Blood of Kings, page 16
It was hard to resist either his logic or his hands that now cupped her face, holding her still as he kissed her. Reluctantly, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers briefly. He gave a small groan. ‘We really need to leave. They’ll be sending riders out to find us.’
The thought sent a chill up her spine as the cold reality of their predicament settled on her shoulders.
‘We’ll be fine,’ Garrick said, his hands dropping to her shoulders as he dipped his head to look into her worried face. ‘We’ve sent word as to where we’re going and why. As far as anyone is aware; we’ve been gone well before Boudin was discovered missing. No one saw us, and Jance will say we’ve been there at least a day earlier. I won’t let anything happen to you, Wynter. I swear it.’
She trusted him, more than she trusted herself. He’d thought of everything and managed to pull together their plan with barely any forewarning. While she knew her parents would know exactly who was responsible for Van’s escape, she’d just have to face that wrath when the time came. Hopefully by then she’d have figured out what she was going to say to them.
Just before nightfall, they arrived at the tiny settlement consisting of one long building and a scattering of smaller cottages and huts.
‘It’s not much, but we’ll only be here for a few days.’
Wynter realised just how isolated they were up here. The land was harsher, there was no farming and so, no villagers. They’d seen no one and nothing other than mountain goats and a few wild deer during their ride. This was almost as far as you could go within Pairyon’s borders. There had been a reason why Garrick had chosen this remote place; it was as far away from Forewick as you could get. The Bovarian border was only half a day’s ride away.
Garrick dismounted his horse, handing the reins to a young boy who came towards them as they stopped. He turned to reach for her, his hand landing on her rear as she swung her leg over the animal. Wynter flashed him a glance, as she lightly dropped to the ground.
He grinned, lowering his head slightly and Wynter ignored the small flutter of excitement his touch sparked. They were no longer alone in their own private world now. Out here, there were eyes that could see everything and nothing they did would go unnoticed for long.
Wynter looked over Garrick’s shoulder as a large man emerged from the building, calling out loudly. Garrick turned, his body automatically in front of her, always protective even when they were supposedly amongst friends.
‘Jance!’ Garrick extended his hand to the man once he came to stand before them and the two shook heartily. Wynter suspected there was a long history and respect between the two men by the genuine greeting they displayed.
‘And who do we have here—’ the last word seemed to be choked off as Jance got a good look at Wynter once Garrick stepped out of the way. ‘Your highness,’ he quickly amended, bowing. ‘My apologies, I was not aware that you would be gracing us with your presence,’ he stammered, sending Garrick a dirty look.
‘Thank you for your hospitality. I hope I won’t be putting you out too much?’
‘Not at all, no. It’s just that our amenities are somewhat...lacking...for the likes of a lady.’
‘Please, don’t let that worry you. I’m tougher than I look.’
Jance rubbed his neck with his hand anxiously and Wynter sent a glare of her own across at Garrick. How could he surprise the poor man like this?
‘I’m sorry, friend. I didn’t have time to include all the details. But we are grateful for your help. Has there been any word?’
‘Not as yet. We sent the messenger to the castle as you instructed, informing them of your arrival.’
‘Good.’ Garrick seemed relieved as he slapped his old friend on the back.
‘So, is that the hospital?’ Wynter asked.
‘Yes, your highness,’ Jance quickly nodded.
‘Can I take a look inside?’
‘There is no obligation for you to do that. It was only our cover,’ Garrick said in a low tone, stepping in her path as she made to move.
‘Well, we’re here, and I’d very much like to see it.’
‘Of course, please, follow me, Your Highness. We are kept fairly busy most of the time around here,’ Jance chatted, she suspected to cover his nervousness. ‘I understand you have an interest in medicine, Your Highness?’
‘I do. I’ve been away studying nursing.’ It wasn’t unusual for royalty in particular, to travel abroad to further their education. Most never went as far abroad as she did though, she thought with a wry twist of her lips. ‘There’ve been some exciting developments in wound care that would be extremely beneficial for use here. I had hoped to teach some of these techniques in Pairyon.’
‘I hope you do, Your Highness,’ Jance murmured politely. ‘Many a fine man has survived the bloodiest of battles only to die from a wound.’
Inside the hospital was minimalist living at its most extreme. There were rows of beds lining the walls on either side of the building and at the far end was a desk where a youngish man sat, writing.
About a quarter of the beds were filled and from the brief glimpse she got as they walked through the room; the injuries ranged from broken limbs to post operation recoveries. Wynter did her best to hide her surprise at how dated the techniques and equipment were as they toured through the ward. She knew that coming from the modern world of the other side was always a shock to the system but she’d forgotten just how primitive the medical practices were here. Admittedly, they were much better than they had been only a few generations before, thanks to her grandfather and his foresight to introduce his doctor friend and bring across certain advancements, but largely medicine, much like technology, was severely limited; only the basics were introduced.
While things like hygiene, plumbing and solar power were embraced and had brought Pairyon into the forefront of modern civilisation within the kingdoms, it was a fine line her family had to uphold in order to keep their world free from the things that were considered the downfall of modern civilisation on the other side.
For years, her family had been watching the other side as they made advancements in leaps and bounds. Technology that was invented for good was stolen and corrupted by governments and used as weapons. Instead of saving lives, they were then used to end life. People were becoming steadily unhealthier, but living longer only to die alone and without dignity. Wynter found this the hardest of all to accept during her time on the other side. What was the point in all these medical advancements if people were growing older and had no one to take care of them?
She saw the families demanding that their elderly relatives be given whatever treatment was needed to keep them alive, while they went about their own lives and rarely took the time to come and visit with them; leaving them to lay in beds or sit in chairs, staring sightlessly out of windows trapped in a body that was being kept alive by chemicals and modern technology.
The practical side of her could understand the stance her family had always taken on introducing medicines to their world. It was, however, a lot harder to rationalise allowing a child or younger person to die when she knew there were ways to help them if they were given medicine or an operation light years ahead of anything they could offer in Ebornia. Where did you draw the line? It was not an easy position to be in.
Jance showed them to a small dwelling, and despite Wynter protesting that she couldn’t possibly take the man’s accommodation, he refused to budge. The little cottage had everything she could possibly need. A fire had been lit in the sitting room while they’d been touring the hospital and after the last few days of hard riding and sleeping on the ground, Wynter was longing for a hot bath and dreaming of falling asleep on the soft feather bed she’d briefly caught sight of in the bedroom.
She came back out to the sitting room and saw Garrick was busy spreading a blanket over a very small two seater lounge. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making my bed.’
‘You can’t sleep there,’ she said, eyeing the length of his legs.
‘I’m not sleeping in the barracks and leaving you here, alone.’
Wynter withheld an irritated sigh. Was the man seriously going to make her say it? Wasn’t it obvious that she didn’t expect him to sleep out here when there was a perfectly good bed big enough for both of them in the other room? ‘I agree.’
He looked up at her and she swallowed nervously. ‘I think you should be close at hand...you know, in case a band of renegades happen to raid the outpost while we’re asleep.’
He hitched his eyebrow and a slight smile tugged at his lips. ‘Good idea. We can’t be too careful.’ He went back to positioning the pillow at one end of the small lounge and Wynter reached out and picked it up.
‘I don’t feel safe with you this far away.’
‘How close exactly would you like me to be, Princess?’ he asked and she felt a bubble of heady excitement at the probing grey intensity of his look.
‘Very close.’
He took a step towards her and a slight tremble passed through her body. ‘Is this close enough?’
Wynter shook her head silently and watched as he closed the gap between them, forcing her head to tilt back in order to look at him.
‘Now?’
‘It’s an improvement...but it’s still not close enough.’
Garrick lowered his head and gently touched his lips to hers, before pulling back slightly. ‘I’m not sure it’s possible to get any closer than this,’ he whispered.
‘Oh it’s possible,’ she said, in a sultry tone and his low chuckle sent goose bumps along her arms as she lifted them to wrap around his neck. She smiled as he swung her into his arms and carried her towards the bedroom, to gently lower her to the soft mattress below.
Wynter tugged impatiently at his shirt and he lifted away slightly to pull it over his head, tossing it onto the floor, before doing the same with her own. His low groan as he settled himself between her thighs set off an avalanche of desire so strong that she shivered. Slowly, he ran his hand along her side, gently skimming the side of her breast, watching her with a slow burning intensity that felt as though he were scorching his brand onto every inch of her skin.
‘Please, Garrick,’ she moaned as the fever inside her grew into an inferno.
Her words seemed to break what little restraint he’d been using until that moment, and within seconds their remaining clothing was gone and she could feel every inch of his granite-like body against her own. The exquisiteness of the sensations invading her senses was almost enough to unravel her then and there, but her body craved more. She arched beneath him, in some primitive response she had no control over, the movement guiding him to where she needed him the most. Their sighs mingled and their lips meshed as a storm raged around them. There was no time, no past or present; it was just a complete and utter frenzy of need, hunger and carnal satisfaction. Garrick’s deep guttural expletives mingled with her own fevered panting and the world exploded around them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
VAN WASN’T SURE HOW long he’d been running for. He took out the rough map he’d copied from memory and looked around. The landmarks weren’t exact—he was relying on memory after all—but he knew he was heading in the right direction. He allowed himself a small rest, and hoped he’d come across some water again soon. The river seemed to snake its way the length of the continent.
He didn’t really have a plan in mind; he’d just wing it and see what happened. The one thing he did know was that he was going to meet this other side of his family face-to-face and look them in the eye. Maybe they were as bad as Wynter said they were...maybe not. Either way, for a kid who had never had a family, the urge to at least meet these people was too strong to ignore. He wasn’t afraid of rejection—hell, he’d dealt with dysfunction and rejection his whole life. He could handle anything these people dished out, but he was not going back to wherever the hell it was he was supposed to be going without at least sussing this out for himself.
He’d managed to skirt the small villages he’d come across; he knew there were at least six in his direct path from the map on the library wall. He still couldn’t shake the surrealness of it all. He felt as though he’d stepped back in time. Children ran and laughed and played without the aid of any electronic devices that he could see. Women carried babies on their backs or across their chests in fabric swags. Farmers worked in fields surrounding the villages and everyone seemed...content. Maybe this whole thing was some weird dream brought on by head trauma. He still wasn’t above ruling that out, but if it was, it was the most elaborate dream he’d ever experienced, and he rarely ever remembered any of his dreams. He could smell, feel and touch everything and felt pain, exhaustion and hunger; he wasn’t sure those things translated from a dream.
After three more long days of walking, he began to notice a shift in the general feel of the place. The countryside was still breathtakingly beautiful; huge mountains dominated the valley below and he guessed this mountain range was the border between Pairyon land and Forewick that he’d seen on the map.
The first village he came to, once he cleared the range was in stark contrast to the others he’d passed in Pairyon. There wasn’t that same air of contentment. The people looked down-trodden. That was the only word that came to mind as he tried to search for the term he was after. Children still played and did what children did, but the women and the men he spotted were thinner, dirtier and looked to be working harder. He filed the information away to think about later. This didn’t verify what Wynter had warned him about...at least not yet. He still needed to meet the man who had fathered the monster, who had fathered him, before he made up his own mind. Just because his father turned out to be a filthy rapist, didn’t necessarily mean the rest of the family were the same.
He’d managed to survive on berries he’d found growing through the woods for the last few days, but he would kill for a hearty meal right about now. He’d been trying not to think about a glass of beer and a steak, but the images tormented him with each passing mile he walked. He’d given up running, trying to conserve his energy as best he could.
Late in the afternoon, he reached the outskirts of a city. Horses and carts, people carrying goods on their backs, pushing wheelbarrows of produce, all became frequent sights on the well-trodden dirt road that fed into the large town in the distance. Feeling safe with so many other people around, Van emerged from the woodland he’d been walking through, following the road as it weaved along and merged with the pedestrian and animal-powered transport.
He was grateful that the clothing he’d been given at the castle helped him blend in; he was all too aware that his own would have stood out like a sore thumb and the grime he’d picked up over the last few days helped him fit in with the locals.
The city was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It was like stepping into a medieval movie set. The smells, sounds and sights invaded his senses, making his head swirl.
Heavy earthy smells of animals and sewage hung pungent in the air around him and mixed with smells of food cooking and crowds of people as they went about their daily business.
Loud banging from the blacksmiths nearby competed with hawkers calling out to sell their wares as he moved with the crush of people streaming through the market place.
Ahead, he saw the daunting fortress and enormous gates that surrounded a large compound where he suspected the King must live. As he approached the gate, he was stopped by two guards and asked what his business was at the castle of Forewick.
‘I’m here to see the King,’ Van told them simply, trying to ignore how ridiculous it sounded coming from his mouth, but unable to ignore the fact no matter how unbelievable it seemed, the weapons these men held were definitely not toys and he had no desire to be impaled upon them anytime in the near future.
‘State your business,’ the other demanded.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d first thought. After a moment of consideration, he straightened his shoulders and looked the more senior of the two guards in the eye. ‘I have news regarding the King’s missing son.’
The two guards swapped a brief look before seeming to size him up. ‘Go through,’ he was finally told, and did so without wasting any time in case they changed their minds.
The cobbled courtyard was large and almost as busy as the market place outside had been. It was a mini version of the town beyond the walls with a blacksmith and various other buildings built into the thick stone walls that protected the castle. Van paused as he walked through the gates and noticed how thick the walls were. He marvelled at the structure, guessing that the only weak point in the whole thing would be the gates, since nothing could penetrate a wall built that thick. Well, he amended, nothing in this world anyway.
As he walked through the courtyard, he noticed that there were parts of the stone wall which had been built into and utilised. Curiously, he stuck his head in through one small doorway; the strong stench of wet animals and dung hitting him full force as he did so. Straw covered the floor and there were rows of pens containing noisy sheep and pigs. Through other openings he saw people going in and out and realised that these were dwellings. The courtyard itself was a hive of people going about their business. Chickens flapped and squawked in protest as they dodged horses pulling carts delivering produce and supplies. A group of young men were gathered further away, shooting arrows into targets and he briefly thought of Wynter, having caught her doing the same thing back at the cottage that day. He pushed her face from his thoughts—he couldn’t waste time thinking about her right now. Van stopped gawking and tried to get his bearings. He saw guards standing near a large archway and headed across.
‘I am here to see King Forewick.’
‘The King doesn’t accept unannounced visitors,’ the large guard snarled.
‘He’ll want to see me,’ Van said calmly. ‘Tell him I have something of his lost son’s that I want to return.’
