Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7) Page 5
“Because I’m one of them.” She swept her hand across her body and performed the morphos into her centauress form, amidst the gasping and hollering of the satyrs.
“Fancy that, we send you off to centaur lands as our pawn, knowing you’d worm your way into the centaurs’ trust, and here you’ve hooked us a saucy little centauress instead. Even better.”
Alder’s eyes widened in horror. “Iora, I would never—”
She raised her hand to stop him. “I know you wouldn’t.” The notion of Alder betraying anyone was preposterous. His heart was noble, and together, they would defeat these bastards.
“Indeed,” Lykon droned on. “Who would have dreamed you’d prove so useful, sapling?” He grabbed Iora’s wrist and wrenched her toward him, crashing her into his sour, foul stench.
Alder roared and charged them, but half a dozen satyrs lunged at him and tackled him to the ground, pummeling their fists and beating him into submission.
“No, stop!” Iora tilted her chin at Lykon. “I will do as you ask, but you must leave him be.” Even as she spoke, Alder struggled harder, his muffled protests escaping as grunts and groans.
Focused on her, Lykon held up a hand, and his men backed off, two of them seizing Alder’s arms behind his back to bind him. “I accept your proposal, milady…”
“Iora.” She stomped her front right hoof. Triumph flashed in Lykon’s smirk, but oh, he hadn’t yet tangled with her. She’d take them down, one by one.
They would never know what tempest had struck them.
“Iora,” Alder moaned, whipping his head. A long gash split across his right cheek and both his eyes were bluish black and puffy, swelling and causing him to squint. She dug her nails into her palms to fight against running to his side. If she didn’t agree to this, bruises would be the least of their concerns.
“So,” she narrowed her stare on Lykon, “how precisely may I aid in your plans to overthrow the centaurs?”
This rough band might be vicious and bloodthirsty, but they stood not a chance against the formidable centaurs. How foolish of them to even—
“Apollo will guide us.” He bared his stained teeth.
She blinked at him, praying she’d heard wrong. Apollo had secured the fealty of the satyrs?
“We’ll fight for him in this war, and he’ll grant us all the riches we can roll in.” The crowd hooted a cheer. “Our pathetic father was too narrow in his vision to strive for better.”
Aha, so that was it. Promises like those would make any underlings compliant and loyal.
Even to their certain doom.
Gold made men fearless, and reckless. While the satyrs would never succeed, they might kill off a few centaurs, or provide ample distraction.
This new turn twisted in Iora’s mind. With satyrs attacking at their doorsteps, from where would the centaurs’ attentions be diverted?
“This hardly seems,” Alder wheezed from where he sat planted on the ground, “like fair sport.”
Lykon released his iron grip on her wrist and whirled to sneer at his brother. “Are you still here, sapling? Shouldn’t you run along and play with your toys?”
“Why?” Alder lifted his head, and the black circles around his eyes only made him appear more feral. “Are you afraid I might actually be a match for you now?” He flashed a bloody grin. “This pathetic lot might follow your leadership, but I’m fairly certain they’d much prefer mine.”
Silence struck the gathering. Iora swallowed thickly. Was Alder truly challenging their leader?
“After all, I have experience with the gods. A qualification in which you’re rather lacking.”
His dry quips provoked the twitching muscles in Lykon’s jaw.
“Release him and hand him a weapon.” Lykon jerked his chin at the two guards while drawing a blade from his belt. “I’m going to enjoy gutting you, sapling.”
“What, here?” Alder staggered to his feet, huffing.
“Where else, you twit.” Lykon appeared to stumble over Alder’s question and he cast sideways glances at his men, as though anxious for them not to perceive any weakness in him.
“Well, if you’re a coward, then by all means, here is fine.” Amidst Lykon’s scoffing, Alder angled his face toward the extensive, ragged cliff behind them. Sweet gods, he was either very brave, or very clever, or extremely fool-headed. “As for me, I prefer an actual challenge.”
***
Alder swallowed any trepidations a wiser male might have had. In truth, he had to distance Lykon from both Iora and his clan. Satyrs weren’t the most honest fighters and he wouldn’t be shocked to find one aiding their leader during the scuffle.
Besides, while his opponent was sure-footed, none matched Alder in agility. They never had. The only way he’d ever evaded them was to climb higher, steeper, faster.
Aye, he’d spent many a lonely night in the mountains.
As his brothers had taken blows to his face, he’d caught a glimpse of a narrow shelf, and he would lead Lykon to that ledge.
With a swift prayer to the gods upon his lips.
Iora watched him, her keen perusal penetrating and assessing. He sent her a reassuring nod. He’d learned better than to underestimate her, and had no doubt she’d handle herself well.
Alder ignored the weapons offered him and instead chose his own blade from his belt. First lesson of combat was, never trust the weapon of one’s enemy.
If you haven’t sharpened it yourself, don’t handle it. Petraeus’s advice sank into his mind and he drew the blade from its sheath.
“Lead the way.” Lykon swept his arm for Alder to proceed first, and the only thing that comforted him against the vision of Lykon stabbing him in the back was the fact his audience wished for a show.
And he’d give them one.
Alder ascended the steep, uneven ground, nimbly hopping over loose pebbles as he scaled the cliff. Behind him, Lykon’s heavy panting suggested he didn’t often perform such exercise. Not that Alder would discount his likely frequent practice of butchery. It took a cold heart indeed to murder one’s father.
He shuddered and continued to climb. Through the moonlight, the rocks cast long shadows upon themselves, tricking one’s mind into seeing chasms where there were none. He tore his focus from the ground and paid greater heed to his footsteps. Iora would be fine, but not if he fell to his death before he could fight for her.
Fight for her. Yes, that was what he was doing. The notion puffed his chest, flushing steel-headed determination through him. Never had he been more in opposition to his blood than in this moment, when he faced off against them in defense of the woman who’d stolen his heart.
The pain of his injuries vanished. This was his chance. His one moment to prove to her, nay, to himself, that he was worthy.
Alder leapt to the edge of the protruding rock and whipped around to face his opponent. His brother, though his flesh and blood, shared not a thing in common with him.
Although Alder’s mother had abandoned him too, he could forgive her, if she believed he would become what they were.
Monsters.
Alder flexed his hands and gripped his dagger, bracing it in front of him.
“Rather fitting that you’ll find your end in this place, don’t you think?” Lykon jeered as he ascended to the far end of the shelf.
He swallowed thickly, sensing a trick. “What do you mean?”
“Your mother.” Lykon bared his weathered teeth. “I chased her up here,” he jerked his chin behind Alder, “to that ledge over there.”
He wishes me to look. Of course, a distraction.
Lykon stalked forward, body limber and shoulders hunched, as though ready to charge. “I tried to have her, but the bloody whore transformed into a tree before I could,” he licked his lips, “taste her.”
A blast of fury sparked through Alder, twitching his muscles. It couldn’t be true, and yet, it would mean his mother hadn’t chosen to abandon him. A bittersweet pang clenched his heart. The urge to
glance behind him and confirm was almost too much to resist.
But he wasn’t a damned fool.
Alder charged forward, aiming for Lykon’s cloven hooves, but the satyr leapt over him and tumbled through the air, landing in a crouch on the opposite side. Alder whirled around, panting. Below, an echoing cheer erupted from the ground.
Slowly, Lykon rose, chuckling. “Clever, sapling, but I was speaking truth.”
He couldn’t stop his attention from slanting to the side, toward the fanning branches of a black alder tree growing on a narrow ridge along the side of the mountain.
My mother. The moment he gazed upon the tree, he sensed her. The connection sparked and tingled in his blood.
Followed by a sharp smack across his jaw and a ringing bouncing between his ears. Alder flailed his arms as he soared backward through the air, grasping at nothingness, until he crashed into hard rock. Ughn. He clutched his spinning head, his muscles fumbling at his attempts to rise. Must defeat Lykon. Iora. My mother. The centaurs. He could fail none of them.
An ominous chortle rumbled behind him and he ducked in time to dodge a second blow. Rolling to the side, he leapt to his unsteady feet and swung to face his opponent, arms braced defensively in front of his face. In the fall, he’d lost his dagger, and now his fists became his sole weapon.
“Is that all? You’re weak and pathetic, just like your mother. Soft nymph blood.” Lykon spat onto the ground. “Be sure to send her my regards when you see her.” He charged and aimed his blade at Alder’s middle, but Alder caught and twisted Lykon’s arm, the dagger balanced between them.
He grunted, but neither could force the blade to inch in either direction.
“A pity your lovely companion’s not a nymph,” Lykon jeered. “Still, I’m going to enjoy devouring that tart.”
Alder growled, his nostrils flaring with his heavy breaths, but he forced his head to remain cool. “You’re not going to leave this mountain. Alive.”
Mustering the entirety of his strength, he released his hold on the blade, gritting his teeth as the tip sank into his side, and instead clinched Lykon’s arm, forcing the bone to bend at an unnatural angle and snap.
Lykon howled and jerked, staggering onto the ground. Alder pulled free the dagger from his abdomen and poised it against Lykon’s neck.
“You think you’ve won?” he rasped. “Pathetic.”
A feminine yelp resounded from below. Alder scanned the thicket. Lykon’s men had drawn their weapons on Iora.
“You kill me, and they kill her.”
He swallowed hard and returned his attention to his brother’s beady glare.
“Or you die here, now,” Lykon smirked, “and she lives. Make the right choice, sapling.”
The right choice. The one his mother had made for him?
His mother… Pulses of energy ebbed across his being, stretching and tunneling like roots toward their source of power.
Toward me.
It was more than the blood he shared with his mother. They were both part of the same system.
Alder opened his hand and dropped the blade. Lykon surged forward, knocking him onto his back. Instead of panicking, he closed his eyes, searching, reaching, and tightening his grip on that source.
Beneath him, the packed earth ebbed, like a creature of the sea circling in toward its prey.
On his knees above Alder, Lykon raised his blade to stab into Alder’s chest.
“You’re wrong.” He puffed in triumph. “You’re the only one who will die here today.” Hundreds of black spiked roots sprang up around him, dust and dirt spraying as the ropes speared through Lykon’s body, piercing every inch of him and dragging him away from Alder.
His vision flickered and dimmed, and his ears registered the faintest cry from Iora’s lips before the black waves consumed him, too.
Iora screamed. The swarm of tentacle-like ropes obscured her view of Alder. Around her, the satyrs were on their knees, consumed by sobs, and wailing with deeply broken-hearted souls. No one would stop her.
She raced to the foot of the cliff and climbed, her hooves slipping and sliding on the loose rocks. Still, she hastened her ascent, desperate to reach Alder. Sweet Persephone, please let him be unharmed. Her chest was tight, her breaths strained, and her hearts pumping furiously as though by force of her will she could protect him.
As she scrambled higher, a masculine groaning swept her ears. “Alder!” she called, and the scraping of hooves against earth replied.
“Iora?” Alder peeked at her from the cliff above. “You’re safe?”
“Yes, are you?” She switched into human form and rose, extending her hand toward him.
“Aye, I believe so.” He caught her hand and pulled her up onto the ledge.
She gasped at Lykon’s mangled body. “What happened to him?” Grimacing, she averted her face from the gruesome sight.
“I, ah, I did.” Alder raked a hand through his mussed locks.
Biting her lip, she frowned at him. “How?”
He lowered his hands and tilted his head toward the tree climbing alongside the mountain. “This tree is my mother. These roots are hers.”
Her mouth fell open. “Nymphs can’t be violent.”
“Nay, they cannot, yet,” he raised his stare, flashing intently at her, “she and I share a connection, and together, we did this.”
Amazing. Well, horrific, too, but Lykon deserved his fate. The entire time she’d been on the ground watching, her hearts had nearly frozen in their beatings. If anything befell Alder, she would never recover.
She could not lose him.
Iora seized one step toward him, and he jolted, but she pressed forward and caressed his swollen and assaulted cheek. “You are stubborn, fool-headed, exasperating, and irksome.”
“Why, thank you?” He cocked one brow.
She padded closer, and cradled his face with both her hands. “And I am falling in love with you, Alder.” Her hearts leapt at speaking those words. She cared not that she uttered them first, for they were true. Beautiful, honest words should never be buried under one’s tongue. She might never have the chance to speak them again.
“Iora, you don’t mean that.” He shook his head, one large hand clasping atop hers.
“You should know better than to tell me what to speak, to think, or to feel.”
His nostrils flared, his chest heaving. “No one has ever spoken those words to me.”
“I know.” Tears misted in her eyes and she blinked them aside. “I swear to you, if you let me in, I will never stop speaking them.”
He exhaled shakily. “I will strive every day to be worthy of you, of your hearts.” He smoothed his thumb across her lashes. “Because you have claimed mine, sweet Iora. You have claimed everything that is in me.” His steady hand rested warm and reassuring against her cheek.
Joy tugged at her mouth, breaking free a smile, and a few tears spilled from her eyes. She threw her hands around his neck and rose onto the tips of her toes to snare his mouth. He cupped his large hands around her cheeks, seizing control of her head, and angled her lips to his, drinking deep as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Shattering her with his kiss.
His lips not departing hers, Alder scooped her into his arms and scaled down the mountain, his nimble feet not slipping once.
His grip on her hearts, just as steady and sure.
Once they approached the bottom, he tore his mouth from hers and gaped at the scene before them. Two dozen satyrs groveled upon the ground, weeping and keening. “I didn’t fathom they cared so much for Lykon.”
Iora laughed. “They don’t. I did this.”
Slowly, he lowered her. “They behave as though they’ve lost the better parts of their souls.”
She arched a playful brow at him and twirled one finger in the air, swirling a pink glow with the illumination of her powers. “I am called the Lost Lady. I restore what has been lost, but I can also cause anyone to recall anything. Even their greatest sorrow.”
“Mates, relatives.” She lifted and dropped a shoulder. “All of that gold Apollo promised them. Loss can be quite debilitating.”
“You crafty little minx.” He switched his focus to her and grinned, but his expression grew somber. “What would you restore for me?”
“For you?” She slid her palm up his chest, to rest above his heart. “I would remind you of your worth in yourself. Yet, I believe, tonight you have already reclaimed that.”
“Aye, Amethysta, that I have.”
She brushed her lips against his, once, light and tempting. “Ride me, Alder.”
He jolted and she cast him a mischievous smirk, switching into her centauress form. Iora extended one slender hand to him.
Alder blinked once before accepting her grasp and leaping atop her back. And she carried him, away from the pain of his past, galloping off into their future together.
***
While Iora sped through the canyon, Alder clasped his hands around her slim waist and held tight, not willing to let her go for anything.
He’d finally dug deep enough into his soul to uncover his buried bravery, and nothing would prevent him from seizing the future and the love he craved.
Not even her five brothers.
He rolled his shoulders, determined to combat that challenge when the time came.
Tonight, she was his.
He’d overcome his past, learned the truth behind his birth, and a good deal of the rejection and hurt had been washed away.
Also, he’d uncovered a rather formidable ability. He wasn’t as powerful as a nymph, but if he understood his gift correctly, he could connect to the dryads’ energies and manipulate them.
All because Iora had viewed beneath his exterior, to his soul, and chosen to love him for what he was.
He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweet fragrance and praying she led them to their destination with haste.
As though in answer, Iora galloped to the end of the canyon and slowed to a canter, passing through the steep cliffs toward the sound of trickling water.
A waterfall? Hidden in an alcove to the left, a thin, gentle channel of water streamed down into a pool deep and wide enough for wading.