Selected for Sport Ch. 19

Shivering in reaction, weeping at the dying screams of Xanir's magnificent horse -- because she had been distracted - Alanna crept to her right, sighted and eliminated a third mercenary, before pausing again.

The deadly silence up here, juxtaposed by the sounds of men and horses fighting and dying below, was terror in her blood. She wanted to run. But she couldn't: that was Xanir down there. Silently she crept towards where she would be able to sight further behind the pillar, then spun at a sound behind her. In terror, she had just time to glimpse the sword hissing down towards her when her Huon attacker flew sideways, stumbling under the churning hooves of the silent Rigal, ears back and teeth bared, who reared and struck fiercely at the inanimate heap on the floor.

Seeing a flicker on the opposite horizon, Alanna grabbed her horse's trailing rein and yanked his head sideways, out of the trajectory of the incoming arrow, hearing Rigal grunt as it scored his flank. Her own bow answered, and the distant silhouette dropped. She wasn't sure if she'd hit him or not, but didn't stop to look, dragging Rigal down off the skyline before the remaining mercenary could get a bead on him.

Guard! she motioned the command at him, winding in her last arrow, before turning to slither back up to the ridge and see what was going on in the fight. Teeth grabbed her jacket, and Rigal yanked her back down, snorting. "Guard!" she almost wept, breathlessly, but Rigal glared at her, daring her. Now was not a good time to find that her horse had his own set ideas on what guarding her meant.

"Stay!" she hissed.

Instead, Rigal whipped his head up and plunged along the side of the steep wall of sand. The thunk of an arrow hitting him was echoed by the ringing neigh as he reared to batter out with his forehooves. But Alanna had no time to react. The two mercenaries who had been trying to sneak up on them scattered, both drawing swords, Rigal plunged after the one who rolled down the dune and the next second she was fighting for her life with a sword too big for her. The mercenary kept circling around her so the sun was to his back, blinding her, and he seemed much more steady on the sand that kept sliding under her feet. His eyes didn't react either, but a new chill on her back had Alanna diving out of reach of the sword slashing from behind, then she was rolling uncontrollably until thudding hard into one of the boulders that punched out of the sand. Her brain registered that Rigal was on the opposite flank of this valley, sweat gleaming on his flanks under the rising sun as he spun to face a new adversary -- where were they all coming from? Even on the thought she spun back to her feet, trembling, to lift the heavy sword to meet the two warriors leaping down to engage her.

Hector Beguine.

Her mind narrowed to grim, implacable reality -- riposte, parry, feint, eyes locked on her twin adversaries, clinging to the faint, fading hope that she could hold until Rigal reached her.

A third shadow fell across her, and her heart failed even she parried yet another strike for her left flank.

Then swords rang and Beguine stumbled into her, knocking her backwards to trip over the rock at her feet, even while the mercenary she had been engaging lurched, a hand flying up to the throwing dagger buried in his neck while he fell forwards. Alanna's spinning head noted the silhouette of Kurim against the skyline, arm falling from the throw.

The Great Tahl leapt over her to re-engage the rolling Beguine, a vicious chop almost severing the wrist of his sword-arm, so the former Zalmat blenched and tried to grab his sword with his left hand.

Alanna's blade smashed sideways into Beguine's temple, felling him like an ox.

Xanir's alert gaze immediately swept the small valley, noting the furious warhorse trampling the still moving figure at opposite side, even while Kurim skidded to a halt beside them, chest heaving, and dropped to roughly bind the arms of the Norweig traitor behind him. "My Tahl, I couldn't keep up with her," he panted.

Xanir gave the boy a rough, rewarding squeeze of the shoulder before fiery black eyes swung back to Alanna: "What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, dropping on one knee to help Kurim.

A lump choked Alanna's throat and she sat up, her rawly blistered, aching palm finally letting go of the blade. She hugged her knees to her chest, staring at those stark, angular features and a painful hammering rose in her chest.

Sickness lurched into her throat.

"Answer me!" snarled Xanir, sparing a glance her way while he snatched up the field dressing kit Kurim had produced and slapped the satchel against the boy's chest, ordering, "Take this to Zander, now. Em Feliz was still alive; he will need it. Run."

"I am no longer your chattel," she heard her own voice growl.

Xanir's eyes snapped around towards her, incredulous anger firing the depths. Her ex was reaching for her when a ringing neigh jerked both males out of the way as Rigal charged to her side and turned to stand guard over her, baring his teeth.

Alanna gurgled a sound that was almost a laugh. Wearily she reached out a shaking palm to rest on his leg, pull herself up to standing, leaning into his side. She wiped her face, but the tears kept trickling. Then the smell of blood pulled her eyes to the patch of red running down from the arrow buried just behind her horse's shoulder on the off side, where the saddle ended.

"Kurim!" she called urgently. The boy scrambling up the dune paused, glancing back.

"Take Rigal," Alanna urger. "You'll reach him faster."

The boy hesitated, glancing at his Tahl, who made an impatient noise and reached for Rigal's trailing rein. He snatched his fingers back just in time before they were bitten.

Alanna gurgled a half-laugh, half-sob, and handed Kurim the reins herself as he skidded to a halt back beside them. "Friend," she choked again, wiping her face as she rested a hand briefly on the youngster's shoulder. Rigal flicked a suspicious ear but allowed the handover, glaring a warning at Xanir.

The next minute, they had slung the unconscious Beguine over Rigal's uninjured haunches, Kurim had mounted atop the bound prisoner, and the three of them disappeared up the hill.

"See to that horse's wounds as well," the Tahl called after them.

Silence fell, both of them steadying hard breathing, watching the silhouette of horse and rider disappear over the crown of the dune.

It was the Great Tahl who turn to eye Alanna, scowling, arms folded. "What are you doing here?" he demanded again, imperiously.

Her anger was less well hidden, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared back at him, balefully. "Protecting myself," she answered bitterly. "Someone had to do it?"

An eyebrow shot up and Xanir took a hasty stride closer, arms gesticulating while the anger pulsed out of him wildly. "By joining a bloodbath?!"

Alanna was furious at her automatic skitter of retreat and the tears that moistened her eyes. "A mis-step -- I was on information retrieval yet overstepped to engage," she acknowledged harshly. Her voice turned hoarse as she hugged herself tighter, "Would you have preferred me to remain hidden and just watch you get slaughtered?"

"You-!" Xanir broke off on a double-take, looking sharply down at the Huon mercenary yards away, the other trampled heap of limbs on the opposite rim of the gully, then glanced back up at the skyline, brows knitting. He swung back to Alanna, fierce eyes of a predator locking onto her. "How many archers?" he demanded sharply.

"Six." Her voice was an annoying squeak. Alanna was furious at her own body's melting reaction to the ferocious warrior's taut readiness; he was so gorgeous in all his glorious ferocity.

The squeak escaped in earnest when Xanir stepped in to lift her up off her feet, palms hot on the sides of her ribcage, eyes gleaming in pride before his lips caught hers in a fierce, demanding kiss.

Alanna combusted. Legs and arms wrapped around him, she scrambled up his intoxicatingly hard torso so that her head was above his, she could hold him steady by the hair and meet that delicious devouring with demands of her own, tongue stroking across his, little needy noises escaping.

He was moving them, short rapid footfalls teasing her stability, but she barely noticed, shaking with need, excitement hitching to the feral, almost brutal demands of the tongue and lips devouring her, arms squeezing her buttocks tight to the thunder of his heartbeat against hers.

Gasping for breath, Xanir dropped her on her feet in the shade of the boulder to rip her jacket off and yank the dress over her head. The raging heat in his eyes and hasty, out-of-control movements were mesmerising, jacking up her lust so her limbs were shaking with it and she keened, reaching for him, wanting that hard body pressed against hers, inside her.

She jumped as he swept her up in his arms again, her legs wrapping around him, and they both groaned when they collided at the hot, sensitive core. Xanir was so hard; for her. He was shaking with need, and she melted further, writhing against him, desperate hands pulling at his tunic.

One of his hands disappeared underneath his tunic and then he was there, hot, hard and ready, the blunt end searing against her molten needy core and she whimpered, clutching him to her. Her mouth opened on a gasp, body arching backwards as he surged in, sliding relentlessly up her slick passage, hauling her down with hard hands on her hipbones until he was embedded to the hilt. She had one moment to gasp a breath then cried out when he jerked back out, the sensation exploding through her needy body and she grabbed at him, holding on. He was having none of it. Ignoring her frantic attempts to slow him down, Xanir held her to him and began to jerk into her in fierce, needy thrusts, one arm braced against the boulder behind her.

Alanna was moaning, melting under the urgent, uncoordinated assault, drowning in the need pulsing off him as he slammed in, short, pleasured grunts and hissed, "yes." Arching away as the pummeling pleasure became too much she shrieked again, exploding into convulsions around his cock. Xanir roared in pleasure, yanked her hips tight against his as he thurst through the rippling passage and spurted deep inside her, chest heaving.

*

Damn, she couldn't believe she'd done that.

Alanna was blinking in the sudden return to reality as Xanir set her gently down on the sand and stooped to pick up her shift-dress. There was an uncomfortable patch on her spine where it had scored against the rock face, but it wasn't as red as the glow in her face. She snatched the clothing from him and yanked it over her head.

Xanir had his back to her while she threaded her arms back inside the Huon's jacket and she grimaced at the glimpse of him wiping himself off with the scarf of the dead Huon before tucking himself away. Ugh. She looked down, again becoming aware of her stinging, blistered palm. That sword really had been too big for her. And the cocktail of both hers and his excitement was trailing down her inner leg towards her soft boots -- they hadn't removed those. Double ugh. Using her uninjured hand she scoured it off distastefully with sand. More kept coming.

"Take that jacket off," Xanir's voice snapped. There was a dangerous spark in his eye as he stalked back to her.

Her chin lifted.

"I'm cold. No."

The emperor shrugged off his own beautifully embroidered jerkin, held it out. "Take this."

"No." She backed up.

His face darkened. "Now is not the time, princess. We need to rejoin Zander and Kurim and succour Em Feliz and the other wounded."

Rigal.

"Fine." She swung towards the crest of the dune. "You could've remembered that five minutes ago."

A hand in her collar yanked her backwards, off-balance. She pivoted and crouched, aiming her heel for his knee but he spun her off-balance onto her front in the sand by his grip on the jacket, dagger scoring across the lacing holding one sleeve on while he yanked it off over her arm.

"You could have remembered yourself," Xanir snarled.

She aimed an elbow back at his throat but he blocked it with a palm, flattening her with his weight briefly before hauling her head back by the collar and she choked for a second before heaving a breath as the leather down her back ripped apart under another sweep of his dagger.

"I haven't had sex for four months," she hissed, grabbing his braced left wrist in hers and digging her fingers into the pressure point.

Xanir hissed in a breath himself, his wrist twisting free and palm grabbing hers in a painful grip while he launched himself airborne with an abrupt heave of the other arm, twisted her onto her back underneath him, and landed back on her, tempering his weight with braced arms and feet yet still slamming a hoarse yelp out of her, more from surprise than hurt.

While she gasped for air both hands twisted in her hair and he tilted her head so the only thing she blinked back into focus was his proud, furious gaze.

"Neither have I," snapped Xanir.

Then his mouth attacked hers. Her blood surged in response, while her mind fluttered in disbelief.

Someone else fluttered in her stomach.

Abruptly, Xanir was on his feet, staggering back, his face bloodless, eyes fastened on her belly.

"Did I hurt the child?" he demanded.

Alanna was smiling down at the hand cupped over her tiny flutterer while Xanir helped her to her feet, absently stripping the remaining sleeve off her.

"It's fine. Just saying hello to Dad."

The silence stretched. Alanna looked up from stroking a gentle thumb over her belly, to see the Great Tahl looking down his nose at her, eyes remote.

Xanir sighed. "Princess. Let us agree in private not to lie to one another. I claim you and the child; you will be queen, he, in time, emperor. We can continue to work together to restructure the palace and constitution and ensure your safety, but I must be able to rely on your honesty."

Alanna stared at him, aghast. "Xanir, you were there! And you weren't exactly holding back."

He shuddered, closing his eyes as heat flared within them.

"And you know that Limaq would never betray you!"

The black eyes snapped open to display fathomless hurt. "He would also not have lied to me; especially not about this."

Alaana gasped. "You were there!" she repeated incredulously. "Even if Limaq had - this could be yours, you know that."

There was a harsh silence.

"Honesty. Both ways. In truth, I cannot father children," Xanir admitted quietly, weariness in every line. "Limaq knew this. He knew I wanted to keep you. And he knew I needed another son. Now you also know."

Alanna just stared at him, mouth agape. A sinking feeling was draining through her.

Xanir summoned a smile with an effort, masking the hurt. "Let us not speak of this again: the whole world must see the child as mine, it is mine. We have swept the empire clean of traitors and together can build him a safe, happy childhood home, such as you had. Please."

She continued to stare at him, fighting the lump in her throat and fire prickling her eyes.

The Great Tahl held out his hand. "Alanna, I have shared your torture: since we last parted, I have denied myself any release also, and so understand how hard it must have been for you. I understand why you faltered. I will ensure you do not have to endure this again."

Alanna turned on her heel and began to slowly climb the dune, throat working as she fought back tears. She was so, so cold. So Limaq had told Xanir that he was the father -- she gulped back a sob. There was no way around the dying words of his best friend, one of his most trusted sword brothers.

Besides, Xanir couldn't father children. Despite the daydreams he had shared, he must have always known that she was just going to remain a toy, a plaything to fill in the time until the Inchotan was of age and the Empire had thrashed out the intricate negotiations with Siane.

A chill ran down her spine. The Great Tahl took as many wives as he wished. No wonder he had negotiated the betrothal with his Sianese bride. He needed to to ensure the peace. That didn't mean he couldn't also take Alanna back.

The lump in her throat was painful.

Xanir tucked his jacket over her shoulders.

She shrugged it off.