A. Searle - The King's sword

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“You would do well to remember your place, warrior,” he warned rubbing his knuckle, eyes hardening for a moment.

Fiona inclined her head. “Of course, Captain,” she answered acidly. It was like him to command her when it was convenient for him.

Diato’s frown deepened. “You were not so spiteful before, Fiona. As I recall you were eager for my touch.”

Fiona had no control when the color of her skin darkened and divided into black, yellow, and red stripes. His words were more lethal than any bite she could deliver him. They cut to the heart of her.

“That was before I found you with your touch in the belly of another.” She narrowed her large yellow eyes dangerously. Diato laughed but took a step back. At least he was not stupid. Fiona was a Serpentine Warrior, a breed of changelings that were trained to kill. And they were good at it. Fiona was one of the best.

“I treated you poorly, it is true. But it does not change my affection for you. And I believe there is something left in that snake heart of yours, Fiona. Could we not begin again? Start anew?” His voice wove pain around her and her color shifted again, returning to the normal sun darkened tone of her natural body. She tossed her ink black curls, cutting her eyes at Diato’s handsome face. She wished suddenly that she were a mammal changeling where she could grow claws and scratch out his silver eyes.

“There is nothing new for us, Diato. And I have no time for you now.” She saw him wince but he did not press her. Instead he sighed and turned on his heel, leaving her to continue her practice.

She watched his shadow slowly disappear into the others that surrounded the castle of Merisgale. She wanted to call after him but she bit into her lips instead. He would bring her nothing but pain. She knew that.

Whatever had been between Fiona and Diato should be left in the past. It had been his mysterious nature that had drawn her to him but it was that same secretiveness that really drove them apart. Well, Fiona amended silently, that and the fact he’d bedded nearly every maid of the King’s court.

Life was easier with no relationships. She was a warrior. She had obligations that ran deeper than any silly infatuation. And that is really all it had been. He was good looking and had not slighted her because she was a changeling. Not to mention he’d been a fine bed partner. But there had been no more than that. She’d bared her soul but he’d kept himself reserved, allowing her only a part of himself. She had realized after six month of being away from Merisgale Castle that she had never truly known who Diato Gostle truly was.

He had not completely left, she realized. He was out of sight but she could smell him lingering and feel him watching her from the shadows. Bastard. Her slender fingers gripped the hilt once he was truly gone and with a deep grunt, she heaved the weapon and sliced through the air. She did not want to think of him any more. Instead, she forced her thoughts to why she had been called to Merisgale to begin with.

The dark forces had been busy. The guards sent to retrieve the King’s Sword had been killed. Now, a blacksmith carried the weapon toward Merisgale. She would meet him in Fullerk and escort him the rest of the journey.

“Would it not be easier just to obtain the sword and come back alone?” Fiona had asked the wizard who was to be the next King.

“No,” Thestian had replied. “Ronan Culley would not just hand it over to you anyway if he means to follow through with this mission.” Fiona had offered no argument. A wizard knew best. She would do as he bid of her. Diato had told her that the young wizard had dreamed of the blacksmith and his taking on the journey two days prior. A wizard’s dream could well be marked in stone as truth.

“How will I know him?”

Thestian had smiled softly. “He is a big fellow, strong in shoulders and hands. He keeps a short, dark beard that he peeks out over with gentle brown eyes. He is not a mean spirited man, more gentle than most with a heart that reaches out to those he can help. He carries the sword protectively at his side.” Fiona locked away the mental picture he’d drawn for her.

She’d been surprised when she met the wizard named to be king. He’d been young and with a kind face and wise eyes. He’d shown her more respect than most of the Kings of the past, spoken to her as he would one of his own guards. It had filled her with hope that he might bring about a shift in how changelings were viewed.

“You practice alone.” As if summoned by her thoughts, Thestian was suddenly there, at her side, causing her to start. It surprised her that she’d not sensed him before he approached. She let the hand holding the sword fall to her side as she knelt respectively.

Thestian waved her back to her feet, the movement causing his white robe to ripple impressively around him. “I could have Diato give you a challenge.” The young wizard flicked his wrist and Diato instantly stepped forward from the shadows causing Fiona’s jaw to tighten.

“I need no challenge, sir.” Fiona glared at Diato who smiled smugly back at her.

“But it would please me to see exactly who is responsible for bringing me my sword,” Thestian insisted in a soft voice. “I’ve heard you are one of the best of the Serpentines. I’d like to see if that rumor holds truth.”

Fiona’s frown deepened but she inclined her head. She didn’t dare go against the wishes of the wizard who was to be king. Diato moved forward.

“This was your suggestion?” She didn’t bother lowering her voice or hiding her irritation when Diato placed himself across from her. His sword slid loudly through the air as he unsheathed it. But he was a guard, Fiona told herself nearly smiling, and not a warrior. He had to know that he was at her mercy the moment the wizard had motioned for him to practice with her.

“It was not.” Diato shook his head as the wizard backed out of the way. “This does not please you? This chance at swinging that sword of yours at my head? I could feel your hatred for me, Fiona. I am hurt by it.”

“Save your feigned pain for women who have yet to know how you function, Diato. And if I wanted to cut off your head, I would have done it six months ago when I found you rutting about with Saline like the mammal you are.” She knew it injured his pride for her to mention his habit in front of the wizard and she smiled with the shift of power that her words claimed. She channeled all of her pain and resentment into the words the followed.

“Perhaps it is she you should be challenging, Diato. As I have heard, she gave you a bit of run that night anyway.” She cut her eyes to Thestian to find him looking back and forth between her and Diato as they spoke.

“Bite me,” Diato growled, obviously irritated with her words. A dark stain crept over her body. Ink black with an adder’s zigzag pattern of a gold and yellow along her back, arms and legs. Her eyes glittered as they narrowed to yellow slits and her long locks transformed into tiny silver scales that made shiny circles around her eyes and features.

Thestian’s breath sucked in sharply as Fiona’s forked tongue flicked from between her full red lips, tasting the scent of fear in the air. “Bite you?” She drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out just as slowly. “With pleasure.”

Then the beautiful but deadly creature leapt forward.

Three

When Keegan urged his horse to halt, Ronan frowned deeply. Over the past seven days, he’d learned well enough that Keegan Yore would never stop until called to from one of the others. That part of the horseman’s pride had often angered Ronan because he knew that Keegan was doing it just to prove his point of Ronan’s leadership over the other two. He’d proven his words as truth and it forced Ronan to speak for Ula and Arien when they needed to relieve themselves or rest. Now, Keegan’s broad shoulders stiffened before he turned to look back at them. His eyes met Ronan’s and dread knotted in the blacksmith’s stomach. Something was wrong.

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