The Witch's Reward (14 page)

“Retrieve!” Christoff shouted. The dog from the bank ran into the water, grasping at a limb and helping to pull the man ashore. Two attacking beasts were far more than Smithen could handle, and he was soon on his back on the rocky bank, one dog holding his throat and the other his leg by the time Christoff arrived. 

“Hold!” he commanded. He didn’t want this man dead, not yet; though he certainly felt no guilt over the blood seeping from teeth wounds at his shoulder, neck and legs. His dogs were well trained and would keep the man held down for however long Christoff required. And they would have to keep him for some time, because Christoff had a more pressing matter to attend to. 

Christoff swiftly approached the floating mass of purple fabric and dark hair. With both arms, he grabbed Larra’s limp body and jerked her out of the water. Pale white skin peeked between the clumps of dark hair webbed about her face, and Christoff felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness that not only had he failed in his duty to bring the girl to his father, but failed to fulfill a deeper, more important duty. A duty to keep this beautiful creature alive and safe.

He pushed aside his grief and strode to a patch of long grass at the edge of the bank. He knelt onto the grass, Larra’s body cradled in his arms, and placed her face down over his lap so that her torso was covering his bended legs. He placed both hands roughly to her back and began a hard, rhythmic pressure up and down, pushing her against the tops of his thighs. The pressure forced the water to expel from her filled lungs and within moments she began coughing.

At that hoarse, desperate sound, Christoff’s despair gave way to a great wave of relief, leaving him exhausted and lightheaded. He leaned back, his head tipping up to the sky as he uttered a silent prayer of thanks. Then, reaching for the gasping girl, he pulled her up from across his lap and into his strong arms, pressing her tight against his chest. She was cold and wet and trembling, yet he had never held anything so precious in all his life.

Self-disgust rapidly replaced relief now that he knew she had never conspired with Smithen, as he’d assumed. Rather, she had been fearful for her very life, scared day and night, not only of what might come at the end of her journey, but of the real threat of a murderer. He had so quickly doubted her, doubted the truthtelling of a gnome about her innocence, all because he had been getting too close. He must have unconsciously wanted to find a way to keep himself from falling for her, and so had believed the worst of her. Because it was easier to believe the worst than to believe the truth: that he was very capable of falling in love with this beautiful, innocent witch.

He pressed his face to her neck, oblivious of the damp hair that tangled in the bristles of his evening beard. One arm reached up, his hand unknowingly cupping the back of her head, and supported it against his own. So great was his relief and his guilt that he not only forgot about the sick men back at camp, but about the bloodied man lying captive not ten feet away. All that mattered was that Larra was alive, and she was everything he ever wanted.

Chapter 15

Larra’s lungs felt like they had been caught in a vice. They burned from the inside out, spreading a raw, searing pain throughout her entire chest. The breaths of fresh air that were heaving into her body were like food to a starved person. The blackness that had enveloped her mind was slowly beginning to fade and she became aware of an extreme cold racking her body, completely in contrast to the fire in her lungs. Where her chest felt on fire, her shoulder, legs, arms, hands and feet all felt as though they had been stuck in a glacier for the duration of a long, harsh winter. She struggled to open her eyes, but was shaking too badly to accomplish the simple act. What had happened?

Gradually, a comforting warmth began to envelop her, like a warm blanket. The heat slowly dissolved the ice and a feeling of languidness overcame her, the fire from her chest easing, the cold dissipating from her limbs. She felt protected, loved, cared for. A hand had come up to cradle her head and she felt herself embraced with tender care. 

Slowly, her eyes opened. She saw the edge of an old forest, the blacks and browns and greens of overgrown vegetation making a deep, dark world in the fading sun. She was just outside the trees, the vegetation giving way to grasses and then a rocky bank that dipped gracefully into a slowly flowing river that…

River!

A sudden image of being dragged through that same forest and pushed beneath the surface of the water burst to mind, and suddenly she was in the past, fighting Smithen for her life.

She thrashed against her restraints, and when they didn’t loosen, she reared back, her head ramming into her assailant’s chin.

“Larra, stop that!”

The voice didn’t register; neither did the words. In her sluggish mind, she was still fighting her murderer.

“Larra—Larra stop!”

The arms banded even more tightly around her. She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe.

Slowly, the words began to penetrate.

“Easy, Larra, easy! I’m not going to hurt you,” the words were softly spoken, at odds with the rock hard embrace. She finally recognized the captain’s voice, and as he continued to speak soft words in a low, soothing tone, she found herself able to calm down enough to notice that it was
his
arms wrapped around her, not Smithen’s. She was lying against his chest, his hand stroking the back of her head, his arms a cocoon of safety. He continued to speak meaningless phrases of comfort as he rocked her back and forth like a parent consoling a fearful child. 

She broke down.

Even as she heard her own sobs echoing around her, she couldn’t seem to stop. All the fear, the desperation, and the relief at still being alive poured out of her in a waterfall of tears that lasted several minutes. The captain continued to hold her, gently now. His words had no meaning, but the sound of them soothed her. Finally, when the sobs quieted and she was empty of all tears, she became very still.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, but didn’t turn around. She needed a moment to collect herself before facing the man that most definitely had saved her. As she got her bearings, she noticed her would-be murderer was pinned to the rocky bank by two of the wolfhounds. One great hound had its jaws clasped around his neck, rivets of bright red blood visible through the cracks in its teeth. The other stood with its teeth in a similar fashion around the man’s right ankle. Barely a muscle moved between the three creatures.

Certain that she had herself under control, she slowly turned to face the captain. He relaxed his hold so that she could twist around, but did not let go.

“I’m all right.” She looked up at him, noting the mixture of worry and relief in his face. His cheeks were taught with emotional strain, his eyes so filled with concern that they had darkened to reflect the deepest, densest parts of the forest. And there was a large spot on his jaw reddening from where she had butted him with her head. She raised a hand, touching the spot gingerly with her fingertips. “Sorry about that. I thought…”

“You thought you were still in the river, that I was Smithen.”

She nodded.

“I understand. I’ve been knocked unconscious before and experienced the disorientation that comes after. It’s okay.”

One of his hands slipped from around her back to caress her cheek, and the worry that had been creasing his brow slowly faded.

“I’ve got it together, now,” she promised.

A small smile graced the hard planes of his face. “Good.”

He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes closing and a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. She was surprised at the move, but not sure how to react. When he spoke again, his words were also unexpected.

“I was so worried. For a moment I thought you were dead, and I’d never felt such guilt in all my life.” 

“Guilt?” she asked in bewilderment.

His eyes opened, pinning hers like an arrow to its mark.

“Yes, guilt. I believed you were in league with that murderous monster. I thought you two were working together, that he was helping you to escape. I thought that your fear of him had been staged—a farce to get me to believe you were innocent of any deception so that he could release you without arousing my suspicions. You told me that you hadn’t met him before, that you didn’t have anything to do with him, but I didn’t believe you and you almost died. I doubted because of everything I had been told about witches, that they are deceivers, evildoers and crafty. But you aren’t any of those things, and I’m sorry for believing you were.” 

He looked truly repentant—at first. But then the sweet, earnest expression on his face changed to one of accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me and inform me that he was harassing you? I would have taken care of him. This—” he gestured sharply at the river and the man lying helplessly on its banks, “—would never have happened in the first place.”

His anger sparked her own, and she placed her hands on his chest and pushed, moving him back enough so that she could look him fully in the eyes. “You think this is my fault?”

“If you had come to me with your complaints about Smithen, I would have taken care of him.”

She looked disbelievingly at him. “And how was I to know that? You’re my captor, not my friend.”

“I don’t have to be your friend to take care of the problem. He was under my authority, and I would have seen to him. I wouldn’t have let him bother you. By not coming to me, you let him continue to be a danger to you.”

“I didn’t let him,” she mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“I said I didn’t let him!” she fairly shouted. “He threatened to go back and hurt my grandmother if I told anyone. I couldn’t permit that to happen.”

“It never would have. I wouldn’t have let him. Smithen is a bully, and that’s what bullies do. They find a weakness and attack it at any angle that they can until they get what they want. You should never be afraid of going to someone for help. You most certainly shouldn’t have been afraid of coming to me. I certainly would have jumped to your aid quick enough.” He mumbled the last bit under his breath.

There was a pause before she asked, “You would have?”

Frustrated with what he had just admitted, he thrust a hand back through his damp hair. “I thought it would have been obvious.”

“What?”

He looked down, pinning her with his hazel eyes. “How much I’ve grown to like you.”

Her breath caught, and she couldn’t respond. Was it true? She wondered if the confusion she felt showed on her face. She guessed it must have, because he spoke very carefully.

“Larra, don’t you know what I feel for you? What I’ve felt for you since the moment I first saw you, standing scared and helpless in your grandmother’s kitchen?” His hand came up to touch her cheek.

She shook her head, her cheek grazing against the calloused pad of his thumb that rested there. “I don’t understand,” she replied.

“Since the moment I was given the charge to bring you to the palace, I have been mentally preparing myself for any sort of deception. And when I first saw you standing in your grandmother’s kitchen, I felt instantly attracted to you. So much so, that I thought you had cast a spell on me with your magic. Those feelings have only grown, though I have tried desperately to fight them, thinking that they weren’t real and that you couldn’t be as wonderful as you seemed. But I have been losing the battle; because not only have those feelings of attraction grown, they have turned into respect for your strength of spirit, admiration for the bravery with which you face your future, and awe at your continued ability to overcome my doubts and prove how wonderful you truly are.

“I thought that if I could just ignore you, my feelings for you would go away. But they haven’t. They’ve only gotten stronger.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. This was the dream she had never allowed herself to have. The dream of a wonderful man from one of Kiera’s fairytales that would love her, protect her and stay with her for the rest of her life. Never had she permitted herself to hope such a thing was possible. Yet here was the evidence. Here was a man who, despite his greatest efforts, had come to feel for her as she felt for him.

His other arm slid from around her, the hand raising to her other cheek so that both of his hands framed her face. Gently, he held her still as he lowered his head to hers.

The world stopped turning the moment his lips touched hers. The forest, the river, the cold, wet clothes—everything ceased to exist as all energy converged to meet in this one precious connection. His lips were gentle yet firm against her own, the heat of them spreading from him to her in long, brilliant waves. She felt an overflowing of joy unparalleled to anything she had ever experienced.

The kiss turned passionate for a moment, but then slowly gentled again, lips soothing, calming, lingering, and then finally breaking the connection. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes for a moment, before lowering once more to give her one last light, lingering kiss, as if to remind her lips that they now belonged to his. He then pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and pulled slowly away, getting to his feet.

He held out his hand and she took it, rising to her own trembling legs.

“What happens now, Captain?” She couldn’t help but ask. 

He smiled, “Christoff.” 

“Christoff,” she repeated tenderly. “What happens now?”

His smile disappeared. “First, we’ll take that murdering pig of a man back to camp and lock him up. We should hurry; I need to check on my men. They were not good when I left.”

“He did it on purpose,” Larra said.

“What do you mean?”

She enlightened him, informing him of Smithen’s confession about the berries. “You don’t have to worry, though,” she told him, “From what I’ve learned about that particular fruit, the effects only last a little while and leave as suddenly as they come.”

He looked somewhat mollified.

“What will you do with him?”

“Since we have limited horses and only one prison wagon, I suppose you two will just have to switch places.”

Hope flared. “You mean I am no longer a prisoner?”

“I couldn’t bear to see you caged up anymore. It was painful enough before, but after everything you’ve been through, I cannot doubt your innocence and wouldn’t be able to endure your suffering any longer. But Larra, you must understand that despite my feelings for you, despite what I know about you, I have a duty to my king. I am afraid you are very much still a prisoner.”

When he saw her hope begin to deflate, he continued, “But I will speak to King Steffan on your behalf, and inform him of the gnome’s revelation.” He touched her cheek again, giving her comfort. But even as he comforted her, she could tell that he was holding something back, and she perceived that he hadn’t told her the complete truth—that there might not be anything anyone could do to stop the execution. Because when all was said and done, it was the law of the land that would make the ultimate decision.

“I have to obey the king at any cost to my own personal feelings. It is who I am and what I am. Do you understand?”

She did. He would fulfill his promise to his king because he was an honorable man. But he had also made a promise to help her, and she knew he would fulfill that promise as well. “What about your men? What will they think?”

“Right now, they’re too sick to do anything about it. Once they’re better, I will explain the situation to them. Smithen will take your place in the wagon as our prisoner, and you will ride and camp with the rest of us. Don’t worry; my men will trust my decision. And you have surprised them during this journey, as you have surprised me, with your strength. I think they respect you, as I do.”

She was relieved and happy. Yes, she was still a prisoner, and yes she was going to the palace, but her role had changed. And she knew that with Christoff’s testimony she had a real possibility of being freed. All those dreams she’d never allowed herself to have just might come true.

The return to camp went quickly considering the travelers included a drowning victim and an injured man. The captain asked Larra to go first along the trail, followed by one of the hounds, a defeated Smithen, the captain himself, and finally the second hound. Larra sensed Christoff’s worry for his men and his need to return as soon as possible, and she hurried as fast as she could.