Kisri: ... and the Beast, Book 2 (6 page)

But he opened his arms wide to her. “Kisri. It’s good to have you here, safe.”

Just like that she was young again, throwing herself into the arms of the man who had been her friend and protector. The man who had taken her into his heart like a sister and encouraged her to learn the ways she could protect herself while quietly ensuring she’d never need to use them.

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how desperately she’d missed her family.

“Shh,” he whispered, holding her tight. “You’re all right now.”

She shouldn’t tell him that she
had
been all right. That the relief washing over her was that of a woman who’d found her loved ones, not a girl afraid of the world. She hadn’t been afraid since the first night Ennon had run with her, when he’d tumbled her to the grass and let her go. All that strength at her disposal, and how could anyone be frightened with the First Warlord of the plains at her back?

She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t open Ennon to her cousin’s suspicion, so instead she eased back and fought for the bored disinterest of a noble lady complimenting an underling. “Ennon was an excellent guardian.”

Mal’s brows drew together in a fleeting frown, one that vanished in an instant. “Ennon?”

The other lion stepped forward. “My lord?”

The High Lord glanced at his second with enough shrewd curiosity to make Kisri wonder if she’d tipped her hand, exposed them both. But he only said, “You have my gratitude.”

Ennon dropped his gaze to the ground. “My lord.”

She wished she’d said her goodbyes properly. She wished she’d kissed Ennon another time, had whispered to him that it wouldn’t be the last time. She wished she’d had the courage to ask him if he wanted it to be the last time, or if he’d fight for her as she wanted to fight for him.

Now they had only awkwardness and silence, for nothing of substance could pass between them under Mal’s watchful gaze. So she cleared her throat and tried to say with her eyes what she could no longer say with her words. “Thank you, First Warlord. I owe you a great debt.”

“You owe me nothing.” The words were innocuous enough, save for the fine thread of pain that wound through them, a pain that took root in her heart and made her entire chest ache.

It would work out, if only she kept Ennon from leaving the camp. At least until she found a way to talk to him without her cousin standing over them. “Perhaps you could dine with us tonight?”

He was shaking his head before she finished the words, but Mal cut in. “Of course he shall. Where else would he dine?”

Ennon’s mouth snapped shut, and he nodded. “Of course.”

The camp was likely ill-equipped for her to play lady of the palace for them, but she’d never been very accomplished at the quiet tasks of a gently bred noble woman. That she felt the lack now was truly the height of folly. Here she was, saddled with a helpless desire to seduce Ennon with her suitability as a wife, even though the skills required had never interested her before.

One thing was certain—if she didn’t retreat and gather her senses, her desperation would show all too clearly on her face. She turned her back on Ennon as if she’d already forgotten him and smiled at her cousin. “Do you have a place where I can clean up and rest for a few hours?”

He answered absently. “I’ve cordoned off a section at the center of camp with extra guards. Use it as you wish.”

“Will you show me?”

Mal muttered something under his breath, so low even she couldn’t understand, and offered her his arm. “Cousin.”

There were undercurrents here she didn’t understand, perhaps
couldn’t
. So she settled her hand on Mal’s arm and promised herself she wouldn’t let Ennon suffer the consequences of her curiosity.

Mal patted her hand, deep in thought. “How was your journey?”

“Well enough.” Her cousin navigated the camp effortlessly, though she supposed it was easy enough when his men all but flung themselves out of the way, creating an unencumbered path between the long rows of tents. The encampment itself was almost identical to the ones in which she’d been hiding—browns and tans, endless canvas and rope, and a field turned to dirt by thousands of boots.

Eventually they reached a large tent, indistinguishable from the others save for the sheer number of armed guards surrounding it. “This is yours,” Mal told her. “I stocked it as best I could.”

Inside, she found the closest thing to luxury that she’d seen in months. A simple cot, perhaps, but piled high with blankets and pillows. A soft rug covered the ground, and sturdy furniture provided a table large enough to share meals as well as another chair more suited to lounging, perhaps with one of the leather-bound books stacked on the side table beside the glass lantern.

Care and thought had gone into everything, and tears stung her eyes until she blinked them away. “Thank you, Mal.”

“You’re welcome.” He drew in a deep breath. “We’ll finish breaking camp tomorrow and head back to the palace. You can decide then what you want to do next.”

Kisri sank into the more comfortable chair with a tiny sigh of relief. “What will you do?”

“Get used to ruling in a time of peace, I suppose.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Take up a few new hobbies?”

“And will you follow in our uncle’s footsteps and try to marry me off?”

His gaze sharpened. “I rather thought I’d let
you
decide that matter.”

It would not be wise to forget her cousin was a shrewd tactician—and that he’d known her for her entire life. Kisri glanced at her hands, which had somehow ended up tangled up in her lap, fingers entwined so tightly they ached. “I know I could have already been married, but most of the men who might have appreciated a lady with more spirit than decorum were at war. I didn’t desire an old man who only wanted me in hopes of gaining your ear.”

“You sound as though you’ve given it some thought,” he said casually.

She sidestepped. “I gave plenty of thought to what I did not want when it was being forced on me day after day.”

Mal flashed a feral grin. “No one will force you to do anything, cousin. On pain of death.”

That, at least, she believed. “And you’ll respect my choice, whether he’s a peasant or a noble or not a lion at all?”

He nearly winced. “Not a lion at all? Isn’t that taking things a bit far?”

Kisri laughed and teased him with a careless shrug. “We’re allies with the wolves now, are we not? Surely your friend the High Lord has many handsome wolves under his command.”

“None fitting for a royal lioness,” he grumbled.

“Oh, Mal.” She rocked to her feet and up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be so grumpy, cousin. The war is over, and now you can go home and marry a pretty lioness and have dozens of babies who will keep you too busy to frown at me.”

“I still worry about you, and about Ennon.” He paused. “He was very quiet when you arrived.”

He was circling like any good lion, stalking the truth as his prey. Kisri evaded him by patting his cheek. “You should glance in a mirror. Your scowl is even more intimidating than it used to be. If I weren’t a royal brat, I might be quiet too.”

Mal sighed and ducked away from her. “My scowls have never affected him that way before.”

She had to be careful to skirt around an outright lie. “I
was
a trial to deal with. I imagine he finds silence safer than such an admission.”

“Perhaps.” Mal strode to the tent’s makeshift door and turned to look at her. “Dinner. I’ll have the cooks prepare something special tonight, in your honor.”

“I’ll be prepared,” she replied, hoping her smile was as easy as her voice. It would give her a few hours’ time, in any case. A few hours to devise a plan that would steal her precious secret minutes with the First Warlord. In the midst of the High Lord’s own camp.

She could only hope tactical cunning ran in their family.

The first thing Mal did was hit him.

Ennon took the punch because he deserved it, and because the High Lord wouldn’t have doled it out if he hadn’t already figured out what had happened.

At least partly. No way did he suspect what Ennon had really done, because he wouldn’t have limited himself to a punch. No, he’d have come at him with claws and teeth, and Ennon would have been fighting for his life instead of rubbing a sore jaw.

“You son of a
bitch
,” Mal growled. “I gave you one task—
one
.”

“I know.” Ennon rose and waited for the next blow. “I brought her back safe.”

“But not untouched.” The High Lord’s biting stare dared him to deny it.

He couldn’t, of course. “No, not untouched. But I took nothing by force.”

“Oh, I don’t give a damn, En,” Mal spat. “I didn’t accuse you of rape. I accused you of flouting my orders, and of taking advantage of an innocent.”

How could he possibly defend himself when it was all true? He’d known that taking her, initiating her into the ways of sex, was better saved for the man who would take her as his wife as well as his mate. Anything less wasn’t fitting for a royal like the High Lord’s cousin.

He squared his shoulders. “I did things I should not have done, but Kisri didn’t suffer. She won’t, not after I’m gone.” Too bad he couldn’t say the same for himself.

Mal closed his mouth abruptly and stared at Ennon. “You mated her. I felt the echo of it when the two of you came into camp, thought it must have been my imagination, but it’s real. You mated her.”

It felt like more of a damnation than a blow from Mal’s fist. “Kisri—she doesn’t know.”

He’d thought Mal couldn’t look more surprised, but his friend’s mouth dropped open. “
Why?
”

“It was an accident,” Ennon ground out harshly. “I never meant for it to happen, and she can’t know. She
can’t
. She’s already had idiots fighting over her because of her royal birthright, and I refuse to let her think I did this so she’d have to pick me.”

“Too bad, because now she’s bound to you, whether she likes it or not.”

“Temporarily.” The reminder brought pain, but not as much as he deserved. “For a short time. Then she can let go, and it will be as if it never happened.”

His friend watched him intently. “Not as simple for you, though. You’ll be mated to her until you die, even if she rejects you. Even if you mate another, you’ll feel her loss.”

He hoped he would. At least he would have that much of her to hold, no matter what happened. “I know.”

“Dinner,” Mal said abruptly.

Ennon blinked at the non sequitur. “Dinner?”

“Dinner. In honor of Kisri’s arrival, so it would hardly be fitting for you to skip it.”

He was certain that Mal’s intention had been to eject him from the camp, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. “I still have my things packed. I was going to go—”

“Dinner,” Mal said again, his tone implacable. “That’s an order, Ennon. And try to follow this one.” With that, he turned and stalked off.

Chapter Six

Dinner was miserable, mostly because Ennon had no idea what Mal had up his sleeve.

Kisri seemed in good spirits, though she spent the first part of the meal darting frantic looks at Ennon’s jaw while Mal ate and drank and pretended not to watch them.

No matter. Whatever future hell his friend had planned for him, it couldn’t be worse than the torment of not even being able to offer Kisri a reassuring look or smile.

A particularly long silence fell as Kisri refilled her glass. Her third serving of wine, and her cheeks were flushed. She took a sip, then shifted her gaze from Ennon to Mal and back. “If dinners at the palace are going to be this awkward, I may eat in my rooms.”

Mal lifted both eyebrows and picked up his own goblet. “Ennon won’t be accompanying us to the palace. Will you, En?”

He dropped his fork and laid his napkin on the table. “No, I won’t.”

Kisri’s eyes narrowed. “Are you staying to oversee the disbandment of the army, then?”

“In part.” That much he would be doing, anyway. “Then I’ll be headed to my own home.”

She was still watching him with that shrewd, suspicious look. “I suppose your estates suffered for lack of your attention.”

“I’ve been away a long, long time.” Perhaps the less said, the better.

“Of course.” But she was stubborn, and turned her gaze on her cousin. “If the two of you have some great secret, you can excuse yourselves and see to whatever matters you deem too serious for me to handle.”

“On the contrary, I’ve no great secret.” Mal shrugged and rose. “Ennon, however, has something to discuss with you before he leaves, so I shall leave you to it.”

Damn him. “Mal—”

“Shut up and get to it, Ennon,” he said pleasantly, already walking away.

The tent flap had barely closed behind him when Kisri bit off an entirely unladylike curse. “He hit you, didn’t he?”

“Just once.” Ennon rubbed his jaw. “Really, I deserved more.”

“Because you seduced his foolish little cousin who doesn’t know better, I suppose.” She drank half of her wine in one gulp, then leaned forward. “Did you tell him that it was my idea? Or did you let him think I’m too witless to want a man without being coerced?”

He bristled. “No one
lets
Mal think anything. Not that it matters. I knew very well when he put you in my care that I was meant to keep my hands to myself.”

“And you did not.” Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “Are you being punished for it? Banished from court? Because I won’t allow it to happen.”

There was no way out of it now, no way to keep his secret. “Mal is upset that I bedded you, but that isn’t the—I—damn it.” He couldn’t do it.

Now she simply seemed confused. “What could he possibly find more—” Her teeth snapped together. Her dark eyes widened. “No. I would
know
.”

“Would you?” he asked wearily. “Because I mated you, Kisri. Not on purpose—I wouldn’t have done that to you for the world—but it still happened.”

For an eternity she simply watched him, her eyes unreadable, her breathing ragged. The noises of the camp drifted on outside, soldiers making rounds, the wind tugging at the tent, fires crackling in a hundred tents as men prepared to return to their homes.