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I don’t care if I provoke Koda. I don’t care if it’s dangerous to ride without the moon. I don’t care if we risk ambush from more savages. I’ll die before I let this incursion stand.
Dying proves unnecessary however.
When we finally surround them, there isn’t even a skirmish. One of the men has a badly wounded leg, courtesy of Venna, and the other sees the futility of resistance. Even if I’m the one to put my sword through the injured man’s heart, it’s all very anti-climactic and unfulfilling. We bring back two bodies, one dead, one alive.
Upon our return to the stronghold, I want nothing more than to seek out my raven and assure myself of her safety, but realm business must come first. Finding nothing out of the ordinary in the savages’ possessions, I dutifully watch the surviving man’s torture. Much to my vexation, it proves fruitless because of the language barrier. The sun is finally coming up over the horizon when I beat on my barred bedroom door. When Ion opens it, he slips out without my having to say a word.
Rina, still half-asleep, is taken from the bed and spread out on the sheepskin in front of the fire where I eat her cunt out again and again. When I’m satisfied, I jack myself hard and come all over her splayed thighs. It doesn’t sate my hunger for her, but it does take the edge off my restlessness enough that I’m able to get a few hours of sleep.
Chapter 19
Rina
Luka remains unforthcoming about what happened after he ordered Ion to bar us behind the closed door of our chamber. All he’s willing to say is that the men sent after me will never be a problem again. What he doesn’t shield me from, though, is the meeting that happens in the map room the following afternoon. He puts me in a chair beside him as he and his high-ranking men hash out how this happened and what can be done to prevent it in the future. He broods and glowers, but holds his temper in check while toying with his dagger. Even the normally easy-going Eldon is all business. I like what I see from his men, many of whom I’ve never officially met. They fear Luka, yes, but not so much that they don’t openly voice their opinions. What strikes me the most is how Luka is the utter opposite of my cousin, the King, who operates via intimidation and coercion.
When they’re done, Eldon and Noé stay behind with us, and they go over who they think would have the nerve to send eastern savages into Mountain Lion territory. The suspects are familiar; my cousin, King Gaden, his advisor, Mattice Dulat, and Kharon, First Deve of the Realms.
Noé objects to the last name, saying there’s no way a Northman would deal with the savages, but Luka isn’t convinced and neither is Eldon. They finally leave together, Luka warning me to stay within the stronghold’s wall with a look that somehow has me blushing to the tips of my ears.
And over the next few days hisattentivenessdoesn’t diminish. In fact, it only increases. Soon I can’t even glance at his mouth without growing warm – all over. In public, he enjoys making me squirm in my seat without even saying a word. In private, his dirty words and his tongue drive me absolutely mad.
In between all the orgasms, we talk. We talk about our childhood adventures, our firsts, our favorites. Not surprisingly, Luka lives up to some of my preconceived notions of Northern men; he loves his war horse, his sword, and training. But he also loves his mother and has a weakness for sweets. This softer side of himself he only shares with Niri, and Eldon and his family . . . and now me. I’m honored and half-way in love with the big brute even if he shies away from anything that involves his emotions.
My only worry is that he hasn’t given me the one thing I’m endlessly on the verge of begging for: his cock, sheathed inside of me, where itbelongs.Since it’s constantly in my mouth, his reasons for withholding himself in this way must involve getting me with child . . . something that would create a long-term bond between us. I won’t lie. That he’s not willing to risk such a bond hurts. It’s possible that things have not progressed on his side of the equation in the same way that they have on mine.
And with everything else going on, I almost forget about Cayson Cyrun. But the day of his reckoning comes anyway.
“Tell me again how killing the deve would redeem this man,” I ask Bron, disgust and nerves jockeying for the high ground inside of me as we wait for this farce to begin. From what I can tell, almost the entire realm’s inhabitants are lining the demarcated area at the training ground. The atmosphere is fair-like and there are even a few jugglers in the center to keep the crowd entertained.
Bron scoffs, and Ion, from my other side, says, “No harm will come to the deve. Not even Eldon can best him at hand-to-hand combat.”
I blow out a heavy breath. This morning Luka had dismissed my worry as unnecessary, stating only that Cayson predictably favors his left side.
“Only Gray would have a chance,” Ion goes on, scanning the crowd for any sign of hostility toward me. I wonder how he’s filtering them because there are undeniable glares coming my way despite the celebratory mood. “And he’s left the Range.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better. Gray is Cayson’s brother. What if he decides to defend him? “But you didn’t answer my question. How would this spectacle redeem Cayson for his crimes?”
“Northern custom,” Bron explains, “allows for any man to prove he has the Mother’s favor by besting the deve in combat.”
I want to keep arguing but a small girl and her mother have drawn near. The child graces me with a shy smile and holds up a pink quartz in her grubby hand. She can’t be more than four or five years old and I crouch down to accept the gift. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’ll treasure it always.”
They dip their heads in respect. “May the Mother condemn Cayson Cyrun,” the woman whispers before she leads her child away by the hand.
“Indeed,” I murmur, slipping the stone into the pocket of my vest.
A cheer goes up from the far corner of the field where the four eastern savages’ heads have been put on display at the ends of pikes. A farmer is providing children with rotten vegetables, and one of them has hit his target, dislocating a decomposing jaw.
“Ugh,” Bron chokes.
“Come now, dearest,” Ion says with a chuckle. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t above that kind of thing as a child.”
“My brothers goaded me mercilessly,” he laments, reminding me that not only is Gray Cayson’s brother, but Bron is as well.
“I’m sorry, Bron. This must be hard for you.”
He sighs. “Honestly, I’m not all that torn up about it. My brothers and I have never been of the same mind. Only Gray ever showed me any kindness.” He arranges the cuff of his tunic as if in thought. “And that was only because our sire was dead by the time I was born, and as the oldest, he was duty bound to show me some guidance.” He reaches across me for Ion’s hand. “But now, I have you. You’re my family.”
I swivel my head in time for Ion’s reply of, “Always.”
