Geared for Pleasure (22 page)

Captain Amaranthe grinned at Dare’s expression, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Let me show you why this one is not on the wall. Get down!”

Dare obeyed instinctively and the captain’s sword sang as it swung in a swift, perfect arc through the air. A male shout of horror cut off midstream before the blade returned to its owner’s side, no trace of blood marring its pristine polish.

Looking over her shoulder, Dare saw that the other men had paused as a unit to stare down at the one who had fallen. Both pieces of him. He’d been split neatly down the middle and the halves had fallen in opposite directions on the spongy earth. The sickly smell of a singed animal tainted the air, and Dare preferred to think it was from the man’s black fur cloak rather than the man himself.

Dare swallowed with difficulty and stood. When this was over she might swoon, but the Wode in her knew there was no time for that.

The men did not. She could feel their horror strong enough to read them clearly.
They had not expected this type of magic.

Magic?

She used their distraction to her advantage, diving headlong into the crowd of flustered assassins. Dare lashed out at the nearest attacker with the heel of her boot, using her slender blade to slice through his shoulder and into the muscle, rendering his clawed hand useless against her. When he howled in pain but still lunged for her with his working hand, she had no choice but to plunge her dagger into his throat.

Phina’s wild cry pierced the air and Dare knew she had joined in the fray. Now that Bodhan was no longer fighting alone, Dare allowed herself to focus on the remaining men. Hours or perhaps mere moments later, she whirled around, dagger high, and found herself face-to-face with the captain.

Stepping closer, her face glowing from exertion and the joy of battle, Captain Aramanthe panted, “Not so useless after all, are you, Blue?”

Dare wiped her blade on the leg of her pants, hoping she looked as at ease with actual fighting as the others did. A lifetime spent sparring had not prepared her for the reality of death. For blood. For the instant of frightened awareness in the enemy’s eyes, in their hearts, before she dealt a killing blow. But she knew enough not to expose her weakness to this powerful woman. “Useful enough that you’ll call me Dare?”

The captain lifted one elegantly arched eyebrow. “Perhaps. If I do, then I will reciprocate and allow you to call me Nerida. But only in private.” She paused, taking the time to adjust the hilt of her sword until the sound and tactile vibration halted. “I suppose this new stage of our relationship means I have to release your beau and return his pistol.” Her tone turned hopeful. “Unless you prefer him in chains?”

They turned back toward the wreckage of the camp. Freeman and Bodhan both watched them with something akin to admiration and—Dare opened her mind and reached toward them with her senses—lust.

She shook her head, fighting a bemused smile. “I’d prefer him free.”

If he chose to be with her, he would do so while neither of them was under duress.

They were walking toward the men, stepping over the small island of dead or unconscious bodies left in their wake, when Dare noticed Phina. She was kneeling on the moaning Wen’s chest, her body unnaturally still.

Bodhan spoke up with a cheeky grin, “We now have two prisoners for the price of one, either a fine replacement for me.”

Dare glanced at the struggling stranger on the ground. Bodhan’s boot pressed firmly into one forearm, Freeman’s into the other, effectively rendering the man’s upper body immobile.

Phina made a clicking sound with her tongue, drawing Dare’s attention once more with a negative shake of her tousled ruby red hair. “Only one prisoner for you. Wen is
my
trophy.” She leaned down until her nose was touching his. “He killed Gebby. Funny. Happy. Gebby.”

Dare took a step closer, worried at Phina’s odd tone, but the captain stopped her with an outstretched arm. “Gebby was good crew. Wen had no cause to kill him. From the look of the body, he snuck up on the old man. Prickless coward gave him no chance to defend himself.”

Phina put her fist to Wen’s chin, the clasps of her bracelet jangling out a warning. “I have a special kiss for you.” She nipped his nose with her teeth. “It lasts for hours, makes you burn. You deserve a kiss, don’t you? Gebby would want me to spare you.” Her smile was broad, her lips thinned to bare her sharp white teeth. “But he’s not here to stop me, is he?”

Wen looked terrified. “My lord will protect me. He knew
she
would come to the Deviant with her long blue hair and her magic. Knew I would be here. He will protect me.” But he was no longer certain.

“Dare.”

She looked up at Bodhan, unsure of how she felt about such a lack of mercy despite Wen’s murderous actions. Bodhan held her gaze, giving no quarter in his expression. “He meant to take you away from me. Meant to kill us all.”

Wen’s sounds of agony were real now, telling Dare that Phina had used one of her poisonous darts on the man. She turned at the sound of scrabbling fingers digging at earth and crushing grass. Phina had taken her weight off his chest and Wen had rolled onto his
stomach and was crawling away into the marsh. No one made any attempt to stop him, knowing his freedom would be short-lived.

Dare could not look at Phina. Though she understood her reasons, the turmoil of her emotions, she was uncomfortable with the Felidae’s methods. But one man was fascinated. The wide-eyed prisoner, still easily held by two large booted feet, had been watching what Phina did with something akin to adoration.

Captain Amaranthe moved closer to him, blocking Dare’s view. “I’ll protect you from the Felidae if you tell us why so many of you came after us, if more are on their way, and why.”

The man curled his lip. “Protect me? I pray to my lord that you allow me the sweet sting of her kiss. A free Felidae, not imprisoned by the cruelties of the usurper’s rule? Let her claws penetrate my heart and send my soul to bliss.”

Dare’s lips parted in surprise, and everyone around her wore similar expressions. Phina most of all. Dare could feel her confusion at his declaration, but it made a certain sense. It explained their attackers’ markings, their choices of weapons. These men emulated the Felidae, or attempted to. Emulated and perhaps obeyed?

She came closer, and he followed her movements with avid eyes.

“Is your lord Felidae?” She kept her voice soft, inquiring.

He smiled, the expression on his face akin to an adoring child or a fanatical cult member. “No. He looks human as we do so we may hear the truth. That the Felidae came from him as we did. As we all do. They follow him and soon is the time when he will lift them up to rule.”

Phina growled, a sound more animal than human. “Queen Idony rules. The Felidae follow the queen. Are loyal
to the queen
. The moons must have addled your brain.”

The prisoner winced as Freeman shifted more of his weight onto the man’s arm in silent warning, but he still shook his head. “He promised you would not have to suffer much longer. He loves you.
He lifts your yoke as we speak.” His gaze darted back to Dare. “But we need the stars to align. The third moon will burn the sky red and the river will run with gold. We need the blood of the earthbound Chalice.”

Bodhan bent down to grip the strange man’s hair in his hand, yanking hard. “Wen said that as well. Blood of the Chalice. I swear by the two moons I will carve you into small, bite-size pieces and use you as bait if you do not explain
precisely
what that means.”

But Dare knew. The man felt it so strongly, believed it with so much of his being, that she was surprised no one else could hear.

Sacrifice. They needed sacrifice and there would be more than one.

She was trembling, not sure she should share what she’d learned with the others. Not with everyone so on edge. They would interrogate him, no doubt kill him in the attempt, but Dare knew they would receive no more information. This man was a true believer. He was no mastermind. He was simply obeying the will of his lord.

A cry echoed across the marsh, breaking the tense silence. Dare and the others whipped around in time to see Wen’s severed head fly freely from his body and roll toward them on the small, bloodied hill.

Bodhan straightened and took a step toward the women. “There are more of them. Get me out of these damn cuffs.
Now
.”

The prisoner shouted in premature victory as he attempted to use their distraction to his advantage, rolling to his feet and taking a few panicked, stumbling steps toward her.

There was no need or time for Dare to lift her thin blade. Freeman reached out with one hand and dragged his flailing body back, snapping his neck as though it were no more than a twig before letting him drop. He nodded at Dare without a word, his attention returning to the head… and the sound of slow, unsteady footsteps splashing through the watery landscape.

And whistling. It was out of tune. Why did it sound so familiar?

Dare watched a tall, broad-shouldered shadow emerge from the darkness, his sword sheathed as he cupped something carefully in his hands. Another body part?

The low light of the fire that still blazed began to define his features. His head was shorn and covered with scars and fresh cuts as though he had shaved it himself with his blade, without the benefit of a reflective surface.

At some point his shirt may have been white, but now it was caked in mud and dried blood and torn in several places.

Dare’s body shook visibly. She knew it but she could not seem to stop. She looked down at his hands, unwilling to focus on his face. To hope.

He was cupping a white lotus.

Bodhan strode toward him, rage and a frustrated desire for violence radiating off him like hot rays of the sun.

“Bodhan, wait! Don’t hurt him.” She ran ahead of him, making sure the man was blocked from the others. “Cyrus? Cyrus, is that you?”

He stopped whistling abruptly and indigo eyes, dilated but still so like her own, looked up at the sound of her voice.

Dare covered her mouth with her hand, tears spilling freely down her cheeks as she studied him. The skin around one of his eyes was cut and swollen with infection. His gaze was feverish. Confused. Both of his lips were cracked and raw with dehydration.

She would recognize him anywhere. “You’re alive.”

He lowered his chin to study the flower in his hand. “I found it. Some beast just tried to take it from me but I chopped off his head.” He squinted. “I think it’s the right color. Her favorite color. Will she forgive me now?”

He stumbled over a dead body and dropped hard to his knees, carefully steadying the lotus in his hand. “Keep it safe. I have to keep it safe for her.”

Dare knelt down beside him, trying to bear all his weight as he
tipped to the side, unconscious. “Help me. One of you, help me,
please
.”

Bodhan joined her, shouldering the slumped body despite her initial resistance. He lowered his voice. “Cyrus is the Arendal Sword, isn’t he, Dare? Your companion shield guard to the queen is the same man who was taken from the Siren.”

There was no surprise in his voice. Dare nodded, her voice ragged as she replied, “The queen blamed herself when they told us that he was gone. She would never have put him in harm’s way. She loved him as much as I—” A sob welled up from her chest, choking her words.

The small group was somber as they studied the man who had carried a sacred flower into the remains of their carnage.

Phina broke the silence. “He is
not
the Queen’s Sword. You are mistaken. You have to be.”

Dare looked up swiftly, protective anger flaring inside her. “I have known Cyrus since he
became
an Arendal. He is like a brother to me. I lived more than thirteen years at his side. He
is
the Queen’s Sword. He’s alive and we… we need to get that ship off the ground and get him medicine and—”

Bodhan interrupted her, his attention on Freeman. “How quickly can you get the Deviant back in the air?”

Freeman glanced at the captain, who nodded in answer. He turned toward the ship, his long and powerful strides making short work of the distance.

“It won’t be long,” the captain murmured. “I’ll stay on the alert until he’s done.”

“Captain.” Bodhan sounded adamant even to Dare’s distracted ear. “I do not mean to overstep, but I believe Phina needs to help your first mate with the ship.”

Phina snarled but Bodhan was not deterred. “Perhaps it will cool her head. Allow her to think before she speaks.”

Captain Amaranthe narrowed her gaze suspiciously but she complied. “Phina, go. Now.”

When Bodhan nodded, Dare turned back to Cyrus, lifting her palm to his overly warm cheek. “He’s sick, Bodhan. But he’s alive. Cyrus is alive.”

“I know, princess. I know.”

Dawn was just breaking on the horizon when Bodhan allowed himself to relax and slip his pistol back into its holster. It was beautiful.

Had he ever enjoyed the feel of direct sunlight warming his skin until this moment? No. It had always been a reminder of his separateness, his secrets. But now he embraced the early morning light, knowing he had never had as much to lose. The secrets he kept? The people he was responsible for? The Siren that he so loved? None of it mattered as it should anymore.

Not as much as Dare.

He had lost his heart to the Queen’s Chalice. Looking back, perhaps it had been from the moment he’d carried her on board his Siren. She
had
been locked in a tower all these years, along with the Ever Young queen. And a part of him had already known that.

His suspicions about the Siren’s other half-breed arrival, Dare’s improbable naivety and unquestionable integrity… It all made sense now. Though he was not sure if his feelings ever would.

She was like no one he had ever known. Rare and precious and far more than the owner of a brothel and procurer of information deserved.

It was unbelievable to him, to think that if things had stayed as they were, he would have never known she existed. For him, it would have been a lifetime of longing for something, unable to put his finger on the what—or the who—he was waiting for.