The King's Executioner Read online

  Anin shook her head. “I do not believe so. It is known since the Unification Ceremony that anyone who dared to harm the King’s executioner would suffer for it. No one objected since you do deeds no one else wishes to do. So why would the Drust break the King’s edict?”

  “There are those who continue to object to the uniting of the tribes and will continue to cause trouble.”

  Anin finished the last of the fish and brushed her hands of the small specks left. She did not voice her thoughts, for he would not receive them well. She could not stop from wondering if it was not the uniting of the tribes the Drust objected to, but King Talon.

  Paine sent Bog to follow Anin when she went to see to her care. She was not long and went straight to the stream when she returned to wash her face and hands. The meal looked to have revived her strength. He only hoped their journey this day would not be as grueling or as challenging as yesterday, though the pace would remain strong. He wanted to get her safely to the King as fast as possible.

  Anin followed behind Paine, and Bog trailed behind her just as they had done yesterday. Though, now and again, he would disappear only to return and take up his post behind her. She was glad she heard no howl when he was gone, for she realized his howl warned Paine of impending danger.

  By mid-day they reached open land that stretched as far as one could see. The hilly, desolate area could leave them vulnerable, though it would also be more difficult for anyone to follow them without being seen.

  Anin was overjoyed when Paine slowed the pace and it took her a moment to gather the courage to walk alongside him. The size of him alone intimidated, not to mention the double-sided battle axe that was his constant companion. And though he, by no means, wore out his tongue, she was tired of the silence and hoped to share at least a few words with him.

  “Why did the King send you to collect me and not more warriors?” she asked as they walked.

  Paine had wondered the same himself? Why had the King not sent a contingent of warriors along with him to make certain his future wife was delivered safely to him? His task should have been complete upon finding out Anin’s whereabouts. After that, the King’s personal guards should have escorted her to Pictland.

  “You appear to wonder the same yourself,” she said.

  How could she be so observant when he had not changed his expression? He never allowed anything to show on his face. He had been that way for years and would continue to remain so for years to come. “It is not your concern.”

  “I am not concerned; I but wonder.”

  “Then do not wonder and do not question the King.” Paine increased the pace, moving several steps ahead of her.

  “I am not questioning the King,” she said, rushing to catch up to him. Her foot caught on something and she flew forward before she could stop herself. Instinctively, she called out to him in alarm. “Paine!”

  He turned, his arm snaking around her waist, and caught her just before she hit the ground. He bent over her as he eased her up. He was about to ask if she was injured, but the words never reached his lips. They locked in his throat as he felt his middle tighten.

  Anin grabbed onto his arm as soon as his other arm went around her and that’s when she felt it... the punch to his stomach, the soar of his heart, and the thought that he wanted to kiss her. What made it worse and confused her all the more was that she would not mind if he did.

  She wisely and quickly let her hand fall off him. Whatever was the matter with her? He was the King’s executioner and she was to wed the King. Nothing could ever be between them, for the King would make them both suffer terribly for it. And she did not want anything to do with the executioner. His life was nothing but suffering and death.

  Paine hastily set her steady on her feet, and snapped, “Stop talking and watch where you walk.” He turned and stalked off annoyed with the feelings she had released in him. He wanted none of it. He would not have it. She was the King’s intended and he would never dishonor the King.

  He hurried his steps, wanting to be done with this task as quickly as possible and wanting to keep as far away from Anin as possible. As soon as he delivered her to the King, he intended to find himself a willing woman to rid himself of this persisting need and be done with that as well.

  The land was rough, rocks and stones marring a good portion of it, making travel difficult. He heard Anin stumble and let out a gasp now and again, but she did not call out to him and he did not glance back at her. Though, it did disturb him that she struggled so and that he should care, annoyed him all the more.

  Finally, he could take it no more and he stopped abruptly and turned. “Can you not walk without faltering?”

  “Can you not slow your pace some? You walk as if you wish to be rid of me. If for some reason I offend you then please return me to my father and he will gladly see me delivered safely to the King.”

  “Hold on to that strength you showed your mother’s sisters, and now show me, and this journey will go quicker for us both.”

  Strength. He saw strength in her, not many did, and she smiled. “It is my feet that lack strength today, being jabbed much too often by stones.”

  He wished she would not smile. She was much too beautiful when she smiled. Annoyed at his thought, he responded gruffly, “Watch where you walk and avoid the larger stones.”

  Her soft laughter drifted along the chilled air and wrapped around him like a warm blanket and once again his body stirred.

  “My efforts to avoid them have been pitiful while the stones themselves have been victorious.”

  The one side of his mouth turned up slightly of its own accord, shocking him. Had a smile tried to surface? He had not smiled since—he could not remember when. Yet, her humorous remark coupled with her gentle laughter had touched something inside him that had him responding without giving thought to it.

  His annoyance at himself grew and he tempered his tone. “I will go more slowly, though I want to make certain we reach woodland before darkness falls.” He turned and walked off, leaving Anin to follow.

  She did, her steps more cautious, though it did not seem to matter. The stones continued to prick at her already sore feet. But she would not complain. He was right. They needed to reach the forest before darkness settled over the land. They would be safer there or would they?

  Chapter Five

  Anin sat on the ground, Bog her only companion, too tired to move. Paine had gone off to hunt for supper as soon as they had found a spot to stop for the night after walking a good distance into the forest. While she was hungry, she was more tired and her feet ached terribly. She did not want to move. All she wanted was to stretch out on the ground and sleep, but her feet needed tending and her stomach needed filling.

  She reached down and carefully slipped her shoe off and winced as she did.

  Bog turned his head, staring at her, his orange eyes intimidating.

  “There is nothing wrong, except that my feet hurt,” she said and held her foot up to show him.

  The wolf seemed mollified and turned around to sit not far from her.

  She winced again when she took a look at the bottom of her foot. Skin had worn off in spots and there was some bleeding. She feared looking at her other foot, for it pained her more than this one. They needed to heal and there was no time to let them. She would have to do what she could.

  She wondered if a stream ran nearby. Cool water and some mud would help with the pain.

  Bog stood suddenly and took off just as suddenly.

  Fear froze her. Had Bog sensed someone near? An animal perhaps? She did not know which was worse the Drust or a wild animal. Whichever it was, it would be wiser for her to be on her feet. She winced again when she finally got to her feet. The pain seemed worse, but then she had seen how badly her feet had suffered, so how could they not feel worse?

  With a hand on the dagger at her waist, she listened for a sound that someone approached. She wished she had her mother’s skill with a weapon, but no matter h
ow much she had practiced, skill eluded her. Weapons were never as comfortable in her hands as they were in her mother’s. She felt uneasy holding a weapon, any weapon, and oddly enough she always felt that the weapon felt just as uncomfortable in her hand.

  A scream echoed through the forest. Bog had gotten someone. She almost sighed with relief until she heard a noise that had her turning her head. A Drust warrior burst out from behind a bush and ran toward her with a spear held high. A sudden thought had her scooping a good size rock off the ground and throwing it at him. It knocked the spear from his hand, but did not stop him from charging at her.

  Anin drew her dagger from its sheath and stood ready to fight. She begged the forest spirits for help and in the next moment the impact of his body against hers sent her flying through the air. He was on top of her as soon as she hit the ground. He tried to snatch the dagger from her hand and she fought back with as much strength as she could. It wasn’t enough.

  He quickly gripped her wrist and was turning the dagger point down toward her chest. She circled her free hand tightly around his wrist and used all her strength to keep the dagger from plunging into her chest.

  She felt it then—hatred. It poured out of him onto her. She gasped for breath, the intensity of it suffocating her. Dead. He wanted her dead.

  He suddenly stopped fighting with her and stared at her as if too shocked to do anything. She felt his hatred turn to such fear that she shivered. He released her suddenly, stood, and stumbled back away from her, his eyes wider than the fullest moon.

  He opened his mouth to speak when he was abruptly yanked from behind and tossed away from her. She watched with horror as the executioner’s battle axe came down upon the startled warrior’s neck.

  Anin turned her head away as she sat up only to see Bog standing beside her blood marring the fur around his mouth. She pressed her hand to her roiling stomach as she closed her eyes.

  “Where is your courage?”

  Anin eyes flew open and she turned to face Paine staring down at her, the battle axe in his hand dripping blood. She shut her eyes again at the sight of it. It could not be the blood that disturbed her, for on occasion she had helped the healer of the tribe. Never, though, had she helped with the wounded warriors. Her mother had forbid it.

  “Anin!”

  Her eyes shot open and she looked at Paine. A scowl darkened his fine features and she almost backed away from him. “I did the best I could.”

  “Your best is seeing victory, anything else will not do. How many times must I remind you that you will need strength to deal with the King?”

  “As often as I remind you that I can be no more than who I already am. We should leave, more Drust may follow.” She winced, a pain shooting through her one foot as she moved to stand.

  “Stay as you are!” Paine ordered and dropped down on his haunches, laying his battle axe on the ground beside him. His glance went to her feet and he grabbed one ankle, raising her foot. His eyes narrowed. “This is foolishness. You should have told me your feet pained you.”

  She stared at him, confused by his sincere touch. After all, she was the King’s intended. She was even more confused by how gently he held her ankle. His touch seemed almost caring, his large hand warm and comforting and yet his eyes showed annoyance. “Would you have stopped?”

  “I would have decided that after looking at your feet.” He slowly released her ankle, his fingers lingering along her soft skin even after placing her foot on the ground. When he realized what he was doing, he let his hand fall away. “Your feet need tending.” He stood and turned away from her.

  “Is there a stream or loch nearby? The cool water and packing my feet in mud should help.”

  “Some,” he said, turning back around, “but I do not see how you will be able to walk on them tomorrow.”

  “I must, for we need to keep our distance from the Drust,” she said, recalling what she had felt when she touched the warrior. She had not known such deep hatred could exist. She thought of telling Paine about it, but she worried that he would think her foolish or perhaps grow as angry at her as her mother had once done. For now, it would be her secret, though secrets came with a heavy burden and she did not know how long she would be able to carry it.

  “No more Drust will come—yet—if at all,” he said. “They were either a rogue group of warriors disenchanted with the Unification of the Tribes or a group sent on a mission. Once the warriors do not return, it will be known that the mission failed and another troop dispersed and that will take time. By then we will be on Pictland land and word will be sent to the King and no doubt he will dispatch his personal guards to escort us the remainder of the way.”

  And her time with the executioner would be done. A shiver ran through her, though she did not know why.

  She went to stand.

  “Did I not tell you to stay as you are?” he snapped. “You do not listen well, a fault you need to correct.”

  “I am sure by the time you present me to the King, you will have helped me to correct it,” she said with a pleasant smile.

  He leaned down, bringing his face so close to hers that their noses almost touched. “For your sake I hope that is so.”

  She yelped when he scooped her up in his arms and she warned herself not to touch him. She had no choice when he bent down to grab his battle axe. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hand landing against his warm skin.

  The feeling rushed over her before she could drop her hand away. She felt the thump of his heart grow ever stronger and felt warmth spreading throughout him, growing more heated with each step he took. The darkness that she had first felt in him was still there, but it was not as profound as before and she thought it odd that she actually felt safe with him. Though, she could not forget that no matter what, he was still the King’s executioner.

  She was surprised to see Bog walking beside them with her shoe in his mouth. Never would she have thought that a wolf could be tamed. Wolves were wild, free creatures and traveled in packs. Was Paine Bog’s pack?

  He once again left her on her own when he placed her at the water’s edge, a wise choice he told himself, since he had been familiar enough with her for one day.

  “I need to hunt so we may eat,” Paine said, stepping away from her. Bog will protect you as he did the last time, and I will be close by.”

  Fear stirred in her, but she dared not show it. He had warned her too often about remaining strong as did so many others and she was tired of hearing it. Though, perhaps it was the truth she was tired of hearing.

  She gave him a nod and turned, tugging at her shift to pull it up far enough so that the hem would not get wet as she slipped her feet into the rushing water. She shivered from the chill and the sting, then sighed with relief.

  She jumped when Paine suddenly crouched down beside her. “I will let nothing happen to you.”

  One look in his blue eyes made her realize he would do anything to keep her safe. The thought touched something inside her, and she had an overwhelming urge to reach out and lay her hand on him. She gripped the folds of her tunic to keep from doing so and could not stop the shiver that ran through her.

  He yanked his tightly rolled up cloak that he had secured over his shoulder and back with leather ties and unwrapped it to drape across her shoulders. “It will not bode well for me if I deliver you to the King ill.” He stood and walked off.

  She stared after him. He confused her. One moment he seemed to care and the next... she turned away. It was not for her to think upon. Why then could she not chase him from her thoughts?

  A chill ran through her, her feet having been in the cold water long enough. She quickly packed mud around the bottoms and sides of both feet. She would leave it on until the morrow, hoping it would help heal her wounds enough for her to walk without great pain.

  She was pleased to see that Bog had drank from the stream and the water had washed the blood away from his mouth. He once again positioned himself in front of her, his
ears and eyes alert. She wished to do her share in helping to protect them on their journey, and so as was her way, she asked the forest spirits for their protection and help and gave her gratitude in return.

  Her eyes were growing heavy by the time Paine returned with a rabbit, cleaned and on a stick, ready to cook. He was quick to start a fire and set the meat to cooking. As tired as she was, she was much hungrier and had no intentions of falling asleep and missing the meal. She had to keep herself awake and the only way she could do that was to talk.

  She went to speak and lost her voice. Paine had raised his head and her eyes had caught with his bold green ones and her stomach fluttered. She held his gaze or was it that he had captured hers. All she knew was that she could not look away and she did not want to look away. There was something there in his eyes, something that enticed, something she wanted to explore.

  He turned away sharply and she shook her head as if chasing off a daze that had settled over her. When her wits finally returned, she managed to speak to him without a problem, but then his eyes were no longer focused on her. A different question then she meant to ask came out of her mouth. “Why did you become an executioner?”

  He tilted his head to the side and gave a simple answer. “The King needed one.”

  “You would do anything the King asks of you?”

  “He is the King.”

  “So you obey regardless of what the command may be?”

  “It is not my place to agree or disagree,” he said. “You are to be Queen. You need to guard your words and stand by the King.”

  “I do have my own thoughts on things and—”

  “And it will be the King’s decision if he wishes to hear them or not.”

  The idea that she would not be able to share her thoughts with her husband disturbed her and had her asking, “And do you expect the same of your wife?”

  “I am not wed.” He turned his head away once again.

  “When you do wed will you expect the same of her?”

  His head snapped back around. “It matters not about what other men expect from their wives. It matters what the King expects from his Queen.”