The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus Read online

  Racing back up to her room, she changed clothes quickly, donning clothing that would permit her to mount and ride a horse with ease, and yet remain unremarkable to anyone she happened upon before making it off the estate. She would avoid the front gate, since the guards there would certainly note and remark upon her unusual nighttime departure. The evasion would slow her down, but she could take the trail that wound behind the barn and over to the cattle pens, from where she could reach the main road, which was well-maintained at this time of year.

  And from there, she would make speed directly to Nico’s and hopefully arrive before dawn. After that . . . she didn’t know what she’d do after that. It would depend on what he made of Sotiris’s pronouncement, but one way or another, she would have to return to her tower. Because the hexagon was there, and she dared not take it with her. Not yet. Not with Sotiris so close. He would detect the device’s absence, and immediately begin searching for it. And for her. When the time was finally right for her to turn the hexagon over to Nico—and she had no doubt that time would come—she would have to leave this place forever. Sotiris would never forgive her when he discovered what she’d done.

  NICO WAS SLEEPING when the knock came on his door. His sleep hadn’t been restful or sufficient, but he had finally collapsed into his bed, fully dressed, and too exhausted to think, much less undress. He’d managed to kick off his boots, but nothing else.

  So when the pounding started, he was inclined to ignore it. Nothing could be so important that it demanded his attention with the sky still dark outside his window. When the pounding not only didn’t stop, but intensified, and was accompanied by soft but frantic calls from his manservant, Seneca, he first cursed viciously, but then called out for his man to enter.

  “Forgive the intrusion, my lord. I would not have done so, if it were not imperative.”

  Nico sat up and blinked blearily at the man for three full heartbeats, before the urgency of his words penetrated. His battle-trained mind cleared in an instant, and he began pulling on his boots. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s the lady, my lord. Lady Antonia.”

  Nico’s head snapped up. “Antonia? Is she injured? Where is she?”

  “She is not injured, my lord. But she’s here, in the kitchen.”

  He stood and walked to the door, running impatient fingers through his unbound hair. “What the hell is she doing in the kitchen? Never mind,” he added, realizing that her current location wasn’t the critical question. Rather he should be asking why she was here at all, and in the middle of the night. Assuming Seneca would have no answer to that, since whatever had brought her here had to be both important and secret, he took the stairs two at a time and headed for the kitchen, thinking it wasn’t a bad place for a secretive meeting. Antonia would attract far less notice there, especially if she’d had the sense to dress the part of a kitchen maid.

  When he made it downstairs, he strode the length of the huge dining hall and shoved his way through the thick wooden door into the still-warm kitchen. He spotted her immediately, despite the boys’ clothes she must have borrowed from a stable hand. Going to her side, he drew her into his arms, not caring who saw. “Are you well? Are you hurt?”

  She leaned into his chest for a moment, before pulling back to look up at him. “I’m fine, but I have news you need to hear.” She glanced at Seneca, who was the only person in the room and currently preparing a pot of hot tea. “You may choose to tell whomever you wish,” she told Nico quietly. “But you need to hear what I have to say in private.”

  “Of course.” He raised his voice slightly and said, “The tea is most welcome, Seneca. Thank you. If you would wait in the dining hall, we can serve ourselves. I’d rather hear what the lady has to say, before it passes to other ears.”

  Seneca walked over to the table and set down a tray holding two cups, the teapot, and the usual accompaniments, then gave a slight bow and left the room.

  “He won’t be offended?” Antonia asked, watching him leave.

  “Not at all. He’s been with me long enough to understand that some things are better left unknown. If he needs the information, he knows I’ll tell him.”

  “A good man, then. A trustworthy servant.”

  “He’s that and more. Sit, love, and tell me why you’re here.” He pulled out a chair for her, then sat next to her and watched, with fading patience, as she poured the tea, then took an immediate sip from her cup without cooling it with the provided cream.

  “Antonia.”

  She looked up and met his gaze.

  “You’ve news for me that was important enough to bring you here in the middle of the night, at no small risk to yourself. Talk to me, my love.”

  She took a last sip, then cupped the tea in both hands as if needing the heat, despite the warm room and the huge banked oven behind her. “I worked all day on the—” She glanced around, then gave him a meaningful look and said, “The rock.”

  He nodded, understanding she referred to the stone device she’d called “the hexagon.”

  “The work got hold of me and it was late before I realized the time. I knew Sotiris would expect me for dinner, and was just leaving my room when he visited me instead.”

  Nico’s gut tightened at the image his mind conjured of that visit, but he said nothing, figuring she’d impart the news that had brought her to him so late, if he let her tell the story her own way.

  “He hadn’t shared many details of his journey before he left, and so I was surprised when he offered what he clearly believed to be good news about the trip’s success. He said he was moving up the timetable for declaring war, because he’d designed a spell that would—and these are his words—‘deprive that bastard of his best weapon in the first moments of battle, before the horns have even finished blowing.’ He declared it would result in his swift and conclusive victory.

  “I wracked my mind for most of today—constantly pulling my attention from the rock’s design—trying to determine what kind of weapon he could mean, but came up with nothing. And then, it struck me that you would understand what he meant, and that you needed to know what he planned.”

  Nico lifted the hand she’d placed on the table and held it while he considered what she’d said. His greatest weapon? He had many advantages over Sotiris, not least being the level of his raw power, which was greater than the other sorcerer’s. And yet, after all these years, they were still locked in battle, simply because Sotiris was older, trickier, and far more ruthless—willing to sacrifice the lives of his fighters for minimal gain, or to protect his own skin.

  Nico contemplated his many spells and magical devices, attempting to rank them in terms of their past success, trying to view them as Sotiris might. But though he sat in silent thought for some minutes, he couldn’t identify any one that he would consider his greatest weapon. Was the other sorcerer being apocryphal? Did he suspect Antonia’s loyalty and was trying to draw her out?

  He shook his head, dismissing both possibilities. Sotiris was not a fanciful or even subtle man. If he had something to say, he’d use the bluntest words possible. As for suspecting Antonia of duplicity, she’d said before that he’d kill her if he knew she was contemplating turning the hexagon against him, and Nico believed her. And if Sotiris thought she was sharing information with him, he wouldn’t take even a few minutes to ascertain the truth of it. He’d kill her at once.

  All the same, if Sotiris thought Nico possessed a “greatest weapon,” then he needed to figure out what it was before the bastard had a chance to cast whatever spell he’d conjured up.

  “Do you know what he refers to?” Antonia asked.

  Nico shook his head. “No. Let me give it some thought, though. But first, you cannot ride back to Sotiris’s estate on your own. It was dangerous enough that you came here tonight. If you tried to return now, dawn would be breaking, and you would
be seen.”

  She smiled slightly. “You give me too little credit, Lord Nicodemus. I thought to arrive with Master Petros this morning.”

  He scowled. “How would we explain that? It would hardly be proper for you to have met him outside the gates, and at such an hour?”

  She tsked. “I assumed that you would cast a seeming on me, as well as yourself. And then once in the barn, I could resume my true identity and enter the castle through the kitchen. Few would see me, and those who did would think nothing of it, especially if I were bearing a basket of fresh eggs.”

  “Would I be conjuring those as well?” he asked dryly.

  She smiled. “I’m not certain I’d trust any eggs you conjured. I expected to borrow some from your hens.”

  “Cook will be unhappy, but I’ll tell her I needed them for a spell. It won’t be the first time, much to her dismay.”

  Antonia gave a quickly muffled laugh, and the sound did something sharp, almost painful, to Nico’s chest, even as it made him smile. He stood and held out a hand. “Come, my lady. You can’t wait here until we leave. I’ll take you to my rooms.”

  She took his hand and whispered. “We’ll cause a scandal.”

  He squeezed her delicate fingers carefully and leaned down to murmur against her ear, “Not if no one sees us.”

  Chapter Six

  THE SUN WAS barely risen when Petros Vasilis and his “young assistant” were allowed through the gate to Sotiris’s estate. Antonia had been nervous since she could see her true self perfectly well, no matter how many times Nico assured her that the magical seeming which provided their camouflage only worked on others’ eyes, not her own. It wasn’t until they’d successfully navigated the gate and Master Yor, outside the barn, that she’d become a believer and tried to take Nico’s advice to relax and enjoy their subterfuge.

  “I did tell you no one would think anything amiss,” Nico said, when they’d bid Yor a fair day and were leading the two horses into the barn.

  “Easy for you to say,” Antonia reminded him. “I’m the one who would have been hanging from a rope.”

  “I would never have permitted that to happen. You should know that about me, if nothing else.”

  “You’re using logic on an illogical situation.”

  “It wasn’t the situation that was illogical, my lady.”

  She tsked loudly. “You’re supposed to agree with me, and attempt to soothe my anxieties.”

  “Oh, well. You probably should have told me that earlier.” He tied each of the horses outside a different stall and went first to the padded container in his saddle bag, where they’d stowed the eggs that Antonia was going to “collect” and take to the kitchen. Only two of the carefully wrapped eggs were broken, which left more than enough for their subterfuge. Glancing around, however, he saw no suitable basket and so conjured one out of thin air. Or so it seemed. What he’d really done was to fetch the basket from the kitchen counter where it began every day filled with fresh eggs.

  Transferring the eggs to the basket, he gave a slight bow and turned the whole thing over to Antonia. She smiled prettily in return, before her eyes went big and serious.

  “Will you be able to ride with me later?” she asked.

  “Is it safe for you to do so? Sotiris won’t object if you spend time away from the tower?”

  She waved a dismissive hand and said, “He doesn’t approve of my preference for riding out into the countryside, but since he knows that it clears my thoughts when I’ve hit a logjam in my work, he doesn’t object . . . as long as I’m back in the workroom in short order.”

  “Then we’ll ride, and if it’s easier for you, I’ll conceal your identity as we go through the gates.”

  Her smile had his chest swelling with a feeling he’d never experienced before. It felt like happiness, but he’d been happy before. Gods, he’d celebrated many victories with his warriors with uncontrolled joy. This was something else. Something he’d have to think on later, when he wasn’t blinded by the sense of wholesome joy that seemed to surround her in a way that shared itself with him when he was close.

  That sense, and others less wholesome, made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her, to feel her body soften against his while her arms went round his neck. And when he met her gaze, he saw the same desire there. He took a deliberate step back and stiffened his posture into that of a horse master speaking with respect to a lady of the estate. “I am yours to command, my lady, and available at your convenience.”

  Her smile took on a teasing edge when she said, “Well said, Master Petros. I will return before noon.” She glanced quickly over her shoulder, and seeing they were alone, she blew him a kiss before turning to hurry across the yard and into the kitchen with her basket of eggs.

  THE SUN WAS already sliding into a cool afternoon when Antonia finally showed up at the stables. Nico had grown more anxious with every moment that passed, worried that Sotiris had discovered she’d snuck out the previous night, and with whom, or even worse, that he’d somehow learned of her intention to turn over the hexagon to Nico before the upcoming battle. He was ready to adopt the seeming of a random manservant and go looking for her, when she hurried into the stables and stopped, letting her eyes adjust to the light as she searched for him.

  When he stepped out of the stall where he’d been checking on one of the horses, her entire countenance relaxed and she hurried toward him. Relief warring with pleasure, he met her halfway and took her in his arms. He knew there was no one else in the barn, no one to see their forbidden embrace, but even if that hadn’t been true, he would have hugged her. He’d needed to touch and be touched by her, needed the caress of her loving and generous aura like he needed his next breath. The strength of his hunger for her, the power of it, was a shock to him. He’d known and greatly enjoyed many women, but had never regretted leaving any of them, much less feeling as if some vital part of him was missing when they were away for a morning. The realization of his need for Antonia shocked him, because he knew what it meant, knew what he was feeling, even though he’d never felt it before. And what he’d seen in her eyes both earlier and in that moment, told him she felt the same.

  His heart ached with joy in the knowledge, even as despair threatened. Of all the people in this world, or any other, there could not have been a more complicated or dangerous woman for him to fall in love with. And the danger was even greater for Antonia than for him. He could defend himself against Sotiris—he’d done so more times than he could count. But Antonia . . . she had power, but nowhere near the level she would need to protect herself against the other sorcerer. The bastard might even regret what he’d done eventually, but Antonia would already be grievously injured, or dead.

  But how could Nico protect her? Even if he lived day and night in these stables, she shared a home with the evil bastard in his fucking tower. If Antonia was in danger, Nico might sense her fear in time to race inside, but it would take no more than an instant for Sotiris to lash out and kill her, whether intended or not.

  Tightening his arms around her, he knew she’d have to come home with him permanently, instead. He could protect her in his own tower, his own castle. He had spells upon spells of protection around his estate. But how to convince Antonia of the necessity? He knew instinctively that she would resist leaving Sotiris until the hexagon was not only complete, but primed with the bastard’s blood, so that it would target only him. If not for that last, she might have completed her work in Nico’s tower, instead. But he understood why she wouldn’t want that, either. Magic wasn’t a matter of wishing something to be so, and having it happen. Something as complex as the hexagon would have taken her months of research, followed by more months of testing, failing, and refining the magic that went into the damn thing. He wondered absently if it had been properly tested, and if Sotiris had volunteered his blood for those tests. Or had
she tested it on herself? The idea of Antonia making herself that vulnerable, and with Sotiris so very close, sent a chill racing up his spine.

  “I’ll saddle the horses,” he said gruffly. He needed to get her out of this place, needed to touch her without worry, to kiss her until her lips were swollen, and her cheeks flushed with desire.

  “I can help,” she offered immediately, but he stopped her.

  “It would not be proper, my lady.”

  “Oh please, my mother taught me how to saddle a horse before I could ride one.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, but this is not your lady mother’s estate. And here, a lady does not endanger her delicate fingers by saddling her own horse.”

  She rolled her eyes, but then sat on a hay bale out of the sunlight and, with a prissy fluff of her skirts, said only, “Well, get after it, then, Master Petros. I don’t have all afternoon to wait.”

  Nico gave her a look that said she’d pay for that later, but since he wanted nothing more than to get her alone, he moved immediately to saddle their horses.

  ANTONIA RODE NEXT to Nico, her cheeks flushed hot with the wind of their passage across thick grasslands she’d never known were there. It was nearing the time the grass would wither and die for winter, but the fall rains had been heavy this year and the slender stalks were still green and bending to the afternoon breeze as they followed a dirt path through the fields. She was amazed to have lived so close to this place for so many years, and not known it existed. The knowledge brought home to her as never before how restricted her life had become since she’d come to live with Sotiris when she’d come of age—the polite way of saying she’d begun her menses and was therefore considered a young woman and no longer a child.