The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Read online

  Hayden skirted the issue, but Taryn heard the pain in his voice as he spoke. Anje put a reassuring hand on Hayden’s shoulder, giving a slight squeeze.

  “So, you’re related to the empress and the, um, king?” Taryn asked.

  “Overlord. There’s never been a king in the west, only an overlord,” Anje said.

  “It’s Rykoto’s way of repressing us mortals,” Hayden joked, but there was a bite to his words.

  Myrddin led them off the road to a clearing. “We’ll sup here then continue our travels. Don’t dawdle, I’d like to be in Midvale before sunset.”

  “There’s so much to remember,” Taryn mumbled as she slid from the saddle. Names, places, customs—it overwhelmed her.

  “There will be plenty of time for you to absorb it all, my dear,” the duke promised. “Don’t concern yourself with memorizing everything in one day.”

  She stroked Ashanni’s muzzle, choosing her words with care. She didn’t know how much Anje knew, how much anyone knew for that matter, about where she’d been her whole life. “It’s very different where I was raised.”

  Anje took her hand, patting it the way Brandt used to. “I imagine it is, but you’re not alone, Taryn. We’re here to help.”

  They kept saying that.We’re here to help. But she wasn’t sure exactly what they meant. There was an unspoken sense of expectation, as if she was supposed to be doing something but somehow had missed the memo.

  Their meal consisted of dark bread, cheese, and meat, with cockleberries and a banana-like fruit that Faelara called a skirm. Simple fare, but delicious. Taryn ate enough even the duke approved, and she lay back to relax before she had to get in the saddle again. But Hayden had other plans, declaring it time to begin her dance lessons. Taryn groaned and took his offered hand.

  The first dance Hayden taught her was simple enough, but when they moved on to the delante, her feet lost all coordination, finding each other more than the ground. Every so often, her heel would rebel with a sting of pain, but for the most part, whatever Anje had done the previous night had helped. To Anje, she would be eternally grateful. His son, not necessarily.

  With forced patience, Hayden instructed her on the steps of his chosen dance. When she had the basics down, he showed her three others, each of which had Taryn swearing off dancing forever.

  “This is bloody ridiculous,” she complained after yet again tangling her feet and ending in a heap on the grass. “I’m not a freaking princess, and I don’t need to dance!”

  “Ohlin’s blood, Taryn. It’s not that difficult.”

  “Hayden.” Anje warned, his voice low.

  His son took a deep breath and dropped the aggressive tone. “You don’t have to be a princess to enjoy a turn around the ballroom. It’s a civilized way of interacting with one another. Besides,” he reached down to help her up, “many a secret is revealed in the way one dances. You just have to know what to look for.”

  “I’m pretty sure the only secret I’m keeping is that I have no patience for this kind of stuff. Can’t we just playfootballand end this torment?”

  “That’s enough for today,” Myrddin said. “Give the girl time. She’ll come around.” He caught Taryn’s eye and winked. “Let’s load up.”

  Taryn mouthed a thank you to him before retrieving her cloak and heading to the horses.

  Rhoane moved in step beside her, surprising her. “What isfootball?”

  She glanced at him, a smile on her lips. “It’s a game we play where I come from. Lots of running, kicking a ball—it’s fun. If you want, I can show you when we get to Paderau.”

  “I would like that.” They reached the horses, and he stroked Ashanni’s neck, his head bent close to the mare. “She says to relax and sit farther back in the saddle. You will not be so sore if you do.”

  “You talk to horses?”

  “Would you like me to teach you?”

  “Sure, right after my dancing lessons and just before Baehlon destroys me with the sword. I’ll pencil you in.”

  “You say the most curious things.” He patted Ashanni’s neck and helped her into the saddle.

  “Welcome to my world.” It felt good to banter with him again. Since joining the others, he’d kept Baehlon company most of the time, and she missed him.

  They rode at a quicker pace but not too harrowing or difficult for Hayden to instill every facet of court life into her brain. At first, she tuned him out, but eventually she realized his information would help her. If she was going to blend into Aelan society, she needed whatever knowledge Hayden could give her. What he knew could fill volumes.

  As they rode, she listened with renewed interest, asking few questions. The more she heard, the more she felt like an interloper. Paderau was about as far from the life she’d lived as she could get.

  She could only hope she didn’t make a fool of herself and embarrass the others.

  The sun sat low on the horizon when Myrddin led them to a grove of trees not far from the road where they would camp for the night. Hayden took the horses while Baehlon and Rhoane went to gather wood for the fire. Duke Anje and Myrddin busied themselves with setting up sleeping rolls, which left Taryn to help Faelara prepare their meal.

  Faelara hummed softly as she went about her tasks, every so often stopping to tap her finger upon her lips. Then she’d snap her fingers with a nod and return to whatever it was she was doing. Taryn sat on a rock peeling potatoes and watched the peculiar woman. Pots sat on an open flame with ShantiMari enhanced spoons lazily stirring the contents. Faelara dug through a leather satchel, pulling out more items than the satchel could physically hold. Pale amber Mari rolled off her in waves.

  Taryn leaned in to the power, anxious to feel Faelara’s warmth. A sharp jab pierced her skull, shattering her thoughts. Her shoulders bunched against the assault, and she groaned. Another stab was followed by yet another, more insistent. She grabbed her head with a small cry.

  “Taryn, what is it?” Faelara knelt before her and gently removed the knife Taryn held in her hand.

  “My head. Shit!” A fierce blow made her reel with dizziness, bile rose up the back of her throat, and she gagged against it.

  Her pendant flared heat across her chest, followed by a stinging cold. From the edge of her vision, she saw Rhoane burst through the trees, his sword drawn. Baehlon followed a step behind.

  A roar, like the clamor of a powerful hurricane, rushed through her, drowning all other sound. Rhoane knelt beside Faelara and placed his hands alongside Taryn’s head as searing pain ripped through her. She flinched, and Rhoane held her tighter. A wavering darkness just beyond the trees teased her sight. Not human, but a shadowy presence. When she tried to make it out, it vanished.

  The torment stopped. Warmth flooded her. Rhoane’s Shanti. She angled into it like a sunflower seeking light. Gradually the throbbing lessened until her vision cleared and she could make out their voices.

  “Should be warded.”

  “Don’t want to inflict more harm.”

  “A danger to herself and others.”

  She wasn’t sure who said what, but fragments of their conversation stuck in her mind.

  “Taryn?” Rhoane’s gentle tone pulled her attention to him. A tiny dimple she’d never noticed before quickened her pulse. She reached to touch it, and a surge of emotion swept over her. Rhoane’s thoughts and feelings—not hers.

  Alarmed, she jerked her hand away. “I’m fine. Really, it was nothing.” She brushed him off, afraid of what would happen if she touched him again.

  “You should rest, girl.” Myrddin commanded and the others parted so she could lie on one of the bedrolls he’d laid out.

  “No, I need to work.” She picked up the knife Faelara had taken from her and began peeling another potato.

  They hovered over her for several minutes until Duke Anje shooed them away. He sat beside her, stroking her hair while the others went back to their chores. A wall of his ShantiMari rose around them, hovering above Rhoane’s but not t
ouching his power.

  Curious, Taryn thought as she finished the potatoes. Within the strains of ShantiMari existed a form of etiquette. A code of respect, perhaps.

  Rhoane kept close, finding tasks to complete that required his presence. By the time supper was eaten, she’d recovered completely, which meant Baehlon thought her fit enough to begin sword lessons. Despite the fact she was exhausted from riding all day, had danced through her lunch, and had a seizure before dinner, Taryn was excited to take up the sword.

  When she touched the hilt, a ripple of power traveled through her. The exhaustion she’d felt a moment earlier disappeared, leaving her feeling alive, refreshed.

  Orbs bobbed around them, giving off muted light by which to see.

  “You hold your sword so,” Baehlon instructed.

  She copied his grip on the handle, her fingers wrapping around the leather, becoming one with the weapon.

  “Your foot position is just as important as your sword.” Baehlon moved through transverses and passes, side steps, advancing and retreating, all the while adjusting the angle of his blade.

  “It’s like a dance,” Taryn said, breathless from the constant action.

  “But more deadly. Never let your guard down, young one.” He thrust at her, narrowly missing her side. She swung a clumsy parry, knocking his sword away. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He swung low and smacked her bum.

  “What the hell, Baehlon! That freaking hurt.” She rubbed her backside, glaring at him.

  Baehlon twirled his weapon in his hand, a wicked grin spreading across his face, showing straight white teeth.

  “Oh my God. You’re kind of cute when you smile,” she teased. “You should do it more often.”

  Immediately, she regretted the witty comment when Baehlon advanced on her with devious precision. Taryn followed his every move, mimicking him as best she could.

  When the light had faded to dark shadows and they were both drenched in sweat, Baehlon called a halt to their lesson. “I think that’s enough for one night.” Baehlon clapped her on the back. “You did well. I’m serious, Taryn. You have the talent to become a warrior.”

  “What if I don’t want to become a warrior?” She

  envisioned herself on a field of battle, armed with the sword and wearing garments of leather and steel. The image unsettled her.

  “You either are or you aren’t. There is no choice.” He sheathed his blade before joining the others.

  No. She wrapped the sword and placed it under her bag.I have a choice.

  She took a seat by the fire and listened as her traveling companions discussed the lesson she’d had with Baehlon. It dawned on her that all of them saw her as something she wasn’t. They were each, in their own way, moving her toward some unseen goal. A warrior or a courtier, she wasn’t sure. But she wouldn’t be a doll for them to dress up and orchestrate to their whims. Who she would be washerchoice. If they didn’t like it, well, that wastheir choice.

  Chapter 11

  TARYN quietly made her way through the trees to train before the others woke. For as long as she could remember, she’d been in one martial arts class or another. It kept her grounded, Brandt had said. Taught her self-defense while focusing her mind.

  She’d hated it at first, but after a few years, she’d found the forms, or katas, meditative. No matter where they were in the world, Brandt sought out a master to train her. Her mixture of varying styles frustrated many teachers, but the constant learning stimulated Taryn.

  For the better part of an hour, she moved through her kata. Despite the chill air, her shirt clung to her skin from the exertion. The way she flowed from one move to the next was much like the sword work she’d done the night before. Of all the disciplines she’d studied, she’d never trained in kendo, but as she trudged to the stream to wash up before the long ride ahead, she was already planning how to combine her sword work and karate, making it her own.

  The bracing water sent goose bumps over her skin. Standing with her chemise tucked between her thighs, she did her best to rinse herself without offending her modesty as she bent at the waist and poured handfuls of water over her scalp. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. With a flip of her hair, she stood, pulling it into a sloppy knot. Her gaze went to the shore, and she froze.

  Rhoane stood a few feet from the water, sword drawn, a bemused smile on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” She sloshed to the shore and pulled her pants over clammy skin then jerked her arms through her vest. Rhoane didn’t even have the decency to turn around. “You’re staring.”

  “I know.”

  Those two words sent shivers through her and she flushed with embarrassment. And excitement.

  Rhoane adjusted his stance and said in a low voice, tinged with huskiness, “When I saw your empty blankets, I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  “I like to get a fresh start to the day. Riding a horse is one thing. Smelling like one is entirely different.”

  “You slept well, then?”

  “As well as can be expected.” She stretched her back and legs. “I keep hoping I’ll get used to riding, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “In time,Darennsai.” They’d walked a few paces under the cover of trees when Rhoane turned to her. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  His ominous tone set her on edge. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I should have done this sooner.” His hand rose as if to touch her forehead and then stopped in midair. “May I?”

  “What are you going to do?” She struggled not to flinch.

  “I believe last night someone was trying to access your thoughts. I could not discern who, but I can prepare you against any more attacks.”

  “Read my mind?” It hadn’t occurred to her it was possible. Hayden speaking in her mind at Ravenwood was a fluke, somehow tied to the sword and her heightened sense of danger. “It felt like someone was making an ice sculpture with my brain. Does it always hurt?”

  “Only when they wish you harm. Which I do not.” When Rhoane’s fingertips touched her forehead, a familiar warmth spread through her. Recollections and images swirled into a blurred mess and then came in sharp focus. A woman of immeasurable beauty stood beside a huge tree in the center of a forest. Her dark, waist-length hair blew in the slight breeze.

  “She’s gorgeous. Who is she?”

  Rhoane glanced at her, surprised.My mother, Aislinn. Would you like me to teach you how to keep others out of your head? His words whispered through her mind.

  “Yes, please. The idea that someone can get to my thoughts and memories is more than a little disturbing.”

  Communicating with your mind is more efficient. If you do decide to let someone in, all you have to do is invite him or her. Even so, you can control how much access they are allowed. Now, speak to me without words.

  How? She tried to think the word instead of using her voice.

  Exactly, but you do not have to shout.

  Sorry. She pictured Brandt, as she liked to remember him, in his smoking jacket, reading in his favorite chair. She sent the thought to Rhoane.

  Some things never change, I see.

  When the connection ended, emptiness enveloped her. “Now, try to enter my thoughts again,” Rhoane said aloud.

  Confused, Taryn reached out to him with her mind. “There’s something blocking me.”

  “Do you feel what I have done? Recreate that.” He pulled the barrier away so she could sense his actions.

  “I think I’ve got it.” She imagined an impenetrable wall, shutting out her thoughts.

  “You do not need to be so fierce. A gentle block will suffice, but you have the idea.” Sadness clouded his eyes. “You are a fast learner.”

  She wondered whether he felt the emptiness, as well. They stood close enough she could smell his scent of a forest after a rainfall, but there was something different, a subtle tang of apple. She breathed him in, let his Shanti and essence linger over
her. Calm enveloped her, and she sighed into the morning air.

  Rhoane sought her gaze for a moment, holding it. He was about to speak when suddenly he turned and stalked off. The warmth left her, cold snapping against her like a lash. A violent shiver shook her to the core as she stared after him. Unsure what had happened, she grabbed her sword and headed to the campsite. When she arrived, the others were starting to awaken for the day.

  Hayden looked as if he’d gotten no sleep, Myrddin even less. Rhoane returned as they were putting out the fire and spoke to no one as he readied his horse. Having worked with men her entire life, Taryn had thought she understood them, but as she studied Rhoane, she realized they were as foreign to her as Aelinae. She didn’t know what she’d said to upset him, but if he wanted to talk, he knew where her mind was. She giggled at her little joke.

  “You seem merry this morning,” Hayden said with little enthusiasm.

  She gave him a sly grin, kicking her horse to join the others.

  “Am I to guess at your good mood, or will you share it with me?”

  “I’m here. You’re here. Life is good. What more do you need?”

  He arched his back and twisted from side to side. “A decent bed. I’m afraid my experience with road travel is not what it should be, but you seem adept at sleeping on the ground. What is your secret?”

  “My grandfather and I traveled a lot.”

  “What is it you did to travel so much?”

  Rhoane glanced at her, apprehension woven though the tightness of his features.

  “I suppose you could say we were collectors. We traveled to distant lands finding treasures for people.”