The Name Of The Sword (Book 4) by J.L. Doty

camp, arguing heatedly. Just a few paces away Rhiannead stood near the tent watching them, her back to Morgin.
    Rafaellen’s distrust of Morgin spilled out of every word as he berated the sentry. His misgivings might prove to be a serious problem, so Morgin considered slipping back into the deep forest and hiding among its shadows. He could follow them at a distance and retrieve Mortiss when opportunity presented him with a convenient moment. But they needed to be warned about the danger of the jackal warriors.
    He checked his shadows carefully, then stepped out of the forest near the tent just behind Rhiannead. The overhanging branches of the trees threw shadows all about the tent, so he stepped partially behind it and dropped his shadows. He whispered, “They’re angry with me, eh?”
    She started and turned quickly to face him, but the fear on her face disappeared when she recognized him. She stepped quickly toward him, joined him behind the tent, and standing there no more than a pace away, he forgot everything and wanted nothing more than to touch her. Again, he sensed the forest’s influence acting upon them both.
    “Where did you go?” she asked.
    “To do a little scouting. There is an old danger in the forest and Rafaellen must be warned.”
    “I know,” she said. “The jackals. She wanted me to warn you.”
    She wanted me to warn you. That had been an odd way of putting it. And how had she known of the jackals? “Who is she ?” he asked, but he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and then he cared nothing for her answer.
    “It’s doing it again,” she said. “The forest.”
    She raised a hand toward his face, extended a finger and traced the line of his jaw. And as before, when she touched him, a cascade of shared memories flooded through him. They danced together at a ball where they’d met, and later she hurt him, a wound of the heart, and he had returned the injury in kind. He recalled the kiss in the stables—but then he remembered that it hadn’t been Rhiannead he had kissed.
    She gasped, lowered her hand and shook herself. Her eyes narrowed and she spoke as if angry with him, spoke in a voice that sounded as if she were Rhianne. “I promised myself I would do this.”
    She reached out, grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him toward her and kissed him with passion and heat and desire. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she pressed her body against him. She showed no restraint as their tongues danced together hungrily.
    The kiss lasted an eternity, and yet it ended in the blink of an eye. Their lips parted, but she remained in his arms, her lips brushing against his cheek. She whispered, “We shouldn’t do this.”
    He said, “It’s the damn forest.” He didn’t add that he was glad the forest kept throwing her into his arms, though he knew he shouldn’t betray Rhianne this way.
    She said, “And I don’t understand that. It is said the god-queen and the Unnamed King cannot truly come into their power until they are wed. I—”
    “Ahhh!”
    Kenna’s shout startled them both, and they jumped apart like two children caught playing kissing games. Again, the forest sighed its disappointment.
    Kenna marched up to them shaking with anger. “What are you doing?”
    Rafaellen and his soldiers quickly surrounded them.
    “It’s the forest,” Rhiannead pleaded. “It keeps driving us into each other’s arms.”
    Kenna stepped between Morgin and Rhiannead as if she needed to protect her. “Impossible, you foolish girl. The forest would not press you to betray its master? You were raised from birth for one thing, and one thing only.”
    “That’s not important,” Morgin said, turning to Rafaellen. “There is danger in the forest, and we must be ready to defend ourselves.”
    Kenna swung out and slapped Morgin across the face so hard he staggered back a step. Two soldiers grabbed him and twisted his arms painfully behind his back.
    Rafaellen drew his sword and leveled the