hid inside him now. “You tempt fate, little one.” Garrett’s voice was thick as he grappled with desire. “Why are you here?” “I…I came to gather herbs,” Arlana whispered, swiping at the last of her tears. Garrett stepped back from her. He needed distance to break her spell. “Are a few flowers
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worth your life?” he questioned. He hated that she always looked down, away from him. “I have a strong escort now. I’ll just gather these.” She gestured to the flowers strewn over the ground. “I would be glad of company on the journey home.” At least her voice sounded steadier now. Garrett frowned but bent to gather the flowers. There were too many dangers in these woods for her to travel alone—and now he had to count himself as one of those dangers. He needed her to remain secure within the castle grounds. He had witnessed her stubborn disregard for her own safety, and he was compelled to see her returned to Sir Baldwin. Perhaps he should have a word with Baldwin about Arlana’s peculiar hobbies. “What is this herb?” Garrett asked as he studied a flower. “I’m not familiar with it.” “Arnica. ‘Tis used as a liniment.” They talked of herbs and medicines as they gathered the remainder of the flowers and headed home. The depth of her knowledge of herbal remedies surprised Garrett. Beautiful, shy, passionate and intelligent—the many facets of Arlana intrigued him. The combination of these attributes, he considered nothing less than dangerous. He must guard against her charms. But who would protect her from him and from her own reckless nature? **** Arlana studied an ancient roll of parchment. She curled her legs up on the settee in her sitting room. Her eyes were tired. The words on the scroll blurred as the candlelight flickered over the yellowed page. The smell of melting wax and dried flowers lulled her into a daze. She yawned, large and long, and looked toward the doorway. She had sensed Baldwin’s presence before she saw him. “You should retire, my child.” “I will soon.” “What do you have there?” Arlana cringed. “Um, ‘tis just some reading I wanted to finish.” Baldwin’s eyebrows lifted in a familiar questioning frown. He held out his hand, and she placed the scroll on his palm. Arlana sat straighter in her seat. He would be cross. She was not to bring papers from her tower, lest they fall into the wrong hands.
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“This is for Prince Garrett, I presume.” Baldwin spoke in a soothing tone. It surprised her. She had expected to hear anger. “Yes. He has trouble sleeping.” Baldwin sighed and sat beside Arlana, returning the parchment. “You know why ‘tis important that your magic remains secret. This is especially true now. There are traitors among us. Our enemies might try to use your skills, and our own people might condemn you. Fear of the magical arts is very strong.” Arlana nodded. “I trust you will take more care in the future?” “I will, Father. I’m sorry.” Baldwin patted her hand. He sat silent for several minutes, just holding her hand. The gesture reassured her, but at the same time it unnerved her. Finally, Baldwin spoke. “There are some things a man must work out for himself, Arlana. Magic will not heal Prince Garrett’s wounded spirit.” Her father’s awareness of Garrett’s affliction surprised her. She only knew because she and Garrett had spent so much time together. Since the week before, when he’d found her in the woods, he’d escorted her whenever she left the keep. He often walked with her in the gardens, claiming he wanted to discover her secret place. And he was teaching her swordsmanship. “‘Tis only a draft to give him dreamless sleep.” “Very well. Do what you can to heal his body, but be very careful, Arlana. You have a tender heart. I don’t want to see it broken.” Arlana felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. Her emotions bubbled over like an unwatched pot set to boil. She could contain them no longer. “I love him.” “I am aware of it.” Baldwin sighed. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close while she cried for the man she loved and the futility of that love. The prince and the sorceress could never be. The prince must choose a maiden of noble birth to wed. Garrett needed to choose a wife with grace and dignity, while clumsy and odd described her better. Magic made her powerful, but no power on earth could make her noble. No, she would serve her king and love her prince in secret. Friendship would have to suffice.
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**** After several lessons with the broad sword, Arlana’s arms ached, but she was improving. “I believe I could best you, my prince,” she teased as she sparred with Garrett. He laughed. “I believe that is a challenge I will accept,” he answered with a deep bow. Arlana smiled, enjoying the playful, relaxed Prince Garrett. This Garrett appeared more frequently now. But she still sensed the warrior lurking below the surface, even when he laughed. It took several minutes, but Garrett disarmed her easily enough. “A pity we did not wager on your claim. I can think of a most enjoyable prize.” He laughed, but his eyes were dark and intense. An energy surged around him, around them. She would give her soul for one kiss, for one moment in his arms. Yet he would not kiss her again. She knew if she were to touch him, he would only turn away, both in body and in mind. He knew his duty. Arlana admired that, even if it broke her heart. Garrett stepped back, sheathing his own blade and retrieving her sword from the grass where it had fallen. “I have taught you enough. There is no more need for lessons.” He bowed to her and left, taking the sword she’d been using with him. Arlana stood frozen in the little clearing. Having the blade pierce her heart would have hurt less. She had no idea how long she stood alone in the yard. But self-pity served no purpose, she told herself. It had been several days since she’d used the crystal ball to spy on Cadmar. The king had requested a report. Arlana stole into the shadows until she reached her tower door. Here was her past, her present and her future. She had only seen shadows for the past few weeks—nothing solid, just an overwhelming sense of dread. She expected today would be the same as she set her orb on its pedestal before the dead fire. A few words spoken, and the fire danced to life. Her tower room smelled of the lavender she’d gathered this morning. The breeze coming through the open windows stirred its fragrance. The sunlight was fading slowly, but there was no need for candles just yet. The fire in the grate gave light enough. Arlana settled into the task at hand. Her chant floated through the room and brought the darkened crystal ball to life. Sparks of energy flowed through her, shooting from her fingertips
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into the glass orb. Only fog, just as I suspected. She studied the mist to try to find anything that might be useful to the king. In an instant, the fog vanished and a war broke out, violent and deadly. Arlana watched, horrified. Leighton would be lost
Chapter 4 Shortly after midnight, Logan and Garrett crept across to the farthest east edge of the castle grounds. The half moon hid behind thick, heavy clouds, leaving the men to find their way in the dark. The damp air smelled of earth and the nearby pine trees. They stopped at the base of the ancient tower, the door of which had remained shut for nearly twenty years. As children, the mischievous boys had tried several times to gain entry, always to no avail. “Why would she want to meet here, I wonder?” Garrett asked. “I don’t know. I still say there’s something peculiar about that woman.” Logan scanned the darkness for her. Garrett frowned at Logan’s description of Arlana. She had earned his trust and admiration, though his thoughts of her were often less than admirable. Logan apparently felt differently. Knowing it would do no good the prince made a halfhearted attempt to open the door. It swung inward on silent, ancient hinges. He and Logan exchanged a look of amazement and peered inside the aged tower. “I always wondered about this place,” Garrett said as he looked around the dim, circular room. The floor was packed dirt. Moss grew on the damp darkness of the walls. A spiral, stone staircase twisted along the curved walls, and a trail of glowing torches led upward. “After you.” Logan’s voice echoed into the emptiness. He bowed the prince ahead and closed the door behind them. Garrett, drawn by curiosity and anticipation, hurried up the narrow steps. Somehow he
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knew the staircase would lead to Arlana. At the top they found a sturdy, wooden door. Arlana opened it before they could reach for the handle. “Come in.” She gestured them forward. The room was warm and clean. The walls were filled with shelves of books and bottles of every shape and size. Flames danced in a large fireplace, illuminating the room and making the colored bottles sparkle like painted stars. The men moved slowly, each absorbed by his thoughts. While Logan studied the room, Garrett watched the woman who had brought them there. “What is this place?” Logan asked turning in a clockwise circle as he took in his surroundings. “‘Tis a sorcerer’s workroom,” Arlana answered. “I discovered it about eight years ago.” “How did you get in?” Garrett asked. He remembered the solid, unmovable door. The last time they had tried to open the unyielding barrier had been less than six years ago. Arlana smiled. “I opened the door.” Garrett and Logan exchanged a guarded look. “Why would Castle Leighton need a sorcerer’s workroom?” Logan asked. Arlana shrugged. “My father told me that Lady Elsinore often visited this castle when we were very young. Perhaps she really was a sorceress,” Garrett said. Stories of dragons and knights, wizards and sorceresses had enchanted him in his youth. Tales of Lady Elsinore and her magic still lulled young children to sleep. Magic was spoken of as if it were real but always very far away, like something that lay beyond the edge of the sea. “It matters not,” Arlana said abruptly. “We’ve more important concerns to discuss. Come.” She waved them over to a worktable. “I must show you something.” Garrett watched as Arlana sat gracefully upon a wobbly, wooden stool in front of a large crystal ball. Gray smoke swirled inside the translucent orb. Arlana was a sorceress. Garrett wondered why he hadn’t guessed before—perhaps because he hadn’t believed in magic until this moment. He knew Arlana helped her father cure the sick with her herbal remedies. He’d even helped her gather roots, flowers and mushrooms from the woods during
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their rides. Her sleeping tea freed his nights from the haunting nightmares of the past. But magic…that seemed more daunting, more worrisome. Garrett studied her. She belonged here, he realized, in this strange, mystical room. It was as mysterious and enchanting as she. A sorceress. A witch. He turned his gaze onto the luminous ball as she chanted something in a long-forgotten language. He only saw the reflection of Logan’s scowl in the smooth glass, and could feel his friend’s impatience and doubt. Logan gasped as miniature bolts of lightning shot from Arlana’s fingertips into the orb. Before either man could voice his opinion, the smoke in the crystal ball cleared. As if the orb were a tiny stage, the action began. Garrett stared, stunned, as the magic vision filled his sight. Within the orb, a cloaked figure glided into the small meeting room King Malcolm used for private audiences. Numerous candles cast shifting light over the dark cloak, the face of the entity hid beneath a baggy hood. Malcolm sat in the throne chair, waiting. A look of sheer terror crossed the king’s face just before the figure blocked the king from view. As the cloak fell to the ground, a decayed, semi-transparent figure floated toward Malcolm, enveloped him and disappeared. The king’s eyes glowed red and the images faded. Garrett felt his blood turn cold as if all warmth had left his soul. Arlana sat frozen. She gaped at the magical sphere. “I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled. “That wasn’t what I expected. Before, I saw war, loyal knights against an army of barbarians and traitors.” “This is a trick. It must be some kind of trickery,” Garrett spat, but his heart knew differently. “How did you do that?” “It was no trick, I assure you,” Arlana asserted. “I…I am a sorceress. This tower became my sanctum when I entered and found my power. I’ve been aiding the king ever since.” Arlana’s chin jutted out, daring Garrett to doubt her, to call her a liar. He couldn’t. She was no liar. She was a sorceress. “Tell me what this means.” He pointed to the ball with a trembling finger. “It tells me what will be,” she replied quietly, “if we do nothing to change it.” “What can we do?” Logan’s voice shook. He paced the room. “We have to stop this. I know a demonic possession when I see one.”
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“It was Cadmar,” Garrett stated flatly from beside Arlana’s chair. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He knew. He had never seen the man when he was alive. The decayed shadow had shown no true features, and yet Garrett knew. “Let me look once more.” Arlana concentrated on the crystal ball and chanted. Mist swirled within the display. Garrett and Logan leaned in close to watch as their own images were pitted against each other by the lies of a false king. They watched a lifelong friendship being destroyed. They watched themselves draw their swords and fight for blood. The globe clouded as the images of Garrett and Logan fell to the ground, each with the other’s sword in his chest. “It can’t be real. We could never turn on each other,” Logan grunted. “If Cadmar uses the king’s body, he will have strength,” Arlana tried to explain. “Strength enough to alter what you see, to create a mirage of sorts.” “We must destroy him. We have to save my father,” Garret declared, “and each other.” “How? You saw him. He is not alive.” Logan began pacing again. “How can we kill what is already dead?” Logan paused. “We don’t even know when he will come.” “It will be soon, or the images would not have been so clear,” Arlana informed them. “Did you notice how you were dressed?” she asked, then answered her own question. “Formally, as if for a ceremony or banquet.” “We’ve no formal events planned,” Garrett thought out loud. “We’re to leave for Thalim in three days time to discuss an alliance.” “A send-off? It would be like the queen to plan a banquet before we leave,” Logan guessed. Garrett and Arlana nodded. It made sense. That left precious little time to find a way to stop the evil wizard. “How did he get into the castle? Surely someone would have noticed such a creature,” Logan said. “Unless he had help from within the castle.” Garrett turned to Arlana. “It was you who warned my father of traitors?” Arlana nodded. “Then you must know who they are.” Even as he said it, Garrett knew the answer. If she
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knew, she would have told the king. “No. I’ve only felt their evil.” She gestured to the now empty crystal ball. “I’ve seen them battle, wearing Leighton’s colors, against you, but I’ve never seen faces. I know one is close to the king. I felt it the night of your return.” Garrett pressed his fisted hands against the scarred worktable, leaning into it. What good was knowing the future if you were powerless to stop it? “You must know something?” Logan demanded. She shook her head. “The evil is strong. I feel it when I am in the castle, and sometimes on the grounds. ‘Tis motivated by greed and lust for power.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “And jealousy. I feel it pushing in on me, but Cadmar protects the source. I think he must realize I exist, but my identity is well protected.” At least she is safe, Garrett thought as he stepped away from the table. “Then we must deal with what we do know.” “How?” Logan asked. Garrett watched Arlana. “Magic must defeat magic.” “Yes,” Arlana acknowledged. Logan stopped pacing in front of Arlana. “If you can open locked doors and see the future, surely you can find some way to stop this?” He reached out to hold her by the shoulders. “I don’t know if it is possible. He is already dead.” Arlana’s eyes were large with despair. “What are we to do?” “If he were alive I would kill him!” Logan yelled in a show of temper. Arlana pulled away from Logan and scanned the books that covered most of the walls. “It may be possible,” she murmured. “If only I can find the right spell.” “What?” the men asked in unison. “I’ve heard of healers bringing the dead back to life just as death takes them. If I could find a spell that would give him life, you could take it back. He would have no time to stop it.” Garrett and Logan both bombarded her with “hows” and “ifs”, but Arlana made no attempt to answer. “Go now. Find out the exact time of the banquet and any details. I have much reading to do.” She turned her back to them and started pulling books from the shelves. Garrett considered her tone and sharp orders disrespectful of his position. Both he and
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Logan continued to hurl questions at her, but she ignored them. She seemed engrossed by her search. Garrett lingered, unaccustomed to such treatment and not pleased with her ability to ignore him. He wanted her to answer his questions, but Logan pulled him to the door. “Let her work,” Logan said. They stepped out of the tower into the cool night air. Garrett jumped when the door sealed itself behind them. He couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. He hoped he would wake and find it all a bad dream. It seemed unreal, like the childhood stories he no longer believed in—stories of magic, enchantments and demons. **** As the sun began to rise, slivers of pale light slanted into the tower room. Arlana opened yet another book. The dust hung thick in the air, making her sneeze three times in succession. She was tired and losing hope. All night she’d searched to no avail. She now knew how to make furniture dance and turn rude little boys into toads, but she could not save her friends or the kingdom she loved. Her eyes were half closed when a sunbeam reflected by a crimson bottle landed vividly on a page of the open book. “Life’s Breath, the transference of one’s own life forces to another.” She read through the process twice. This was it. She had found what she needed. Her relief in finding a way to save Garrett diminished her fear of the sacrifice she would have to make. She immersed herself in the study of the spell and what she would need to complete it. **** “Why won’t it open?” Garrett questioned as he again pushed on the thick, wooden door. It didn’t budge. It felt as solid as it had six years ago. “It might as well be made of stone.” They had taken care not to arouse suspicion this morning. Logan even made up a crazy tale about a rabid opossum to explain their early departure to a cook they met while leaving the castle. The sun rose quickly. It promised to be a bright day. Soon the castle would be bustling with activity and awareness. “We need to get out of the open. I don’t want Arlana’s tower room to be discovered,”
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Garrett urged. Logan frowned and pressed his shoulder hard against the barrier. His face reddened with the effort as he dug his feet into the grassy earth. Logan’s full weight was leveraged against the door when it suddenly released without resistance. He tumbled headfirst onto the hard packed earth of the tower floor, uttering a few expletives as he fell. Garrett gawked and then burst into laughter. Seeing the door open without any assistance didn’t shock him, as it would have only a day ago. However, seeing his best friend sprawled on the dusty floor, spitting and cursing, gave him a release from the tension that had throbbed at his temples since Arlana’s dire revelation. “It wasn’t that funny,” Logan said as he rose and dusted off his tunic and leggings. Garrett patted Logan’s back, and dust billowed in a cloud. “Sorry, my friend,” Garrett said, still smiling. Logan made a gesture of defeat and smiled back. He turned to the door and scowled. It was closed. The only light in the room came from the torches that lit the stairway. “Did you close the door?” Logan asked. Garrett shook his head. They stared at the heavy door for a moment. Garrett shrugged and led the way up the stairs in silence. As he had tossed and turned last night, Garrett had given up trying to understand anything about magic doors, ghosts or the lovely, mysterious Arlana. He didn’t know if she was a true sorceress, but she was the only hope they had. “I’ve found it,” Arlana declared when they entered her workroom. Several books still cluttered the floor in front of the hearth. The day promised to be warm, but a fire blazed in the grate. Morning light spilled in from the tall windows, illuminating the dust particles that hung in the air. “I have found a spell which will give Cadmar not only life, but also mortality,” Arlana told them in a rush. “He will not be able to escape your blades. There is much we must do. I’ll need a willow log, and we need to decide when to strike. I will need time to cast the spell and we have to—” “Hush, little one.” Garrett silenced her excited rambling by touching his finger to her lips.
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“Slow down.” Arlana blushed. Her head spun with the triumph of finding an answer. She needed to focus and think if they were to devise a plan. She took a calming breath and sneezed. “Bless you,” Garrett and Logan chorused. She explained what items she would need and how much time it would take to perform the complicated spell. Though Logan scowled at her request for charcoal from a willow log, neither man questioned what they couldn’t comprehend. Arlana knew she was asking them to take a leap of faith—to believe in the living dead, in resurrecting a ghost and in sorcery. Yet they believed, they trusted. “The banquet is to be held tomorrow night,” Garrett informed her. They hammered out the details. Logan paced the room. Garrett sat in a chair by the fire. Arlana sat cross-legged on the floor at Garrett’s side. They passed ideas back and forth until they had formed a plan. “It’s settled then,” Garret said as he rose. “We must each prepare for tomorrow. And Logan and I must be ready to leave for Thalim.” He looked down at Arlana. “Is there any more you will need from us today?” “No,” Arlana answered. “I must see to my part.” The men left the tower. Arlana heard the tower door seal. She felt their absence. Solitude allowed her to think, to fear. She had deliberately omitted the price to be paid to complete the spell. It was her sacrifice, after all, her choice to make. She would give her life’s breath to Cadmar so the men could take his life and save the king. A noble act perhaps, but her motives were self-serving. She would die for Garrett, for love of him. What a cruel game life played. Yet with magic, there were always possibilities. She rose and scanned the books remaining on the shelves. She searched for hope, a way she could reclaim life after Cadmar was destroyed. A thin, coverless book called to her. The yellowed linen pages were sewn together with a leather string. Its plainness and simplicity compelled her to pull the book down. Within the first few pages, she found her salvation.
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Upon death, the energy of life, or life’s breath, as it is sometimes called, mixes with the air, nourishing the universe. This energy can, however, pass to another, provided it is called by one who shares a blood connection to the deceased. Calling her life’s breath would be as easy as enchanting an inanimate object, but there was no one who shared her blood. Sir Baldwin had found her as a child and was not her natural father. She had no blood relatives. She read on, in search of a miracle. **** That night, as the castle slept, Arlana crept silently through the cold, stone hall to Garrett’s private chambers. Though the door was locked, she opened it with a touch. Moonlight drifted through a tall tapered window, giving the room a soft sheen. A few upholstered chairs sat in a cluster to the left in front of a hearth still shimmering with orange embers. A grand canopy bed filled the other half of the room. The bed curtains were pulled open and tied to the supports with golden cords. Garrett slept peacefully upon the large, soft bed. His flaxen hair was draped over the pillow, his lips were parted in his relaxed state. In sleep, he did not seem the innocent child she had expected. Instead, he looked every bit a man. So handsome, she thought. She shivered. Did she have a right to use him this way, to take from him because of need and desire? Indeed, it was desire that had been the deciding factor. It burned through her even as she stood quivering at the foot of his elaborate bed. It turned her blood to molten lava and made her aware of her own body—an awareness that both stunned and thrilled her. “What now?” she murmured softly. She cursed her inexperience with men. “How does one seduce a prince, or any man for that matter?” “What?” a sleepy voice asked. “My Lord.” Arlana stood rigid, nervously fingering the strings of her nightdress.
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He grumbled as he woke and turned to her. “Arlana?” He stared. “What brings you here at this hour?” She watched him come fully awake. He looked at her with dark eyes, his jaw set. He sat up on his bed. “You will need your rest if we are to succeed tomorrow.” The blanket fell to his waist revealing his well-defined, bare chest. Arlana felt the temperature of the room rise despite the chill that invaded the stone castle each night. “‘Tis of tomorrow that I wish to speak,” she managed to whisper weakly. He held out his hand to her, and she crossed to the side of his bed to take it. “Are you afraid?” he asked and tugged her hand until she sat on the edge of his bed. Fear lived inside her. It brought her here. It forced her to proceed, to boldly act on feelings she couldn’t understand. Tension radiated through her as she continued fumbling with the tie of her nightdress. “I… Yes, I suppose I am afraid.” She touched his cheek and leaned forward to steal a kiss. “Arlana.” He held her back. His eyes had focused on the tie of her gown. His voice was strained. She could see the lustful craving in his eyes and was undeterred by his attempts to hold her away. Standing, she let her nightgown fall. She trembled with nerves and anticipation, as she stood before him, naked and chilled. Garrett stared with wide-eyed admiration. He swallowed hard. The light coming from the hearth and the moon encircled Garrett in a golden halo. It danced across his bare skin. Lust warmed Arlana, giving her the courage to act. She sat beside him on his bed and leaned forward to kiss him, placing her hand upon his muscular chest. His heart thundered under her palm just as hers did in her chest. When Arlana sat back to gauge his reaction, she noticed his hands were fisted into the sheets, his brow furrowed with concentration. A slight smile curled her lips. He wanted her. She sensed his urges, yet he was trying so hard to be noble. She kissed him again, with more feeling. His mouth, under siege, succumbed to the temptation and actively drank from hers. Her trembling hands caressed the hard muscles of his chest and arms. His expertise in kissing sent her senses reeling, yet his hands still remained fisted
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in the sheets. “Honor be damned,” Garrett moaned as he reached for her, pulling her close, touching her, tasting her. He caressed the silky skin of her shoulders and back. His fingers slid through her thick hair. Arlana reveled in his touch. Sparks followed his fingers. Her nerves were replaced with needs and her fear with desire. Tomorrow was forgotten, only the here and now existed. He lifted the sheet to invite her to lie with him. No words were spoken. None were needed. She had never seen a naked man before. Garrett was strong and lean. His broad chest heaved with his labored breathing. As her eyes drifted to his narrow waist and lower, she gasped. The sight of his throbbing manhood standing thick between his legs sent dueling tremors of delight and panic through her limbs. Garrett pulled her to him. He coaxed away her panic with soft strokes and deep kisses. If death did come the next day, it would come with sweet memories of this night. Their bodies pressed eagerly together. His kisses grew urgent and demanding. She matched his strength and prowess with heart and fire. His mouth wandered down her throat, to her heart, to her breast. Her sharp intake of breath only encouraged more. His lips were the first to taste her here, and she was stunned by her unexpected reaction. The glory of the sensation sent her soaring. New, exciting, gratifying—the things he was doing to her were exquisite. While he was suckling her nipple, his hand roamed over her back, caressed her buttocks, slid down her outer thigh. She purred with anticipation as his fingers began their journey up her leg. He stroked her center, bringing forth a moan from the depth of her soul. Garrett gently parted her legs. He brought pleasure to her in ways she’d never dared imagine. She soared to new places and floated back to earth, only to have his clever hands and mouth take her back up again. Arlana touched every part of him, learning as she explored, discovering his secrets just as he exposed hers. Garrett watched as she writhed under his touch. He marveled at how responsive she was, how willing. The ecstasy he saw on her face was enough to unbearably excite him.
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So magical was this time he had to wonder if she had cast a spell upon him, not that it would matter. He would gladly succumb to any enchantment if he could have her now. Passion erupted like a volcano. They couldn’t get close enough. His need grew urgent, but he reminded himself that she was a maiden. He didn’t have to ask. He only had to know her. There would be pain, but he knew how to lessen the distress of penetration. He had to take care. He had to restrain himself. Never before had patience and control been such a challenge. Her moans grew urgent. She rose up to meet the thrust of his fingers, arching into him. When his name was on her lips, he slid his throbbing erection gently inside her. He had the sensation of being complete for the first time in his life. Arlana drew a sharp breath. Slowly, he moved, gently rocking inside her, taking her past the pain into the wonder. She arched up to him again, as if struggling to take more. “Please, Garrett, my love,” Arlana moaned. Her words washed over him, breaking his control. He thrust powerfully, quickening the pace. She matched him. She drove him. She loved him. He swallowed her cry as his seed flowed into her, and they came crashing together in an explosion of fulfillment. As Garrett lay over her, sated and weak, his mind began to clear, allowing the first pangs of guilt to creep into his conscious thought. Lost in his desires, he had taken her maidenhood, and then irresponsibly poured his seed into her. It was not his practice to be so reckless. Looking back, he doubted he would have had the power to withdraw before he exploded inside her. He shifted to lie on his side next to her. Her eyes were closed, but he saw the damp trail her tears had left on her cheek. “What a horrible brute I am,” he muttered to himself. She looked up at him. Regret filled him. Not just for her pain, but for taking advantage of her. He was aware of the affection she had for him. He knew she had come to him in fear, yet he had satisfied his lust with her innocence. “Arlana, dear sweet Arlana, I am sorry. Did I hurt you?”
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“No,” she answered vehemently. “I had no right.” She interrupted before he could say more. “‘Tis I who should apologize. I had no right to come to you like this. Now you feel guilt for sins that are mine. Know that I have no regrets. You have given me a gift I will treasure.” He studied her face. Indeed, there appeared to be no regret, only a giddy kind of triumph. Yet he still had doubts. “I meant to be gentle,” he told her. “And more responsible.” She touched his lips with her fingertip before he could say more. “There is no need to worry.” He assumed she meant she wasn’t ripe to conceive, which was a relief, but he knew there must have been pain for her. He had felt the barrier that protected her virginity tear when he’d pushed through it. “Are you all right?” “How could I be otherwise when I am flying?” she asked. “In my dreams, I never imagined anything so wonderful.” His worry and concern turned into a cocky grin. “Was it, um…satisfactory for you?” Arlana asked with lowered eyes. Garrett laughed aloud. “My Arlana, you humble me. You broke my control and wiped my mind clean.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip, looking very pleased with herself. The coy look nearly drove him mad. As he caressed her face and her neck and lower, her eyes darkened. “How does one go without such pleasures once they have been found?” she asked him. “There is no need to go without.” So saying, he showed her even more wonders of the flesh. Then together they slept, only to wake, love and sleep again. **** “Ah, so she finally wakes.” Garrett lay beside Arlana, watching the sleep clear from her eyes. She stretched like a contented cat and had him raising his eyebrows, wishing for a longer night. “Though you are lovely in sleep, you are enchanting with light in your eyes.” Garrett
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stroked her cheek gently. Still half asleep, she smiled up at him. “‘Tis love in my eyes, not light.” She had spoken words of love often through the night, but he wasn’t sure he could return the sentiment. His feelings were as yet unclear to him. He had no idea what it meant to be in love. He knew he had never felt so connected to any other woman. But love? He was no longer certain he was even capable of the emotion. He had lived through too much. The reasons why he should have sent her away came back to him with excruciating clarity—her innocence, his experience; her magic, his duty; her infatuation, his confusion. Arlana looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “Do not frown, sweet prince.” She touched his cheek. “I ask not for lies. ‘Tis enough that I have the memory of last night.” He kissed her tenderly. “My Lady, I am undeserving of your love. I had no right to take your innocence.” “I gave what I wished and took what I needed. I have no regrets, nor should you.” Guilt still ate at his spirit. “I am very fond of you, Arlana.” “We will speak of it no more,” she said hastily as she rose to dress. “I must go before the castle wakes.” He watched her sad eyes. She was hurt. He had been trying to reassure her, to tell her she was special, that what happened between them meant something. God, he didn’t understand women. “There is much to do,” she told him pointedly. “Give me your sword. I will return it when we meet later.” She took his sword, touched his confused face and left. Arlana had seen the discomfort her words of love had caused him. His thoughts had been so clearly reflected on his face. Though it broke her heart, it was a truth she’d known from the start. While she prepared for the day, she decided she was mostly angry with herself. She had known the rules when she went to him. Hadn’t she convinced herself it didn’t have to mean anything? But it had meant something to her. How could she have known what it would be like to be so physically and emotionally overwhelmed by a man? How could anyone’s heart remain unaffected by the magic she had experienced last night? Was there any magic more powerful?
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Indeed, it was that very magic that could save her life. **** Logan and Garrett slipped out of the castle after midday, careful not to be noticed as they crossed the shadowed courtyard in the direction of the far tower. The sky was gray and drizzly. The air held a chill that oozed into Garrett’s bones. He looked up at the ancient tower that housed Arlana. The tower was decrepit and foreboding. It spoke of darkness and neglect. Arlana was bright and vibrant. She reminded him of spring and sunshine. The contrast was striking. Logan reached the unwieldy door first. He tentatively pushed against it, eyeing it with distrust. The heavy barrier held fast. “Don’t look at me,” Logan said to Garrett. “I’m not going down again.” Garrett traced a finger over the marred surface. To his amazement, the door swung silently on its ancient hinges, inviting them inside. “She must be waiting for us,” the prince commented. They entered, and the door shut itself behind them. “I hate it when she does that,” Logan muttered. Garrett just chuckled, though the magic of it unnerved him as well. He didn’t have the energy to contemplate an enchanted door just now. His mind was a blur of passionate images of the woman they had come to see. The memories made him hard. The rush of his blood echoed in his ears. For the first time in his life, he kept his thoughts from Logan. Now that the moon had set on their night of passion, he questioned why. Why had she come to him? It was out of character for his sweet Arlana to be so brazen. Could her fear have been so great? He was concerned for her state of mind when they reached the landing atop the stairs. The men found Arlana kneeling in front of the hearth. Though the fire in the grate was dying, Arlana’s room glowed with an eerie orange light. The smell of unearthly smoke and fresh blood tainted the usually relaxing scent of herbs. Logan’s sword lay on a deep purple cloth spread over the cold, stone floor before her. Garrett’s rested across her lap. She appeared to be in some sort of trance. “Arlana?” Garrett said quietly, trying to stir her by gently resting his hand on her shoulder.
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Her mind drifted as the power of her spell drained the energy from her limbs. Her ears rang as though a great bell clanged inside her head. A warm pressure on her shoulder stirred her from her stupor. “Are you all right?” Logan asked, crouching beside her. He already wore his formal tunic, in preparation for the banquet. “Yes,” Arlana answered. Her voice sounded distant through the rumble in her head. She rose shakily, accepting the hand Logan offered. She wiped at the sweat that had gathered on her brow and teetered slightly before she attained her equilibrium. She was still lightheaded from casting her spells on the swords. The instruments would now protect their owners both in mind and in body. Garrett’s blade, however, would also serve as a conduit for her life’s breath. It was in casting this last enchantment that her strength had waned. She noted the worried glances Garrett and Logan exchanged. Logan grasped her upper arms firmly, giving her a light shake. “Are you sure you can do this, Arlana? We can try to find another way.” She gave him a faint, indulgent smile. She understood their worry. Their lives, indeed the fate of the entire kingdom, depended upon her skills as a sorceress. “Dear friend, I swear to you, I can and will give Cadmar mortality,” she reassured him in a weak voice. “Or die trying!” Garrett interrupted angrily. His jaw was tight as his muscles contracted his once tender mouth into a severe scowl. His hands were balled at his sides. Arlana turned to face Garrett’s forceful stare. It was not passion or kindness she saw on his face now. Guilt, fear and doubt clouded his pale blue eyes. Arlana straightened herself to the full extent of her height. “If I am to die, it will be in the doing.” She was pleased that her voice sounded steady and firm, as that wasn’t how she felt. She didn’t want to die. The list of things she wanted to do in this life was long, but she had found no alternative. There was hope and that made it easier. There was love for Garrett and that made it necessary. He looked at her with assessing eyes. “You are not strong enough to stand up to Cadmar,” Garrett observed flatly. “I will not allow it!” The vigorous statement surprised Arlana.
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She swallowed the lump of emotions that threatened to block her next breath and placed her hand on Prince Garrett’s sleeve. “Sire, your concern is misplaced. ‘Tis you who must stand up to Cadmar, not I. ‘Tis better that I am weak. I do not wish to give him too much strength.” Without pausing, she changed course. These words were serving no purpose but to undermine the control they would surely need. “There is still much to do.” She handed each of them their swords. “These will protect your minds as well as your lives.” The swords shimmered with power as each man held his weapon. Energy, confidence and strength flowed from the blade to the man. Arlana watched as Garrett and Logan accepted her power. “Garrett, I must ask more of you.” She put a hand over his on the hilt of his weapon. “Pierce Cadmar’s heart with your sword.” Her voice broke as she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Even if he has already fallen.” Her gaze held him. She saw none of the earlier doubt, only the worry. “Why?” Garrett whispered. He ran his fingers along the length of his sword, examining it. Dark blood stained the point. He turned her hand over to see the fresh cut on her palm. “What is it you will do today?” Garrett’s voice trembled with emotion. Arlana could see he was only now beginning to realize how little she had revealed about her part in their scheme. If he knew, she was sure he would stop her. “There is no time to explain. You must go.” Logan stepped forward. “Arlana?” he prodded. “Wait for me downstairs,” Garrett requested of his friend. Logan didn’t move. “Please,” Garrett persisted. After a moment, Logan bowed to the prince and left. “Garrett, don’t worry for me. I know what I am doing.” He didn’t say anything. With his free hand, he pulled her close and held her cheek against his heart. The other hand still held the sword dipped in her blood. She could feel the hard steel of it against her back. Arlana wrapped her arms around him, letting his warmth penetrate to her soul, listening to the steady beat that affirmed life. She lifted her head and found his lips hovering a breath from
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hers. The kiss was soft, almost brotherly. He pulled away and looked down at her. Before she could speak, his mouth covered hers with crushing resolve. His free hand grasped her hair, holding her hard against him as she felt his passion flare and burn away the daunting fear. He took what she offered and demanded more. By the time he loosened his hold, her blood boiled with need. Her fears were gone, replaced now by desire. He smiled. “We will celebrate this night,” he told her in a husky voice. Suddenly she remembered the final step to the spell. Breathless, she told him, “When all is done today, kiss me again, even if I sleep.” “I will make sure you are awake,” he told her, cocking an eyebrow. He kissed her hand and left. As she gathered the charred remains of the willow log she had burned in the enchanted fire, she thought of their night together, such a slim ray of hope. Arlana took a cleansing breath and left the tower to face her destiny and her death.
Chapter 5 Logan waited outside the doorway of the banquet room. If Arlana’s prophesy proved true, the king would leave to go to the throne room very soon. Even as Logan prayed Arlana was mistaken, he watched King Malcolm come toward him. “Logan. What is it you and Garrett wished to discuss?” the king asked with good humor. So that was the ruse. “Who told you we wanted an audience, Your Majesty?” Logan waited to hear the name of one of the traitors. Malcolm looked puzzled. “Sir Edward. Is there a problem? Where is Garrett?” Sir Edward, the king’s personal attendant. Logan shuddered to think of all the information within Edward’s grasp. No doubt Edward had enticed several others to join him. The conniver could lure a cat into a dragon’s lair. Logan clinched his fists. He wanted to hit someone, preferably that conniving snake Edward. “Logan?” The king placed a reassuring hand on Logan’s shoulder. Concern and curiosity furrowed Malcolm’s brow. Logan took a deep breath. Garrett and Arlana had dumped this part of the scheme squarely on his shoulders. After hours of deliberation, his only plan consisted of nothing more than a childish prank. It would not sit well with the king, but Malcolm’s safety must take precedence. “I’m sorry for this, Your Majesty. Please believe me, ‘tis for your own safety.” Logan forced the confused king into a small closet and locked the door, grimacing at Malcolm's explosive remarks. He’d let Prince Garrett explain—if they survived.
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**** Numerous candles affixed to the walls illuminated the small throne room. Their light cast animated forms over the walls, each flickering side to side as if anticipating the show. Portraits of past kings watched over the room from their gilded frames. As an interior room, there were no windows, only stone and wood. Without fresh air, the room felt stuffy and smelled of mildew and candle wax. A colorful tapestry depicting the peaceful, rolling countryside of Leighton covered the wall opposite a great carved-oak throne. The room inspired unity, but tonight, Garrett felt isolated. He had known fear before—for his own life, for Logan’s, and for the lives of the men who followed him. This was different. The fate of the entire kingdom depended on a peculiar young woman’s mystical talents. Arlana waited behind the throne, hidden by the massive chair. When he’d last checked on her, her face had gone pale, her frosty green eyes dull and tired. He wanted to tell her to go back to her tower, to hide from the danger that would soon be upon them, but he needed her. He needed her to succeed. Garrett sat upon the royal chair and draped himself in his father’s hooded robes. The time drew near. Logan slipped silently into the room. Garrett acknowledged Logan’s nod indicating the king was secured and watched his friend take position behind the ornate tapestry. They waited. A cold draft preceded the figure wrapped in black. Garrett heard Arlana’s sharp intake of breath. In a whisper so soft it sounded like a sigh, he heard her begin her incantation. Adrenaline coursed through Garrett’s veins. His enemy and nemesis approached. Cadmar didn’t walk, he floated. The stench of decayed flesh drifted in his wake. “King Malcolm, how nice we finally…” The gravely ethereal voice stopped in mid-sentence as Garrett removed the royal robes, stepping forward to face his spectral enemy. Garrett narrowed his eyes. Hatred burned, fierce and threatening, within him. “What trickery is this? I come for a king, and I find a useless prince.” Contempt filled Cadmar’s eerie voice. The hood of his cape hid his features in shadow, except for his red, glowing eyes. “‘Tis of little consequence,” he decided with a wave of his cloak-covered hand. “I
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will just have to kill you first.” “You will have to kill us both,” Logan declared as he stepped from his hiding place. Cadmar took little notice of Logan as he addressed Prince Garrett. “You pathetic mortals dare to challenge me.” The flames of the torches shivered as if with fear when the wizard spoke. From under the black cloak, a shriveled, gray hand lifted toward Garrett. Dry, translucent skin stretched over the bony fingers. A ball of white light formed in the outstretched palm. With a flick of Cadmar’s wrist, the orb of energy flew from his dead hand. It struck the prince’s chest with such force, Garrett was thrown off his feet. He landed in a heap in front of the throne. Electricity surged through his limbs, draining his strength. “No!” Logan yelled. Garrett pulled himself to a sitting position. Logan leapt forward and stabbed his sword through the ghostly figure. The prince heard the ripping of cloth, then nothing. The wizard was untouched. Cadmar laughed and whirled to face Logan, turning his back to the prince. “Surely you are not fool enough to believe simple steel could end the reign of the world’s most powerful wizard?” Garrett watched his friend confront their enemy. Logan’s eyes glinted not with fear, but with unrestrained anger. From behind the throne, a silvery mist snaked its way toward Cadmar. They needed to give Arlana a few more moments. Cadmar’s glowing red eyes fixed Logan with a piercing stare. “Kill the prince,” he ordered. Logan locked eyes with Garrett as the prince got to his feet. The echo of the shriveled wizard’s voice recoiled off the stone walls in a sickening chant. Logan’s knuckles were white on the hilt of his raised sword as he strode across the room. The mist crept nearer the cloaked figure. Logan stopped in front of his life-long friend. Garrett saw cold rage in Logan’s black eyes. Arlana’s prophecy played in his head. Hurry, Arlana. Garrett raised his blade solely in defense, but then he saw Logan’s wink and the quick curve of his lips. Garrett silently thanked Arlana for her forethought as he and Logan turned in
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unison to face Cadmar. “What is this? I ordered you to destroy the prince!” Cadmar had raised his fist to blast both men when the shimmering vapor reached beneath his cloak. He stilled. “I feel it,” the wizard whispered. Cadmar lifted his bony hand in front of his hooded face. The digits plumped with life. His eyes closed, or changed. Either way, the red glow vanished. “Yes!” he rejoiced. “I live.” As if the declaration was their cue, the two faithful friends lunged at Cadmar. Logan cut through the villain’s lungs. Garrett pierced his heart. As Garrett’s blade arrested the loathsome heart, a warm surge of energy flowed through him. Cadmar collapsed on the cold, stone floor with an echoing thud. Garrett and Logan stood over the slain wizard. The hood no longer hid his features. His face had been restored to its youthful appearance. Cadmar had died with a look of awe in his eyes. “We did it,” Logan panted. The friends looked at each other. This was a battle neither warrior would ever forget. “You weren’t planning to run me through, were you?” Garrett joked breathlessly. “Certainly not. Arlana would not appreciate it if I were to ignore her magic,” Logan countered. He stumbled to the throne. “We’ve won, Lady Arlana. You can come out. All is...” His sword clanged on the ground as he dropped to his knees behind the great chair. Garrett approached cautiously. “Logan?” Logan looked over his shoulder into the face of his friend. “She is already pale with death,” Logan whispered in grief, his fingers caressing her check. “No!” Garrett exclaimed. Alarm and pain warred with disbelief. She couldn’t be gone, not when he was just beginning to realize she held his heart. Arlana lay motionless on the floor. Her hand still held the charcoal. The look of death already tinged her lips blue. Her breath was still. Her pulse had stopped. Logan stroked her hair. There were no words to say.
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The prince knelt across from Logan and placed his hand on her check where Logan’s had been. Her color seemed to brighten with his touch. He looked across Arlana to meet Logan’s forsaken eyes. “She was so young, so naive,” Logan said bitterly. “She shouldn’t have been here. We shouldn’t have let her do this.” His voice was choked with emotion. Garrett stroked her hair. He couldn’t let go, not without a fight. He shook his head, looking directly at Logan. “She is not dead.” Garrett willed it to be so. Logan stared at his friend. “Get Baldwin,” the prince ordered. Logan rose and left to fetch Arlana’s father. Garrett pulled Arlana to his chest. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged as he held her against him. She felt warm to his touch. Or was the warmth coming from him? He saw the two charcoal circles on the floor. One contained a heart. Inside the heart, Arlana had drawn a book and a crown. The other contained only a coiled snake. Curved lines billowed between the circles. “What have you done?” he whispered. She had drawn the air flowing out of the heart and into the serpent. “No, Arlana.” He bent his head down in defeat and touched his lips to hers to say good-bye. She took a single breath. He pulled back and gasped. Her color seemed brighter, or maybe he was just wishing for a miracle…or magic. He remembered her words. Kiss me when it’s done, even if I sleep. He kissed her again, and again. When her lips parted and began to move under his, he lifted his head. “More,” she murmured, barely audible. He did as she requested. She fisted her hand in his hair and held him to her as the kiss changed, became more heated, empowered. “By what magic have you come back to me?” His voice was filled with awe as he rocked
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her against his chest. He clung to her like a child would a favored blanket during a violent storm. “Cadmar is dead?” she asked. He nodded. “You held my life inside you,” she explained, placing her hand on his heart as she turned and knelt in front of him. “Your sword drew my breath from Cadmar at his death. You held it until you breathed it back into me.” Sir Baldwin and Logan rushed into the room. “Arlana!” Sir Baldwin exclaimed in relief. “Child, what in the name of God is going on? Logan told me you were dead.” Before she could answer, Logan gathered her into his arms. “I thought… No, who cares what I thought. You are alive. You are real.” Logan cradled her face in his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Garrett’s stomach clenched at the sight, though he had no need to be jealous. Logan’s joyous laughter jolted the prince’s mind back into focus. As they began to explain the events of the day to an anxious Sir Baldwin, Garrett pointed to Cadmar’s body. The wizard’s corpse lay in the center of the small room. Blood pooled around him, and his startled eyes stared blankly into space. Arlana gasped, holding one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach. The color that had only recently returned to her face, drained away. Garrett turned her away from the body. Arlana needed rest, not to stare into the face of death. “Sir Baldwin, could you take Arlana to my father? She will explain to you both.” Logan groaned. Tipping his head back, he slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. “The king. I forgot.” He gave Garrett a grave look. “I locked him in the closet outside the banquet room.” “You what?” While the thought of Logan putting his stubborn father into a closet was quite amusing, Garrett wasn’t so sure the king would find it funny. “That was your great plan?” Garrett asked, somewhere between shock and laughter. “I never said it was a great plan.” Logan turned to Arlana. “You said to keep him away
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from here. What else could I do?” Logan ran his hands over his rugged face. “Why don’t you let him out, and explain?” Logan suggested to Sir Baldwin and Arlana. Garrett noticed Arlana’s color had returned as she struggled to keep a straight face. Baldwin, stifling a laugh himself, took the key Logan proffered and led Arlana into the hall, leaving Logan and Garrett to deal with the body. **** Arlana brought an infuriated King Malcolm, Queen Deirdre and Sir Baldwin to her tower. Here she could tell the tale without fear of being overheard. There were details the enemy shouldn’t know. Sir Baldwin lit a fire in the grate as Arlana began her story. She told of her visions and of what Prince Garrett, Logan and she had done. Explaining how they had accomplished the deed seemed complicated and pointless. For now, Arlana would hold some secrets close to her heart. “Lady Arlana, the Kingdom of Leighton is in your debt. Your bravery and skills will be rewarded,” King Malcolm proclaimed as he kissed her cheek. Queen Deirdre showed her gratitude with a tearful embrace. “You saved my son and my husband. Whatever I have is yours.” “I ask for nothing. I helped those deserving of my aid and my heart. This is my home. You made it so when you welcomed my father and me.” Baldwin hugged her as well. Fatigue pulled at her as Arlana melted in her father’s safe, familiar embrace. “You are exhausted, child.” He looked down at her face. “Go to your chambers and rest. I need to discuss some matters with King Malcolm.” He pulled her closer. “I am proud of you,” he whispered in her ear. The queen took Arlana’s arm to accompany her to her rooms. “Speak not a word of this to anyone,” Baldwin warned them as they turned to leave. “More traitors may yet wander the castle.” Arlana’s shoulders tensed at Baldwin’s warning. She knew well the truth of his words. **** Prince Garrett ordered Cadmar’s body buried and the small throne room cleaned of the blood. Then he and Logan set out in search of Sir Edward. He was nowhere to be found. Six of Leighton’s knights were missing as well. This
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discovery festered in Garrett’s mind as he and Logan made their way to the tower. The door opened with the lightest touch of Garrett’s hand. Garrett made no outward sign that he noticed, though to him it meant that Arlana waited for them, and he wanted very much to see her. Logan shook his head and sighed as the door slowly sealed itself behind them. The torches glowed in the still air of the staircase. How odd, that in such a short time he’d become accustomed to this climb and to this tower. It felt compelling. Familiar voices met them when they reached the top of the spiral stairs. Inside, the fire and several candles lit the tower room. “Father, Sir Baldwin, I am glad you are here.” Garrett greeted each man with a nod. The interruption startled both the king and Sir Baldwin. “How did you get in?” Baldwin asked. “The door opened for us. I assumed Arlana had opened it.” Logan’s deep bow to the king made Garrett smile. King Malcolm’s finest tunic of red trimmed in gold was dusty. Cobwebs still clung to the hem. His curt nod toward Logan along with his obvious scowl indicated he was not pleased about his recent stay in a broom closet. Garrett broke the tense moment. “The armies of Cadmar still pose a substantial threat, even without their leader. Edward and six knights have fled. Logan and I believe there may be more traitors among us that pose a threat to your safety.” Malcolm smiled at his son. While Garrett appreciated the pride he saw in his father’s eyes, he did nothing to acknowledge it. “I agree. What do you propose?” Malcolm asked. “Sire, Sir Edward tricked you into leaving the banquet.” Logan glanced at Baldwin who nodded his agreement. “He must know Cadmar failed.” “We have Sir Kendrick searching, but we suspect Sir Edward and the others are too familiar with the kingdom. I doubt they will be found,” Garrett said. “Then their army will know you live and that you leave tomorrow to persuade our allies to join us,” Baldwin thought out loud. “Yes, that is why we leave tonight,” Garrett declared.
Chapter 6 “And the wart on her nose grew to three times its original size. Of course, I pointed this out to her before all her hair fell out.” Logan paused to take a breath. They had departed from Leighton nearly six hours earlier. The only light now came from the half moon in the clear sky. A cool breeze made the ride comfortable, almost lulling. Their horses trudged along the well-worn road, hardly needing guidance from their riders. Logan’s attempts to keep them both alert fell on uncooperative ears. Garrett’s thoughts kept drifting back to Arlana. He had wanted to say good-bye. His reasons for going to the tower weren’t solely to confer with the king. Now, as he and Logan made their way in the dark, his mind filled with memories of the night before, the night he and Arlana had shared. Would there be another? A fire burned through him at the thought. Logan drew his horse closer in order to nudge Garrett’s shoulder. “Now I know you’re sleeping.” “Not sleeping, just thinking.” Dreaming, Garrett thought, shaking the fog from his head. It was unwise for them to let down their guard. Cadmar’s scouts could be anywhere. “Of what?” Garrett only smiled. “We’ve a very long night ahead of us,” Logan prodded, apparently enjoying the new diversion. “I am known for my persistence.” Garrett sighed, debating how much to say. “I should have talked to Arlana before we left. We will be away at least two weeks’ time.” He shook his head. “I should have checked on her.” “Sir Baldwin assured us she was well,” Logan reminded Garrett. “She was just exhausted
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and in need of sleep. I doubt she slept much last night.” Logan paused and his frown deepened. Garrett didn’t comment. Instead he focused on his friend. “We should never have involved her in any of this,” Logan muttered. Garrett saw his friend clench his jaw. Logan’s horse sidestepped and shook its head in response to his rider’s stiffness. “We didn’t involve her. She involved us,” Garrett said. “We could not have stopped her, and we could not have succeeded without her.” “She is very brave and beautiful,” Logan said on a sigh. “Never would I have believed her magic if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I truly misjudged her.” Garrett sat a little straighter in his saddle. While he had no intention of examining his own feelings toward Arlana, he had great interest in closely examining Logan’s. “You have an interest in Lady Arlana?” Logan turned in his saddle to look Garrett in the eye. “A man could do worse.” “I wasn’t aware you were thinking of making a match. Do you intend to pursue her, then?” Logan laughed. “Maybe.” He spurred his horse into a canter before Garrett could comment. **** Arlana plopped down on the old upholstered chair in her tower with a dejected sigh. The relaxing scent of herbs drying on the hearth provided no relief for the tension creeping into her shoulders. “How could he just leave?” she asked the crackling embers of the fireplace. She picked at the frayed material covering the chair’s arm. The hollowed out sensation that had hit her when Baldwin told her Garrett had left for Thalim still haunted her a week later. “He didn’t even say good-bye.” Perhaps the night she spent in the prince’s arms endured only in her mind. Perhaps he had felt none of the magic. She rose to pace. “Duty before love, or friendship, or even courtesy.” She spat out the last word. A part of her—a large part—hoped he was as miserable as she, that he felt her absence as keenly as she felt his. In truth, she had no idea what Garrett thought, only that he was “fond” of her.
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He had no way to know what she faced now. Her secret weighed heavily upon her. She had known, of course, the moment she had awakened from death. She had succeeded in forging the connection. She carried Prince Garrett’s child. Arlana touched her flat abdomen. The fluttering she felt there came from nerves. Soon she would feel life. Though still unsettled, she knew what she must do. Arlana left her tower with a clear objective and a hundred butterflies colliding in her stomach. **** Arlana found her father staring out the window of the library with an open book in his lap. Deep furrows marred his brow. He was worried for her. Now she would give him even more cause. King Malcolm had created the library for his friend upon Baldwin’s return from abroad. Bookshelves lined the walls. Maps from all over the world rested in neat stacks. Three large windows let in the sunlight, and numerous candles lit every corner. Baldwin often came here to think, to plan and to dream. “Father, may I speak with you?” Arlana asked quietly. “Certainly, child.” He closed the book he had been ignoring and gestured to the chair beside him. He smiled, but curiosity lit his eyes. Straight, true, complete, she had decided. It was the only way to get through it. Arlana took a deep breath and began where she had left off the night Cadmar had died. “The spell I used to give Cadmar my life’s breath was simple, however, the counter spell was more complicated.” She watched his eyes. There was concern, love and trust there. How she wished she didn’t have to tell him the rest. “It was easy enough to put a spell on Garrett’s sword, because it was an inanimate object. A little of my blood made the connection complete.” Baldwin winced at the description. “You see, unless freely given, one’s life’s breath will not flow to another, even in death, unless it is called and there is a connection.” She paused, afraid of his reaction. “A blood connection,” she added tentatively. “I see. So your life’s breath,” he shuddered as he said the words, “recognized the sword
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because of your blood.” “Yes, exactly.” She was relieved that he understood. “And from the sword to Garrett, what was the connection?” Baldwin’s voice had changed in a heartbeat. Arlana took the final step with a very serious tone. “The sword called the breath, but it was merely the conduit. The blood tie had to be with Garrett as well.” Again, she watched her father’s eyes. “The night before we faced Cadmar, I…I went to his bed chamber.” She couldn’t tell him about that night, about what it had meant to her. “Father.” She placed her hand over his. “I-I am with child.” At first shock, then disbelief filled his eyes. “How can you be certain? It has been only nine days.” “If I were not with child, I would be dead,” she stated simply. Sir Baldwin stood and began pacing. A movement by the door caught his eye. “You! What are you doing there?” Baldwin barked. “N-nothing, My Lord. I am sorry,” the young page sputtered and hurried past. “Do you think he was listening?” Arlana asked anxiously. “Doubtful,” Sir Baldwin said, but continued to stare down the empty hall. Arlana rose to stand at her father’s side. “I am sorry. I had no wish to dishonor you.” He turned and embraced her. “Arlana, you are the brightest light in my life. You have sacrificed much to save our kingdom. I am now, as always, very proud of you. We will handle this together.” **** Several nights later, while Arlana slept in her bedroom, Sir Baldwin stood at the window in his adjoining room, contemplating the future. He knew it would be shortsighted and foolish to believe all the traitors had fled. With Edward gone, no one knew who else within the castle might be a traitor. As word of Cadmar’s demise spread from village to village, Baldwin became more apprehensive. Logic stirred the rumor that sorcery had been instrumental in Cadmar’s death. Magic must destroy magic, after all. Baldwin’s fear concerned who the villagers suspected of the magic. He feared that someone might think of the strange little orphan girl raised by the wise
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man. Arlana had always elicited speculation—first for the odd circumstances that brought her to Castle Leighton, though few knew the whole story, and later for her solitary, nonconforming ways and her knowledge of herbal remedies. It wouldn’t take long for someone to link Arlana to the sorcery. It wouldn’t take long for Arlana’s condition to become apparent either. He remembered the boy lurking at the library door. The enemy might already know of Arlana’s condition, as well as the father’s name. Baldwin reached a decision his daughter would hate, but at least she would be safe. Baldwin remained at the window breathing in the warm summer breeze. Garrett was due back in three days’ time. What would his reaction be? Did he love Arlana, or had he just used her? Though Baldwin was grateful for his daughter’s life, he still felt a father’s anger. **** In her room, Arlana slept. She dreamed of Garrett declaring his love for her and the baby, the three of them living happily ever after. Then a shadow entered her dream—a dark, dangerous shadow. Garrett yelled in alarm for her to move. She obeyed. When the blade nicked her arm, she came fully awake. The shadow stood over her, a hooded intruder intent on killing her. Fear froze her voice. Arlana leapt from her bed to grab the broad sword that rested atop her trunk. The intruder stumbled back as she matched his blows. She fought, pleased that her minimal skills had caught her attacker off guard. “Damn girl! I will send you to the devil!” the assailant cursed as Arlana drew blood from his arm. “Father! Help!” Arlana yelled as her voice returned. Sir Baldwin burst into the room before her screams died in her throat. Sword drawn, he leapt to Arlana’s aid. The attacker lunged at Arlana. He found the point of Baldwin’s rapier instead. The assailant froze. His sword clanged against the floor. He fell away from Baldwin’s blade and slumped to the ground, dead. Baldwin wrapped his arm around his daughter. He eased the sword from her hand. She looked into his panicked face as tears began to flow down her cheeks. So many thoughts raced
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through her mind, she had trouble focusing on any one. Who was the intruder? Why had he attacked her? Was he acting alone, or were there other dangers waiting in the dark? Baldwin’s arm tightened around her shoulder. They moved as if still in a dream, a dreadfully real dream. Baldwin lowered her gently to the settee and wrapped a blanket around her. “Rest here, my child. People came and went through her field of vision. She became vaguely aware of the throbbing in her arm and looked down to find it wrapped securely with a linen bandage. She shook her head to clear her muddled mind. The child in her womb needed her protection and her intellect. As she looked into the bedchamber, it seemed very small with the king, her father, and Sir Kendrick all crowded over the slain intruder. “Who was he?” she asked from the doorway. Kendrick nodded to her. “Daniel, son of Lawrence of Penndale. He was a soldier with our army.” Arlana looked around the room, careful to avoid the eyes of the dead man. She searched for Prince Garrett. She knew he wasn’t there, but the dream had seemed so real. His warning had been real. Confused and frightened, Arlana followed Sir Baldwin to a guest chamber where she slept under the protection of a trusted knight. **** Before dawn the next day, Arlana willingly packed. The life that grew inside her needed to be protected. “My sweet girl, I will come for you soon. You will be safe in the sea cottage. Few know of its existence,” Baldwin told his daughter as she climbed into the wagon beside Sir Kendrick. She knew Baldwin now trusted precious few within the kingdom. Kendrick had proven himself a faithful friend and a strong warrior. An old man of past forty years, he reminded Arlana of a cranky uncle, not much fun but devoted to her best interests. With his aid, she would hide until Cadmar’s army and any conspirators were vanquished. “What will you tell everyone, Father?”
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Baldwin smiled. “That you are being sent to a convent to learn the social graces. His Majesty knows I only wish to keep you safe. The rest of the kingdom will think I’ve finally followed through with my threats.” He winked at her and patted her hand. “Aye, no doubt they will find it humorous,” Arlana said with a sad chuckle. How many times had her father said he should send her to a convent to learn to be a lady? “They will be disappointed when I return as unladylike as ever.” “Ah, child, you are surely as fine a lady as has ever been.” Baldwin touched his daughter’s face. The sun was rising. Soon the castle would be bustling. Sir Kendrick urged the horses forward. “Good-bye, Father. I love you.” Arlana wiped a tear from her cheek. Arlana watched Sir Baldwin standing at the gate until he was but a speck between tiny stone pillars.
Chapter 7 Garrett and Logan returned successfully after a twelve-day absence. “Your Majesty, we bring you great tidings,” Garrett announced when he and Logan stood before King Malcolm and Sir Baldwin. Though thoroughly cleaned, the small throne room held vivid memories for Garrett. He glanced to the throne where his father sat. He remembered Arlana, lying there dead. Malcolm had arranged the room for a conference. A long table stood in front of the throne. Baldwin sat to his left. The three chairs across from them were empty. “My son, I am quite relieved to have you both home safely.” Malcolm rose to embrace his son and grasp hands with Logan. “Yes, Father, it’s good to be home. We have much to tell you.” Garrett gestured for Logan to continue. “We have secured the allegiance of Thalim, as well as Crestwood to the west and Garland to the south.” Logan paused and Garrett continued. “‘Tis said the rumor of Cadmar’s demise has traveled to his troops. Those who believe him dead are deserting, though a sizable army still exists. With the combined forces of our allies, we have enough men to defeat the enemy soundly and swiftly.” Garrett paused, not comfortable with the rest of his news. “This is truly reassuring news. Our kingdom is in your debt.” Malcolm slapped his son heartily on the back and gestured for Garrett and Logan to sit. Garrett sat across from an oddly silent Sir Baldwin. “Father,” Garrett began. “King Randolph of Thalim has reason to believe Edward is more
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than just one of the traitors. Sir Edward is the true leader of the barbarians.” Malcolm’s face fell. “His information comes from Edward’s spies, captured in Thalim before we arrived. I’m sorry, Father. I know his betrayal cuts deeply.” The young men gave the king a detailed explanation of the events of the conference. As they finished, Garrett became cognizant of Sir Baldwin’s silence and his reproachful stare. “Sire, what is the situation within Leighton?” Logan asked. “Edward has disappeared, but another traitor has been uncovered.” Garrett stared at Malcolm. “Sire?” the prince prodded. The gentle lines that gave his father’s face character suddenly made him look old. “Sir Daniel,” Malcolm began. “I want to talk to him!” Garrett stood, nearly knocking over his chair. “He is dead,” Baldwin exclaimed. Garrett had never heard such an edge in the kindly man’s voice before. “I am afraid I was over zealous when I found him attacking Arlana.” Controlled violence tainted Baldwin’s words. “Arlana?” Garrett and Logan questioned in unison. “Is she all right?” Garrett asked quickly. “She is safe in a secure hide-away,” Baldwin responded. “Why?” Garrett wondered aloud. His blood had suddenly gone cold. He couldn’t think clearly. “Why would anyone attack Lady Arlana?” “Perhaps for revenge, or for fear of her powers,” Malcolm suggested. Baldwin fixed an accusing gaze on Garrett. “There may be another reason.” Malcolm placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Baldwin,” the king started in a calming tone. Garrett interrupted his father. “What reason?” With his palms resting on the table, the prince leaned forward and met Baldwin’s cold eyes with a hard, direct stare. “My daughter is with child.” Baldwin’s voice held contempt for the prince. Logan and Malcolm gaped at Baldwin. Garrett’s heart missed several beats, but he held his features steady. In the back of his mind he’d known it was a possibility, though Arlana had told him it was safe.
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“Do you deny it is your child, Your Highness?” Baldwin challenged, getting to his feet. “It is mine,” Garrett responded clearly, standing erect. He knew he was the only man to have touched her. “What?” Logan stood and rounded on Garrett. “She trusted us! She trusted you! How could you do this?” Garrett stood still as he accepted Logan’s verbal blows. He deserved them. Arlana had given herself in fear and for love. The prince held his hands up in surrender and shook his head. “She came to my chambers the night before Cadmar arrived,” he explained to his friend and his father. “It was not my intention.” Logan relaxed his stance and released a deep breath. “That was less than two weeks ago. She can’t know so soon. Perhaps she’s mistaken.” “If she were not with child, she would be dead.” Baldwin bit off the last word as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. “Her life’s breath would only go to one it recognized by blood.” Everyone was silent. Garrett tried to reconcile what Baldwin said with what Arlana had told him. “Her blood was on my sword,” Garrett remembered, reaching for the hilt at his side. “Surely that was enough.” “Her life would not have come to you unless there was a living connection to you,” Baldwin said. “You’re saying she seduced Garrett so part of him would live in her?” Logan questioned incredulously. “But there was no guarantee she would conceive.” “Hope was all she had.” Baldwin sat hard upon his chair. He placed his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. Garrett turned away from the group. Their talking became a buzz he couldn’t decipher. He replayed that night again in his mind, but this time it brought no warmth. She had seduced him. She had tricked him. She had lied to him. All those words of love were false. Garrett spun around to face the others. “I want to see her.” Garrett’s harsh voice brought Logan to his side. Logan spoke quietly to the prince. “It would be better to wait. Calm yourself, think about
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how to deal with this.” Pushing Logan aside, Garrett stalked over to Baldwin. “Where is she?” Logan tried to reason with his friend. “Garrett, this isn’t—” “She lied to me!” Garrett roared, whirling to face Logan. “I would have done anything she asked to keep her safe. All she had to do was tell me the truth.” “If you had known what she was going to do, would you have let her?” Logan countered. Garrett grunted and rubbed his thumb over the medallion around his neck. No. Logan was right, he would never have gone along with Arlana’s plan if he had known the truth. But he knew the truth now, and it hurt. For days he’d obsessed over the brave, sweet, passionate woman. Now he discovered their night together had been a lie, no more than a means to an end. “Tell me where I can find Arlana.” Garrett slammed his hands down on the table in front of Baldwin’s seat. “It’s not safe. The enemy will be watching you,” Baldwin snapped. “Then I will find her on my own!” Garrett stormed out of the room. Logan followed, muttering about stubborn, blind fools. **** Several hours later, Garrett watched from the tower window as Logan approached the dreaded, enchanted door. Logan tried to open it, but it held fast. He tried commanding it to open and immediately felt foolish for doing so. Knocking produced no results. He swore and pounded, and a few moments later, the door opened. Startled, Logan jumped back. Garrett grumbled, “Sorry, I don’t have Arlana’s flair.” “I hate this stupid door.” Logan scowled as he entered the enchanted tower. Odd, the door opened easily for me, but then Arlana and I are connected now, aren’t we, Garrett thought irritably. The tower room felt cold, musty and gloomy. No fire generated heat, no herbs scented the air, and no breeze disturbed the emptiness. It suited Garrett’s mood. “Find anything?” Logan asked, scanning the dust filled room. The clutter of books and parchments strewn about the table and floor gave testament to
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Garrett’s search. The prince shook his head. “It might be for the best. You need to think this through.” “If you’re not here to help, you can get the hell out,” Garrett barked. “I’ll help,” Logan snapped back. “Do you know what you’re going to say when we find her?” Garrett scanned the spines of the books still on the shelves while his fingers worked the medallion at his neck. He didn’t expect to find anything helpful, but he was running out of places to look. Discouraged and fatigued, Garrett sat in a chair by the unlit hearth. After a moment of quiet, he spoke. “I’m going to ask her why she lied.” “We know why she had to lie.” “No. We know why she didn’t tell us everything. I want to know why she lied to me. She said she loved me. I even felt guilty that I couldn’t return the words.” “But you could now,” Logan concluded. “I could have a few hours ago.” Garrett wasn’t sure any more. “Arlana wouldn’t lie.” Logan held up his hands to stop Garrett’s protest. “She may not have told us everything, but she would never lie.” “We may never know,” Garrett spat in disgust as he rose from the chair. His blood ran too hot to sit still. “There is nothing here to tell me where they sent her.” He stalked over to the worktable. Logan smiled. “I may be able to help. You remember Marla, the scullery maid?” Garrett nodded. “She told me the rumor is that Baldwin finally made good on his threat to send Arlana to a convent.” Garrett winced. Arlana would hate that. “But that would be too obvious and make it too easy for someone to find her. Baldwin is determined to keep her safe,” Logan continued. “So where does that leave us?” Garrett questioned. “Her escort, the only knight that Baldwin would trust with his daughter, Sir Kendrick. I questioned him at length. Apparently Arlana was furious with you for leaving without saying
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good-bye.” “She spoke to Kendrick about me?” Garrett hoped that was a good sign. “Yes. And he trusts us to protect her secret hiding place.” “Logan, you are truly a cunning fox. I’m glad you’re on my side.” The duo left two days later on a trumped up scouting mission. **** High upon a secluded cliff sat a small cottage. The sea roared below, crashing rhythmically against the rocks, creating a fine salt mist. Arlana could taste the salt in the air. From one window, she saw the steep road that led to her haven. Gangly trees clung bravely to the rocky slope. They enveloped the only access to her perch. Her father had chosen her hiding place well. Each day she found herself staring out the window, wishing. Her attention rarely wandered to the beauty and rugged danger of the cliffs. Only Garrett filled her mind. Did he know about the baby? Did he care? If she kept busy, gathering food and wood, the hollow sensation in her chest could be ignored. But this afternoon, as she stared out at the road, the ache grew. She felt him long before the two riders came into view. Butterflies danced in her stomach. What had he been told? She waited at the gate to the small front yard and held her hand above her eyes for shade from the sinking sun. “Hello, welcome,” she greeted. Her voice sounded small and unsure, even to her own ears. Garrett’s features were shadowed, but she felt his anger nonetheless. The men dismounted and tied their horses to the gatepost. “How are you?” Garrett asked. “Fine.” Arlana’s nerves settled a little. “I am glad you have come. I feared my father would not tell you where to find me.” She turned and led them into the one-room cottage. It was clean and warm, though sparsely furnished. A pallet lay by the fire for her bed. A table with four chairs stood in the center of the wood planked floor. The stone walls held no adornments save the four windows. “Your father didn’t tell us where you were,” Garrett informed her. His voice took on a
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stiff edge. The sun had obscured her view of him outside. Now she saw the flash of anger in his blue eyes. It did little to mar his handsome face. “You look well,” Logan told Arlana and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” She smiled at him. “I trust your trip to Thalim was successful.” “Yes, quite.” Before Logan could continue, Garrett interrupted. “Logan, go and see to the horses,” the prince commanded. “I need to speak with Arlana.” Logan glared at the prince. He looked as if he were about to protest being ordered in such a manner, but must have thought better of it. He grabbed an apple from the table and left the cottage. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between Garrett and Arlana. She watched him pace the small room, his left hand fumbling with his medallion. “What did you wish to say, my prince?” she asked at last. “I don’t know.” He threw up his arms in frustration then grasped the back of a chair. “I am so angry with you.” Why? Did he know of the baby? Did he feel trapped, or betrayed because she had told him she was not ripe to conceive? “I see.” “Is it true you are with child?” She nodded and placed a protective hand over her abdomen. Garrett’s eyes blazed with anger. “A pity you didn’t see fit to tell me.” “You were gone. You left without even saying good-bye.” “I had no choice.” “Neither did I.” “And now you carry my child.” He said it with such disgust, she trembled in response. “I ask nothing of you, Sire. I can care for the babe on my own.” She wasn’t sure how she would manage alone, but she would not use the child to bind him to her. “Is that what you think of me?” he seethed. “That I would walk away from my own blood? How it must have repulsed you to have had to lay with me.” “No!” she protested in alarm. He was twisting her words. “I love…” His furious glare halted the words in her throat.
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“Do not lie to me again,” he snarled. “I know why you came to me that night!” Garrett’s volume was rising as he lost what little control he had left. “I will tolerate no more lies from you!” “I never lied to you!” She poked at his chest with the force of the fury that was in her heart. It gave her satisfaction to see him flinch. “I admit, I would not have been so bold were it not for the dire circumstances, but I spoke only the truth.” Tears stung her eyes. Unable to stop them, she turned away so he would not see. He said nothing while she struggled with her tears. How could he question her heart when she had given it to him totally, willingly and with no demands? “Arlana,” Garrett interrupted her thoughts. He spoke gruffly but more quietly. “Please don’t cry.” “I am not crying!” she snuffled. Garrett’s nervous laugh had her spinning around to face him. “Then what are you doing?” he asked. “I-Oh…” she sputtered. Finally, she gave up and smiled. At least they weren’t yelling at each other any more. With a sigh, she asked, “What now?” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “As soon as it is safe, we will wed.” He said it as if he was only asking her to dance, but it wasn’t a question. She stared dumbstruck. “No,” she finally managed solemnly. “I will not marry because you feel an obligation.” “What?” His voice vibrated with disbelief and alarm. She touched his cheek gently, her eyes saying more than her words. “You deserve to fall in love.” She looked away. “I deserve to be loved.” “I do love you,” he argued. She shook her head. “You are saying that so I will agree with your plan. You were honest with me the night we were together. I ask no more than that now.” She quieted his protest by touching her fingers to his lips. “Fondness is not love.” Though her heart still ached, she turned away to tend the pot that hung over the fire. They had solved nothing. Where was she to go from here? What was she to do? “Please call Logan to eat. You must be hungry from your journey.” Garrett did as she asked without comment.
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**** Logan watched them while they ate. The open window had allowed him to overhear enough to know Garrett and Arlana were not in agreement. Why was it love could turn even the most intelligent people into fools? What they needed was more time to talk. “There are clouds gathering over the sea,” Logan mentioned as he ate his second bowl of turtle soup. The few white, fluffy clouds were about as threatening as a newborn lamb. “I hadn’t noticed,” Garrett replied vaguely. “We should wait until they pass to leave. I’ve no interest in riding in the rain.” Garrett glanced out the window facing the sea, but he didn’t comment. Logan wondered whether his friend even saw the sky. The light had gone from Garrett’s eyes, as if Arlana’s refusal to marry him had blown out a candle of hope. Logan and Arlana passed the remainder of the evening with stories of home and the alliance. Garrett remained quiet. **** That night, as Arlana and Logan slept, Garrett lay awake. He felt unsettled, baffled and frustrated. Women were incomprehensible. He couldn’t walk away from his own child, but she refused to marry him. He would not allow his child to be born a bastard. He got up to pace, too agitated by his thoughts to remain still. If there were not a baby, what then? The answer came to him without effort. It was Arlana he wanted. “Arlana.” He spoke her name in reverence as he resolved to make her his wife, whether she objected or not. “Having trouble sleeping, Your Highness?” Arlana asked in a smoky voice. Garrett watched her raise her head to look at him. She looked radiant in the hearth glow. Her mahogany hair draped over her raised shoulders. Her sea-green eyes sparkled. How could he have forgotten how enchanting her beauty was? “Yes.” Garrett felt such a tug at his heart he dared not move. She looked so innocent with sleep in her eyes, but she sounded so desirable with it in her voice. “I’ll fix you some herb tea. It will help.” She rose to fetch the kettle. “No. I want no tea.” His heartbeat hammered in his ears. His breath was ragged. How could she make him
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want her so desperately when he was so angry at her stubbornness? “So beautiful,” he whispered as he came to her and let the tresses of her hair flow through his fingers. His lips brushed hers. She leaned into him as if incapable of halting the motion. “This is wrong,” she whispered as her hands curled in his hair. “This is wrong,” she murmured before her lips parted to coax more from his kiss. “This is wrong,” she said again, and then sighed, surrendering to the need, the desire and the passion. Even as his mind admitted it was wrong, his heart told him it was right. Fire coursed through his veins. Arlana, his one true love, ignited in his arms. He would show her what words could never express. As Logan lay sleeping a few feet away, Garrett carried her to the pallet on which she had slept. In the glow of the firelight, they silently disrobed. Though he ached for a quick release, he took his time exploring her body as she explored his. He swallowed her cries with urgent kisses as he took immense pleasure in her responsiveness. Slowly and thoroughly, he loved her. She arched into him, driving him crazy with her writhing until she wilted, pliant in his arms. Again, he urged her to the edge. When at last he slid inside her, it was she who swallowed his gasp of pleasure. Complete at last. They rose slowly over the sleeping earth and soared together until finally they collapsed, sated, onto her bed. Together they slept contently in each other’s arms. **** Garrett woke to see Logan sipping tea while Arlana stirred a pot over the fire. The scent of sweet porridge evoked a loud grumble from the prince’s belly. The rumble echoed in the silent room. The lack of conversation suggested a tension he could see on Arlana’s face. The bright color in her cheeks told him she felt embarrassed this morning. He prayed she had no regrets. Garrett had hoped Logan slept through the activities of the previous night, but the change in Garrett’s sleeping arrangements would be hard for his friend to overlook. The Prince trusted Logan had held his tongue this morning. Arlana served the meal before anyone said so much as “Good morning.” “We should be on our way soon,” Logan said as he rose from the table and went outside without so much as a backward glance. “I’ll be back for you when it is safe,” Garrett told Arlana as she packed some food for
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their journey. “Garrett, lust is not the same as love,” she stated calmly. “What?” “Nothing has changed.” “Unbelievable!” Garrett yelled. “You are the most aggravating woman I have ever met!” He ran his fingers through his untidy hair. Logan came to the doorway. “Is everything all right?” he asked, obviously alarmed by his friend’s loud voice. “I spent two agonizing weeks coming to terms with the fact that I’m in love with her, and she throws it back in my face at every turn,” Garrett told Logan while pointing an accusatory finger at Arlana. He’d showed her the strength and depth of his love last night, hadn’t he? How could she question his feelings now? He rounded on her and glared into her angry, sea-green eyes. He was seething and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d had his say. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear you were nearly killed while I was gone? I thought my heart would stop.” His voice shook with the memory of the fear and helplessness. “I’m not going to lose you.” He gripped her upper arms firmly and gave her a shake. “I love you, and I intend to marry you. If I must, I will order it!” he roared. She smiled at him. “I love you, too. Why couldn’t you have told me all this yesterday?” He uttered every curse he could think of until Arlana placed her soft, strong hands on either side of his face, dragging him under with a slow, sensuous kiss. He had never felt a kiss all the way to his toes before. Garrett only surfaced when he felt a sharp slap on his back. “Now that it’s all settled, we should go.” Logan shouldered Garrett out of his way and took the satchel of food Arlana offered. “Good-bye, sweet Arlana,” he whispered as he embraced her. “Take care, Sir Logan. You will be in my prayers.” Arlana kissed his cheek. “Watch over my heart.” Logan nodded and left. “I will return for you soon, my love.” Garrett brushed a kiss across her cheek.
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Garrett glanced back to see Arlana waving from the window of the cottage. Joy and heartache mingled inside him. She belonged to him, heart and soul, but he must leave her to secure their kingdom and their future. “You’re far too happy for a man about to go to war,” Logan observed. Garrett grinned as joy won out. “Am I?” Logan rolled his eyes. “I believe you’ll be good for each other, if you don’t kill each other first.” He chuckled. Garrett thought silently for a few moments. “She is beautiful, brave, smart, caring, exasperating and infuriating.” “At least you have the last two characteristics in common,” Logan commented before he spurred his horse to a gallop. His laughter echoed after him. Just before dusk, they arrived at Castle Leighton. But their homecoming was short-lived. The very next day, enemy troops began to move. Garrett and Logan led their army against the treacherous Sir Edward and his horde of barbarians.
Chapter 8 Garrett rode at a steady pace as he and Logan led the army of Leighton home. It had taken little more than a month to drive the enemy from Leighton soil and to secure the borders. The prince had learned that warriors with no clear objective do not fight with their hearts. Many prisoners confirmed Sir Edward served as the leader of the invaders. Garrett had searched for Edward among the dead and the captured, to no avail. It galled him that Edward still walked free. Garrett drew to a halt at a crossroad. One way led to the castle, the other to the sea. “Godspeed, my friend.” Logan saluted and turned toward home. Garrett nodded. He was anxious to reach Arlana. It would be a short ride from here if he rode hard, and he did. The cottage looked dark and deserted as he approached. Garrett rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. A sense of foreboding washed over him. The sun would set soon, and a chill had seeped into the salty air. He moved cautiously as he drew nearer. No smoke came from the chimney. The door stood ajar. Dread crept up his spine as he dismounted and entered the cottage with his sword drawn. He found the room in disarray, chairs knocked over, pottery broken. “Arlana!” he called for her, but he knew she wasn’t there. He felt her absence in his heart. Garrett searched the cottage quickly, looking for any clue that might lead him to her. He found a spot of dried blood on the floor. Behind the house he discovered the body of a man he had seen at the castle but didn’t know by name. The body was cool but not yet cold. A knot tightened in Prince Garrett’s gut. Only years of war experience kept him from
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sinking to his knees in despair. She was gone, his sweet, little sorceress. Where? Why? He had to think clearly. The fear and anguish in his chest gave way to fury and hatred. He would find the bastards who took her and make them pay! With a clarity borne of desperation, he tried to deduce what had happened. She’d been here, a struggle was apparent. It must have been Arlana who’d slain the man outside since he had sent no one to guard her, a mistake for which he’d never forgive himself. She was still alive. There would be no benefit in taking her dead body. Where? Most likely not toward the castle, too many soldiers were traveling those roads. He sat at the table. Who? Edward’s thin face came to mind. The fact that Edward had evaded death or capture proved one thing. The traitor possessed cunning that he himself had underestimated. If Arlana’s fate did indeed rest in Edward’s hand, what did it mean? **** The horse Arlana rode plodded along with a slow, unsteady gait. Forced to ride sidesaddle with her hands bound behind her, Arlana struggled to keep her seat. She glared at Sir Edward’s back. The faithless cur had hidden in her cottage while she was picking wild berries. When she’d returned, his band of traitors had attacked. In her attempt to escape, she’d slain a man. His blood was on her hands. A tear slid down her cheek. No. She couldn’t allow remorse to cloud her mind. She needed to focus, to find a way to escape. Arlana noted the path began a steeper climb. They traveled somewhere in the shallow mountains beyond Leighton’s borders. The tall pines became more sparse, but their scent still hung in the air. It felt familiar and horribly sad. “Where are you taking me?” Arlana demanded. “To where it began,” Edward told her in a menacing tone. “You will restore Cadmar, and I will have my throne.” The crazed look in Edward’s eyes told Arlana to be careful. She attempted to free her hands. The effort left her wrists raw and still tightly bound. Her arm throbbed where the dead man’s blade had sliced into her flesh. No one would come for her. No one knew she was in peril. But she had to survive, for Garrett and for their child.
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She closed her eyes and relaxed as best she could on the ungainly horse. The vision came with startling clarity. Garrett sat at the small cottage table. His hands covered his face as if in anguish. Her heart ached for him. “Garrett, my love, hear me.” “Arlana? Where are you?” Garrett leaped up. She watched Garrett’s panicked search. He whirled around staring into the empty cottage. “I am not there. You hear my thoughts.” Garrett sat hard on the kitchen chair. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’ve gone mad,” he said to himself. “No, you must believe. You must trust in me, in my powers.” He nodded. “Where are you?” “Sir Edward and three of his men are taking me up a mountain path. ‘Tis steep and narrow.” “What direction? How long have you been traveling?” Garrett whispered. Edward yanked on Arlana’s horse’s lead. She yelped as the horse jolted from the harsh tug. “If you wish me to stay atop this mount, either slow your pace or untie my hands.” Edward handed the lead to a guard and waited for Arlana’s horse to walk even with his. He glared into her eyes. “Watch your tone, witch. Soon I will be your king.” “Never! You will never be my king.” He struck her across the face. She felt the sting color her cheek. Her eyes watered. A cruel smile of satisfaction twisted Edward’s lips. “Perhaps you’re right, you may not live to see me crowned.” He urged his horse to the lead again. Bastard. Arlana fought to control her fear and her despair. Oh, Garrett, I need you. Her prince rode down the trail from the cottage. His head turned side to side, scanning the area. “Arlana, answer me damn it!” Garrett yelled into the trees. “I’m here.” “Thank God. I thought I’d lost you. Help me find you. What do you see?” “We travel toward the setting sun. Nearly an hour has passed, but I have complained much and slowed their pace. See what I see.” She looked around her putting the images into her mind. She showed him the rocks and
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trees, Sir Edward and another man ahead of her. She turned to get an image of the two men behind her. As she looked, she realized it could be any of the many mountain passes. “I am coming,” Garrett whispered. “How? How can you tell where I am?” “You gave me a direction. I can ride until I reach the mountain trails, then I will track you. You have to believe in me now.” “I believe in you, my prince. I know you will find me.” She meant it, and saw him smile as he raced his steed toward the mountains, his golden hair waving in the wind. Her heart felt lighter than it had since last they met. “Speak to me, Arlana, guide me.” “It feels as though I’ve been here before, as a child.” She had put the sad thoughts out of her mind, but now she needed them. “A fire lit the sky that night, a great storm like no other before or since.” Arlana recalled Edward’s words. Memories flooded her, those locked away fifteen years ago—her mother, Cadmar, the cave. “He takes me to the eye of the storm where Cadmar lost his humanity.” “Does such a place even exist? Minstrels sing of the valley between the twin peaks, but I’ve never seen such a place.” “It exists.” Garrett continued to ride hard. Arlana stayed with him, in his head. The sun had set when he neared the mountains, but a full moon rose to take its place. “Which path, Arlana?” he asked as he dismounted to study yet another crossroads. “I’m not sure.” Here, where the trees were not heavy, she watched him bend to study the ground. He followed the main road until he stopped at a broken branch at the mouth of a mountain path. “I see hoof prints.” Arlana sighed in relief. She watched him place his hand in the hoof prints, counting, assessing. He poked a stick into a dung pile. He quickly remounted. “I am coming for you.” Though the trail was rough, Garrett pushed his mount to climb quickly. “I should reach you within the half hour. Stay strong a little longer.”
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Her horse suddenly stopped, and her eyes flew open. The trail ended at the base of a cliff. A crevice etched in the side of the mountain by a long dead stream gaped in front of them. Arlana struggled to remember the place clearly. She had walked the path with her mother. It was a happy childhood memory, but the place now held feelings of deep sorrow and violent evil. Sir Edward ordered his men to dismount. “We continue on foot. I hope you enjoyed your rest, witch,” he said as he yanked Arlana from her horse. “You, stay with the horses,” Edward directed one of the men. The man looked relieved. Apparently even his simple mind could feel the evil that lay ahead. Arlana quickly sent Garrett a message. “Follow the trail that leads to the highest peak. You will see a footpath through the rock when the trail ends at the cliff.” Edward pushed her into the dark cavern. Tall walls on either side blocked the moon and the breeze, leaving only shadow and stagnant air. With her hands still bound behind her, Arlana struggled to maintain her balance on the rugged terrain. She found the energy and concentration needed to keep the telepathic connection impossible to maintain. Garrett’s voice was lost to her. Edward pulled her roughly ahead while his men followed. After a difficult trek through the creek bed, the trail opened to a dead sea. The plateau. “Surely this place is enchanted,” one of the men whispered as they entered the rounded plane. Moonlight reflected off the quartz and iron-pyrite in the tall rock walls. The light did an eerie, magical dance on the ground. The lake would have seemed small when it was alive but now, empty, it appeared larger than a jousting field. With a vicious shove, Sir Edward sent Arlana sprawling to the ground. “Restore him!” Edward demanded, his sadistic eyes boring into her. “What? I don’t understand.” Arlana’s voice cracked with fear. “I know you have powers. Enough even, to trap Cadmar and hinder my plan. Now my patience is wearing thin.” At Arlana’s perplexed stare, he grew violent. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her to her knees. “Do as I say or die a slow and painful death.” He growled. “Cadmar is dead. I cannot bring him back,” Arlana whispered. “Lies!” Edward roared. “I have seen Lord Cadmar. It was I who brought him what he
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needed to regain his power. It was I who gave him a lord’s body so he could inspire my army.” Arlana trembled with fear. Edward laughed. “You are frightened, child?” he asked with mock kindness. “Perhaps you thought you had won when you managed to keep Cadmar from taking Malcolm’s body. Foolish girl, he was never the true enemy.” He grasped Arlana’s chin in his cupped hand and forced her to rise. “You, little sorceress, banished the wrong man.” His fingers traced the low neckline of her simple peasant dress, his beady eyes followed his hand. “Perhaps you would be a more companionable ally.” Revulsion swirled in her belly. Arlana spat into Edward’s face. His hand clamped around her throat. “Alas, you would not be a willing ally, would you?” He tightened his grip. “You will now undo your mistake and free Cadmar from wherever you sent him.” Arlana struggled to breathe. Her hands were still bound at her back. She could not fight him. She could not speak. Edward tutted. “Now, don’t lie to me. I know he’s not dead. No one, not even you, little witch, can kill what is already dead.” Arlana nodded, and Edward released his strangle hold. She gasped for breath and prayed for courage. “I will do as you ask.” She knew it was an impossible task, but it would allow her to stall for time. “I will need my hands.” Edward signaled for one of his men to free her. “Mind, I will be watching you. If you cross me, you will die.” I need time, Arlana thought as she rubbed her sore wrists. “I’ll need a willow branch,” she told Edward on impulse. He scowled, but sent a man to fetch the branch. “It must be green,” Arlana added for effect. “Now, I must concentrate.” She sat on the cool dirt and closed her eyes. Where was Garrett? Could she find him again? “Garrett, hear me. Where are you?” Garrett jumped. “I am in the narrow riverbed passage through the mountains,” he spoke quietly. “No! A man is there with the horses.”
Nancy Wald
Life’s Breath
“We met. Have no fear.” But she did have fear. She’d just sent another man straight into Garrett’s path. “Hide! Another man approaches.” She saw Garrett find a crevice in the rock wall. Moments later the soldier came. In the darkness of the ravine she could barely make out the glint of swords clashing. She prayed Garrett’s sight was better than her vision. She prayed for Garrett’s life. Edward yanked Arlana’s injured arm and pulled her to her feet. Pain seared through her. Her vision shattered. “You!” Edward yelled at her. “What treachery is this?” The sounds of battle had not penetrated Arlana’s trance. Her mind contained only Garrett’s thoughts and visions of him. “I know not what you mean,” she responded weakly. Before she could say more Edward grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. He held a dagger to her throat and watched the mouth of the dark passageway. Suddenly, Garrett burst from the passage. The final soldier hurried to engage him. “My prince, how fortunate ‘tis you who have found us,” the soldier goaded Garrett. “Darius. You were always a lout. I am not surprised to find you are a traitor as well.” Garrett circled, his eyes fixed on his opponent. Arlana shuddered in Edward’s grasp. “Afraid for the prince?” Edward rasped in her ear. “I will enjoy watching the spoiled son of a self-righteous king die a bloody death.” “He will not die,” Arlana said and prayed she was right. She watched as Garrett thrust, parried and wheeled around. Though Darius was an able swordsman he seemed no match for the prince’s skill. Garrett thrust again, piercing his enemy’s chest. Edward’s grip tightened. “Damn fool,” he muttered. The dagger he held now pressed against her skin. “Drop your sword or the girl dies.” “No, don’t…” Arlana began, but her captor’s knife nicked her throat, and she felt a trickle of blood slowly curve down her neck. “Quiet, or I’ll slit your throat and rule without Cadmar’s aid,” Edward spat. Garrett held his blade at his side. “The war is over. Your army is defeated. You have nothing to gain. Release her, and I’ll let you live.”
Nancy Wald
Life’s Breath
“You deceitful fool. Your lies and tricks will not save this wench. Give me your weapon,” Edward snarled at the prince. Garrett made no move to comply. “Give me your sword, and I will release her. She is of no use to me any more,” Edward bargained. Arlana looked into Garrett’s face. His eyes flashed with fury. His jaw clenched. With his sword laid across his open hands, Garrett stepped forward. As Sir Edward lowered his head to focus on the glistening blade still stained with his soldiers’ blood, Arlana felt his grip loosen. The dagger lowered. Edward reached for the sword, and Garrett grabbed her with a harsh tug. The switch was complete. She was in Garrett’s arms, and Edward held Garrett’s sword. Edward sheathed his dagger and swung Garrett’s sword in front of him. The prince pushed Arlana behind him to face the crazed traitor. “Foolish boy,” Edward gloated. “You should never let a woman come between you and your weapon. Now you will die for your stupidity.” Behind Garrett, Arlana held her breath. Now they had no weapon with which to defend themselves. Suddenly, Edward lunged at Garrett’s heart. The sword swerved of its own volition before it could pierce the prince’s flesh. Arlana looked at each of the men. Edward’s beady eyes bulged as he pulled back. Garrett turned to glance at Arlana, his mouth gaping. She turned her head to stare at the sword in Edward’s hand. “What happened?” Garrett whispered. “The sword is enchanted. It serves only you and protects only you. I did not know how faithfully,” Arlana answered quietly, in awe of her own spell. Garrett pushed Arlana away and smiled at Edward. “Care to try again?” Edward scowled. “You will pay with your life for this trickery.” He lunged with the full force of his body. Garrett moved aside as the blade again changed course. Edward landed face down on the rock floor. The prince stepped on the blade before Edward could lift it. Garrett retrieved his sword and turned to Lady Arlana, leaving Edward sniveling on the ground.
Nancy Wald
Life’s Breath
“Are you all right?” “I am now.” Garrett lifted her arm to study her injury. From the corner of her eye, Arlana saw the flash of moonlight reflecting off polished steel. She screamed as Edward’s dagger slashed into Garrett’s side. The prince gasped in pain, but instinctively spun around in defense and thrust his blade into Edward’s unprotected body. Death came instantly. Edward’s life’s breath mixed with the air and all was quiet. Garrett staggered and leaned heavily on Arlana. “No! Garrett, please don’t die. I don’t want to go on without you.” He grimaced with pain as he turned to face her. His lips curled into what looked like a pained smile. “I have no intention of dying and missing my wedding night.” Heat rose to Arlana’s cheeks. She lifted Garrett’s tunic to look at the wound. Blood oozed from a short gash in his side. It looked ugly, but shallow. “I need to give this a proper cleaning and some ointment to stave off infection, but it should heal well enough.” She ripped a band of cloth from her skirt and bound the cut. “You have a gentle touch,” Garrett said, before he turned her to inspect the cut on her arm. He tore a strip from his own clothes and tied it around her injury. When he finished, Arlana fell into his embrace, weeping. The strain of worry and fear had left her tired and weak. Their lips met in a warm, restoring kiss. The truth and strength of his devotion glowed in his eyes, and Arlana knew she would never again doubt his love. “Let’s go home,” Garrett suggested. He took her hand in his, and they walked through the crevasses in the wall, leaving behind the stench of death that lingered in the stagnant air of the eerie plateau. Only one question remained for Arlana. Could the prince marry the sorceress? “Your Highness,” Arlana began. “Garrett,” the prince interrupted. “Please, at least when we are alone. After all, I will soon be your husband.” He squeezed her hand. Darkness had settled over the rough path, and they made their way slowly toward the horses. Arlana was glad of the easy pace as she thought carefully how to ask her question. “I agreed to marry you, and if you still wish it, I shall. But you must consider what I am and who you are.”
Nancy Wald
Life’s Breath
Arlana waited for his response. In the shadows she could not see his face, but he kept her hand firmly in his. Finally he said, “I am Garrett, and you are Arlana. That is all that I need to know.” “Sire…Garrett, you must realize the difficulties surrounding such a union.” “Why? Do you intend to turn me into a toad should I displease you?” She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure she heard laughter in his voice. “This is not a joke. Your subjects will expect you to marry a proper lady, one with refinement and grace, not a bumbling sorceress.” Now he did laugh—heartily at first, then more softly as he held his free hand against his wounded side. Arlana narrowed her eyes. His refusal to listen to reason irritated her. “Beware, perhaps I will turn you into a toad yet.” Chuckling, he turned her to face him. He rested his hands on her shoulders. The lack of light hid Garrett’s features, but his large silhouette loomed before her. “Our kingdom will rejoice, for I have chosen a clever and beautiful wife. There may be talk of magic but it will be a magic of sacrifice, loyalty and valor.” “But—” Garrett held up his hand to quiet her objection. “No. No more arguments. Do you love me?” “Yes.” “Do you want to marry me?” “Yes, but—” “Then it will be done. And soon, so you cannot argue with me any more.” He bent over her and kissed her far too quickly. She would have liked to stand there on the dark mountain path drinking in the love and passion of this man. “We’re almost to the horses. Let us hurry home. I need to tell my mother to plan a wedding.”
Epilogue Garrett paced in the corridor outside the bedchambers he and Arlana shared. After a quick month of planning they’d married, and for six months they’d enjoyed life as husband and wife. During that time, true peace had settled upon the faithful Kingdom of Leighton. An anguished cry broke the peace of this early morn. “In the name of God, what are they doing in there?” Garrett roared. “Calm down, son. Childbirth is a difficult business,” King Malcolm reasoned. Garrett looked to Logan for more reassurance but found none. Logan’s pale face and worried eyes made Garrett’s stomach knot. Malcolm laid a hand on the expectant father’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It will be over soon.” Another loud scream took the confidence out of the king’s eyes. Garrett could stand it no longer. He burst into the room and rushed to Arlana’s side. “My Lord!” the queen’s lady-in-waiting exclaimed. “You should not be in here.” “I want him to stay.” Arlana’s voice was soft but strong. Sir Baldwin was present in his capacity as royal physician, along with the queen and her lady-in-waiting. “Hold my hand.” Arlana reached for Garrett as another contraction came over her. “Push now,” Baldwin instructed. “Ahhh!” Several screams later, Baldwin placed the new prince of Leighton at his mother’s breast. Garrett smiled at his wife with tears in his eyes. “He’s beautiful. I’m so proud of you, Arlana.” This child, conceived in love, was the miracle that had saved his Arlana’s life. Garrett could not imagine a happier, more magical moment. “We will call him Abel, the Hebrew word for breath of life.”
ABOUT NANCY WALD http://www.lyricalpress.com/nancy_wald.html Nancy’s reading habits changed as her children developed new interests. Instead of Winnie the Pooh, she started reading Harry Potter to them at night. Always a romance reader, she developed a love for paranormal romance. When work and her four children become too “real” for Nancy Wald, she escapes into a world of mystical romance. In addition to writing, Nancy works for an Area Education Agency. Like most parents, she spends a lot of time chauffeuring her kids (not really a hobby). She enjoys reading, camping and family adventures. Nancy and her husband still read to their children every night. Reader email:
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