Caller of Light (23 page)

“Damon, why do you make such allegations against your captain?”

For the first time since speaking, Damon’s unflinching eyes locked onto his. “Sire, I’ve pledged my life to you as my king. My wife and girls live within the protection of your walls. I haven’t made any allegations, only spoken the truth. But if you feel I’ve lied, then take my sword because a warrior you cannot trust shouldn’t remain within your service.”

Damon reached for his sword, but Marek stayed the blade by placing a hand on Damon’s shoulder. Marek scanned Carina’s window as conflicting emotions raced through him. “Why didn’t she say something when Sampson spoke against her?”

“Sire, if I may…as a man whose house is filled with women?”

Marek nodded.

“Sometimes a woman speaks without words. You have to learn to hear what she doesn’t say to truly understand her.”

When he remained silent, Damon continued. “What did her body tell you when you held her?”

Marek pressed his lips into a firm line and strode toward the main gate and castle door.

30 – EXPLANATION

Marek tapped on Carina’s door then knocked again when she didn’t answer. Deciding she had ample warning, he opened the door and entered. The last resilient rays from the setting sun bathed the room in a fading light.

Still in her torn clothes, she huddled in a bow window with her arms wrapped around her knees. An onset of nerves forced him to light a lantern on the dressing table and another near the bed before he could approach her. He sat on the narrow ledge beside her. Tear tracks trailed down her cheeks, the only evidence that she’d been crying. He clenched his teeth at the purpling bruise on the side of her face near her hairline. His eyes roved over her, absorbing every detail. Although coated in dirt and mud, the defensive bruises and scratches on her arms were still noticeable.

His chest tightened at the forlorn expression on her face. He needed to touch her and take the pain from her eyes, but she shrank away when he reached for her. She had never shied from him before and watching her press herself into the corner of the window to avoid his touch, ripped through him like a blade slicing into his stomach. Not sure what to do, he dropped his hand as the imaginary knife in his gut twisted.

“Carina, I’m going to leave and send a servant to attend you. Once she’s finished, I’ll return and you will talk to me. Do you understand?”

She bobbed her head.

He would’ve been satisfied with that minor acknowledgment, except for her defeated manner. Eyes that once captivated him with exuberant life, stared out the window, dull and empty…and it terrified him. He resisted the urge to grab her and hold her close, to provide the comfort he should’ve given when she dismounted DarkStar.

Guilt rifled through him like a rat scavenging for food, leaving devastation in its wake and carrying a rising rage that refused to be tempered. The rage encouraged him to confront Sampson, but he had to make things right with Carina first. He scrubbed his hands over his face. She didn’t react when he stood. Like a fragile doll, motionless with her lips slightly parted, she gazed out the window. Yet despite her tattered appearance, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Walking out of Carina’s room took every ounce of willpower he possessed, but waiting in the main hall was a true testament of his patience. More than once he had to stop himself from bounding back upstairs until the servant appeared to inform him of Lady Carina’s readiness.

He entered to the glow of lanterns filling the room with soft light. Carina sat in the middle of her bed in a clean, white dressing gown. Her hair, still damp from bathing, draped over her shoulders. And her hands, which were folded in her lap, must have been particularly intriguing because she wouldn’t look at him.

Marek sighed, knowing this would not be easy for either of them, but he needed to know the truth. He sat on the edge of the bed while she twisted and tangled her fingers in a nervous dance.

“Carina,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

Her heart sputtered and tumbled into her stomach. His velvet voice wreaked havoc with her inner resolve. How could she stay safely tucked away within herself when his mere presence beckoned her to drop her carefully constructed defenses? Summoning all her courage, she raised her head and peered into his penetrating green eyes—eyes that infiltrated her every safeguard, that exposed too much of her, and could condemn her in a blink of dismissal. To her surprise, anger didn’t greet her. Instead, concern plagued his face. She gasped when his hand clasped hers to stop their fidgeting.

“You must tell me.” Marek hesitated as if it pained him to continue. “Tell me what happened. No matter the truth or who it might hurt. Will you please…tell me?”

She glanced down. Marek’s hand covered both of hers. Mesmerized, she watched his thumb caress her, rubbing back and forth.

The truth? How could she tell him the truth when it would vilify his captain and best friend? Sampson would say she was lying and Marek would be forced to choose between them. In the end, he would side with Sampson since they’d grown up together.

She should just accept her fate. She was a mixed blood after all and undeserving of the honor he had bestowed upon her. Why had she even allowed herself to hope? That’s what hurt the most, to believe she could’ve achieved something beyond her station in life. He should just send her home. But the thought of leaving Stirrlan and Marek to go back to her old life caused an ache to spiderweb throughout her body, choking the air from her lungs and constricting her already struggling heart. She knew he waited for an answer, but could only stare at his thumb stroking her hand, her voice failing her.

Marek’s tone dropped, a king demanding an answer. “Were you with another man today?”

Her head jerked up and her eyes glistened with tears. Anger and frustration filled her chest. How could he ask such a question? Her voice quavered, although she didn’t know if it was from anger or the pain of his question, but it definitely wasn’t out of guilt or shame.

“I’m
yours
. You chose
me.
There is no other and never has been.” She spat out the words with a bitterness she couldn’t hold inside anymore.

Exhaustion pulled at her body leaving her irritable. But she refused to remain silent while others accused her, and she wouldn’t continue justifying her actions when she’d done nothing wrong. “If you don’t believe me, or if you intend on questioning me every time I go for a walk, then you should return me to my father.”

Marek’s back straightened and his grip tightened. “I’m
not
sending you back.”

Her heart stammered at the possessiveness in his voice. She glared at him unwavering, but his all-seeing eyes were too powerful and her bravery evaporated on a silent exhale. “Then you must trust me,” she whispered with lowered eyes.

He sighed. “I know, Carina. And I do, but from now on you must promise me one thing.”

She glanced up with an arched eyebrow.

“You must speak out the next time I travel down the wrong path.”

The corners of her lips twitched.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve never been accused of not speaking my mind.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m forewarned. Do you promise?”

“I promise.” She smiled softly.

“Good.”

Her smile faded when she noticed his eyes darken. He reached out to touch her face. Fear squeezed her heart and her protective defenses slammed into place. She scooted away until her back hit the headboard.

His hand paused in midair. She could hear the reassurance layered in his voice. “Carina, you ask that I trust you, so you also must trust me. Know that I will never hurt you. But I need to see the injuries Sampson inflicted on you, so I
will
touch you.”

Tears rimmed her eyes, but she nodded.

He edged closer and leaned forward, imbedding his fingers in her hair before brushing the wet strands off her shoulder. He could smell her—wild roses and the sweet, dazzling expectation just before a winter storm. Their closeness would’ve aroused him if not for the growing bruise traveling from her jaw to her temple.

The rage consumed him, blistering hot in his veins. “Where else?” he asked in a voice he barely recognized.

Carina frowned before answering. “I guess along here.” She motioned down her side.

“
What?
”

“That’s where he punched me,” she said with a halfhearted shrug, refusing to look at him.

He splayed his fingers the length of her ribcage. His hand was a hairsbreadth away from the beautiful swell of her breast. He tried to be careful as he probed, but she shivered at his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head as a blush rose in her cheeks. “No, just startled me…that’s all.”

Under different circumstances, his fingers traveling over her body would be driving him insane with desire. Instead, the rage pounded him and crashed into the bars of the cage he kept it locked behind as images of Carina curled up on the ground while Sampson beat her, invaded his mind.

“Did he…” Marek inhaled a deep breath. He struggled to keep his hands from shaking.

She stared at him with innocent eyes.

“Did Sampson…did he…”

“No,” she answered quietly. “He would have, if Damon hadn’t been there.”

He strained to hear as Carina’s voice trailed off to an almost inaudible whisper.

“If Sampson had persisted, I think Damon would’ve stopped him.”

He traced the bruise running along her jaw, trailing his fingers to her temple before resting his palm against her cheekbone. His chest labored in a feeble attempt to draw sufficient air into his lungs.

How could he have believed Sampson? How would she ever forgive him? He cupped her bruised face and closed his eyes. He was so undeserving of her, but had to try to make amends. With a ragged exhale, he spoke. “Forgive me for doubting you…and for not being there to protect you.”

She touched his face, smoothing his creased brow with her thumb. “There’s nothing to forgive because what happened isn’t your fault. You can’t be with me every moment of the day.” Her lips curved upward in a soft smile.

Her words were meant to comfort, but he could not be so self-forgiving. Although strong and independent, Carina was his responsibility. No other man had the right to touch her, let alone hurt her. The desire to protect her thrummed within his very being. He couldn’t control the overpowering compulsion to shield her from all harm. And Sampson would pay for his insurrection with his life.

Although he savored her caress, he reached for her hand and kissed her palm. Did she shudder at his kiss? He longed to explore that idea. But Sampson burned in the forefront of his mind, so he released her and stood.

Confusion spread across her beautiful face. “Where are you going?”

“I have to find Sampson. He must be punished.”

****

Carina nodded. But the thought of being left alone another night, especially after what had just happened, filled her with despair. Suddenly, she felt exposed wearing only a nightgown. She gathered her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. With a resigned inhale, she dropped her chin to her knees and stared out the window.

The moonlight bathed the landscape in a calm, welcoming radiance. If she wasn’t so sore and mentally beaten, she would’ve slipped outside to soak the moonbeams into her skin. She loved the moons. People tended to fear the night, but Luna and her son lived after sundown. So, instead of dreading the dark, she embraced it. While the sun was bright and harsh, the moons were gentle and soothing, and offered a place to hide when the events of the day were too traumatic.

She’d just experienced a horrible assault, worse than being arrowshot because the arrow was part of battle and impersonal in a way. But Sampson’s attack was very personal, meant to demean and hurt her. How she wished she could run outside and disappear into the shadowed safety of the blue-white luminescence.

“Carina?”

She turned from the window and tumbled into Marek’s troubled eyes. He was sitting on the bed again, his forehead creased with worry. He brushed the tears off her face that she didn’t know had fallen.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, resting her cheek in his hand. His throaty voice spoke to her in a way she couldn’t describe, rolling over her senses and seeping into her skin. It warmed her from the inside, draping her in a peaceful comfort, yet energized her with a promise of something more.

His other hand slid up and down her arm in a soothing manner. His touch was meant to reassure, but instead his slow caress fanned a flame deep within her, igniting a different kind of ache. Her heart thumped as she realized they were sitting on her bed, alone.

She’d never completely trusted someone before. To trust meant a willingness to share her innermost dreams, which went against every protective instinct in her body. But Marek had just asked her to trust him, and maybe for him—and for her—it was time to take a chance, to jump off the cliff and rely on his faithful arms catching her. Maybe, he believed in her after all. Although it went against her internal screens, she stared into his concerned eyes and asked for what she desired most.

“Must you go?”

****

Her unwavering gaze penetrated his defenses with ease, as if she had walked through the front door to his heart. Her eyes held him transfixed, binding him in a powerful hold that surprisingly didn’t frighten him. She had wrapped herself into a ball, but when she pinned him with those dark eyes, willing him to stay, her lure was overwhelming.