The Rose of Shanhasson Page 14

  Despite her dislike, Alea laughed in agreement. “Aye, warriors love to brag about themselves. We’ll sit around the fire until morning hearing all about it.”

  She scooped a handful of soft foam from a copper pot and passed it to Shannari. The mixture was slimy but sweet smelling. When the other woman coated her hair and body with the slick soap, she finally recognized the smell. Flowers, the sweet fragrance that seemed so out of place on her big barbarian.

  “Do you love him?”

  Shannari blinked, surprised by such a probing question. She decided she liked the woman’s forthright attitude much better than the false civilities she was used to in the Green Lands. However, that didn’t make her situation any easier. “No.”

  “Yet you expect him to make you Khul’lanna?”

  Putting two and two together, Shannari decided that must be the title for Khul’s mate. “I have no such expectations. In fact, I must return to the Green Lands as soon as possible.”

  “Indeed. Does Khul know this?”

  The glint in the woman’s eyes surprised her. Shannari prided herself on reading people well, but she had no idea why this woman might be angry at her honesty. Perhaps she played too openly after all. “As much as he will hear.”

  “My mate and Khul have been friends ever since they can remember. They’re as close as brothers.” Alea stood, her brown eyes snapping with fury. “I love Khul as a brother. I won’t see him hurt or dishonored, especially by some sniveling outlander lady with less sense than an addled prairie grouse.”

  Shannari laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, yes, of course I believe in your undying loyalty. Rhaekhar mentioned your Camp is a close Second, so Drendon is a close second to him, yes? You’ll use my ignorance of custom to further your own agenda.”

  Alea retorted, “What agenda?”

  “You want to be Khul’lanna.”

  The blood drained from the woman’s face and she stumbled back a step, another. She reached out, her hand flailing, and found the tent flap. “Never. You have no idea what you accuse me of. None.”

  Whirling, the woman fled, leaving Shannari even more confused. She swore the other woman had been weeping. She certainly looked horrified at the accusation.

  Rhaekhar was like a king to these people. He admitted three Camps stood against him openly, so she knew politics were a part of the Sha’Kae al’Dan lifestyle. Uneasy, she decided she needed more information to fully understand the powers at play before plucking them to suit her plans. If his own people demanded he get rid of the outlander, surely he would release her. A supremely arrogant, powerful warrior like Rhaekhar would never abdicate just to keep a woman.

  He had to release her of his own will or she’d be forced to break her word. Or worse.

  After experiencing his tenderness, the exquisite skill he used to love her, even his urging to taste his blood, she wasn’t sure she could kill him. Even though her freedom— and all of the Green Lands— was at stake.

  * * * *

  “I’m relieved your kae’don was resolved so quickly,” Drendon said, his forehead creased with worry. “Tehark has been very vocal in your absence. You will have trouble, and soon.”

  Sitting before the roaring central fire, Rhaekhar tried to concentrate on his friend. The important Plains news. His enemy. But Shannari tugged on his bond, unknowingly, aye, but distracting just the same.

  Her mind worried over competition between Camps, which she couldn’t possibly fathom yet. From the beginning, he had understood that his proud, strong warrior woman was a formidable opponent in strategy. Now, though, he could only grin and shake his head while imagining the damage she would plan for the troublesome Camps once she fully understood Plains standing.

  “I hesitate to even bring this up, Khul, but someone must. Your choice for Khul’lanna could not be worse.”

  Sharpening his gaze on his friend, Rhaekhar settled his hand on his rahke. “Any who opposes my choice may challenge me. I shall be most pleased to instruct them otherwise.”

  “You cannot possibly plan to challenge every warrior in Tehark’s Camp,” Drendon retorted. “Besides, an outlander wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

  Rage tightened Rhaekhar’s face and he clamped his jaw hard to stifle the harsh words threatening to boil out of his mouth. Always easygoing and cheerful, Drendon was fast to anger yet as ready to forgive and forget. Usually Rhaekhar was slow to anger and just as slow to forget any slight or dishonor. They balanced each other, and when the two strongest Camps were in agreement, it provided balanced leadership on the Plains.

  Unfortunately, he had never felt closer to formal challenge. Never taking his gaze from his friend’s, he let the pounding fury roll through his body, reflecting on his face a moment like a thundercloud. Then he answered in a cold, flat voice that his friend would recognize despite never hearing directed at him. “I would die for her.”

  Drendon jumped to his feet. “An outlander? What say your Blood?”

  “They have no say. My heart knows her.”

  “I was hoping you could talk him out of this ridiculous choice.” Varne heaved a sigh, shaking his head, his face grim. “Her darkness will tear us apart.”

  Rolling his ivory rahke back and forth across his palm, Gregar laughed. “Always doom and gloom, Varne. Darkness came to the Plains with the Endless Night, not Shannari. She is hunted, aye, but it is our great honor to protect her.”

  “Would you shelter Shadow within our very tents?”

  “Aye, why not?” Gregar’s teeth flashed as white as his rahke. “We shelter you, do we not?”

  Varne harrumphed and turned back to Drendon. “You can see what evil she has wrought already if Khul’s Blood fight amongst ourselves.”

  “Enough.” Rhaekhar growled, his hands tightening into fists. “I’ve heard enough from you, Varne. I understand your vision of darkness, yet Gregar is correct. If the Endless Night hunts a thing, I must save it or I can call myself no warrior.”

  “What have you seen?” Drendon asked the nearest Blood.

  “No matter,” Rhaekhar interrupted. He glared at Varne to silence him, and then his friend. “Shannari is na’lanna, and she is in danger. Argue all you wish; disagree with me if you feel the need. But you had best bring your rahke and plenty of your blood to satisfy me.”

  Growling, Drendon glared off toward his tent. “Something has upset Alea. Or someone.”

  “No guesses needed to determine who,” Varne muttered. Rhaekhar deliberately directed some of his ire through the bond, and the Blood had the grace to look embarrassed.

  “Perhaps we should sleep in my tent this night,” Rhaekhar said.

  “You would dishonor me?” Drendon whirled back around, torn between rushing off to see to his mate and arguing with Khul. “This first night in Camp, you must share our tent. If you refuse, everyone will think you’re displeased with my Camp. We would lose face. Tehark is not that far behind me, Khul. Enough dishonor, and his Camp will be Second.”

  Considering his options, Rhaekhar tried to think of a valid excuse. While his friend exaggerated the importance of opening his tent to Khul the first night back in Camp, the other khuls would indeed take note. However, all in Camp anticipated how well he would made love to Shannari this night. How many times her voice would break the night in pleasure.

  And if they were forced to share a tent with not only his Blood but others as well…

  “You could overcome her hesitations if you push hard enough.” Gregar studied the rahke in his hand, smoothing his thumb up and down the razor-sharp edge. He kept his voice low enough that Varne didn’t even look in their direction. “Pick your kae’don well, Khul, for she will certainly fight back.”

  “Aye.” Rhaekhar frowned, trying to decide how best to approach her modesty. She wasn’t shy, not exactly; she merely didn’t care for others to be a party to her emotions. She didn’t even want him to know the depth of her desire for him, let alone everyone in Camp. “Even my tent won’t be easy at first, not with Bl
ood inside.”

  Gregar laughed softly. “Only you can decide, Khul, but one or two nights of misery and whispers among your people will be put to rest soon enough when she surrenders to the need she feels for you. The kae’don of her heart must be won before you can present her as Khul’lanna.”

  “Indeed, all whispers and doubts will be set to rest soon enough.” He felt Shannari coming toward him before he noted her walking with Alea into the firelight. Louder, for both her and Drendon’s benefit, Rhaekhar added, “Aye, Shannari and I shall honor you by staying in your tent this night as custom.”

  Alea was pale, her face strained. Shannari sat beside him, her body bristling for battle. Leaning close to him, she whispered, “Then you can forget any sort of intimate activities.”

  “As you wish, na’lanna.” Her scent rolled over him, fresh and clean and sultry from her bath. It wasn’t difficult to allow an edge of need to roughen his voice. “I shall suffer this night.”

  She muttered something that he could not understand, but her emotions were obvious. As frustrated and needy as he, she trembled at his nearness. Spoiling for a battle to relieve some of the tension tormenting her, she retorted, “Every night.”

  Choosing to ignore her challenge for the moment, he asked, “Did you and Alea get along?”

  Shannari shrugged. “Well enough. I upset her, but I don’t know why. I accused her of wishing her mate was Khul instead of you.”

  Choking back appalled laughter, Rhaekhar drew her closer to his side, both to torment her and offer his protection. Drendon would not be pleased by such a slight to his honor and loyalty. “For another to be Khul, I would have to be dead. You accused her mate, my long-time friend, of plotting to assassinate me.”

  “Oh.” She thought a moment, watching the other couple. Alea laid her head on Drendon’s shoulder, clinging to him for comfort, still obviously upset. “Are they?”

  He couldn’t keep the shock off his face. “Never.”

  Hardness glinted in her eyes, her lovely face drawn and lined with weariness. Not physical, but emotional. Great Vulkar above, how many times had her trust been betrayed? Her life threatened by a friend? “I’ve learned one thing and one thing only. Never trust anybody. Ever.”

  “I would trust Drendon with your life.”

  She turned away, staring into the fire. “The only thing trust earns is a knife in the back.”

  “Or the chest?” Rhaekhar asked softly. She flinched but didn’t look at him. “You can trust me, na’lanna.”

  A grim smile curved her lips. “Of course I can. I can love you, too, yes? And not a soul here would ever dream of trying to assassinate me.”

  Cupping her chin in his hand, he turned her face back toward him. With all the fire in his blood and the love in his heart, he let his eyes blaze with emotion. Frustration, desire, rage, love. “Aye, love me. Trust me. I shall kill anyone who lays a hand on you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Varne thrust his face so close to Shannari’s that their noses bumped. His belligerent smile was viciously pleased. “You’ve dishonored Khul. He’s the laughingstock of Camp this morning, all because of you.”

  Lady, how she’d love to take this arrogant bastard down a notch or two. She’d hardly slept a wink last night. How could she with so much embarrassing, amorous activity happening just a blanket away? Her head ached abominably. “How did I dishonor him?”

  “You didn’t love him last night. All in Camp know of your disdain for him, your wicked delight in shaming him, your blatant disregard for his honor.”

  Squinting against the too-bright sun, she longed for a fresh hot cup of caffe. “Because I refused to engage in bedchamber activities last night, your Khul suffered dishonor?”

  “Exactly,” Varne retorted, his dark eyes flashing with ire and glee both. “Everyone expected him to beat Drendon last night, or at least earn a white kae’al. Instead, you refused him utterly. He will have so many challengers lining up to take a piece of his honor, he won’t have a hand’s span of unscathed flesh left. You risk everything, his position, his honor, his very life.”

  “Beat Drendon? At what?” She stared at Varne blearily, surprised when his cheeks darkened with either fury or embarrassment. He was already mad, so… “Are you blushing?”

  “Go back to the Green Lands where you belong. I shall even fetch you a mount. Leave Khul’s Camp, leave his honor intact, and I’ll ensure he frees you.”

  Shannari rubbed her eyes, running through options. Likely, Varne would set her up to escape, and then laugh his ass off when she was captured and punished. She glanced about them, looking for a second party to verify his accusations. Someone she could trust enough to learn the truth about this honor and lovemaking and kae’als, whatever that was.

  She took a step around Varne, who grumbled but didn’t dare lay a hand on her. Rhaekhar stood a short distance away at a small cooking fire, his Blood gathered about as usual. Drendon was also present and Alea served them. Who to trust?

  Just as she walked up to them, Rhaekhar handed his cup back to Alea. “Let us leave within the hour.”

  Drendon shot a glare at Shannari and whirled on his heel. “Aye, Khul.”

  Rhaekhar smiled at her as if nothing was wrong. “Did you sleep well, na’lanna?”

  “Actually, no. I slept horribly. It was too noisy.”

  Rhaekhar chuckled, the dark-haired wicked Blood bent over laughing, and Varne glowered. Business as usual.

  Rhaekhar leaned down and kissed her lightly. “We shall sleep in my tent this night.”

  The heat of his mouth, the barest taste of him, the scent of baked bread and sweet hay rolling off him— Shannari groaned. It required all her willpower to keep her hands fisted at her side instead of seizing his head and dragging his lips back to hers. Or grabbing his arm and hauling him off somewhere private. “Your tent will be no better if your Blood are inside, too.”

  “Don’t even think of them.” His golden eyes blazed with heat. She felt a surge of physical need from him so sharp she sucked in a hard breath. “You won’t remember them when I get my hands on you this night.”

  Shaking her head, she whispered, “Are you angry today? Because of… last night?”

  “Do I feel angry through the bond?”

  “No. You feel— ” She couldn’t help herself. She let her gaze drop to his memsha. He must have a loincloth on beneath the cloth because she saw no evidence of an erection, but his blazing desire was unmistakable. Heat flooded her face, her chest, until she felt as though she glowed.

  “Exactly.” He laughed, moving off with the Blood in his wake. “I’ll be occupied all day as the tents disperse. Ask anyone where my tent is and try to get some rest.”

  She still didn’t have confirmation of Varne’s accusations. She needed information.

  Gregar walked by, winking at her as usual. She hesitated, trying to decide what the repercussions would be. If she talked to him, would that encourage him in any way? Besides, this was likely going to be rather private and embarrassing.

  “My favorite kind of discussion,” he said, laughing softly. “Ask, Shannari. It’s an honor to serve.”

  “Will Khul mind if you stay behind?” Worried, she sought Rhaekhar again, but he was already out of sight. People hurried everywhere, carrying loads, leading horses, shouting to each other as they prepared to leave the main Camp. She’d never find him.

  “Why should he?”

  Sighing, she turned a wary eye on the laughing lecherous Blood. “Varne accused me of deliberately dishonoring Khul.”

  “That certainly sounds like Varne.”

  “Did I?”

  Gregar shrugged. “Not deliberately.”

  “But I did dishonor him?” At her insistence, the Blood nodded. “How?”

  “Let us find a quieter spot for this discussion.” He grasped her arm at her elbow, but she dug in her heels. The last thing she wanted to risk was private time with him. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t encour
age him in any way. The last thing she needed was two barbarians fighting over her.

  Gregar snorted. “There will be no fighting, Shannari.”

  “I hate it when you do that.” Grumbling, she gave in and went with him. “My head hurts, I didn’t get any sleep last night, I miss my caffe, everybody hates me, and I really, really wish that I could have some privacy with Rhaekhar tonight.”

  “Ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Ask me to help you with the Blood.”

  “Why should I ask you? You just heard me complain about the lack of privacy.”

  “Because.” He chuckled, leaning closer so his hair tickled her face. Oddly, he even smelled like caffe. She must really be missing her morning brew. “If you ask for my assistance, you will owe me. We can trade demands.”

  Politics, barbarian style. Rolling her eyes, she asked, “Gregar, can you keep the Blood out of Khul’s tent tonight and every night?”

  “The Blood will guard outside Khul’s tent indefinitely, unless your safety demands otherwise.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she sharpened her voice. “And your price?”

  “If Khul or I ever offer blood, you will taste it, without question or hesitation. Any time, any place, no matter who watches.”

  Her stomach rolled with nausea. Not at the thought of tasting their blood, but because she feared she truly was tainted with Shadow.

  “It will honor us greatly, Shannari. Everyone in Camp will recognize such a great honor. Tasting blood is not a thing of darkness here, but of honor.”

  “Yours too?”

  He nodded, his eyes darkening with the shadow he carried.

  She shivered, her voice shaking. “Okay.”

  “Very good. Have no worries this night about loving Khul. Now, let us discuss kae’valda, or honor.”

  “And kae’als, particularly white ones.”

  Gregar’s teeth flashed in a huge grin. “Aye, white ones. It’ll be a very great pleasure.”

  * * * *

  “Oh, no,” Shannari groaned. “Why did you bring me here? To her?”