Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

She pulled back, an expression of surprise on her face. Suddenly the sword fell from her fingers and she grabbed him. Pulling him with surprising force, she kissed him with a passion that answered his.

 

When he pulled back, she regarded him with a look of surprise mixed with longing. A smile spread on her face, as her eyes sparkled. Quietly she said, “Roland, I—”

 

Alarm sounded throughout the castle, and the shout of “Attack!” could be heard from the walls on the other side of the keep.

 

Roland swore softly and stepped back. “Of all the gods-cursed, ill-timed luck.” He headed into the hall that led to the main courtyard. With a grin he turned and said, “Remember what you were going to say, Lady.” His humor vanished when he saw her following after, sword in hand. “Where are you going?” he asked, all lightness absent from his voice.

 

Defiantly she said, “To the walls. I’m not going to sit in the cellars any longer.”

 

Firmly he said, “No. You’ve never experienced true fighting. As a sport, you do well enough with a sword, but I’ll not risk your freezing the first time you smell blood. You’ll go to the cellars with the other ladies and lock yourself safely in.”

 

Roland had never spoken to her in this manner before, and she was amazed. Always before he had been the teasing rogue, or the gentle friend. Now he was suddenly a different man. She began to protest, but he cut her off. Taking her by the arm, half leading, half dragging her, he walked in the direction of the cellar doors. “Roland!” she cried. “Let me go!”

 

Quietly he said, “You’ll go where you were ordered. And I’ll go where I’m ordered. There will be no argument.”

 

She pulled against his hold, but the grip was unyielding. “Roland! Take your hand from me this instant!” she commanded.

 

He continued to ignore her protests and dragged her along the hall. At the cellar door a startled guard watched the approaching pair. Roland came to a stop and propelled Carline toward the door with a less than gentle shove. Her eyes wide in outrage, Carline turned to the guard. “Arrest him! At once! He”—anger elevated her voice to a most unladylike volume—”laid hands on me!”

 

The guard hesitated, looking from one to another, then tentatively began to step toward the Squire. Roland raised a warning finger and pointed it at the guard, less than an inch from his nose. “You will see Her Highness to her appointed place of safety. You will ignore her objections, and should she try to leave, you will restrain her. Do you understand?” His voice left no doubt he was deadly serious.

 

The guard nodded, but still was reluctant to place hands upon the Princess. Without taking his eyes from the soldier’s face, Roland pushed Carline gently toward the door and said, “If I find she has left the cellar before the signal that all is safe has sounded, I will ensure that the Prince and the Swordmaster are informed you allowed the Princess to step in harm’s way.”

 

That was enough for the guard. He might not understand who had right of rank between Princess and Squire during attacks, but there was no doubt at all in his mind of what the Swordmaster would do to him under such circumstances. He turned to the cellar door before Carline could return and said, “Highness, this way,” forcing her down the steps.

 

Carline backed down the stairs, fuming. Roland closed the door behind them. She turned after another backward step, then haughtily walked down. When they reached the room set aside for the women of the castle and town in time of attack, Carline found the other women waiting, huddled together, terrified.

 

The guard hazarded an apologetic salute and said, “Begging the Princess’s pardon, but the Squire seemed most determined.”

 

Suddenly Carline’s scowl vanished, and in its place a small smile appeared. She said, “Yes, he did, didn’t he?”

 

 

 

 

 

Riders sped into the courtyard, the massive gates swinging shut behind. Arutha watched from the walls and turned to Fannon.

 

Fannon said, “Of all the worst possible luck.”

 

Arutha said, “Luck has nothing to do with it. The Tsurani would certainly not be attacking when the advantage is ours.” Everything looked peaceful, except the burned town standing as a constant reminder of the war. But he also knew that beyond the town, in the forests to the north and northeast, an army was gathering. And by all reports as many as two thousand more Tsurani were on the march toward Crydee.