Here’s Chapter four of our free online read, Song of Marwey! Marwey continues to cherish the Song that exists between them, while Pascal continues to be torn between his duties and his heart. As battles wage on in the north, what will become of the young couple?
Song of Marwey by Robin D. Owens, Chapter 4
None of the Marshalls or Chevaliers returned to the Castle that night from the battlefield. Worry about her great-aunt kept Marwey awake. Her family connection with Thealia wasn’t strong enough to know if the Swordmarshall lived or died, or if her Shieldmarshall husband survived. Finally, in the small hours of the morning, Marwey ran across the freezing courtyard to the Map Room. The dim light brightened when she walked in and she stared at the animated map. A horrible red blotch signified many deaths at the northern border where the magical boundary was failing.
A draft from the door opening behind her made her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. The intense emotional Song reverberating between them told Marwey it was Pascal, the Castle Soldier. The man she wanted.
“Marwey?” he asked softly. “I was on patrol and saw you leave the keep. You shouldn’t wander alone.”
She shrugged, gazing at the map. “Not one rowdy Chevalier’s here. They’re all north. My aunt says the horrors invade because Lladrana is fertile and beautiful.”
Pascal shrugged. “So everyone believes.”
Marwey’s voice choked as she pointed to the red stain. “The map shows banners of fallen Chevaliers, but I don’t see any Marshalls’ batons. Marshalls’ batons would be there, too, if my aunt or her husband had died, right?”
Pascal glanced at the map. His face tensed. When he spoke his voice was flat. “Yes, we lost three Chevalier Pairs and four singles and the fighting continues. Rare to have so many horrors invading and a night battle.”
He took her upper arm and she felt the connection with him even through their clothes, and his emotions – understanding, regret. “Come away, Marwey. They will be back tomorrow. Watching the map only makes you fret.”
So she let his body heat encompass her, and tried not to see an additional finger of black horrors move to the northern border, monsters ready to invade.
“I’ll walk you to your room. You’re so pretty and sheltered – I see even more that you weren’t made for this life.” His voice was quiet. He shook his head with the realization of what had to be done. “I’m going to be a Chevalier, so you’d best snip that thready tune between us.”
She sniffed, glad he had her arm, because tears blurred her vision as they crossed the courtyard and climbed the tower stairs. “It’s not a thready tune. It’s a full, interwoven Song.” But she shuddered at the thought of fighting. “I suppose you are right.”
“I can’t see you on a battlefield,” he repeated what he’d said in the stables. “Drown the melody between us with another, stronger Song.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“I’m not that strong.” He paused. “One last kiss, to remember,” he said. He pressed his body against hers. Heated yearning flooded her, making her ache for completion. She grasped his neck and pulled his lips down to yield to him, to the need for him that tightened her nipples, made her throb.
His tongue swept into her mouth, his taste exploding through her. She surrendered to passion, angled her body to set the center of herself against his hard length. Her breath released on a moan of pure desire.
Then he stepped back, face harsh. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m on duty and fighters are battling for our land. How you make me forget.” He opened the door to her room, then stepped back and closed the door between them.
Her body ached and her mind fretted through the night. She thought of her ambition to become the Castle Chief of Staff, her change of plans when she’d seen Pascal and heard his Song. Perhaps, he was right and she was wrong, blinded by lust, by wanting to believe in a special love.
Hours later, Thealia and her husband returned. They and their winged horses drooped with exhaustion. Marwey hugged her aunt and saw fearsome memories from Thealia’s mind — chunks of monsters’ flesh littering ichor-soaked ground. Worse — bloody bodies of Chevaliers, wounded, gasping and moaning. Dead eyes staring.
She ran to the washbasin and was sick.
That afternoon Thealia, sitting at her desk, said, “Some more Marshalls visited the oracle of the Singer and received the same news I did – we must Summon an exotique from another world who will discover how to mend the magical boundary.” She consulted a list. “Furthermore, we must schedule the next training class for Chevaliers sooner. We have twelve applicants, and six additional sponsored people. We need them trained and in the field as soon as possible.”
A shiver trembled through Marwey. She didn’t know how Thealia could send others to their deaths; think on how death had made the Chevalier ranks so thin.
She had to step back from Pascal, who’d enter the Chevalier class. No matter how wonderfully their Songs mixed, she could not face blood and death daily. So she slowed the flow of soul notes from her to Pascal to a trickle. When she received a throb of sadness back from him, she knew he understood they wouldn’t be together again.
There was one last thing she could do for him, however. He’d been patrolling the courtyards in the last frigid dregs of winter, so she asked Thealia’s husband if he could arrange a better duty for Pascal.
For the next three nights, fevered dreams tormented her as she delayed breaking their emotional bond completely. She should snap it soon, before it strengthened, she knew – for then the hurt could debilitate them both.
Was she, Marwey Famil, so cowardly that she’d deny a truly exceptional love because she was afraid of her fate with Pascal – or the pain of losing him? She yearned for him with more than her body – her heart, her Song wanted him to complement her.
If she stayed in the Castle, each time he went to battle her heart would wrench and she’d count the breaths until he returned. So even her previous ambition to become the Castle Chief of Staff was worthless.
She agonized through another alarm and fighting the next day and was waiting at the Landing Field for Thealia and her husband, who looked tired but satisfied. Pascal arrived at the Landing Field just as several Chevaliers on winged horses alit.
Luthan Vauxveau, Pascal’s sponsor, dismounted and walked to Pascal, throwing an arm around his shoulder, saying something. Bad news. A pulse of anguish throbbed through the thin link between Pascal and her. He’d lost a friend in battle. She wanted to go to him. Instead, she matched steps with Thealia, and saw him nod briefly to Luthan, then walk away, steps slow. Pascal’s hand touched his shirt, to the silver medallion he wore under it. He glanced at her and they held gazes for a long moment.
That evening she was on her way to the baths with Thealia, when she saw Pascal coming down the corridor. She sensed it was as planned as her meetings had been. His face was white with strain. As they passed, he murmured a greeting to Thealia. Then the lightest whisper came to her ears. “I need you.” Their fingers brushed and he passed her a note and continued walking. Marwey’s heart gave one hard thump. In the main bath, she unfolded the note.
You have not cut the bond between us. Can you accept me and my life? Can we love? I will wait in my practice room. I need you. Pascal.
He needed her. Everything within her clenched. Were any other words so powerful from a strong man? But he was determined to be a Chevalier, rise to become a Marshall – go to battle daily, if necessary.
She hadn’t thought she was such a physical coward, but it appeared so. He had a friend die. He needed her. She must decide.
“Marwey, the water is wonderful, are you coming in?” called Thealia.
Marwey looked up and froze as she saw the scars on the older woman’s body that spoke of agony. She looked down at her own unmarked body, cleared her throat. “No, I’ve enjoyed the steam. I’m tired, I think I’ll retire.”
Thealia’s face softened. “You’ve been an excellent companion, providing a comfortable home for me and my husband. Thank you.”
Marwey nodded, but felt false to the core. Thealia and the other Marshalls defended their land from the invading monsters. They were the ones doing the most valuable work.
And if Marwey truly thought so, couldn’t she fight, too?
Copyright © 2005 Harlequin Books S.A.
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Do you think Marwey will decide to alter her life’s path and train to go to battle?
