Branded

by Clare London

  “Not so far at all,” Dax gasped, though his body shuddered as he let me down to the ground beside him. I heard his bones creak their complaint. “I wonder why there’s not more communication between the city and the Exiles. Surely the city must be aware of how close they are? There could be some kind of peace between them if someone brokered it. And if that’s not an option, why don’t the Exiles seek a sanctuary farther away?”

  I didn’t answer. My mind was distracted with bearing my pain, with my plans to get us finally to safety, and with the opinions I already had of my own.

  “Maen, are you all right?” he said. “Veli said the city sent the Guard to find you, when we were first taken. Do you think they might still be watching out?” Despite his concern for me, his face was drawn with pain and exhaustion. Neither of us was in any condition to make the last journey down from the cliff face to the plains below. Panting, he sank down opposite me at the base of a rock.

  I ground out my reply. “Maybe.” The weather was still as chilled as ice, although the wind had dropped as the night passed. The pain in my leg made me dizzy; the confusion in my head was frustrating. I was also concerned for Dax, for I could see he was shaking and his words slurred. “Dax, you must rest now, and then perhaps later….”

  He didn’t hear me. He rolled his eyes and waved his hands in the air, grasping at something invisible. He murmured words that must have been Remainder ones, or maybe even Exile ones, for I didn’t recognize them. Like me, he was exhausted, and maybe still suffering from injuries I knew nothing about. I struggled to reach over and help him, but he slumped to the ground and sank into unconsciousness. It was all I could do to drag him across into my arms and let him lie there, trying to shelter him from the cold with my body.

  MAYBE I heard the voices and the clatter of armor when the Guard approached, but I doubt I could have made any other move except to raise my bitterly weary head. They’d climbed the cliff to reach us, so they must have seen us approach, and considered the effort of leaving the city worth it for some reason. I didn’t believe, as Dax might have done, that they’d kept watch for me specifically. But even as I staggered to my feet—even as I braced myself against the rock behind us—I felt an overwhelming relief at the sight of city clothes and city armor.

  “Take us to the Mistress of the House of the Exchequer,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice nothing but a thread of painful sound. Strong hands grasped mine. Faces swam in front of me, though my focus blurred due to the pain and the cold and the shock of it all. “We are part of her Guard.”

  Another soldier pushed past the ones who held me. He threw them aside and caught at me himself, even as my knee buckled again and I began to fall.

  I didn’t see his face before I collapsed. I could only hope we’d be treated with respect.

  I expected no more of my life now.

  IT TOOK a couple of days before the fever left me again. I’d never been ill before, and to be so debilitated, twice, in such a short time, scared me. Grien had apparently insisted I be kept in the barracks, where he could monitor my progress. So they placed me on a spare pallet at the back of the room, and screens were pulled around me for some privacy and rest. But there was no real fear of disturbing me. I didn’t even register where I was for a day and a night, maybe more. Grien had medicines brought in, and bandages changed, and a thin soup fetched when I was fit enough to eat it. Trust Grien, I thought when my spirit was brave enough to consider a weary, private smile. Trust Grien to think about food!

  On the first evening I was properly conscious again, he called on me when most of the Silver Captains were either on watch or preparing for the winter season Games. The Games had been postponed after the Exiles’ attack, but were now due to be held in a few days’ time, and visitors were already arriving in the Household.

  “You’re looking much better now,” he said. “Though you’ll bear scars we could do nothing about.”

  Not just on my body, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue about that. “I must thank you. We were close to collapse after the journey. Was it you who led the party out to the rocks?”

  He nodded. I stared up at him, unsure whether he would welcome a smile of friendship. There was something about his bearing now, something in his eyes that was different toward me. I examined his features and smiled. The small, precious gold earring was bright and new in his ear. “You’re a Gold Warrior yourself now, I see. Congratulations.”

  “We needed the third Warrior,” he said swiftly, though he flushed with pride as well, “with you gone. I was promoted as soon as the hunting party returned with no news of you.” He looked at my own ear, bare of its badge. “Did you lose yours to the Exiles?”

  Keeping my expression clear, I nodded. “Did you ask for the hunting party as well? When I was first taken?”

  He made a small, quick noise of annoyance, as if my questioning embarrassed him. “I did, though it was in vain. We lost their trail very quickly in the poor weather and unfamiliar terrain. I suggested to Mistress Luana that we should try to recover you, that the Exiles wouldn’t get far carrying a wounded Gold Warrior. That it was in the Household’s interests to prevent any security knowledge being captured by them.”

  “Thank you for trying.”

  His eyes met mine, but the expression was strangely distant. “I did it for the Household, Maen. You’ll understand that. For the city. For the Mistress. Devotion to the city is everything—”

  “Service to the city is our reward,” I completed. There was a sudden chill across my weakened body. It was almost as if he sought to trip me—to catch me out in a weakness of devotion, as well.

  “How many did I… we lose in the attack?”

  The answer was devastating, and Grien was visibly upset. We’d lost the other Bronzeman and also Orven. Justes had sustained a vicious blow to his arm from a badly kept weapon, and he’d died shortly afterward from a strange and untreatable infection, raving and in great pain. The Exiles had taken other soldiers down with them before they retreated, but those named were the ones that affected me most personally.

  “And Fremer?”

  “Fremer is fine,” said Grien shortly. He must have known why I asked. Fremer and Justes had been good friends—for Devotions’ sake, I believed they’d been more than that. But when I looked for compassion in Grien’s face I saw nothing in return except cold, steady distance. It was partly a relief to me, for it meant he couldn’t know about me and Dax, and what we’d done while we’d been captive: what we’d discovered about each other, and what we’d become. Such knowledge would have shown in his face, I was sure. But his disapproval was a strange new kind of agony too, as if I no longer rated his respect and admiration. The feeling stung as painfully as if he’d struck me.

  The thought of having lost my position was suddenly abhorrent, though I must have known it was probable. After all, what kind of a Gold Warrior would I be now, with such serious injuries? To say nothing of the potential corruption from being in the enemy camp for so long. “So, Grien, you’re now in charge.” My voice sounded tight. “Will you have me report for duty as soon as I’m on my feet again? Is that what the Mistress wants?”

  His eyes flickered, but the expression passed too quickly for me to know what it meant. His tone grew a little warmer than before, but he still held my gaze with an answering challenge. “She’ll tell us both what she wants soon, I’m sure.”

  I’d provoked him, I knew. My own tone was sharp in reply, as if I still commanded him, but I needed information from him, and I needed him to retain just some of that obedience and loyalty that he once had toward me. “The Bronzeman with me, Grien—did he survive the journey too?”

  There was another flash of emotion in Grien’s eyes, though maybe less than before. “The boy called Dax? He’s well enough, though I doubt he’ll ever be the man he once promised to be. The capture and incarceration has taken its toll on him. You must have seen that yourself, Maen. Did you wonder at the wisdom of bringing him back with you?”r />
  I was puzzled. “You think I shouldn’t have bothered? Surely he’s as much a part of our Guard as I, as much a citizen of the city and entitled to be returned in the same way. I couldn’t have left him to the Exiles.”

  “They’re barbarians!” Grien was roused now. “A man who’s been in their hands can never be the same. They despise and undermine everything we have here, everything that’s good and fine. I’ve seen what they did to you both! I’ve seen your injuries, Maen. They’re wild animals and should be loathed and exterminated as such.”

  “Yes,” I said in a low voice. “As you say. And me, Grien?”

  “You?”

  “Did you think it wise I should have returned too?” Did you feel such loss for me as you did for the fallen Silvers and Bronzemen?

  “Of course you had to return!” he exclaimed, and for that moment I imagined I saw his care and concern for me. “It’s a dreadful thing, the loss of a Gold Warrior. I don’t understand your tone, Maen, but I do appreciate the hideous ordeal you’ve been through. This has been too much for you, obviously. We can talk again later, when you’re more recovered. I’ll leave you now to rest.”

  He gazed at me, sure of his words, but as he turned to leave me alone in the barracks, I thought I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

  I didn’t dare to think what might reflect in my own.

  I STOOD in the Household armory, alone. The night was cold and my harsh breath made steam as I exhaled. In the distance I could hear the sound of a couple of Silver Captains laughing. Their voices grew louder as they passed the building. For a moment my gaze fixed on the heavy door as I tried to remember if I’d bolted it behind me. But they moved on without approaching, and my heartbeat slowed. Chilled through, my knee ached painfully, and because the scars on my torso had healed awkwardly, the skin was painfully tight whenever I twisted my body quickly. I wanted to sit and rest; I wanted to stay far away from the others.

  I wanted many things, but none of them were open to me now.

  And so I stood there, hiding like some coward in my own barracks, trying desperately to make sense of my first few days back at the city. I’d not been called by the Mistress, in any capacity, at any time. Grien had not allowed me back on active duty, nor was I a Gold Warrior anymore. I just rested and allowed my body to recover, the wounds knitting back together, my strength returning with good regular meals. I was in limbo: I had no direction, no purpose. I brooded.

  And I feared.

  The armory door opened with a heavy creak and I tensed, waiting to be discovered. By whom? What had become of me that I crept about the Household, limping slightly on my less than perfect knee, afraid of confrontation?

  Was this what I’d come back for?

  To my astonishment, the visitor was Dax. I’d not seen him since we both got back to the city, for by the time I was back on my feet, they’d taken him somewhere else and I didn’t dare ask for news of him, afraid my concern would give us both away. Now he was here, and the shock of his presence swept great waves of relief and pleasure through me.

  He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. I glanced at his hand, seeing the bandages much reduced and his weight taken against it almost as much as the other. But the set of his fingers was still awkward, the digits misshapen. It will never be as good again, I thought. I knew he’d never hold a sword again as firmly as he had, never have as sensitive a touch at a horse’s mouth.

  What’s happened to us both? What future do we have?

  “Maen.” He spoke my name, but it wasn’t to attract my attention, for he already had that. It was as if he wanted to hear it on his tongue again.

  “You can’t call me that here.” I sighed.

  His bright eyes glinted in the dim light of the room. “So what else will I call you? They don’t acknowledge you as Gold Warrior anymore. I don’t see you about the barracks, or on the training ground. Am I still to call you sir? Or have they already begun to abandon you?”

  “I won’t have you talking that way. I won’t allow it.”

  My gaze followed him as he stepped farther into the room, moving toward me. He looked so different here, back in the Household—less of a man and more of a boy—and suddenly I couldn’t see how anyone would ever consider him one of the Guard again. He’d never looked more out of place, more dispossessed. It was in his attitude, in his very movements—in the way he turned his head too sharply, in the way his eyes were slightly hooded and he clenched his hands too tensely at his sides.

  And the injuries… I couldn’t forget those.

  He was only a foot in front of me, and such was his recent growth that we were almost face-to-face. He wore casual clothing, just the vest and jerkin and trousers, and his hair was loose around his face. He looked a little wild; his speech was too aggressive for a Bronzeman. It reminded me of how he’d been when he first came to us. When he’d first come to me. It just confirmed my fears that they hadn’t allowed him into active duties, either. The fear hung as a thick, cold cloud around my heart.

  I reached out my hand and pressed a lock of his white-blond hair back behind his ear. It uncovered his cheek and the crisscross of scars that was healing well and yet would never be entirely gone. “How has it been, Dax? With the other soldiers?”

  “You can imagine, I expect,” he said. “Don’t play games with me. I can’t bear it if you return to treating me like the others.”

  “So. Not well, then,” I said a little dryly.

  He sighed and dropped his gaze. I saw the warmth of his breath as mist in the cool air of the armory. I smelled his scent, close to me. Memories assaulted me, like the enemies of my peace they undoubtedly were. And yet I felt my own heart open up and let them in.

  “They don’t know what to do with me or how to treat me. I disgust some of them, while others look scared. More than a few are desperate to ask me how it was, to ask me about the Exiles. I can see their eyes shining greedily when they look at me. Stupid men, that’s all they are! Even the Ladies look at me askance. And without word from the Mistress, Grien won’t let me participate in the training.” His gaze darted to my face, and there was such an anguished plea there, I felt the ache in my own bones. “They don’t know about us, Maen. That I’m sure of. You’re safe, aren’t you?”

  It was too much to bear. I was weak, both emotionally and physically, and the object of all my misery and desire was in front of me, his body a hand’s touch away, his need for me in every word he spoke. He’d been my comfort and my companion, and he’d been loyal to me—he’d suffered horribly for me. He’d been naked against me, and whispered strange, excited noises as I took him.

  He was all I had. All I wanted.

  I didn’t consciously remember moving forward, but I found myself pressing him back against the armory wall, grasping tightly around his upper arms, and then I was kissing him. My mouth was very fierce. It seemed so long since I’d tasted him like this, as if we were back at the Place, for my actions were too unruly for a Gold Warrior, yet I felt a rush of excitement and passion that was shockingly familiar. Dax’s tongue was fast in response. His hands lifted and gripped me in return.

  “This is real, isn’t it?” he gasped. “This will never be taken away from me. Nothing else matters. I’ll put up with anything for this.”

  I ran my hands down his arms and around his waist, and felt the muscles of his torso tighten in anticipation. I was very aroused, my hard cock pressing painfully against my trousers: my very nerves begged for him. “This is madness, lunacy. If we’re caught—”

  “Maen,” he murmured in my ear, and the lilt of my name in his voice was like music. “We’re caught already, aren’t we? Caught up in this. Let me touch you. I’ve not been allowed near you since we returned.”

  “But now?” My voice was nothing but a gasp. He reached greedily for the front of my trousers and slid his hands in against my cool skin. I’d never wanted anyone so quickly, so fiercely before.

  “I insisted they give me something to
do. I’m working in the kitchen, but the night’s supper is done and none of them have any instructions for my time beyond that. When I left, they assumed I was going back to the barracks or onto some other duties. But I knew you came here at night. You’ve done this for several days now.”

  “Someone told you?”

  “I’ve watched you,” he said simply. His lips brushed my neck. When his hand loosened the cord of my trousers and spread the opening wide to the evening air, I felt a ripple of surrender flow through me as smoothly as my own blood. “I have no other purpose now.” His hand curled around my cock, lifting it up into his palm, caressing it.

  I wanted to stop him, to reassure him that his career at the Household would be renewed, and to warn him he mustn’t be seen with me, a Warrior who now struggled to hold any status at all. Bernos would accept him into his Guard, I was sure, if Grien were unwilling. The wounds would heal, and he’d be fit again. He would be magnificent….

  The words fell away like dry sand in my mind even before I tried to speak them. I couldn’t even fool myself now. Meanwhile his mouth was on mine again, and he fumbled between our bodies to push down his trousers, stepping out of them so he was covered with nothing but his long shirt. When I reached down, I touched the muscles of his legs, felt the shudder of the flesh on his inner thighs, and savored the press of his hips against my uncovered skin. He panted harshly.

  “How will you take me, Maen? Shall I turn around against the wall? Or will you look into my face?”

  “I… can’t….”

  He ignored me. He turned inside the circle of my grasp until he faced the wall, and he leaned forward, bracing his arms against the bare stone. I slid my hands from his waist to his buttocks where his skin was tight with the chill and the anticipation. I traced the muscles I found there, reaching one of my hands around to the front of his groin to stroke him a few times in return.