Banebringer

by Carol A Park

  The guard was at the stairway to the upper floors. Banebringers weren’t supposed to leave the underground compound that served as their home by any other way than the secret entrance in the shed; it wouldn’t do to invite the curiosity of strangers should a Banebringer wanderer stumble across a guest or servant of Gan Barton.

  Invisibility was useful. The guard at the door was always bored, and tonight he was dozing against the wall, meaning Vaughn didn’t even have to create a distraction to open the door and slip by, which is exactly what he and Ivana had done, using his invisibility.

  Ivana stood away from him, hugging her arms around her chest and staring up at the moon. She was still wearing her robe over her nightshift—had stopped only to don a soft pair of shoes—and the night air was cool.

  But it was peaceful. The change in her countenance was visible. Her face smoothed, the hard lines at her eyes and mouth all but disappearing. She didn’t smile, but neither did she look as tense as she had earlier.

  It had never occurred to him that someone might deliberately do what he did for a reason other than creating aether. But now that it had, he understood it. There were days when he almost looked forward to replenishing his stash. He had always thought he was crazy.

  Then again, perhaps comparing himself to a killer wasn’t the best sign that he was sane.

  He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. He was never sure if the moonlight and night air relaxed him because he had some tenuous connection to an ancient moon goddess, or if it was only a personality quirk that made him prefer moonbeams to sunlight.

  He was still trying to digest what she had told him about his father and brother. It wasn’t that it was hard to believe—it wasn’t. As Vaughn had learned since his exile, his father cared about the family’s—or perhaps only his own—reputation more than anything else. He wouldn’t have cowed to a common man claiming that his eldest son had sired a bastard on his daughter. Offering compensation and support would have been admitting guilt, and Vaughn had known even as a child that his father never did that.

  As for the casual manner in which he dispatched Ivana’s father…

  A good judge of a man’s character was how he treated his servants. While his father hadn’t been overly cruel—beating them because he was angry about an unrelated matter, for instance—neither did he hold them in any regard. Ivana was right. They, and any commoner, might as well have been mice in the barn—or more likely, the cats that caught the mice. They served a purpose, but beyond that, their existence was inconsequential to him.

  His brother?

  Airell had been arrogant, selfish, and their father’s prized son in every way. Vaughn had never been close to him, and the constant comparisons between the eldest and the younger three by their father had done nothing to encourage brotherly affection on their part, and everything to encourage a sense of entitlement and conceit on Airell’s. It was because of Airell’s known taste for women—and a lot of them—that his father had thrown Vaughn’s former fiancée at Vaughn, hoping to cure what he had worried was a flaw in his masculinity.

  Ivana’s story, at least as it concerned his own family, was not only plausible, but entirely likely, on all points. That he had heard nothing about specifics to tie her story to events he knew was not noteworthy; his brother’s escapades were so accepted that at thirteen or fourteen, the age Vaughn must have been at the time, it would have been only another rumor among many, quickly dealt with and swept under the rug.

  That Ivana had been a victim, however…

  His gaze drifted to her, and he wondered. Wondered what had happened from there, after she had run. How she had ended up as an assassin, of all things. Whatever she might say, whoever she might be right now, it was clear to him that the person she once was, was not, in fact, dead. And he had an incredible urge to try and resurrect that person.

  The person who loved language and science and moonlight.

  She turned her head to glance at him, and he looked away. Not only because she never liked it when she found him staring at her, but also because the feelings stirring inside him were uncomfortable. Unwelcome. Downright frightening.

  He wasn’t supposed to feel anything, other than pure, unadulterated lust. It was why he never slept with a woman more than once.

  So much for that. That he hadn’t slept with her didn’t seem to matter in this case. Perhaps that was the most frightening part.

  “So not only have you given me advantages, you’ve now given me an escape route,” Ivana said softly, studying him.

  Vaughn looked over the edge of the stone half-wall that surrounded the balcony. They were at least fifty feet up. “I don’t know if scaling the manor wall from here would be particularly wise,” he said.

  Her eyes roved back and forth over the wall as if she were gauging the difficulty of the climb. “I’ve climbed worse,” she said. “But you’re right. And a sudden distraction could be disastrous.”

  “Trying to keep yourself invisible would certainly qualify as a distraction,” he reminded her. “It takes time to master before it becomes second-nature.”

  She paused, digesting that. “Any tips?”

  “Control,” he said. “Learning how much you need to burn to accomplish your goal and controlling your use of it accordingly. It’s the single most important aspect and hardest to master. But the last thing you want is to run out of aether in the middle of an escape attempt.”

  She turned to look back out beyond the manor. “Could we be seen up here?”

  He pointed to a spot on the wall. “There’s only one point where a sentry’s regular route would allow him or her to see into this particular spot, and they’re looking outside the walls for threats, not within.” As he spoke, a sentry strolled into just that spot. As expected, the sentry didn’t so much as glance in their direction. What possible reason could he have, after all, for watching the manor itself? When the sentry had left their line of sight again, Vaughn continued. “Unless, of course, something draws their attention.”

  “Like an escape attempt, perhaps?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Still,” Ivana said, stepping back. “Perhaps it would be better to go in rather than risk it. If I were seen up here…”

  Vaughn didn’t want to go in. He had never seen her so relaxed, and, for that matter, it had been a while since he had felt so relaxed himself. So instead, he stepped close behind her. “There are other ways to ensure we can’t be seen, if you’re concerned.” He placed one hand lightly on her waist and burned aether to make them both invisible.

  She stilled at his touch, and the tangible sign of her recognition of his proximity, whatever she thought of it, was enough to send a thrill through him.

  Ah… She smelled faintly of lavender, courtesy of the soap she had used while bathing, no doubt, and he had to stop himself from leaning in to take a deeper breath. He didn’t think she would appreciate it. At least, she wouldn’t admit it if she did.

  She didn’t draw back, however, and after a moment, she relaxed again.

  Perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t move away from him that encouraged him to say what he said next. “I’m not my brother,” he said softly.

  She shifted.

  He persisted. “Any woman who sleeps with me knows exactly what she is and isn’t getting from me. I would certainly never tell a woman I intend to bed that I love her.”

  She snorted. “No. Just that her scars, about which you know nothing, are like rivers of liquid pearl.”

  He blinked, momentarily confused. And then remembered. Ah. Right. He had bedded one of her women, hadn’t he? “Is that why you dislike me? Because I slept with one of your ladies? Or is it because I look like my brother?”

  “Ohtli is a grown woman,” she said, ignoring the latter comment. “If she wants to make stupid decisions, that’s her right. Might not leave her long in my employment, but I can’t pretend she couldn’t have said no.”

  Was it a compliment that she didn’t think he was a r
apist?

  “But perhaps if you understood a little bit more about her,” Ivana went on, “about how her desperation to see herself as more than the slime on the bottom of your boot has led her to seek the approval of men, any man, who would say something vaguely complimentary to her, you would have thought twice about it.”

  He refused to feel guilty. As Ivana noted, her “girl” was a grown woman, and she could have said no. “How can I know more about a woman if I only intend to have a casual encounter?”

  “How, indeed,” she said dryly.

  “Look—when you sleep with a woman long enough, she starts getting ideas,” Vaughn retorted. “My life is not one I can invite a woman into. How could I provide for a wife and an inevitable family? What I do is for their protection.”

  “You know what’s crazy?” Ivana responded. “I think you actually believe you’re being chivalrous.”

  “It isn’t about chivalry,” he said.

  She shifted again, tossing her head, and despite their argument, the wave of lavender that washed over him was intoxicating. “You’re right. It’s about protecting yourself.”

  So he wasn’t allowed to try and understand her, but she was allowed to analyze him? That hardly seemed fair. “That’s ridiculous. Women are like liquor to me. And that’s all there is to it.”

  He realized in hindsight that what he had said was far more revealing than he had intended it to be.

  She turned enough to look up at him, a wry look on her face. “That much is obvious.”

  He let out a long breath. He had intended to draw her out, and instead she had turned it around on him again. This conversation was long overdue for a subject change. “I’m sorry for what my father and brother did to you and your family. It wasn’t right.”

  She looked at him askance, as if knowing exactly what he was doing, and then turned back. “My own choices are what did this to me and what brought me to where I am and who I am. You don’t have to apologize for anyone.”

  He dared to ask. “Why, then, have you chosen this life? Do you enjoy killing?”

  “I feel nothing about it one way or the other.”

  Burning skies, how did one get to that point? “Then surely you didn’t choose anything. Whatever the circumstances were, I can’t imagine—”

  “There is always a choice,” Ivana said, her voice hard.

  “But that doesn’t make it who you are!”

  “My actions are what define who I am, and nothing else.”

  “So be someone different.”

  There was a long silence before she spoke, more softly. “There comes a point when redemption is simply no longer possible, Vaughn.”

  A sudden gust of wind blew, and it was cold. Ivana shivered, and Vaughn drew her closer against himself reflexively. There was no point in arguing with her further. “We can go in,” he said.

  She didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned again and tilted her head back to look up at him. “Perhaps that would be best,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, tight. It thrummed with tension left unexplained.

  He looked down into her eyes, and his entire body went taut as he felt the warmth of her own body beating into his own, felt the curve of her waist against his hand. Burning skies, he had never wanted a woman so badly.

  He let his hand slide up her waist, to her ribs.

  She closed her eyes and let out a long breath, and when she opened them again, her eyes were burning. And that was when he was finally sure. She didn’t mind his touch. She welcomed it. She was enjoying it, and had been all along.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Unmasked

  She ought to have killed him. She ought to have knifed him. At the least, she ought to have punched him.

  But Ivana didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she found herself tilting her head back farther, turning toward him more fully, leaning into his kiss. The tension that had been thrumming through her body since the moment he had stepped close to her demanded nothing less than full acquiescence.

  Then, when he pulled back far enough to look at her, as if to gauge her reaction, she had a moment for her brain to kick in.

  She stepped away before he could kiss her again, her mind and body both feeling like a raging, flooded river about to crest over its banks. This was not good. She had to escape, before she made a stupid decision.

  She had no excuse that wouldn’t sound like an excuse, so she merely said, “This was a bad idea, for many reasons. Good night.” And she turned, walked to the window, pulled it up, and climbed back through it, the way they had come. She had the sliver of aether with her; she hoped it worked.

  “Ivana,” he said from behind her.

  She ignored him, and again when he called a second time. If he called a third, she didn’t hear him. She was already on her way back down the servant’s stairs, safely, she hoped, invisible.

  Vaughn stared through the open window, one hand caught in his hair.

  He let go of his hair and slid the hand down to rub his face instead.

  She had kissed him back. She had kissed him back. He could still taste her lips, gods, as soft as he had ever imagined, her warmth leaning against him. And his heart was beating wildly at the surety that she wanted him, as well.

  Then why had she fled?

  A bad idea, she had called it. She wasn’t just referring to the risk of being caught. I’d recommend bedding her as soon as possible. That way I can be sure you’ll no longer be a potential ally, Yaotel had said. Was that it? Did she think he would bed her, and then no longer help her?

  Wouldn’t he? Yaotel’s words had stung, but they were true. Had been true.

  But…what if, just this once, what if, only with her, he allowed himself to enjoy something more? What if…

  It was a bad idea. He was already too emotionally invested in her. But Temoth, her lips…

  He wanted her so bad, it hurt. Would she take him, if he could convince her? Could she even be convinced?

  He glanced again at the window, wavering, his body urging him one way, and his mind warning him another.

  As usually happened, his body won.

  Ivana heard her name being softly called outside her door as she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, cursing herself for losing control, a failing she had an awful lot around Vaughn. She closed her eyes. Go away.

  He was persistent. “I know you’re in there. Don’t make me wake everyone.”

  She gritted her teeth, went to the door, and opened it a crack. “Go away,” she hissed. She tried to close the door, but he stuck his foot in it.

  “Just hear me out. Please.”

  Don’t let him in, foolish girl. Don’t do it.

  She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.

  “Ivana? I’m begging you.”

  She let him in.

  He closed the door and turned to face her. She hadn’t bothered to extinguish her lamp yet, and she could see his pupils, dark and large in the dim light, but he didn’t approach her.

  She hugged her arms to her chest. “What do you want?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, spreading his hands. “I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking.”

  “You’re forgiven. Now leave.”

  He stepped closer. “Ivana…can we be honest with each other?”

  Her throat tightened. “Absolutely not.”

  “I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted a woman before in my life.”

  She snorted, trying to force herself into apathy, even though his words made the throbbing worse. “That’s only because you can’t have me.”

  “Most likely.” He took another step toward her. She took a step back, and he stopped. “But unless I am mistaken…you want me too.”

  She swallowed. She wanted to deny it. Should have denied it and insisted that he leave again. But it was true.

  Somehow, he had cracked her walls and squirmed hi
s way through them. He knew more about her than even Aleena, the only other living person who might have a claim to understanding her—and that only because she was exceptionally perceptive, not because Ivana had opened herself to her.

  But Vaughn, he had given her a taste of what it might be like to be just Ivana again. She hated him for it, she feared it, yet longed to give in to it…

  He must have taken her silence for acquiescence, because he dared to take another step toward her. There wasn’t anywhere else for her to go, except to back into the wall behind her, so she didn’t move. He took another step, bringing him close enough to touch, and then into her personal space, close enough to lean forward and kiss again. Her heart started pounding.

  “Deny it,” he said, reaching out with his hand and laying the back of his palm against her cheek, let it slide down, and then turned it in time to let his fingers brush over her lips. “Deny it, and I’ll leave. I swear.”

  It was so unfair. Her lips burned at his touch, and she knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He was far too experienced not to. He was playing with her, making it harder for her to speak words she didn’t mean.

  Just say it. Make him leave and be done with it.

  “We don’t always get what we want in life,” she whispered instead.

  Despite his earlier apology, he leaned forward again and brushed her lips with his own. He could sense he was winning, damn him.

  “But when what we want is so easily in our grasp…” he murmured back against her lips, and then kissed her again, softly. “Why not take it?”

  “Because I need allies, not trysts,” Ivana choked out. He didn’t move, but let her words tickle his lips. She didn’t move either, though she knew it belied her statement.

  He pulled back again, far enough to look at her eyes. Something warred in his eyes, and a moment later, she knew what. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he said.