Protector of the Flight Page 13

  “Hello, Tuck,” Calli said hollowly. Couldn’t they, like, take one step that didn’t reek of magic?

  Oh, yeah, she was on her way to a Choosing and Bonding ritual that was nothing but magic.

  At that moment the red bird on Alexa’s shoulder turned her head and stared, beady-eyed and full of magic, at Calli. If you need our help in Choosing, we will give it. We promise you that we will not let you choose unwisely if you are guided by us. Tuckerinal still has some Exotique Terre in his soul. He will ensure the man you choose will be adaptable enough to love all of you.

  Oh, God. Calli wanted to turn and run, but they’d reached a wide hallway and a flood of excitement washed over her, rushing down every vein.

  They all wait for you, came a squeaky mind-voice from her left—Tuckerinal. His eyes were equally beady and he clasped his paws together and beamed at her. It’s an adventure!

  Just what she wanted. An adventure. Ha! That’s not what she wanted at all. She wanted love and a settled life, especially after all her rounds of following the rodeo circuit, of going into the hospital for yet another surgery. But here she was on Lladrana. Looked like this was one more of those situations where she’d have to live through adventure to get what she wanted. This time she hoped it worked, since her rodeo money hadn’t earned her father’s love or built the ranch she’d wanted.

  As they turned down another corridor, the anticipation in the atmosphere fizzed along her nerves. At the far end of the hall was a clump of people hanging around a doorway. Her stomach did another nervous jump. Everyone was focused on her. For once in her life she was the center of attention, the main event. She didn’t like it much. She sure wished it was over already.

  The slight babble she’d heard when they entered the hallway faded; everyone watched as they walked closer and closer. Calli saw men and women dressed in their best. They were beautiful, every one, with their golden skin, brown or black eyes, shining black hair with tints of chestnut or brown or raven’s-wing. Beautiful. They bowed or curtsied and their movements were full of grace. She didn’t recognize anyone and was frozen inside, so all she did was nod, and received huge smiles. Their teeth were good, too.

  Before they reached the door at the end of the hall, Swordmarshall Thealia flung open a door to the left. A narrow, rougher stone corridor curved in a huge arc.

  “This is the northwest round tower of the keep,” Marian said, “the oldest part of the Castle. It’s on the same side of the keep, the west, as Alexa’s tower.”

  “Uh-huh,” Calli said, as if she cared.

  They walked around nearly a good half of the tower before they came to another door, this one made of wood so old it looked like it had turned to stone itself. A pattern of iron diamonds decorated it. “The door to the anteroom of the old Great Hall,” Thealia said. She hummed a couple of pretty measures and the door opened. Calli got the idea it was keyed only to her voice.

  So, could Calli run if she wanted? She eyed the other women. Would they let her run? Maybe. Could she outrun them? Probably everyone except Alexa. That one was little and quick.

  The room Calli entered was paneled in an aged and mellow wood. Lightballs shone like miniature suns, giving off a comforting yellow light. The very walls sent off an aura of peace. Calli began to relax.

  “Yes,” Clua said. “It’s a lovely place to sit.” She swept a hand to a cushioned seat under a window made of tiny glass diamond panes leaded together—so old they were tinted by the sun and showed a wavery view.

  “Nice,” Calli forced from her lips.

  “Now it is definitely time for Calli to imbibe the drink.” Thealia crossed her arms and nodded to Clua.

  “Let’s take a look.” Marian drew close to Shieldmarshall Clua and peered down at the drink. So did Tuckerinal. “It’s fine,” Marian said.

  Sit, said a serene voice in Calli’s head, Sinafinal. Calli looked down to see a beautiful calico cat—one that reminded her of a barn cat who’d lived in the ranch stables when she was a child. Calli went to the window seat and sat. She glanced out and saw a terrace and people moving on it.

  “The old Great Hall is crammed!” said a new voice. It was the young woman, Marwey, Alexa’s assistant. “There are three long tables full of items for Calli to Choose.”

  Oh, God.

  “Drink.” Now Clua was before her, offering the goblet.

  Calli looked down into the silver cup. It bubbled with more than champagne. It sparkled, too. Magic.

  Alexa leaned a shoulder against the wall, eyebrows raised. “Now or never.”

  Marian sat beside Calli, patted her hand. “It’s the best potion we could brew.”

  The cat Sinafinal hopped onto Calli’s lap, weighing much less than a real cat. Calli tangled one hand in her soft fur. The calico’s marmalade and black-and-white coat stood out against Calli’s glittering dress. She drew in a deep breath, settled herself. This is what she wanted. Take a chance. Win all.

  She grasped the goblet and drank.

  14

  “What do I want?” Marrec repeated Lady Hallard’s question. He wanted many things. Mostly to be back in the Great Hall with all the rest of the panting crowd. He cleared his throat. “Like you said earlier, a person must try and get ahead in life. I intend to take more risks on the battlefield, claim all my kills.” Negotiating with assayers’ offices, hustling, hustling, hustling, like a damn shopkeeper. “With regard to the new policy, I’d like permission to fly to all the battles, not only the ones you fight.”

  “Hmm.” She rubbed her chin. “You’re talking about the new rotation the Marshalls posted. It’s for everyone’s own good. More likely to get yourself killed if you go out for every battle. Tired. Not paired.”

  He flinched. Who would pair with a penniless man?

  She didn’t seem to notice. “We have more Marshalls, more Chevaliers, are training new classes all the time. A rotation is possible.”

  She sounded as if she’d made that very argument to the Marshalls. Who’d fought for the idea, who hadn’t? He wouldn’t care, but it affected him—as did all the new faces at the Castle, the new Chevaliers and Marshalls. With so many, there would certainly be more maneuvering for power.

  The door to the hall opened and Marwey walked in. For a moment Marrec was distracted by the teenager. Just the sight of her made him recall something that should stay in the front of his mind: the nexus of Power would center around the Exotiques.

  Lady Hallard’s eyes hooded. “I value you, as you should know. My Master of the Horse is getting on in years. I don’t want to see him fall on the field. I’d like to retire him and promote you.”

  His gut tensed and mind went a little dizzy with the opportunity spreading before him. He hadn’t thought that she regarded him more than anyone else. He gulped.

  “Excuse me,” Marwey said. “May I have your knife?”

  Absently, he unsheathed it and handed it to her, then turned back to Lady Hallard. As Master of the Horse, he would be second in command to her. He’d have to give her only a quarter of his take. He’d have his own cottage on her estate. “Shouldn’t Seeva be Master of the Horse?”

  Lady Hallard waved a dismissive hand and raised her brows. “She’s well enough off managing Horseshoe Hall. Surely you don’t think I’d put a Chevalier trainee in charge of the rest of my men and women?” Lady Hallard had used a lot of influence to have Seeva appointed to her current position. It made him wonder if she worried about her daughter fighting in the field.

  “I’ll think—” His words were lost as a group of Chevaliers flowed out onto the terrace. One of them was the very man Lady Hallard had been speaking of, her current Master of the Horse, Yan, followed by Seeva. The two joined them, Yan walking with a limp as if his joints had stiffened again.

  Lady Hallard spoke, “Yan, I’ve told Marrec of our plans.”

  The man’s face cleared. “He’s willing?”

  “You truly want to retire?” asked Marrec at the same time.

  Yan glanced
around at the increasing number of people. “The fence posts continue to fall, more horrors invade and more often, but we are building an army.” He gave a little sigh. “I will miss the action, but the odds are shortening that I’d survive the next year or so.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ll be going all out against the Dark, maybe even going on the offensive…”

  Lady Hallard opened her mouth, but Yan’s hand stopped her. Marrec envied that. Would he be able to make her listen, too?

  Continuing, Yan said, “The word in the Castle is that we’ll be finding the Dark and attacking.” He rubbed his hands. “I’d like to be in on the planning of it, but not the fighting. Bound to be the bloodiest, hardest fighting in generations, these next years.” He nodded at Marrec. “You think about it, too.”

  Marrec started to reply, when he felt the soft brush of fingers trail over his cock, accompanied by an alluring Song he couldn’t catch but strained to hear. He shot straight from his casual stance, looked around, though no one was within reach of his groin except Hallard and Yan and their hands were in plain sight. He shrugged off the sensation, dragged his attention back to the discussion. His promotion to the top of Lady Hallard’s ranks. Right.

  “I’ll think it over.” He always did. “And I thank you for the honor and believe I’ll ag—” His privates were squeezed.

  He gasped.

  Seeva narrowed her eyes. “It’s the Choosing!”

  “What?” asked Lady Hallard. She touched her pocket, swore. “Forgot to put my item on the table.”

  Shrugging, Seeva said, “It was obvious within a minute that the Exotique had no attraction to women’s tokens. That’s why most of us came out here. Still hanging around to see what happens and witness the Bonding ritual.”

  This time the invisible fingers were less tentative, they firmly stroked his erection. The top of his head might just blow off. He wiped an arm across his forehead. Suddenly the nice summer evening had become hot, hot. One last slide, up and down, had him staggering.

  An impish smile curved Seeva’s lips. “I suppose we can imagine what is happening to you. What gift did you put on the table?”

  “Marwey,” Marrec said, fumbling in his tight pocket for the stone he’d planned to place on the table. Too late. Too damn late!

  “Breathe!” ordered Lady Hallard.

  He sucked in a breath, deeper than the shallow pants he could only manage when her fingers, the Exotique’s hand, touched…“My knife.”

  “Very appropriate shape, I think,” Seeva choked out. All three of them, Lady Hallard, Yan and Seeva, laughed.

  Lady Hallard slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll miss you, boy.”

  “Not Chosen yet,” he mumbled.

  The fingers were back, running up and down his cock…the hilt of his knife, probably. A wet tongue touched the tip of him. By. The. Song. Pure fire sizzled through him, his flesh swelling until his breeches were tight. One more long, squeezing caress, one more touch of that tongue and he’d be done for.

  “Make way,” Seeva called, giving him a little push between the shoulder blades. “Get in there, you fool.” A path opened before him, more than one glance going to his flushed face, his straining trousers.

  Fingers curled gently around his balls and any hint of embarrassment fled in a firestorm of need. He stumbled forward, tripped over the tiny threshold between terrace and hall and was pushed upright by rough hands. “Watch it,” someone growled.

  He couldn’t watch anything. He bumped against the wall and leaned his shoulder on it, panting. His gaze went straight to the Exotique.

  The sight of her stunned him. She glowed like the sun, her hair already the spun gold of great Power, not needing to age into that color. She set down his knife she’d been holding in front of her face and he was profoundly grateful for the relief.

  The red mist of lust thinned and he saw why people had streamed onto the terrace. Three long tables held a multitude of offerings, but the Exotique—Calli!—hovered in the middle of the one closest to him, ignoring everything on the other two.

  Four tokens were jumbled in front of her: his knife, some purple velvet cloth, an object he stared at but couldn’t identify and a golden ring.

  She blinked and blinked again, her pupils so dilated her eyes looked black with only a brilliant rim of blue. Blue eyes. Blue dress. By the Song, she looked amazing in that dress, a dress that was cut like no robe he’d ever seen. Exotique maybe, like her. So gorgeous. So stunning. So special.

  He had a chance to Pairbond with her and the thought nearly stopped his heart. Surely this was the most fabulous, most fantastic experience of his life.

  She swayed and he wanted to run and steady her. Protect her. He strode a few paces forward; his foot crossed a force line and he hopped back, toes curling with shock in his boots. She was well protected from her suitors. He prowled back to the side of the room.

  Alexa and Marian stood on either side of Calli, steadying her. Marian indicated the knife, swept a hand toward Marrec.

  “About time,” Alexa said.

  He showed her his teeth. More than lust boiled through him. Need. Yearning.

  He glanced to a side table where there was another goblet—another aphrodisiac for her mate. Along with sharp knives and strips of pure white silk to bind arms together.

  A growl snagged his attention and he looked to his right. Faucon Creusse sent him a feral glance.

  Marrec’s ardor cooled so fast he felt the chill of sweat on his body. Unlikely he’d be able to prevail against the rich and noble and Powerful Faucon. But Marrec stood straight, gave the man a polite nod. He’d be Master of the Horse for Lady Hallard, then. With that, he could aspire to having his own land in a few years, if the fates were kind.

  His woman whimpered. Everything else faded. The lilting Song emanating from her wrapped around him like the strongest rope, trapping him, ready to be pulled in at her whim.

  Calli’s fingers fumbled at the purple velvet cloth. She picked up a floppy hat, stroked it, and a groan tore from Faucon. What sort of token was a floppy hat! Some effete thing only Faucon could cherish. Marrec sneered at the man, then felt unexpected sympathy as he saw Faucon’s shoulders brace against the wall. A trickle of sweat ran from the man’s temple. Cords stood out in his neck. With a little approving hum, Calli rubbed the nap of the hat, lifted it to her face and stroked it against her cheek.

  From the corner of his eye, Marrec saw Faucon’s body ripple with shudder after shudder.

  “Is that what you want, Calli?” Marian asked. Marrec didn’t know how he knew the foreign words she spoke, perhaps because Calli knew them and they still had a connection, his knife was still before her, with the two other tokens.

  “Maybe,” Calli said, voice thin.

  Now Marrec could see the toll the drug took. A faint sheen of sweat covered every inch of bare skin he could see, enhancing her glow. Her face was pinker than he recalled, her eyes blacker. Her nipples had hardened into nubs.

  “Maybe,” she said again. Calli held the hat in one hooked finger. Faucon had stopped shuddering, pushed against the wall he’d slid down and stood straight, shaking out his limbs. His gaze fastened on Calli.

  She slipped the ring up and down her finger and a new Chevalier Marrec had briefly met fell to the floor and arched, letting out a long moan of release. Calli stared at him, made a moue and set the ring aside.

  Marrec and Faucon shared a glance. The woman wanted stamina and control. Marrec wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Faucon grinned fiercely.

  “The little snot,” Koz said. Marrec didn’t recognize the word. One of those Exotique Terre phrases. Did Koz have all the advantage, being mostly Exotique himself? An Exotique soul in a Lladranan body? Merde.

  Calli picked up a gray metallic circle that looked like steel, but finer, stronger than Marrec ever had seen. It dangled a little charm that was completely unrecognizable. She smiled, toyed with the charm. Koz jerked straight, his head knocked back as if someone had struck him i
n the jaw.

  “Vrrrooom,” she said.

  Koz whimpered. Shook his head, and yelled strange words, “Put that down! I’m done for.” Marrec didn’t know what that meant, but she dropped the item and Koz folded to the floor in a cross-legged position, back damp and rising and falling with his panting breath. His hair had come loose from the tie and swung in front of his face. Marrec thought Koz had just forfeited his chance, too, but didn’t feel too bad. The man had a huge estate and enough zhiv to last him a lifetime. He’d been rich in Exotique Terre and had brought jewels and gold to Lladrana when he came.

  Two of them left. People began to filter back into the room; the noise level rose with interest. With bets. Marrec figured he was the long shot.

  He and Faucon eyed each other. Faucon straightened and Marrec realized he’d fallen into a slouch. He stiffened his spine, too, jutted his chin, tucked his thumbs into his pants, then looked back to Calli.

  She stood blinking down at the last two offerings. Faucon’s silly hat and Marrec’s knife. Damn, he wished he would have put in his stone! That might have given him a better chance. It might be over by now with a clean win for him instead of him standing here with sweat trickling down his back, providing speculation and entertainment for an audience.

  Calli stroked the hat. Faucon shoved back against the wall to brace himself, his jaw clenched. Her fingers left the purple velvet and closed around the hilt of Marrec’s knife.

  Song save him! Her touch was warm, caressing. Tightened around the knife, his own hard shaft. She smiled. He hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself. Then she took a stumbling step back from the table. Alexa and Marian hovered around her, questioning her in Exotique Terre language.

  Calli nibbled her bottom lip, held firmer to the knife, brought Marrec to his knees.

  “Yes,” she slurred.

  She couldn’t have chosen him!

  Lady Knight Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine’s cool gaze snagged his. “Marrec Gardpont, arise and come here for the Binding Ceremony.”