Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) Page 19

  Make light of it if you wish, Dearra, so long as you follow our advice. I’m not going back in that box.

  “Yes, Brin. I’ll save you from eternal boredom. I’m glad I can alleviate your suffering.”

  Humph.

  “We will discuss this more in the morning, Dearra. You really do need to go back to your room now.”

  She supposed he was right, and she pulled slowly away from him in order to retrieve her sword and return to her room, but just as her hand was about to break free of his, his grip tightened suddenly and he yanked her back to him. She gasped in surprise and then melted into his arms as he kissed her once more. When he had finished, her head was spinning, and her breath came in little gasps.

  Dearra fought for the words and struggled to control her frantic breathing. “What was that for?” she said.

  “I just thought, what with Jacob making his claim, I’d better make my intentions known as well. He may think you belong to him, but I want you to know that, as of this moment, I belong to you.” Darius reached up and rubbed the back of his hand tenderly along her face.

  Dearra stumbled awkwardly to the door, and raced back to the privacy of her room, blushing furiously with pleasure. Once there, she sat in front of the fire and relived every moment of the day. The world was suddenly a wonderful place to be.

  You need to get some sleep, Dearra. Morning is coming quickly.

  “I couldn’t sleep, Brin. Not now. Everything is running through my head so fast, I feel like I’m walking on clouds.”

  If you don’t sleep you will miss tomorrow, and who knows, it might be even better than today.

  “I’ll try, but I don’t think I can.” Dearra gazed intently into the fire, and Brin began to sing, his voice sounding softly in her mind.

  Night has come, the day it sleeps,

  Rest now, your tired eyes, dear one.

  Darkness flies, on silver wings,

  Hold tight to dreams, of love begun.

  Curse not the light, or breaking dawn,

  Love’s glory dies not, with the rising sun.

  Sleep and dream of love’s first kiss,

  Then wake to joy, when night is done.

  Dearra’s eyes drifted shut, and the soothing lullaby followed her into her dreams.

  Chapter 20

  Darius couldn’t sleep, so he went in search of Reo. He hadn’t seen the wolf since he’d left him with Royce. The boy and the wolf seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and Darius was reluctant to separate the pair. Darius knew that while Reo adored him and looked to him as his leader, the young wolf could just be a puppy most of the time with Royce, and as big as he was getting, the wolf was still very young, and thrived on play and adventure. Entering the Great Hall, Darius didn’t have to search long. Reo was curled up in the corner of the room, a giant pile of white fur. Two intent eyes watching in the pre-dawn hours. Royce was curled beside the pup, his head resting on his arms, lost in sleep.

  Reo made to get up, but not wanting to startle the boy with an undignified paw to the face, signaled the pup to stay put with a single motion of his hand. Darius crouched down beside Royce, first patting Reo gently on the head, and then touching the boy’s foot to wake him.

  Royce was quick to feel the contact and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is it morning already?” he slurred.

  “Not yet, but you had best get home. Your mother will be looking for you.”

  “Not likely. I saw the way Father was looking at her; she’ll never know I’m gone this night.”

  Darius laughed softly at the child’s innocent and probably very accurate observation. “Still, I would feel better knowing you were safely home. Would you like us to walk you there?”

  “Darius, you know we live here in the keep? I think I can make it out into the bailey on my own.”

  “Well, be on your way, then. It won’t be much longer before the kitchen staff will be in to start morning meal. If they see you here they just might put you to work.”

  The truth of the statement got Royce to his feet and hurrying for the safety of his own bed.

  Darius signaled for Reo to follow, and the wolf sprang to his side. The two of them wandered aimlessly for a while as the day’s events replayed in Darius’s mind. “Well, Reo, we’re in for some trouble now,” he said.

  The wolf sensed Darius’s agitation, but he also sensed a deep happiness and contentment. The two emotions at once confused the animal, and he whined low in his throat.

  Darius reached down and absently patted the wolf’s head, soothing him. “It’s okay, Reo. At least, it will have to be, because I’m not going to give her up.” Darius saw the cocked head of the wolf, trying to understand emotions and thoughts too complex for its basic grasp of the world. In that moment, Darius truly felt the need of a friend with which to share his thoughts. The wolf was his companion, but he didn’t really qualify as a friend. Dearra was his friend, but also so much more; he could hardly share his thoughts with her since they were all about her. He needed someone he could really talk to. He sighed in frustration and continued to wander the halls of the still silent keep until he found himself at the weapons room—Daniel’s room. He paused at the entryway, and shook his head, wondering what had brought him to this place, of all places. He hadn’t taken two steps, when Daniel’s voice broke the silence.

  “It’s rude to linger in doorways, boy. Or don’t the Breken teach their young manners?”

  Surprised and a little embarrassed to have been caught outside Daniel’s room, Darius somehow managed a calm response. “It isn’t one of their priorities, I’m afraid. Now, if there’s someone you’d like me to assassinate, well then, I am sure I will not disappoint.”

  “Always with the quick comebacks. How witty of you. Tell me, how does that kind of humor usually work out for you?”

  Darius remembered the last time he had tried a quick comeback with Daniel, back when they thought he had killed Dearra. He had been covered in blood, and he had said something about Breken not growing beards. He reached a hand to the side of his head at the memory. “Not too well, actually. But I’m hoping for better results as my skill improves.”

  “It’s your head, boy, but I would say, based on what I’ve seen, you would be better off with yes or no answers as much as possible.” Daniel chuckled at his own joke, and Darius returned the response with a laugh of his own.

  Daniel turned and retreated a little ways into the room. “Well, come in if you’re coming in. I’m not going to keep conversing in doorways.” Daniel sat at one of the tables and gestured for Darius to join him. “What are you doing up this early, boy?”

  “One could ask you the same thing, Weapons Master.”

  “Yes, I suppose one could…if one was exceptionally stupid and looking for another lump to match the last one.”

  Darius retreated wisely and said, “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So it would seem, unless, that is, you are an expert sleepwalker. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

  This was getting into treacherous water quickly. Darius wondered how to respond in a way that wouldn’t have him lying on the floor or swinging from the nearest tree.

  Daniel spoke again before he had a chance to answer the blunt question. “When in doubt, boy, go with the truth.”

  For some reason known only to the gods, Darius did just that. He answered, “Dearra,” truthfully. It was just one word, but it was enough.

  Understanding broke across Daniel’s face. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

  “I guess I am.”

  “Let it go, boy. Do everyone—not least of all yourself—a favor and let it go.”

  “I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I have given myself to her, and now it’s for her to decide.”

  Daniel was on his feet, sword drawn and pointed at Darius in an instant. Darius matched Daniel movement for movement, and the two men stood, facing each other. There was a look of rage on Daniel’s face, and a stunned look of confusion o
n Darius’s.

  “Given yourself to her?” Daniel roared. “You have…You have—”

  “My heart, you idiot! My soul! All that I am or will be!” Darius was so shocked at the implication that he didn’t stop to think what he was saying, seeking only to correct the path Daniel’s mind had taken. “I love her!”

  Daniel’s sword arm dipped and he dropped back to his seat. Darius was slower, his heart still racing at the sudden attack, but he sat again, too. The two men sat in silence, both trying to calm themselves for very different reasons.

  Daniel scowled and continued to stare at the Breken before him, but after only a few moments, the expression softened, and he sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. “So,” Daniel said at last. “You’re committed to this course? There’s nothing I can say to sway you?”

  “No.”

  “And Dearra? How does she feel?”

  Darius remembered the first, sweet kiss she had given him on the beach. “The same.”

  “Well, at least you have learned to answer questions without sarcasm, maybe there’s still hope for you.

  “I can’t say I agree with this. Her father doesn’t suspect it’s gone this far yet. He won’t be happy.”

  “He has noticed something between us? How? Tonight was the first time we—”

  “The first time you what?”

  “Spoke our feelings for one another! Stop jumping to conclusions, Daniel!”

  “Well, then! Stop speaking in half sentences! I’m too old to be jumping up and down, challenging overgrown youngsters to duel!”

  “I would never dishonor Dearra!

  “Answer my question…please. How could Lord Hugh possibly know?”

  “Just because he is a father doesn’t make him blind. The way you look at each other hasn’t exactly been subtle. Dearra is young. She hasn’t ever shown an interest before. I think Hugh hopes this is just a girlish infatuation.”

  “It’s not.”

  “You had better hope he continues to believe it is. He’s not likely to allow such a match.”

  “You seem to be handling it pretty well. Maybe he can be brought around, made to see reason.”

  “What reason is that? That a Breken—our most hated and feared enemy—is suddenly a nice guy? You expect him to hand over his most valued and cherished possession after knowing you only a couple of months, and hope you don’t end up killing her? Yes, I’m sure that’s very, very likely.

  “And as far as me handling it well: I have mellowed in my old age. I would rather let Hugh kill you. Keeping my blade keen is enough of a bother without having your thick head doing damage to it. I prefer to wait and see. Know I will be watching, so there will be no more ‘giving of yourself’, if you take my meaning.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good! Now that that’s settled, and since you’re already up, have you given any thought to Pip’s rescue?”

  “I have.”

  “Well, then, let’s get to work!”

  ***

  Dearra awoke some time later feeling refreshed and excited, but the sun was further up than she had expected, and she rushed to dress for the day. She ran a finger down the silk gown that still lay across the end of her bed before scooping up her more practical, every day clothes. “Thanks for last night, Brin. You sing very well.”

  I don’t know what you mean. I may have hummed a bit to myself, to cover your incessant chatter, no more.

  “You’re grouchy today. Wake up on the wrong side of the scabbard did you?”

  I didn’t sleep at all, thank you very much. You snore!

  “I do not!”

  Fine, so you don’t snore. Just don’t tell anyone I sang to you. I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “Who would I tell except Darius, and if you think about it around him he’ll know anyway. Why is that, by the way? Why can he hear you?”

  Do you want to stand here all day or do you want to find Darius? He is probably starving to death waiting for you to show up for breakfast.

  “Oh! You’re right! Thanks, Brin.” Dearra belted the sword at her waist and made her way to the Great Hall as fast as she could.

  Despite Brin’s warnings of a half-starved Darius eagerly awaiting her arrival before breaking his fast, she saw no sign of him. She stopped a couple of the servers, but no one had seen him since the night before. Maybe he was still sleeping. She had slept in, after all.

  Dearra grabbed some toast and made her way out of the keep. It was a fine day and the sun was shining brightly, but the air had definitely turned crisp. She should have brought a cloak, really, but it was still early, and the day was sure to warm. She made her way down the familiar path to the practice field in hopes of meeting Daniel. She walked in a happy daze, distracted by the thoughts of last night until—

  Dearra! Brin’s voice came in a sharp hiss as a strong hand clamped around her arm.

  “You’re up and about later than normal, Dearra,” Jacob’s voice was honey smooth, but his eyes flashed with anger. “You slept well, I trust.”

  “Good morning, Jacob. I can’t see that it’s any of your business how late I choose to sleep, but yes, I slept wonderfully. Thank you.” Dearra saw, with some satisfaction, that Jacob had clumsily wrapped the two broken fingers in an effort to protect them. What she could see of them looked swollen and purple. Good, she thought to herself. Serves the big oaf right.

  Be careful, Dearra. He’s not in the best of moods, and we’re all alone here.

  Stop worrying, Brin. I can handle him.

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed at her haughty reply. “Everything you do is my business, Dearra. When we are married, I will have to teach you better manners.”

  Dearra stared at him in amazement. He really was unbalanced. “Was there something you wanted, Jacob?” She spoke more civilly, trying to diffuse the situation, but looking at his hand still gripping her arm as she spoke. The softer tone she had switched to seemed to help, and he released her arm.

  “I don’t like to hurt you, Dearra. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. It sickens me to think of marring that beauty, but when you act so badly, what choice do I have? You understand, don’t you?”

  It was inconceivable, yet he really seemed to expect her to agree with him. He stood looking at her as if he awaiting approval, like a child waiting for a parent to say it was all right.

  “Jacob, I can see how I could frustrate you. I have that effect on many people. It has certainly made my father want to tan my backside on occasion. It is for this very reason you and I would never suit one another. My temper would always be a thorn in your side.

  “You are a strong and attractive man, Jacob. You will have no trouble finding another woman more to your liking.” Dearra shuddered inwardly at the thought of such a woman.

  “I have made my choice, Dearra; you need to accept that. The faster you do, the easier it will be on everyone. Look how you tease the poor Breken beast. Even I feel a small bit of pity for the way you toy with him. Truly, if I were to be merciful, I would kill him and save him from your treacherous ways. If your plaything were no more, perhaps you would tire of this game you play with me, and we could be wed without delay.”

  Dearra’s eyes flashed with golden vengeance. “If you touch him, Jacob, it will take the people of Maj a month to find enough pieces to bury you properly.”

  “You go too far, Dearra! I would remind you who the master is in our relationship.” Jacob’s tone was cold and threatening.

  The flames of Dearra’s temper flashed higher at his attempt to dominate her. “We have no relationship! You are nothing to me! I would rather lay down with pigs than to ever wed you! You are vile and disgusting and not worth the mud on Darius’s boots!”

  It happened so quickly that it was a blur. Jacob’s hand shot out and slapped Dearra so hard she spun in a half circle to the ground, the taste of blood in her mouth sending her into a rage. She was up in an instant, sword flashing in the sun, the golden ring around her eyes seeming to
have doubled in size. She raised her sword and brought it around for a killing blow, but Jacob had fumbled his own blade into a defensive position just in time to save himself.

  Finish it, Dearra! Kill him!

  Brin’s words seemed to have the opposite effect of the ones that were intended. She paused, squeezing the hilt of her sword more tightly, as if by holding fast to Brin she could hold fast to herself and keep from flying into a million pieces. Her chest heaved as adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she was hyper aware of every movement, every sound. Regaining a small measure of control, Dearra took a step back without breaking contact between the two blades, and the golden flames in her eyes receded a bit. She twisted her sword deftly down and up in one quick motion, sending Jacob’s sword flying into the bushes. He stood panting, a look of half fear, and half anger on his face. She could still taste blood in her mouth as she spoke. “The next time you touch me, I will kill you.” It was unladylike, but in that moment she didn’t care, and she spat in his face before turning around and making her way quickly back to the keep.

  Jacob watched her retreat, his lips curving into an ugly sneer. Slowly, he took a cloth from his pocket and wiped the bloody mess from his face. He looked at the blood-soaked rag for a moment and cast it to the ground. Then, reconsidering, he stooped to retrieve the gruesome memento and slipped it back inside his pocket. A twisted grin lit his face, as he, too, walked away.

  You should have killed him, Dearra.

  “You keep saying that. Is human life so unimportant to you? He is Maj. I cannot kill him so casually.”

  You killed the lynx all those years ago. It was mad with sickness and you cut it down because it needed to be done. Jacob is like that sick animal. He is poisoned in his mind. It would be merciful to kill him.

  “Merciful? As he wished to be merciful to Darius? No, I can’t do it, Brin. Not like that.”

  You look terrible, Dearra. Your mouth is bloody and swollen, and it’s starting to bruise.