The Warlord's Domain by Peter Morwood Read Free Book Online

requirements of honor. A worthwhile reason. The defense of his lady, as the old songs said—the lady he wanted as his wife.
    And then she turned and looked straight at him, and her hand came up in a warding gesture. “Don’t say it, Aldric. Don’t even try. We had this discussion before, remember?”
    “Yes, I remember. That first night, in Erdhaven. But we didn’t finish it—at least, not to my satisfaction. And everything that happened between then and now. You left me—but then you came back. That tells me enough. We should finish with all this nonsense, all this running about doing the king’s bidding, for God knows he owes me peace and more after what I’ve done for him this past few months!”
    “When we go to Drakkesborg—” Kyrin began to say. Aldric looked at her, then raised one eyebrow.
    “What gave you the idea that anyone was going anywhere?”
    “You did. It’s not the king’s bidding anymore, is it?”
    “
Gemmel-altrou
is my father, and I have duties and obligations to discharge. Stealing back the Warlord’s Jewel for him is—”
    “He set a spell of compulsion in your brain, man! To
make
you do it.”
    “And he took it back. This is my decision, nobody else’s. Kyrin, I owe him my life!”
    “So you’re going to Drakkesborg to look for some blasted jewel that
might
help the old man to go home— wherever home for that one is—even if it might get you killed.”
    “Yes. But might, not will. The Warlord Etzel doesn’t know me, and—”
    “I’m coming with you, if it’s as safe as all that. We took our last leave from one another like… like a claw from flesh. We won’t be parted again.”
    Aldric, sitting cross-legged, bowed slightly. “Lady,” he said very, very softly, “I love you. When you went away, I missed you so very much.” He looked at the candle’s spike of flame as though he was watching something through a window, then back at Kyrin. “You make me whole,
Tehal’eiyya
Kyrin, my lady, my loved. But understand this. What I’m doing
is
dangerous; it scares me. I would as soon not be afraid for you as well.”
    Kyrin watched him silently, neither talking nor needing to talk; just looking—at his face, at his eyes, and at what she had seen in them during the quiet times when they lay in one another’s arms and looked at each other, as lovers were allowed to do. She had seen then what she was seeing now: the complexities of much troubled thought; an innocence that had never truly left him, despite all that had befallen, despite the mask of weary cynicism that he hid behind; the echo of a loneliness that was all but gone; and the joy when he looked straight at her with that expression in his eyes. Kyrin met that intensity once again, a glowing warmth like the gaze of Ymareth the Dragon, and wondered as she did so—just a little—how darkness could be so bright.
    “No. My lady, I want… To turn, and see you. To listen, and hear you. To reach out, and feel your hand in mine. I need you—as I need sunshine, or fire in winter. As I need food, and air. And honor… But wants and needs have to be set aside sometimes and this is one of those times.”
    Kyrin’s slender fingers closed around Aldric’s outstretched hand, squeezing hard. “I need you as much as you need me. My good lord and my own beloved, however could I not? When you go through the gates of Drakkesborg to…”—she hesitated a little, then made a sound that might have been an unborn laugh—”to be so damned honorable again… I’ll be with you. You go—and we both go.”
    Aldric just stared at her, then raised her hand to brush against his lips. “I could almost pity the Drusalan Empire.”
    Kyrin’s fingertips traced the scar running along his cheekbone. “Be more specific: pity the Grand Warlord. I suspect that he’ll need all the pity he can get.”
    The left-hand soldier drew his shortsword and took a pace forward, and the right-hand soldier followed suit— then leaned across the