Jewel of Apthgar Read online

  But because the Jewel was the one thing both peoples would rally behind, it was the one thing that would bind the two kingdoms together once again. And, too drunk on power and prestige, that was the one thing neither ruler wanted.

  She did. And she knew Callum did. Perhaps peace would come with their generation.

  “Are you listening to me?” The king strode to her and shook her shoulder. “I don’t want that bastard getting his hands on it. Idiot can’t even measure things right,” he muttered. His brows knotted as he went on about what he considered to be the useless intricacies of the Apthian system of measurement. An argument she’d heard since she was little as to why merging the two kingdoms would be impossible. His hand tightened on her shoulder, his grip bordering on pain. “Gods above. Not only did I not get a son, I ended up with a girl who’s always off in la-la land.”

  Rahziya clenched her jaw against a tart rejoinder. This was her father, her only parent, and he was the king. He deserved her respect.

  She despaired of ever receiving the same in return.

  “Where is the Jewel?” she asked, easing away from his hold.

  His gaze slid away from hers. He turned his back and walked toward his throne.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. That her father, usually so blunt and no-holds-barred in his approach to people—especially her—would instead be reluctant to impart information did not bode well for her.

  Not looking at her, he gruffly cleared his throat. “It’s in Dearthrealm.”

  Dearthrealm. Where the dragons lived.

  “Protected by a fearsome wyvern that carries poison in the barb of its tail.”

  She stared at him. “Well, you’re just full of good news, aren’t you?” she muttered under her breath. Of all the species of dragons, wyverns were the fiercest, protective of their entire territory, not just their hoards. One strike from that barbed tail brought about a horrible death, the victim transformed to liquid from the inside out.

  Her father turned to face her, his brows drawn down. “What was that?”

  Rahziya took a deep breath. “You want me to face this creature alone?”

  “Don’t be daft.” He sat down on his throne. His face suggested he’d about used up his quota of patience with her. “You’ll be accompanied by a full complement of royal guardsmen.” He leaned to one side, resting his elbow on the padded arm of the oversized chair. “You surely aren’t afraid of this task I’m setting before you, are you, Ziya? After all, you’ve been telling me since you were a youngling that you’re as good as any son I might have had.”

  Of everything she’d said to him over the years—most of which he’d ignored—trust him to remember that.

  “Or were you spinning a tale like your precious Opheron?” He pointed toward the book still clutched in her right hand.

  “No!” She would do this, would show her indifferent parent that she was as worthy as a son, that she had the right to take up space in the palace. Nay, more than that. This trek would show him she had earned the right to be the next ruler of her people.

  She would retrieve the Jewel of Apthgar or die trying.

  * * * * *

  Callum Hafeydd stood on the parapet outside his bedchamber and gazed out over Apth. It was a beautiful land with rich, fragrant soil that kept his people well-fed. The fortified capitol city bustled with activity. Just over the northern wall he could see the spires of the Garan palace.

  He clenched his fists against the helplessness that provoked him. He wanted to ride into Gar and declare his love for their princess. Claim her as his wife. A couple of times over the course of the last six phases he’d had his horse saddled and had been halfway there before common sense had tamped down his impatient passion.

  As much as he might want to deny it, the stark reality was that his father held too much pride to allow his only son to marry the daughter of their enemy. And Rahziya’s father was just as bad.

  So they would need to bide their time until an opportunity presented itself. God above, he hoped it came soon. He could still remember the feel of her soft palm against his cock, the way her fingers milked him as she stroked the length of his erection. His flesh quickened at the memory.

  His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  He turned and went back into his room, calling out, “Enter,” as he went.

  The door swung open to reveal a uniformed manservant. “His Majesty requests your presence, Your Highness.”

  Once more unto the breach. Callum gave a nod to the servant. He grabbed his coat and donned it. Even at this early hour, it wouldn’t do to stand before the king in his shirtsleeves, especially since he’d been summoned. Even though he was the son of the monarch, his father still demanded proper decorum be followed.

  It was damned irritating. When he was king, Callum wouldn’t be setting such ridiculous standards.

  Leaving his rooms, he headed toward his parents’ wing. He strode into his father’s private chambers just in time to hear him shout, “Yes! It’s ours!” The king whirled in a circle, a missive clenched in one fist raised above his head in a gesture of victory. His ermine-trimmed scarlet robe fanned out around his long legs before settling down. When he saw Callum, he strode forward. “I have a job for you, boy.”

  “I’m twenty-nine years old, Father. Hardly a boy anymore.” Not for the first time, Callum wished he had a younger brother. Perhaps then his father would see him for the man he was.

  It didn’t seem to faze the old man that Callum’s voice was lower pitched than his, or that the son, broad of chest and back, was taller than his father by a head and outweighed him by nearly twenty beknels.

  His father dropped the missive on a nearby table and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s all relative, m’boy. When you reach my age, twenty-nine will seem like but a lad in knee britches to you.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together. Lowering his voice, he said, “Apthgar’s Jewel is within our grasp, Callum, and we need to get it before that bastard does.”

  By that bastard Callum knew he meant the king of Gar.

  He thought of Rahziya then, of the passion that had made her eyes glitter as she’d looked at him during the unification ceremony earlier. Of the way her body had clenched around his fingers, making him wish it had been his cock fucking into her. He hadn’t been able to help himself from seeking her out afterward, though she’d done the right thing in leaving so abruptly. Were others to see them together, their hopes of a future would be dashed.

  Thank God it had been her captain that interrupted them. Fermin would keep his own counsel, as he had done in the past. Rahziya had told him that a few of their interludes had been arranged by the captain. So he must want a union between them to happen. Otherwise, why enable their conduct?

  “I want you to retrieve it,” his father went on. “It will solidify your position as heir to the throne in the eyes of our people. You’ve spent too much time playing the rake. It’s time for you to do something noteworthy.”

  Callum bit back a sigh. Again he was going to hear how much he needed to marry, to present a picture of the mature and content future king with wife and children by his side. He was about to give his standard response of “Maybe next year”, for if he couldn’t have Rahziya he would have no one, but was cut off by his father.

  “I’ve already called forth a squadron of our most reliable soldiers.” The king lowered his voice. “Our sources tell us the Jewel is hidden in a cavern and guarded by a wyvern. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble dispatching the beast.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Go make preparations; you’ll leave right after the morning meal.” He turned toward the bed, clearly dismissing his son. “Darling, get up, you slug-a-bug. It’s time for breakfast.”

  “Mikkel, it’s too early,” came his mother’s sleepy voice from behind the heavy curtains surrounding the bed. “It’s not even light outside yet.”

  “How the hell can you tell?” the king demanded. “You’ve got the damned drapes drawn ti
ghter than a virgin’s butt cheeks.”

  Shaking his head, Callum left the room and the guards closed the doors behind him. As he walked down the hall heading back to his own wing, he pondered on what this meant.

  After four centuries, the Jewel of Apthgar had been found. He wasn’t sure what the original purpose of the Jewel was, but he did know one thing. It was the best chance he had to unite the Kingdom of Apth and the Kingdom of Gar into one principality again.

  And neither of those bastards wanted to see that happen. But if Callum had his way, it would happen. Because with the Jewel in his possession, he would finally have a legitimate way to lay claim to the sweet Rahziya. If the Jewel was used to bless their union, neither of their fathers would dare refuse Callum’s demand of marriage.

  Chapter Three

  Captain Fermin raised his hand, calling the column to a halt. Rahziya reined in her horse and rested her hands on the pommel. She shifted in the saddle, trying to ease her sore muscles. She hadn’t ridden much in the past few months—always more interesting things to do—and she was paying for it now. They’d traveled all day with only a few breaks, just long enough to eat and relieve themselves.

  That was an experience she hadn’t thought about before they started out this morning—a lone woman trying to pee in the midst of guards who refused to let her wander off alone, even for a few minutes, and so they merely turned their broad backs. She’d had no choice but to unlace her britches, hunker down and take care of business.

  She’d never moved so fast in her life.

  “We should make camp here tonight, Princess,” Fermin said now. His dark gaze settled on her for a moment before he looked back toward the tree line. “I’d rather not take our night’s rest inside the Dearthrealm, if you don’t mind.”

  She glanced around. It didn’t seem prudent to her to make camp out in the open like this. Just inside the tree line would seem wiser. However, she didn’t have the experience Fermin did, nor his expertise when it came to the Dearthrealm. She would have to trust he knew best.

  Rahziya caught the eye of their magi, Bec. The older man was leaning forward in his saddle, rubbing his bottom with one hand. He grinned ruefully. “It’s been a while since I’ve been part of an expedition, Princess.”

  She smiled. All Garan expeditions included a member of the magi in case a soldier was hurt or, the great god forbid, fatally wounded. Magi were healers and priests, and Bec was one of the best, so of course he would be sent along with the royal princess. “Will you be all right?” she asked, trying to ignore her own sore bum.

  He nodded. “Yes, thank you, Princess. As soon as I can get off this damned beastie… I mean,” he corrected with another grin, “this beautiful warhorse.” He patted the “beast” on the neck. The horse nickered and tossed its head. Bec’s grin widened. “See how forgiving he is?”

  Rahziya gave him a smile, then turned to Fermin. “How much farther is it to the wyvern’s cave?” She peered into the forest that marked the boundary between the Kingdom of Gar and the realm of the dragons. The same forest marked the boundary between Apth and Dearthrealm. Even though she knew the trees were just conifers typical to this part of the country, they seemed somehow…malevolent. She half-expected them to uproot and start marching toward her group with branches outstretched, hideous faces forming within the rough-barked trunks.

  “About two hours ride,” the captain responded. “We have only an hour of daylight left—we can’t fight the thing in the dark. It’d be too dangerous.”

  She heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and looked over her shoulder to see a column of soldiers heading their way. The gold and crimson banner the second man in the line held proclaimed them to be from Apth.

  The captain twisted in his saddle to look as well. His eyes narrowed and his mouth settled into a grim line. “We have company, it seems.” With a gloved hand he gave a signal to his men, and as one they turned their horses to face the approaching group.

  As Rahziya maneuvered her mount around, she heard the distinct slide of metal against metal as her guards drew their swords. Fermin edged his horse closer to Rahziya. “Stay right here with me, Your Highness.”

  The setting sun glinted off the raven-dark hair of the lead rider of the advancing soldiers. He wore a black duster and his long legs were encased in form-fitting breeches tucked into tall boots. His shirt was open at the throat, the collar fluttering in the breeze.

  Her heart pummeled against her ribs. Callum. Her body immediately quickened, readying itself for him as if it didn’t care about the obstacles in the way. She squeezed her internal muscles, fighting back sudden tears at the unfairness of it all.

  The closer the men got, the more tense her guards became, until finally Captain Fermin called out, “That’s far enough. State your business.”

  Callum held up one hand to stop his men then kneed his horse and came forward. He held Fermin’s gaze a few moments longer. As the prince brought his horse to a halt a few feet away, he looked at her and said softly, “Princess Rahziya.”

  As always, the sound of his voice, slightly husky and deep, made her breath hitch. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the flutter deep in her womb. “Prince Callum.”

  Callum’s face softened. He turned his gaze to Bec and inclined his head respectfully. “Magi.”

  Bec tilted his head. “Bec Myrddin, at your service, Prince Callum.”

  “You know me?”

  A smile crossed the older man’s face. “Indeed, your highness. You attended the unification ceremony of the Duke and Duchess of Klammor yesterday.” At Callum’s nod, he smiled. “Plus my brother is royal magi to your father.”

  Callum’s eyebrows rose and recognition flashed in his eyes. “Myrddin. Of course! You’re Neval’s younger brother. He speaks of you often.”

  Rahziya cleared her throat. She must show strength in front of her men, command their respect in some small way. Melting into a puddle at the Apthian prince’s feet just wouldn’t do. She sat up straighter in the saddle. “Prince Callum, you have not answered Captain Fermin’s question.” She put one hand on her hip, keeping the other one loose on the reins of her mount. “Why are you here?

  That gray-green gaze shifted her way and a smile twitched one side of Callum’s mouth. His eyes glittered with emotions she couldn’t define. Then he looked toward her men and his eyebrows rose. She knew he’d seen them draw their swords—he was just acting the lunkhead now.

  Rather than answer her, he looked at Fermin and shook his head. “Really, Captain. Swords drawn at dusk? It’s so…cliché.” Callum gave a shrug, shifting in his saddle. His horse nickered and shook its head, bridle jangling. He leaned forward and patted it on the neck. “Perhaps not as clichéd as swords at dawn but still…”

  “I say again, Prince Callum, state your business.” Fermin’s voice was tight.

  Rahziya glanced toward her captain and saw a muscle flexing in his jaw. He didn’t care for the prince’s flippant attitude, but good manners and no doubt the knowledge of Callum’s exceptional swordsmanship held his tongue. While he supported the idea of the two kingdom’s uniting, it didn’t mean he appreciated the prince’s sense of humor.

  “I imagine we’re here for the same thing you are.” Callum leaned back in his saddle and rested one hand on his thigh. Close to the hilt of his sword. His gaze came back to rest on Rahziya. “The Jewel of Apthgar.”

  The tension escalated. Leather creaked as men shifted in their saddles, yet Callum’s soldiers did not draw their weapons. Rahziya could see their gazes shifting from their master to her group, back and forth, keeping a close watch for what her men might do as well as waiting for a signal from their prince.

  “You and your men can turn around and go back to Apth.” Fermin’s words came from a still tightly held jaw. “The Garans discovered the location of the Jewel and the Garans will be the ones to claim victory in its retrieval.” His gaze traveled over the group of soldiers. “After all, you’re on Garan lan
d now. You have no claim here.”

  Callum looked at her. “Does he speak for the most important Garan here, princess? Is that your position as well? Shall we be forced to fight to see who has the right to retrieve the Jewel?” His eyes glittered with determination. “After all, the Jewel of Apthgar is in the realm of the dragons, not in Gar or Apth. None of us can legitimately claim it belongs to us.”

  Rahziya didn’t want to undermine her captain’s hardline stance—which she suspected might be partially for show—but she was equally unwilling to have any of these men hurt. Especially Callum. Knowing she must get control of the situation, she held up one hand. “Captain Fermin, please stand down. Allow me a private discussion with the prince and we will determine if there’s a diplomatic solution to this.”

  Fermin’s mouth firmed, showing his displeasure of her solution. “Your Majesty, I don’t think that’s wise—”

  “Nevertheless, it is my wish, Captain.” Rahziya swung her leg over the saddle and eased to the ground. Glad her short cloak provided her with some cover, she flexed her buttocks, trying to ease the numbness from being seated so long. She gave a hard stare to Fermin. “Please remain here. Perhaps you can begin setting up camp.” She glanced toward the tree line then at Callum. “Shall we?”

  He flashed a quick grin. His dismount was fluid and graceful, showing years of riding experience. He glanced at Fermin and raised an eyebrow. “Setting camp out here in the open, Captain? I’m not sure that’s wise.”

  “My expedition, Your Highness. My call.”

  Callum shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t think for one minute I’ll leave Princess Rahziya out here in the open where she’ll be vulnerable.”

  “Oh for heavens sake. Let’s not get into a pissing match,” Rahziya muttered. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, regardless.”