Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 (6 page)

He
strode into the park and was lost from view. What business could he
have in there? Was it solitude he sought? Peace? Perhaps he hunted
the comfort of a woman. Alecia imagined the captain’s arms around
her and jumped as she realized where her thoughts had carried
her.
I must
be true to Jorge’s memory
.
I
owe him that much and more
. She tried to distract herself with thoughts of Jorge but
her eyes again found the captain. What had made him so
angry?

As Alecia
watched, a black and gold-banded hawk burst from the trees of the
park and shot straight into the heavens until it was just a speck.
That was odd. The local hawks were all brown and smaller. She
struggled to keep the dot in focus but blinked and lost it. That
bird had been magnificent. The thought that someone might capture
the creature struck a chord of sorrow within her. Something that
beautiful should not be tamed.

Alecia pulled
her gaze from the sky and her heart leaped at the sight of the same
exotic bird perched on the roof of the stable. It stared at her,
unblinking. The eyes appeared golden however it was impossible to
be sure at this distance. She shivered and forced herself to look
away and over to the park. When her eyes swept back to the stable
roof, the hawk had vanished.

Alecia
maintained her vigil at the window, hoping to catch another
glimpse. The bird did not reappear
-- and neither did the captain, even though she
stood there until the light faded.

The banded hawk
soared high above Brightcastle Town, the air currents ruffling his
gold and black feathers. It had been too long. The sense of
weightlessness was like no other experience, and something like joy
filled the bird’s brain. There was fear as well; fear at the
fragility of life, especially for one such as him. A properly
placed arrow could pluck his body from the sky and send it
plummeting. Despite this, he descended from his lofty realm and
alighted on a rooftop. His sharp eyes detected movement at one of
the castle windows. A woman stood there. She was not beautiful, but
so self-assured that it was a beauty in itself. They stared at each
other for a time and the hawk again felt the fear of the unknown,
of a fragile life, ever just one step away from death and oblivion.
A small part of him longed for that oblivion. Longed for release
from a life of constant battle, a battle that could be lessened by
the shift
-- if only he
weren’t afraid of losing himself entirely.

The woman
broke the contact and as if released from a spell, the hawk took to
the air, his strong wings taking him swiftly away from the castle
and town. A juicy rabbit was his goal before the call of the body
beckoned him back to reality…whatever that was.

Vard muttered to
himself as he carried the dinner tray towards Princess Alecia’s
chambers. What was this anyway? Compulsion? Was she a witch? He
seemed unable to act of his own volition. It was part of his
Defender role that the vulnerable drew him when they needed help.
That must be it. The princess needed him. She was in danger, or at
least her father thought so.

He
paused outside her room, his emotions still turbulent. The shift
should have helped, but it hadn’t. He took several deep breaths to
calm his heart, which beat far quicker than it should, and forced
his mind to focus on the job at hand. He would deliver the
meal,
and get out of
there.

Vard
knocked on the door. The princess opened it, drawing on a thick
cream robe
-- but not
before he glimpsed the pale blue nightgown that hugged her full
breasts and fell in layers to the floor. Flaxen hair cascaded
around her shoulders. He frowned at the tightening in his
loins.

She drew
herself up when she saw the expression on his face. “I hardly
expected you to deliver my meal, Captain,” she said, taking the
tray and placing it on a small table just inside the door. She made
no move to allow him entry.

His gaze
swung past her into the room. Most young women would not have the
lights this low. “I happened to overhear your request for a meal in
your rooms and thought I could ensure that you were well at the
same time.” He turned back to her, his arousal deepening despite
the layers that stood between them. He clutched the amber stone at
his throat and her eyes followed as though mesmerized. No! It was
not the princess but he who was hypnotized.
This woman intrigues me, but
why?
He couldn’t allow
her to trap him. Despite his resolve, he stepped closer. She was
not beautiful but she radiated…something. Perhaps she
was
a witch; like the old woman of
yesterday.

“Thank you for
the meal. Do not let me keep you from your rest.”

Her words
broke the spell and Vard bowed to her, intending to depart, but
some power held him in her presence. What did she want of him?
Somehow he had to distract himself. “How did you do it,
Princess?”

“I do not know
what you mean.” He heard tension in her voice.

“You managed
to elude me this morning to go riding with the squire.”

“You do not
guard me as closely as you may think, Captain. Perhaps you fell
asleep.”

Vard
stepped over the threshold, forcing her to retreat. “I did not fall
asleep!” His eyes searched her face, trying to find that which drew
him against his will. Despite his enhanced sight, he simply could
not see her well enough in this gloom. “You will
not
put yourself at risk again. I
must accompany you each time you leave this castle.”

“You and my
father would have me live like a bird in a cage. I have been free,
and I do not wish to have my wings clipped.”

“It’s no
concern of mine what you wish, Princess.” Vard said, distracted by
the play of emotions over her features. In the half-dark, they were
even more intriguing.

Her eyes
sparked and narrowed as she took a step towards him, her hand
raised to slap his face. A tingle ran through his body as his hand
closed on her wrist. A blush appeared on her cheeks. Was it really
anger she felt? Or something else?

Her lips
parted slightly before pressing into a firm line. “Unhand me,” she
said, tugging at her trapped arm.

Before
Vard could stop himself, his right arm looped around her waist
inside the dressing gown and he yanked
her to him until their faces were only inches
apart. Her rose perfume filled his nose and his heart beat a little
faster as the heat of her body infused his. Her eyes widened and
the muscles of her throat tightened as she swallowed, however Vard
could discern no real fear. Was it bravery or was she simply too
naïve to panic?

“You are as
bad as he,” she said, sounding breathless. Perhaps there was fear
after all. Then she straightened her shoulders and her tone grew
bolder. “I have a life to live and I do not see why you or my
father should dictate to me.”

Vard barely
heard a word she said. He released her wrist and let his hand slide
across the velvet of her skin. His left thumb massaged a lazy
circle against the silken fabric at her waist and his eyes fell to
her lips, slightly parted in her agitation. How he was drawn to
them. Vard raised his eyes to Alecia’s and again felt a stab of
recognition. He tossed the thought aside, growling low in his
throat. His head dipped, wanting to taste her mouth more than
anything. Alecia’s eyes widened a second before she shoved against
his chest.

The spell was
broken.

Vard
stared, conscious of his racing heart.
Her
heart beat a quick staccato -- and, again, there
was something familiar in it. Perhaps they had met in a former
life. Defenders could be reincarnated just as humans could. He
swallowed hard, his gaze trapped by her hands as she smoothed her
gown.

“
I do
not think my father had
that
in
mind when he handed my safety to you.” Her pupils were so huge that
Vard could not have guessed at the color of her eyes, even in good
light. He drew a ragged breath.

“I’m sorry,
Princess,” Vard said, taking a backwards step. “I don’t know what
came over me. I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my
transgression to your father.”

Alecia stared
at him as if she couldn’t believe what he said.

“If you’ve no
further use for me,” he said, “I’ll leave you to your rest.” When
the princess remained silent, he bowed and pulled the door closed.
Vard had no further awareness until he arrived back in his room,
panting as if he’d run a mile.

He shut
the door and slid to sit against the solid wood, his legs suddenly
unable to hold him.
Forbidden fruit
.
That must be the attraction. He loathed Prince Zialni -- what
better way to hurt the prince than to seduce his daughter? Vard
shook his head. He deluded himself because it was easier than
admitting the unthinkable. He was drawn to Alecia Zialni. She
intrigued him, aroused him and, more than that, he admired her.
Alecia had imprinted herself on him and her scent, her very self,
had seeped into his being. No woman had ever had the potential to
control him until now and he couldn’t allow it to
continue.

It was time to
take action on the task that had brought him to Brightcastle. Kill
the prince, and he could leave Brightcastle and the disturbing
princess behind him.

Vard knelt in the
shadows of the hallway, senses fixed on the sluggish heartbeat of
the guard who sat slumped against the wall.
Not long now.
The beats slowed, the breaths
coming so infrequently that on first inspection the unfortunate
sentry would appear dead. He’d recover without adverse effects, the
curious properties of the poison wiping all memory, timed to wear
off before the next shift took over.

Vard glided
from shadow to shadow up to the prince’s door and entered without a
sound. Gentle snores came from the bedchamber and Vard suppressed a
small snort. This would be so easy: smother the prince in his
sleep, make it appear he had died of natural causes; wait a
respectable amount of time to allay suspicion, resign his
commission after the funeral and leave Brightcastle forever.

Vard stood
before the prince’s bed, a thick pillow grasped before him, and
pulled an absorbent cloth, soaked in surgeon’s ether, from his
pocket. First the rapid-acting sleeping sponge over the mouth and
nose, then the pillow to cut off all air. There would be a short
struggle but his strength was superior to Zialni’s. He wouldn’t
fight long and Brightcastle would be free.

He frowned.
What of the princess? Her brilliant smile shone in his memory and
he shoved it from his thoughts. The princess would mourn and move
on. Zialni had spoken of an arranged marriage and, according to
law, Alecia’s husband would rule until her first son was old enough
to take over. Things were bound to improve in Brightcastle, and for
Alecia as well.

Wouldn’t
they?

But he had
seen triumph turn to tragedy more than once in the past. Had seen
one tyrant deposed, only to watch as another rose to take his
place.

He
raised the cloth, poised to clasp it over Zialni’s face, ready to
suffocate the life from another soul.
It was right!
Wasn’t it? The wolf in him growled. He
grasped the pillow and cloth in one hand and gripped the talisman,
forcing his unease to quieten, his heart to slow, his tumbled
thoughts to still.

Do it! Now!
His
limbs failed to move and Zialni’s peaceful snores mocked his
intent. The man deserved death. He had sent others to theirs. The
deed rested well with his Defender goal to protect the innocent by
whatever means.

Still,
the fate of the princess nagged at him. He saw her face,
tear-streaked, fixed on a coffin; met her accusing stare as she
blamed him for the death. Something in Vard held him fast. This
wasn’t the time. He felt it so strongly it was like a voice in his
head.
Go
back.

He left the
prince’s chamber, replacing the pillow as he went, the cloth tucked
back in his tunic. The guard still slept, his breathing a little
quicker than it had been. As Vard reached the castle entrance, he
was gripped by a sudden urge to run. The creature within needed to
be free, to escape the confines of man. He slipped through the
front door, his mind on the wolf, human troubles dropping away to
the call of the wild.

Alecia remained
frozen for several minutes after the captain’s departure. The heat
of his skin had surely left its mark? She looked down at her right
wrist but his fingers had left no brand. Had he been about to kiss
her? She raised her fingers to her lips and shook her head. She was
losing her wits over this man.
How dare he lay hands upon me
again
!
Alecia had to keep him at a distance for if he continued to
behave like
that,
she might
not have the strength to rebuff him.
Or the will
.

She
clamped down on that thought, the flush of shame firing her
cheeks.
Jorge does not deserve this!
No matter how quickly she banished them, memories
of the ‘almost kiss’ returned, along with the crush of his hard
body against hers. Her reaction to the captain confused her. He
should be nothing to her and yet from the very first contact there
had been something… some connection between them that scared her.
He stirred feelings she had never experienced with Jorge. Was it
just that the captain was a tough man of action while Jorge had
been a gentleman? The thought of her lost love and his devotion to
her brought a heavy wash of remorse.
He is barely cold in the ground and here I
am lusting over another!