Falling Warriors Series Collection (Books 1, 2 & 1.5) Page 8

  That fact alone brought a burning desire to kill something. Xavier did not like to let his men down. He did not make a habit of being caught by surprise. He knew what to expect, and his battle strategies were legendary. It was the reason why the Izayges grew to be so powerful.

  Xavier turned his burning gaze to Tristan. “Observing is over. They declared where they stand when they attacked me and my men,” he growled out roughly, his glare heated by his rage and vengeance.

  “What will you have me do?”

  “Gather the men and tell them to get ready to ride back out to the village,” he ordered, frowning in thought. “Leave some men behind here, the rest travel back.”

  Tristan stood. “I’ll tell Tyronian to ready the men.”

  Xavier nodded, settling himself more comfortably as exhaustion set in. Just before Tristan exited the tent, he called out to him. “Tristan.”

  He paused, looking over his shoulder to meet his brother’s eyes.

  “We might have to tell the others.”

  Tristan raised his eyebrow, rotating his body so he was once again facing his brother. “You think it will come to that point?”

  Xavier nodded, his eyes flashing to a memory only he could see.

  Tristan sighed, turned back and exited the tent. The Izayges were the unofficial protectors of the tribes, since they were the most battle trained. Very rarely did they have to call upon other tribes.

  But these men were dangerous. More than that, they were a threat.

  Leawyn made her way back towards the tent from her visit with the horses. She shivered, pulling her wool cloak closer to her slim body. The snow had begun to take over the land, creating a soft, cold blanket for everything it touched.

  Snow had always been beautiful to Leawyn, however bitter the cold was. She wanted to make sure the weather didn’t affect Xavier’s health; his fever had only just broken, and he was finally beginning to regain some of his strength. She didn’t want him to regress.

  Leawyn hurried as best she could through the snow with that last thought. She stopped, letting out an irritated hiss when her feet slipped and she landed on her bottom on the cold ice. Grumbling to herself, she pushed herself up and tried to wipe the excess snow off her. Once she was satisfied, she let out a sharp whistle.

  A moment passed before Leawyn heard a soft neigh and the sound of hooves crunching against the slush as they made their way to her.

  She turned around and watched in amusement as Deydrey trudged through the snow to her, followed by her recent shadow, Killix. The mare blew on Leawyn’s face when she finally reached her. Killix came trotting proudly next to her a second after, also greeting her. Deydrey pinned her ears back, turning her head sideways to nip at Killix before swiftly pulling her head back so the eager stallion couldn’t return the favor.

  Leawyn rolled her eyes and pet Deydrey. “Easy, girl.”

  Deydrey let out another snort, bending her neck so she could rest her nose on Leawyn’s chest. Leawyn scratched her behind the ears a bit before she pulled her hand away.

  “Mind giving me a ride? I’m afraid my legs aren’t as strong against the snow as yours are,” Leawyn told Deydrey lightly, giving her one last pat on the neck before she stepped away.

  Deydrey shook out her mane before she bent her neck low and kneeled with her two front legs on the ground, bowing so Leawyn could climb on her back easily.

  Leawyn hopped on, and only when she was settled comfortably did Deydrey spring up and start to make her way towards camp at Leawyn’s gentle urging. Killix followed faithfully behind.

  Leawyn held onto Deydrey’s gray mane lightly, enjoying the gentle sway of the mare’s relaxed walk. She looked up when the sounds of the camp reached her ears and stared in surprise to see some of the men packing up their things.

  “Whoa,” Leawyn said softly, hopping off Deydrey when she came to an immediate stop at her command.

  “Go on now,” Leawyn told Deydrey, waving both her hands in a “shoo” manner. Deydrey threw her head as she turned away and loped off the way she came, her white and gray coat easily disappearing within the snow.

  Killix seemed to be debating whether to follow Deydrey or Leawyn. Turning his head, he looked in the direction Deydrey had cantered off to before swinging his muscled neck back to face Leawyn.

  Killix was just like his master, and though Leawyn found it amusing, she also found herself worrying for Deydrey.

  The poor mare didn’t stand a chance.

  “Oh, go on. I’ll be fine, and I don’t want to listen to your worrying,” Leawyn told Killix in exasperated amusement.

  Killix’s ears flickered up towards her before they bent down as he listened, no doubt for the faraway sounds of the mare. He seemed to debate for a moment more before he swiftly turned and trotted his way proudly in Deydrey’s direction.

  Leawyn smiled after him for a moment, then turned her attention back to the encampment. She frowned. They were packing up, but where were they headed?

  Her eyes searched for the familiar faces of her cousin and brother-in-law. Her eyebrows perked up when she caught a flash of blond hair that could only belong to one person besides herself.

  “Tyronian!”

  Tyronian stopped what he was doing and scanned the camp. He smiled when his eyes rested on Leawyn, and he uncaringly dropped the supplies he was holding, ignoring the grunt of irritation and glare Hassef gave him as he made his way over to her.

  “Hello, beautiful! Finally decide to ditch your husband and come to me, have you?” Tyronian grinned shamelessly, wiggling his eyebrows. Leawyn laughed in amusement, used to his playful flirting.

  “I’m afraid not, good sir. I came simply to ask a question.”

  He frowned in mock disappointment. “Well, that’s no good.”

  Leawyn giggled, making Tyronian smile at the sound. He heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. “I suppose since you have not come to accept my offer, I have no choice but to answer the question you have come to ask me.”

  Leawyn motioned her chin at the movement around the camp. “What’s going on?”

  Tyronian sighed yet again, taking off his own cloak and wrapping it around Leawyn’s shoulders as he answered her. “We’re packing up. Most of us are going back to the village while some men stay here to keep a lookout.”

  Leawyn frowned. “Who gave the order?” she asked, pulling Tyronian’s big cloak closer to her body to snuggle into the warmth.

  “Tristan did.”

  Her frown deepened as her eyes narrowed in thought. “Xavier isn’t strong enough to travel. Why would he give such an order?”

  Tyronian shrugged, not having the answer. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

  “Don’t worry, I will,” Leawyn snapped, her face scrunched in an adorable look of irritation only a woman could express. Tyronian wisely kept that thought to himself, though, and instead pointed to the direction he saw Tristan last.

  “He went that way,” Tyronian told her gleefully.

  “Thank you, Tyronian,” she nodded, patting his corded forearm before she held onto the cloak and trudged off in the direction he had pointed.

  “Let me know if you get cold at night, I’ll happily warm you up!” Tyronian called after her, chuckling at the way she waved at him over her shoulder. He sighed, resting his knuckles against both his hips.

  “Poor Tristan,” he chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the image of the little spitfire confronting his cousin. He turned back around, and frowned.

  “Hassef, what is that doing there?” Tyronian pointed at the supplies he dropped. “It’s suppose to be over there!”

  “Did you give the order for the men to pack camp and move out?” Leawyn demanded, crossing her arms as she stopped behind Tristan.

  Her brother-in-law sighed as he finished tying the dried meat into a straw sack before turning around to face her.

  “Yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you do that?” she demanded, turning her body sid
eways as Tristan walked past her to the other side of the cluster of trees they were in and grabbed another straw sack.

  “Because I can, and it’s what we need to do.” He threw the bag at his feet and kneeled to start putting more food into it.

  “What about Xavier?”

  “What about him?” Tristan replied, pulling the knot he created tighter.

  Leawyn’s mouth dropped open at his flippant tone. “Xavier is not strong enough to make this move, Tristan! He only just started to gain back his strength. If we move him, all the strength he regained and the recovery he made would diminish.” She strode over to stand directly in his sight. “Tristan!” she said sharply when he did not respond.

  She met his eyes dead on when he slowly turned his head to look up at her. “He cannot make this move,” she repeated firmly, her expression unrelenting. She softened her tone to some degree as she stared at him in confusion. “How could you not care about that?”

  Tristan shot to his feet. Leawyn reeled back when she suddenly found him in her face. “Why do you?” he hissed angrily.

  “What do y—”

  “You know exactly what I mean, Leawyn!” Tristan cut her off, his words sharp.

  She recoiled more, her neck straining to put some space between Tristan’s face and hers.

  “He’s my husband—”

  Tristan scoffed, pushing himself away from her.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, baffled.

  Tristan whirled around, and Leawyn could not manage to hide her gasp when she suddenly found herself pressed against a tree, his furious face level with hers.

  “I have watched what he has done to you!” Tristan bellowed, searing her with his heated gaze.

  “It was my ears that burned with the sounds of your screams.” Leawyn flinched, turning her face away from him. “It was I who heard your sobs as he left you like some common whore!” He raised his voice as he shook her a bit; causing her to straighten her shoulders and snap her gaze back to his.

  “And yet you take care of him. Like a dutiful little wife, when, weeks before, it was me you begged to help you escape,” he snarled bitterly, his expression transformed into a look of disgust as he let go of her shoulders and stepped away.

  “Yet, here you stand, worried about his health.” He laughed without humor, shaking his head. “You’re pathetic,” he spat.

  Leawyn swallowed, her eyes clouding over with tears as she hugged herself. Never had Tristan raised his voice at her, or given any indication he felt this way. For the first time, she truly saw the resemblance between Tristan and Xavier.

  “Xavier was nearly mortally wounded, Tristan. I couldn’t just let him die,” she said softly, wrapping her cloaks tighter around herself.

  “It was the right thing to do, and if I was a lesser woman, I would have let him die. But I’m not.” She raised her chin in proud defiance when he turned to look at her. “Out of everyone, I thought you understood that.”

  Tristan’s jaw tightened as he looked away, not having a response. Leawyn looked down at the snow-covered ground and slowly turned around to head back to camp. She took a few steps before she paused and turned her body halfway to look back at him.

  “I remember once, man told me to accept my fate,” she said.

  Tristan slowly looked up, his eyes meeting hers like they did what seemed now like so long ago.

  “Those were the words that burned my ears.”

  Tristan flinched, the slight at him sharp and cutting. He looked away from her, and Leawyn didn’t spare him a second more as she made her trek back to her tent.

  Leawyn threw the flap over her shoulder with an angry jerk. She stopped, breathing in deeply to try and calm her raging emotions.

  She looked down and grimaced in disgust at her wet clothing. She marched over to the place that held her other clothes and shrugged off both cloaks. She pulled the wet dress over her head quickly and threw it on the ground. Then she grabbed a thick, long-sleeved dress at random.

  Leawyn sighed and closed her eyes, immediately feeling warmer now that she had on dry clothes. The angry words Tristan had thrown at her laid heavily on her mind. It brought back emotions she had tried to block away when she had first set eyes on Xavier.

  She did not know what she was doing, and the feeling of being so hopelessly lost was weighing her down.

  Leawyn bit her bottom lip hard to hold back the urge to cry.

  Her eyes opened and landed at the fire that was growing dim. Deciding it was a task, and doing something would be better than doing nothing, Leawyn made her way over to the pit. It didn’t take her very long to have the fire roaring once again.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head against her knees as she stared at the dancing flames.

  Leawyn hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open. She hadn’t had much sleep; her time and energy was consumed with making sure Xavier survived the fever that tried many times to take his life. The few minutes of rest she did get was on top of the animal skins on the floor.

  She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she felt arms wrap under her head and under her knees. She startled awake, only to stare up into the dark eyes of her husband leaning over her, getting ready to pick her up.

  “Xavier, what are you doing out of bed?” She felt groggy but, nevertheless, sat up. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!” she admonished, frowning. She stood to try and usher him back to the pallets.

  Xavier leaned back, allowing her to rise, but planted his feet, not permitting her to move him. “You should be in bed too.”

  Leawyn froze, caught by surprise. She glanced up to see he was looking down at her, his face the usual mask of indifference that made it difficult to know what he was thinking.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, but you need to lie down,” she said as she tried once again to usher him back to bed.

  Xavier didn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed the hand she rested on his arm and held it with his own. Leawyn stilled at the contact, looking up slowly to meet his eyes.

  “You need to sleep,” he told her, pulling her body closer. “I know you haven’t been sleeping much, and the floor is no place for you to try.”

  “But you need to—”

  “And I will,” Xavier interrupted her, tugging on her hand as he turned. “You’re just going to go with me,” he told her firmly. Leawyn gazed past his shoulder to the bed pallets, looking at them wearily.

  A warm hand cupped her jaw, urging her to look back up at him.

  “Just sleep, Leawyn, nothing else,” Xavier promised softly, keeping his gaze locked on her.

  “Alright,” she whispered, glancing up at him hesitantly. He said nothing. Instead, he turned back to the bed, keeping his hold on her hand until they reached it. He dropped her hand, and she settled down on the bed pallet obediently as he lay next to her, throwing the thick furs over them both.

  Leawyn lay stiffly for a long while, trying to keep her erratic heartbeat from being made obvious through her breathing. She heard a sigh, and a moment later she was wrapped up by a muscled arm. Xavier tugged her closer until she settled with her head resting on his chest.

  Satisfied, he kept his arm around Leawyn, holding her tight, and quickly fell asleep.

  She didn’t dare move, still in shock at the gesture. She peeked up at him and saw he really was asleep. She relaxed. She did not want to admit it, but being cuddled against him made her feel warmer, and she couldn’t fight the shiver of delight that ran through her.

  Surrounded by the warmth of her husband, Leawyn’s body quickly relaxed, and soon she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her protectively.

  Leawyn wasn’t sure what woke her up exactly, and it took her a minute to clear the grogginess out of her mind and tune into her surroundings.

  The memory of Xavier waking her up before made her realize the feeling of his heavy arm draped over her possessively was absent. She sat up, holding the f
urs close to her body as she looked around.

  Her blue eyes landed on the muscular back of her husband, who was standing a few paces away from the fire. Leawyn took a moment to truly look at her husband.

  His muscles were much more defined than any other man’s she’d seen, and they rippled whenever he moved. His shoulders were wide, and he had two bulging muscles that stood out on either side of his neck. His waist was slim, the V of his hips outlining the solid eight abdomen muscles. A small line of rough dark hair started from his navel and led the way down to a path he made sure she knew well.

  She avoided those memories and instead returned her attention to his back again. She never noticed how many scars her husband had until now. The most recent one from the arrow was still an angry red color, the skin around the wound puckered.

  One of the older scars was on his ribs, with a few smaller scars surrounding it. There was a long scar which started from his shoulder blade and traveled all the way down to his right hip. It must have been given to him by some unknown enemy who tried to kill him from behind.

  Leawyn could see at least two other arrow wound scars. One was below his left shoulder, closer to his arm, and the other below the base of his neck. Had the arrow been shot a few inches higher, Xavier would be dead.

  She knew if he were to turn around, there would be a different array of scars on his chest, arms, and legs.

  His scars were the stories of the wars he had fought, and to acquire so many and still be able to draw breath was remarkable. Xavier was not only a warrior; he was also a survivor.

  “You shouldn’t be awake.”

  Her husband’s voice snapped her out of the trance she was in, and she looked up, expecting to meet his gaze, but he hadn’t turned around.

  Leawyn’s face flushed with the knowledge he had felt her staring.

  “Yes, well…” she cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she countered smoothly, only to scowl when Xavier let out a throaty chuckle. Her scowl deepened when he didn’t say anything more.