A Soul for Vengeance (14 page)

“I expect nothing less from you.”

So had other women, but it didn’t necessarily mean he gave it to them. He grabbed a stick and carved random lines into the snow with it. “I got bored.”

She stopped rubbing her hands. “You decided to risk your life because you were bored?”

“Not exactly.” He threw the stick deeper into the woods. “I suppose you can say I got tired of being useless.”

“You weren’t being useless, Kell. You were recuperating from your imprisonment and learning about everything that had happened while you were gone so you could take command.”

Learning would be an understatement. He’d hungered for any scrap of information he could get about the Triumvirate, the three Thallian leaders who control Ranello. Barsaulus was the general in the group, commanding the armies of soldiers who’d swept through the kingdom like a storm. Decindra was the witch, her powers strong enough to rival any mage he’d met so far. And Ermane was a mixture of mage and general, the mastermind behind the invasion and the machines they’d used to conquer the Ranellians. Each alone was a formidable opponent. Together, they appeared on the surface to be invincible. If he wanted to defeat them, he needed to discover their weaknesses.

“Yes, but now, I want to get involved, to go out into the kingdom and see where my people are, to take part in something to help them.”

“You were, even though you don’t realize it.” She directed his face toward hers. “Do you have any idea how much the people here loved and respected you? How they held on to hope that you were still alive and would come back to free them? And now that you are home, how word of your return keeps them going through these cold, hungry winter days?”

He jerked his chin free from her fingers. “What good is a prince who hides behind walls and is too fearful to bloody up his hands in the name of freedom?”

A gasp broke free from her lips, followed by a slow smile. “I’m beginning to think you know more about this ruling business that any of us gives you credit for.”

“I know people underestimate me for a number of reasons—I’m the third son, born under questionable circumstances to my father’s second wife, who left this kingdom to chase after a witch—I’ve heard them all.” He paused, letting each of the doubts roll through him before shrugging them off. The last one, however, was the hardest. He still missed Arden, missed her smile and her passion for life, but as he swallowed past the lump in his throat caused by the memory of their affair, he accepted the peace that followed. His heart was healing, and he was grateful for the experience of knowing her.

“But they forget that my father was constantly teaching me what it meant to be a good ruler, and I’m finding his advice more precious with each passing day.” He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, soaking up the magic forged in the metal. “It’s time I start putting their doubts to rest, starting with their worries that I’m too weak to engage in combat.”

“This isn’t true combat, Kell. Ideally, we hit them so fast they’re all dead before they can fight back.”

“If your plan works.”

She gave him a playful shove. “Of course it will work. I’ve got these raids down to an art.”

“What makes you so certain this is where the wagon will be today?”

“Because we have spies located throughout the kingdom. I know both from reports at the border and from Trivinus when this wagon entered Ranello, what it’s carrying, and where it’s going.”

He peered over his shoulder at the immaculate road. “And you know for certain it will be here today?”

“More or less.”

“I’m not freezing my nuts off for more or less, Zara.”

Parros cleared his throat from several yards up the road. “Will you please watch your language around the lady?”

The old knight’s rebuke made his cheeks burn, and he offered a mumbled apology to her. “What I meant to say is that we’re all exposed to the elements right here, and I’m curious to know how you came to the conclusion to choose this very spot for our ambush.”

“First off, we’re in a natural spot to provide cover.” She pointed to the thick fir trees and gray boulders that lined the road from Trivinus. “Secondly, I know when the wagon passed through various checkpoints, and I was able to calculate its speed to estimate it would be passing right here this afternoon.” She chewed her lip before adding, “Of course, there are always a few variables to an ideal situation.”

“Such as you might be off by a day?”

She nodded. “They could be late because of weather or illness, but I try to take that into account when I plan these attacks. However, if I’m off by a day, we’ll just wait here until they come through tomorrow.”

“And what if you’ve already missed them?”

She laughed, her cockiness returning. “Impossible. We were traveling on the same road and would’ve passed them by now.”

It sounded good enough for now, so he left the conversation drift into silence until she said softly, “You shouldn’t worry about what they say, Kell. Your actions will speak for themselves.”

“Maybe, but it’s time I start acting instead of being acted upon, especially if what Bynn was telling me about Fermo is true.”

The House of Fermo had ruled Ranello for centuries until his great-grandfather wrestled control from them. King Justello teetered on the brink of madness, and his people lived in fear that they’d be the next ones executed to satisfy his royal whim. Since his family had taken over, the kingdom had prospered, and no one questioned their right to the throne.

Well, no one except the Fermo family, who’d been reduced to a dukedom in the far southwestern corner of the kingdom. The current Duke of Fermo had constantly criticized his father, had questioned Kell’s legitimacy and spread the rumor that the first queen had been killed to make way for Kell’s mother. No doubt, he rejoiced in seeing an opportunity to regain the throne for himself when the Sanguazur family fell and he was missing. Bynn confided in him that there were rumors of Fermo meeting with the Triumvirate to restore the throne to his family.

“And for good reason,” Zara replied, her hands bunching up into fists. “Fermo wants power any way he can get it, and Bynn and I both question his loyalties. There’s a reason why he doesn’t know where our camp is.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Yes, but Bynn’s starting to weaken. He thinks that if Fermo can see you with his own two eyes, he’ll commit to the rebellion.”

“Do we need him?”

Zara nodded, her expression grim. “He’s one of the few nobles in Ranello who wasn’t slaughtered by the Thallians, and he still has a legion of trained soldiers under his command.”

“How did he manage that?”

Her fists tightened. “By surrendering to them without a fight.”

Kell’s gut mimicked her hands, twisting and knotting until the bile of anger rose into his throat. “Then he’s a traitor.”

“You’d think that, but he’s every inch the wily politician.” She released her hands, flexing her fingers. “He claims he did it to protect his people from the devastation the rest of the kingdom had already experienced. His location meant he was the last duchy they invaded, and he knew it was a futile effort to meet them on a battlefield.”

“Do you believe him?”

She pursed her lips together. “Perhaps, though not without adding that Fermo’s primary concern is for himself.”

“Better to sleep with the enemy than fall victim to his sword?”

A nervous laugh rose from her chest. “Something like that.”

She was holding back the truth from him. He was leaning forward to tease out that last bit of information she was concealing from him when the call of a whippoorwill stopped him.

Zara tensed and reached for her crossbow. She pointed to his bow and then held a finger up to her lips.

He nocked an arrow and listened. After a couple of minutes, the snorts of oxen and the creak of wooden wheels filled the silence. He smiled in spite of the situation. Zara had been right after all.

From his perch closer to the sounds, Parros flashed his open palm three times. A whispered curse fell from Zara’s lips, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something was wrong, but he dared not ask what, not with the Thallians practically breathing down their necks.

Zara loaded her crossbow and took a deep breath, waiting just like him for the signal to attack from the scout in the trees above. She met his gaze as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

He nodded and drew his bow back.

The agreed upon signal was an owl’s hoot, similar to the one they used to open the tunnel to the camp. As soon as they heard the first low notes on the breeze, the two men controlling the log tugged on the ropes attached to either side of it, pulling it out of the ditch they’d hidden it in and wedging it against the back tires of the wagon with a low thud. Zara sprung to her feet and fired over the edge of the boulder. Kell followed her example and released his arrow, taking less than a second to take aim at the closest Thallian soldier. He ducked down beside her and reloaded. “How many are there?”

“Parros said fifteen.”

So that’s what the flashing palms meant. He peered over the boulder and fired again, this time waiting long enough to see his arrow embedded in the soldier’s back before ducking back behind the boulder.

Shouts filled the stretch of the road, followed by the scrape of unsheathed swords and cries of pain. Zara rose to fire another bolt from her crossbow and came back down with a string of curses that would make even the most hardened soldier blush. “They have a warlock with them.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Very bad.” She tugged him by the collar to a nearby bush and pointed him out. “Our weapons bounce off of him like he’s surrounded by an invisible wall.”

“Or a shield.” Something he was all too familiar with from his previous battles against mages. None of their weapons would injure him as long as the warlock kept the spell in place.

He glanced down at this sword. Well, there was one exception.

“How many soldiers are left standing?” he asked, a plan forming in his mind as he spoke.

Zara peered over the branches. “I’m counting three more, but that warlock is getting pissed off.”

As though to prove her point, an explosion rocked the ground underneath them, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Worry creased her face, only to ease when Parros gave her an upright thumb. “Our men got away in time,” she explained.

“Good—maybe they’ll be able to keep that warlock distracted long enough.” He drew his sword and crouched behind the bush, waiting for the perfect moment to spring on the Thallians. The warlock had his back to them, busy launching spells toward the opposite tree line and cracking the mighty evergreen trunks in half. “Cover me.”

“What?”

Her sharp-pitched cry vanished as he burst through the bushes with a battle cry of his own, running straight for the warlock. The Thallian mage barely had time to turn around before Kell’s sword pierced the area under his left ribs, angled up toward the heart. He yanked the sword out and delivered another blow to the neck, slicing the head clean off.

“Get the rebel,” one of the Thallian soldiers shouted, charging Kell with this sword drawn.

Kell’s heart skipped several beats as the action around him seemed to slow down to a crawl. He raised his sword to block the blow. A burst of air whizzed by his cheek. Then the soldier slammed to a stop, a crossbow bolt in the center of his forehead.

Kell turned around and found Zara a few feet behind him, firing another shot at the soldier in front of him. She was so focused on hitting his heart that she failed to notice the soldier sneaking out from inside the covered wagon. The sunlight glittered on the razor-sharp edge of his ax as he raised it above his shoulder, his eyes fixed on her.

Kell’s feet were moving before he realized what he was doing. He rammed into her, making her bolt fly off into the sky. A grunt filled his ears. The forest blurred around him in a palette of green, white, and gray. The scent of pine needles filled his nose as they scratched across his face. He wrapped his arms around Zara to protect her from their landing, but instead of hitting the ground, they kept going, rolling down a rock-studded hill for several yards before stopping.

That first breath made his eyes water. The cold air stung the exposed skin along his upper arm, reminding him he was still alive. The sounds of battle above quieted. And when his vision finally came into focus, he saw Zara lying under him, her gray eyes dazed.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, the icy fear that he might have been too late flooding his veins.

The word
no
formed on her lips, but no sound came from them.

His mind screamed for him to get off the poor girl, but something more primitive overruled his rational self. As long as he stayed on top of her, he could shield her from any harm. As long as her breasts rose and fell against his chest with every breath, he knew she was still alive.

But as his fear waned, a new awareness consumed him. Her eyelids lowered so she looked up at him through her lashes like a lover beckoning him closer. Her fingers bunched up his tunic in her fists, pulling him toward her. Her hips shifted ever so slightly, resulting in a subtle friction that made him wish they were both lying this way naked in a warm bed. His gaze dropped to her full lips, coming closer and closer to them.

“You two all right down there?”

Kell bolted from her at the sound of Parros’s voice, shaking the cobwebs of desire from his brain. Sweet Lady Moon, what had he been thinking? They’d just escaped being killed in battle by a hair, and all he wanted to do was screw his best friend’s little sister. He rubbed his face, continuing to reprimand himself for letting his dick get the better of him and promising to find another woman—any woman—to help him get over his sexual drought so he could keep his head on straight around Zara.

Of course, none of the other women had those mesmerizing gray eyes surrounding by thick sooty lashes.

He got to his knees and stretched, sucking in a breath through his teeth when he popped his back. “Why is it every time I rescue a damsel in distress, I’m the one who ends up getting injured?”