The Witch's Reward (17 page)

She swallowed her anger and released his hand, spinning away to get to her gelding. “Fine,” she bit out.

He didn’t comment.

They reached her gelding and Christoff felt down its haunch to its hock, checking for swelling and heat that would signify a serious injury.

“It appears to be just bruised, but he’s still not putting much weight on it,” he said after he’d walked the horse forward a few steps. “It would be better for you to ride with me and let him have a break. We’ll have Griffen lead him behind his horse.” 

Larra remained silent as they led the gelding to Sir Griffen, before moving to Christoff’s large warhorse. She spared a last glance for the poor, defeated white animal that had given up trying to get free. Christoff had no sooner lifted her into his saddle then he returned to the broken horse. She looked away as he put it out of its misery, the combination of empathy for the horse’s suffering and regret for not being able to save its life churning within her like debris in a whirlpool. And added to those feelings was the slowly stewing anger at the sudden change in Christoff’s treatment of her.

He mounted and sat behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her as he picked up the reins. She held herself stiffly away from him as much as possible during the ride to the river, but if he noticed, he didn’t say. Despite being upset, she still couldn’t help but feel tingles where his arms touched hers and at the warmth of his chest against her back. She was perturbed to find herself physically attracted to him even in her anger. 

It took only minutes to reach the river, despite the lame gelding. After riding downstream for several minutes more, Larra finally made out the group of knights clustered together on the bank. They looked, Larra thought ironically, like they had been at war. Their horses were quiet and still, with heads drooping. Some sported gashes along their shoulders and flanks, but nothing appeared too serious. The men looked just as tired as their animals. Some of them were unharmed, while others were having arms and legs wrapped. A couple of knights were being steadied by their associates as they stood waist deep in the river.
Letting the river cleanse the wounds
. Not ideal, but definitely smart, given the circumstances. She silently counted the men, noting that they were one short.

Smithen!

She twisted in the saddle.

“What about Smithen?” she asked Christoff. They wouldn’t just leave him out on the road. Even if he was a monster, the drafts didn’t deserve to be stranded with the wagon.

“Once we set up camp, I’ll send two of the men to retrieve the drafts,” he said, his tone grim. 

Larra could tell that he didn’t want to talk, and she wondered if he was distracted because of the attack, or if it had something to do with her. She turned back around, holding herself every bit as rigid as she had before.

Christoff wasn’t a fool; he’d noticed right away that Larra was upset. He longed to pull her back, closer against his chest, and wrap his arms tightly around her. But that wasn’t a good idea—and not only because they were nearing his men. When Larra had requested permission to heal the horse, he had been reminded that as much as he had come to care for this beautiful young woman, he had perhaps been getting too close to her. He had been overcome with emotion when she had drowned, and again when he had revived her. He had been so relieved, so happy that she was alive, that all he’d wanted to do was hold her close and never let her go. But now that the quiet journey home to the city had been interrupted by the battle with the carnies, his head had cleared and he was reminded again of who he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

He was a prince, the heir to the throne. His heart might be falling for the girl seated in front of him, but there were two very large problems with forming a serious relationship with her. The first was the matter of her birth. She was from a family of unknown origins, a simple subject in his father’s kingdom. She had been raised to work for her living and knew nothing of social graces or political diplomacy. She was a commoner, and he was a prince. Every match made in the history Aggadorn’s rulers had been between people of royalty or diplomatic importance. His own mother had been very popular at court in her home country of Trigden, since her father had been one of Trigden’s royal ambassadors. His grandfather, great grandfather, and those before them had all married respectable, wealthy, or otherwise well-bred women in the effort to continue an intelligent and respectable line of leaders. Christoff seriously doubted his parents would allow him to unite with a commoner, especially since his future wife would be expected to rule beside him.

The other problem was the magic. As much as he hoped he could convince his father to let her go, to not have her executed, in truth Christoff could not guarantee Larra’s safety. Keeping the laws were paramount above all else. And if the law stated that a witch must be burned, there would be little he could do. For a short while, Christoff had almost forgotten that Larra was a witch. She ate beside him, slept beside him, rode next to him and conversed with him. He had kissed her and felt things for her that he had never felt for the ladies who attended the palace courts. But the moment she had asked to use her magic, he was reminded. He was reminded that when all was said and done, she was a witch with magical powers, he was her captor, and it was his duty to bring her to the king for judgment.

A black cloud was raining on his heart, and he would have drowned in the sorrow were it not for the logic of his mind. His head told him to stay away. He knew he needed to back off from building their relationship any stronger than it had already become. He couldn’t kiss her again, and must not give her false hopes of a future that would never be. He must think logically. He would think logically. And he would keep his distance from her.

As soon as they reached the others, Christoff flung himself off his tired horse. He barely glanced at Larra as he helped her dismount, handing her to a startled Griffen and turning away immediately so as not to see the anger and hurt in her eyes. He knew she could tell that he was distancing himself from her, and her anger at his denial to let her use her magic had been evident in the flash of her eyes and the stiffness of her body. Leaving her with Griffen, he tried to ignore the regret he felt and got to work helping his men. Griffen would aid the girl in finding whatever supplies she needed to treat the wounded.

Even though it was still daylight by the time things settled down, the horses and men were too weary to do anything more than rest. They set up camp along the riverside to prevent any more carnie attacks, though two such bizarre events in one day was more than unlikely.

Larra rested against a tree, trying not to think of the fight she had seen that day and the carnie body left in the woods. She had worked hard to stitch up the men, using the knowledge she had gained from years of study and experience to help them. More than one had been surprised at her willingness to help, and more than one had remarked at how skilled she was as a healer. If they thought she was good without magic, they should see how good she was
with
her magic, she had thought with some amusement.

She was chewing on a biscuit when a shout came from the edge of camp. The draft horses were brought into the clearing, none the worse for wear. It wasn’t until the two men leading the horses halted them and began to remove their harnesses that she noticed the wagon was missing. 

Larra stopped chewing, her biscuit forgotten as she slowly rose to her feet. Christoff had ignored her for much of the afternoon, and she’d let him. But now she needed to talk to him. He had approached the two knights working on the drafts and was speaking to them in low tones when she arrived at his side.

“Christoff…?”

“That carnie that ran its horse into yours today—the one that I killed? It got to him first. The wagon was taken down river to be washed out.”

She gasped, understanding perfectly what he meant: Smithen had been eaten alive. He had been a truly evil man, a killer, but even she wouldn’t have wished such a death on him.

“We had almost finished the battle when the carnie took off down the road. I saw it leave and knew that it would find you. They can smell blood, sense it from a mile away. I ran after it as soon as I could, following it down the road. I thought it would get to you and Griffen, and it would have if it hadn’t stopped for Smithen first. In a sense, his life was traded for yours. There is a sense of justice in it, despite how horrific it must seem.”

She was disturbed. Just the thought of the man trapped in the wagon…She tried not to dwell on it. Without replying, she returned to her tree. She did not finish her meal.

Chapter 19

“Sir? Counselor Lucien?” the timid voice came from behind. The gold-colored carpeting that extended down the long hallway did nothing to mask the angry tread of Lucien’s footsteps as he headed to his office. Annoyed and on the verge of committing an act of violence that would surely reach the queen’s ears, Lucien reined in his anger and stopped. Struggling to compose himself, he turned and pasted on a fake smile.

“Yes?”

The servant practically trembled in his shoes. His pudgy hands were clasped tightly together in front of his chest. “Uh, sir, I’ve been asked by the other counselors to inquire about a time for the meeting.”

“What meeting?” Lucien hissed. He didn’t have time for this.

“The weekly meeting that was supposed to be this morning, but was cancelled because of the king’s illness.” The timid man couldn’t surmise the courage to look Lucien in the face, instead focusing on a spot on the plush carpet.

“Tell them it will have to be postponed indefinitely. The king’s health is our sole concern.”

“Of course, sir.”

Lucien watched the frightened mouse of a man run away, presumably to inform the counselors of the delayed meeting. Though they didn’t know it, they would be waiting forever for the meeting to occur, because the king would never get well. 

With a little roar of frustration, Lucien turned back around and continued down the hall, oblivious to the pristine, marble walls and flowering plants that made it a peaceful, lovely place. He didn’t have time to enjoy the pretty atmosphere. He didn’t have time for anything.

After the carnies’ failure to follow through with their end of the bargain the day before, Lucien was left feeling harried and a little desperate. At least they had managed to kill that buffoon, Smithen, before he could be made to confess his connection with Lucien. But why were that stupid prince and the witch still alive? The group would reach the castle within the next couple of days, and for some inconceivable reason Steffan was still breathing. That last batch of tea should have finished him off. Instead, it had merely made him into an invalid. Everything would be ruined if the witch reached the palace and used her magic to heal the king. 

He struggled to gain control of his thoughts. They were whirling around him like a twister, scattering all sense of logic. He had to think. There was no way he could sneak another cup of poisoned tea to Steffan with Lissa hovering by his side day and night. He hadn’t counted on her spending every moment with him, though he should have foreseen it. Heaven only knew why the woman was so in love with that man. Lucien could only hope that with the king’s death, her ridiculous infatuation would finally be over.

No, at this point his best course was to keep the witch away from the king long enough for the man to finally succumb to death.

And he knew just how to do it.

Chapter 20

By morning the day after the attack, Larra had gotten over the horror of Smithen’s demise, but found herself still deeply troubled by what had happened between her and Christoff. More than ever, she was sure he had only been pretending his affection for her. The drastic change in his treatment of her followed into the new day, beginning with a clipped response at her “good morning” and continuing with evasion of her very presence. Not even the cool, crisp autumn air or the pretty forest scenery, with dewy moisture clinging to tree leaves like diamonds, was enough to pull her away from her disturbing thoughts.

Needing a diversion, she turned to Griffen, who was riding beside her. “What else can you tell me about carnies? I’ve heard quite a bit, but there’s still a lot I don’t know.”

“They’re immortal,” Griffen explained. “As long as they can feast upon living blood, they can live forever—as far as we can tell. Killing them is a difficult task; which is why we’ve been battling them nonstop for the last two decades.” 

“But I saw how he stopped you from moving with just a flick of his hand. How can you engage them in battle when they have that kind of power?” she asked. Recalling how easily Griffen had been rendered powerless, she began to understand the fear that people had of witches. It would be a horrible thing not knowing if a person would use his or her power to harm you.

“If we don’t plan an ambush just right, so that there are at least two men for every carnie, then we are defeated,” Griffen answered. “An attack by a single person is useless, as a carnie will simply use its magic to stop that person and then kill and eat him. With two people, one can keep the carnie occupied while the other delivers a blow to the heart that will stun the carnie long enough to remove the organ. But even then, it is a difficult task. You saw how easily he fought us, and with only knives to our swords. Their magic and immortality make them strong and fast. That is why so many innocent people have died along the edges of the desert. And that is why we have been training so hard to fight them. They are the worst threat this kingdom has.”

“You said they live by the desert. Is that because there is so little water there?” she pushed for more details.

“Yes. You’ve seen for yourself that it burns their flesh like fire.”

“But why is that? What could have caused that in creatures that look so human?”

“We really don’t know. There are stories that men with magic tried to cross the desert from a distant land. But when they ran out of water, the combination of sun and magic made them so insane that they turned on each other and drank the blood of the weakest among them to survive. When they finally reached the end of the desert, at the border of Aggadorn, they had gone completely mad.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

Griffen shook his head. “Nobody does; though the king has people working to discover the truth. But that’s been going on for years. Who knows if we will ever find out where they came from? It’s all we can do to keep them from killing innocent people.”

Larra asked a few more questions and Griffen told her what he knew. It was both exciting and frightening to learn so much after a lifetime of ignorance. 

She thought again about her grandmother and if she would ever see her again. She hoped so. She also hoped that Christoff would be true to his promise to speak to the king; his support could only aid in her freedom. He seemed to be a man of his word, but after the radical change in his behavior towards her, she couldn’t help doubting him. Her heart felt like it had been the one ripped from its chest, not the carnie’s. It made her wish he had never kissed her at all. At least that way she wouldn’t know what she was missing; because right now, she missed him as much as she was angry with him.

The men’s spirits seemed to rise as the day passed. They came across signs of civilization, including a few small villages. The group briefly stopped at a small shop in one settlement, and afterwards Larra was surprised when Sir Griffen handed her a pair of shoes.

“For you. The captain purchased them.”

Larra was elated. The wraps protecting her feet got dirty every time she dismounted. Her cuts were healed, but it would be far more pleasant to move around with hard soles beneath her feet. She wanted to thank Christoff, who was mounting his horse a good distance away, but he merely nodded in acknowledgment of the deed and rode ahead.

Later, when they stopped for lunch, Larra’s patience finally ran out. She’d never considered herself an impatient sort of person, but where Christoff and his many personalities were concerned, she couldn’t withstand another moment without knowing exactly why he was treating her so impersonally. She had her assumptions, but she needed to hear it from him.

She swallowed a few bites of her meal before setting down the remains and rising to her feet. Griffen, who had continued to stay with her, lifted his head in surprise.

“Is everything all right?”

“It will be.” She stalked off before he could respond and headed directly for Christoff, who was leaning against the wide trunk of a tree on the outskirts of the small glen. She ignored the telltale grins and whispers the knights made as she passed, having been too caught up in her own thoughts over the last several days to realize that the men had noticed everything happening between their captain and their hostage. They’d seen the attraction blooming between the two and had even begun betting as to the outcome of their captain’s relationship with the pretty witch.

Christoff pushed away from the trunk when he saw her approaching, his body tall and stiff, as if prepared for an even worse battle than the one he had fought the day before.

“Let’s not discuss this here for everyone to see. Come,” he said, stepping deeper into the woods.

His assumption that she would follow made her anger flare. She was coming to realize that he was quite arrogant, even for a king’s captain. He seemed to believe that he could control everything, including people’s emotions. And while she was technically still a prisoner, and he had every right to command her obedience in things relating to her imprisonment, this particular issue was personal. He had moved their relationship beyond that of jailer and prisoner and into something far more intimate when he had kissed her that first time. True, there had been an attraction from the beginning, but he had not been forced to kiss her like that. He either cared for her or he didn’t, wanted to be with her or he didn’t. But he couldn’t have it all. He had to choose. She had only one more day before meeting the king for judgment, and she would not let Christoff disturb her anymore by playing with her feelings and giving her false hope. The time to reckon had come.

“How dare you treat me this way! How dare you make me care for you one moment and disregard me like a worn-out shoe the next!” she lashed out the instant they had found a secluded spot. She knew the volume of her tirade was loud enough to scare the birds from the trees, but she didn’t care.

He had known this was coming, she could tell. She could see the resignation in his eyes. If he thought she was the same innocent, small-town girl that he had met days before, the one who was afraid of her own shadow, he had another think coming. Because if she had learned anything over the last several days, it was that she had found her backbone after all. Chin raised, shoulders back, she let him have it, holding nothing in.

“You’ve been toying with me, like a cat with a mouse. One minute making me believe you care, the next treating me like I don’t matter. It’s despicable of you to do such a thing, not to mention cruel. No woman deserves to be treated by a man the way you’ve treated me.”

But instead of looking chagrined at her rebuke, he instead adopted an air of coolness, almost haughtiness.

“Larra,” he said, his even, controlled tone grating on her every nerve. “I know you’re confused, so just be quiet and let me explain.” 

She took a couple of deep breaths, fighting for control. When she was once again calm, he continued matter-of-factly, “The truth is that I have felt things for you, an attraction stronger than any I have ever felt for anyone. When you drowned, I was devastated knowing that it had been my fault that Smithen had gotten to you. I was so relieved that you were alive that my emotions overtook me.

“Yes, I kissed you. But when those carnies attacked yesterday, I was reminded of my duty. The fact remains that you are a witch and I am your jailer, and nothing either of us do or say can change that. I will honor my promise to you and speak to my…king about you. I will tell him what the gnomes said and how compliant you’ve been under arrest. However, even if you are released—which I can’t guarantee—we still couldn’t be together.”

Larra stepped back, surprised more at his words than the almost careless way he had given them. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean that even if you come out of this alive and free, we can never have a future together. That is why I’ve been avoiding you; because now that I’m finally in control of my emotions and can think clearly, I realize that we,” he motioned back and forth between them, “cannot continue.”

“I don’t understand how you could come to that conclusion. Why couldn’t we have a future together?”

“The reason isn’t important—just know that it can’t be done. I’m telling you this so that you don’t keep hoping for something that will never happen. There can be no happy ending for us. And that is why I’ve been distancing myself from you; because it would be more painful for you in the end, were we to continue this farce of a relationship.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she finally said, her voice low and filled with pain. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she hastily blinked them back. “You say that there is no future for us, but you won’t tell me why.”

“
Can’t
tell you, not won’t.”

“Can’t, won’t—what difference does it make? You deceived me. You led me on. You made me hope for…” she choked down a sob, her arms wrapping around her middle as if to hold in the pain. “I despise you.”

“I don’t blame you,” he responded hoarsely. “Let me take you back to the glen.” He tried to guide her by placing a hand on her lower back, but she moved away, rejecting even that simple courtesy. 

If she’d have turned back, if she’d looked, really looked, she would have seen that the cool, determined exterior he wore had cracked. She would have realized just how much her words had hurt him, and that the front he’d worn had been nothing but a shield to protect himself every bit as much as he was trying to protect her.

She would have known just how effectively her last words had thrust into his heart, ripping a hole in his chest. Known how it was killing him to hurt her this way.

But she didn’t turn around. And she didn’t look back.

The men looked up expectantly when Larra and Christoff returned from the woods. But if they were hoping to catch evidence of the two lovebirds having kissed, they were sorely disappointed. Instead of two young lovers emerging from the woods, what appeared was a pale, tragic-looking young woman dressed in men’s clothing, and one stricken, despairing prince. Whatever had happened hadn’t been good, and no one dared say a word as they prepared to leave the glen. They were almost home, anyway, and things would soon be resolved.

Larra knew Griffen saw the look of defeat on her face, and he stayed close by her side as they rode.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Knowing that she would burst into tears if she answered truthfully, she just shook her head.

“Arrogant young pup,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “I might have to talk to that young man. He knows better than to break a girl’s heart.”

She needed to change the subject, and quick, or she would fall apart and everyone would see.

“Tell me about the woman you loved, Griffen. You said that she left you. Tell me why someone you thought you loved would reject you in such a way.”

After a pause, he said, “I’ve hardly spoken of it to anyone, but under the circumstances, I think now is better than any for sharing the tale. I was younger back then, and training for a reputable leadership position. I had stars in my eyes, thinking I would be an important man in the king’s army, and she was in trade and had come to the city to perfect her skills. We met accidentally in the market where she sold her creations. It was love at first sight.”

“What do you think made her run away? What could have made her scorn your love enough to leave you?”

“The only thing I can think of is that our careers got in the way. I never did get around to asking her to marry me; she left before I could. I suppose I took too long. That or she never really loved me as I supposed. She had this incredible gift for weaving and was as dedicated to her work as I was to mine. Now that I think back, I suppose it might have meant more to her than I did, and she saw me as a threat that got in her way of success. But I don’t want to believe that, not after the days we spent together. I can’t see her doing something so selfish.”

Larra thought she was dreaming.
He couldn’t be!
But she wasn’t stupid. All the pieces were there: the history her grandmother had shared, the knowledge that her mother had been in love with a man intent on his career, her leaving the man she loved because she wanted him to live the life he wanted, the heartache, the unknown, the questions. Suddenly it all made sense—this man was her father!