Crystal Moon (6 page)

grinned, “those who will curse the woman because they desire

to be where she is.”

Kyne’s expression changed from puzzlement to indignation.

“I’ll not...” He whirled away from Graham’s mocking smile

and met her gaze. Color stained his cheeks. Did he care what

she might think of the arrangement? Apparently, yes. What did

she think? Goose bumps blossomed over her body.

“I’ll see to giving the men their instructions.” Graham turned

and walked away, leaving her alone with Kyne.

She stared at him, but kept her expression neutral.

“I suggest you refrain from comment or protest. My temper

is none too even at the moment. You have no choice in

accommodation. If the castle boasted a dungeon, I’d as soon

house you there, but my father’s ancestors didn’t believe in

imprisoning their enemies beneath their feet. As Graham said,

the castle is fair to bursting, and I’m not so foolish as to leave

you unguarded.”

“I never supposed you were. However, I had no intention

of protesting.” At his side she would be safe and could learn

more about him, but.... “Your plan is sound, though it does have

its flaws. You will protect me from your people by posing as

my...lover.” She hesitated on the word. He thought her

dangerous. Let him wonder how much. Standing in front of

him, she met his glare. “But who will protect me from you?

And...” she cocked her head to one side and gave him a small

smile, “who will protect you from me?”

She knew it foolish to deliberately taunt him, but his shocked

look made it worth the risk.

***

Kyne kept remembering the provocative sway of the

woman’s hips and her saucy words. Did she deliberately taunt

him? Had she discerned his desire for her and now attempted

to set spark to kindling? Which was she, innocent or wanton?

Kyne had bitten his lip to keep from calling her back and

demanding an answer.

As they approached, the blue stone of Castle Vareck

shimmered in the late afternoon sun, appearing whole and

formidable in the distance. Closer in, the broken ramparts and

crumbling walls became apparent. Though Kyne had repaired

and rebuilt what he could of the ancient structure, he knew

only the castle’s isolated and unknown location prevented

DiSanti from attempting to capture it.

Generations past, his ancestors had built the castle to block

the one accessible pass through the mountain from a neighboring

enemy. Then over a hundred years before a tremor shook the

mountain and blocked that pass, rendering the fortress

unnecessary as well as nearly unreachable.

Now this crumbling edifice served as the last stronghold of

a desperate people, a people pushed to the edge by an unyielding

despot determined to squeeze the very life from them. More

and more came, forced from their lands by unrelenting taxes.

Faced with being coerced into service in DiSanti’s army, their

families held hostage, many stole away in the night with nothing

but the clothes on their backs.

How many more could he feed and house? Graham was

right, they must make their move before winter set in or face

starvation when snow blocked the trails.

Kyne felt the woman straighten behind him and catch her

breath.

“Beautiful,” she whispered in awe. “It glows like it’s made

of blue crystal.”

Built of the same blue stone as Vareck Castle, Kyne’s family

home in the Shula Valley had been modeled after the stronghold.

A place of peace, love and laughter for generations, now only

rubble remained, along with broken dreams and ghosts who

cried out for vengeance.

Justice, my son. Not vengeance, his father’s voice echoed

in his mind. Justice or vengeance, it mattered not. Kyne vowed

to make DiSanti pay for his treachery.

In the castle courtyard people crowded around them as

Kyne dismounted. Old men, women and children, this ragtag

army looked to him to topple the current regime and set them

free. Would he lead them to freedom or to death? Despair

threatened to overwhelm him.

Graham pushed his way to Kyne’s side. “Rul Cathor has

come a long way. Let him refresh himself and have last meal

before you descend like locusts upon him. He’ll see to your

needs later. Be gone.”

“Father! Father!” A child’s high, piping voice broke through

the babble as the crowd dispersed.

Kyne turned, and a small body catapulted into his arms.

The little girl showered his face and neck with moist, sticky

kisses. Gloom faded.

“I missed you so.” On the last word a series of hoarse

coughs racked the child’s thin body. When they eased, she

squeezed him tight and began to squirm in his embrace.

Reluctantly, Kyne released her. Like a whirlwind, the five

annum old Zoa rarely stayed in one place for more than a few

moments. It was as if she knew her life would be short, and

she wanted to experience everything before it ended.

She wrapped her arms around Hakan’s leg. “I missed you

too.”

The big beast stood rock still as she pulled his head down

and planted a kiss on his nose. She looked up and spotted the

woman. “Who is she?” A hint of hostility crept into her voice.

Kyne reached up and lifted the woman off Hakan. She

stood silently at his side, her gaze on Zoa. “A friend.” The

words stuck in his throat.

Zoa put her fisted hands against her hips and glared at

Kyne. “You don’t have lady friends. Etam said you’re a monk,

and monks don’t have lady friends.” She stuck out her lower

lip in an “I-told-you-so” way.

Kyne smiled at the girl’s vehemence. Lately the ten annum

old boy, Etam, had become Zoa’s hero. She followed the brash

boy around, imitating his walk, his talk and spouting his words

as gospel, much to Etam’s chagrin and often to Kyne’s

embarrassment when she repeated something inappropriate.

Her belligerent stance dissolved as another coughing spell

took her. When it ended she turned her frown on the woman.

“What’s your name?”

The woman knelt in front of Zoa. “Sianna.”

“Sianna?” Kyne asked. “Daughter of Light? Hardly an

appropriate name for...” He caught himself. Laila. Sianna.

Whatever her name, she was DiSanti’s daughter. “It matters

not what you call yourself. It doesn’t change who you are.”

Sianna refused to raise her gaze to him. “It’s what my

friends call me. What do your friends call you?” she asked the

little girl.

Confusion replaced Zoa’s glare. Her eyes searched Sianna’s

face for what seemed a long time, then she smiled. “Zoa.”

“That’s a lovely name.” Sianna held out her hand. “May I

call you Zoa?”

Shyly Zoa put her small, grubby fingers inside Sianna’s

slender ones. “I s’pose.” Her voice was a low wheeze.

Kyne heard the congestion in Zoa’s small lungs, her difficulty

in breathing, her constant struggle to pull in enough air.

“Thank you, Zoa.”

“Do you want to see my kitties?” Zoa asked.

Amazement washed over Kyne. Only a select few were

allowed to see Zoa’s menagerie. She never warmed to

strangers. Too much pain and deceit in her young life had killed

in her the easy trust most children had.

Before Sianna could answer, Kyne said, “Not now, poppet.

Where’s Grenna?” He searched the thinning crowd for sight

of Zoa’s plump nanny. Not seeing the motherly Grenna

anywhere, he swept Zoa into his arms and handed her to

Graham. “Return this little minx to her jailer to be fed, bathed

and put to bed.”

“My pleasure, Rul Cathor,” Graham said. “Being a lady’s

maid has always been my greatest ambition.”

Zoa giggled and clung to Graham’s broad chest. She

appeared heartbreakingly tiny and fragile in the man’s grip.

Swinging the girl onto his shoulders, Graham strode away. His

low, teasing tones and Zoa’s laughter left Kyne with a strange

ache of jealousy. With him, Zoa seldom laughed.

“She loves you with every fiber of her small being.”

Startled, Kyne looked down at the woman still kneeling at

his feet. “I know.”

With an unconscious grace, she rose and stood before him,

her head barely reaching his shoulder. “Where is Zoa’s mother,

your wife? Why doesn’t she greet you?”

Kyne’s step faltered, then he moved on. “I have no life-

mate. Zoa’s mother is dead. As is her father and her family.”

Sianna hurried after him. “But she called you father?”

“Many children here call me father.” But only Zoa claimed

a large piece of his heart.

“I see.”

“Do you? I think not.” Though he tried to deny the title,

as Rul Cathor he was father to all his people. They looked to

him for strength.

“The child is sick?” Sianna asked.

“The child is dying. When her father was conscripted into

DiSanti’s army, Zoa and her mother were forced to work the

nika fields to survive. Her mother died last planting season, and

her father was killed trying to desert.”

“No.”

Kyne heard the shock and sorrow in Sianna’s words.

“Has she been to a healer?”

“Yes. There is nothing to be done. Zoa’s lungs are damaged

beyond repair. The thin mountain air is destroying her ability to

breathe. Our healer tells me Zoa will not live through the winter.”

The words came out of him cold and stiff, like Zoa’s small body

would soon be.

Sianna’s fingers dug into his arm. “Surely you’ve sought

another healer? Let me care for her. I studied the healing arts.”

“I wouldn’t trust you to care for my quinar.” Wielding his

words like a sword, he cut off her offer of assistance, but her

stricken look turned the blade back on himself.

She persisted. “What of the valetudinarian of the Sisters of

Light?”

He shook off her hand and turned to face her. “What of

them? The hospital is in an area controlled by your father’s

forces.”

“The Sisters care for all regardless of religion, politics or

wealth.”

“Perhaps, but to get to the Sisters, one must travel through

Dramon, and to do that, permits are needed. Permits only your

father and his minions can grant. I find it unlikely he would give

me or one of mine free passage.”

“My father wouldn’t stop you from seeking help for a sick

child.” The quaver in her voice turned the statement to a

question.

Her expressive blue eyes begged him to deny her father’s

evil, and for a brief second Kyne found himself wanting to do

so. She played the part of the innocent too well. She almost

shook his belief in her guilt—almost.

“We’re both aware of exactly who your father is and what

he’s capable of.” He pushed her through the castle door into

the great hall.

***

Overwhelmed by the din, Sianna cringed into Kyne. People

crowded the great hall, each hurrying about his own task. Voices

echoed off the rough stone walls and swirled upward. Unlike

the calm order of the valetudinarian or even the strict protocol

of her father’s castle, here chaos ruled. Taking a deep breath,

she struggled to block the emotions slamming into her from all

sides.

A myriad of odors assaulted her—smoke, unwashed bodies,

hound, rancid food, and charred meat. Her nose wrinkled in

disgust. How could people live like this? Kyne’s hand at her

back urged her forward.

Many in the hall had some manner of injury or illness.

Others, though appearing healthy, carried grievous wounds on

their spirits. Kyne’s arrival stirred a flicker of hope in the grief

and despair hanging in the air. The people watched as he made

his way past them with her in tow.

By the Light, these people needed her as much as they did

Kyne.

Slowly the scene came into focus, details shifting into view.

To the left, a fire blazed in a hearth high enough for a man

to stand upright within and large enough for two men, arms

outstretched to stand side by side. Ages worth of smoke and

grease blackened the walls around the hearthstone. Above the

fire, the carcass of an animal turned on a spit. A young boy

guarded the meat from a hungry-eyed group of gaunt, shaggy-

haired wolve hounds. When one hound, bolder than the others,

lunged for the meat, the boy whacked the animal on the snout.

The hound bared its teeth, then slunk away.

Another hound scrounged through the musty rushes covering

the floor. A sharp squeak rewarded his effort. Gripping his furry

prize, the hound growled at the others when they tried to share

in his meager meal.

“Each day there are more of them,” Kyne said. “I’m gone

but a tenday and their numbers double.”

Though he spoke aloud, Sianna knew he didn’t speak to

her. The weariness in his voice tugged at her heart, making her

long to give him ease. Why, when she could not sense his

emotions, did she feel such a connection with this man?

They made their way across the hall, up the stairs and

down a shadowy hallway. Only one crystal lamp lit the dim

corridor. Kyne stopped in front of a closed door. Pushing it