"C'mon, ya bloody cur," Rafael said to his companion. Dressed in a piece of soiled brown cloth that hung to his knees, torn at the elbows and shredded at the wrists, Rafael looked as if his whole life had been a battle. He stumbled up to the next knight, his bare feet sliding in the mud.
"I think I cut me bloody toe on one o' the blades," Johannan, his companion, said, limping and trying to peer down at his mud-covered foot. He was an older man with a head full of white hair. His entire body was caked with mud, his skin barely covered by a tunic and breeches that were so torn and ragged they hung from his thin limbs like an old cleaning cloth that had long outlived its usefulness.
"Oh, quit your complainin'. We ain't got time." Rafael bent down before the knight and lifted his helmet from his head. The knight groaned and Rafael stood quickly, backing into his companion, yelling, "'E's alive!"
"Oh, bloody hell," Johannan replied, and shoved passed Rafael. He bent on one knee in the mud and produced a dagger from his belt. He threw back the knight's chin, exposing white flesh, and drew the blade across it. "You're such a bloody woman," he commented, before cutting the knight's purse strings and handing the purse to Rafael.
Rafael took it. "Don't forget his hands!"
Johannan shifted his position and reached for the knight's gloved hand. He pulled the metal glove off and lifted up the bare hand. One ring glittered on the knight's first finger, and it was promptly removed. Johannan handled the ring to Rafael.
"Blimey! I believe it's sold gold," Rafael gasped, and stuck it in his mouth, biting down.
His companion hit him in the leg and Rafael gagged before spitting the ring out into his palm. "What ya trying' ta do, choke me? I coulda swallowed that!"
"Lookie 'ere, mate," Johannan said, and crawled over to another fallen knight.
Rafael followed and bent over the knight, hoping to find riches beyond measure. His mouth gaped at what Johannan had found.
Johannan lifted his hands to the knight's helmet and gently tugged it off.
The soft feminine face was totally out of place amid the destruction and death.
"It's her. It's the Priestess of Death!" Rafael gasped, staring raptly at her face.
Johannan shoved Rafael out of the way and climbed over her body to kneel at her head. He gathered her smooth hair in his bloody, mud-splattered hands and said, "I want this as proof. No one will bloody believe it." His sharp dagger was dull with blood.
Rafael gasped as the demon appeared, coming out of the midst of fire, heading toward them. His eyes glowed red, like the devil himself, and Rafael knew immediately who it was. "Johannan," Rafael croaked.
"Can't ya see I'm busy here?" Johannan insisted, putting the blade to her white forehead.
Suddenly, a weight so intense it threatened to crush his arm bore down upon Johannan's shoulder and he was lifted up until his feet were dangling in mid-air. The pain dulled his shoulder and his arm, and he dropped the dagger. Then, he was spun around until he was staring into eyes as Gold as the sun.
"She is mine ."
The words seemed to come from the depths of hell, for the demon's lips barely moved.
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," Rafael interrupted meekly. When the gold eyes turned to scorch him to the ground, Rafael quivered and stuttered, "Your Princelyship… Your Demon… I – I believe she's dead."
For the first time, the Prince of Demon's brilliant eyes fastened on the woman and he released Johannan, who dropped to the ground like a heavy stone. "Pray you are wrong," the giant snarled, and bent beside the Priestess of Death.
Rafael edged around the warrior woman and the giant, moving to his friend's side. The two exchanged glances and then turned back to the Prince of Demons…to find that his golden gaze was fixed on them. The demon stood slowly from his crouching position and Rafael's knees shook.
"Be gone from this place," the demon said, his eyes glowing as if the fires of hell had leapt to life in his body.
The two beggars turned and ran. Johannan slipped once in the mud and blood of the battlefield, but quickly stood and raced after Rafael.
Sesshomaru watched until the two scavengers were out of sight, then turned back to her.
"Kagome," he said, kneeling again at her side. And then more tenderly, "Priestess."
He slid his hand behind her neck and attempted to lift her head, trying to awaken her. He immediately felt moisture and pulled his hand away to see blood staining his fingers.
Anguish jarred his body and he scooped Kagome up into his arms, pushing another fallen knight from her legs. "Ah, God, Kagome," he whispered miserably, wishing for the hundredth time that she was not a knight. And especially not his enemy.
With long strides, he took her to his tent.
Sesshomaru stared at Kagome's face. Gently, he ran the rag over her cheeks, wiping at the mud. He had removed her armor and cleaned and bandaged the cut on the back of her head. Through the whole process, she had not moved, not even groaned.
Sesshomaru's stomach was twined so tight that he thought he would snap. He wasn't sure what the ache in his chest was, a heavy pressure that constricted, crushing his lungs until he could hardly breathe. Perhaps he was getting sick. He found that he could not take his eyes from Kagome's somber face. It was as if she were sleeping. Her entire face was relaxed, her soft lips parted.
Sesshomaru felt a sudden need for her. He wanted to kiss her, thrust his tongue between those lips. The memory of her kiss had lingered like the delicate fragrance of a rose these past weeks, unwanted and distracting. The thought had returned during the long, lonely nights, and he thought upon the vow he had given to Kagome in the last moments he was with her: I'll find you again. For weeks he had wondered what had possessed him to promise that. No woman could be as he remembered her. Defiant and headstrong, yet so soft and innocent.
As he stared down at her, she was more than he remembered. Softer, more fragile.
"Damn," he murmured, standing and raking a hand through his hair. Where had the hatred gone? Only weeks before he had convinced himself that he had vowed to find her so that he could bring her to The West to be humiliated for the death of Rin, so she could be punished, imprisoned in his dungeons. He had told himself that had been the plan all along. Nothing more. The hatred had sustained him through the long nights and through the pain of missing Rin.
In King Tashio's camp, word had reached them of her "betrayal". He remembered the day with heavy guilt.
He had been eating with Tashio, discussing the strategy for reaching The Sanctuary. The East had been cutting off the roads so that forward progress was impossible. The conversation had somehow turned to Kagome.
"What is she like?" King Tashio had asked.Sesshomaru had pondered the question for a moment. He would not lie to his king. "She is…a warrior, my lord.""No, no. What is the woman like? Is she ugly?""No," he had answered, more quickly than he had intended. "When she does not have her armor on, she is delicate and soft. But she likes to pretend she is not. She is also as cunning as a fox." He had looked Tashio in the eye. "If she were born English, all of England would be at her feet."
"I have never heard you praise a woman so. She is pretty, then?""The little vixen has caused me more than one restless night."Tashio bit into a pear tart. "And a warrior, too? It is obvious you are intrigued by the girl. What does she think of you?"Sesshomaru thought upon the night he had been called to her tent, the way she had responded to his kiss, his touch. He did not answer, but attempted to change the subject. "I look forward to engaging the French Army."
Tashio's eyes narrowed, and he pursued the topic with an unwavering single-mindedness. "She may not be there," he replied.Sesshomaru paused in mid-bite to glance at his liege."Tell me, Sesshomaru, did she aid in your escape?"The hairs at the nape of Sesshomaru's neck tingled. "No. Bankotsu got me out.""Most of The East believes she aided you." Tashio dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "She has brought dishonor to herself."
Sesshomaru's brow darkened with each slanderous word. He dropped the meat onto the table and rose, walking to the tent flap. He stared out at the tents of Western knights without really seeing them."This new disturbs you?" Tashio wondered, his voice curious.Sesshomaru could not answer for the anger that closed his throat.
If Sesshomaru had looked up, he would have seen his liege studying him with pensive eyes, obviously intrigued by his reaction. "Because if that disturbs you, I know something that may disturb you even more."Sesshomaru felt his shoulder muscles tense, his neck grow stiff.After a long pause, Tashio said, "She has been betrothed to another man."
Betrothed! Sesshomaru felt his jaw clench, his hands tighten to fists. Rage burned through him like a roaring fire, enflaming his veins. The thought of another between her creamy thighs… His knuckles cracked, he was squeezing his fists so hard. He wiped the image aside. That was not the reason he was so angry, he told himself. She had to return to The West with him to pay for Rin's death.
"Sesshomaru?" Tashio called.
He turned and saw the glimmer of curiosity in Tashio's eyes. He could not get the picture of her vicious people ridiculing her out of his mind. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, and his mind burned with feverish fury at the torment and anguish Kagome must have endured. "They are lies. She did not help me. She has been wrongly accused.""She did not publicly deny it."Sesshomaru frowned in confusion.
Even now, as Sesshomaru stared down at her peaceful face, the confusion returned. Why had she allowed the rumor to spread? And what of her marriage? Did she love the man? Sesshomaru fumed. She would not marry anyone. He had laid claim to Kagome, and no other man would touch her. "Prince. The king has ordered all prisoners executed."
Sesshomaru spun to find Bankotsu standing in the entrance to his tent. His right arm was in a sling, but his left hand held a sword. The fall from Kagome's ledge to the murky waters below had cost him the use of his arm. Sesshomaru had reset it the best he could.
Bankotsu turned and Sesshomaru felt his anxiety abate. He had not seen Kagome. For a moment, the thought of protecting Kagome from death overrode his sense of loyalty to his friend. Sesshomaru would have stopped him from hurting her – in any way he could.
Then Bankotsu's words struck him. King Tashio had ordered the death of all prisoners! But why? The ransom alone would bring enough gold to finance the war for another year!
Slowly, Sesshomaru rose and turned to find Bankotsu standing not two feet from him! Bankotsu's eyes were accusing, and his knuckles were white with restrained anger. "You told me you killed her," he bit out. "I told you I took care of it," Sesshomaru replied, a strange calm settling over his entire body. "Obviously you were wrong." Bankotsu took only one step toward Kagome, but Sesshomaru moved into his path, his broad shoulders squared.
"She is mine." "She is Tashio's!" "She is mine," Sesshomaru repeated, staring his friend in the eye. Bankotsu stepped back. "Tashio has ordered all prisoners slain." The thought struck Sesshomaru like a blow to the chest. He frowned and glanced at Kagome for a moment. "I will speak with him." "Sesshomaru," Bankotsu said, grabbing his arm. "She is poison to you. If you keep her, she will bring nothing but trouble." Sesshomaru's thoughtful gaze turned to Bankotsu. He studied his friend for a moment, the fierce anger in his clenched teeth, the confusion in his scowling brows. "Do not harm her," he finally said, before leaving his tent to seek out King Tashio.
His long strides took him through the camp quickly. He ignored the cries of pain that crescendoed around him, his ears deaf to the screams as death claimed the prisoners. He reached Tashio's tent and entered only to find it empty Sesshomaru frowned, perplexed. He turned and quit the tent only to see King Tashio and a group of knights approaching.
"Sesshomaru," Tashio called as he came nearer. "Those bastard Easterners raided our supplies." Sesshomaru ignored his words. "My lord, did you order the prisoners executed?" "Yes. They are attacking from the rear! There are too many prisoners for us to watch. If they rally, all of our gains will be lost," Tashio proclaimed, and moved past Sesshomaru into the tent.
Sesshomaru cast a quick look in the direction of his own tent before following Tashio inside. He watched as Tashio put out his arms and two squires appeared at his side and began to scrub his armor free of dried blood. Raucous voices resounded around Tashio, who appeared to hear all of them, throwing an occasional nod to one knight and a violent shake of his head to another.
Finally, the armor was clear and the squires hurriedly returned his shining sword to its sheath. Tashio moved toward the tent flap once again. "M'lord," Sesshomaru called, his voice booming over the commotion. All sound ceased and Tashio turned to Sesshomaru.
Sesshomaru paused, trying to judge Tashio's mood. If he was jubilant over the victory, he would be generous. If Tashio was angry over the Eastern raids, he would order Kagome's death. Indecision flitted through Sesshomaru's mind, an uncomfortable feeling he did not enjoy.
"You have something to say?" Tashio wondered. Sesshomaru was aware that every gaze was upon him. He straightened his shoulders. "I would speak with you in private, sire." The ghost of a frown crossed Tashio's face before he motioned everyone out of his tent. As the tent flap swooshed shut, Tashio turned to face Sesshomaru. "This had better be important. I am in the middle of a war."
"Sire, I have found the Priestess of Death," Sesshomaru said. Tashio's brows drew together, his look thoughtful. "Is she alive?" "Barely," he answered, the word constricting his throat. Tashio moved past Sesshomaru, saying, "I would see her." Sesshomaru followed him into the camp. As they exited, the others gazed with curiosity as the king paused to ask, "Where is she?"
"This way, sire," Sesshomaru murmured, and moved to lead the way. With each step, hope began to pound through his body. The king deemed Kagome important enough for a glance; perhaps he would see the wisdom of sparing her life. When they entered his tent, Sesshomaru had to glare at the other men to keep them from following. Bankotsu's face was grim, his mouth a hard line as he bowed to King Tashio and stepped from Kagome's side to let the king look down upon her peaceful form.
Sesshomaru watched Tashio carefully. Tashio's brow furrowed as his blue eyes scanned every curve. "She is not what I expected," Tashio finally stated. "You were right, Sesshomaru. She does not look like The Easterners. She does not look like my enemy." "But she is," Bankotsu snarled. "She alone has killed thousands of our men."
"Bankotsu," Sesshomaru warned. Tashio turned slowly from Kagome's soft features to face Sesshomaru. "Bankotsu, leave us." With a slight, stiff nod, Bankotsu departed. "He is right, you know," Tashio told Sesshomaru. "You said it yourself. She is as cunning as a fox." "She has also been spurned by her people." "True." Tashio cast a long look over his shoulder at Kagome before looking back at Sesshomaru. "But who do you think she will blame for it?" Sesshomaru frowned. He had not considered the consequences of his actions. He would deal with them as they arose.
Tashio ran his hands over his face in fatigue and sat in a nearby chair. "How do you think it would look were I to spare her life?" Sesshomaru sat heavily across from Tashio, watching silently for a sign of judgment. "You have served me well, Sesshomaru," Tashio told him, his back straightening with the weight of his decision. "Many battles have hinged on your strategic maneuvers, your skill on the battlefield. Perhaps a castle would be a better reward."
"I have a castle, my liege," Sesshomaru replied evenly. "A man can never have too many." "I am a fighting man. I am rarely at Moonlight Castle now." "Perhaps there is something else you need."
Sesshomaru glanced at Kagome. Her soft lips parted, her skin pale in her deathlike slumber, her long lashes resting like a feather against her cheek. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts for a moment. It was ironic how so many fought for her death, and he, her most hated enemy, was the only one who fought for her life. He pushed the image of this glorious woman from his mind and conjured images of Rin.
When he looked back at Tashio, his eyes were hard. "I ask that you spare her life, my lord." Tashio stood. "Damn it, man! I cannot do that. While she does not look like my enemy, she is. Nothing can change that," Tashio said, and headed for the tent flap. "My decision is made." Sesshomaru rose in panic. "My liege, she killed my daughter!"
Tashio froze in mid-step as if Sesshomaru's words had penetrated his skin like a chill breeze. Slowly, he turned. When he faced Sesshomaru, his eyes were carefully blank. "I ask that you spare her life so that I can inflict on her the pain she has put me through." "I should not allow this, Sesshomaru. Harm could befall you, your castle, or even me because of her treachery." Tashio sighed heavily as if the conclusion was apparent. "But since you have been so faithful, I will allow it."
Sesshomaru rose from his chair as his heart soared. "You shall not be sorry, sire." Tashio scowled. "The gleam in your eye does not befit a man who speaks of torture and pain." Sesshomaru looked away. Tashio stepped closer to Sesshomaru, having to raise his face to speak to him. "Do not take my boon as kindness. If, through any action of hers, my subjects come to harm, I will hold you personally responsible. You, not she, will answer to my punishment." Sesshomaru bowed, acceptingly. "Yes, my lord." Tashio nodded and moved to the flap. Before he exited, he paused to glance back at Sesshomaru. "You are a stubborn man, Sesshomaru," he said. "Beware. You have death in your camp."
Wow it has been a while since I updated. House repairs take so long So I put up a few chapters for you all to enjoy. I won't be updating for a week or so. Got to finish the house repairs first. And that means the computer will be packed up safe and sound and internet will be down until we are finished. Leave a review in the box. They feed my inner muse and keep her writing.