Page 16

N iam sat on the window seat of his room, underneath a blanket, his chest against Rufe’s back, content in the moment. Rufe felt so right in Niam’s arms, a calming force in a tumultuous world.

They gazed out the window at the steadily falling snow. Niam used to love snow, sledding, and ice skating, but now feared what frigid weather could do to Rufe as he returned to Renvalle and perhaps left Niam’s life for good. His contentment evaporated.

Gone. Rufe would be gone, leaving an empty space in Niam’s life.

He wrapped the blanket tighter around them to keep out the chill and possibly ward off their inevitable separation.

A lone figure wandered the garden. What was Yarif doing unattended?

Ah, there was his guard under a tree, keeping his distance to allow some semblance of privacy.

Still, Niam would feel safer if his guests stayed inside the keep.

But he couldn’t protect them once they left the safety of these walls. He nuzzled Rufe’s neck. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Rufe settled more securely into Niam’s arms. “I don’t want to leave, but you know we could never have more than we have now. ”

Even though Rufe only said what Niam knew to be fact, the words hurt. “Why not?”

Rufe snorted. “Because I’m not a noble, have no lands or fortune, I’m a bastard, and the mark on my hand brands me a traitor. I shouldn’t even speak with you, let alone share your bed.”

“Those things don’t matter to me.” Niam’s heart cried out for Rufe, an honorable man despite his words.

Rufe snorted. “Not here. But they would once you return to Dellamar, your castle, and your duties.”

Would they? Could Niam hold Rufe’s hand and walk down the castle’s corridors for all to see?

“Could you introduce me to your sons with pride?”

That question required no thought for an answer. “The boys would adore you. You’re everything they want to grow up to be. They often ask me to read them stories of warriors and battles, and want to know what the sea looks like.”

A second figure approached Yarif out in the snowy garden. Niam and Rufe both stiffened until Rufe pointed out, “It’s just Draylon. I believe his and Yarif’s time here has been good for them. They’ve gotten to know each other better without duties competing for their time.”

Draylon took Yarif into his arms, melding their mouths. Yes, very good, indeed. The emperor likely wouldn’t be amused to discover his son had fallen in love with his intended victim.

A flash of motion whizzed by the kissing couple.

Was that an arrow? Rufe and Niam jumped to their feet, Rufe running from the room.

Niam paused long enough to grab his sword and cloak and order the guard at the door, “Go, bring more help. My guests are being attacked in the garden.” Niam met Rufe, similarly armed, at the base of the stairs.

He and Rufe charged out the kitchen door closest to the gardens, six guards following. Draylon and Yarif charged toward them. A dead man lay a few feet away.

Rufe paused. “Draylon! Yarif! Are you hurt?”

Yarif shook his head, sucking in air. “No. We’re fine.”

Rufe nodded and darted toward the trees, three guards on his heels.

Someone knew Yarif and Draylon were here. Someone who didn’t want them to leave. At least, not alive.

Niam motioned the remaining guards forward, then kneeled next to the dead man.

“This is one of Whreyn’s men. He’s not in uniform, but I recognize him.

” He’d been with Whreyn when he’d visited and must’ve remained behind.

“How dare he violate the sanctity of my keep?” Niam got to his feet, kicking at the sword discarded in the snow a few feet away.

“That’s a fine, well-maintained sword, so doubtlessly stolen.

Whreyn wouldn’t have paid for such a thing. ”

Damnation! He should never have let Whreyn leave.

“What happened?” Niam demanded. “Why weren’t you in the keep?” He should have ordered them to remain indoors. What if they’d been killed? Then there really might be a war.

Draylon answered, “Nera assured us that posted sentries kept the grounds safe. We were walking when an archer shot at us. From over that way.” He pointed toward the trees, where Rufe had disappeared.

With so many footprints in the snow, it was hard to figure out where the attackers had gone without further study.

“Get back to the keep,” Niam said. Blood dripped from Draylon’s glove. “Clean up. Let Mother see to your injuries. I’ll be back later.” He charged after Rufe.

“Your Majesty, stop!” a guard yelled. He and three others sprinted after Niam while the one assigned to Yarif herded him and Draylon toward the keep. Casseign had trained his men well.

Niam followed Rufe into the trees. A horse neighed. Niam shifted course. The clang of swords sounded ahead.

“Stay back, Your Majesty,” one guard warned.

As king, yes, Niam should hold back. As Rufe’s lover? He couldn’t abandon his man. They reached a clearing. One man lay unmoving on the ground, blood seeping into the snow beneath his body and a bow lying nearby. The archer.

Rufe fought two men, barely fending off one attack before whirling to stop another. He’d not yet entirely healed from his previous injuries. Judging from the blood on his sleeve, he’d soon have more stitches.

He was so intent on the attackers that he didn’t see the horse behind him. A horse, not a mule. So, they hadn’t come far. The horse reared.

“No!” Niam screamed, launching himself in Rufe’s direction. He watched in horror as the horse came down, knocking Rufe to the ground.

Two of Niam’s guards took Rufe’s place in the fight, while others followed a trail of footprints deeper into the woods.

Niam shooed away the horse and fell to his knees at Rufe’s side, scanning him from head to toe, cataloging possible injuries.

What had Mother taught about broken bones?

Niam’s panic drove the lessons from his mind. Rufe had to be okay. He had to.

Niam kept his voice calm for Rufe’s sake. “Are you all right?”

Rufe gripped his leg with bloodied hands. “Accursed beast got my leg.”

“Is it broken?” Niam would love to assess the injury now, but exposing Rufe’s leg to the cold wouldn’t help anyone. Mother. They needed Mother. Niam couldn’t trust his trembling hands.

Rufe winced, moving his foot up and down, so likely nothing broken, though blood stained his trouser leg. The clash of swords died out nearby.

A guard wiped his blade on the fallen attacker’s clothing, sheathed his sword, and approached. “Your Majesty, are you unhurt?”

“I’m fine, but I believe Rufe needs assistance back to the keep. Help him.”

Pounding footsteps had them all looking toward the woods, where two of Niam’s guards emerged from the trees.

“Report,” Rufe demanded, command in his tone despite the pain he concealed so well.

“We caught one. At least three escaped,” one of the returned guards said. “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t stop them.”

At the moment, the escaped men were the least of Niam’s worries. “Rufe, can you walk? ”

Rufe nodded, then changed the nod into a headshake. “Maybe. With help. But we need to search the bodies.”

Niam nodded toward two of the guards. “You heard him.” In the absence of Captain Casseign, these men could answer to Rufe.

Niam reached for Rufe and told the others, “Help me get him back to the keep.” Rufe, Niam, and a few of Niam’s men trudged up the garden path, two guards assisting Rufe.

Niam should be by his side, helping to support his weight, but to do so would lay claims neither he nor Rufe could afford to make.

A maid waited by the door.

“Fetch my mother,” Niam said. “Tell her we need her healing skills.” He warred between worrying about leaving Rufe injured and hoping he’d have to stay to heal. No! That was wrong. Niam couldn’t be selfish.

He stood by while the guards took Rufe upstairs and settled him on the bed. Mother bustled in with her baskets of supplies. “Help me remove his tunic,” she ordered, closing the door in the face of the startled maid trailing her. The fewer witnesses, the better.

A guard stepped forward. Niam waved him back.

“I’ll do it. Wait outside the door.” Together, he and his mother removed the bloody tunic.

The gash on Rufe’s arm nearly matched the previous one, only closer to his shoulder, and would require stitching.

The sword arm would be of little use to Rufe until both wounds healed.

Niam collapsed into the chair, holding Rufe’s hand while Mother went to work.

With her powers of observation, she likely already knew of his feelings for their Cormiran guest, and if she didn’t, she suspected.

Mother said nothing, working the boot off Rufe’s foot, which didn’t appear broken but had already begun to swell.

She cut the ruined trousers to expose his leg.

Niam winced. Ugly bruises had already begun turning purple, and a gash across his calf would make walking difficult for a time. The poor man had to be in pain. Pain Niam would take away if he could. “Is he going to be all right? Will he be able to walk? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Mother lifted a brow in Niam’s direction. Oh, right. Leave the healer alone. She cleaned the wound and applied a poultice.

Niam grimaced every time Rufe moaned, winced, or otherwise showed any discomfort. He caught himself gripping Rufe’s hand too tightly and eased his grasp.

“I’m surprised Draylon isn’t in here,” Rufe mused, a slight wince momentarily pinching his expression.

Mother continued applying the poultice, slowly rotating Rufe’s foot. She met Niam’s gaze. “Perhaps you should inform him of Rufe’s condition before he barges in, and I have to scold a king.”

What a gentle chastening, sending Niam away so a gifted healer could practice her art. Niam squeezed Rufe’s hand and left for Draylon’s room. Draylon opened the door as soon as Niam knocked, appearing as haggard as Niam felt. Niam entered and closed the door behind him.