Dance of the Gods (18 page)

When he slipped inside her, he watched her face, watched her as they moved together. As everything in him gathered for that final leap, he watched her still.

And at the end of it, he thought he'd simply fallen into her eyes.

T
he guy was a snuggler. He just curved in, body to
body, with an arm hooked around her waist—the way she imagined a kid might hold on to a teddy bear.

Blair just wasn't used to having someone hang on to her at night, and couldn't decide if she liked it or not. On one hand, it was sort of sweet and sexy to wake up with him wrapped all over her. Everything was all warm and soft and cozy.

On the other, if she had to move fast, get to a stake or a sword, he was dead weight.

Maybe she should practice breaking loose, rolling out, reaching the closest weapon. And maybe she should relax. It wasn't as if this was a permanent situation.

It was just…convenient.

And that was a stupid attitude sunk in bullshit, she admitted. If she couldn't be honest inside her own head, her own heart, then where?

They were more than a convenience to each other, more
than compatriots. More, she was afraid, than lovers. At least on her side.

Still, in the light of day she had to be realistic. Whatever it was they were to each other, it couldn't go anywhere. Not beyond this. Cian had spoken the pure truth in Ireland, outside of the Dance. The problems they faced were a lot bigger and more important than one person or their personal needs and wishes. And so their personal needs had to be, by definition, temporary.

After Samhain it would be over. She had to believe they'd win, that was essential, but after the victory dance, the backslapping and champagne toasts there would be hard facts to face.

Larkin—
Lord
Larkin—was a man of Geall. Once this was done and she'd completed the mission, Geall would be for her, in a very real sense, a fairy tale again. Sure, maybe she could hang around for a few days, have that picnic he'd talked about. Bask a little. But in the end, she'd have to go.

She had a birthright, she had a duty, she thought as she touched her fingers to Morrigan's cross. Turning her back on it wasn't an option.

Love, if that's what she was feeling, wasn't enough to win the day. Who knew better?

He was more than she'd ever expected to have, even in the short term, so she couldn't and wouldn't complain about her luck, or her destiny, or the cold will of gods. He accepted her, cared for her, desired her. He had courage, a bone-deep loyalty, and a sense of fun.

She'd never been with a man who possessed all that, and who still looked at her as if she were special.

She thought maybe—it wasn't impossible—he loved her.

For her, Larkin was a kind of personal miracle. He would never walk away from her without a backward glance. He would never shove her aside simply because of what she was. So when they parted, there could be no regrets.

If things were different they might have been able to make a go of it. At least give it a good, solid try. But things weren't different.

Or, more accurately, things were too different.

So they'd have a few weeks. They'd have the journey. And they'd both take something memorable away from it.

She kissed him, a soft and warm press of lips. Then she poked him.

“Wake up.”

His hand slid down her back to rub lazily over her ass.

“Not that way.”

“'S the best way. Feel how firm you are, smooth and firm. I dreamed I was making love with you in an orchard in the high days of summer. For you always smell of tart, green apples. Makes me want to take a good bite of you.”

“Eat enough green apples, you get a bellyache.”

“My belly's iron.” His fingers trailed up and down the back of her thigh. “In the dream there was no one but us two, and the trees ladened with fruit under a sky painted the purest of blues.”

His voice was all sleepy and slurry, she thought. Sexy. “Like paradise? Adam and Eve? An apple got them in big, bad trouble, if memory serves.”

He only smiled. He'd yet to open his eyes. “You look on the dark side of things, but I don't mind that. In the dream, I gave you such pleasure you wept from the joy of it.”

She snorted. “Yeah. In your dreams.”

“And sobbed my name, again and again. Begging me to take you. ‘Use this body,' you pleaded, ‘take it with your strong hands, with your skilled mouth. Pierce it with your mighty—'”

“Okay, you're making that up.”

He opened one eye, and there was such laughter in it her belly quivered in response. “Well, yes, but I'm enjoying it. And see there, you're smiling. That's what I wanted to see when I opened my eyes. Blair's smile.”

Tenderness swamped her. “You're such a goof,” she murmured, and rubbed her hand over his cheek.

“The first part of the dream was true. We should look for the orchard one day.” He closed his eyes again, started to snuggle in.

“Hold on there. Shut-eye's over. We have to get started.”

“In a hurry, are you? Well, all right then.”

He rolled onto her. “I didn't mean—” And slipped into her.

The pleasure was so deep, so easy, that her breath caught even as she laughed. “I should've known your mighty would be up and ready.”

“And always at your service.”

 

A
fter a later start than she'd planned, she pulled
on clothes. “We need to talk about some basics.”

“We'll break our fast in the little dining hall.”

“I've never known you to have a fast to break. And I wasn't talking about food.”

“Oh?” He looked mildly interested as he belted his tunic. “What else then?”

“To get really basic, bathroom facilities. Elimination, hygiene. The chamber pot deal's okay for emergencies, but I'm going to have a problem with it on a regular basis.”

“Ah.” Brows knit, he scratched his head over it. “There are toilets of sorts in the family wing, and latrines for the castle guards. But they're not what you'd be used to.”

“I'll make do. Bathing?”

“The shower.” He said it wistfully. “I miss it already. I can have a tub brought up, and water heated. Or there's the river.”

“Okay, that's a start.” She didn't need plush, Blair thought. She just needed, well, reasonable. “Now we have to talk about training.”

“Let's talk about it over food.” He took her arm, pulling
her from the room so she wouldn't argue while his stomach was rumbling.

 

T
here were spiced apples Larkin seemed particularly
fond of, and chunks of potatoes fried in, she assumed, the fat of the thick slices of ham that accompanied them. The tea was black as pitch, and nearly had the same kick as coffee.

“I miss the Coke as well,” he commented.

“Going to have to suck that one up.”

While the room was smaller than the parlor had been, it was still large enough to fit the big oak table, a couple of enormous servers, and chests she imagined held linens and dishware.

“Does a drawbridge work like a door?” she wondered. “To keep them out,” she explained when Larkin gave her a questioning smile. “Do they need an invitation to come into the castle compound? We'd better deal with that, cover our ass. Hoyt and Glenna should be able to come up with something.”

“We have a few days.”

“If Lilith sticks to the schedule. Either way, we've got our work cut out for us. Organizing, getting civilians transported from the battle area. Hoyt and Glenna might want to try that vamp-free-zone spell, but I have to say, I don't see it working. We're not talking about one house, or even a small settlement.”

She shook her head as she ate. “Too much area, too many variables. And, most likely, a waste of their time and energies.”

“That may be. Moving people to safety is more important. My father and I spoke of it last night, before I came to you. Even now runners are out so the word spreads.”

“Good. We're going to need to put most of our focus on training the troops. You've got guards and—knights, maybe?”

“Aye.”

“They have your basic combat skills, but this is a different matter. Then your general population needs to be prepared to defend themselves. We need to get to work on setting those traps. And I'm going to want a firsthand look at the battleground itself.”

Her mind clicked off its list while she plowed through breakfast. “We're going to need to set up multiple training areas—military and civilian. Then there's weapons, supplies, transportation. We probably need an area where Hoyt and Glenna can work.”

“It will all be seen to.”

Something in his tone, the calmness of it, reminded her this was his ground now. He knew it, and its people. She didn't.

“I don't know the pecking order. The chain of command,” she said. “Who's in charge of what.”

He poured them both more tea. For a moment he thought how nice it was—even if the talk was of war—to sit, just the two of them, over the morning meal.

“Until the sword is drawn from the stone, my father rules as the head of the first family of Geall. He isn't king. He will not be king, but Moira, I think, understands that the men…the military as you call it, trust him. They'll follow the ruler, the one whose hand lifts the sword, but…”

“This is giving them time. It's letting them follow orders, and absorb the idea of this war, from a man who's been proven to them. I get it. Moira's smart to wait a little longer to take command.”

“She is, yes. She's also afraid.”

“That she won't be the one to lift the sword?”

He shook his head. “That she will. That she'll be the queen who must order her people to war. To shed their blood, cause their deaths. It haunts her.”

“It's Lilith who sheds their blood, causes their death.”

“And it will be Moira who tells them to fight. The farmers and the shopkeepers, the tinkers and the cooks. For
generations Geall has been ruled in peace. She'll be the first to change that. It weighs on her.”

“It should. It should never be easy to send a world to war. Larkin, what if it's not her? What if she's not the one, through destiny, or just because she doesn't have it in her to pull that sword out of stone?”

“She was the queen's only child. There's no other in her line.”

“So lines can shift. There's you.”

“Bite your tongue.” When she didn't smile, he sighed. “There would be me. My brother, my sister. My sister's children. The oldest is but four. My brother, he's hardly more than a boy himself, and it's the land that calls to him. My sister wants nothing more than to tend her babies and her home. They could never do this thing. I can't believe the gods would put this into their hands.”

“But yours?”

He met her eyes. “I've never wanted it, to rule. War or peace.”

“People would follow you. They know you, and they trust you.”

“That may be. And if it comes to it, what choice would I have? But the crown isn't my wish, Blair.” Nor was it his destiny, of that he was sure. He reached over, took her hand. “You must know what I wish.”

“Wishes, dreams. We don't always get what we ask for. So we have to take what there is.”

“And what's in your heart? In mine? I want—”

“I'm sorry.” Moira stopped at the doorway. “I'm sorry to disturb you, but my uncle has spoken to the guards, and to the inner circle of knights. You're to come to the great hall.”

“Then we'd better get started,” Blair said.

 

S
he felt under-dressed in jeans and a black sweater.
For the first time since Blair had met her, Moira wore a
dress. A gown? Whatever the term it was simple and elegant, in a kind of russet tone that fell straight down her body from a high, gathered waist.

Her silver cross hung between her breasts, and a thin circlet of gold sat on her head.

Even Glenna seemed polished up, but then again, her favorite witch had a way of giving a casual shirt and pants an air of style and grace.

The cavernous room was heated by fires on either side and fronted by a wide platform, up two steps where a deep red carpet ran. On it stood a throne. An actual throne, Blair mused, in regal red and gold.

Riddock sat on it now, with Moira standing at his side.

To the other side sat a woman. Her blond hair was bound back in what Blair thought was called a snood. A younger woman, obviously pregnant, sat beside her. Two men stood at their backs.

The first family of Geall, Blair decided. Larkin's family.

And at a glance from his father, he touched Blair's arm, murmured: “It'll be fine.” Then he left her to go up the steps and stand between his parents.

“Please.” Riddock gestured. “Take your ease.” He waited until they'd taken chairs at the base of the platform. “Moira and I have talked at length. At her request, I have spoken to the guards and many of the knights to tell them of the threat, and the coming war. It is Moira's wish that you, and the other who came with you, be given the authority of command. To recruit, to train, to forge our army.”

He paused, studied them. “You are not Geallian.”

“Sir,” Larkin objected. “They are proven.”

“This war is brought to our soil, and it will be paid in our blood. I ask why those from outside should lead our people.”

“May I speak?” Hoyt got to his feet, waited until Riddock nodded. “Morrigan herself has sent us here, just as she sent two Geallians to Ireland, to us, so that we would gather into the first circle. We who have come here have
left our worlds and our families, and have pledged our lives to fight this pestilence that comes to Geall.”

“This pestilence murdered our queen, my sister, before ever you came.” Riddock gestured toward them. “You are two women, a demon, and a man of magic. And you are strangers to me. I have seasoned men, who are proven to me. Men whose names I know, whose families I know. Men who know Geall and are unquestioned in loyalty. Men who I know will lead our people strong into battle.”