The Rose of Shanhasson Read online

He slapped Gregar on the back and ducked outside with Varne at his heels.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She shot a dark look at Gregar and wrapped the blanket tighter about herself. If she’d had any inkling that the Blood protected inside the tent last night, then she never would have kissed the barbarian. Let alone… While the laughing, lecherous Blood watched. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Aye, very much indeed. You are definitely not your normal cheery self in the mornings without your caffe.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  The grin wiped off his face immediately. “I’m Blood first, Shannari. I’ve guarded Khul inside his tent for five years with never another thought to what activities he might pursue in his blankets. A Blood doesn’t need to eat or sleep, let alone ease physical need with a woman. A Blood’s only need is Khul’s protection. Unless you invite me to join you with him, I shall remain Blood.”

  “You can watch and not… feel?”

  “Aye. Listen to my bond this night and see for yourself. Unless you deliberately invite me to participate, I shall remain Blood, as unexcited as Varne.” His eyebrow rose with obvious expectation, but if he made a joke, she didn’t understand it.

  She looked about the tent for some privacy. No way in hell she was getting dressed with him ogling her, no matter what he said about being Blood.

  “There’s a steamtent in the back. Shall I heat it for you?”

  “Thank you.”

  With a cocky grin, the Blood headed for the smaller flap in the rear of the tent. “It’s an honor to serve.”

  She dug through the chest of Sha’Kae al’Dan clothing Rhaekhar had selected for her, trying to find something not so abominably short. None of the pieces even came close to hitting her knees. Nearly all of them were brilliant emerald green, too. She didn’t mind green, but she didn’t know that she’d wear the color every single day. A few outfits were all gold but ridiculously short. The only other color he’d selected was a deep purple-blue very close to the color of her eyes, and only if the material still bore his green. The two colors were unusual together to say the least.

  Heat suddenly wrapped against her back. She froze, waiting for the usual terror to flood her, the urge to reach for the sword that wasn’t there. But she felt only the silken muscle of warrior against her.

  “My kae’valda.” Gregar’s voice was oddly hushed, and he trembled against her. “He would let you wear my kae’valda.”

  “The color? I thought kae’valda was the beads in his hair.”

  He lowered his chin against her shoulder and hugged her. “Aye, but the color comes first.”

  Bewildered, she didn’t try to break out of his hold. Not yet. “You wear red now.”

  “When I became Blood I gave up my past kae’valda, but he remembered. He honors me more than I dared hope. Wear this on the day you want to invite me to join you and Khul in his blankets.”

  She whirled away from him and he let her go. Unfortunately, the blanket slipped down her shoulders before she wrestled it tighter.

  Gregar gazed at her neck, her right shoulder, his fingers stroking the hilt of his rahke. She couldn’t figure out what he stared at, until Rhaekhar’s bite mark twinged. Shrugging the burning throb away, she jerked the blanket tight and marched for the steamtent in the back.

  “Later this day, I wish to offer— ”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  He ruined her flamboyant exit by blocking the flap with his arm. When she gave him a pointed stare, he winked but dropped his arm and allowed her to pass. Trailing his fingers down her back as she marched by, he whispered, “Not even blood?”

  Shuddering, she paused a moment. Despite her best efforts, she began to turn her head toward him before regaining control. “Not a chance.”

  “Ah, you challenge me, woman. I accept.”

  Escape into the steamtent couldn’t stop the sound of his low chuckle. Damned dark-haired lecherous Blood. And damn her treacherous body that anticipated the battle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When she stepped out of Khul’s tent, she found only Gregar waiting for her. “Where is he?”

  “Khul was forced to leave so he could prepare for the kae’don.” Gregar offered her the steaming cup in his hand. “He did have time to prepare this, though. Once you deliver the bow to Alea and visit Market Day, he invites you to come watch his fun and games with Lyell.”

  Grateful despite Rhaekhar’s abandonment with the Blood, she took the cup and sat down in the main tent’s shade. “What’s Market Day?”

  “Three Camps have gathered this day for the kae’don. Naturally they wish to trade. Khul instructs you to take whatever you wish from the traders.”

  Shannari frowned. She hadn’t brought much gold at all, and she preferred to keep her private funds in case she needed it for emergency flight. “How are they paid?”

  “Gold is a Green Land vice. In our Market Days, goods are exchanged and a tally is reckoned at the end of the day to equal the Camps based on standing.”

  “Based on standing? What does that mean?”

  “Everything is a competition.” Of course, he winked and leered at her, making her wonder what sort of competition he might arrange with Rhaekhar if she ever lost her mind and invited him. “The Nine Camps constantly jostle for standing. Khul’s Camp is First, Drendon’s is Second, so they get both the best trade items and the best exchange rates. The other Camps expect Khul’s Camp to take whatever it needs. They expect you as Khul’s woman to take whatever you desire. If not, they will lose face.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that if I don’t take things, people will be insulted?”

  “Aye. If Khul’s woman is unsatisfied with their trade goods, then the Market Day will be a failure.”

  “But I don’t want to incur a debt to these other Camps, not until I understand how the prices are determined.”

  “No debt will be incurred. You must take items as your right. As Khul’s right. He is First. He takes First selection. As Khul’lanna, full management of his Camp’s trades will be your responsibility. It is best to gain the experience now.”

  “I’m not his wife, his mate, and I’ll never be. I must return to the Green Lands.”

  Gregar shrugged. “So you say, but here you are.”

  Fury blazed through her body, leaving her trembling. Not at the Blood, exactly, although she chose to vent her anger on him. At herself, for wishing she could live the impossible. “You’re a fool if you think I’ll doom the Green Lands to darkness and death for a few romps in Khul’s blankets.”

  His dark eyes gleamed. Shadows gathered around his face, draping along his shoulders. “Ah, but what if those romps can save you, Shannari?”

  Hair prickled on the back of her neck. “What do you mean?”

  “Love is the greatest gift of all.”

  Her chest hurt, and she absently rubbed the old scar. “Hard to believe when someone I make love with tries to murder me in my own bed.” Horrified she’d let that terrible secret out, she clamped her mouth shut and lurched to her feet, intent on leaving the tent— and the Blood— far behind.

  Before she could flee, Gregar’s arms closed around her, drawing her back against his chest. “Those were dreams only. On my honor— Khul’s own blood— you’re safe from me now.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I didn’t speak of you.”

  His arms tightened and deadly cold trickled down her arms until she shivered against him. “Tell me.”

  “Devin made love to me, watched me fall asleep in his arms, and then he put a knife in my heart.” Rage washed over her, betrayal, agony. She hated this. Hated admitting any weakness. “Father Aran rode half the night after a premonition he received from the Lady, and he arrived just in time to Heal me. Otherwise, I would have died years ago in the name of love. Instead— ”

  She swallowed, forcing the last words out. “With the last of my strength, I killed Devin. I slit his
throat, the man I loved. Bleeding to death, we lay in the bed that we’d just— ”

  “While I live, no one will touch you with steel or blade again. As long as you let me stay close, at your back, like this.”

  “I can’t love again.”

  “You already do.”

  Gregar spoke so matter-of-factly, so calmly, while she wanted to hack and slash all about her with a sword. “Even if I do, I can’t stay. I know my destiny, Gregar. I must return to the Green Lands.”

  “Eventually.” He rubbed his cheek against hers and then released her. “I know my destiny, too, and Khul’s. Your priest is not the only one who has premonitions. I’ve seen the day of my death. I’ve seen the years of happiness it will buy you with Khul. And it’s worth the sacrifice.”

  “I don’t— ”

  “Sacrifice,” he whispered, giving her a little shake. “You’ve never loved someone who was willing to sacrifice for your love. That’s the difference. That’s the gift. Take what Khul offers with open heart, Shannari. He’d cut off his right hand before harming you.”

  Blinking back tears, she turned away and noticed two boys standing a few feet away. They whispered among themselves, casting surreptitious glances her way. Closer to young men rather than boys, she decided, and built like warriors.

  Gregar stepped around her, bumping her back away from them. Deadly cold radiated from him. “What do you want?”

  The tallest lad’s mouth tightened, and his friend tossed his head, shaking long dark auburn hair about his shoulders. “We would like to meet our future… Khul’lanna.”

  “Why?”

  Surprised at the Blood’s rudeness, Shannari took a step toward the boys. They surely weren’t threats to her safety. They didn’t even carry swords, and they both wore plain brown cloths about their hips. They were not yet warriors.

  Gregar moved with her, bumping her, using his body to keep her back. Smiling at the boys, she drilled her thumb between his shoulder blades as hard as she could. “I’m Shannari.”

  She held her hand out to them and Gregar growled.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re starting to look and sound like Varne.”

  With a dark scowl, Gregar let her step forward.

  “I’m Dharman of Khul’s Camp.” Hesitantly, the tall lad took her hand. “It’s my great honor to meet you, Shannari.”

  “Honor,” Gregar muttered. “You lads know nothing of honor.”

  “Not yet,” the red-haired lad said cheerfully. “But we will. I’m Sal. Drendon is my khul, and it’s my great honor to meet you, Shannari.” He gave a pointed stare at his friend, arching a brow at him until Dharman released her. Sal smiled as he took her hand, revealing an adorable dimple in his cheek.

  “Why aren’t you drilling?” Gregar said stiffly. “You two need all the practice you can get.”

  Dharman elbowed his friend who only clutched her hand harder. “Everyone’s at the kae’don. We thought we might escort Shannari to— ”

  “I’m her escort. I’m her Blood.”

  “You’re gravely mistaken.” For his youthful awkwardness, Dharman stared at Gregar with a hard glint in her eye that surprised her. “You’re Khul’s Blood and always will be.”

  Shannari shivered. The sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and shadows crept across the ground toward the boys. Shadows from Gregar.

  “Stop it.” She had no idea why he so adamantly opposed the young men’s presence. Varne insulted her, obviously hated her, yet Gregar laughed in his face. These two young men simply wanted to meet her. “Did you say drill? Perhaps I can come practice with you another day.”

  The boys grinned enthusiastically and agreed to fetch her at her earliest convenience. While Gregar muttered and glared at them with Death darkening his eyes. They left, already planning her day with them. Tossing his gorgeous hair over his shoulder, Sal gave her a flirtatious grin that showed the dimple in his cheek again.

  Oh, dear, that young man was trouble.

  Gregar sighed bitterly. Rubbing her arms to chase away the goose bumps, she frowned at him. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

  He rolled the ivory knife back and forth across his palm. When had he unsheathed it? “I’m not yet dead.”

  “No one said you were.” Reluctantly, she listened harder to his bond, trying to understand why he was so angry, so bitter, so… hurt. “They’re just boys. I didn’t mean— ”

  “Lads, aye. They don’t even wear kae’valda yet.” He raised his gaze to hers, his dark eyes flashing. “Remember my honor. Remember me. Don’t rush me to my death.”

  Her throat clogged, painfully tight and raspy. She refused to consider the cause. “Why are you talking about your death?”

  “Their arrival tells me… ” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. His hands shook and the razor-sharp knife nicked the fleshy heel of his left hand. “The day of my death comes too quickly.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She didn’t understand why he thought two boys would hasten his death. As on the ride to the Plains, she wanted to throw her arms around him and sob, begging him. Never leave. Never, ever die. Stay with us forever.

  Soberly, he traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “On my honor, I shall be with you forever. Not even death will keep me from you.”

  Her heart ached, sliced in half, torn to shreds. She’d never asked for this. For two warriors of such unswerving honor and courage to love her. To demand a share of her heart. To tempt her to do the unthinkable.

  Dark and rich, the scent of his blood so close twisted the knife in her heart deeper. His obsidian eyes flickered with flames and at last a hint of his wicked smile quirked his lips. “A challenge, remember? Will you succumb to my blood so easily?”

  Swallowing hard, she determinedly walked away from the tent. She had no idea where the Market Day was, but she wasn’t going to stand there drooling over his blood any longer, either. “I remember. I’m not giving up so easily.”

  He sighed dramatically and re-sheathed his knife as he caught up. “On the day of my death, will you at least honor me with a kiss?”

  Shannari snorted loudly but felt heat creeping through her body. Kiss Gregar? Taste his blood? Next, he really would convince her to—

  Gregar laughed softly. “Vulkar let it be soon.”

  * * * *

  On a hilltop outside Camp, the people gathered for Market Day. Hides spread out on the ground were loaded with supplies and crafts. People milled, talking and laughing, throughout the casual set up.

  Shannari swept her gaze over the crowd, quickly taking mental notes of the arrangements. The hides were colored— green, sky blue, and orange— so she quickly realized who belonged to which Camp. The people at the green hides welcomed her with a nod and smile as she walked by. Secure in their position as First Camp, they seemed to know she would automatically find their goods acceptable.

  At the sky blue hides, people were friendly but pushier. They needed her approval in some way. If she walked past a hide without taking anything, the owners frowned and tensed, staring across the way at their competition. Since Alea wore sky blue at the fire, Shannari knew these people belonged to Drendon’s Camp, and therefore, the orange must be Lyell’s. With the hides arranged by content, she could see at a glance why Drendon’s Camp was second and Lyell’s was evidently lower. Much lower, if the quality of goods was any indication.

  She decided to find Alea and deliver the bow first, and then spend a little time browsing. Perhaps she’d find some goods her father might be willing to trade for.

  Silent behind her, Gregar placed his palm in the small of her back to draw her attention, nodding toward the right. She saw Alea immediately and headed in that direction with her best polite smile firmly in place.

  The woman shocked the hell out of her by hugging her. “Shannari, welcome! How’s your arm?”

  “Fine, fine. Your Kae’Shaman has a great gift.”

  “None is better at Healing in all the Nine Camps. I hoped you would sto
p by before the kae’don. The warriors will be rowdy after their fight and will take all the best goods later.”

  Smiling a little more naturally, Shannari offered the bow. “Khul asked me to deliver this personally. We hope it meets with your approval.”

  Alea actually squealed and snatched the bow from her hands. “Oh, it’s exactly the one I’ve been watching Blaine make. It’s beautiful. Thank you, it’s perfect.”

  Relieved, Shannari glanced down at the other woman’s hide. “So what is your specialty?”

  “Alea, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  The woman’s voice would have been pleasant if it weren’t sharp with the desperate tone of someone trying very, very hard. She appeared several years younger than both Shannari and Alea. Young and nervous and very desperate. Why? Shannari didn’t know, but she smiled kindly at the young woman.

  “Shannari, this is Krista, Lyell’s mate. Krista, this is Shannari, Khul’s woman from the Green Lands.”

  The young woman seized Shannari’s freshly healed arm so hard she winced. “Won’t you come to my hide?”

  Alea shook her head. “Krista! Give the woman a moment to get to know you before you drag her off to view your goods.”

  Shannari glanced back at Gregar, cocking an eyebrow at him. What good was a bodyguard if he didn’t prevent such annoying situations? The bastard merely grinned.

  “We’re so happy you came to Market Day, Shannari,” Krista gushed, still clutching her arm. “We’ve worked very hard for months to prepare our best goods. The Summer Gathering is only a few weeks away.”

  Shannari politely nodded at each good the other woman held up for her perusal, but nothing really caught her fancy. The necklaces were heavily decorated with feathers, which she guessed would be extremely annoying about her neck. The colors were a little too vibrant, too garish, for her taste.

  She looked again to Gregar more desperately. What if she couldn’t find anything reasonable to take from this poor girl? She couldn’t bear to wear such a ridiculous frou-frou item. “Summer Gathering?”

  “All Nine Camps will gather at the base of Vulkar’s Mountain for a fortnight of trading, competitions and ceremonies,” Alea said. “The khuls meet and the Camp statuses are re-affirmed for the year.”