Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (41 page)

“But—”

“You didn’t listen,” Red snapped. “This life is not for me, and you know that, in your heart.

There is no joy, no freedom, no profit in a throne. Not for me.”

“So you will go? Where?” Josiah demanded.

“Where I will. Not where a prophecy would place me.” Red shrugged. “I’ve no real plan. A mercenary can find work.”

“In Palins?”

“No. I have to go from here. If I stay, even with a new name, it would cause problems. It must be a clean cut.” Red looked into the distance. “Swift Port, perhaps.” She scowled at Josiah. “Does it matter? I’ll go where the wind takes me.”

“What if we need you? How do we—”

“You won’t.” Red shifted in the saddle. “Gloriana has good advisers to see her throu—”

“What if I need you?” Josiah asked.

Red sucked in a breath, and looked at him. They stared at one another for some time in silence.

But Red was stronger than that. She quirked the corner of her mouth. “You don’t, Lord Josiah, High Baron of Athelbryght. I’ve taken pains to see you set where you should be. At the right hand of the queen, to aid her in restoring her land. She needs your wisdom and strength. And you have no need for a mercenary, Josiah of Athelbryght.”

The goats muttered.

Josiah opened his mouth, but Red was done. “Enough.” She let her frustration show on her face.

“If you want the truth, I am barren.”

Josiah stared at her.

“Foolish man. In all this time that we shared our bodies, did I take precautions?”

Josiah opened his mouth. “I never thought. There are herbs…. I assumed that—”

Red barked a laugh. “True enough, but I’d no need. I’m barren, Josiah. Unable to bear a child.”

“How did—” Josiah cut off his words.

Red glanced at her gloves, then shook her head. “A long tale, and dull in the telling. Suffice to say that it’s true.” She tightened the reins. “Enough of this. You are Lord Josiah, High Baron of Athelbryght. You, too, must be about the business of securing and restoring your lands. Get yourself a wife, man, to bear the heirs you need.”

Red took one last look at him. A man standing strong and straight, his eyes clear and brown, looking a bit puzzled. She knew what she had to do. She tossed her hair back. “Get back to your tent, Noble Lord, before you catch your death.” She spurred Beast forward. Beast wouldn’t be able to run long, just long enough for her to lose the goats and their herder.

Now lost to her forever.

THIRTY-SEVEN

THE stars were out in the night sky before Red made camp in a thick grove of pine with a stream close at hand.

Beast was weary, and so was she, in body and heart. She got them both water, then built a small fire. Just enough to brew some kavage. There was hardtack and dried beef in her pack. A bit of something in her belly, a nice long sleep, and she’d be over it.

Over the longing that was building in her chest.

The copper pot looked as cheerful as it always had, sitting in the coals, tiny bubbles forming in the water. She’d had that pot for years, a quiet companion on her travels. It was just the right size for enough kavage for her and Bethral, and it easily fit in a pack.

Red sat on her pallet and stared at the water, not really caring if it boiled or not. It was just something familiar to do, a welcome task before she crawled into her bedding and tried to sleep.

She wasn’t thirsty, and she didn’t want kavage.

She didn’t know what she wanted, truth be told.

No, that wasn’t the truth, either, and she’d picked a muck of a time to start lying to herself. Red sighed, and left the pot to its own devices, stretching out on her pallet and staring at the stars.

Beast was hobbled nearby, eating tiny leaves off the bushes that sheltered this clearing. She could hear him rustling the branches and chewing.

The night noises around them were normal. A few twitters in the trees and the quiet rustle of tiny creatures scurrying in the leaves on the forest floor.

Deal with your pain. See it for what it is, understand its source, and, having acknowledged it, choose to bear it well. Pain is part of life, as much as joy and happiness.

Red grimaced. There were times when the Way of the Twelve was an enormous pain in the ass.

It would be far easier to ignore her pain, or pretend that it didn’t hurt. Or just lie here and sob until she wasted away into nothing.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pictured him.

The moment was there, in her mind’s eye, his head thrown back in a deep laugh, then the slight tilt of his head, that rare smile gracing his face. His eyes dancing.

She knew now. Knew what those eyes looked like filled with joy, filled with pleasure and life.

The night was still, and she took a deep breath of pine-scented air. Oh, yes. She knew now, and she also knew that it would more than like haunt her every moment for the rest of her life.

Red looked at the stars, took a deep breath, and then spoke aloud, for all the mice to hear. “I love Josiah of Athelbryght.”

There was no thunder, no lightning, no heaving of the earth. The world about her was unchanged, the trees not at all impressed. But deep within, Red felt the truth, and she had to close her eyes as the pain welled up in response.

She loved Josiah of Athelbryght. She loved his bright eyes, his gentle strength, his quiet pain.

She wanted the man in her life, her bed, her world. She wanted to be his world, by his side, protecting him. Loving him.

Beast snorted at something on the ground, then shifted to graze on another branch. Red tensed and held her breath, straining to hear….

She was listening for damn goat bells.

Scowling, she turned on her side to stare at the pot.

The water was still not boiling.

Red flopped on her back and felt for her weapons, making sure they were still in easy reach.

Then she folded her hands over her stomach, and looked into the night sky.

She loved him, and that was that. She’d fulfilled her agreement. There was a Chosen on the throne of Palins. She’d a pouch of gold and a fistful of gems for her trouble, and her freedom.

She’d lost Bethral, true, but Bethral’s path was in a different direction. That was how the world worked, wasn’t it?

She’d accomplished her other, quieter goal as well. The pain in Josiah’s eyes had been banished, replaced with a sparkle. She’d had the pleasure of his body and company, but now his path was in a very different direction, as different as one could get. Adviser to the Throne, Lord High Baron, the man needed to be about his work. Plenty to do there, not to mention his need to get an heir. A fat, fertile farm wife, restoring her lord and his land with her…

A fat, fertile farm wife. One who would fill Josiah’s heart and bed, and make him bread and bear him children. Athelbryght would live again.

Babies, vines, crops…the man would do well.

The tears welled up again, and Red cursed her stupidity. She sat up abruptly, wiping away the tears with the palms of her hands. At least she knew that she’d had the healing of him, whatever woman wormed her way into his heart. She’d always know that the joy in his eyes was there because she’d put it there first.

Small comfort.

But she’d done right by him. He’d healed and grown, and she was no small part of that. Leaving him to flourish was the right thing to do.

Enough of this. She glared at the little copper pot, but the water just sat there. “In the morning, I’m going to find a tavern, and get my itch scratched but good.”

The pot made no comment.

That was what she needed. A bit of bed fun with a warrior or two. Get the smell of Josiah’s skin out of her head. Replace those memories with others, lots of others if need be.

Except it wouldn’t work.

Red cursed again, out loud, a blistering oath. It wouldn’t work. She wanted Josiah and only Josiah, damn him. She could hunt up the strongest warrior she could find, rub marjoram all over his skin, and hump him until the bed broke—and it wouldn’t work.

She couldn’t replace Josiah. Couldn’t look to find him in another. She was well and truly doomed. The pain sat like a lump beneath her heart, and she breathed through it, trying to move past it.

Ah, well. Pain was a familiar enough companion. She’d borne it before, and it hadn’t killed her.

But this…it was like all the color had drained from the world and her life.

A glance at the pot, which still wasn’t boiling. Red snarled at it, at life, at truth.

Muckers all.

She’d enough funds to go where she pleased. She couldn’t stay in Palins. Soccia was no place for a mercenary. Too fat, too peaceful.

Swift Port had that fleet of seagoing ships. She’d seen the ocean once, and had waded out to see if the water was really salty. She’d never been on the water in one of those big vessels. The idea of open water, and wind filling the sails, might appeal.

Beast snorted.

Well, that was a point. She’d have to give up her horse, and who knew what it was like on one of those boats when the waves picked up, eh?

She could go to the Black Hills. Go fight the Odium and other dark monsters that filled those hills. She’d have to change her name, of course. Red Gloves was no longer hers. She looked at her hands, at the new black gloves that she wore. They looked odd. Out of place. It would take time to get used to them.

Black Gloves wasn’t going to work.

Gloves, maybe?

She thought about that for a moment, but decided against it, puffing out a breath in frustration. It wasn’t like she could remember her birth name, if she’d even had one. She’d always been Red to every—

Kitten.

Red felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she heard Josiah’s voice in her head. The ache in her body was sorrow, but it was also need. She took a deep breath, letting the pain sweep through her.

Kitten the mercenary. That would impress them, eh?

Still…she rolled on her side, and blinked at the fire. Cat, maybe? Katerina? That had a nice ring to it. Katerina the mercenary.

She blinked, as exhaustion washed through her. She’d decide in the morning.

She got up, and saw the water bubbling merrily in the pot. With a sigh, she used her glove to draw it off to the side, and dumped the ground beans into the water. The kavage would be cold and strong when she woke, and she’d need it to get on her way and put a few more miles between her and….

Red settled under the blankets, and watched as the tiny fire died.

Cold and strong. Laughter bubbled in her throat as she pulled the blanket about her shoulders.

Cold and strong. As her life would be.

Cold…and strong…and empty.

RED woke when a cold, wet nose nuzzled the back of her neck. With a shriek, she leaped to her feet, sword and dagger at the ready.

The goats scattered, bleating, as they ran to hide behind Josiah. He was mounted on a horse, and looking irritated.

Breathing hard, her hair in her face, she glared at him. “Where are the damn bells?”

“I stuffed them full of moss,” Josiah said calmly.

“Sweet Twelve.” Red breathed hard, trying to calm her racing heart. “You scared a year’s life out of me, and then some.”

“Serves you right.” Josiah dismounted. He had on plain tunic and trous, with none of the trappings of his office. “Do you have any kavage?”

Red looked at the scattered fire and the overturned pot. “No.”

Josiah sighed. “Well, then, if you start the fire, I’ll see to the horses. Which way to the water?”

Red pointed toward a path through the trees, and Josiah tugged at the reins of his horse. “I’ll come back and get Beast.”

She watched as Josiah walked off, her heart starting to calm in her chest. The goats were glaring at her. She put her hands on her hips. “Well?”

They proceeded to bleat at her, as if scolding, as they moved about the camp, taking up positions around her. Red knelt to see to the fire, feeling as if she’d been taken prisoner. By a band of magic goats.

By the time Josiah returned, she had the fire going, and the little copper pot full of water was in the coals. Her heart started to beat faster at the sight of him.

Josiah had washed his face and hands in the stream. He looked clean and tousled, his curls in disarray. The goats settled around them as he arranged his gear in silence. He set his saddlebags on the other side of the fire, and used the saddle blanket as a pad to sit on. Without a word, he dug out some cold meat pies, a handful of raisins, and a loaf of bread.

Red took a portion gratefully. Far better than what she had in her pack. They ate in silence as the water cheerfully started to boil in the pot.

Josiah yawned as she added kavage to the water. “Lord of Light, but I’m tired.” He rolled onto his back, and laced his fingers behind his head. “What with chasing you all through the night.”

“Josiah—” Red said. “What are you doing here? I told you—”

Josiah answered, his eyes closed. “Oh, yes. You told me how it would be, didn’t you?”

“I”—Red glared at him—“I did. You have responsibilities, Josiah of Athelbryght.”

“I do.” He nodded, his eyes still closed. “But how would it look to be an adviser to the Queen, with five goats at your feet all the time?”

Red snorted back a laugh.

Josiah turned his head, and looked at her with a smile, his brown eyes warm. “I never liked Court life, Kitten. Never spent any more time there than necessary. But you had it all planned for me, didn’t you?”

Red scowled. “You can’t follow—”

“Yes, I can.” Josiah sat up, and glared right back. “I can follow you, my mercenary. Or we can go home. To Athelbryght. And build our new lives together there.”

Red shook her head. “Josiah, you are a High Baron. You need—”

“You,” Josiah said. “All I need is you. By whatever name. By whatever path. All I need is you.”

“’Siah.” Red closed her eyes to the hope in his. “I can’t give you children.”

Josiah shrugged. “So? The goats don’t breed. Did it occur to you that I might be sterile as well?”

Red blinked.

Josiah stretched out, looking slightly smug. “There are the other Chosen children to consider.