Fighting for You Read online

  Table of Contents

  Fighting for You

  Book Details

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  The Conclusion to the Lifesworn Trilogy…

  About the Author

  Fighting

  for

  You

  LIFESWORN BOOK TWO

  MEGAN DERR

  All Penli wants to be is left alone. After nearly a decade of blood, violence, and killing; and a lifetime of enduring his cold, ambitious family, it's almost a relief to be practically alone in the middle of a desert kingdom with no way to return home because of the warrant out for his arrest.

  The very last thing he needs is to be consumed by a fit of honor and nobility—but he would much rather die than ever see the two sweet, intriguing men who cross his path forced apart, one to be thrown to the streets, the other to marry a malicious bully Penli has hated all his life.

  Though he means only to free them, having no desire to marry after barely escaping one unwanted marriage, with each passing day Penli fears the only thing more difficult than throwing his life away will be resisting the urge to build a new one with two men he barely knows.

  Fighting for You

  Lifesworn 2

  By Megan Derr

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Amanda Jean

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  Second Edition June 2019

  First Edition published June 2017 by Ninestar Press

  Copyright © 2019 by Megan Derr

  Printed in the United States of America

  Prologue

  Sixteen years ago

  "Enough."

  Penli huffed and fired one more arrow anyway—and yowled when the instructor cuffed him, leaving his ears ringing.

  "What did I say?" Kure demanded.

  "Enough," Penli grumbled.

  "Unstring your bow and clean up. We're done for the day."

  Several paces away, Tishasanti the Bastard opened his mouth to argue, but a look from their archery instructor had him snapping it shut.

  Penli bit back his own complaints, even though it wasn't fair that he was making them quit practice before there was a winner. He'd almost had Tishi-Wishi. One more round and he'd have won!

  Grumbling to himself, Penli unstrung his longbow and set it aside before he went to retrieve all his arrows, shoving them irritably into the quiver at his hip. When he was done, he retrieved his bow and headed off across campus to the dormitories on the far side. The air was chilly, heralding the coming winter, but not yet so cold that he needed more than the long sleeves and cowl he was wearing. Practice was usually active enough to keep him warm well into winter. Unlike Tishi-Wishi, he could handle cold weather.

  Thinking of Tishasanti and cold weather reminded him of the time Tishasanti had lost his footing and slid all the way down a hill and into a cluster of shrubs the previous winter. Penli snickered at the memory.

  "What's so funny, Penlington? Other than your terrible aim."

  Penli stopped and turned, and sneered at Tishasanti. From their first day of school, he'd hated Tishasanti. He was loud-mouthed, bossy, and thought himself better than everyone else. He also liked to solve problems with his fists and, when that didn't work, tattled to his daddy.

  After Penli had gotten revenge on him for a sucker punch by breaking Tishasanti's nose, they'd been mortal enemies. Well, they'd already been well on the way to that, because Tishasanti thought he was the best at everything—including archery, which was Penli's specialty. No way was Tishi-Wishi better than him. He didn't care if they did draw even almost every single time. That was dumb luck for Tishasanti.

  "Go away, Tishi-Wishi."

  Face going red at the hated nickname, Tishasanti spat, "If that bastard Kure hadn't stopped us, I would have had you, and we both know it."

  Penli sneered. "Please. You'll never have me in any manner of speaking. You only beat me at anything when luck is on your side."

  "Oh, I see, still mad about the way I trounced you in the ring this morning?"

  Curling his hands into his fists at his side, Penli hissed, "You cheated!"

  "All's fair in war, Penlington. If you hadn't been so busy fretting about your stupid hair, maybe you'd have seen that move coming. Who needs luck to beat you when all they have to do is get mud all over your hair or clothes? You fuss more than a girl on her wedding day."

  "At least whoever I marry won't want to kill themselves rather than go through with the marriage," Penli retorted—and didn't move in time as Tishasanti bellowed and slammed a fist into his jaw.

  Penli stumbled back several steps and wiped blood from his mouth. "Were you hoping I'd go down like you, Tishi? Sorry, you're the only one here with a glass jaw." That time, he was ready for the swing, and countered with a dodge promptly followed by a foot to Tishasanti's stomach.

  After that, the fighting got ugly, and stopped only when some professors showed up and dragged them apart.

  "Sir—"

  "Be quiet," Kure snapped, and Penli withered. Of all the professors on campus, his archery instructor was by far his favorite—even if he could be infuriatingly stubborn and unreasonable about some things. Like putting up with Tishasanti.

  He remained quiet as they were dragged into the headmaster's office. Next to him, Tishasanti was equally silent, which was odd. Usually by now he was screaming about what his father would have to say about this.

  "What a surprise to see you two again," Headmaster Worth replied, leaning back in his seat, making it creak with the weight of muscle and fat wedged into it. In his tournament days, before they'd faded out of popularity, Worth had been called 'the Wall' and he hadn't turned into a ruin with age. "Two violent peas in a pod."

  Penli and Tishasanti bristled. "I am nothing—"

  "We have nothing—"

  They cut off as Kure cuffed them.

  Worth stared implacably for several long, miserable minutes. "You're both too intelligent to simply throw you out for the vagaries of youth. However, these violent outbursts cannot continue. You are peers of your respective realms and you must learn to act like it." When Tishasanti started to speak, Worth cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Spare me mentions of your father; I've conversed with him at length and he has left the matter of your discipline wholly in my hands. The question is: what sort of discipline will finally get through those stubborn heads of yours?"

  Penli started to reply that removing Tishasanti's head would fix everything, looked at Worth's face, and thought better of it. Even if he was right that Tishasanti was the problem. Why did they insist on acting like he was just as responsible? Tishasanti was the one who always started it.

  The look on Worth's face then said he had read every last one of Penli's thoughts and was vastly disappointed by them. How the bastard did that, Penli didn't know.

  Worth lifted his eyes to exchange some silent conversation with Kure.

  "With me," Kure snapped, and dragged Penli out of the room. The heavy door closed on the sound of Worth giving Tishasanti a dressing down unlike any they'd received before.

  Penli snickered.

  "And what, you think you're not in trouble?" Kure demanded, dragging him down the hall and all but throwing him into an empty study
room. After slamming the door shut, he folded his arms across his chest.

  Penli scowled at the tear in a seam of his shirt—a beautiful, fitted thing meant especially for archery, dark violet lawn and embroidered all over with white and gold flowers. "You didn't have to ruin my shirt."

  "The blood covering half of it already took care of that," Kure replied, voice going even colder. "I think you have more important things to worry about than your clothes, Penlington."

  "He started it!" Penli snapped. "I was minding my own business, and he showed up—"

  "Just because he taunts you doesn't mean you have to give in." Kure held up a hand. "But let's start with before that. Why do you think I halted practice early?"

  Penli shrugged and looked at the floor, fighting an urge to cross his arms. Kure looked intimidating when he did it; Penli would only look weak. "I figured you were annoyed."

  "Yes. About what?"

  "I don't know. I was hitting all the marks. I was one point ahead—"

  "That. That right there. The points are not a contest. They aren't there so you and Tishasanti can feud. Neither are the duels, or the tests, or anything else. Those are meant to test your personal acumen. Do you understand what it is you're learning to do when you hit those marks?"

  Penli looked at him with all the growing irritation overtaking him. "Hitting marks?"

  Kure boxed his ears, and once Penli was down yowling, he said, "You are learning to kill. Every mark is, if you're lucky, a dead animal brought down to feed your fellow soldiers. If you're not lucky, your arrow will land in someone's eye, or chest, or somewhere that will slow them long enough you can then take a killing shot. And instead of appreciating that, you and Tishasanti are so busy proving who is better that you're not learning what you should be. What, pray tell, are you trying to better than him at?"

  "Everything."

  "Funny, he's probably giving that same answer to the headmaster as we speak. Why do you want to be better than him?"

  "Because I am! Because he picks on people for no reason, he hurts them and laughs at it and then walks off like none of that matters. And then he gets away with it because of teachers like you, who don't care what he does!"

  Kure sighed and motioned for him to sit, then took a nearby seat. "Penlington—"

  "It's Penli," Penli muttered.

  "Penli, then," Kure said. "I know you hate him, and perhaps you have good reason. But you need to get through that stubborn head of yours that the biggest reason the two of you clash is that you're a lot alike."

  "We are—"

  "Be quiet," Kure cut in calmly. "You don't talk until I say you may. Now, then. You are both exceptionally smart. You are both highly capable in all manner of martial skills. You both tend to be aggressive when you are riled, which is not something to be proud of. If you had grown up just a little bit different, Penli, you would behave exactly like him. It's by the grace of the gods and your parents that don't. But you do seem to have appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner when it comes to Tishasanti, and that's just as bad. You see one small portion of Tishasanti's life. Perhaps he deserves to be punished, but who you are to decide and act on that? What do you think people think of you, always seeing the two of you fight?"

  Penli shook his head, a knot forming in his stomach.

  "They think you're pretty, and nice at times, but mostly scary, because you're always fighting. Because sometimes from where they're standing, and the limited knowledge they possess, you look like the one in the wrong. Remember that Penli: you don't always know the whole story, and who is the hero and who the villain is entirely relative. Leave the judging to those who have seen the whole picture."

  "Yes, Professor," Penli said. Did people really think he was scary?

  "Penli," Kure said more gently, and when he finally looked up continued, "If you really want to be a better person than Tishasanti, then remember that only cowards resort to violence first. Only the cruel-hearted find humor in another's pain. And the most dangerous person in the room is the one who thinks they know everything. Ignore Tishasanti as best you're able. Focus on your lessons, and not on besting him. No more fights in the halls, or one day you'll find that it gets easier and easier to use violence to put people in the place you think they belong. Violence should always be a last resort. Arrogance should never make your decisions."

  "Yes, Professor," Penli repeated. "I-I'm not really scary, am I? Just because I fight with Tishasanti?"

  "You're intimidating to many because, in addition to fighting with him, you are fiercely competitive, lose your temper quite easily, and there are rumors you're going to be snatched up by the army because of your archery skills."

  Penli had been preening about that all month, that he was good enough to become a royal archer, go on secret missions to defend the people and save the kingdom. But with Kure's words still filling his head, all he felt was sick and scared. He wanted to be a hero, not an evil bastard like Tishasanti. "I-I'm sorry. I really do just hate the way he treats people."

  "I know," Kure said gruffly. "But trust that people with more experience will deal with him as best we're able, and there are parts of the story you will likely never learn. I know it's hard, and often feels unfair, but all you can do is keep moving forward doing your best. Stop giving in to your worst. All right?"

  "Yes, Professor."

  "Good." He stood and Penli did the same. "Now let's get you back to your room so you can dress for dinner, and we'll discuss your punishment along the way."

  Penli groaned, but fell into step alongside him as they headed across campus.

  Chapter One

  Penli wanted very badly to get drunk. If he had to go one. More. Wretched hour of this tiresome dinner without the cushion of liquor, he might very well do something drastic, like burn his favorite sash. Which would be a travesty, since it was made of the finest silk and dyed the loveliest purple ombre with pink flowers.

  Maybe he would simply use it to throttle Lord Tishasanti. Done properly, he could kill the odious bastard and still have the sash to wear to the homecoming fete everyone talked about ceaselessly. He hoped the poor bastard returning home to marry Tishasanti knew what he was in for and was up to the task.

  He shared a surreptitious look with Shanna and then cast his attention back on his food, which was sumptuous and easily his favorite part of living in Morentia. Well, second favorite. His favorite part was the lack of family pressuring him to do what they wanted without ever once considering what he needed.

  His gaze slipped briefly to Shanna again, who laughed at something Kallaar said and then smiled at him like he was the reason the sun rose every morning. Her gaze drifted briefly to the man against the wall, Kallaar's bodyguard—now their bodyguard, and also their lover.

  Threesomes were not something Penli had ever considered. He'd participated in one years ago, but the situation had been decidedly tepid and so he'd never bothered again. The happy trio at the far end of the table made him wonder if perhaps more experimentation was in order. Then again, he'd never managed to keep one lover for more than a matter of weeks, so he sincerely doubted he could manage to find two who wanted to build a life with him. Whatever his wishful thinking, life had made it clear he would always be alone in that respect. At least he had Shanna.

  He poured more wine from the pitcher in front of him—a pale, dry and crisp wine he muchly admired. The few things he did miss from home were more than made up for in the food, drink, and clothes that Morentia provided. He had not been there since he was a young boy, fostered out for a few years to learn the language and customs. Though his parents had ever ignored his wishes, Penli had always tried to fulfill theirs.

  But ignoring him when he was arrested by King Mercen under false charges—after Mercen ordered his arm broken—was a bit too much. He was not remotely sorry he had thrown everything away to side with Shanna. She had accepted him and loved him when everyone else was embarrassed by and for him. He would do anything for her, and she for him.<
br />
  Still, it stung that the family he had always worked so hard for had abandoned him the one time he truly needed them. By now they must know where he was, for it was impossible to keep his presence in Morentia a secret, and still they said nothing. He could pretend it was because Mercen thwarted them, but the unfortunate truth was that he wouldn't have to; Penli's family had always been happy to be Mercen's lapdogs. Now that he was no longer there to marry off to a prince that would prove useful to his family and Mercen, he may as well be dead to them.

  Which was fine. Except for the fact that, save for those hours he got to spend with Shanna, he felt more alone than ever. He might have been laughed at and mocked back home, but he'd had power and skill enough where it mattered that no one dared snub him.

  Here, despite his close friendship with Shanna, they either snubbed him for being a strange foreigner, or avoided him because of the mutual hatred between him and Tishasanti. A combination of pride and pure stubbornness kept him from doing or saying anything that would change the court's mind. Let them think what they wanted. He would get through the banquets and the fetes and the outings and otherwise keep his skills sharp and bide his time. One day they would wind up with cream on their faces and then they'd see who laughed longest and loudest.

  So he drank his wine and ate his food and conversed with the people around him, pushing and pushing until they stopped being stuffy and started chatting. Honestly, they were not going to burst into flame or otherwise suffer simply because Tishasanti hated his guts. Tishasanti didn't care enough about any of them to make a fuss over who they talked to—unless it affected his income or reputation. And as to the few who didn't know how to handle Penli's florid manner or beautiful clothes: that was their problem, not his. He looked magnificent, he refused to behave like a dead fish, and it was their loss if they couldn't appreciate that.

  By the time the banquet ended and he was allowed to make his escape, he was mildly drunk and extremely restless. Exchanging his court clothes for plainer, but no less beautiful, attire to wear into the city, he went in search of a suitable distraction from dull palace life and the constant, underlying anxiety of being a man in exile, whose only chance of returning home was war. He was so damned tired of war. Why was fighting and killing the only way people seemed to want to resolve problems?