Free The Golden Lion (Knights of Passion Series 2) by Evie North

 
    THE GOLDEN LION by EVIE NORTH
    (KNIGHTS OF PASSION SERIES 2)
     
     
    1192AD
     
    The fever made him burn. Some days he was in hell, on fire, and on others he shivered as if he was in the frozen wastes of the north. Some days, like this one, he felt better. The injury to his head had been so bad that he despaired of surviving at all, and they still didn’t know if he would live or die.
    He opened his eyes and saw the blazing sun in a sky so blue it was beyond description. And then he blinked and he was inside a dimly lit room, in a soft bed with a scented candle burning and a woman’s gentle hand bathing his brow.
    “The fighting?” he said, ready to rise up and pick up his sword and stand with his men against the enemy.
    “Hush, you are safe. Sleep now.”
    He turned his face away from the cool cloth, trying to remember. There were flashes, moments, where he was in the desert, injured and dying, and then he was lying aboard a sailing ship, being tended by the ship’s doctor, and at other times he was in a cart being taken home through the English countryside.
    Or was all that a dream ?
    “I will tell you a story, Garrick.”
    The woman’s voice was soft and clear, but he did not recognise it nor the name she called him.
    “What is my name, wench?” he demanded roughly.
    The cloth again, cooling his hot brow. “Sir Garrick Morrance is your name. You are a brave knight. You went with King Richard on his Crusade.”
    “Yes.” The memory was fleeting but he saw the king, ruddy haired like his father, more French than English. He saw the crusaders with their white surcoats decorated with their red crosses, and he remembered how long was the journey to the Holy Land.
    So much death and devastation. There had been little glory, and in the end, not much victory either. Richard had made a truce and then they had begun the march home again. For a time Garrick and his men had stayed in a palace, a grand palace. Was that when it happened? The attack that left him injured and damaged?
    “Let me tell you a story,” the woman said again.
    “Yes,” he whispered. Anything to turn his mind from the constant seeking for answers that were not there. He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes clouded with fever and pain. “Tell me a story, wench.”
    “There was a woman called Batilda . . .”
    ***
    Batilda looked out through the intricately carved screen that shielded her from the hot sun and the outside world. She was a prisoner in the palace of Aghar, a self-styled Sultan, who lived in a land not far from Cyprus. She had been here since she was very young and the ship in which she travelled with her parents struck the rocky coast. She was sold, as were all those who survived, and it was Aghar who bought her.
    Aghar’s origins were unknown . The general belief was that he came from somewhere further east but he had set up his kingdom with money which was said to have come from a wealthy prince, money he had stolen when he was the prince’s adviser. He had stolen other things as well, objects that were rumoured to be magic.
    As the years went by and Batilda grew into a beautiful woman she drew Aghar’s eye and he took her into his bed. At first this was new and strange, and Aghar touched her body in ways that made her cry out with pleasure before he entered her and took his own pleasure. But then he found a new girl to initiate and she was sent back to the harem. After once being the special one it was now difficult to be ignored and she became lonely and unhappy.
    She hoped he would let her go and she even begged him to free her so that she could go home, but he laughed at her and refused.
    “ Once you are part of my harem,” he said, “then you are here forever.” 
    And so the days passed and then the years passed and Batilda was still a prisoner in the sumptuous harem.
    Then s he discovered something that set her free. At least, temporarily.
    Batilda , being curious and intrepid, had a habit of going into corners of the