Dreams of a Dark Warrior

now.”
    She sighed. “Stubborn. Just like a man I knew whose name starts with A.”
    “I’m not this Aidan you revere. I’m nothing like him.”
    “You’re so similar it’s uncanny. You’re both warriors, the strongest and best at what you do. That’s been the same with each of the reincarnations.”
    Curiosity got the best of him, and he asked, “What were the others?”
    “You’ve been a knight, a privateer, and a cavalry officer. Warriors all. Yet each embodiment emphasizes specific facets of Aidan’s personality. The first was Treves, a medieval French knight, notorious across Europe. He represented Aidan’s ruthlessness and power.”
    “How did you meet him?”
    “Fate. We were both in France one winter for a castle siege.”
    “Shouldn’t you have been in Valhalla?”
    Sadness flashed in her expression. “I never get to go back to Valhalla. Once you leave, you’re forbidden to return.” Before he could ask her about that, she continued, “Lucia—she’s my favorite sister—and I were defending the old Earl of Lanbert’s castle.”
    “Why?”
    “Lanbert’s forefathers hailed from the North, and hisline still worshipped the Valkyrie. Lucia and I decided to reward their prayers and offerings—by pledging swords and bow to the defense of their home. Plus, we were bored out of our gourds.”
    “Was Treves another ally?”
    “Not at all. You see, we were defending the castle against
you
.”

NINETEEN

    A gainst me?” Chase raised his brows.
    “Uh-huh. Castle-taking was your thing. You ‘commandeered’ key strongholds for King Philip all over Europe, and you’d set your sights on Lanbert’s keep.” Regin drew her calves under her to sit cross-legged on his desk, daring him to say something. Getting comfy when cuffed was damned near impossible.
    He glowered but said nothing.
    “Every day your army trenched in closer to the castle, almost in trebuchet range. But we’d known it was only a matter of time. Your men were fanatically loyal, and you were a master strategist. Lucia was running out of arrows. My blades were dulled from cleaving bone. We hadn’t slept in days …”
    When she began describing the setting—the smell of smoke and tar, the lingering rock dust from the battered castle walls, the smithy’s constant hammering—he leaned back in his chair, the marked tension in his shoulders lessening.
    As she recounted the weeks of battle, the foot-soldier offensives and arrow exchanges, he relaxed even more, resting his hands behind his head. Chase liked these tales.
    “Then came the day of reckoning. The trebuchets were loaded, and so close that we could hear the ropes straining. Before you fired them, you rode up to the portcullis, astride a wild-eyed stallion. Skirmishes slowed, quieting until only a stray sword clanged here or there. You were tall, not as tall as you are now, but massive in armor. I would have known you were Treves even if you hadn’t been carrying your standard, a red banner with two ravens in flight.”
    “Ravens?” Had tension crept back into his shoulders?
    “The symbol of Wóden, remember? At the time, we just thought it was a coincidence that Treves had it.” She slanted him a glance. “You know this mark?”
    Chase shook his head. “Go on.”
    After a hesitation, she said, “For some reason, you raised your gaze to the rampart I defended, doing a double take at me.”
    In an irritable tone, Chase said, “Perhaps because you
glow
.”
    “I was cloaked from head to toe,” she said with a saccharine smile. “To Lanbert, you bellowed, ‘Surrender your castle, or I’ll raze it to the ground.’ Your ultimatum didn’t sit well with me, so naturally, I voiced my opinion.”
    “Which was?”
    “That you should go copulate with a pig. It sounded way cooler in medieval French.”
    Chase raised his brows.
    “But at my words, you jolted in your saddle, your horse growing even more wild-eyed. You called to me, ‘You defend that rampart, female?’ I answered, ‘To thedeath, prick.’ Again, way cooler in medieval French.”
    “You antagonized the leader of a superior force?”
    “What were you going to do? Trebuchet us even harder?”
    “So how did
he
respond?” Chase asked.
    “
You
called out, ‘Lanbert, send down the black-cloaked woman as my war prize, and I will end my siege. We close this eve with peace between us.’ Everyone was floored. For Treves to quit a siege without a victory? You’d won dozens of