Page 120 of King's Warrior

Rufe chuckled darkly. “Have you been to the temple of the Unnamed Goddess?”

“Not since we stayed there.”

Mother rose, wrapping Niam in a quick hug. “The goddess’s statue cracked many seasons ago, before you were born. The crack goes across her right wrist. Rufe’s injury wasn’t life-threatening but will likely result in a scar quite similar to the statue’s mark.” She chuckled. “Already rumors have spread about your consort being blessed by the goddess herself. I don’t think any will oppose your union.”

Niam ran his gaze over Rufe’s body, looking for any further sign of injury. “But you’re all right?”

“Just tired. I need food, sleep, and you. And not necessarily in that order.” Rufe sucked in a breath, face shading to crimson. “I’m sorry, Nera, I…”

Mother laughed. “I’d fault you if you didn’t want my son. Now go. I think you both need reassurance right now that an old woman cannot provide.”

Niam helped Rufe from his chair. They left his mother’s room on their way to Niam’s. No, not Niam’s.

Theirs.

Rufe lay twisted in the sheets, nestled on his side, dark lashes fluttering with his dreams. The snow had stopped around midnight, and now a full moon shone through the windows. Niam should close the shutters, but he added a log to the fire instead. Just a few more minutes to admire this beautiful man—his beautiful man, who’d lived a lifetime thinking of himself as less than.

Rufe Ferund was more than Niam ever dreamed, someone whose strength added to his own. How had Niam survived before that wounded soldier entered his life? Was it only a short time ago? Early fall. Now, late winter had settled in. Soon, the holy days would arrive, bringing festivities. He’d go with Rufe to lay a holly wreath at the Unnamed Goddess’s feet.

Rufe shifted, the sheets sliding down, showing more of his scarred skin. No number of scars took away from his beauty.

One dark eye popped open. Rufe yawned. “Please tell me it’s not morning already.”

“It’s not.” Niam closed the shutters over the window, keeping out what cold he could. “I simply couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to keep you awake. Seems like I did anyway.”

“Bed’s cold without you. I’m too tired to make more heat right now, but if you give me a few hours….”

Niam chuckled. “We have all the time in the world.” He crossed the floor, climbed into bed, and pulled Rufe’s head into his lap. “How’s your arm?”

“Still just a scratch. Barely. It’s a flesh wound.”

“I stabbed Lord Whreyn.”

Rufe sat up, eyes flashing with rage. “What? Why? Where were your guards?”

“Whreyn got away from them. Who would have believed he’d attempt to attack me in the presence of so many?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. He never got close. Remember the dagger you gave me?” Niam cocked one eyebrow in question.

“Yes.”

“It served me well. Exa suggested I practice. I did, every chance I got.”

“Thank every god and goddess ever worshipped. So Whreynis dead?”

Niam shook his head. “Merely injured. I intend for him to forfeit his life with his followers.” Niam certainly wouldn’t mourn the treacherous man’s passing.

“And his followers?”

There were so many more interesting topics of conversation, but Niam must remember he had a consort to keep apprised of the goings-on of the kingdom now. “Captain Casseign is overseeing their judgment. We’ll investigate their families, and the innocent will keep their lands, the guilty will not. I’m afraid I could not find my young cousin Bert, and no one seems inclined to tell me his whereabouts. I fear he’s met with a tragic end.”

“I’m sorry for all the betrayal and for your cousin.”

Niam’s heart ached. Should he have put Bert under guard so he couldn’t leave? Would the boy be safe now if he had? Time enough to wallow in guilt later. “I wish I’d done more for the boy.”

“He was no boy, but a young man, free to make his own choices.”

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