Get ready for chapter three of our free read Song of Marwey by Robin D. Owens, prequel story her series The Summoning series for Luna books — continuing this month with Echoes in the Dark.
In this installment, Marwey seeks out the Castle Soldier she has fallen for, armed with gifts and good intentions. But she is shocked and terrified when she finds him fighting for his life! Find out what happens in Chapter Three!
Song of Marwey by Robin D. Owens, Chapter 3
During the next few days, great-aunt Thealia kept Marwey busy, learning her duties as a companion to a Marshall and working with other staffs. She enjoyed the work, the excitement humming through the Castle, far from the boredom of her parents’ wealthy home.
People saw her, Marwey Famil, instead of the fifth Famil daughter of minor nobility. They respected her skills. She knew she could have achieved her old goal of being the Castle Chief of Staff.
But fate had intervened with a sudden, incredible bond with the Soldier, Pascal. Instead, Marwey now contemplated joining him as a Chevalier, then as a warrior Marshall — who fought in Pairs.
Her nights were haunted by dreams of his body next to hers in the warm dark, his sword-roughened hands moving over her, every touch delicious, every caress binding them together in pleasure, in passion, in Pairing. She awoke aching and only hoped that he felt the same.
It didn’t matter that Pascal thought they were too different in status, lifestyles and goals. She knew she could become a fighter, too.
Finally, she arranged a free morning and went to find him. Previously, she’d discovered some old, good-quality uniforms and had altered them for him. She easily followed his soul tune through the Castle courtyards to a disused corridor and room.
There was no doorharp, so she knocked and waited. Nothing. But then she heard shouts, thuds from inside. She pressed the door latch and ran in, dropping the stack of clothes.
Pascal was fighting for his life! She choked on terror as three monsters attacked him — a render, a slayer and a soul-sucker. The huge black-furred render dropped from the ceiling, slavering, wicked claws raking. The yellow slayer bounded forward, spines on its head and back raised, ready to shoot Pascal. The soul-sucker whipped out four suckered tentacles.
Pascal’s swords flashed — he killed the render, danced away from the soul-sucker, loosed an offensive spell that flung the slayer headfirst into a wall. The energy shoved Marwey against the doorjamb. She fumbled for the dagger she wore but used only for household tasks and threw it. It clattered to the floor.
He pivoted with raised swords, then whispered. “Stop.” The training spells ended, the monsters turned into leather dummies painted to appear like the horrors invading Lladrana.
Marwey gulped ragged breaths. She’d never seen the monsters in anything but lorebooks. Her mouth dried as she realized this practice could become all too real on a battlefield, and would be what she faced, too, if she Paired with Pascal. Fear and love ripped at her.
He looked down at her fallen dagger. His mouth twitched. “Nice try.” He sheathed his swords.
She stared at him as he stood, chest bare and sweaty, a small silver medallion around his neck. If she valued her heart, she’d leave. She stepped toward him.
“What are you doing here?” He seemed embarrassed. The triangular room held little resemblance to the fighting salles she knew. The wooden floor, though scarred, was well kept, the walls were stained and faded, the windows grimy.
Unable to take her eyes off his body, she moved back toward the doorway and picked up the clothes.
“What are those?” he asked.
Words failed her. All she could see was the wiry strength of him; all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; all she could smell was his vitality and the after tang of magical Power.
He reached for the clothes and her hands twisted, fingers claiming his. The whole world stopped. The tune that had spun between them from their first meeting rushed into a string of notes, poured into a full melody.
“I want you,” she said.
Pascal’s gaze slid to the apex of the room and an old feather mattress. He fisted his hands, reddened. “I practice here to learn more quickly, and so my mistakes aren’t seen by all. I rest here, as well. I like the privacy.”
He was trying to distract them both.
“Why do we talk?” she whispered, throbbing with the need to feel him.
“You are not a woman for a fast tumble in the hay,” his voice rasped. “Niece to a Marshall Pair, the highest of the high.”
She scowled, stepped toward him. “You’re of noble blood, too.”
“Very minor, very poor. My sponsor, Luthan Vauxveau, is a man of sterling honor, and he would not approve of me using you for sexual release.”
Narrowing her eyes, she said. “You know there’s much more between us than just sex. We have a Song linking us. Sudden, but beautiful. Admit that, at least.”
He looked away from her, down at the clothes. “This Song between us is too potent to treat casually, you are right.”
She let out a breath. At least talking was a start.
Pascal pointed to the clothes she’d brought. “What are those?” he asked again.
“Every Castle has storerooms. I found these and think they’re your size. They’re out-of-date, but sturdy.”
“I don’t need clothes,” he said stiffly. “Mine will do fine.”
“The cloak is triple-lined,” she said. He’d take the clothes, she was sure, but when he made no move she thought perhaps she could please him with her other news. “I’ve used my mind-merge Power to speak to the winged horse assigned to you. The volaran knew you were new to flying, but he will try and link with you in the future. If you can form a connection, you will learn how to fly and maneuver in battle all the faster.”
“You spoke to the volaran?” he asked.
“His name is Mountain Wind. You want to be in the next class of Chevaliers, don’t you? I thought this would help.” The faster he achieved his goal, the sooner he’d consider a real relationship.
He reached out to get a better look at the clothes she held. Their fingers brushed, linked as they straightened. She felt his desire, his determination to treat her with honor. The love that caused both.
Her pulse beat fast with desire, with surrender. His mind brushed hers. His memories infused her with images of his childhood, struggling to help his father keep his family fed and clothed. The silver medallion Pascal wore was their one treasure, kept in case of an emergency.
A golden Marshall’s baton symbolized his determination to reach that goal. Then she saw herself, beautiful and gentle and noble.
She fell into his arms. His mouth was on hers, and she opened to him, pulling his taste into her. She pressed against him, savoring the heat, the tightening of her nipples, the readying of her body.
The alarm siren shrieked. All the bells of the Castle rang. Pascal was away from her and pulling on his shirt before Marwey understood what was happening.
He tucked his shirt into his trousers, face all serious angles. “An influx of horrors must have invaded. The Chevaliers and Marshalls fly to fight. I’ll be needed to guard.” He reached for his old cloak, hesitated. It was ill made. The one she’d brought him was longer, warmer.
“My younger sister made my cloak,” Pascal said.
“Take the cloak and keep the one your sister made, for sentiment.”
He frowned, but drew on the new cloak, took the other. He looked at Marwey. “Pretty Marwey, so competent in homemaking. How can you think you’d be a good fighter?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I can match you.”
“This shouldn’t happen again,” he said roughly.
“It will. The Song between us is too strong.”
He grunted, acknowledging but still unwilling to accept. “I’ve felt nothing like it.” He opened the door and the alarm pulsed louder. “Someday I’ll fly to fight monsters. Think hard if you want to do the same.” Volaran harness rang. “The Marshalls depart. Your great-aunt is gone. She’ll want to return to the comfort you’ll make in her suite.”
Her heart squeezed fearfully. Thealia had left and might not come back. The knowledge that her aunt battled against the horrors had been in her head, but this was all too solid reality. Marwey dressed with trembling hands.
Pascal was only a Castle Soldier, but by the summer he could be a Chevalier, summoned by the alarm to fight — perhaps to die. Did she have the courage to watch him leave? Did she have the fortitude to Pair with him and join him in the battles? They could be great.
Marwey had never wanted greatness, only a comfortable life.
If they lived that long.
Copyright © 2005 Harlequin Books S.A.
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So what do you think of the story so far? Do you think Pascal will ever be able to overlook the differences between him and Marwey? Or will their classes always impede their relationship?
~Amy
I LOVE this story so far! I hope they find a way to be together soon!
After reading this, I can’t wait to receive my copy!
Thank you so much!