Twice Blessed

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  “It’s going well, I think. I’m hardly qualified—”

  “Hardly qualified?” Channon laughed, the sound deep and appealing, though his shadowed blue eyes remained untouched by humor. “Rayna, you defeated the Maenoren Overlord. You may not have trained as a warrior, but no one would suggest you aren’t qualified to call yourself one.”

  “I know, but,” she paused, remembering the years she and Channon had trained together, “I miss hunting sometimes.”

  He reached for her, pushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. The warmth in his fingertips set her stomach fluttering.

  “You know you’re always welcome. We could use you.”

  Rayna loved hunting, especially with Channon, but in the months since her return to Fenear, something had changed. The quiet patience of the hunt used to steady her. The heart-pounding final moments had thrilled her. But now, she could not find the necessary peace within herself to commit to hours of planning and waiting. Where silence had once calmed her, now it allowed space for her mind to wander. She would think of Bayne: his final moments, his blood coursing through her fingers. Or of Rhael, the demonic Da’ Gammorn, and the hellish realm from which she'd saved Channon. She would see Gabriel Garrison in the shadows of trees, remember the helplessness of the Monil, and feel Coer’s knife dragged across her abdomen.

  The silence was no longer safe. Instead, Rayna found peace—or, at the very least, distraction—in honing her fighting skills.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll remember that. How’d it go today?”

  His face fell. “We didn’t catch anything. I tracked a rabbit, but it was a young one, and there are so few left.”

  Neither spoke what they were both thinking. There had been a shortage of food all winter because of the extra mouths they’d had to feed during wartime. Their stores had been all but depleted. Spring had arrived, but the herds had yet to fully return thanks to the destruction Rhael had wrought. Mina and Roxen's squirrels were something of a miracle.

  Rayna examined the lines of Channon’s face. It was more gaunt than it had been in their younger days. He was haunted, his once sun-kissed skin had turned more ashen, his cornflower-blue eyes, stormy. He was still handsome beneath his bristly face, but all the boyishness was gone.

  “I was thinking,” Rayna said to break the silence, “perhaps the hunters could head east, to the Laureline river by the Alvornian border and try to catch some fish. I know fish isn’t exactly our top choice, but it is meat.”

  “That’s a good idea. We’ll talk to Silver. And I meant what I said. You should join the party, too. You and I never failed to bring back something when we hunted together.” Channon smiled in a weak imitation of his old grin, but Rayna returned it anyway.

  “I’ll have to speak with Katrine about it, but I’m sure Mina can take over for a couple days.” A few moments of silence passed.

  Channon moved forward, placing his rough palm on Rayna’s wrist. “You’re cold.” He covered her hands with his own. “Don't you know you'll catch a chill walking around in wet clothes?”

  “There’s still a trace of winter in the air.” Rayna glanced away from Channon’s intense blue gaze. He’d never used to look at her like that. Or rather he had; she'd just failed to notice.

  “Sometimes it feels as if the winter will never end.” He tilted his head to catch her eye. His hands slid up her arms.

  Every hair stood up as he passed over them. It was a feeling unlike any other, when he touched her. Despite the chilly air, she felt warm right down to her toes. Her stomach turned weightless, and she could not help but wrap her arms around his shoulders.

  “Channon…” Rayna breathed in his scent as his arms circled her waist.

  His heartbeat sped to match hers as his palms found the small of her back. “Ray?” His muscles tensed as she tugged him closer. “You know, when you hold me like that, I get the feeling you want me to do this.” He pushed forward, leaning her against an oak tree.

  Rayna let loose a tiny noise of surprise. She felt Channon’s hot breath as his lips hovered by her cheek. They'd been walking along this cliff in their relationship for months, but now it seemed that Channon was ready to dive off into the unknown depths below. The question was, would she join him?

  “Rayna, was I right?” he asked as she looked up at him. He had her confined, his chest against hers, their legs aligned, his arms pressed on either side of her.

  Rayna met his gaze. His pupils dilated. In the low forest light, she could barely see his thin cornflower-blue irises, only the pure black that she'd seen before in the eyes of monsters--most memorably in Coer’s eyes, or at least, in the eyes of the demon that had stolen his body. She shuddered, and Channon jumped back, releasing her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…” He clenched and unclenched his fists, taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s all right. It wasn’t you.” Rayna stretched out against the cold bark. She smoothed her hands on her leggings. After a moment she forced herself to look at him and show him that she was not upset. After all, why should she be? He'd done nothing wrong. He had just reminded her of something that she wanted to forget. Something she wanted to stomp out like a fire. And yet, no matter how hard she stomped, it burnt on.

  As she searched for the words to explain her reaction to Channon, he rocked back on his heels, pivoting and turning his head. He could hear someone approaching. Rayna scented roses and yew. Mina had returned already?

  Mina waved as she broke from the tree line. In her hurry, she'd cut straight through the forest instead of taking the trails. “Rayna, Channon, you need to come with me. Silver wants to see all three of us, and she says it's urgent.”

  With a shared glance, Rayna and Channon hurried after Mina.

  “Did she say what it was about?” Channon asked.

  “No, but she looked worried.”

  Mina sprinted ahead, and the Fenearens followed.

  As Rayna ran, she realized she was thankful for Mina’s interruption. As much as her body screamed to be alone with Channon, her mind was too wrapped up in all they'd been through to risk any major decisions now. Channon was safe. He was in her life again. That was enough—at least until the residual shock of war and loss faded and she'd healed her broken dreams. Only after that could Rayna allow herself to consider what it would be like to leap off that cliff with him.

  Chapter Three

  Kado Aronak was accustomed to blood on his hands. He knew well how the warm, viscous liquid turned cold and dried to a brown, flaky stain. As he followed the guards through Krymammer prison’s mildewed hall, he told himself this was no different. Lonian Kemar’s lifeblood coated his hands, shoulders, and chest. His captors never bothered to clean him up; the less they touched him the better. No, that task would be left to him and his sad little basin in his sad little cell. At least the fighting was over, for now. The journey from the stadium to Krymammer prison meant he would have a week's rest, maybe more. They could not drag him out too regularly, lest he lose his novelty and they would have to start charging less for tickets to see the bestial Fenearen freak gutting slaves and prisoners.

  But no matter what he told himself, Lonian had been different. Kado had not killed him. As Terayan had reminded Kado, The Sylrian had killed himself. Why?

  Killing to survive, Kado understood. It was all he'd known for the past year and a half since he'd been purchased by the Councilor and forced into the fighting pits. But killing to save a stranger? What possible gain was there in that?

  Why had Lonian sacrificed himself so willingly for him, Kado Aronak? He was not worth it.

  They reached his cell block. The guard holding the keys shook so badly it took him several tries to unlock the barred door. Kado did not bother to stifle his laughter. The Monil was back on. Why were they still so afraid?

  Eventually the guard managed to open the cell, and Kado walked in without prompting. The guards slammed it shut and left, eac
h sighing in relief. What had these men done to warrant such an unsavory task as escorting him? Perhaps they’d drawn lots.

  Still laughing humorlessly, Kado turned to his accommodations. A straw pallet lay in the right corner, a chamberpot in the left, with a rusted basin and rag beside it. Kado knelt and scrubbed his hands with the soap nub provided. The water quickly turned pink, but he kept scrubbing. He did not want Lonian’s blood on him any longer, a constant reminder that someone had shown him—what? Pity? Mercy? Love?

  The last thought was in a voice not his own. Kado slammed the basin away, spilling reddish water all over the dirty flagged floors. Only one person had ever loved him. And she was dead, because of him. He deserved no more.

  “Damn you, Kemar,” Kado growled, pacing his cell.

  The door to the cell block flew open. Heat and light seared Kado’s eyes as every torch along the hall flickered to life. Several more guards, these bearing the twin ravens of the council, entered the room dragging an old man between them. Behind them strolled a man in scarlet robes. A golden circlet ran through his close-cropped blond hair, catching the firelight. Councilor Terayan, poised to torture Kado, again.

  Kado approached the cell door. He wrapped his still dirty fingers around the bars.

  One of the guards opened the cell next to Kado’s and the other tossed the prisoner in. The old man grunted as he hit the stones. Kado’s gaze followed the councilor as he entered the cell behind the prisoner. What was going on? Kado had always been left alone when in his cell block.

  “Well, Isaac,” Terayan gestured around them, “what do you think of your new quarters? Perhaps some time as Aronak’s neighbor will help you reconsider your position.”

  The prisoner struggled to his feet. He was taller than Terayan, though he stooped, clutching his ribs. A shock of white hair framed his wide, well-lined face. “I told you, Tallis. I do not have the information you seek.” His voice was calm, cultured, as if he were speaking to an acquaintance at a dinner party.

  “Then perhaps this will stimulate your memory.” Terayan turned to the exit. He addressed a guard. “Bring his things. Isaac will be staying here for some time, I think. We wouldn’t want a nobleman to be uncomfortable.”

  “Tallis.” To Kado’s surprise, the prisoner—Isaac—touched the councilor’s arm through the bars. “Please, this mad quest of yours will destroy us all.”

  Terayan smiled, his green eyes finding Kado. “The unworthy, perhaps. You have chosen your side poorly, old friend.” He turned and a strange gold light flashed in his eyes. The fire’s reflection?

  Isaac jumped back with a cry, clutching his hand as if burned.

  Terayan’s laughter echoed throughout the cell block. He left as a guard returned with a stack of books, piece of chalk, and a slate. The man pushed the materials into Isaac’s cell before locking it and leaving with the others. Kado and Isaac were alone.

  Curiosity eased Kado to the barred wall he shared with his new neighbor. “Are you hurt?”

  Isaac flexed his hand. A spidery scar coated the back of his palm. “A parlor trick,” he said in the same soothing voice. He stood, collecting his books, slate, and chalk.

  Kado eyed the old man's belongings. “Why do they let you have such things?”

  “Being born in the upper class brings its share of privileges, even in prison. But I’m far more interested in you, dear boy.” Isaac grinned, lines deepening around his pale blue eyes.

  “Me?” Kado backed away from their shared wall.

  “I gather the good Councilor placed me beside you as some form of punishment or intimidation.”

  “Because I’m a killer.” Kado willed his voice flat.

  “So they say. And yet, the first words you say to me are ones of concern.” He stacked his books carefully, in some intentional order. A ring on Isaac’s unmarked hand caught Kado’s eye. The tarnished gold circle bore a dull but impressive red stone at its center.. They let him keep jewelry?

  “Who are you?” Kado asked.

  “Ah, yes. Such a simple question, but those are often the toughest to answer, are they not?”

  “They said your name was Isaac.”

  “So why ask a question for which you already know the answer?” Isaac dusted off the slate, leaning it against the stack of books.

  “I don’t know.” Something about the man’s lackadaisical attitude both unnerved and appealed to Kado.

  “Then you are a wise man, indeed. The first step in wisdom is admitting to that which you do not know. The next step is to seek the answer. And, as I was the one to pose the question, may I humbly suggest such an answer?”

  Kado nodded.

  “We ask questions to which we already know the answer for many reasons: doubt, malice, but chiefly among them, in my opinion, is fun.”

  “Fun?” Kado snorted. “What’s fun about asking questions?”

  Isaac laughed. “Perhaps not as wise as I’d hoped, then.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Have you ever riddled, dear boy?”

  “Riddled?”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Allow me to demonstrate.” He cleared his throat. “I am a beast that growls and aches the longer I stay, but to defeat me, you need only to feed me until I shrink away. What am I?”

  A beast that you killed by feeding? What was the old man talking about? As if in answer, Kado’s stomach rumbled. “Oh,” he said, an odd feeling spreading over him. “Hunger.”

  Isaac clapped his hands together. “Excellent! You will prove an able pupil indeed!”

  Kado turned away. “Pupil? What are you talking about, old man?”

  Kado’s attempted insult did not attenuate Isaac’s enthusiasm. “We’re stuck here, you and I—at least until Terayan realizes placing me next to you isn’t the punishment for which he’d hoped. We might as well make good use of our time. Now, tell me, can you read?”

  Kado drifted back toward the cell wall. Isaac’s blue eyes were so bright they seemed to glow. “I can read. I grew up on a ship. My fa—” he cringed at his word choice. “I was taught to read maps, charts, and an atlas. Why do you care?”

  “I’m a teacher. I’m afraid caring is rather a habit of mine. I gather you understand sailing and geography, but what else did your sailor’s education include?”

  Kado frowned. He'd not been a sailor, that implied freedom. He might have grown up aboard a ship, but he had not been free. “Fighting,” he shrugged, “sleight-of-hand.”

  Isaac arched a single white brow. “I was thinking more along the lines of arithmetic, history, or logic. How would you like to learn that?”

  The odd feeling returned to Kado. Hope? Excitement? Whatever it was, he'd not felt it in a long while. Still, this kindly old man seemed too good to be true.

  Kado hated almost everything about his wolf nature. He appreciated the detachment the Monil provided, but one wolfish trait he did like. His instincts were rarely wrong. If Isaac seemed too good to be true, he probably was.

  “No. I don’t want to waste my time practicing sums. What’s the point? I’m a killer. I’ll kill until someone returns the favor. There’s nothing else for me in this life.”

  Isaac grasped the bars, straightening to his full height. He was more than a head taller than Kado. Isaac’s dull red ring clinked against the metal bars. “This life, your life, every life, do you know what they are? They’re stories. All your life is, is the story you tell yourself, and one day—if you’re very fortunate—the story others tell of you when you’re gone.

  “So if you say violence and death is all that awaits you, if that is the way you choose to end your story, I cannot help you. But here’s the secret, dear boy: within every one of us, lives a story-teller, someone with the power to shape their own reality. You have to listen to him when the time comes, make the right choice, and seize the opportunities that lead to the story you want. This is one such moment. So choose. Will your life’s work be a tragedy or...” He gestured to his books and slate. “A hero’s journey?”

  Kado bl
inked. His mother used to tell him stories of her Fenearen homeland to help him They were myths full of magic, talking animals, gods, and heroes. But his mother's life had been a tragedy ever since Kado had entered it.

  “I’m not worth it,” he whispered. “I’m nothing.”

  “I don’t care what you are now,” said Isaac. “I care about what you could be one day.”

  Kado did not know what to say. It had been so long since someone had shown him kindness. Now in only a day's time, Lonian Kemar had given his life for him, and Isaac wanted to help him better himself. Again Kado wondered if this were some kind of trick, but what did Isaac have to gain? Kado’s gaze fell to the stack of books, reading the cracked, dusty spines.

  “There, now that I’ve piqued your curiosity.” Isaac grinned. “How about another riddle? I find them the perfect prelude to any lesson.”

  Kado gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “What has an eye but cannot see?”

  “A one-eyed blind man?”

  Isaac laughed. “True, but not my intended response. Let me add another descriptor: it draws blood with one touch, but can heal with more.”

  No response came to Kado’s mind. How could something hurt with one touch, but heal with more? That did not make any sense, and what did any of it have to do with an eye?

  “Have I stumped you already?”

  Kado’s cheeks burned. He wanted to find the answer. He did not know why he sought Isaac's approval, but he did.

  “Never fear. I won’t give it away yet. Shall we sharpen our minds with some arithmetic in the meantime?” Isaac chose one of the heaviest books he had and picked up the slate.

  Soon they were lost in a world of shapes, symbols, and numbers. The work was familiar, though the words were not. What Isaac called geometry, Kado had learned on charts and maps. As Kado sketched a triangle, memories flooded over the gates he'd built. Kado remembered sitting on his father’s knee, and seeing his mother’s loving smile—so proud of her little navigator. Kado had been a slave, though he'd not understood the concept then. He'd been born property, but as the son of one of the slavers, he had known a life much softer than most. Sure, he'd worked twelve hours a day or more since he could walk, he’d had barely enough to eat, had endured harsh punishments for minor offenses, but he'd not been separated from his mother, Quella.