The Mercenary's Marriage (4 page)

Finding herself swamped by gray fabric, Brice
felt a bit overwhelmed. Long fingers firmly fastened the clasp and
raised the hood to almost hide her face from sight. “There,” the
warrior before her declared, “You can hide from everything in
there.” Lifting the edge of the hood and peeking from beneath it,
Brice was surprised at the laughter in the man's eyes. It promptly
disappeared though. Another loud blast vibrated though the camp.
“Come,” he instructed and strode to the entrance of the tent.
Gathering the excess material like a highborn lady gathers her
skirt, Brice hurried to obey.

The morning passed smoothly once Brice grew
accustomed to the horse's lolling gait. The company traveled at the
speed of the foot soldiers and Darius stayed near the king. Before
mounting, he had donned many pieces of gear including a large
sword. Brice initially found sharing the saddle with a fully armed
mercenary awkward, but eventually she became comfortable with his
constant arm around her waist and strong presence at her back.

In the late morning, the company stopped for
a quick meal. Before they ate, Darius decided to bring her to see
the supply master. Weaving back through the large wagons that had
lumbered along behind them, Darius brought her directly up to the
largest one. “Master Kline, I have a challenge for you,” he said to
the elderly man sitting in the shade of the wagon.

“So you say, my boy,” the man answered before
looking up from his harness mending. “I have been outfitting
soldiers, archers, and all manner of warriors for many years. What
kind of challenge could you offer me?”

“A rare one I am sure.” Darius waved Brice
forward. “This woman needs clothing and foot gear.”

The man's eyes widened and carefully looked
her up and down. “Take off the cloak, child,” he instructed, “And
help me up, boy.” Flapping a hand at Darius, he readied himself to
rise. Dutifully, Darius took the older man's flailing limb and
pulled him to his feet. The man immediately began to circle Brice
and mutter to himself. Darius took her cloak and stepped back.
Folding his arms across his chest, he stood there, watchfully
waiting.

“So where did he find you?” Master Kline
asked before tugging at Brice’s dirt-covered skirt. Only the
morning before it had been one of her best, but after the tumble in
the dirt, a night's sleep, and so much time on the horse, the
material was never going to be the same.

“Well, child,” the older man prompted her as
he frowned on her dirty bare feet. “Don't tell me he found you in a
palace.” He winked at her and then went back to frowning.
“Obviously he does not know how to treat a lady.” Clicking his
tongue and wagging his head, he turned to Darius. “You have much to
learn, boy.”

“Just dress her, Kline, and stop lecturing
me.” Darius did not sound pleased with the Master Kline. The older
man, however, did not seem bothered by the prospect of a large
foreign mercenary being angry with him.

“The cloak just needs hemming, which you can
do yourself, right child?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Brice nodded.

“Good.” Standing back, the man began to
stroke his scruffy chin. “All the boots I have will be too big, but
how do some leather shoes sound?” Master Kline looked over at the
soldier.

Darius nodded. “She will be spending most of
her time on my horse, not her feet. That should suit.”

“I have a rather worn tunic and surcoat
somewhere that will hold up better than this flimsy stuff.” The man
lifted some of Brice's skirt. The dress had never been fancy, but
it was not made for travel either.

“How soon?” Darius asked.

“This evening,” Kline answered. “I will also
provide a needle, thread and scissors for her cloak. Now move on,
you two, I have work to do.” Turning, he headed back toward his
wagon.

“Come.” Darius took her cloak and wrapped it
around her shoulders. “I am sure you are hungry.”

After making sure the clasp was secure,
Darius led her back toward their earlier position. His large
straight back was easy to follow, but she found it difficult to
keep up with his stride. His legs were so much longer than hers. As
they passed other companies gathered around the meal wagons,
Brice's mouth began to water. Yes, she was hungry.

They stopped in the late afternoon near a
river, but neither one of them dismounted. Brice longed to stretch
her numb legs and aching back, but Darius had other ideas. He
guided their mount straight into the river. Brice tensed as the
animal’s head lowered to drink. The muscles in her back clenched
and she carefully peered down past her feet. Swift-flowing water
coursed between the horse’s legs. The animal was standing knee high
in the river.

“We are just stopping for the horses to
drink,” Darius said from behind her. The horse slurped loudly to
emphasize the obvious. A heavy silence fell between them. Brice
looked around. Other horses were similarly occupied, but none were
as far from shore as them.

Darius sighed. “I was going to wait until
tonight to do this, but since we must wait for the horses….” He
shifted his weight and used the arm that had been around her waist
to reach for something. Brice panicked. Curling her fingers around
the front edge of the saddle, she prayed desperately the beast
would not move. All it would take was a small nudge and she would
fall right into the river. “There it is,” her companion muttered.
“Hold still.”

Rough leather covered fingers encircled the
left side of her neck. Brice shivered and forgot about her fear of
falling.
What is he doing?
Her throat closed and she
considered screaming.
Who would stop him?
No one would. He
could do as he willed with her. She was his property. A glint in
her peripheral vision was the only warning she was given before
cold metal touched her throat.

“Hold still,” Darius instructed again. Tears
filled Brice’s eyes.
He is going to kill me,
she thought as
the metal moved against her skin. She squeezed her eyes closed and
willed the tears not to fall.
I will not die a coward.
Courage.
Her heart raced as his grip on her slave collar
tightened. Then suddenly, with a sharp jerk, it was gone; her
collar was gone.

No sooner had she realized what he had just
done than his hand was back at her throat. Tilting her chin up, he
bent his head to examine her neck.

“Good,” he said mildly. He sheathed his blade
and then asked, “Do you want to keep it?” He extended his left hand
so she could see the strip of leather that lay there. It was
strange looking, lying there limp and broken. Brice never thought
she would see it in someone’s hand. Shaking, she turned her face
away. “I don’t blame you,” he said. Flinging it into the water,
Darius gathered the reins and urged the horse to raise his
head.

Tears coursed down Brice’s face. They were
not tears of joy.
I don’t understand.
She had never felt so
confused and afraid in her life.
This man does not make sense
and it scares me.

“We will reach Kiylin in a few days,” Darius
told Brice later that afternoon. The horse beneath them whinnied
and shook his head. Brice did not respond. “Timothy and I live in a
house in the servants’ village.” The girl shifted sleepily. She had
not had much rest last night and he had no idea how well she had
been able to sleep the nights before the siege broke. Sliding the
arm around her waist higher, he tried to encourage her to lean
against him. She resisted. He loosened his grip. “It is not much,
but Timothy and I are comfortable there.”

“Why don't you live in the castle?” She
asked.

“The servants of the castle know more about
what is really going on than the inhabitants.” He explained. “I
also like to get away from the intrigue and politics when I am off
duty.”

“How often is that?”

He smiled. She was interested. “I am on
scheduled duty almost daily for four or more hours at a time. The
king's needs vary and he sends for me when he needs me. I travel
when the king travels, unless he wishes for me to be protecting
someone or something else.”

“Like the queen?”

He nodded. “Like the queen or one of the
princes.”

They rode in silence for a while. Brice's
head kept dropping forward and the curls escaping her braid would
fall into her face. Jerking herself awake, she would suddenly
straighten and push them out of her face again. After a
particularly sudden movement from Brice, their horse snorted a
complaint and sped up briefly.

“You really should lean back against me,
Brice,” Darius pointed out. “Next time, he might bolt. I promise I
will not let you slip.”

At first, Brice continued to sit poker
straight and face forward as though she had not heard him. Then,
slowly her shoulders lowered and reluctantly she responded, “Very
well.”

Allowing his arm to pull her closer, she
leaned back against him. Bringing his shoulders forward and
tightening his grip, Darius fitted her smaller frame against his.
Drawing his cloak about them, he almost hid her from view. “Sleep
easy,” he murmured, although he suspected from the relaxed way she
sank against him, she was already almost asleep.

What have I gotten myself into?
He
wondered as he caught the King's amused glance their way.

“We can send out messengers,” Arcan, King
Jenran’s chief advisor, announced his solution to the group. They
were gathered in King Jenran’s tent after a long day of travel.
Darius stood at attention at his post to Jenran’s left. To the
king’s right stood Darius’ friend, Ewian. Gathered around them were
the highest-ranking men in their army. General Trinight frowned at
Arcan.

“Even if we sent men yesterday, the Lords
would not have sufficient time to send help for our arrival at
Kiylin.” The General gestured toward Trenar, the chief of the
King’s intelligence and declared, “I vote we use those men to scout
out ahead. I would like to know what we are walking into. That way
we can strategize our assault, if necessary. It will increase our
chances of success. If Kiylin is indeed under rebel control, we
will need the best strategy we can develop.”

“First, we need to know how widespread this
rebellion is.” Lord Tiren pointed out as he rose to his feet. “We
do not know if Micrey received support or rejection from those
stops he made on his way from Kiylin to his vargar. If he received
support, Kiylin is the least of our worries, for we will have to
find an ally and gather forces for defense of the King. If Micrey
received a cool reception, we can focus our efforts on Kiylin and
plan accordingly.”

“So,” Arcan said as he looked over at the
General. “We are back to sending messengers.”

“No.” Trenar’s voice cut across Arcan’s with
a tone of authority. “We know that Micrey received very cold
greetings from all but one of the lords he sought.” Then, he fell
silent.

“And…” Arcan prompted.

“The king has already been informed and the
traitor will be dealt with.” Trenar glanced at the King and
received a nod in return. The room fell silent. “As to the current
situation, I would advise that we send a scout ahead to Kiylin to
assess what awaits us there. Meanwhile, the army should follow at
the fastest pace possible. My quickest man should be able to make
the trip there and back in three days.”

“Then that is what we will do.” The King
announced his decision before any could comment more. “You may
leave me,” he said standing to his feet. Then he turned to Darius
and Ewian. “You both come with me.”

Darius and Ewian followed him through the
flap into his sleeping area. A meal lay on a low table and the king
seated himself at the end. Motioning for them to stand before him,
he leaned forward with a frown. “I am not content with waiting. The
Queen was not in the best of health when we left Kiylin and I am
eager to hear news of her. As you both know, I have sent messages
to her repeatedly since we cornered Micrey. None of them were
answered and the messengers did not return. Trenar believes that
they were intercepted and I am losing patience. If we do not have
news by the end to two days, I am taking a group of men and
traveling ahead.”

“Sire,” Ewian said. “I fear that would be
foolhardy. The decreased numbers would put you at risk.”

“Not if there are traitors in our midst even
now, as Trenar believes. His men have seen signs that someone is
stealing our supplies and sending information to an unknown
contact. One message was intercepted that hinted at my death. He is
still trying to corner the leak, but it is difficult in an army two
thousand strong.” He sighed. “I may be safer among a group of
handpicked men, loyal only to me. Even if they are fewer in number,
I will not have to be concerned about finding an assassin’s knife
in my back. I have not decided on the matter, but I want you both
to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

Darius nodded, but his heart was heavy with
indecision. “Sire, if there is danger, you should have someone
guarding you more closely.”

The King smiled. “Trenar and Regan have
already tightened my security far more than I can stand. I sleep
with my sword at my side as I did when I was fighting for the
throne in my youth. Go and be at peace, Darius. I am as safe as I
can be at this moment. I just do not wish to go into the battle for
Kiylin defending my back as well as my front.”

“Very well, Sire.”

“I had to argue with the mess master for
twenty minutes just to get this.” Timothy, Darius' armor bearer's
voice carried clearly in the night air. Brice heard it perfectly
through the tent wall and the heavy wool fabric of the dress she
was attempting to pull over her head. She did not hear Darius'
reply, but Timothy's reaction was very understandable.