Gift of the Goddess (23 page)

Sweet Mother, she’d done all those things! And why? Because she loved Brin, more than life, more than breath, more than—

No, not
more
…

She stared wide-eyed at Trey, his compact body dappled by sun and shade, and saw through the sweet, cocky façade to the rock-solid strength at his core. It was Trey’s love that kept Brin grounded, lightened the darkness in his soul, ensured his humanity.

And her own.

Even before she’d had Deklan, she’d lived her life alone. And to be honest, Deklan had made little difference, though she’d been fond of him.
Fond!
Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. She’d needed no one and been perfectly content.

What sort of cosmic joke had the gods played on her? Not once, but twice.

She was so deeply tangled with the both of them, she’d never get free. Wryly, she acknowledged that her solitary existence was gone forever.

“What are you thinking?” Trey took her hands in his. “The flames leap in your eyes.”

“I—” She stalled. Mother, the words were hard to say!

Trey kissed her knuckles. “Go on, Anje. Say it aloud, say you love him.”

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Her mouth was dry. “That’s not it.” She shook her head. “I mean, I do. I do love him, but…”

“But what?”

She got it out in a single breath. “I love you too.” Gulping, she added, “I must be mad. Completely insane.”

There was absolute silence. Trey stared as if he’d been poleaxed. Then he laughed with delight. The ringing, exuberant sound echoed among the trees.

“
Yes!
” He punched a fist in the air. “Lufra, yes!” Hauling her into his arms, he kissed the life out of her.

“Trey, you idiot!” She struggled without much conviction. “I can’t breathe.”

His grin was blinding. “When? When did you know?”

“About three minutes ago?”

“Oh.” He looked taken aback for a second, but recovered quickly. “When do you think was the first moment then? When you fell?”

“Gods, you’re vain.”

“No, I’m not. I just need reassurance.” He waggled his eyebrows and leered. “Was it when you saw my cock?”

“No-o-o.” Smiling, Anje considered. “It was when you kissed me hullo. Remember?”

His face softened. “Like this.” He took her face between his palms and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Hullo, Anje. I’ll love you all my life.”

His lips whispered over her cheek, her eyelids, her nose, drifted to her mouth. Anje let her head fall back and he pressed her down. She relaxed beneath him and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to ease a small, sweet climax from her with his fingers, before slipping inside her and stroking them gently to completion.

The silken glide of his thrusts, the slow rise of her hips were a benediction, an act of love so exquisitely beautiful that they sipped each other’s tears, whispering foolish words of comfort and joy.

As she reached the crest and slipped over, Anje felt the link glow far, far away, like a blessing.

She ran her hands down Trey’s spine and over the curve of his fine ass, brushing her palms over downy hair and taut muscle. She took his earlobe between her teeth and breathed, “He’s awake.”

Trey arched a dark gold brow. “We’d better get on with the rescue then.” With a sigh, he disengaged himself from her body. Then he chuckled. “I can’t wait to see his face.”

Anje shrugged into her shirt. “It won’t be easy.”

He grunted as he pulled on his boots. “More like impossible. But we can’t leave him to the Hssrda.”

120 Gift of the Goddess

She shuddered. “Mother, no! I’d rather die. In fact, I know I would.”

Trey crawled out of their shelter and stood, stretching ‘til his shoulders creaked. “Agreed,” he said and the bleakness of his expression was worthy of Brin at his grimmest.

As she joined him, sniffing the green freshness of the morning, something shifted in Anje’s perceptions—and there it was.

The price in pain. The gods’ price for the love of two such extraordinary men.

Her duty and her honor.

There was no question about what she was going to do next. She couldn’t abandon Brin to slavery or death, nor could she leave Trey to die in a single-handed rescue attempt. Her guts clenching, she acknowledged the simple truth.

If she had to, she would sacrifice her life for theirs, because life without them wasn’t worth living. She loved Brin and Trey more than her duty as a scout, more than her professional pride. Ah, Mother of Mercy, more than the welfare of her people!

Bitterness rose in her throat and she closed her eyes, breathing hard.
Holy Mother, forgive me, forgive me! But I can’t leave him to the gelding knives of the Hssrda! I cannot!

Like the Mother’s blessing, another thought came to her. All was not completely lost. If she could get her map to a fast rider, a messenger she could trust… Her reputation as a scout would never be the same in Mother’s Hearth, but that hardly mattered when the Matriarchs would have all the intelligence they needed to plan the Children’s defense.

Biting her lip, she worked with Trey to strike camp, worrying at her problem like a fellwolf with a carcass. Soon. It would have to be soon.

She cast a speculative glance at her companion, at his grim face as he strapped the saddlebags on the vranee. A smile trembled on her lips. Such a beautiful warrior, the Children would love him. He’d be safe once he reached Mother’s Hearth. She stole another look from under her lashes and sighed. His jaw was set rock hard, that luscious mouth thin with resolve. No, he’d never go and she couldn’t make him.

She lifted her arms so Trey could swing her up and settle her in front of him on Brownie. Twink still limped, so they’d decided to spare him the weight of a rider. “Which way?”

Anje closed her eyes and sought the tiny spark. Gods, she hoped she got better with practice! Deliberately, she relaxed, breathing the tension out of her muscles. The link tugged at her. “Through there.” She pointed and they set off.

After a little while, a thought occurred to her. “Trey, can you set wards?”

His brow creased. “It’s shaman’s magic. I don’t have the gift. We’ll just have to be very careful. How far away are they?”

“That’s just it!” Anje spat out an oath. “I know they’re not really close, because my head still hurts, but apart from that I can’t tell.”

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Trey brushed her cheek with his lips. “It’s the link, love. It’ll get better as we get closer.” He hesitated. “We’re still somewhere on the tableland. My guess is the Hssrda will head for The Hollows.”

“What are they?”

Again the pause. “It’s the last settlement before the forest and the mountains. Though settlement is a polite description. The Hollows is more like a stationary blood bath, with lots of rotgut liquor thrown in.”

Anje’s heart leaped. There might be a rider there she could hire. It sank again. Scouts lived off the land. She had only a few coins.

Trey ran a hand through his hair until it stood up in red-gold spikes. When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “There are almost always Hssrda there, because of the slave market.”

Anje’s guts roiled. She knew what the Hssrda did to male slaves, especially the strong, potentially dangerous ones, but she couldn’t bear to say the words aloud. Instead, she asked, “He won’t do anything stupid, will he?”

Trey thought about it as Brownie waded through a shallow stream as delicately as a maiden lady. “I don’t think so. But if there are others, women or children…” She felt him shrug. “Lufra only knows.”

For another two days, they traveled through the forest of Sitariat-Gillen and every hour, the glow of the link grew imperceptibly brighter and the ache eased infinitesimally. Sometimes, Anje could even distinguish emotions. Once or twice, Brin’s rage had been so violent, it had actually hurt her in a vague sort of way, like grit in the back of her skull. But he wasn’t provoking punishment, because he was not in pain, only fretting under a low level of discomfort. She wondered if he was dampening the effects somehow, to spare her. She wouldn’t put it past him.

Early on the second morning, the link flared out of nowhere, boiling with a dark blend of excitement, aggression and rage. Gasping, Anje clutched Trey’s arm. “Something’s happening! An escape! He’s breaking out!”

Trey pulled the vran to a halt. For heart-pounding minutes, they sat in silence, Trey’s cheek pressed to Anje’s as if he could feel the Bond link through the bones of her skull.

“Shit!” She reared back, clapping a hand to her upper arm. It burned with the distant echo of a bright, slashing pain. “Brin, it’s not working! Stop, stop!” A dull ache bloomed at her temple and the link winked out. “Mother!” Anje slumped forward over Brownie’s neck.

“Anje, Anje!” Trey pulled her back into his arms. “What is it? Is he—?”

She drew a shaky breath. “He, he’s—” Like a cloud-covered moon reflected in deep water, the link shimmered back into being. “All right. Thank the Mother.”

Trey hugged her tight. “I swear I’ll strangle him with my bare hands! He shouldn’t take such risks.”

122 Gift of the Goddess

Anje laughed weakly. “Brin accept captivity? Not possible.” She twisted in his arms to drop a kiss on his cheek. “Relax, the Mother gave him a mighty hard head.”

Thereafter, Anje scouted ahead on foot, though when they heard fellwolves howling in the distance, it made Trey furious with fear for her. Late in the afternoon, they tethered the vranee under the trees and she led him, slithering on their bellies, to the edge of an escarpment.

Cautiously, they peered over the edge. “There.” She indicated with her chin.

Far below, the Hssrda caravan wound down a well-marked trail. Two moving pinkish-brown knots of bodies must be the slaves, naked, bound together and driven like beasts. Sunlight glinted on halberds and the air was so still, they could hear the occasional whistled command and once, a thin scream.

“Lufra’s tits!”

Anje turned to Trey, but he was squinting at the sky. She followed his gaze. The Shadow had eaten a quarter of the Sun.

She wriggled back out of sight. “What?”

“We’re running out of time.”

“You mean for Brin?”

He cut her a glance from under his extravagant lashes. “Well, yes, but the Day of the Dark is getting close awfully fast.” She opened her mouth and he said hastily, “I’ll explain later. Come on.”

He tugged her arm, but she planted her feet. “Don’t mess with me, Trey. The link aches and it makes me cranky. Explain now! And while you’re at it, I want to know about being a prince.”

“All right, all
right
!” His lower lip jutted and he glared. “Get on the bloody vran, woman, and I’ll tell you.”

She waited until Brownie was picking his way down the slope toward the trail. Trey hadn’t spoken. “Well?”

His knuckles tightened on the rein. “My mother is the Queen of Feolin,” he said baldly and stopped.

Gods, it was like drawing teeth! “Go on.”

“It really doesn’t matter,” he said and fell silent.

How the gods must be laughing! For an instant, she had a vision of the Mother’s wise, gentle face, a finger held to her lips. “Will you be king?” she asked, her heart sinking.

Trey let out a gusty breath. “Thank Lufra, no. I have a sister. There have been no kings since—” He broke off.

“Brin told me. Since the king raped Lufra’s priestess.”

“Yes,” he said heavily. “My great-grandfather, gods rot him.”

“Is Brin royal too?”

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“Brin?” Trey laughed. “He’d be insulted. Brin’s father was a blacksmith. Everything he’s achieved has been without the benefit of privilege.” There was pride in his tone and fondness. She thought he would speak just so of a gifted, much loved son and her heart turned over.

Before she could drown in her own honey, she steeled herself to ask, “What has the Day of the Dark got to do with anything?”

Trey pulled Brownie up. “Better shut up now. I can see the trail through the trees.”

Anje twisted to stare into his face. He looked so bland as to be positively shifty. “I won’t forget, Trey.”

He sighed. “I know. Just remember you promised you’d never leave me.”

124 Gift of the Goddess

Chapter Eighteen

The Queendom has no diplomatic contact in this lawless part of the Sitariat-Gillen Tableland. Feolin citizens are strongly advised to avoid The Hollows. Those intending to travel despite this warning should take their own guards and, if possible, an experienced healer.

Travel Advisory for the Sitariat-Gillen Tableland, issued by the Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Office, Feolin, 10351 ATF.

They waited a few hundred yards off the trail until near dark, but whenever the wind shifted, they could smell the stench of The Hollows, an amalgam of uncured hides, crowded humanity and mud.