Kyn Series (8 page)

A few minutes later, Vixen followed Markus into the main hall of the barrow with two pixies wearing determined expressions, on either side, to make sure she didn’t decide to take a little walkabout of her own. Not that there was any fear of that, if the Kyn were here, she wanted to be with them. It was her best shot at getting out of there.

Despite the situation, Vixen stopped for a moment in sheer awe as they entered the hall. The room she’d woken up in and the corridors were fairly mundane, appearing to be something out of an old manor house. So, it was easy to forget they were in what basically amounted to a small section of Faery, albeit one tethered permanently to the human world. But here, in the hall, were majestic columns supporting a high ceiling, decorated in a breathtaking mural depicting the history of the barrow. Only, pixie murals weren’t quite the same as the mundane human ones, being a real-time account of the events they recorded. She watched a vicious battle rage across the ceiling—pixies fighting goblins and all manner of other creatures. Including other pixies. In fact, a
hell
of a lot of other pixies.

A startled intake of breath brought her back to the present and she looked around. At the other end of the hall stood Marak, surrounded by the largest bunch of warriors Vixen had ever seen in one place. Well, that she’d ever seen in one place and not arguing. Instead, they all looked her way with concern shown on their faces. Next to Marak, Kalen took a step forward, only to be stopped by the king’s large hand on his arm.

Vixen blinked, surprised to see Marak. In fact, she was surprised to see as many warriors as there were congregated in the room. She realized Marak must have cut his honeymoon short, feeling both guilty and touched he’d come to her assistance. There at the back was Geran, the guy she’d swopped patrols with so he could spend time with his mate, and others who she knew weren’t rostered on this night.

A warm feeling settled deep in her chest, heating her heart. Bless them, they’d all come to her rescue. For years, she’d thought no one liked her, total bitch that she was most of the time. Finally, she found the face she looked for amongst them. Feral, appearing more than a little worse for wear was covered in cuts and bruises, with one eye swollen shut and his arm in a sling. Regardless, he stood tall, his ‘no nonsense’ expression not boding well for the pixies around them. She knew without asking, that any pixie who crossed Feral in the future was going to get the snot beat out of it.

“Well now, we are honored. I didn’t expect you to grace our humble barrow, your highness,” Markus said smoothly, nodding toward Marak. The two men, king and warlord, eyed each other, both obviously used to this sort of game. Marak inclined his head, ignoring the vaguely insulting tone Markus had injected into his voice.

“Well, when one of my warriors goes missing—”

“You mean kidnapped,” a voice snarled, only to be interrupted by another.

“Shut it, K, let Marak do his thing before you open your trap.”

“When one of my warriors goes missing,” Marak repeated in a louder voice as he cast a sharp look at Kalen, “I’m all over it, wherever I need to be. Obviously, I’m interested in resolving this matter as soon as possible.”

“Oh, you hear that, sweetheart? Your old boss wants to ‘resolve the matter.’”

Markus smirked as he draped an arm over Vixen’s shoulders. She stood rigid, well aware he still had the spelled blade on him. She had no idea where. Thanks to pixie sleight-of-hand, she hadn’t seen him put it away, and had no clue where he’d concealed it. Nor, more importantly, how quickly he could have it back in his hand. Knowing pixies, it would be within a heartbeat, which was the only thing keeping Vixen from snapping his neck where he stood.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen.”

False regret colored Markus’ voice as his eyes sparkled. Pixies loved danger and there was nothing more dangerous, or more suicidal, than baiting a bunch of Kyn warriors. “You’ve had somewhat of a wasted journey. You see, Miss Vixen here, has already agreed to become my wife.” He said smoothly, smiling smugly at them.

*

“Bullshit.” The comment was snarled in more than one voice, at least four warriors started forward at the same time as Kalen did. Marak held up his hand, stopping them in their tracks.

That pixie was a dead man. Kalen’s eyes narrowed with anger as a muscle in his jaw jumped irritably. Fury surged through him like a tidal wave, battering aside all the defenses of logical reasoning as he focused on the hand resting across Vixen’s shoulders. But first, he decided, he’d cut the bastard’s hands off for daring to touch the woman he loved.

Whoa. Where did that come from?
He blinked at the thought. Not the hands thing, that was happening anyway. If not Kalen, then there were at least ten Kyn around him with the same intent shining in their eyes. But, Kalen called dibs because of his relationship with Vixen.
Could years of sniping and two steamy encounters be counted as a relationship?

Yes, it counted. It definitely counted. His sniping over the years had been a defense mechanism. After his ex-wife, Kalen had vowed off women, off love. But Vixen had been a threat, he saw that now. And his subconscious had tried to shield him from it, trying to keep her at arm’s length. It hadn’t worked, though.

He loved her.

He held that discovery to himself for a moment, feeling the warmth spread out from his heart to fill every cell of his body. His gaze sought hers, her green eyes filled with worry and fear. He smiled, showing reassurance in his. They were getting out of this, simple as that. He wasn’t going to let anything else happen.

“Vixen, is this true?”

Marak’s voice brought Kalen back to the present and he turned, awaiting Vixen’s answer with interest. There was no way she’d agreed to this, not of her own freewill. If she had, then the pixie had something over her. Kalen’s hand tightened on his hilts. If he’d hurt her in any way…

But she didn’t get a chance to answer, as Markus interrupted her as she opened her mouth to speak. “
I
say it’s true, and in my barrow, my word is law.”

Kalen knew what he was about. Challenge. To disagree with a pixie warlord on their own turf was suicide, unless you formally challenged them according to pixie law. Trouble was, what your average Kyn knew about pixie law was roughly the same as what Kalen knew about women’s cosmetics. In other words, jack shit.

“Oh buggar it, I just
knew
this was going to happen,” a female voice grumbled. Kalen turned slightly as the petite woman who stood next to Marak stepped forward. Frustrated by the delay, he hadn’t understood why they’d stopped to pick up a warden en route. He had to admit, though, she’d proven her worth by getting them in with her mystical mumbo jumbo.

“Who is this?” Markus demanded, only to be fixed by a steely stare from a young woman looking as if she’d been dragged from her bed with only enough time to throw on a pair of jeans and a jacket.

“Look, you. I’m knackered, I’ve had less than an hour’s sleep, and I’m
really
hoping to get home in time to get some more tonight. So, keep the chatter to a minimum and let’s do this thing, okay?” The tone of authority in her voice impressed even Kalen, who’d spent years hearing the same tone from Marak.

“Right. According to the laws passed by Nemain, Mistress of the Hunt and Lady of the Dark Court, to which all lesser courts, including this one, must pay homage, we—meaning the Kyn warriors in this room and myself—do formally challenge you, Warlord Markus Ryan Lysander, upon the matter of the kidnapping and detention of the Kyn warrioress known as Vixen.”

The warden’s voice sounded calm, perhaps even slightly bored as she rattled off the challenge. If the reaction of the pixies in the room was an indicator, it seemed to also be in the correct format. They’d gone from bored and nonchalant to attentive and interested. Kalen felt the excitement in the air as they watched Markus, waiting for his reaction as she carried on.

“Furthermore, we challenge you to a trial by physical combat to be held within the appointed challenge circle of this barrow. The winner of the trial shall be defined as the person that draws first blood from his opponent. This trial shall be between only two combatants. We shall name our own, and you shall do likewise. This need not necessarily be yourself, but must be a pixie belonging to your pack. Likewise, we shall name a Kyn warrior in the room to be our champion. As the challenged, you may specify the type of weaponry. Do you understand the terms of this challenge as I have outlined it?”

Bloody hell, talk about tying a man’s hands behind his back. Kalen shot the warden a frown as she outlined the terms. First blood…what did she think she played at? It wasn’t a good fight unless you bled from at least a dozen cuts afterward. So, in one fell swoop, she’d managed to remove one of his advantages. Like most Kyn, Kalen could take an awful lot of damage in a fight. A fact he often used to get close enough to his opponent to finish them off.

“So I can’t kill the bastard then?” he growled, blades leaping to his hands in an instant, a murderous gaze fixed on the pixie warlord. He didn’t bother to ask who the Kyn were naming for the fight. It was going to be him, even if he had to put the rest out of commission beforehand.

“No, you can’t. The bout is to first blood only. Don’t piss me about on this one, Kyn,” she threatened, a ‘no nonsense’ look in her eyes. “I have no qualms about turning you into something unpleasant for a few hours. Now, my lord, do you accept this challenge?”

She turned back toward Markus who smiled. Not in amusement, but a small and unpleasant little expression that triggered a warning prickle at the base of Kalen’s skull.

“Oh, most definitely, Lady Warden. I think your pet warrior there has the right idea. My choice is blades.”

*

Vixen paled at Markus’ words, the tone in his voice telling her exactly what was going through his mind. “Crap. Kalen, he has a spelled blade,” she warned, which earned her a sharp look from the pixie warlord.

“Now, now my dear, that wasn’t nice,” he chided, tightening his arm around her neck for a second. “Completely ruined my little surprise.”

Vixen ignored him, stepping away as another pixie approached, carrying a sheathed blade. It had to be the spelled one, given the wary way the younger pixie handled it, backing up in relief when Markus took it from him. In a single move, he drew it and discarded the sheath on the floor before holding the blade up to the light. Vixen shuddered. Like the smaller one, Midnight had that aura of wrongness about it, a malevolent sheen across the metal that reminded her of something moving underneath it. Something alive.

She sought Kalen, gaze locking onto him. Standing on the other side of the room, he looked as calm and unruffled as he always did. His twin blades were already in his hands as he rolled his neck. A movement she’d seen hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. He had to survive this.
Please, let him be all right, he has to be all right…

“If you’ll all step back to the edges of the circle, please.”

A new, female voice asked politely, as a pixie Vixen hadn’t noticed before pointed out the design in the marble of the floor. The challenge circle. The place Kalen would risk his life to save her. “Only the two fighters are allowed to be in the circle during a challenge.” She smiled slightly, a sad look in her lovely eyes.

Not much was known about female pixies. Now Vixen saw why. Delicate in build, with an exotic fae-like appearance, she had deep chestnut hair rather than the bright coloring that characterized the male of the species. A small glamour and she could easily pass for human. No doubt they did, and that was why no one had ever
seen
a female pixie. They probably had, and just didn’t realize it.

Vixen bit her lip as everyone did as instructed, and stepped back from the edges of the circle, the sharp tang of blood almost unnoticed in her worry. She needed to be in there,
do
something. Not just stand around like some wallflower straight out of a gothic novel.

Her agitated fidgeting drew the attention of her pixie guard, the one who resembled Markus too closely to be anything but family. He raised an eyebrow, tapping a finger against his wrist sheath pointedly. Vixen recognized the hilt of the dagger there—Whisper. Markus had obviously anticipated and planned for a reaction from his captive.

The two men stepped into the circle. It was easy to see from the way they moved that violence was nothing new to them. Neither bothered with flashy moves or showy displays like twirling their blades around, and both already had theirs drawn. It took longer to draw a blade than to get hit by one, and in this kind of fight, one needed every advantage one could get.

*

Kalen kept his body loose and his breathing light as he circled his opponent. The slightly musty, earthy scent of the barrow hall filled his nostrils, reminding him unpleasantly they were underground someplace. Bizarre for a vampire, Kalen was scared of being buried alive. The expression on his face was deadly serious rather than his usual jovial one. Sword fighting was a deadly game, even without the threat of a spelled blade.

He needed all his wits just to stay alive, never mind win. He needed to remain loose and relaxed rather than tense. If he did that, he couldn’t react as quickly. Not being able to do so, as quickly as Markus, would have a very predictable outcome. It would get him dead. Fast.

Tension mounted with the silence in the room as the two circled each other. They hadn’t exchanged a single blow yet. Kalen just watched, assessing as he circled his opponent, the world beyond the edges of the circle ceasing to exist for him. He knew from years of experience he needed total focus. The outcome in a sword fight was often decided within seconds, sometimes with the first serious blow. He watched the pixie, eyes alert for the way he moved, noting everything. Even the way the pixie kept his weight slightly on his right leg as he moved, perhaps indicating a right hand dominance.

“She is quite right you know, this
is
a spelled blade.” Markus’ voice was oily, as he feinted toward Kalen, testing his reactions. Sword steel clashed briefly before the pixie broke away. He was fast. Kalen had expected that. After all, you didn’t get to be a pixie warlord by being slow or inept in combat.