Rogue's Call Read online

  It was a wonder Dara hadn’t woken from all the fuss she’d made, but her friend had always said she slept like the dead.

  There’s no way it could have something to do with that. Right?

  Unless one of the mages with empathic powers had picked something up.

  Did her dreams mean something? She shook her head. Elissa would rather forget about the nightmares than disclose them.

  The king and queen knew of her magic, of course. They’d helped her hone her powers with the best mages. She could control all the elements, but water drew her most. Controlling it, conjuring it, shaping it had always been her passion. Elissa could draw water from non-existence, and could make it rain—even thunderstorm—without effort.

  As a child, directing her powers had been a constant challenge, since they were linked to her emotions, but she’d learned, mastering the elements. Much quicker than anyone had expected.

  She’d never had the desire to become a King’s Mage, though several of her teachers had tried to steer in her that direction.

  Thank the Blessed Spirit King Nathal had disagreed.

  ‘Elissa is a lady’ was always the reply.

  She had no regrets that she’d spent most of her time inside, learning to run a household, and in the last few turns, acting as a companion to both of her young cousins, Mallyn, and the crown prince, Roblin. Although the lad was recently four and ten, since twelve he’d been training to become a knight.

  Tension rose in the silence, but was Elissa imagining it? Her cousin didn’t look upset in the least—as a matter of fact, Queen Morghyn’s expression was…pleased?

  Elissa’s heart skipped.

  They continued down the wide corridor. Every servant they passed stopped and bowed deeply to their queen. Her cousin gave each a nod and smile of acknowledgment.

  When they arrived at a wide, dark door, Elissa swallowed hard.

  The king’s personal ledger room.

  She’d never been inside—then again, there’d been no need.

  The door swung open, and a tall sandy-haired knight bowed. “Your Highness. Lady Elissa.”

  “Hello, Sir Willum.” Queen Morghyn’s smile was genuine for the man who was probably only a few turns older than Elissa.

  Elissa had always thought him handsome. He was soft spoken for a knight—in her estimation, anyway. Most of the king’s knights had a tendency toward rowdiness.

  She smiled and bowed, and Sir Willum inclined his head.

  “Come in, love. Issa.” The king’s call echoed, and Sir Willum slid out of the way so they could enter.

  Elissa looked around, trying to take in overwhelming surroundings. A map of the continent filled the wall to her right. It detailed the Provinces down to the last tiny holding. She’d had to memorize each major city and all the families of nobility as a child. She’d never relished those lessons.

  Below the map sat a large bookcase, full to the brim. Actually, all the walls of the room were lined with full bookcases.

  Elissa had never seen King Nathal with a book in his large hands, but obviously he liked to read. She couldn’t see titles on the spines, but there were volumes of all sizes. She’d love the opportunity to explore. She, too, loved to read. Loved the smell of the parchment, the weight of a good story in her hands.

  Castle Rowan had a vast library. Elissa loved stories of handsome knights and beautiful lasses that ended with happily-ever-after the best.

  The place smelled like the king—clean masculine spice with a touch of pine. The man had always reminded her of winter, in a way. Crisp. But she’d always preferred sandalwood.

  Odd to think such things now.

  She chided herself and bowed before the large man. King Nathal was seated at his oversized desk, a quill in hand, and well of ink next to the parchment he’d been writing on. He gestured them to take seats in the chairs across from his desk, and excused Sir Willum.

  King Nathal smiled and set the writing utensil down, then rolled up the parchment and grabbed his seal.

  Elissa and Queen Morghyn watched in silence as he used deep blue wax—the main color of Terraquist—to secure the letter until it reached appropriate hands.

  “Ah, there.” The king’s deep voice was saturated in satisfaction, and even though the contents of the letter were none of her business, Elissa was curious.

  Could it concern me somehow?

  “Thank you for coming to see me, lass.” His pale blue eyes were kind, as she always remembered them.

  “Of-of-of course, Your Highness.” Elissa cursed the stutter and her stomach somersaulted.

  Queen Morghyn leaned over and patted her hand, as if she sensed her unease. Her cousin smiled softly and Elissa made herself relax.

  Nothing’s wrong.

  There was no issue with having a private meeting with the king and queen—right? These people had taken her in, raised her, even loved her. She met the large man’s gaze and forced a smile.

  King Nathal’s tawny locks were shaggy as always, framing his face like a lion’s mane. The curve of his lips was pleasant, befitting his handsome face as much as his crystal blue eyes. His beard was trimmed neatly, outlining his strong jaw. He was a good man, a good king.

  “Is something wrong?” Elissa took a breath, telling herself relax in the chair. The carved wood at her shoulders grounded her somehow.

  “Nay, Issa,” Queen Morghyn said.

  “How old were you on your last birthing day, lass?”

  Elissa jumped, and looked at the queen before she could meet the king’s gaze again.

  He knew her age, did he not? “Two and twenty, Your Majesty.”

  King Nathal nodded, and exchanged a glance with his wife.

  The seal of Terraquist, a roaring lion with a royal blue shield and a flag caught her eye. It was on the wall to the left, above Queen Morghyn’s head.

  “It’s time, Issa,” her cousin whispered.

  “Time for what?” Elissa blurted.

  “For you to wed, lass.”

  She bit back the exclamation on the tip of her tongue. Shock aside, Elissa was with the king and queen, and she’d do well to remember that. She’d never show them with any sort of disrespect, not just because of their ranks.

  “Who?” she croaked when she managed to break the silence—a good thirty seconds later. She was grateful they’d given her time for the declaration to sink in.

  For some reason, the hero of her favorite story danced into her head. A handsome knight. In the book, he’d married the woman he loved.

  Elissa didn’t want to marry someone she didn’t love.

  King Nathal reclined in his ornately carved chair. “That, lass, will be up to you.”

  She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “There are several appropriate suitors, but the best candidate is Lord Camden Malloch. He’s young, and a good man, a good leader to his people. As was his father before him. He’s recently become Duke of Dalunas. He’s looking for a strong wife.”

  “Dalunas?”

  The Province of Dalunas was the farthest from Terraquist one could travel and stay on the continent. It was a three sevenday ride. As south as possible from where they were in the far north. Along the southeastern coast.

  “Aye, lass.”

  “So far,” Elissa whispered.

  “Aye, Issa. I know it’s farther than you’ve ever been—”

  “Away from everything, everyone, I know.” Elissa bowed her head when she realized she’d interrupted the queen, but her cousin’s expression was soft when she managed to meet her dark gaze again.

  “It’ll be all right, love.” Queen Morghyn caressed her cheek.

  “Will you consider Lord Camden as your match, my lady?” King Nathal asked.

  Consider? Do I really have a choice?

  “I want you to marry, but aye, the final say of who you call husband will be yours. You’ve my word.” The king offered a curt nod.

  Heat kissed Elissa’s neck before s
earing her cheeks. She’d not meant to speak aloud, but she had. She forced a nod and sucked in a calming breath. “You…you…said there were several suitors?”

  “Aye.”

  “Who…who…are the others?”

  “Lord Avery Lenore of Tarvis, though he’s younger than you. With either Avery or Camden, you shall be a duchess, but there are two other sons of minor lords that please me. Lord Audon Croly, heir to a large holding in the southern part of Tarvis, and last but certainly not least, Lord Lakyn Gallard, nephew to the Duke of Ascova. He resides in South Ascova, heir to the castle there.”

  So far away.

  All her suitors lived so far away from Terraquist.

  Elissa wouldn’t get to see Mallyn every day. Her heart seized. “I…”

  “I realize it is a lot to take in, lass, but it’s time.” His tone brooked no argument—not that she’d argue with her king.

  Tears stung her eyes. She’d always assumed she’d marry—eventually.

  Not like this.

  Not being given a list of four men she’d never met, and being ordered choose.

  Not leaving the only family she’d ever known.

  Elissa wanted to ask why it was suddenly time when no one had brought such things up before. Had these men asked for her hand? Did they know she was being considered to wed one of them?

  “I don’t want to leave Terraquist. I have Princess Mallyn to look after and—” She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

  Her cousin squeezed her hand and whispered reassurances, but Elissa didn’t process the statements or the sentiment.

  King Nathal stood, but her eyes didn’t track him as he came around to the front of his massive dark wood desk. She stared at the golden lion lying atop the back of his carved chair. It had jeweled blue eyes—probably real sapphires.

  Her king planted himself on the edge of his desk in front of her. He reached, and one of his calloused hands swallowed hers. “You can take as much time as you need to decide, lass.”

  “Do I…” Elissa sucked back a sob, “…get to meet them?”

  “Of course.”

  Short-lived relief washed over her. Selecting a husband shouldn’t be like choosing a melon at market. “I don’t want a marriage without love.” Elissa cursed the words as they fell from her mouth.

  The king and queen looked at each other before King Nathal drew her gaze again. He was widely known for loving his wife, so her confession wasn’t unreasonable, was it?

  “Aye, lass. I’d never have you marry without it.”

  “But what if I don’t love any of them?”

  The king smiled kindly. “I’m sure when you meet them, get to know them, that won’t be the case.”

  What if it is the case?

  Overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to do, or say. Elissa blinked to clear her vision, but it didn’t work.

  “Will you give it a chance, my lady?” King Nathal asked.

  She forced a nod. What else could she say? “What’s next?” she whispered.

  “After Mallyn’s feast, pack your bags and be ready to depart in the morning.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “We are going to Greenwald, Issa,” Queen Morghyn answered.

  “Greenwald?”

  “Aye, lass, we’ve a wedding to attend.”

  Elissa gasped.

  King Nathal laughed. “Worry not, it’s not yours.”

  Chapter Two

  “Come now, is this all necessary?” Alasdair flashed a grin at Roduch’s scowl. He ignored his friend and swept his arm over the inner bailey. “Do they really need to put flowers on everything?”

  Lasses bustled, arms full of bright-colored blooms, not one of them paying him or Roduch any notice. They giggled and darted all over, excited voices carrying in the sunny morning. Unusually warm, too, for a fall day in Greenwald. Welcome, of course, for the wedding.

  Rows of chairs were set up neatly before a dais that had been erected for the outside ceremony, and a bright red aisle runner of the finest fabric was already laid out for the bride to go to the groom upon.

  Alasdair had already been chided by Morag—the headwoman in charge of all the female staff—for walking on it with what she’d called ‘filthy boots.’ The accusation was unfounded, but he’d not told her he’d shined his boots for the wedding. It was better—smarter—to stay quiet and out of Morag’s way, on a day of normal duties, let alone a special occasion.

  The big blond knight grunted. “Maybe I should fetch a lass to shove some flowers into your mouth. Roses. With thorns.”

  “Now now, are we touchy on our wedding day?” Alasdair arched an eyebrow.

  “Alas.” Roduch sighed. “Leave off.”

  He sobered. “Something wrong?”

  “Nay.” His friend shook his head, shifting his shaggy golden locks. However, Roduch’s fair brows were drawn tight.

  “Are you sure? You’re supposed to be overjoyed. It’s your wedding day and all, and since I’ve failed to talk you out of it, you might as well be happy.” He quirked a corner of his mouth, trying to lighten the look on Roduch’s face. His brother-in-arms was in love, and all jesting aside, Alasdair was happy for the big man.

  His jibe missed its mark, if Roduch’s expression was any indication.

  Poor sap.

  Alasdair couldn’t imagine being tied down by one lass for the rest of his life. There were too many he adored. Granted, the tavern girls were always welcoming to his coin, but he liked to think he had some skill in the beds he joined them in. He’d never had any complaints, anyway.

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  “If you say so.”

  Roduch sighed and rammed his hand through his locks. “I just want her to be sure she’s ready.”

  “Ah.” Alasdair gripped his friend’s forearm and squeezed. “She is. I’m sure of it. It’s been over a turn since Avril came to us, after all.”

  “How is one turn enough time?”

  His fellow knight’s lass had been through hell. Over four turns of abuse and rape at the hands of her former husband, but Roduch had saved her—in every way possible.

  “She’ll never be what she was, Roduch,” Alasdair whispered.

  Roduch’s brow knitted even tighter.

  “Don’t mistake what I mean, brother. She’s better. She has you. Mistress Avril is a delight to be around. Full of easy smiles and giggles. Easy conversation, too. I haven’t seen her shy in some time.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “So no worries on this fine day. You’re about to get hitched.”

  The big knight smiled—finally. “Thanks, Alas. I don’t give you nearly enough credit for the wisdom you possess.”

  He flashed a grin. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  Roduch chuckled.

  “The king’s party is coming down the road!” The yell had them collectively looking up at the outer wall across the main courtyard. One of the men-at-arms atop the battlement waved and repeated the shout to anyone in hearing distance.

  Leargan, captain to the Duke of Aldern’s personal guard, and their commander, jogged across the bailey. He was already clad in wedding finery, a mix of Greenwald colors—pale green and silver—along with his decorative armor, for he’d stand with Roduch when their brother pledged himself to his ebony-haired lass. “Roduch, Alas, we haven’t much time. The groom has to get properly attired.”

  “I know it.” Roduch nodded as Leargan skidded to a halt, kicking up dirt.

  “I’ll meet the king’s party. Lord Aldern should be down in a moment. Alas, you’re not dressed, either.”

  “My dear captain, you’re starting to sound like our headwoman, nagging us.” Alasdair mock-frowned.

  Leargan scowled. “Don’t make me get Morag to get you into motion. I saw her in the great hall, waving a wooden spoon like a sword. Some poor soul called her from the kitchens for an emergency.”

  Alasdair chuckled. He offered his palms in surrender. “I’ve already been fussed at for stepping on the aisle runner
, so I’ll be a good lad and get gussied up.”

  One corner of Roduch’s mouth shot up. “I appreciate your effort. It’s not every day I wed, my friend.”

  Alasdair glanced into his friend’s pale blue eyes. He blinked, then laughed. If Roduch could tease, things were well indeed. “This is a fine day, after all.”

  Leargan gestured. “Just go. Remember, you’re with Dallon for the salute.”

  “Aye, Captain. See you in a bit.” Alasdair offered a wave and left his brothers to head to his quarters in the soldier wing of the vast Castle Aldern.

  Another wedding.

  He shook his head and tried not to count those of the personal guard left unmarried. The number danced into his head anyway.

  Six and six…as of today.

  Marriage.

  And children.

  Niall had one, Leargan had two, but of course, the captain’s had come as a set. Lastly, Padraig and his wife were expecting. It was probably only a matter of time until Laith and Merrick—the other two newlyweds of the guard—were announcing that they, too, were going to be fathers.

  His brothers were all younger than him, yet dropping like flies. Or, more accurately, dropping at the feet of a pretty lass they’d all decided to keep.

  “Sheesh.”

  Alasdair ran his hand through his long hair. He wasn’t envious. In the least. Would never give up his freedom for a lass. No matter how beautiful. He liked his life just the way it was.

  So why was his chest a bit tight when he looked at any of his brothers and the women they loved?

  He kept one boot marching in front of the other. Alasdair needed to dress and get back to the great hall. He’d always looked best in blue, but the colors of Greenwald weren’t even close to the deep royal blue of the Province he’d grown up in, Terraquist.

  The king had raised him. First a page, then squire, and finally the knighted warrior he was today.

  Alasdair opened the door to his room and managed a grin. One of the servants had set out his decorative armor, as well as the fancy dark blue breeches and under tunic he’d wear.