Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (30 page)

He stilled.

Satisfied, Merry continued, in a softer, more certain voice. Her husband needed to hear the love and respect in her voice. “Bad choices don’t make the totality of the man. I am proud to be your wife. I love you with my whole heart, but you will not start this path, serving as Arm-Righ, trying to be
good.
You’re right my love, you aren’t
good.
You are now, and will always be, exceptional.”

He got very still and looked stunned, like she’d just slapped him. She supposed, spiritually speaking, she probably had. Lauren wasn’t the kind of man who’d give up his self-image easily, even when it was wrong. Then a look of awe flashed across his face before a pure-male slow smile was back on his lips and in his eyes. “Let me show you,
wife
, just how
exceptional
I can be.”

He proceeded to do just that. Perfectly.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Being angry just wasn’t something Daisy was good at. Oh, she could sustain a short tirade with the best of ’em, but once the whirlwind died down she just didn’t see much benefit in continuing to be angry. Usually if she forced herself to hold onto her ire, like she’d done with Magnus, the only person she really hurt was herself.

Self-flagellation just didn’t sit right with her. She was angry. Magnus deserved it. This time, though, she was more worried than angry. She needed to hone her long-sword skills and she needed to hone them quickly. Thank the Lord and Lady
and
Sensei Schwartz for the skills she already had to draw from, or she’d be totally screwed. It didn’t help to think that way, but she prided herself on keeping what she could do and what she couldn’t straight in her head. Any other way of thinking would get her hurt. That wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

Getting maimed or killed surpassed hurt every time.

Daisy fully expected to be hurt. She just didn’t want to be
hurt.
Everyone who’s ever given and received a punch knows the difference. The King’s Second, Kolin Damnet, struck her as a man who knew the difference and wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before he tried to dispatch her to the Otherworld.

Kolin was nowhere near Magnus’ size, but he was bigger than she was, and based on the rumors prevalent among the Finders, he was at least as skilled with a blade. Daisy knew she had to be fast and lethal from the first blow. She didn’t like the idea at all. She didn’t like hurting anyone, by any definition of hurt.

Her uncle Henry, a retired marine sniper and one of the best men she knew, gave her advice long ago that stayed with her. She was young, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and they were in his flower garden, weeding and sharing his ever-present strawberry licorice. She preferred black licorice whips, but she never told Henry that. He took her there after a particularly brutal bullying incident at a school dance. Daisy saw it happening and before she knew it, she was dumping a bowl of punch over the perpetrator’s head. She’d been a guest at the dance and had been barred from ever stepping on the school grounds again. Not for the punch, but for the
punch.
She broke the boy’s nose. In two places.

The boy she was dating never wanted to see her again. She was handcuffed before the school officials found out who her parents were. Then she was let go with an apology, which she found even more embarrassing than getting cuffed in the first place. Jordon said nothing, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Even then, Daisy knew that wasn’t appropriate parental behavior. Her mother kissed her head and asked if what she did was truly necessary. That night Daisy went to bed without having answered her, primarily because she didn’t have an answer. Henry silently watched her that night and made her garden with him the next morning. He thought the answers to all life’s problems could be found in a garden. Daisy had no reason to doubt him.

She could still smell the dirt and the green from the weeds. She could hear his voice in her head.
There are times when a person needs to die. Rarely does any man need to be hurt. Never, no matter how appealing, no matter how easy, is humiliating someone the right answer.

That day with Henry was long past, as was the dance that precipitated Henry’s uncharacteristic advice. The advice was sound, as applicable today as it had been then.

Daisy sent out a silent prayer. A prayer undoubtedly said by every warrior at one time or another.
Please Goddess, don’t let circumstance make me take a life. If there is no choice, let my blade fall true, quickly and without pain.

A knock at her door interrupted any answer from the deity that may have been forthcoming. But then, she didn’t need one. She would protect herself and her family. She would honor her code. She walked to her door and opened it wide, gesturing for him to come in. Magnus’ friend declined. “Get your sword and any other blades you have. You have one last night of training. Let’s go.”

Daisy held her ground, chin up. She squared her shoulders, but didn’t raise her voice. She needed the training and she knew it, but she wasn’t going anywhere without some ground rules being established first. “I’m done training with Magnus until this is over. I don’t want to hit him again.”

His blue eyes crinkled at that. “You shouldn’t have hit him the first time.”

“He deserved it.”

“That he did.” The man straightened. “You’ll be training with me tonight.” His eyes narrowed, but there was still a twinkle there that told her he was teasing, or baiting, or giving her a little of both. “I won’t let you hit me, little warrior, so don’t even think about it.”

“Magnus didn’t
let
me hit him.”

He did smile now. “Yes he did, and you know it. He allowed it because he thought he deserved it.”

Daisy acknowledged the fact that he was probably right, but she didn’t say so. “I’m not going anywhere with you until I know your name.”

He looked taken back by the demand, like it hadn’t occurred to him that normal people address one another by name after they’ve met more than once.

“You can call me Ghost,” he said, sounding definitive and pleased with himself. Daisy relaxed a bit with the absurdity of the last few days in general and his moniker in particular.

“I can also call you, Ass, Mr. Ass, or Mr. Viking Wannabe Ass, but I’d prefer to call you by your name.”

He looked shocked, then laughed as if she were some kind of exotic comedian and he finally got the joke. His bark of laughter sounded rusty, like he didn’t use it very often. When it was gone, his small smile remained. “Grab your gear, little warrior. It’ll be dark soon and we need every moment we can get.”

When she simply crossed her arms over her chest and started tapping a foot, he added, “Rowan. My name is Rowan MacDonald.” He thought about what he just said for a moment. Then he said, “You may call me Rowan, or Ghost. I will answer to either.”

Daisy grabbed her gear and followed him down the stairs and out the door. They walked, with two duffle bags full of weapons, until they reached the stone circle where Daisy found the sword carved into the bottom of the largest stone; the same stone circle where she first ran into him. He dropped his duffle and pulled his sword out of its sheath at his back.

It was a long walk. Night had long since fallen. The moon was almost full and pinkish-orange as it rose. He held his sword up to the sky as if calling on the moon and the night. Daisy pulled out her sword and joined him. Just like the first time, Gleipnir hummed with energy. The closer she got to Rowan the stronger the hum got until she could not only feel it, she could hear it. She held Gleipnir up as he was holding his sword toward the moon.

As soon as she arrived at his side he looked down into her eyes. He was no longer simply a man. He was a force of nature, something to be reckoned with. Daisy’s breath caught in her throat, but she couldn’t look away. She was rooted to the ground just outside the stone circle.

Rowan stepped inside, onto the rocks, and backed up until he was exactly in the center. Daisy felt the invisible pull draw her to the center with him. When she was at his side, sword still high in the air above her, he spoke. “I am the Ghost, one of the Silent Ones charged with protecting the knowledge of those who came before with hand, heart, and sword. Do you, Daisy, woman of Magnus, Second to Ceannard MacBain, agree to learn what I have to teach you this night?”

She didn’t much care for being identified by her relationships with Magnus and Lauren, but then she’d always been linked to and identified by those she was related to as well as those she surrounded herself with:
daughter, sister, niece, employee, dojo-mate, student, teacher, warrior…

Finally, she got it. Warriors had lineages. Rowan was giving hers as he knew it. Ceremony. Ritual. Training session. All three were rolled into one powerful whole. She needed the power. Badly. Once she acknowledged that truth, the words came and Daisy found she meant them, with every cell in her body, with her whole heart, with her growing spirit.

“I Daisy, Second to Ceannard MacBain, life partner of Magnus, agree to open my mind to learn all Rowan, of the Silent Ones, protector of knowledge of those who have come before, has to teach me. By moon, and Earth, by Sea and Air, by Fire, and Well, may I learn well and true everything Rowan has to teach me tonight. Lord and Lady help me make it so.”

Rowan lowered his sword, his gaze unreadable. Daisy lowered hers as well.

“You changed my words,” he said.

Daisy nodded. “I did. Mine were more accurate.”

He nodded once, slightly. Had Daisy not been scrutinizing his every move, she might have missed it. “We train in the stones by moonlight to gain stealth, stability, and clarity of purpose. In the light of the moon, steel flashes, and one must watch the largest part of the body, the torso, to predict the tiniest of movements. Here every move counts.”

He circled away slowly, each boot-clad footfall elegantly testing, like a cat on uncertain ground, arms outstretched, calm and relaxed, yet ready in a Zen kind of way. Daisy mirrored Rowan’s movements, stumbling once, then quickly righting her feet, much more quickly than she ordinarily would have.

There was magic there. Daisy wasn’t just learning with her mind—her body was learning, absorbing every motion without thought.

She saw an opening, and with her sword raised at an angle above her head, she attacked.

Rowan sidestepped with a speed she’d never seen before. He didn’t even have to block. Her momentum took her past him. As she tried to slow her momentum and regain her balance, Daisy felt the sting of the flat of his sword on her bottom. It was humiliating, but that hadn’t been his intent.

“Lesson number two, don’t charge. Wait for your moment and cut. Smooth. One clean cut, collarbone to hip. If your sword is down, then hip to neck. One clean, fluid slice. If you lose your balance, you lose your life.”

Daisy got smacked five more times. The moon was well past its highest point by the time she caught him with his guard down. Gleipnir was at his neck before she consciously put it there. Rowan pushed it away with two fingers. “Slice the air with the precision, speed, and fluidity you would use to cut me in two.”

Daisy did as she was bade. Rowan came behind her and adjusted her stance.

“Again,” he said.

She did it again. This time he adjusted the angle of her right wrist.

“Again.”

She struck the air once more.

Rowan nodded. They spent another hour working on disarming moves, including cutting the wrists, which made Daisy nauseous. She learned others too. Most deadly. All devastating to the person who received them.

By the time they were on their way back to New Kilmartin House, dawn had turned the sky from navy ink to deep purple, then to ever-lighter shades of blue. Soon orange, red, and pink would fill the sky with light and the stars would sleep as night was transformed into day.

Rowan walked in silence after having muttered, “You learn quickly
,
”
which Daisy took to mean she’d learned what he needed her to learn. She matched his strides, but it was no easy task. They were almost home when he broke into her thoughts.

“What are you saying, little warrior?” he asked.

She looked up, startled by his voice intruding on her thoughts. “I didn’t say anything.”

He quirked a brow and his expression clearly said she’d been dictating her list out loud. Again.
Great.

“You were counting.”

“I always count when I’m making my Top Ten lists.”

That didn’t seem to faze him. Either he was unfazed or he simply thought every woman he met was out of her mind. Daisy chose to believe the former. It was easier to like Rowan that way. He didn’t ask—not with words, anyway—but his demeanor said he was curious, so she jumped in and told him.

“I was making a list of the Top Ten Reasons I could give Magnus for grabbing one of the sleeping bags I saw in the tack room and getting naked with me in the stone circle tonight. I know he’s mad at me, so it may take some convincing. I’m beat and I’m sick of making war. I’m ready for a little love-making under the moon.” Daisy didn’t spare a look at him. She was too tired to verbally spar. All of her hurt, but surprisingly not as much as she hurt before she entered the circle.