Dark Rider

By Elizabeth Monvey

When Lord Hark is stabbed, his uncle, the Governor of Eyvindar, hires a Mercenary to protect his heir. Hark resents having a babysitter, but when he meets Cax he’s unprepared for the spark of attraction between them.

Cax is a Mercenary, living by the code of his Guild. He is hired to protect Hark, even though it seems Hark’s biggest enemy is himself as he drowns in moon-ivy wine every day. But Cax can’t deny his attraction to the warrior, nor can he deny his attraction to Hark’s loyal servant, Alisander.

Alisander has been by Hark’s side almost his whole life. He is in love with Hark, pining over the impossibility of their relationship, but when he meets Cax he sees a future away from the servant life he’s been confined to—and even more than that in the Mercenary’s arms.

They are all three from different walks of life but manage to find love. Yet they need to discover the truth of the threat closing in on Hark, before it’s too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Sep 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781772330069

Book preview

Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Elizabeth Monvey

ISBN: 978-1-77233-006-9

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This story has taken a long journey. My heartfelt thanks to Evernight for allowing me to finally bring it to life, and to my editor Karyn for her guidance.

DARK RIDER

Elizabeth Monvey

Copyright © 2014

Prologue

Hark staggered out of Poro’s pub, weaving his way down the dark street. He half wished he’d drunk so much that he’d have passed out because navigating the treacherous tiers wasn’t going to be easy. The province of Eyvindar had been built into the mountainside, and that fact was reflected in the architect, resulting in a mismatch of levels only accessible by stone staircases that lay scattered among alleys. A road passed through the tiers, winding upward, but it was a steep incline with loose gravel and not practical for horses.

Or drunk men.

He cursed as he slipped and grabbed onto another man who happened to be walking by. The man cursed, too, and pushed him away, and Hark fell heavily onto his back. He lay there for a moment, staring up into the night sky. The stars twinkled mockingly at him.

He wished he was up there. He wished he was anywhere but here, in this cursed province. Instead, he was stuck here. It was enough to drive him crazy.

Suddenly, the man he’d bumped into loomed over him, blocking out his view. Hark blinked and frowned. He couldn’t see the man’s face since a large hood blocked out all recognizable facial features, and he tried to formulate the words to get him to move, but his brain wasn’t cooperating with him.

It didn’t really matter because in the blink of eye the man leaned down, the shine of a dagger glinting briefly in the moonlight, before the sharp blade was thrust into his belly.

Pain lanced through him, but all he could do was lie there and watch as the man rushed away. He felt blood pour out of the wound, felt himself slipping away, and his eyes refocused on the night sky.

Maybe his wish had been answered. Maybe he would be up there soon enough.

Chapter One

Cax kicked at his broolhorse as they passed over the barbican of Eyvindar. The animal’s hooves struck sharply on the stone path and caused several people to veer from in front. The animal nodded, its dark mane flapping wildly, as if saying thanks. The huge beasts were the quickest animal on land, and expensive, so Cax wanted to make sure his was well taken care of.

Cax glanced up at the watchtowers where the sentinels stood, alert and suspicious of all new arrivals. He made a mental note of the number of guards present, various weapons and the occasional dull blade of a newly graduated soldier.

He was dressed entirely in black, black cloak tied at his throat, black breeches hugging slender hips, and black boots that laced up to his knees. His shirt and tunic held no identifiable markings save for the ornate stitchery that trimmed the ebony material. Even his hair, the color of midnight, blended perfectly with his color of choice. The only decorations he wore were two silver rings encircling his left thumb and left first finger.

His pale blue eyes took in everything, every shadow, every corner to escape from or hide into. Once over the fixed bridge and lowered gates, Eyvindar held a central point, with several stables, wash houses, merchant stalls, and eating establishments. He reined his broolhorse toward the nearest stable, leaving the coming and going traffic to blend in with the merchants who were preparing for the night by closing their stalls. He saw an old woman trying to sell scraps of lace and the last of her withered flowers. There was a pickpocket making his round on an unsuspecting public. And there were men bustling from vendor to vendor for last minute suppers. He saw a frenzied excitement thrumming through the people as twilight faded into night.

After stabling his broolhorse and making sure the animal would be well cared for, he headed on foot for the seedier tier, a place called Winemaker Row, where a man like him would blend better and not raise too much talk, yet where talk flowed freely.

The pub he chose was a hole in the wall. The musty smell of fermented yeast and barley greeted him with a familiar waft since the life of a Mercenary never revolved around the opulence of high society. There were half a dozen tables whose candles burned at low wick. Around the walls were shadowed booths, faded velvet curtains ready to be pulled shut when customers were able to pay enough for the pleasure of a serving wench. There were only three patrons visible since twilight wasn’t the happy hour of drinking to oblivion. One serving girl in faded sateen moved between tables while another one stood by the bar clearly waiting for her work to begin.

She eyed him up and down, met his eyes briefly before realizing she was not needed. She turned her body away, presenting him her back, a clear sign of dismissal. He ignored her as he eased up to the bar that lined the far wall, placing a silver piece upon the stained wooden counter. Pint, he mumbled to the barkeep. Nothing watered down.

The barkeep shifted from one foot the other, a gap-tooth smile appearing from behind a grimy moustache that hung slightly too long over his top lip. He was tall, lanky in an unhealthy way, with yellow tinting his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t seen a bath in a month, which a slight odor confirmed. He eyed the coin greedily then scooped it up in a single fluid motion, using one browned tooth to verify its worth. A second later, a metal cup was plopped down as a splash of liquid tipped over one side of the rim. Here you go, the barkeep nodded to him. Straight ale. Name’s Poro. If you need anything, just let me know.

The man inclined his head, taking a tentative sip. It was extremely bitter. He wrinkled his nose at the musty yeast smell. I’m Cax. New in town and this looked to be the best establishment on Winemaker Row.

Poro leaned his bony hip against the bar and gave a satisfied sniff. I have the best rooms this side of the Row. Small they may be, but I personally vouch for privacy since each room has its own door. You’ll not find that anywhere else on the Row. Plus, we have wine girls aplenty, clean ones, and many a lad if your taste leans that way.

Cax drank deeply from his cup before shaking his head. Tempting but I’ll pass for now.

Poro shrugged, using a cloth to wipe the wooden counter in front of him, then moving on to listen to the serving girl who had come up to the bar. As the barkeep filled her order, Cax took another sip of his ale. True to his coin, the brew wasn’t watered down, but it was far