The Rose of Shanhasson Page 13

  For the remaining hours till daybreak, he held her, listening to the bond, guarding her dreams from danger. Darkness hunted her, doubts tormented her, and she fought him at every turn. She rejected his tenderness, pushed him to dominance and aggression, shredded his heart with a word or look. Yet he felt the connection between them, soul deep and searing. He knew in his heart she was na’lanna, and he feared for her. How could he battle the Endless Night and her doubts at the same time?

  She craved his blood and his body. If only she craved his love.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The morning ride passed uneventfully. Shannari tried not to think about last night. The nightmare. The blood. She stole a careful glance to the left, trying to see where Gregar rode without being obvious.

  The wretched Blood winked at her. He rode closer today than at any time yesterday. On their right, Varne rode like a silent thundercloud. Every time she glanced at him, he glowered and trotted ahead. Only to fall back because Gregar never left, and for whatever reason, Varne refused to let the other Blood remain close to Khul if he wasn’t there.

  At her back, Rhaekhar wasn’t much better. Reserved and contemplative, he said very little all morning other than his insistence that she learn as much of his language as quickly as possible. The dynamics were obvious to someone trained in politics, although the details and wherefores escaped her. Somehow, she’d offended Varne, and Rhaekhar and Gregar felt some obligation to her, both of them, which the other Blood despised.

  It must be because she’d stabbed Gregar. Perhaps she should stab the other Blood and see if that put him in a better mood.

  Varne growled beneath his breath while Gregar laughed as if she’d made a great joke. “You can stab me again whenever you wish, but I wouldn’t recommend trying Varne. His blood is not nearly as tasty as mine and Khul’s.”

  Shannari lifted her chin higher, although she couldn’t stop the flush from staining her cheeks. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “The Blood bond.”

  Blessed Lady above, did they hear every thought in her head? Her pulse fluttered uneasily. Rhaekhar’s invasive bond was bad enough. If the Blood listened inside her head, she might just draw the sword and prepare to fight to the death. “You’re my… my… Blood now?”

  Varne snarled what must be a Sha’Kae al’Dan curse and galloped ahead. Gregar laughed so hard he nearly fell off his horse.

  It was true. Grasping the hilt of her sword, she tried to blank her mind. Perhaps irrational, but Rhaekhar’s silence infuriated her. “Why aren’t you doing something?”

  “What would you have me do, na’lanna? My word is law on the Plains, but the Blood are a law among themselves.” Laughing softly, he tightened his arms around her and rubbed her cheek with his. “Only Khul has Blood, and Gregar is mine. Each of the Blood feels me through my blood sacrifice, and so they feel you through our na’lanna bond. Even Varne.”

  He hesitated, sharing some silent look with Gregar that she couldn’t decipher. “Gregar shares a blood bond with you separate from mine now. If you wish, you should be able to feel him. Like you feel me.”

  The last part came out rather choked to her ears. She did feel Rhaekhar, na’lanna bond or some other reason. Now, she swore she felt a surge of… of… jealousy from him. The thought made her heart go cold and heavy in her chest.

  My beloved. Did Gregar think that she…

  Everything she touched was ruined and corrupted. What if she tore Rhaekhar and his Blood apart? What if they came to blows over some foolish jealousy, when she could never love either of them?

  “What is meant to be, will be,” Gregar said, daring to touch her hand where it clutched a handful of mane. She’d never seen the joking Blood so solemn. “No matter how we may wish otherwise. I’m bound with honor, now. Khul’s honor, his very blood. I shall not fail him, and I shall not fail you.”

  His words tickled her memory of the horrible dream last night. “Shadowed Killer.”

  “Aye.”

  His voice sent cold chills down her spine. She reached down and gripped the hilt of her sword, but she didn’t draw it. If a knife to the heart didn’t kill him, she didn’t figure a sword would do much good unless she took his head. Staring into his dark, gleaming eyes, she didn’t want to try. She wasn’t afraid, not really. “What is your heart’s desire?”

  He laughed, but pain cramped across the scar on her chest, matching his. She could feel him. Stunned, she held herself very, very still.

  “Something I can never have.”

  Rhaekhar dropped his chin against her shoulder, hugging her. “We shall see, my friend. You have my acceptance and my approval.”

  Gregar actually looked surprised, and then a genuine smile spread across his face. Despite the warrior behind her who swore his love and honor were unshakeable, she felt something fragile unfurl deep inside her while staring into the Blood’s bottomless eyes. Jerking her gaze away, she refused to look at him.

  “My blood is yours, Khul. And my blood is yours, Shannari, any time you wish. However— ”

  Another pain stabbed through her chest and she flinched. Rhaekhar tightened his arms, holding her close to his body, but the jealousy was gone. He held her for comfort, not possessively, which made no sense to her whatsoever.

  “I can never have my heart’s desire. I would rather be dead than risk it.” With that, Gregar’s black horse shot ahead and passed Varne.

  Her eyes burned, her throat tightened, and for Leesha only knew what reason, she wanted to call after him. Come back, stay with us, never ever die.

  “Such honor,” Rhaekhar whispered. “Such sacrifice. You have chosen well, na’lanna.”

  Bewildered, upset, even angry that she felt so badly and didn’t understand why, Shannari craned her head around to look back at him. Immediately, he lifted her, turning her so she sat in his lap and could easily search his face.

  What she saw there made even less sense. He was pleased, if the smug smile was any indication. “I don’t understand.”

  Smiling wider, he tugged gently on her braid and pressed a light kiss to her lips. “Give us time to explain, then.”

  “Explain what? Why can’t you just tell me? It was an accident. Stabbing him, his blood, everything. I won’t— ”

  He shushed her by stroking his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip. “Take his blood. Every single time he offers it, you take it. He’s worthy of the honor, and so are you. I’m warrior enough to allow it. Nay, I encourage it.”

  Wordlessly, she shook her head. Tasting Gregar’s blood had been a mistake. She shouldn’t even taste Rhaekhar’s. She knew it, but she couldn’t resist it when he offered. Weak, she was too weak, and needy, and, oh, Blessed Lady above, just sitting like this was enough to stir her lust again.

  His nostrils flared and his burnished gold eyes flared like the sun. “Are you telling me that you don’t want my blood? That you don’t want me?”

  Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. Lie, court her enemies, even kill, all activities she was willing to do to claim the High Throne and save her people. But she couldn’t find it in her poor, crippled heart to lie to this barbarian. “You know I do.”

  “Then don’t lie to me about Gregar. More, don’t lie to him or yourself.”

  His big hand clamped on the back of her neck, hauling her closer for a soul-searing kiss that left her draped all over his magnificent body and regretting how many hours must pass before nightfall.

  “I love you, na’lanna. What you need, I need. What you want, I want. You already carry a piece of Gregar in your heart. You’re tied to him by his sacrifice and his blood. If you want anything from Gregar, anything at all, then my honor— our honor— demands nothing less than that you will take it.”

  She must be entirely mistaken. He could not possibly mean that she… that he… let alone the wicked, laughing Blood… Heat flared across her face and it was all she could do not to squirm on the barbarian’s lap. She’d never thought of Gregar in such
a way. Let alone that Rhaekhar would… would…

  Chuckling, he picked her up and swung her back around. “Anything at all, na’lanna. Now, take your first look at the Sea of Grass.”

  The warhorse trotted up the crest of the hill, and Rhaekhar drew rein. All her uneasiness and turmoil fled as she gazed at his homeland in wonder.

  Rolling hills of tall golden grass stretched as far as she could see. Clouds filled the wide, azure sky, casting shadows like horses galloping across the hills. The air was hot but not as dry as the desert, and the aroma coming up from the waving grass smelled like baking bread, just like Rhaekhar. Warm, rich, nutty, something fresh and tasty to sink her teeth into.

  He made that low growling rumble of pleasure against her ear, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. “You tease me, na’lanna, and never fulfill such a delightful threat.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He sighed dramatically. “Shannari, how many times have I said that you cannot hurt me? The thought of your teeth drives me insane.” Emphasizing his words, his erection ground into her back. “Bite me all you want.”

  Pushing back against him, she suddenly regretted the leathers covering her skin, preventing her from feeling the full breadth and might of him. “Maybe I’ll make up for it tonight.”

  Instead of rising heat, she felt a surge of caution through the bond. Why would he be cautious after driving her crazy with his kiss and the hard proof of his need?

  “I need to speak to you about Camp.”

  “All right,” she replied slowly. “You mentioned tents before. Don’t worry, I’ve spent plenty of time in the field. I’m not going to fall apart like a spoiled noble who’s never gone without three-course dinners or a bath for a few days.”

  Rhaekhar didn’t immediately respond. He urged his horse into a smooth, rocking canter down the slope. So tall, the grass came well up the mighty stallion’s chest. The breeze rippled the swaying grass until it really did resemble waves upon the ocean. The Sea of Grass. She could easily imagine her outlander ancestors hiding in the grass, waiting until dark to set the fires and steal the magnificent herd.

  “Don’t worry about a lack of bathing. Our steamtents will be different, of course, but you may actually prefer them.”

  His seriousness didn’t bode well. “I know very well that you bathe regularly, Khul. You smell better than any noble I ever met in Shanhasson.”

  Still, he didn’t laugh. “It will be very different in Camp. Different than what you’re used to.”

  “I know.” Blessed Lady, how bad could it be? “So, what’s so terrible you don’t want to tell me? You howl at the moon? Run stark naked through the tents? I’ve seen it all. Soldiers always do bizarre things after surviving battle.”

  Pressing his mouth to her neck, he whispered huskily, “You can run through my tent stark naked any time you wish.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she retorted, shrugging him away. “Tell me before we get there so I’m prepared.”

  He heaved a long sigh again. “You’re an outlander.”

  “Really,” Shannari said dryly. “That’s the huge secret?”

  “My people may not welcome you as heartily as I wish. At least initially. Never fear, though, na’lanna. I’m Khul and my word is law. In time, they will accept you, for I allow no other alternative.”

  She rolled her eyes at his arrogance. “People never like me much. As long as they don’t try to kill me, then I don’t really care one way or the other.”

  Fury roared through the bond, and he crushed her against his rock-hard body. “No one would dare lay a hand on you.”

  “Everybody wants me dead sooner or later.” She let him hold her without trying to break his grip. It felt nice to be protected for once, even if she didn’t need it. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll try not to insult anyone, but most people react more like Varne than you when they meet me.”

  Finally, Rhaekhar laughed and eased his punishing grip. “Promise me one thing, na’lanna. Don’t try to chop any other warrior’s head off when first you meet.”

  Her answer was a jab with her elbow hard enough he actually grunted. “You deserved it.”

  “Aye, I did. There’s more you should know, too much for me to explain, for there is my Camp now.”

  Indeed, riders raced toward them from a huge encampment of multi-colored tents nestled between hills. So many; she’d had no idea the Camp would be so large. A herd of grazing horses dotted the hills beyond the hundreds of tents.

  “Usually my Camp is not so very large unless we are riding to the Summer Gathering. This is representative of four Camps. Mine and Drendon’s are the largest of the Nine. Even now, this is not all of our tents. Some were too deep in the Plains to come quickly when I sent messengers calling for warriors.”

  Her mind whirled with possibilities and political ramifications. “You can call warriors from all the Camps?”

  “Not exactly. When the Nine Camps are united as we were before the Fire, then aye, I will be able to call hundreds of fists from all Camps. Now, though, I limit my request to my three strongest allies. These khuls are in agreement with me, and readily gathered tents.”

  “Each Camp has a Khul?”

  “Each Camp has a khul who leads their tents. I am khul of my Camp. As Khul of all Nine, I try to unite us as much as possible, resolve disputes, and strengthen our numbers of na’kindren and warriors in preparation for the Last Days.”

  “How many Camps stand against you?”

  “Only three openly.” Rhaekhar shrugged and turned his attention to the riders sliding to a halt before them. “Do not worry, na’lanna. I have more than enough warriors of my own to repel any who challenge me.”

  The warrior saluted with fist over his heart. “Khul, welcome home!”

  “All is well, I hope?”

  “Aye, Khul. Your Camp most anxiously awaits the stories of your victory.”

  “Shannari, this is my Second, Casson. Casson, this is na’lanna Shannari.”

  The warrior’s eyes widened with surprise, but he nodded to her politely. “Welcome to Khul’s Camp, Shannari.”

  They rode onward to the tents, Casson filling Rhaekhar in on various Camp duties, most of which went over her head. So many na’kindren in training, so many warriors arrived after he left for the Green Lands, so and so would ask for a kae’don to decide water and grazing rights.

  More and more people came out of the tents. They welcomed their Khul with wide happy smiles and cheers until they took note of her. Confusion, then reserve guarded most of their expressions. A few took on a harder look more like Varne’s. Though the Fire had happened over a hundred years ago, they remembered all too well what damage outlanders wrought.

  The most open disapproval came from the khuls Rhaekhar introduced. While Brenn gave her a hearty smile, she saw through his veneer of civility easily. He was a merchant at heart, and she could see the wheels and scales adjusting in his head even while he nodded and smiled. The other khul, Tomai, jerked his head once, then whirled and walked away as quickly as possible.

  Rhaekhar swung down off his horse and lifted her down beside him. As soon as she was down, he turned to another waiting warrior and actually hugged him. The two mighty warriors laughed, pounding each other on the back. Thankfully, by the time he turned back to her for introductions, she had managed to wipe the amused shock off her face.

  “This khul is Drendon, my very good friend, and his mate, Alea. He is like a brother to me. While my Camp is First, his Camp is a very close Second of the Nine. Drendon, my friend, this is na’lanna Shannari.”

  Eyebrows raised, eyes guarded, the warrior nodded to her and also introduced his mate formally. Alea immediately offered to show her to the steamtents, for which Shannari was grateful. She grabbed her small bag from one of the Blood and followed the tall brunette deeper into Camp.

  Despite such a rousing display of loyalty and friendship, she couldn’t help but wonder. If Drendon’s Camp was a close Sec
ond, there must be some undercurrent of maneuvering, no matter how subtle, to make his own Camp First of the Nine. If something happened to Rhaekhar, would Drendon become Khul? She decided to ask some careful questions and find out.

  * * * *

  Water sizzled and steam rose up so thick and moist in the tiny tent that Shannari could hardly breathe. Steamy heat sank into her skin, easing her muscle soreness from the unaccustomed hours in the saddle. Unusual by her Green Land standards, but the steam was quite nice. It also helped to hide the scars. In the past, she had accepted a maid only if the girl didn’t visibly flinch or pass out when her mistress stripped for a bath.

  “I hope your journey across the blasted lands wasn’t too unbearable,” Alea said. She offered what she might think resembled an encouraging smile, but her disdain was obvious.

  Shannari shrugged casually. “Hot. Dusty. But not unbearable.”

  “This must be very different from what you’re used to.”

  She merely smiled.

  It must not have been a very pleasant smile, for the false one Alea wore slipped. Her gaze sharpened, as if she was only now realizing the outlander might be a more worthy opponent.

  “Don’t tell me you believe all Green Landers are sneaky, weak, deceitful wretches.”

  Alea blinked innocently. “Aren’t they?”

  Unbraiding her hair, Shannari laughed. “Yes, actually, most are, unfortunately. Other than my father and Our Blessed Lady’s priests, I wouldn’t trust a Green Lander further than I could throw him.”

  “And you, Shannari. Are you trustworthy?”

  She felt her face blank into the careful, cold mask she wore for politics. “If I give my word, yes. I’m here now only because I gave my word to your Khul that I would come with him as long as my people were spared.”

  “So Khul demanded you come with him.”

  Watching the other woman to see how she used a small dipper to pour hot water over her hair, Shannari nodded. “It’s a long story, one I’m sure he’ll want to brag about tonight.”