Protector of the Flight (33 page)

Calli
turned to face everyone, Marrec warm and solid at her back. “You think
the…Dark…knew somehow that I might fly to fight?”

“That
this was a trap like those inside the Castle?” asked Alexa, her green eyes very
wide as she fixed her gaze on Lady Hallard.

The
Lady shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Another
trap, sprung because someone in the Castle is in touch with the Dark forces,”
Alexa said. “To try and destroy Calli.” She lifted her nose, sniffed.
“Retrousse makes a place smell different.”

“It
would be interesting to know the history of this land,” Marrec said. “How many
battles were fought here throughout the ages.”

“The
landowner and most of her people are dead,” said Faucon, joining them. “I was
just speaking with the woman’s page. Not even her squire survived.” Marrec’s
arms tightened around Calli’s waist, making her nausea worse. She struggled
against him. He flinched, then let her go. Clammy sweat filmed her skin. She
turned her head, strove not to vomit.

Alexa
shoved an unstoppered canteen in her hand. “Drink this. Bespelled mint water.
It’ll help.”

The
liquid was cool down her tight throat, tasted good, but now she had the pale
shakes.

“You
don’t look so good, girlfriend,” Alexa said.

“Home.”
Calli backed closer to Marrec until his body was once again against hers as she
looked up at his square jaw. “I want to go home. A coupla days ago the staff
said the house would be ready by now. I want to go home.”

Lady
Hallard frowned. “We should have a war council on this.”

Alexa
and the rest of the Marshalls nodded.

“Do
it without us. You can tell us of the results later.” Last thing she wanted to
do was fly back to the Castle to sit inside for an hours-long meeting.

“Bastien,
can we keep Sunray overnight?” Marrec asked.

“Of
course,” Bastien said.

Sunray,
would you fly with us to our new home?

Yes!
Sunray lifted
his wings in excitement.

“Burning
dreeth is almost out,” Bastien said. “Storm’s coming in. The rain’ll take care
of the rest of the flames.” He gestured to the clouds rolling in, big and puffy
and dark gray.

“The
local manor is available if we want to stay the night. War council there,”
Faucon said.

“Guess
we’d better,” Bastien said.

Lady
Hallard snorted. “I hope they have minstrels who know the local history.”

“Or
Lorebooks,” Alexa said. She reached out and grabbed Bastien’s hand, her smile resigned.
“I’d like to go home, too, but it looks like we’re staying.”

Marrec
nodded shortly. “We’ll be back midmorning tomorrow to harvest the dreeth, since
only those who killed it can do so.” He lifted Calli, waved at Dark Lance to
back up, then set her atop Sunray. “Let’s go.”

He’d
said those words earlier, to go to fight, and she’d agreed and followed him.
She found his hands and squeezed, bringing his gaze to hers. He yearned for
home, too, that Song rose from him. She replied as she thought she’d reply for
the rest of her life. “We’ll go together.”

Raindrops
splattered around them. The edge of the storm had reached them.

C
alli entered
their home. Marrec stared at it, disconcerted. A large three-story mansion of
gray stone, it was far beyond what he’d ever aspired to and he wondered if he’d
ever feel comfortable in it. He snorted.
He’d
feel more at home in the
three-room shed off the stable that was the size of the cottage he grew up in.

But
only he and she were here from the Castle. It was safe, and that was the most
important thing.

Squaring
his shoulders, he walked through the door with a trace of swagger that he
borrowed from Bastien. He wouldn’t let the imposing house erode his
self-confidence. This was
his
home. If he hadn’t been worthy of this place,
Thunder wouldn’t have pushed Calli and him to choose it. Those words came far
too often to his mind. He’d soon have to shake off this doubt or others would
see it. That could erode the respect he’d garnered just from being Pairbonded
with Calli. He was a good Chevalier, now he needed to become a
great
Chevalier. Clenching his jaw, he vowed to be up to the task.

This
time the door opened smoothly on oiled hinges. The entry hall was clean, though
some of the stone squares making up the floor showed scars and pits. The wide
stone banister was equally worn.

But
the floor and banister were polished, the walls painted a soft cream color.
He’d wanted whitewash, just to show how pristine his home was, no more living
with stains. Calli had been right, there, too, the creamy color made the place
more welcoming. The scent of mildew had been replaced by the aroma of fresh
herbs.

Calli
stood in the center of the hallway, hands on hips, turning around. He studied
her aura, her stance, listened carefully to her Song that always murmured in
his heart. She’d set the memories of the battle aside. He had no doubt they’d
return, perhaps in nightmares as his did occasionally, but for now she was
focused on the house. Their home.

The
faint footfalls of a maid came from the second floor and Marrec frowned. He’d
forgotten that they needed new rugs. Something to discuss with Calli. He’d
begun to like their talk almost as much as their sex.

“Gina’s
freshening up the bedroom for us,” Calli said, rolling her shoulders. “I’d love
a bath.”

He
sighed. This manor, like many others, had been built on land with natural hot
springs. To Calli’s delight, a fussy glass house enclosed the bathing pool,
which was surrounded by rough granite rock with green and orange lichen growing
on it, like it was outdoors. Marrec suspected that this room itself would have
sold her on the place. They’d ordered new panes to replace cracked and broken
ones, and Marrec was glad it was summer.

“I’m
sure that the shower in our suite has been repaired,” he said. “Bath.”

“Since
it’s just the two of us.”

She
flushed a little, and that was as fascinating as usual. “Yes. Since it’s just
the two of us. I told my maid not to interrupt us.” Her cheeks pinkened further
and his body stirred.

“Good.”

“There’s
stew for dinner.”

“Good.”

She
sighed, glanced around again. “Not quite home yet, but we’ll make it one.”

“Yes.”

M
arrec lay in bed
listening to Calli’s even breathing. The house was quiet. He was used to the
muted bustle of Horseshoe Hall, of Lady Hallard’s manor, but since neither
Calli nor he was accustomed to servants, they had kept their staff at a
minimum. Only four lived in the house, and the aged caretaker in a gatehouse.

Calli
had inspected the stables with space for both volarans and horses. Unlike the
stables at the Marshalls’ Castle, this one alternated large stalls for volaran
and horse. That was the setup Marrec liked the best, and Calli had listened to
his advice and agreed. If anything happened to the stables, the volarans might
be able to save the horses if they were all together. He’d followed Calli as
she scrutinized the work they’d paid for on the horse paddocks and arena, the
volaran space, the other outbuildings. For both of them these had been the
priority, even more than the house or hiring servants.

The
long slow note of the mountains sifted into him. It had been a long time since
he’d lived near mountains. Dread had clenched his gut when he’d seen that their
valley was bordered on three sides with peaks. They weren’t quite the size of
the great northern range, of the peaks he’d loved as a child…before. Another
thing he was determined to become accustomed to. He’d cherished the sight of
sunrise and sunset colors on white-capped mountains once, he must not let the
past continue to take that joy from him. He’d relearn it. And with another
level of acceptance of his new future, he slid into sleep.

Something
woke him. A sound, a Song, he thought. He strained to listen. The rain poured
outside the window, splattered against the panes as the wind shifted, dripped
from the eaves. No pings from frinks. That was good.

Gardpont.
The mental call
didn’t tell him much—a rough male whisper edged with desperation. Marrec slid
from the bed and pulled on his trousers, shrugged into a shirt and drew on his
old boots, buckled his knife belt.

Dark
Lance whinnied with fright, demanding reassurance from Marrec.
Someone
comes.

Easy.
Sense him for me, check if you recognize his Song.

At
Marrec’s quiet tone, the volaran settled. Cocked his ears, sniffed. Marrec
hurried from the suite. Stopped. Turned and locked the door. Shielded it with
the best protection spell he had.

Now
Sunray, closer to the stable doors, sent him jittery images.
I don’t know
him.

I
have heard this man’s Song before,
Dark Lance said.
But he is not
happy…and there are two Songs.

By
this time Marrec was at the door nearest the stables, putting on a slicker
cape, grabbing one of the new cowboy hats Calli had given him. He stepped into
the rain, sending a widespread probe for danger. Vague movement, black against black,
a man stumbling, a thin cry, made his belly tense. He fingered the hilt of his
knife. Looking away from the stables, he hummed a lightball spell.

The
other exclaimed in surprise. Hit the stable wall with his shoulder. Leaned
there. “Gardpont?”

“I’m
here.” His eyes now accustomed to the dim light, Marrec saw the man huddled in
a royal-blue cape, his arms full of a bundle. “Who are you?”

“Gentral.”

The
tension at the base of Marrec’s spine eased. He’d flown into battle with the
minor noble. “What are you doing here?”

“Got
a baby for you.”

“What!”

“Heard
you and your bondmate—the new Exotique—were interested in adopting. My old
mistress just told me I had a daughter…shook me down for blackmail. Hadn’t seen
her for more’n eighteen months, simply been sending her a stipend. She wanted
more for the kid. Or didn’t want the kid at all.” His breaths were pants, more
from anxiety than exertion, Marrec thought.

Gentral
continued, “She has a farm just over the spur. Infant hasn’t been treated well.
I thought of you.”

“We’re
not ready—”

“Can’t
take the youngster back, not good for her there. Can’t take her home, my wife
would gut me, harm the child.” He laughed harshly. “I have a wife. A dynastic
marriage, you know. Stuck with her. Not lucky like you. Won’t ever be able to
Pairbond. All I wanted was a little ease.”

Marrec
walked to where Gentral stood in the dark shadow from the roof overhanging the
stables. The noble’s eyes were wild, his face drawn with anger and distress. He
held a bundle in stiff arms, then opened a smelly blanket to show the thin face
of a young child with a dark bruise on one cheekbone. Her black hair stuck out
in all directions. Marrec didn’t know much about children, but enough to know
this one was less than a year old and puny. He made no move to take her.

“I
won’t—”

“I
saved your skin last year. This is payback.
I
won’t take her. You want
kids. You owe me. We all win.”

“Marrec?”
Calli called. Her squelching footsteps came toward them.

“Here!
For the love of the Song, don’t tell her who I am!” Gentral thrust the baby
into Marrec’s arms, turned and ran off with a ground-eating stride. Marrec
stood helplessly, holding the babe, her big black eyes fixed on his face. He
knew without a doubt that the moment Calli saw the child, heard her circumstances,
he’d have a daughter. It was too soon to start a family, he hadn’t even gotten
the rhythm down of being a husband, a Pairling.

Merde.

“What’s
wrong? I see someone running. Dark red aura. Did we have an intruder?”

“Not
exactly.”

A
volaran’s whinny rose in the night, the beat of wings.

Calli
scowled as she joined him, head tilted. “I don’t think I know that volaran.”

Marrec
couldn’t recall whether Gentral had been at the Castle when she’d been
Summoned. He didn’t think so.

The
little girl coughed. Her tiny fingers flexed around the blanket edge. Calli
froze beside him. Slowly she looked down at the small face. Her breath whooshed
out as if from a blow.

“Who’s
this?”

“An
acquaintance’s bastard. Just abandoned to us. Was told she’d been mistreated.”

“How
terrible!” She glanced down, reached out to touch the little girl’s cheek.

The
child flinched, whimpering with fear, and struggled in Marrec’s arms until he
found it easier to hold her upright against him. The little girl’s arms came
around his neck. She set her face against his throat, sniffed him. Cuddled.