by Pippa Jay
“The joining of your hands represents your wish to join your lives together as one.” Once more, L’enko addressed Keir. “Speak your vows.”
“I promise to share all my life with you, in love and laughter, through tears and trials. To work by your side and dream in your arms. To fill your heart and feed your soul. To always see the best in you, and to love you always until the end of our forever.” As he spoke the words, he touched her mind, offered himself body and soul along with his vows, completely.
L’enko prompted Quin to speak, and for a moment her voice failed and she could only stare at him in silence. Panic flared briefly in Keir’s mind. That single mote of tension, of quiet, seemed to last forever. Then Quin spoke, and a sigh passed through the gathering as she mirrored Keir’s vows. Relief washed through him as each word brought them closer to unity.
With their promises given, L’enko wrapped a cord around their joined hands. “With your pledges given and with your hearts and minds as one, as your bodies will be one in union, I bind you now until the end of your forever.”
A loud cheer arose as Keir and Quin kissed each other shyly. The chief unbound their hands and bade them sit together as he proceeded with the rest of the ceremonies.
* * * *
Darkness had truly fallen before the crew of S’rano’s vessel returned, some wincing with newly bandaged torsos but all walking proud. With their triumphant return, the celebration increased tenfold, the village girls pairing up with the eligible young males. A village custom, S’rano had confided with a knowing grin.
The dancing became wilder, and with a nod of agreement from Keir, Quin took his hand and dragged him away to disappear into the trees beyond the village. They ran breathlessly into the darkness before collapsing in laughter in a small clearing.
Keir pulled her toward him and kissed her lightly. “I thought you might have changed your mind when you could not speak your pledge.”
She curled her hands around the back of his neck, threading her fingers through the curls gathered at the nape of his neck. “No. I’m not the kind of girl to dump my intended at the altar.” She kissed him again, quickly, no more than a brush of her lips against his. “But the way you said your vows, with such sincerity…” She sighed. “You made me feel breathless.”
“Quin…” His mouth sought hers, demanding, and she melted into his kiss, her body molding against his. Want coiled around him and he pushed her back, pushed her down so their bodies pressed together and her mind flowed into his.
“My love…” Her desire overlaid his, every thread of her pleasure at his touch echoed and reflected back, augmented.
“My heart and soul…”
They lost themselves in each other, reaching for ecstasy. Each kiss, each touch carried them to another level, a rising tide of pleasure. And, after a while, as joy poured through their veins and euphoria washed over them, that perfect moment of union came and carried them away as one.
Chapter 15
Keir lay awake some time later, staring up into the darkness in silent contemplation. Quin’s passion had been almost frenzied, alarming him with its intensity and desperation. It had seemed as if she sought to bind his soul to hers, a semblance of his self that could not be taken from her no matter what. Afterward, as her heart raced in time with his and with the touch of her hands still burning him, he had asked her why. His only answer had been her tears soaking his skin. He had stroked her hair until the tears were spent and she eventually fell asleep, her arm across his waist and both of them draped in her filmy sarong. Did she truly believe this was their last night together?
Her dark mood had infected him at last, and he held her tight, memorizing the way she felt in his arms, the scent of her hair and the sound of her breathing in sleep. His hands rested on her back, his fingers straying again and again to her scars, touching them with a shiver of something that felt like premonition.
Around their small clearing the sheltering greenery whispered in the faint sea breeze, enclosing them in a blanket of soft sounds and protecting them from the sharp edge of the wind. In the distance, he could hear the Metraxians celebrating still. L’enko had said it would continue until dawn, when morning would herald the start of the wraith hunters’ lives as true adults, by island tradition. It was possible the royal guard would also arrive with the new day and Keir wondered if Quin finally believed J’dahzi’s stark warning that the queen could no longer be trusted. Had T’rill betrayed Quin? What would the new day bring?
“Keir?” Quin murmured.
He buried his doubts and fears as he held her close, unwilling to lose precious time to his own bleak meanderings. A sudden silence fell in the distance as the first ray of morning light set the horizon aglow
“Dawn,” he whispered.
Quin sat up and stared into the fiery crescent of the rising sun, peering apprehensively between the bamboo stalks that shielded their secluded hollow, as if fearing the touch of light through the ridged stems. Abruptly, she turned and kissed him.
This time he did not respond. Instead, he seized her shoulders and held her back. “Quin,” he said sharply. “Stop trying to say goodbye to me. Is it death you have foreseen?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, and shook her head. “There are things worse than death.”
“Quin!” He sat up then, unable to keep the despair from his voice as he pulled her to him. “I swore last night to be with you until the end of forever. I would follow you even there.”
Trembling, she clung to him, her arms locked around his neck. As he held her, Keir’s mind flooded with panic at the stark possibility of losing her, of a life without her. Whatever danger lay ahead, he was determined to face it with her, no matter if it ended in victory or death.
Without warning, thunderous sounds filled the sky and a vast shadow blocked the morning light. Quin leaped to her feet and pulled her sarong loosely around herself as they both looked up.
The craft traveling overhead lacked the fluid elegance of S’rano’s ship but could have contained his vessel several times over. A cylinder of dark, burnished metal that gleamed bronze in the pale dawn, it had curved, blade-like wings that arched back along its length almost full circle. It skimmed over the trees, setting them shaking as it veered across the woodland and turned toward the sea, maneuvering to land. The idle surf was churned into a maelstrom of white as the craft settled noisily on the water, sending fine spray through the air. Water sloshed against its smooth sides to throw ripples of light across the featureless panels. Some of the villagers, the hardiest survivors of the night’s celebrations, stood scattered across the damp sands in watchful silence.
A descending whine split the air as the engines powered down and a long tongue of metal extruded from beneath an opening hatchway to touch the wooden platform of the docks. Crouched together, Quin and Keir looked on as a single figure emerged and stood at the end of the metal drawbridge before a double column of troops marched down either side, lining the edge of the docks where they met the beach. After a few moments of inactivity, L’enko and S’rano came hurrying down to the beach to greet them, to then be accompanied back to the chief’s house by the solitary soldier.
“Friend or foe?” Keir asked her.
She shook her head. “I can’t read their minds. It’s difficult with another species.”
“Should we go down?”
“If we don’t, they’ll come looking for us anyway. They know we’re here.”
In response, Keir withdrew into their hollow and hurriedly pulled on his clothing. Quin shook the sand from her sarong, then re-wrapped and retied the fabric with apparent reluctance. As she smoothed back her plaited hair, he tidied her makeup for her by wiping away the worst of the smudges before stealing a long, lingering kiss she tried to prolong. With a sigh he broke their contact and slid his fingers down her arm to take her hand, but she tugged him back.
“Keir, would you really follow me anywhere?” she asked earnestly.
“Of course.�
��
“We could try to make it back to the palace ourselves.” Her voice carried a hint of desperation.
For a long moment he stared at her, sensing her unease at facing the armed guards awaiting them at the docks. “How would we do that, Quin?”
“It would be a hard journey. A long one.”
“With all the world hunting for us, and who knows how many more sea wraiths we would have to fight?” he asked.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she sighed. “You’re right. I’m being stupid.”
“No,” he responded, dragging the word out in thought. “But if they take us back to the palace, I think the odds would be better. At least we would have a chance to reach the gateway home.” He touched her face and tried to reassure her. “You know I will never let them take you from me.”
“You’re not to risk your life for me. Promise me.”
“Even when that is what you have done for me?” he protested, frowning. “You believe because you have survived so much you are somehow immortal?”
Although not meant seriously, a strange expression crossed Quin’s face at his words– guilt mixed with pain. “Promise me,” she insisted, her voice hushed. “No heroics.”
Irritated, he nodded brusque assent.
She gave him a fleeting smile before leading the way down, back through the rustling bamboo groves and onto the damp, coral sand of the beach. Hand in hand, they passed the silent lines of troops and every eye watched them though no one made a move as they headed for L’enko’s house. Sensing Quin’s unease, he slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her close against him, placing himself between her and the legion of saurian guards.
The chief’s wife ushered them inside and L’enko and the captain rose to greet them. The visitor had his back to them–the pale-green scales of his head contrasting sharply with his red and black combat uniform–but, alerted by their movement, he also stood and turned.
“T’reno!” Quin cried in delight, darting forward.
Despite her warm welcome and obvious recognition, the green-skinned soldier remained impassive, dipping his head to be kissed without a flicker of emotion. Keir tensed. T’reno’s reaction seemed completely at odds with Quin’s greeting, as if he sought to deny any bond of familiarity between them. If he had not come as her friend, then as what?
“My lady,” T’reno said flatly.
Her face fell at his rigid formality.
“I’m glad to find you safe. I must take you back at once. The queen commands it.”
Uneasy glances were exchanged. Everyone appeared confused by the coolness of their reception and the underlying sense of hostility that seemed to fill the room. The village chief fidgeted in his distress and S’rano stood poised as if for combat, his expression wary.
“They must eat first–” L’enko began to protest, but a glare from T’reno silenced him.
“We must leave now,” T’reno insisted.
“Commander, do you consider Quin your guest or your captive?” S’rano demanded.
The officer turned to regard him austerely. “That is not your concern, captain. It is a matter of court. I am sorry if my manner offends but my queen was most insistent on Quin’s immediate return. We have been searching for nine days.”
“Of course,” replied Quin. “I’m sure T’rill was devastated to find us gone. We’re ready to leave.”
S’rano put a hand to the knife at his belt and caught Keir’s eye. The captain inclined his head toward T’reno and tapped the hilt of his blade. Clearly he had found the commander’s attitude as questionable as Keir and sought his permission to act.
But Quin had insisted on his compliance. Keir looked at S’rano and shook his head. He would not sanction violence from the islander. If Quin had no wish for a fight on her behalf, he would follow her lead as he had promised.
“Then we should go now.” T’reno bowed with a certain stiffness to the islanders. “The queen sends her gratitude and asks that you visit her at your convenience.”
“We’re honored,” S’rano replied, as courteous as one would expect of T’rill’s most skilled diplomats.
Quin smiled at them. “Thank you again, S’rano,” she told him, taking his hands. “I won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”
As she released him, Keir also took his hand and gripped it in thanks.
T’reno waited with impatience so ill-concealed it verged on the insulting, before escorting them out. Apparently still suspicious, S’rano followed, keeping his distance yet matching their pace toward the ship. Few villagers stood to watch their departure–the majority likely still sleeping off the night’s festivities–but Keir’s little blue friend was there, shouting excited farewells as he waved madly.
T’reno hurried them down the beach toward the dock and Keir wondered at his guarded expression, at the green eyes fixed on Quin as if he expected her to vanish by magic. As they neared the ship, he grasped her upper arm, almost dragging her along, and she stumbled as he pulled her off-balance. Keir opened his mouth to object to T’reno’s rough handling when the roar of a second craft swooping overhead split the sky. The soldier did not even look up, just yanked Quin’s arm even harder to increase their speed.
The second craft landed with alacrity, sending a wash of water up the beach toward them and discharging its crew with frightening speed. T’reno’s group was forced to stop as R’hellek emerged and marched over to confront them, accompanied by two armed guards. Despite the Minister’s seniority, the commander kept a firm hold on Quin.
“You are holding my prisoner, I believe.” R’hellek’s tone brooked no argument.
“Since when does the Minister of War take personal charge of prisoners?” T’reno returned, tugging Quin closer.
“Since when did I become a prisoner?” she demanded.
Keir grasped T’reno’s wrist and squeezed. “We are no one’s prisoners,” he told the Metraxians. “You will let her go. Now.”
T’reno glared at Keir but refused to slacken his hold.
“The queen is most insistent on Quin’s immediate return,” R’hellek snapped. “I was sent on this task, Commander, not you.”
“Yet here I am, R’hellek, ahead of you as always.”
The Minister lifted his hand, made a miniscule gesture with his fingers, and something in his eyes, something in the way they flicked to Quin, made Keir’s blood run cold. He leaped forward and shoved her to the sand an instant before R’hellek’s guards opened fire. The shot caught him low on one side and he dropped to the ground in agony, his head filled with her scream of denial. T’reno was hit high in the shoulder, throwing him onto his back.
Above them the sky exploded with light as weapons were discharged on both sides Talons of flame clawed their way through his abdomen and his breathing stuttered. He turned his head to watch Quin as she crawled frantically toward him, calling his name. He wanted to reach for her, desperate to touch her, but could no longer raise his arms. A warm wetness spread through his clothing and pain followed, swift and sure, then bled out, leaving nothing but his need for Quin. And then even that faded.
* * * *
“No! Keir!”
As Keir’s eyes drifted shut and his presence faded from her mind, Quin reached for him, still screaming her anguish.
Don’t die! Oh, Powers, don’t let him die! Keir…
Before she could reach him, something yanked her backward by her hair, and she yowled, twisting. R’hellek had hold of her and tried to drag her away. She clawed at the sand, but his talons were hooked into her braids and she couldn’t get free. She dug her feet and hands into the gritty surface of the beach, hoping to at least slow him down. When that failed, she grasped a handful instead and drew back her arm to throw.
In that same instant, his grip faltered and came loose and she was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Quin whirled to see the Minister and S’rano locked together. For a moment, S’rano–with youth and the element of surprise on his side–seemed to have the up
per hand, but the Minister was a trained soldier with a lifetime’s experience of war and the captain soon lost his advantage as they rolled together in the sand. R’hellek was unarmed and both wrestled fiercely for control of S’rano’s blade. The elder’s greater weight enabled him to pin the younger man onto his back and force his arms down, gravity aiding his cause. S’rano’s intervention earned him a gash across his chest–the red line contrasting sharply against his blue scales–before he managed to twist the knife free and shove R’hellek aside. The blade flashed once and the Minister lay dead.
Quin scrabbled back across the sand on hands and knees, panic choking her. Keir lay so still, eyes closed and a dark stain spreading across his stomach, deathly black against blue. Crimson splashes decorated the sand where rivulets of blood had trailed down his side.
The battle dimmed and died around her, a background blur of sound and motion. She stretched out a hand, shaking, tears crowding her eyes.
“Keir?” She brushed his cheek…and his eyes fluttered open.
“Keir!”
He groaned and one hand caught her wrist. “It is all right,” he told her, his voice shaking and breath coming in ragged gasps.
Quin leaned over him. The shot had ripped a hole in his side that pulsed fresh blood to join the growing pool, the edges of the wound blackened.
Hades! She took his hands and pressed them to the injury, covering them with her own. It yanked a hoarse cry from his lips and guilt stabbed her. “I’m so sorry, Keir, but we’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
“It is all right,” he repeated, but he sounded weaker this time and his pain tore at her.
Arms seized her and she turned to fight, but it was only T’reno, his face pale and twisted in pain.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but we must move,” he told her, tugging at her arm.
“I’m not leaving him,” she snapped.
S’rano appeared at her side, sheathing his knife. Blood oozed over his wraith tattoo but he seemed unaffected by it. “I will take him, Quin,” he offered. “We must get to shelter.”