As Areyn walked into the tent, his gaze swept over her once before glancing at the oil lamps and setting them ablaze. “Get dressed,” he said. “We have work to do.”
“You have work,” Imdyr said. “I will be no part of it.”
Areyn hesitated and met her dark eyes. Her tone suggested she was angry. At what, Areyn did not know, nor cared. “You will serve me.” “I serve whom I please,” she replied. “Or who pleases me. Don’t forget that I am the one who can hand you victory against the god of warriors. No one else.”
Areyn laughed at her boldness. “And what is this about?”
“Lachlei,” Imdyr said.
Areyn considered her thoughtfully. He searched the memories of the dead Silren. He smiled slowly. “Jealousy, Imdyr?”
She flushed, unable to hide the anger. “I am not jealous.”
“You lie poorly,” Areyn said amused. Her face became redder now and he sat beside her. “Need I remind you that you were the one who showed me Lachlei?”
“Kill her—you’ll maintain the balance.”
“The balance isn’t what I want,” Areyn replied. “Neither I nor Rhyn’athel will be satisfied with anything less than complete victory.”
“And why should I accept this fate?” she asked. “You will use me and toss me aside when I’m no longer any use. As long as I can see past the enemy’s defenses, you find me intriguing, but once I can’t…”
“Do you think I would feel anything towards Lachlei?” Areyn asked.
“I don’t know what you feel,” Imdyr replied. “Save perhaps the lust for the power that the dead give you.” Imdyr rose slowly and slid her arms around his neck. “I could give you sons as powerful as those Lachlei would bear.” Her heady musk fragrance filled his nostrils as she lightly ran her teeth along his jaw. “How many lovers have you had, Areyn? How many have satisfied you the way I have?”
Areyn allowed the instincts of the body he had stolen to take over, kissing her passionately in response. He had many lovers before the Truce, some goddesses like Fala; others, mortals like the Eleion. The woman who lay in his bed was not much more than a child, really. Pliable and easily duped. He smiled as she unfastened his armor. “None,” he said.
“You lie,” she replied.
He gazed at her with his ice-cold eyes. “It is what you want to hear,” he said, grasping her by the shoulders and pushing her back on the cot. “Isn’t it?” he asked as he slid on top of her. “This is what you want.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
40
“An army approaches from the south,” Cahal announced as he rode to the front lines. Lachlei reined her horse and considered his words. They had followed the Silren army for two days without any sign of Areyn’s army being willing to fight. It looked as though they could drive the Silren back through North Marches and into their own lands.
The sun had already set and twilight had shrouded the land. Lachlei raised her hand to halt the weary Chi’lan. The pursuit was wearing on her troops and still they had not caught up with Areyn. “Army?” she asked. “Whose army?”
“Laddel,” said Cahal. “They have fifteen thousand warriors total.”
“Where’s Rhyn?” Lachlei said. “He said the Laddel were coming to reinforce us.”
Cahal stared at her. “Reinforcements? How?” He shook his head. “The Laddel have always been our allies, but why would they come to aid us now at a mere Chi’lan’s word?”
“I don’t know,” Lachlei confessed. “There is more to Rhyn than he has told us.” She paused. “Where is he?” She scanned her ranks of officers, but did not see him among them.
“He’s with the archers,” Cahal said. “I’ll get him.”
Lachlei nodded and watched as Cahal rode towards the back of the army. She had only seen Rhyn twice since he left her tent. Those two times he had seemed subdued, no doubt due to her overreaction.
The pursuit had given her time to think. It was natural that she would be drawn to him as much as he was attracted to her. They had worked closely together—closer than even she and Fialan had worked when they were Chi’lan. Yet Lachlei was surprised at the intensity of her reaction; she had never felt so driven by desire. It frightened her.
Cahal rode back with Rhyn riding beside him. Rhyn met her gaze steadily, forcing her to look away. “Cahal tells me your Laddel are here.”
“I know,” he said.
“Commander, I want you to come with me when I meet with them, since you have a better understanding of this alliance than I do,” Lachlei said, finally meeting his gaze. “I’d reprimand you for not telling me about your Laddel contacts, Rhyn, but we may need them. I want you to tell me about those connections.”
“Blood,” Rhyn said without hesitation.
Lachlei stared. “You’re part Laddel?” She gazed at him in wonder, but could not see any Laddel features.
Rhyn shook his head. “Not exactly. I have some close relatives who are, though.”
“Really?” she said. “If they were in North Marches…” Her voice trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
“North Marches is Laddel concern, if not Laddel territory,” Rhyn replied.
“I had sent a messenger to Caer Ladren the night we left Caer Lochvaren. I couldn’t guarantee troops.”
Lachlei smiled wryly. “You’re not as good a liar as you think,” she replied.
“But I will accept that explanation—for the time being.” She turned to Cahal.
“Can we outrun them, if necessary?”
“Outrun them?” Cahal asked, puzzled.
“Despite Rhyn’s assurances, I can’t consider any army that large to be anything but a threat until I meet with their commander,” Lachlei said, glancing at Rhyn. “The Laddel have no love for the Silren, and I trust Rhyn’s judgment, but my instinct tells me to be wary.” “Wise in any encounter,” said Rhyn. “But I think you’ll find me right in this.”
“Let us hope so,” she said. “Our warriors are weary from the chase and need rest. They do not need a battle.”
Mani, the third moon, had risen and brought its baleful glow on the two armies when the messengers returned from the Laddel army. Lachlei had lined her chase-weary Chi’lan ready for battle, if necessary. Over a rise, the Laddel army stood ready as their messengers rode forward. They bore the standards of the wolf and the silver and green colors of Ni’yah’s kindred.
Lachlei rode out to greet them, flanked by Rhyn and Cahal. She decided to not have extra guards as they would do little good should the Laddel attack. She halted her steed, and Rhyn rode up beside her on his gray warhorse. He looked relaxed, much to her chagrin.
As the riders came forward, Lachlei saw that they were not messengers, but nobility. Three warriors rode together with four guards. One warrior caught her attention. His wolf-gray mane, flecked with white, and brass eyes were unmistakable. His armor and surcoat bore the mark of the godling.
“Is that who I think it is?” Lachlei said, gazing at the warrior. “Is that Laddel, himself?” She glanced at Rhyn, who nodded.
“Wasn’t your mother from the Laddel kindred?” Cahal asked.
“Ladara was Laddel’s granddaughter, but I’ve only seen Laddel twice,” Lachlei replied. She paused and considered the other two warriors. One she recognized as Ladsil, Laddel’s son. But the other Laddel, she didn’t recognize. She stared at him for a moment and back at Rhyn. There was a familiarity about the warrior.