Carnal Sacrifice (25 page)

Sinking back into familiar despair, Laela went instinctively to her mother’s arms,  where she collapsed in the tears she’d sworn she wouldn’t cry any more.

* * * * *

Later that day, Laela was notified by Nila that Ogran had arrived. “You’re to come to the lawn dressed in something befitting your position, your father says,” she relayed, then proceeded to dress Laela in a silk dress the color of a peach.

“I am to be put on display for that old man,” she said glumly as Nila brushed her hair. “Are you going to rebraid it?” she asked over her shoulder then, turning from the viewing glass before her.

Nila shook her head. “Your father did not say to.”

Laela gave a short nod. “He had spoken of lying to the old man about my bride price. Perhaps he’s come to his senses on at least
 
that
 
point.” She couldn’t help thinking, too, with fleeting hope, that perhaps Ogran would not want her once it was clear she was no longer a virgin—he’d seemed to prize that particular trait so deeply. Yet then again—perhaps he would simply punish her for it in some way.

She suppressed a small shiver, realizing she had to be brave and face the day. Her only thoughts of sadness were for Garon—whatever happened to
 
her
 
she could handle.  It was knowing and fearing his doom that broke her heart now.

When Laela proceeded down the breezeway—light and sunny beneath a blue sky, the whitewashed columns shining brightly—all eyes on the lawn turned toward her. A huge crowd had gathered, and at its center stood her father, her mother and the grizzly  Ogran, who she could not even bear to look at. She lowered her eyes immediately upon catching sight of him, even as her heartbeat kicked up.

Then it struck her.
 
Was this the Giving Ceremony?
 
And she was to be sent off with him
 
now, today,
 
without knowing for sure what happened to Garon?

But then, maybe it was better this way. Maybe she’d be happier if she never knew for sure—if she could always keep a shred of hope alive by wondering if perhaps he’d managed to get free somehow.

“My daughter, Laela,” Enrick said, presenting her as she made her way to the center of the crowd.

116

Carnal Sacrifice

“You look lovely, my precious,” Ogran said, and even without meeting his eyes, his  words curdled her stomach in disgust. She took a place by her mother, latching onto her  arm for support as she kept her gaze on the ground.

“Bring out the intruder,” Enrick decreed.

Laela looked up with a start in time to see Garon, still in shackles, escorted onto the  lawn by four guards. Thank Ares he looked none the worse for wear, so he hadn’t been  beaten. Their eyes met, locked, and she prayed he could see the love pouring from hers.

“This,” Enrick began loudly enough for all to hear even though he directly  addressed Ogran, “is the man I told you about. As Laela is to be your wife, it is fitting  for you to choose how he dies.”

Laela’s heart plummeted and she feared she might be sick.

If Ogran took mercy, he might choose some quick method of death, a hanging, a  beheading—gruesome but probably painless. Yet if he chose to punish Garon—and  punish her, too—he might select something slow and torture-filled. Her heart  threatened to explode through her chest at this horribly grim turn of events.

She did the only thing she could think to do—she broke free from her mother and  threw herself at Ogran’s feet. “Please, Ogran, make it a quick death. Grant me this wish  and I will be a good and obedient wife to you in every way.” It was the greatest,
 
hardest
 
thing she could promise.
 
Please let it be enough.

Yet Ogran completely ignored her! He didn’t even deign to look down, simply  stepped around her as if she were a piece of debris strewn in the grass.

“What is your name, boy?” he asked. She looked up to see his gaze steeled on the  man she loved.

“Garon,” he said, eyes narrowed, expression cold.

To her surprise, the old man flinched. “What did you say?”

Her lover blinked. “My name is Garon. Why?”

The old man’s face seemed to droop even further than his wrinkles allowed, his jaw

dropping. “And your mother. Is she living?”

Garon looked understandably confused. “No, she is not. Why?”

“What was
 
her
 
name?”

“Her name was Maraena. Why do you ask me this?”

Ogran appeared nearly overcome with emotion—from what, Laela had no idea.

Everyone looked on him with the same sense of bewilderment—until he dropped to  his knees and held out his arms. “My son!” he cried. “You are my son, boy!”

Garon’s heart dropped to his stomach. His grandfather had never told him  anything about his father, not even his name, and he’d never cared enough to ask. But  all the pieces he knew about the man fit with
 
this
 
man.

This man…was his father.

117

Lacey Alexander

Rage roared through him, propelling him to lunge, despite the chains that held him.  He heard their harsh clanking rattle as the men who held him lost their grips. Women screamed, and Enrick’s voice echoed from somewhere near, yelling, “Restrain him!” His muscles ached and his chest burned with wanting to rip Ogran limb from limb, and he’d almost reached the old man when his captors jerked him back, yanking at the chains from behind and forcing him to stand rigid, at attention.

Still, he let the venom spill from his eyes as he said, “You raped my mother, you ass!” Then he spit at him, even though too much distance lay between them now for it to matter.

Ogran’s expression filled with guilty indignation. “I…I did no such thing.”

“You raped her!” Garon yelled. “You raped her and cared nothing when she died delivering me!”

Ogran’s wrinkles relaxed slightly as he looked to Enrick, trying to absolve himself.  “She was…but a servant girl. Not…terribly bright.”

Despite himself, Garon tore at his shackles once more at the insult to his mother.

“
She was but a servant girl.
 
That makes it acceptable to rape her? To force her against her  will?” He knew many men in Caralon put themselves above women in most ways— perhaps he’d been guilty of it himself, maybe even
 
very
 
guilty—but few condoned  something so barbaric as rape. Garon swung his gaze to Enrick. “You would marry  your daughter to a rapist? To man who thinks it’s his right to take sex from a woman  against her will?”

Ogran looked shamed, worried, and addressed Enrick again. “As I said, she was  but a silly housemaid. I would never force my dear Laela.” He stepped toward her then,  cupping her cheek is his grizzled hand, and she shrank back, horror shining in her eyes.

Garon’s heart clenched at her fear and loathing of the old man—and at the very  idea that his
 
father
 
would be her husband. His father, the
 
rapist
. And he knew in that  moment that
 
somehow
 
he would get free from these chains and this fortress before they  killed him.
 
Somehow
 
he would break away and follow them. He would find her, save  her. He
 
had
 
to. He simply had to save his princess.

Laela looked toward Enrick, her eyes filled with a desperation that tore at Garon’s  soul. “It’s true, Father, what Garon is saying about him. I heard Ogran say…well, I  heard him say he enjoyed being rough, that he intended to take my virginity by force.  Right before I ran away.”

Garon watched the ruler’s eyes slowly change—from confusion…to worry…to the  horror of believing her. “Why…didn’t you tell me this, Daughter?” He reached out to  take her hand.

Laela squeezed her father’s large fist in hers and for the first time in a very, very long time, began to feel her faith in him return—just a little. “I…I didn’t think you cared what happened to me anymore, so I…didn’t waste my breath.”

Oh, the warmth that flooded her when her father drew her into a crushing embrace.  “Of course I care, Laela,” he said above her, pressing her into his chest. “I cherish you. I

118

Carnal Sacrifice

simply…” He let out a long, tired sigh. “I let myself be blinded for a while,” he  admitted softly.

Within seconds, though, all softness fled his countenance as he released Laela from  his embrace and scowled at Ogran. “Escort this man and his caravan from the fortress  grounds. In fact, escort him well away from Myrtell, back to the mountains. Ogran, you  are no longer welcome here!”

Ogran’s eyes flashed dark with ire. “We had an arrangement, Enrick! You can’t just  change your mind. You promised the girl to me!”

“I can indeed change my mind, Ogran. I could banish you from all of Caralon, if I  wish, so if I were you, I’d go peacefully and quickly before I do just that.”

The old man’s gaze narrowed. “What about the mountain passes? Who will protect  them if I don’t? This girl is all that stands between safety for all of Caralon and invasion.  Wouldn’t it be a pity if the Virgs discovered the path through the mountains? I know  the passes well, and I’m not too old to start a war, my friend.”

Enrick crossed his arms firmly across his chest, looking like the strong, admirable  man Laela had always known her father to be. “I thought keeping Caralon secure and  safe was more important to me than anything—but I realize now I was wrong. My  family is more important. My
 
daughter
 
is more important. Do your worst, Ogran—we  shall be ready.”

All watched in silence as Ogran turned to go, his entourage trailing silently behind  with a large number of Enrick’s guards flanking them on either side. Laela’s heart  soared with liberation. The old man was gone! Out of her life, finally—no longer a  threat to her! She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

Just then, her father’s hands gently gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him.  “Laela, my dear Laela,” he said, his eyes looking heavy with emotion. “I thought I knew  what was best for my daughters—and maybe, for Maven and Teesia, I did. But along  the way I let other things get in the path of my good intentions. I grew foolish, and I  forgot what was important. Will you forgive me, Laela?”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat—she’d never seen her father contrite  and, given that he was Caralon’s greatest warrior and the ruler of all, it took her aback.  Yet she stood strong and tried not to let her more tender emotions show. “Are you still  going to choose my husband?”

“Yes, Laela,” he said softly but surely, “I am.”

Her heart dropped, her hopes being dashed with her father’s crushing words.

Until he added, “I choose this man,” and pointed to Garon. “If he wishes it.”

Laela looked to her lover, still in chains, his eyes filled with the ardor that had kept  her heart beating through all the horrors of the past few days.

“It would be my great honor to be your husband, princess. If
 
you
 
wish.”

“If
 
I
 
wish?” she repeated, a giddy giggle bubbling from her throat. She went to him,  wrapping tight around him as his shackled arms closed about her waist. “Even during

119

Lacey Alexander

my Orientation, Garon, I wished it were
 
you
 
who would be my husband. And now,  thank Ares, you
 
will
 
be! It is…a dream come true.”

Without a care for who was watching, Laela lifted a long, hot kiss to Garon’s warm  mouth, letting herself descend into a familiar and sizzling passion, aware that her  breasts ached for him and her pussy burned with need. She was fully lost to it for a long  moment before the sound of her father clearing his throat reminded her they stood on  the fortress lawn in front of a gathering of people.

Pulling back, she offered her father a sheepish look of apology, but his small smile  said she need not be embarrassed.

As Garon’s captors began to unchain him, Laela asked, “But what about the mountain passes, Father? What will we do?”

He shook his head slightly. “That’s not for you to worry about any longer, Laela, and it never should have been. But I will speak with Dane about sending an army down into the mountains from Rawley to protect the passes, and I trust he will keep them covered until he, Ralen and I can put together a permanent plan for the region. And then…well, then we will commence with the Giving Ceremony and the wedding!”

* * * * *

All around the fortress, people bustled. Riders had been dispatched to send for

Maven and Dane in the north and Teesia and Ralen in the south. Seamstresses set about

making clothes for a wedding. And though the official Giving Ceremony would not  take place just yet, Enrick was so repentant that he decreed they should have a large  feast now, tonight, to celebrate Laela’s betrothal to the man she loved, so cooks ran here  and there, heating fires, slicing vegetables, preparing meats—and runners were sent to  Myrtell to invite Garon’s friends, as well.