Orphan's Blade (29 page)

His eyes fluttered open. “Valoria? What are you doing here?”

“The undead are defeated.” Valoria propped his head up with her palm. “Ebonvale is safe.”

“Or what’s left of it.” The young man sat up beside them and shook his head. “And I was about to stick an arrow through my own heart.”

Valoria stared at him in shock.

He ran his hands through his curly red hair. “I fought for Ebonvale and all that. So now, where can I find a decent dinner?”

Valoria pointed to the castle. “There’ll be medics there as well.”

“I don’t need a medic. I need a roasted chicken.” He jumped off the carriage and picked his way through the undead.

Valoria turned back to Nathaniel. He studied her face as if it was the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen. “Brax and the queen?”

“They are safe.” She offered her hand. “Come, let me get you to the castle.”

“You should be with them, not with me.” Nathaniel plopped his head back down on the carriage.

Valoria paused. Should she tell him what Brax said? He had a love, as the mermaids had proven, but was it Blanca?

She’d confronted her inmost fear, beat the necromancer, and climbed over a sea of undead. She had enough courage to tell him the truth.

“Brax does not want my company.”

Nathaniel waved her off. “Give him time.”

“That’s just it.” Valoria tried to think of a polite way to say Brax had denied her. “He does not want time.”

Nathaniel perked up, raising both eyebrows. “So what does he want?”

“For me to be free. He called off the wedding.” She thought she would have been embarrassed, but to speak it brought her relief.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened in shock. “Free?”

She nodded.

“You mean you are not to be married?” He sat up and blinked, wiping dust from his eyes as if he wasn’t seeing the world correctly.

“Not to a prince of Ebonvale.” She smiled. “Unless, there’s someone else who’d want me—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Nathaniel rose and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her so fiercely, she fell back and he fell on top of her. They laughed, and he kissed her again, running his hands through her hair, then along her neck and down to her waist.

Valoria ignited under his touch. He tasted of sweet passion, and she opened her mouth, kissing him deeper, wanting more. She ran her hands through his hair, just like she’d dreamed of doing so many times and pulled him down against her, thinking she’d never release him again.

Valoria took her father’s hand. Sparrows chirped from above as they walked through the sparkling chains of dust motes hanging from the bluewood pines. A crowd sat in white chairs in a meadow beside the domed House of Song. Cadence sat in the back row, followed by Echo, and the other music teachers in the village. On the other side, the queen of Ebonvale sat with Brax and members of the Royal Guard. Finally, the houses would be united.

Nathaniel stood at the end of the aisle dressed in the blue robes of the House of Song. His brown hair had been pulled back, showing his sharp features. He caught her gaze and smiled, intensity burning in his eyes.

“Shall we?” Valorian glanced down at her and squeezed her arm. Gray streaked his long hair, but his silver eyes shone strong as ever. This was the first time he’d have to face Danika Rubystone, and he’d accepted the challenge with courage.

“Are you proud of me, Father?” Valoria hesitated. This was not what he’d wanted. The houses would be united, but not by blood.

“More proud than any father in the land. We do our best, and the Thoridians have always been stubborn in their ways. Thank Lyric for Nathaniel.”

“Yes, he is wonderful, isn’t he?” Valoria smiled, catching Nathaniel’s gaze once again.

They stepped forward, and ten harpists fanned out around the party brought their fingers to the strings in glorious glissandos. For once, Valoria was content not to play with them. She had better things to do.

They approached Nathaniel, and Valorian placed a kiss on her cheek. He turned to Nathaniel and held out an emerald pendant framed in gold. The pendant dangled, catching the rays of sunshine. On the back was the royal crest of the House of Song, a lyrebird. “I gave you this once, a long time ago, when you were a boy.”

“I remember.” Nathaniel nodded with deep respect. “You handed it to me to distract me so I’d hide in the carriage while the kobolds attacked. You told me it is held by the prince and rightful heir to the House of Song.”

“I did.” Valorian smiled. “I was sorry to have to take it back. I’d wanted you to keep it then, and I am more than proud to give it to you now.”

Nathaniel took the pendant and hung it from his neck. “I shall treasure it, and Valoria, always.”

Aubrie Dionne is an author and flutist in New England. Her books have received the highest ratings from Romance Times Magazine and BTS Magazine, as well as Night Owl Reviews and Readers’ Favorite Reviews. She has guest blogged on the USA Today Happy Ever After Blog and the Dear Teen Me blog and signed books at the Boston Book Festival, Barnes and Noble, and the Romance Writers of America conference. Her books are published by HarperImpulse, Entangled Publishing, Astraea Press, Spencer Hill Press, Inkspell Publishing, and Lyrical Press. When she's not writing, Aubrie teaches flute and plays in orchestras.

In case you missed it, keep reading for a sample of Danika and Bron’s story:

MINSTREL’S SERENADE

The Chronicles of Ebonvale, Book One

He’s sworn to protect her, but can he save her from himself?

Danika Rubystone has hated the minstrels ever since her mother ran away with one. As Princess, she’s duty bound to marry Valorian, a minstrel from the House of Song. But problems in the kingdom are mounting. With her father dead, she’s the sole heir to an imperiled throne, and wyverns attack Ebonvale’s southern shores. But after Danika finds a lone survivor of a wyvern’s attack who holds the key to protecting the kingdom and she finally meets the enchantingly sly Valorian, everything changes.

As Ebonvale’s Royal Guard sails with the minstrels to smite the uprising of wyverns, Danika dances a line between sticking by duty like her father, or following her wild heart like her mother.

A Lyrical e-book available now.

Learn more about Aubrie at

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/30585

Fire’s Mark

“No lady should see what evil lies beyond the ridge.” Bron blocked the exit of the carriage with a great wall of muscle, sweat and dark skin. Plumes of smoke rose like great fingers brushing the sky behind his broad shoulders.

Danika focused on the strength in his dark eyes. “Nonsense. Every ruler must bear witness to the devastation afflicting her people so she can make the right decisions to protect her kingdom.”

Bron's stance didn’t change.

She narrowed her eyes; bodyguard or not, he had to follow her orders. She could force him to let her pass, but, maybe this one time she’d play his game. “So she can enact the most deserving form of revenge.”

“That's more like it.” Bron smiled, thick lips curving. “Spoken like a true warrior.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Let me through.”

He sighed with a gentle rise and fall of his broad chest, ran his hand over his shaved head, and stepped aside. “If you insist, Princess.”

She placed her fingers in his war-hardened hand and allowed him to guide her to the blackened earth. The air stank of soot and ash, searing her eyes and the smooth skin on her cheeks. She blinked through the wave of heat and summoned her courage. “Show me the site of the greatest devastation.”

“As you wish, Princess. The smoke spooks the horses, so we’ll have to trek up the cliff on foot.”

“Walking doesn’t frighten me.” She’d worn her thigh-high riding boots underneath her damask underskirt for such an occasion. She ripped the top layer of silks off, revealing the same leather leggings warriors wore under their tunics.

Bron averted his eyes. When his gaze returned to her, he seemed to appraise her with newfound interest.

She stashed the frills in the carriage, hiding the burning flush in her cheeks. Surely the heat had raised her temperature. She refused to blame Bron’s attention. “Lead me to Shaletown.”

“Or what’s left of it.”

Bron picked his way through charred trunks, presenting his hand whenever the footing grew treacherous. Although the ground steamed and the soles of her feet burned, she made her way on her own, refusing his offers. As the new ruler of Ebonvale, she had to show strength in a time when fear spread like the plague of the dead.

They crested the ridge and she covered her mouth with her sleeve. The blackened village lay before them as dead man’s land. People had walked the cobblestones that morning going about their everyday business, unaware of the impending devastation. Anger boiled inside her, followed by a black void of loss sucking her dry.

Danika cleared her parched throat. “Has anyone searched for survivors?”

She knew the answer before Bron opened his mouth.

“No, my lady. The clouds from the blaze obscure the sky and the wyverns may still hover, waiting for stragglers. Besides, the chance of any surviving such devastation…”

She scanned the remains from her raven perch, balancing her boot on the stump of a sizzled tree. The brick foundation of a tavern stood without its thatched roof or bluewood walls. Black stains streaked across the town square where the fire’s breath licked its way through. Skeletons littered the ash, their black-splotched finger bones grasping through the soot to seek salvation. This kingdom belonged to her now, and she couldn’t let the provinces fall to ruin because of a swarm of vermin from the south.

Her heart raced as ire shot up through her chest, splitting her apart. “How could they destroy innocent people?”

“They’re beasts, Your Highness. There’s no logical reasoning to their onslaught.”

“But we’ve stayed clear of Scalehaven. Unless something lured them to our lands?”

Bron shrugged as if the wyverns’ attack were inevitable. “The beasts’ population brims with hatchlings. Scouts have reported the yearlings as far north as Brimmore’s Bay.” His voice danced, careful and light, as if he wanted to protect her from the truth.

She ran her mother’s satin scarf across her blistering forehead. Sweat stained the pink fabric red. “My father would know what to do.”

Bron’s gaze dropped to the ash as if her words defeated him.

Danika cursed her weak tongue. She knew better than to speak of the late king in front of him.

He met her gaze once again. “I have full faith in your rule.”

Helplessness trickled through her, threatening to weaken her knees. Danika pulled away, straightening her back against the rising channels of smoke blotting the sky. She wanted to lean into him and borrow his strength, but such a gesture led toward a doomed future. To choose such a lowly man, albeit the Chief of Arms, when so many more lucrative prospects remained, would place her kingdom in further jeopardy. Especially in times as dark as these.

A blur of earthy brown scrambled between an overturned carriage and the remnants of the smithy. Danika’s concerns flew from her mind as she focused on the form huddled behind the coal pit.

“There.” She thrust her finger into the smoke. “A small child.”

Bron grabbed for her arm but the silky fabric of her sleeve slipped through his fingers. She threw herself forward, stumbling down the cliff’s side.

“Princess, no!”

Her arms flailed as she scrambled between slabs of malachite, the sharp edges exposed by the wyverns’ breath. Halfway down, a keen wail rode the wind, slicing her ears. Black ribbons flickered on the horizon.

“Danika, stop! They’re coming back!”

She jumped the final five feet and landed on her hands and knees beside the smithy. So many had died. If she could save just one…

The boy cowered with his arms covering his head.

“Boy! Come here.” She waved to him but his eyes were shut as tight as a noblewoman’s purse.

“Horred’s grave.” She’d have to sprint to make it. She skirted a pile of flaming wood and jumped over the wall, the broken glass tearing her bell-shaped sleeves like wyvern’s teeth. She stumbled forward on her hand and knees, ripping the fabric to free herself.

A bronze plate three sizes too big hung on the boy’s sagging shoulders. Had the armor shielded him? Surely not.
The fire would heat the metal to near melting, sizzling a layer of skin.

As she ran toward him, he turned in the direction of her footsteps and peeked through narrow eyelids. He must have recognized her, because his eyes widened as big as two chicken eggs in a face covered in thick, black ash. Surprisingly, he had no burns.

“Follow me.” She hoisted him up, and they scuttled through a hole blazed into the foundation.

The boy tugged on her arm to hide underneath the anvil. “It’s too late. They’re here.”

Danika fought him as she glanced at the sky. The ribbons grew thicker, spiraling through the air like glittering pennants on Festival Day. The pattern of swirls mesmerized her as the horde unfurled.

She blinked, tearing her gaze away. “We can still make it.”

The boy had stopped battling her, hypnotized by the sky. “It’s too late.”

“No.” She yanked him around and screamed her throat raw. “Run!”

As they neared the cliff, Bron stood above them like a chiseled statue of a war god, unsheathing his golden claymore. A pang of worry pierced her stomach like a dagger. He’d stayed behind to distract the wyverns’ attention to cover their escape.

Why had she been so foolish?

The first wyvern landed with a gush of wings on the outskirts of the village behind them, while a second flew straight toward Bron. Danika climbed, knowing full well she might have sent the two-time war veteran to his death. She lifted the boy and pushed him up the hill.