Warrior (45 page)

said the first thing that came to mind.

“I am not sure, but we will soon find

out.”

***

Varian was beside his brother as the

spy spoke, and his eyes darted every

so often to his brother’s face to gauge

his reaction. Vulcan was as still as a

statue. Nothing moved. He did not

even appear to be breathing. The

flapping of the tent was the only

sound heard for minutes after the spy

finished his report. Vulcan fixed the

spy with a serious glare and told him

to return to his post in Sulan. He

dismissed Varian without turning to

look at him.

“Vulcan,

Erik

received

that

information from a greedy servant. It

could easily have been—” Varian

began, making no move to exit his

brother’s company.

Their eyes met his before Vulcan’s

voice rose above his. “Varian, you can

leave on your own or I can move you.

I’m giving you the choice.”

Varian dipped his head and stood,

giving his brother one last glance,

before he headed over to the warriors

who were using their time to hone

their skills.

For many days, Vulcan’s armies

had had been camped a few hours

ride from the Sulanese border. The

day after he’d rescued Isolde, after

Isolde had given him descriptions of

her captors, she and Mathilda had

been taken north to Morden where

they would be better protected. Erik,

who was half-Sulanese and half-

Lytherian, had walked into Sulan as

one of them, and had been spying for

them for over a week. He’d given an

estimate of the number of men in the

Sulanese army, had eavesdropped on

idle gossip amongst the drunken

soldiers, and had paid a greedy little

man well to tell him of the workings of

the castle. Every day, after every

report, Vulcan would discuss what

more he needed to know and the spy

would leave at once. Today, it did not

happen that way. But then again,

there had never been a revelation such

as what had been revealed today.

***

They had been riding but a few

hours when Tarbin noticed numerous

tents ahead of them. After Malcolm’s

last words, which had done nothing to

put him at ease, they had not spoken.

Except for the occasional glance,

Malcolm paid him no heed. Tarbin

wondered what they were to expect

from Vulcan Mor’an. They had not

met and although Jaisyn had sent

word that she did not need his

assistance, he was not reassured. His

men looked uneasy and he did not

blame them. They were riding into the

unknown.

They’d barely trotted into the camp

when a soldier approached them, his

eyes hard and calculating, his stance

coiled. He wore chain mail but no

helmet, and Tarbin could see that his

hair contained every shade, except for

silver. The fires had been lit for the

night, although the sun had not yet

finished its descent.

“What is this?” he asked in smooth,

clipped tones. His gaze raked Fallon,

whom Tarbin guessed was the soldier

in charge, and the man reported how

he’d found them and who they were.

As soon as Fallon mentioned

Malcolm’s name, the man tensed and

his right hand reached across for his

sword. Although he did not draw it,

his eyes searched Malcolm out and

when he was staring at him with

darkening blue eyes, his lips curled

into a positive snarl.

“Malcolm the Honorless,” the man

said silkily, and dipped his head in a

mock bow. “Step from your horse so

that I may give you proper greeting.”

Tarbin looked across at his friend as

his confusion grew. Malcolm had not

revealed why he’d left Lytheria but

Tarbin had always assumed that it

was because he wanted to, not

because he did something that made

him without honor.

“I am Tarbin Kataral of Mitherie,”

he found himself saying, drawing the

man’s deadly gaze from Malcolm over

to him. “I demand to know why we

are being held.”

The man dipped his head slightly,

again mockingly, and replied, “I am

sorry, Prince of Mitherie, to inform

you that your demands mean nothing

in our camp. Remove him from his

horse and bind him. The same for the

soldiers! Malcolm, will you face me

now or shall I bring forth the one who

would

take

more

pleasure

in

separating your head from your

body?”

Tarbin refused to be helped from his

horse. He came off willingly and was

not surprised when he found his hands

jerked behind him as his wrists were

bound. He shook his head in anger.

What was the meaning of this? They

were men of Mitherie.

He heard his soldiers utter curses as

they were bound as well. With that

done, the man motioned to him.

“Secure them to trees.”

***

As Vulcan’s men dealt with the

Mitherians, Malcolm jumped from his

horse, landing feet away from the

angry prince. His eyes took in the

crowd of warriors who surrounded

them—some Lytherian, most from

Morden—and he said evenly, “I have

no quarrel with you, Varian.”

“That is a shame, as I have quarrel

with you.”

A rumbling went up among the

soldiers gathered. As one, they parted

to allow someone through. Varian did

not turn as his eyes narrowed on

Malcolm. He knew immediately that

his brother was approaching them.

“What is this commotion?” Vulcan

demanded as soon as he was close

enough to Varian. His eyes measured

Malcolm warily, who eagerly returned

the favor.

“The men found them riding toward

Lytheria. No doubt to spy for the

Sulanese. The man with the silver hair

next to Malcolm is Tarbin of Mitherie.

The soldiers are his. It was a boon to

find Malcolm riding with them.”

***

Vulcan looked over to Tarbin, who

was being held by two of his soldiers,

before returning his gaze to Malcolm.

Hatred blazed from his grey gaze.

Malcolm did not shudder, nor did he

flinch.

“I take it you are the King of the

Northlands,

the

new

King

of

Lytheria?” Tarbin’s voice sounded

like a whiplash in the still evening.

His eyes moved from Malcolm to

the silver-haired prince and he nodded

once. “What is it to you, Prince of

Mitherie?”

Tarbin’s silver eyes swirled angrily.

His head tilted in disgust. Is this how

Lytheria greets her allies? By dragging

them from their horses and binding

them?”

Taken aback by that rhetoric, but

not for long, Vulcan replied tersely,

“This is how Lytheria and Morden

greet enemies,” he paused to look at

Malcolm and said, “and traitorous

cowards.” His head turned to the

soldiers holding Tarbin. “Take him

away. I will deal with him later.” They

moved silently away, followed by the

soldiers who’d bound their Mitherian

counterparts.

Those

steely

eyes

moved back to Malcolm, who

remained calm despite his situation.

“Fetch two shields, and my helmet

and broadsword. If Malcolm defeats

me in battle, he may have his life. If

not…”

He did not have to finish. Malcolm

saw his fate was simple: defeat the

king and live. The king defeats you,

you die.

As squires ran to do the king’s

bidding, Vulcan approached Malcolm.

His voice was low, so that his men

would not hear what he was to tell the

traitor. “You have betrayed your king

in more ways than one, Malcolm the

Forsworn. Not only have you reneged

on your troth of loyalty and given your

pledge to another, you have had

carnal knowledge of one above your

station, one forbidden to you! I might

have shown mercy had you not

seduced my queen right before my

eyes!”

Malcolm’s eyes widened as he said

the last part and Vulcan restrained

himself from ramming his fist into the

man’s face. He looked shocked, but

the king knew that it was a shock due

to being found out.

“I have had no carnal knowledge of

your wife. I swear on my honor,”

Malcolm said in a low voice, his eyes

fierce.

“
Honor
?” Vulcan mocked. “That is

naught to a man such as you. It is a

wonder that one of my finest generals

sired such a gutless coward for a

son.”

Vulcan would have moved away but

Malcolm continued to speak.

“Jaisyn loves you. It’s why I left

Lytheria. I am not forsworn, either. I

have sworn fealty to no other king,

because you have yet to release me

from my current oath.”

Spinning around, Vulcan walked

back over to the man. “You lie with

the grace of a snake. If my wife had

anything akin to love for me, she

would not conspire with her cousin

against me. She would not involve the

Sulanese in a fight that does not

concern them. If my wife had even

the slightest love for me, would she

betray me so? Do not answer when

the answer is obvious, traitor.” He

made to move away again but Tarbin

was speaking, and the words stilled

him briefly.

“She is being held captive in Sulan.

Against her will, against her desire.

The queen is not your enemy, and

neither am I.”

Jaisyn being held against her will? In

a castle in Sulan? Laughable. The spy

had told them of her. She dined with

the king. Laughed, smiled, and

entertained. Prisoner? No. Esteemed

guest? Yes.

He approached the soldier once

more, and looked him straight in the

eye.

“Two enemies stand before me.

Sadly, I can only kill one of you. The

other I will deal with in time.”

“Take care, King, lest you be ruled

by your heart and not your head,”

Malcolm warned in a dangerously soft

voice. “Your wife would no more

conspire against you than she would

cut off her own head. For reasons

unknown and greatly unappreciated it

seems, she values you. Tarbin and I

were heading to Neren, where we

believe Princess Isolde is being held

—”

“Isolde has been recovered and is

safe, no thanks to her scheming

sister.”

Malcolm’s blue eyes darkened

noticeably and his mouth became a

grim line in his face.

“I will take pleasure in knowing that

I no longer fight for myself but for the

queen you have so wronged in your

judgments.”

Narrow eyes gleaming hatred,

Vulcan replied, “Take pleasure in

whatever you wish. ’Tis the last you

shall feel before succumbing to the

steel of my blade.”

He moved away. The squires had

returned, and they brought with them

weapons and a new face in the crowd.

***

Malcolm looked at his father and

dipped his head in respect. Urian did

not return it. Instead, he shook his

head and turned his face away. He

swallowed. Even his father thought

him traitor. He could not blame him.

“Here ye are, sir,” the squire said as

he handed him a shield. Malcolm took

it and tested its weight. Good. It

wasn’t overly heavy. He drew his

sword from its scabbard and placed

the helmet that he’d held in his hand

on his head. Vulcan was waiting for

him when he turned. Widening his

stance, he prepared for the attack.

The sound of steel meeting steel

rang out from the camp. Soldiers who

hadn’t known of the fight came

running, and when there, watched as

the two men circled each other like