Samara's Peril Read online

  Rayad returned to his chair and rested his head in his hands, praying. Jace wanted to pray too, but the only words that formed were, Please, Elôm, protect her. Over and over, he spoke them in his mind. This would be one of the longest evenings of his life.

  Not three minutes later, the door opened and he jerked around. In walked both Anne and Kyrin.

  Rayad frowned at them. “What happened?”

  “Thank Elôm that I met Kyrin in the hall,” Anne said breathlessly. “Rothas just went to his office.”

  A sick feeling tangled Jace’s stomach. Kyrin had almost been caught! She would have walked right in on him.

  Kyrin looked out the window, but even the abundant morning sunshine couldn’t shake the coldness that crept in whenever she thought about last night. She hadn’t slept well, and every dark hour she had lain awake she couldn’t stop herself from imagining Rothas catching her. They would try it again tonight. Her scalp and arms prickled, and she shivered. If she wasn’t careful, she would talk herself out of this.

  She turned resolutely. Anne had just left for breakfast, so Kyrin went about tidying their room. Staying active would help her ignore the increasing nerves, at least until she went downstairs to join the others. She wanted to make sure all the members of the Cantan family were occupied with breakfast before she left the room. The last thing she wanted was to cross paths with James again. The looks he gave her scared her as much as Rothas did.

  Praying quietly to herself, she arranged Anne’s dresses and gathered up the ones she needed to have washed. A light knock came at the door. Kyrin froze and stared at the knob. Her heart throbbed in her throat. What if it was James? Her gaze darted around for a place to hide, but then came Rachel’s voice. Kyrin sagged, a bit faint, and pressed her hand to her chest. She needed to not let her panic take hold so easily.

  Kyrin quickly crossed the room to let Jace’s mother inside.

  “My lady.” Her voice was still breathless from the fright.

  Rachel smiled kindly, helping to calm her. “I was hoping you were still up here. I would love to talk for a bit.”

  “Of course.” Kyrin couldn’t turn down what might be her only chance to speak with Jace’s mother. He had told them all about her, but Kyrin wanted to get to know the woman for herself.

  Rachel stepped inside and closed the door. When they had taken seats, she said, “It’s good to meet you more formally. Jace has spoken of you so fondly.”

  Kyrin smiled, warmth spreading up through her chest. “He means a great deal to me too. I am overjoyed that he has found you and has family now.” In her mind, she relived the moment shortly after they had met when she had asked him if he knew if he had any family and his pained answer that he didn’t.

  “From what I hear, you and Rayad have been his family for the last couple of years. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for him.”

  Kyrin shook her head. “I haven’t really done anything, just striven to be his friend.”

  “But that’s just what he needed—someone to accept him and help him find his place.”

  “I am more than happy when I can help him.” Kyrin thought back over their friendship so far. Her influence over Jace was only one side of it. “I think he underestimates what a source of strength he has been for me. He too has seen me through some hard times.”

  Her words caught a little at the back of her throat as the emotions kicked in.

  Rachel’s eyes filled with compassion. “News from Valcré always travels fast. I’m sorry for what you’ve lost.”

  Before she could even hope to stop them, tears rushed to Kyrin’s eyes, and she took a quick, hard breath as an unexpected sob rose out of her heart. The lady’s tender words, coupled with the strain she was under, broke the wall enclosing her pain, and though she tried to force them back, two tears spilled over. Almost six months had passed since her father’s death, but the pain still came in waves that were unbearable at times. Wiping her cheeks, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, no, dear, don’t be.” Rachel reached out to rub her shoulder. “I understand the pain of loss.”

  Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes to stop the flow, Kyrin breathed deeply and cleared her throat before looking at Rachel again. “Jace was there for me, and for my brother, the whole time.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  Kyrin sniffed and gave her a wobbly smile of whole-hearted agreement.

  “But he doesn’t see it, does he?” Rachel’s voice took on a sad tone.

  Kyrin sighed. It was always what pained her most about Jace. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Because of his past and his ryrik blood?”

  “Yes. He can’t seem to let go of the lies he’s heard all his life. Rayad and I try so hard to help him, but . . .” Kyrin shook her head, thinking back to the fight in Landale. “It’s never enough. It just won’t leave him. He needs proof and assurance that we just can’t give him.” She shrugged, helpless. “Maybe you can try.”

  Rachel reached out to squeeze her hand now. “I certainly will.”

  Jace little more than picked at his breakfast. His insides had been in a tumult ever since last night. This was such a bad idea. Kyrin shouldn’t have to risk herself like this. In fact, he had spent most of the night tossing about in bed, trying to find any way he could to get her out of it. He should have put up more of a protest back at camp… not that it would have changed anything.

  A welcome distraction came in the form of Elian walking into the servants’ hall. At this point, only Jace and the others from Landale were present. Elian approached the table and told Jace quietly, “Your mother can see you now.”

  Jace rose to follow him. Talking to his mother wouldn’t erase his fear for Kyrin, but at least he wouldn’t have to sit around all day, powerless and fretting about what he couldn’t change.

  Elian looked back at him as they turned in the opposite direction of the stairs. “She thought it would be nice to talk in the garden.”

  Jace liked the sound of this. Fresh air and open space would be much more soothing than sitting indoors. Maybe it would even ease the tension and worry over Kyrin’s second attempt at the office tonight.

  As yesterday, Elian was careful about their path and who saw them along the way. Jace sighed. If only there was no need for secrecy. The sneaking around didn’t help his nerves.

  Behind the manor house, they reached a sprawling garden. Various shrubs, rose bushes, and hedges lined the gravel walkways, highlighted by the bright green of immature leaves. A few early blooming flowers added splashes of white and yellow, but the real beauty wouldn’t show itself for another month or so.

  Following the winding path, they came to a secluded area behind a grouping of tall shrubs. A stone bench sat under a decorative arbor, where Rachel waited. Her smile blossomed with the love of a mother for her child. It gave him a moment of peace, despite the circumstances.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He echoed her, and then she glanced at Elian, who said, “I’ll keep watch and alert you of anyone nearby.”

  “Thank you,” Rachel told him.

  Elian nodded, his gaze lingering before he turned to go. Jace watched him until he took up his guard position several yards away. There was something in the way he looked at Jace’s mother. Not inappropriate, but something sad, wistful. He gave Jace similar looks. Jace frowned a little as he and his mother took seats on the bench. What story did those looks hold?

  Rachel drew a deep breath, and Jace looked over at her. She appeared to gather her thoughts, and then shifted so she could sit facing him.

  “I think you should know that Elian and I have a long history.” She must have seen the curiosity and questions in his expression. She winced as if unburying painful memories. “My father hired him when I was fifteen. Obviously, as the daughter of an earl, I shouldn’t have taken any interest in him, but he was so kind, friendly, charming, and yet always honorable. He was also good friends with Ch
arles. We hardly spoke beyond simple greetings and occasional small talk, yet somehow we grew to love each other.”

  A smile flashed briefly across her lips, but faded. “Then, after the attack and my decision to keep you, Elian came to me—it was probably one of the first times we truly talked alone—and he asked me to marry him. He wasn’t a noble, but he promised to do whatever it took to take care of me, and that he would raise you as his own.”

  A hollow ache rose up inside Jace’s chest as he absorbed this information, and his gaze shifted to Elian. The man could have been his father. Wanted to be his father. How much different would life have been to be raised and loved by a man of honor and integrity? Pain pierced his heart to contemplate what could have been and the horrors he could have avoided.

  “Of course, my father wouldn’t allow it,” his mother continued sadly. “He almost fired Elian, but I convinced him to let him stay.”

  Jace returned his gaze to her, his eyes burning. “How do you do it? How do you endure so much from Rothas when . . .” He didn’t know what to say. In his heart, he knew it would be wrong for his mother to leave her husband to be with Elian, or even entertain such thoughts. Yet, he couldn’t imagine the deep heartache she must experience to know the man who truly loved and respected her was the not the man she had married.

  And Elian. No wonder he had been so disgusted by Rothas’s perusal of Anne. Jace clenched his fists, heat coursing down his arms with the intense desire to somehow make things right.

  Rachel sighed at his question, many long years of weariness and struggle behind it. “Because Elian and I both know what is and what can never be. We’ve had to be on constant guard over our hearts. It hasn’t been easy, but I know Elôm’s desire for me is to respect, remain faithful, and even love Rothas. There are many times I feel I’ll surely fail, but those are the days I must trust Elôm to carry me.”

  Jace rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands for a long moment, fighting bitterness, despair, and one choking question—why? Why had both he and his mother had to suffer so? Had she married Elian, everything would have been different. She would have a husband who loved her, and he would have a father, and they would be a family right now. Elôm, what purpose could this serve?

  “Jace.”

  At his mother’s gentle voice, he straightened and let out a long breath, but the question still burned into him.

  “It’s all right,” she told him, her voice earnest. “It may not appear to be, but Elôm has a way of working things out.”

  Jace had no reply. If only he could see evidence of that, but all he had ever witnessed was how cruelty was always winning over those too weak to fight it—how cruel men always got what they wanted, leaving those beneath them to suffer.

  His mother drew his attention again, certainly having guessed his thoughts. “I realize after everything I’ve told you, you must hate your grandfather very much and think him very hard and cruel.”

  Jace ground his teeth together. That was just what he thought. The man had ruined both of their lives.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel murmured. “That was never my intention. He isn’t that way, he’s just… he’s very set in his ways. He loves me and Charles very much, and in all that he did, he truly believes he has acted in my best interest. And while I don’t condone his actions for a moment, I have, in time, forgiven him. I hope you can too.”

  Jace bowed his head. Such a difficult thing to ask of him. Sensing his mother’s gaze, he finally choked out, “I’ll try.” But it wouldn’t happen overnight.

  Hope took hold in her eyes, and her face lit up in a smile. “I spoke with Kyrin this morning.”

  Jace’s heavy emotions lifted some, eagerness to know what his mother thought taking hold. Kyrin was one of the most important people in his life. If his mother didn’t think as highly of her as he did, it would probably crush him.

  Rachel’s smile brightened as if she knew this. “She’s a lovely young woman.”

  Jace didn’t realize he’d held his breath until he let it out in relief. “She is.”

  “And quite remarkable, especially for someone so young.”

  “She’s been through a lot, and has dealt with it far better than I could have.” As strong as Jace was physically, it was Kyrin’s strength of character and faith that he most admired and envied.

  His mother’s expression softened. “You love her, don’t you?”

  Jace blinked. He hadn’t even been so direct with himself yet. Of course he loved her—she was his best friend. He was closer to her than anyone, but he knew that wasn’t the love his mother meant. Did he even know what that sort of love was? How could he love her if he didn’t know? Yet, even if it was love, it could never work.

  He cleared his throat, avoiding the question. “There are better men for her than me.”

  His mother drew her brows together. “I don’t believe that.”

  Jace sighed. His mother didn’t truly know him. How could she after less than two days? He cared more deeply for Kyrin than he ever had for anyone, but he could never be the sort of man she deserved. She was too special. She needed someone exceptional. Not someone who constantly struggled the way he did.

  He tried to shrug off the sting of those facts. “Besides, there’s someone back at camp she spends a lot of time with. He’s very strong in his faith. He’s a good man.” Everything I’m not. Still, it was surprisingly difficult to talk of Kyrin and Timothy together.

  “Jace, you’re a good man.”

  He looked at her, unable to hide his doubt.

  “Why don’t you believe that?”

  He swallowed hard, trying to loosen the stranglehold around his throat that made his voice crack. “Good men aren’t guilty of murder.”

  “Those sins are in the past.” Rachel reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Elôm doesn’t want nor expect you to still carry them now.” She stared for a long moment into his eyes. “You do have a soul, Jace.”

  The words plunged into his heart and then rippled through him. He hadn’t intended for her to know about this fear.

  “Yes, I know how you struggle,” she said quietly. “I can see it every time we speak of Elôm. It’s as if you are trying to hide yourself from Him, believing you’re too broken and lost for Him to love. Oh, Jace, that just isn’t true. He does love you.”

  Jace ground his teeth together. Why was it so hard to believe that? Perhaps because so many people believed the opposite. How did he know for sure what was true?

  “Jace, look at me.” He did, and she raised her hand to his cheek. “Always remember this: Yes, you are part ryrik, but you are also part of me. You are my son, my flesh and blood. How could Elôm love you any less than I do? I know I did not give birth to a soulless monster.”

  Jace’s breath trembled past his lips, the words soaking into his mind.

  His mother’s eyes grew teary. “And just look at how Elôm brought us together. It wasn’t by chance. How could it be? He cares about us; about me, and about you.”

  Deep inside his heart, a small fissure opened up in the thick walls he always tried to use as protection, and a little light streamed into the darkness. Maybe she was right. If he couldn’t trust his own mother, who could he trust?

  “My lady!”

  Elian’s sharp warning jerked their attention to the sound of approaching footsteps. Striding straight toward them was Rothas, his eyes dark with rage.

  Jace had just enough time to reach his feet before Rothas’s fist latched onto his jerkin and slammed him back against the arbor. The impact forced the air from his lungs, but his ryrik blood kicked in, flushing through his body in preparation for a fight. A sharp blade flashed in front of his face and hovered dangerously close to his throat. He balled his fists, drawing on every ounce of willpower to keep from taking swift and decisive action. He would have liked nothing more than to do the man serious bodily harm. However, he knew the trouble it would bring.

  “You dare touch my wife!” R
othas snarled.

  The temperature of Jace’s blood rose another few degrees at such an accusation coming from an unfaithful boor like Rothas. Elôm help him, he wanted so badly to plant his fist in the man’s face.

  “Rothas!”

  But the man was too intent on Jace to notice his wife. His dagger pricked Jace’s throat, and Jace was one second from acting in defense when Elian reached them. He grabbed Rothas’s wrist, prying the dagger a few inches from Jace’s neck.

  “Rothas!” Rachel tried again, more forcefully. Again, she went unheeded.

  Rothas’s burning glare fixed on Elian. “Unless you want to find yourself mucking out horse stalls for the rest of your life, you’ll stand aside.”

  Elian did not budge, his expression just as set and fierce as Rothas’s.

  “No, Rothas, listen to me,” Rachel pleaded.

  Yet Rothas snarled in Elian’s face, “Stand aside!”

  Jace’s stomach twisted. This was going to end in bloodshed—either his own or Elian’s. He could see it in Rothas’s violent eyes. But then his mother spoke again.

  “He’s my son!”

  Rothas’s head whipped around, and he fixed his flashing gaze on her now. She stood, unflinching, her voice dropping back to a normal volume, but low with seriousness.

  “He’s Jace. Let him go.”

  No one moved for a long moment. Rothas continued to stare wide-eyed at Rachel, who held his piercing look without wavering. At last, the man’s hold loosened, and Jace pulled away while he had the chance. Elian too stepped back, standing near Jace, ready to step in and shield him should Rothas advance again. Jace rested his still curled fingers where his sword should have been. It had been hard to leave it sitting in his room, and this was why. One way or another, trouble always seemed to find him.

  Rothas shot Jace a cold look. Jace could almost see the gears of the man’s cunning mind turning as he returned his attention to Rachel.

  “That’s impossible.”

  Rachel shook her head. “No.”