Love's Call
Love’s Call
Book Two
of
The King’s Riders
by
C.A. Szarek
Love’s Call
C.A. Szarek
Book Two of
The King’s Riders
All rights reserved
Copyright © February, 2014, C.A. Szarek
Cover Art Copyright © 2013, Nicole Cadet (http://www.nicolecadet.com/)
Series Imprint Copyright © 2013, Tatiana Barfod
Map Copyright © 2013, Matthew Bryant
Edited by Catherine DePasquale
Paper Dragon Publishing
North Richland Hills, TX
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including, but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Paper Dragon Publishing or the Author.
eBook ISBN:
978-1-941151-02-0
Print book ISBN:
978-1-941151-03-7
Published in the United States of America
First eBook Edition: February, 2014
First Print Edition: February, 2014
CONTENTS
Other Books by C.A. Szarek
The King’s Riders—Fantasy Romance
Sword’s Call (Book One)
Fate’s Call (A Novella from the World of the King’s Riders)
Coming 2014!
Crossing Forces—Romantic Suspense
Collision Force (Book One)
Cole in Her Stocking (A Crossing Forces Christmas)—
FREE read!
Chance Collision (Book Two)
Calculated Collision (Book Three)
Coming June 2014!
Highland Secrets Trilogy—Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Coming 2014!
The Tartan MP3 Player (Book One)
The Fae Ring (Book Two)
The Parchment Scroll (Book Three)
Anthologies
Deep in the Hearts of Texas—
FREE read!
Story: Promise (A Crossing Forces Companion)
THE NORTH
DEDICATION
This one goes out to all my girls in the Tomb!
Chapter One
Ansley rode hard. She leaned into Caide, holding tight to the reins and squeezing the saddle with her thighs. She wasn’t worried about losing Ali. Her wolf would keep up; she always did.
Night had fallen hours before, and she would ride four more before she reached the center of Greenwald. She’d entered the Province some time ago, but this ride was long and arduous.
Ansley had left Terraquist right after supper, and the hearty rabbit stew sat in her stomach like a brick.
Ali, stay close, love,
she thought-sent to her bondmate, sucking in a breath as the hood to her Senior Rider cape slipped off her head. She yanked it back into place, covering her ears against the rushing wind.
Her bondmate’s only answer was a mental grunt, but it was reassuring.
The wolf’s black coat was hard to see in the dark, but Ansley could sense her at the horse’s side through the magic that joined them.
They moved down the road, encountering no one; Ansley stuck to the main thoroughfare, her sword sheathed at her waist and the message she carried safe in her belt-pouch.
At least we’re making good time.
There had been no time to prepare for this overnight run assignment. Fatigue was encroaching. Her back throbbed; her legs were heavy, despite the stirrups taking most of the weight.
Her captain, Sir Artair Moray, had summoned her after evening meal. When she’d arrived, the king was present, as well.
She’d been charged with orders to deliver a message to the neighboring Province of Greenwald.
It was urgent, King Nathal had said. No, it wouldn’t hold until dawn.
Captain Moray had already ordered her white gelding readied to be awaiting her in the courtyard.
Ansley wouldn’t question her superior or her king. She’d hidden her surprise.
Worry had seized her gut, but King Nathal had promised nothing was amiss. He commanded her to take her time at her destination, giving leave to visit with both Lady Cera, the Duchess of Greenwald, and her other good friend, Lady Aimil Dagget, who also resided at the dukedom stronghold, Castle Aldern. Both ladies, newly married, were former Senior King’s Riders, like Ansley.
Cera was carrying a child due any day now, so the king had encouraged her to stay for the birth.
Time away from her duties as one of the king’s messengers was unusual and welcome. Ansley would enjoy herself. Take her time coming home.
Even her father, Captain to the king’s personal guard, had encouraged her. He’d met her in the courtyard and given her a long hug goodbye. She’d scratched their cat, Xander, behind the ear, ignoring the hiss he directed at her bondmate.
Caide had carried her well into Greenwald now; they were perhaps an hour from the gates that surrounded Greenwald Main.
Ali came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road.
“Ali!” Her shout did nothing to move her wolf.
Ansley yanked Caide’s reins, and he stopped short, throwing his head back and whinnying, but it kept him from mowing down her bondmate.
Her steed’s muscles rippled, and she squeezed her thighs to keep her seat, whispering to calm him.
Ali.
Ansley’s wolf didn’t respond to her mental scold.
The large she-wolf’s posture was tight.
Sighing, Ansley threw her leg over Caide and slid down his side. Her feet throbbed with the jarring impact of the ground. She patted the horse’s sweaty neck and apologized.
Caide snorted and shook his head, as if he was blaming Ali.
Ansley bit back a smile. Her constant companions only
tolerated
each other.
When she stepped beside her wolf, she ran her hand down the length of Ali’s back. Her bond’s ears were perked, head tilted to one side.
“What do you hear?”
Her bondmate didn’t acknowledge Ansley’s voice.
With a curse, Ansley pulled her sword and looked around. Ali’s gaze was locked toward the woods that lined the road, but Ansley’s human eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
She buried her hand in the thick, black fur at the back of Ali’s neck, muttering a spellword one of the king’s mages had taught her, when they’d bonded. Instantly, her own sight sharpened as she shared Ali’s eyes. Colors were off a little, but her eyes had never seen clearer. Where she could only see shadow on her own, Ali’s eye allowed her to take in shape, make out so many more things in the night.
The wolf blinked, as she absorbed the feeling of Ansley’s mind slipping into hers, but she didn’t fight her.
They were bonded, and Ali was used to Ansley’s presence in her mind. The spell temporarily deepened their connection.
Ansley didn’t have much magic, so she couldn’t maintain the link for long. Using spells, even simple ones, exhausted her.
A low growl sounded in the wolf’s throat, and Ansley tightened her grip. Soft, thick fur grazed her palm and pushed through her fingers.
But Ansley spotted what Ali had.
There was a dark lump lying in the underbrush about six feet from the road.
It moved. Then moaned.
Ali startled, but Ansley stopped her from jolting forward with a quick mental command.
She released her hold and the spell, lifting her sword. Sweat broke out on her forehead and her heart thundered, as she edged forward. A too-cool breeze for the fall evening made a tremor shoot down her spine.
Her bondmate darted in front of her. Ali would let Ansley check out the mystery, but the wolf would always act without order to protect.
“Blessed Spirit,” she whispered, hitting a knee. The tip of her sword scraped into the dirt making a small high pitched sound Ansley ignored.
Ali lifted her head, catching the poor creature’s scent, then whined and pawed the ground. Her wolf lost her defensive posture and inched closer. If Ansley could smell the blood—and she did—no doubt Ali did, too.
Ansley sheathed her sword and pulled off her riding gloves, tucking them into her belt.
“Help.” The word slipped from damaged lips.
Ansley leaned down, shoving her thick plait over her shoulder when it fell forward. Digging in her belt-pouch, she felt for a magic-activated light. She said the spellword to bring it to life as soon as her fingers closed around it.
It wouldn’t last long because Ansley’s energy was almost spent, from the long ride as well as the magic she’d used with Ali.
She gripped the small sticklike object. It was designed by the king’s mages for a single lighting. All Riders carried them on long runs. Handy for emergencies, but even a mage of great skill could only make them work—and last—for about two hours.
The slight figure made another noise, and Ansley’s stomach lurched. She reached out, gently moving matted hair. What had to be instinct made the girl move away from her hand at the same time the gasp fell from Ansley’s lips.
There was no way the woman could see her.
One eye was swollen shut, the other open only a slit. Her lip was split, and there was gash across her right cheekbone. Her nose was broken and bloody. No area was left untouched.
The girl was young and slight, eight and ten at the most. Her tight, ebony curls were disheveled and several spots soaked in blood. Her clothing, a ragged scrap of a dress, was soiled and torn, as was the thin cloak she wore. The light fabric could never warm her adequately on a Greenwald fall night.
