Shared Between Them (6 page)

A week into their visit to the kingdom, however, the men were already beginning to despair about their situation. They had hoped to find another girl like Kyra, and after searching high and low the entire week through the entire elf kingdom, they came up empty-handed.

Taric was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the day. Every single empty minute between the men was tense and filled with accusation. It seemed like the more she-elves they met, the angrier Draevan became, since none of those women were Kyra.

Taric understood Draevan's anger, because he was just as angry with himself. He should have tied her up, simply put. He shouldn't have trusted her.

One day, after searching through the city one last time, they sat in their chambers eating a dinner that was laid out for them, and Draevan suddenly had enough.

“That's it!” Draevan finally said, stabbing the knife he had been distractedly playing with through the thick table in front of him. “We're going to find that lying little slut! If we can kill a giant, we can find a flute-playing, pint-sized brat!” He got up and charged through the room towards his belongings.

Taric was far from arguing. In fact, a wave of relief washed over him. He leapt up from his seat. “And when we find her…” He shook his head. “I'll make sure we keep her. I'll never go against your decisions again.”

Draevan sighed and shook his head. “No, it was an honest mistake,” he admitted. “If I didn't want her so damn badly, I might have trusted the little brat myself. She made quite a show about swearing on the life of her kin and all that.”

Taric let out a relieved breath and nodded, smirking. “It doesn't matter, Draevan. We'll find her.” He turned to his packing for this little hunt they were planning. “And when we do, I'm going to tie her to the goddamned bed for the rest of her life!”

Nothing came of his boasting, however, and they spent the entirety of the next month combing the Blue Forest for her. They found some people who had seen her, some witnesses that said they’d even found where she’d sold Draevan’s horse, but they found no leads to her whereabouts. They returned to the elf kingdom crestfallen. Draevan hadn’t said a word of grief towards Taric since they’d left to search for the girl, but somehow that only made not finding her that much worse. Taric couldn’t help feeling ashamed about being so ridiculously trusting of a girl who surely hated them.

Upon their return, they found they couldn't get over the strange morbidity of the kingdom's decorations, which were hanging on lamps and towers. They enquired, after seeing the fifth banner of a skeleton hanging from a scaffold, what the devil was going on.

They'd asked an elf boy, who rolled his young eyes at them both and replied pedantically, “It's Hanging Day!
Of course
!”

“Hanging day?” Taric echoed, furrowing his brows.

“Aye! Hanging Day! It's when all the prisoners in the dungeons are hung! One by one!” He tugged his collar and stuck out his tongue to impression the gruesome manner of death. “Everybody's going to go and watch and feast—it's a holiday.”

Taric and Draevan walked away and towards the castle, peering at each other. “Elfkind are strange folk,” Taric finally decreed, but then his shoulders slouched when he realized, with much horror, that he would have to marry one of them. “I'm beginning to think the fate of the world isn't our problem. Let's just go home and enjoy our treasure.”

“We can escape the kingdom, maybe. But we can't escape our fate, Taric,” Draevan reminded, his voice pained. “It's foretold—the chosen one will be half giant-slayer and half-elfkind. Unfortunately, I cannot think of any other giants, or of anyone who’s ever slain any… 'Tis too late. We can no sooner keep the sun from rising.”

Taric grunted unhappily, cursing his own name.

When they walked into the castle, they were told that the king requested audience with them upon their return. They were led out to the festival yard in the back of the castle, where everyone was beginning to assemble for the hangings. The king had never looked happier, his smile never redder, his piercings particularly shiny. They could almost be fooled that the king was happy to see them return, but they feared the king really just liked a good, entertaining execution.

Only an elf would view an execution like a normal person would view a picnic on a sunny spring day. Thinking about it, the only time when Draevan or Taric had ever heard of an elf being seen was when a village execution was going on. They’d heard in the nearby villages that elves would sometimes appear to watch and then leave afterwards with a spring in their step.

“Did you take care of your business, lads?” the king asked them, chortling.

“As best we could,” Draevan grumbled and plopped heavily down in the seat the king offered him. There was a turkey leg on the platter in front of him that he made quick work of as the king offered his condolences to their mood and then began to crow merrily about the hangings that were coming about.

“You see,” the king told them, “because of you lads, it's a larger event than it's ever been! Because the giant's dead, we were able to clean the untouchable thieves out of the Blue Forest and beyond! Now that there's no true danger of the giant, the bounty-hunters and royal guards have been busy bees all month long; they've been bringing back carts and carts full of thieves, murderers, poachers—you name it. I even have a couple of
beheadings
scheduled!” He clapped his hands together with excitement.

“Oh, goodie,” Taric sighed into his freshly-poured chalice of wine.

Even though they had definitely delivered their fair share of death—hell, maybe even
because
of it—Taric and Draevan were never excited to see one man after another succumb to justice. Some of their friends were forced to go to every execution growing up in their village, their fathers thinking it would teach them some sort of lesson. The only lesson their own grandfather had seen fit to teach them was that life was crueler than it needed to be. He never made them go, and so they rarely had gone.

Once the king announced to a ready crowd for the 'festivities' to commence, Draevan and Taric noticed that the worst part of a hanging wasn't the actual death. What was by far worse was the amount of groveling the poor victim would do before he was ignored and dragged up to the scaffold.

After two, even Draevan, who normally let his stomach dictate his morals before his brain was given the opportunity, had quite lost his appetite. “Excuse me, Your Highness,” he grumbled, standing from his seat. “We are tired from the journey, so we'll have to excuse ourselves…”

The king frowned. “Oh?” he said, disappointed. “But you're my honored guests… And it's just begun!” He had the look of a man who was insulted. Apparently, he was proud of this event.

“Well, the thing is…” Draevan began to say, before he was cut short as a boy with muddy, bare feet and wearing a bag on his head was led out towards the king to get his death sentence. Needless to say, the sad sight broke Draevan’s train of thought.

There was a sack on the boy's head, just like with every criminal led out, but this time when the boy was 'unveiled', the crowed hummed with excitement.

Taric's breath hitched. It wasn't a boy at all! It was
Kyra
; her coat had hid her curves, and the sack had hid everything else, even her ivory hair that was knotted messily to the back of her neck. Dirt and soot blackened whole patches of her skin, and she stood shivering in the cold, winter air. She looked like she had spent a very hard, long month in the dungeons.

Taric and Draevan watched her with their mouths open wide enough for a bird to perch on their tongue. They heard what the king was saying, “Well, well! The last of the infamous Kingsguard family finally meets its end!” he gloated. “After your brothers had a short-drop-and-a-sudden-stop, I thought you would have been gobbled up by the giant soon after!”

“Well, I'm glad my family could entertain you one last time,” she replied, spitting with disdain.

“Me as well! Farewell, Lady Kingsguard!” the king waved his hand, and the executioners grabbed her arms to drag her up the scaffold towards the noose.

Moving as one, Draevan and Taric didn't even plead to the king. Their first thought was to get her safe.

They jumped over the rail and pounced onto the ground fifteen feet below. Draevan had his sword unsheathed and raised high above his head, and the executioners stared at him with horror in their pale yellow eyes. They wouldn't fight him—elves were cowardly where battle was concerned. “Drop her,” Draevan hissed, and the executioners immediately dropped her arms and showed Draevan their hands. Elves, after all, loved executing but hated fighting.

When she was released, it was with a motion that made her topple into Taric.

The king stood up on his feet and put his hands on the rail in front of him. “What's the meaning of this, Giantsbane?” the king demanded, looking more aghast than angry. He was using the name that he’d given them when they’d first come into the kingdom. The crowd around them was certainly excited.

“This girl is under our protection,” Taric replied wrapping his arm tightly around Kyra and holding her to his chest. Surprisingly, she didn’t try to escape him. In fact, her nails were digging desperately into his arm, and she was trembling. The brave face she had displayed in front of the king was a farce. She had been horrified by her impending death.

“This girl is a wanted criminal from an old family of traitors and thieves!” the king argued firmly and loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She's an untouchable outcast! The noose is really too good for her kind!”

“We choose her as wife!” Draevan firmly and loudly decreed.

The king was so surprised that he took a step back. The crowd loudly tittered and guffawed around them. “Her?” the king asked, looking like he was unsure that he'd heard Draevan correctly. “
Her
?” he echoed. “You'd take her as wife? Out of anyone? You can have your choice of anyone in the kingdom…” he explained, which was silly of him, since he wasn't excited about giving any elf-woman to them at all, and certainly wouldn’t have ever promised one to them if he hadn't been so desperate to have someone kill that giant to get his precious shield back.

“If you will bid us a boon and pardon her, Your Highness…” Taric said, puffing out his chest. He was ordinarily horrified of speaking in front of crowds, but the girl clawing into his arm with fear was enough to keep his words loud and steady. “We will be more than happy to take her as wife and leave your good ladies to be had only by elf-kind. We have no desire to take a beloved daughter from a father, or sister from a brother.” It was a lie, of course. They would have had trouble ever being aroused by any other she-elf!

“The way we see it,” he continued, “this is the only way to keep your people from heartbreak and to save a lady from the noose.”

“Ah!” the king grinned, nodding. “
Now
I understand! You just don't want to see a female hung! I forgot how soft you humans are when it comes to women's punishments…” He straightened the robe on his shoulders, grinning. “So, I will grant you what you wish, for we owe you much, my lads! Very well! Very well, indeed!” He gave a happy laugh. “Then have your woman; she is pardoned! Kyra Kingsguard will forever be known from here forth as Kyra Giantsbane!” He gestured with his arm. “Bring the marriage chalice, and let's make this official.”

Draevan looked back and forth before putting his sword into its sheath. Taric did the same with his own, and they exchanged looks. They were surely thinking the same thing: that this was not a very romantic setting. Two men's bodies were already stacked on the other side of the yard, and many men were waiting their turn with sacks over their faces off to the other side of the stadium.

Draevan pulled Kyra out of Taric's arms so he could put his hands on the sides of her face. Adrenaline was still surging through his veins and reddening his skin. Draevan wanted to ward off any attempts at her throwing a fit and told her firmly, “You are ours now. Do you understand? Ours. You have no choice in this. Your choices are spent.” Her lip trembled in reply, and he asked in a softer tone, “Are you injured?”

She shook her head weakly, failing to meet either of their eyes. Taric couldn’t decide whether this was because she was tired, terrified, or ashamed.

Draevan took a deep, relief-filled breath but then went right back to being firm. Taric could see that he was still pride-stung from her disappearance and the taking of his horse and his heart along with her. “Good. That’s one good bit of luck out of all this. We’ve been combing the forest for you for a whole month.” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “This could have all been avoided, pet, if you just did as you were told. Let this be a firm lesson for you.”

The girl started to sniffle, but Taric looked over her head and gave the smallest of guilty grins at Draevan, and Draevan smirked back. He was happy again—they finally had the girl they'd wanted from the beginning.

“
Damn strange creatures
,” Draevan grumbled to Taric in their secret tongue. “
Who are we to agree to marry her in this hell?
”

Taric entwined his hand around Kyra's. “
Ones who don't want to wait any longer to bed their wife and leave this horrible place. This is a blessing, believe me!
” Taric was practically laughing when he said it, trying not to let himself realize that if they hadn't seen the king when they did, or if they had left sooner, or if they hadn't given up looking for Kyra when they did, she'd be dead, along with their hopes of happiness.

“Please… Please don't make me marry… I'm just… just…” she murmured, sniffling, unable to reach their eyes.

“Fifteen paces towards death?” Draevan finished, in no mood to broach any argument from her. “I can't believe you'd have the gall to refuse us. We just saved your life. You're marrying us, and that's that. Now shush with your nonsense.”

“But—but I can't marry
two
men
!” she sobbed.

“You can and you will,” Draevan argued.