Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [151]
It wanted to be here.
“No, I won’t destroy it.” She tucked the banner beneath her arm. “Since you leave the decision to me, I choose to find a safe hiding place and leave it there.”
“A hiding place…” Ware mused. “They put the lion throne in a safe hiding place and I found it. Hiding places don’t always remain safe.”
She felt a ripple of disquiet. “Then we must make sure that we find a better place than your Knights Templar.” By the saints, how foolish they were to worry about this. They would never be entirely safe, but Vaden had made sure they all had freedom and opportunity in this new land. Joy suddenly soared through her.
“We have better things to do than brood about a banner.” She kissed Ware lovingly on the cheek before taking his arm and turning away from Vaden’s now distant figure. “That’s all in the past. Now, about finishing your castle. Since we know we’re more secure than we thought, cannot it wait another winter so that I may have my ship?”
About the Author
IRIS JOHANSEN has more than twenty-seven million copies of her books in print and is the New York Times bestselling author of Stalemate, Killer Dreams, On the Run, Countdown, Blind Alley, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim, and more. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia.
Coming Soon from Bantam Dell…
The never-before-published sequel
The Treasure
available December 2008
Read on for a sneak peak
of THE TREASURE…
THE TREASURE
Coming from Bantam in December 2008
MAY 3, 1196
FORTRESS OF MAYSEF
NOSAIRI MOUNTAINS
SYRIA
HIS POWER WAS WANING, fading like that blood-red sun setting behind the mountains.
Jabbar Al Nasim’s fists clenched with fury as he gazed out at the sun sinking on the horizon. It should not be. It made no sense that he should be so afflicted. Weakness was for those other fools, not for him.
Yet he had always known it would come. It had even come for Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain. But he had always been stronger than the old man in both mind and spirit. Sinan had bent before the yoke, but Nasim had prepared for it.
Kadar.
“You sent for me, master?”
He turned to see Ali Balkir striding along the battlements toward him. The man’s voice was soft, hesitant, and he could see the fear in his face. Nasim felt a jolt of fierce pleasure as he realized the captain had not detected any loss of power. Well, why should he? Nasim had always been master here, in spite of what outsiders thought. Sinan might have been the King of Assassins, feared by kings and warriors alike, but Nasim had been the one who had guided his footsteps. Everyone here at the fortress knew and groveled at his feet.
And they’d continue to grovel. He would not let this monstrous thing happen to him.
Balkir took a hurried step back as he saw Nasim’s expression. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I beg your forgiveness for intrud—”
“No, stay. I have a task for you.”
Balkir drew a relieved breath. “Another attack on the Frankish ships? Gladly. I brought you much gold from my last journey. I will bring you even more this—”
“Be silent. I wish you to return to Scotland where you left Kadar Ben Arnaud and the foreigners. You are to tell him nothing of what has transpired here. Do not mention me. Tell him only that Sinan is claiming his price. Bring him to me.”
Balkir’s eyes widened. “Sinan? But Sinan is—”
“Do you question me?”
“No, never.” Balkir moistened his lips. “But what if he refuses?”
Balkir was terrified, Nasim realized, and not of failing him. Nasim had forgotten that Balkir was at the fortress at the time Kadar underwent his training; Balkir knew how adept Kadar was in all the dark arts. More adept than any man Nasim had ever known, and Kadar was only a boy of ten and four when he came to the mountain. How proud Sinan had been of him. What plans he had made for the two of them. He had never realized Nasim had plans of his own for Kadar.
All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the