Fiona pressed a cloth to the blacksmith’s fevered forehead. She had never seen even a warrior fight as bravely and ruthlessly as Ronan Culley had. And he’d fought by the rules of the sword and did not even prick the skin of any of the Sledgers. Instead, he used the strong metal of the King’s Sword to weaken the armor of their invisible cloaks. He succeeded in banging most of them senseless and the rest fled with fear.
His eyes had shone with the white light around him. She’d only seen one other person look that way before, many years ago, when she was just a child. It had frightened her then and it frightened her now.
Reaching forward, she ran a hand along Ronan’s hard cheek. He was so strong when he fought the Sledgers. But she had seen another side of the man. Yes, he’d been guarded but he’d laughed. He was not like the other who had allowed the sword to guide him. Fiona prayed he was not.
She glanced at Ula when the woman brought a small bowl of broth. Ula lifted Ronan’s head and she poured the broth into his mouth. Fiona hated the woman but she could not deny the genuine concern that reflected in those black eyes. Ula Baen cared for this blacksmith.
She watched in silence as the woman cleaned and changed the linens on his wound. It was a deep cut into his shoulder. When he’d received it, he hadn’t even flinched. He’d been too consumed with battling the Sledgers to even take notice. The blow had been meant for Ula. He’d stepped right into it. It wasn’t until he had them safely from Sledgewood that he’d finally collapsed.
“He will live,” Fiona said firmly and Ula nodded without looking at her. “When he wakes he must be told the truth. He must be warned.”
Ula’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “He is a good man who desires a simple life. He does not deserve such complications.”
“He shall find out sooner or later. If we wait…” Fiona looked down at Ronan. “He will do anything to protect those he cares for.”
“Yes.”
“He must be warned.” Fiona insisted.
“Yes,” Ula relented and Fiona breathed out with relief, but when those black eyes finally lifted to meet her gaze, she stiffened.
“She was overtaken by Sleagan’s power. You know this, Fiona. Theora was my friend. I loved her. But you know it had to be done.”
Fiona scowled. “She was good and kind.”
“You know what would have happened if I had not intervened,” Ula insisted.
Fiona turned her head. She didn’t want to think of any of it.
“The sword weakens some. Others it makes them stronger.” Ula’s wrinkled hand touched Ronan’s cheek. “It is our fault he is ill. Let us join to heal him now. We shall settle our differences later.”
Fiona glanced down at the blacksmith. “Our differences are settled,” she said quietly. “He fought for us both. If he cares for you so much he’d risk his life, then I shall not hurt him by attempting to take yours again.” Ula said nothing so Fiona glanced across the camp where Keegan sat with the boy. She winced. She hadn’t meant to hurt Ronan’s young apprentice.
“He is tough. He shall be a bit sore in the morning. Nothing more,” Ula told her as if she could read her guilt.
“He was trying to protect you as well.” Fiona’s eyes dropped to Ula. “See to the boy. I shall stay with the guard,” Fiona said.
Ula hesitated for a moment, then rose and moved away.
Fiona’s gaze returned to Ronan. Sweat dotted his temples and forehead and his lips moved as if speaking. She leaned closer but still couldn’t make out the words. Dipping the cloth into the bowl of water, she laid it across his forehead as Keegan’s heavy body settled down beside hers.
“So what was it that set the Sledgers off exactly. I’ve traveled this way many times and I’ve never had so much as a tremor of trouble from them.” Keegan folded his arms as Fiona looked at him.
“When we landed, we broke a sapling. Well, several of them.” She looked down at her hands.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” Fiona shook her head. “It’s over now.”
“Ula told me he used the sword.” Keegan lowered his voice. “It’s happened before…at the River Blanch. Stilled the power in the waters with it.”
Fiona’s head snapped up. “How?”
Keegan looked down at Ronan, “He stuck the blade into the river.” He shrugged his big shoulders. “And there is something else.”
“What?”
“My horses, Ahearn in particular, are communicating with him. I saw it with my own eyes.” Keegan shook his head. “I’ve been breeding Dulcet horses for ten years. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Fiona watched him shrug again.
“Why haven’t you told him?” Fiona took the cloth from Ronan’s head and dipped it into the cool water.
“I’m a horseman, a rancher. I know horses and money. I suppose this is more your area of expertise than mine,” Keegan answered as she placed the cloth on Ronan’s head again.
“Do you trust Ula Baen?” Fiona asked abruptly and Keegan frowned.
“I trust Ronan Culley and I don’t trust many more than him.”
Fiona raised her brow. “And why do you trust him?”
“Because when he was feeling desperate and hopeless, he said so. Because when he sets his mind to something, no matter how uncomfortable he is with it, he sticks with it. Those are not the actions of a man who is out for himself. Because he has said he would risk his life for any of us. That includes me. And I believe him.” Keegan rose to his feet and without another word, walked away.
“Quite a group you travel with, Ronan Culley,” Fiona whispered, and then frowned as the blacksmith moaned in his sleep. His fingers reached for something that wasn’t there. He moaned again. Fiona frowned. He was reaching for the sword. It had begun.
Thestian walked through the corridors of Merisgale Castle. His steps were quick and echoed his urgency to find the captain of his guards. Diato was not in his own room and Thestian didn’t need to guess at which one of the maids he’d seduced that night. The image of her face found his thoughts the moment he’d murmured the question into the air.
He’d noticed Diato had a weakness for women. He recalled the words Fiona had spoken the day she and Diato fought. Her hurt had been evident and her anger could have drained the captain of his blood. But she’d stopped herself from killing him. That kind of control was admirable.
Thestian halted outside the woman’s door. No sounds came from the other side so he lifted his knuckles and rapped loudly. Then again. He was answered by mumbling and rustling of sheets. It was Diato who opened the door and Thestian frowned.
“The blacksmith has been sucked in by the power of the sword.” Thestian scowled when Diato, in his half wake, did not think to cover his nakedness. Behind him the maid sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes.
“Fiona will not fail us.” Diato ran a hand over his face and shook as if he was trying to wake himself up. He seemed to realize he was standing there naked and turned to retrieve his robe.
“What if she finds she fancies him?” Thestian asked.
Diato turned to look back at him. “Was that in your dreams?”
Thestian could hear the instant jealousy in Diato’s voice. He wondered what the man would do if that jealousy was pushed. Would he ride out to take over the mission or would he kill the blacksmith and be done with it?
“No, but I believe he fancies her,” Thestian replied carefully.
Diato’s worry fled from his eyes as he pulled his robe on. “Many men have fancied her. And even if she did decide she liked him, it would not sway her from her mission. Serpentine warriors always follow through with what they are assigned or they die trying.”