“Ah-ha. I win.” How completely absurd! He had known all along. It was a set-up. Her face must have reflected her shock, because Byron took pleasure in it. “Now then, my kiss?”
She wanted to wipe the grin from his face. Instead, she worked up the courage to speak. “Your nerve, sir. You cannot be serious. A kiss? I am a lady!”
He chuckled. “And I, a man. You speak to me of nerve. Ha! Nerve! You of all people should know about nerve, for it took you a great deal of nerve to get here, Lady Tamara.”
Her heart raced. His use of her real name removed all question from the predicament. He knew exactly who she was, exactly which lord she ran from. And he could very easily reveal that information to anyone, but he promised, he promised a game for silence.
As if reading her mind, he spoke. “The game is not complete until you deliver on your end of the bargain.”
She was appalled. “On the lips?” she asked, stalling.
“Absolutely.”
She felt the color drain from her face. She had never kissed anyone, except her father and mother on the cheek. She saw her older brothers sometimes, when they thought she wasn’t looking, sneaking away with some of the ladies, kissing them on the lips. The thought made her uncomfortable when she recalled the way their mouths moved. How did they do that? It looked awkward, and even a little gross.
“Well?”
Her heart sank. She was compromised. Defeated. Her mind was spinning, her stomach fluttering, her heart pounding. She would make it quick, nothing like what she saw her brothers engaged in. A simple peck would do.
Standing upon the tips of her toes, she could barely reach his face. She tilted her head up. His eyes closed, hers did not. Quickly, very quickly, she touched her lips against his. Prickles like needles spread across her skin and into her mouth. Embarrassed, she backed away from him like a wounded animal, nearly tripping on her own feet. She was scandalized for what he’d made her do. Yet, she did not dislike it, only the thought of it.
The tingles were still there too, like sparks from a fire, but not painful. Was the sensation imagined? She touched her lips. No wonder people liked kissing. But she was a lady: A lady should not think such wicked thoughts.
She looked up at Byron. He smugly regarded her, happy with his little trick. There was something else in there in his gaze, something warm, something affectionate. It struck her off guard.
“Thank you, my lady.” He sounded as surprised as he looked. She wanted to hate him for putting her through this, for tricking her, for the power he held over her. But it was difficult, especially when her heart fluttered under his gaze.
“You need not thank me, sir. It was your trickery, after all, that earned you a kiss.”
A mischievous grin materialized upon his features. “I suppose so. You will attend the Ceremony later today?” She nodded, but continued to watch him with narrowed eyes. If she acted mad, perhaps he would see the error in his ways. “Wonderful. I am glad to hear it.” With that he bid her good day and bowed, then he departed whistling a happy tune.
46
Fort Squall
Tamara walked arm in arm with Sophie out of the fort to the field where the Touching Ceremony was to be held. They both cleaned up well, though she had little more than rags to present. Sophie, however, looked stunning in her burgundy gown.
She longed to tell Sophie about her encounter with Byron, what he made her do, how he tricked her. Since the kiss, her face burned red without ceasing. Her mind continued to replay the moment. It was most confusing! How unfair for a silly kiss to affect her so, compromising her composure, consuming her mind, especially on an important day like today.
His act was shameless, brazen, far from discreet. Anyone could have seen them. She shuddered to think of it. One thing was certain: He had no Rider. No Drengr would betray his mate with a kiss. That meant she would see him at the ceremony. The thought of facing him after such an intimate moment left her gritting her teeth.
“Amber, do you not agree?” Sophie pulled on her arm, recapturing her attention. She pushed Byron from her mind.
“I do apologize, Sophie. What did you say?”
“I said, I hope Lara and Kiviana fail today. They deserve it.”
She could only nod as they traipsed through the grass. It nipped at her ankles. Before them, the field stretched onward until it met the city walls of Squall’s End.
A rush of wind rustled her hair. The sun briefly disappeared. Giant shadows danced along the ground. She turned her gaze skyward and gasped. Her surprise was echoed by others walking out. Drengr circled above them, many with Riders and some without. They descended in lazy spirals, their wings outstretched, heading directly for the empty grassland.
Her stomach lurched into her throat, leaving her nauseous. She watched the Drengr settle on the field. Those without Riders kept their form. The others became human and walked to the outskirts with their mates. She and Sophie stopped to witness the spectacle.
“I do not think I can do this, Sophie,” she whispered, growing more nervous by the minute. Twenty Drengr, statuesque in their hulking forms, waited for the Ceremony to begin. Their different colors glinted in the sun. She saw several shades of blues and greens, a few reds, oranges, a purple, a bronze, and a white.
Pressure mounted within her chest. She took several deep breaths, trying to steady her thoughts. A terrifying realization nearly knocked the wind from her. In the next few minutes, her future would be decided. Just when she believed she had ultimate control over her life, just when she thought leaving Redport afforded her authority over her path, she discovered how wrong she was. Fate was the making of Riders, and no one was capable of commanding fate.
Sophie took her hand and squeezed. “You can do this, Amber. Breathe,” she coaxed. “I am nervous too. But we will never know until we try. Remember? We must try!”
“We must,” she whispered weakly.
“Come on.” Sophie pulled her towards the assembling line. Everyone was silent. The very air was tense as a taut string ready to snap. Several hopefuls were permitted forward into the large area where the Drengr sat waiting. They apprehensively stumbled towards the gathered Drengr, uncertain and fearful, just like her. With wide eyes, she stood motionless as she watched the event unfold.
The hopefuls walked from one Drengr to the next, stopping at each to lay a hand upon their scaly hides. It took about five minutes for the group of four to move through the field. Nothing happened. Realizing their failure, they left with tear-streaked faces, huddled within each other’s arms, taking their sobs with them.
She glanced behind her; the line of terrified faces had grown. Many looked more frightened than she. That steadied her. Tamara of Redport was no coward. Squaring her shoulders, pretending she was unafraid, she ignored the mounting tension in her muscles, until a new uneasiness worked its way to her surface, not nearly as potent as her fear of failure, but still viable. One of the Drengr on the field was Byron, but which one? If she knew, she might avoid him. Unfortunately, she hadn’t the vaguest idea. Her face burned hotter just thinking of him.
A joyous cry caught her attention. Sophie squeezed her hand. Out on the field, a Drengr transformed. It wasn’t Byron. This one had black wavy hair cropped just above his ears. He was fondly stroking the hair of a woman who gazed adoringly into his eyes. The exultation upon their faces left her speechless.
“They are mates,” Sophie breathed. “I can hardly believe it. Look how happy they are.”
Cheers split the tense silence.
“All right, the four of you may proceed.” The voice could have been leagues away. Caught up in the unfolding scene, she was dimly aware of Sophie’s pull on her hand. When Sophie moved away from her, she snapped from her trance and found herself walking out onto the field. She was in a dream. Her legs had a mind of their own, taking her to the nearest Drengr. She wanted to turn and run, but she no longer had a say in the matter. Even the hand she extended was hardly familiar as some force within her took
over. The Drengr she touched was deep purple in color, and majestic in every way.
She sucked in a breath. His glassy scales were incredibly warm, almost enough to burn her hand. She held it there against him, feeling the hardness beneath her soft skin. The first moment was exhilarating. In truth, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Only when his giant head swung around to regard her did she realize she was lingering longer than necessary. This one was not meant to be her mate. Disheartened, she nodded respectfully and moved away.
The next Drengr was a dark red with an underbelly that blended to orange. He was beautiful. More hesitantly this time, she laid her hand upon him. Like the rest, the Drengr was huge; she could only reach the mid part of his belly where his scales changed color. He felt no different: extremely warm to the touch with scales of glass. Nothing happened. This time she did not need prompting. She withdrew, more discouraged than before.
Over and again she tried her luck, only to have the sinking feeling in her chest grow stronger. Midway through, a dark blue Drengr experienced a stomach rumble the instant she touched him. She gasped in surprise, thinking this was her moment. Then she remembered what Sophie said. Minds become one when a bond is unveiled. Her shoulders sagged with defeat and her throat constricted.
“You will not cry, Tamara Redwynn.” She whispered the command, moving to the next Drengr.
There were two candidates left to try when she made her way to the far side of the field. There she approached a Drengr bigger than most. His scales were icy blue, just like her eyes. She regarded him with curiosity and he did the same, turning his saucer sized eyes on her. They were a familiar gold, with black slits for pupils. Could it be?
She stopped beside him. He swiveled his giant neck around to see her better. The scrutiny made her breathing difficult. His head alone was as long as her body and as wide as her arm span.
She stood motionless, her hand hovering over his hide. Already she could feel the intense heat radiating from his scales. It warmed her skin. If she never touched him, she wouldn’t face defeat. But if she did…
Turning her head, she met his calm gaze, losing herself within the gold of his eyes. There was no impatience there. He fostered no amusement witnessing her inner struggle. Sophie’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of what she needed to do. “We must try!” Sophie’s voice coaxed. “We must try!” The words repeated. Sophie was right: She would never know until she tried, and try she would!
Taking a deep breath, stretching her lungs until they burned, she brought her hand down upon the Drengr. The world fell away in an instant. The ground crumbled beneath her. Nothing in space existed, not even time. Her mind was wiped free of fear, free of apprehension, free of failure. Then bliss, powerful and penetrating, radiated through her being.
Recognition doused her senses, pouring over her like a bottle of perfume. Familiarity seeped into her soul, imprinting itself. It was the kind of familiarity that came from smelling a rose for the thousandth time, or looking upon a face she’d known her entire life. It was an immense understanding that originated from nowhere and everywhere all at once. She exhaled her large breath. It was unclear if her cry of jubilation was uttered within her mind, or without.
Flashing pictures that lasted for seconds, thoughts, memories, ideas, all trickled through her mind simultaneously. They were unfamiliar, yet she knew them, these things she never experienced, faces she had never seen, wonders that were incomprehensible. They weren’t hers, but they were hers, all at once. Two minds had become one.
A single existence swam into her consciousness. She knew this Drengr, she recognized his heart, she relished in his familiarity. He was a part of her. Everything she felt was echoed within him.
“I have found you at last.”
Yelping with surprise, she withdrew her hand. The voice in her mind was Byron’s. Opening her eyes, she no longer saw the icy blue Drengr, but Byron himself. Before she could express her astonishment, her excitement, her pleasure, he scooped her up in his arms, laughing joyously. He twirled her around until she was dizzy. When he at last set her down, she could scarcely stand.
Her ears were ringing from the defining cheers of the crowd. She was hardly aware of it as she gazed at Byron’s face in wonder. Two figures descended upon them. She recognized the fort leader and his mate.
“Father!” Byron cried. The two men hugged. “Can you believe it? It was her all along, she was the reason I felt so strangely!”
“Lord—Lord Davi is your father?” she squeaked, taking several astonished steps back. How did she miss the connection? They looked nearly identical.
Byron smiled down at her. “Lady Tamara, allow me to introduce my mother and father, Lord Davi and Lady Emmiline, Fort Squall’s leaders.”
She stammered a greeting, embarrassed by her ignorance, then curtsied.
Lord Davi’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. “Wait a minute. Is this the Lady Tamara? As in the missing lady who has everyone in an uproar?”
“The one and only.” Byron’s grin was smug.
His father did not take the news with the same complacency. “Her parents have been very worried, sending out search parties, offering a handsome reward for her rescue. Lord Rhal has done the same. I am told she is his betrothed?” Lord Davi looked to her for the answer. “Is that true, Lady Tamara?”
She glanced at Byron. His face hardened with the mention of marriage. She wished she could still feel what he was thinking. For some strange reason, their minds were no longer connected. Why was that?
Turning to Lord Davi, she answered. “Yes, sir. Lord Rhal was my intended, but the match was made against my will.”
“Matches usually are where politics are concerned,” Emmy muttered, showing clear distaste for the practice.
“This could make things difficult,” Davi said, though he did not seem entirely upset. She breathed a little easier.
“Match or not, Father, it is water under the bridge. She is my mate. The bond has been unveiled. I would not part with her for anything.” Byron reached down and took her hand in his—a protective gesture. She felt tingles erupt on her skin. Her face heated, and she was forced to look away from him.
“We would never ask you to give up your mate, my dearest.” Byron’s mother stepped forward, placing a hand upon his arm to calm him. “It would be unthinkable. Fear not, your father will settle the matter.” Emmy radiated happiness. “We are so very proud of you, my son. So proud.”
“Thank you, Mother.” He dropped Tamara’s hand momentarily and took Emmy into his arms, hugging her affectionately. When he stepped away, she looked wistful. It was the same look all mothers give when their sons grow up too fast.
Byron reclaimed her hand before addressing his father. “By your leave, I would like to speak with Lady Tamara alone.” Reaching his free arm out to his father, they exchanged a Drengr’s handshake, forearms grasped.
“Of course.” Lord Davi turned to her. “Congratulations, Lady Tamara. It is a proud moment when a father can see his son happily mated. Finding that mate is the hardest part.”
Emmy stepped forward, placing a hand on each side of her head before squeezing lovingly. “I am happy to have a daughter. Congratulations.” She was soft spoken, but her words carried immense weight.
She and Byron walked hand in hand back to the fort. At first, she said nothing out of sheer intimidation. The tingles shooting through her skin did not cease. It finally drove her to speak. “Is it always like this?” she breathed. “My skin sparks each time it touches yours.”
Byron chuckled. “I feel it too.” He rubbed his thumb against her knuckle and the sensation intensified, traveling up through her arm, taking root deep within her. A pleased growl purred within his chest. “In truth, I never expected it to be like this.”
Her heart clenched. “How—how did you think it would be?”
“Honestly, there were no expectations. Finding a mate is different for every Drengr.”
“What do you mean? You do no
t always feel tingles?” She wanted to know everything.
He laughed and shook his head. “Not always, Tamara. For some it is a pounding in the chest, for others, overwhelming sentiments of love, infatuation, compassion, adoration, anger. Certain Drengr feel it in touch, others in emotion, and some with drastic changes in their mood. Though different, we all experience one commonality when our mate exists in the world.”
“What commonality is that?”
“We all experience an inexplicable change, a difference, something that offsets our norm.” His words sent her imagination wild. Had Byron felt a mysterious change towards her? Had she towards him? Aside from her increasing drive to become a Rider, which drove her to run away, she could not discern any deviation.
“The feelings can be subtle at first, especially if you are young.” He answered her mind’s question. “You are nearly half my age, you may not have felt anything before touching my skin. But I did.”
“You knew?”
He shrugged. “I did not necessarily know it was you, Tamara. But when I think on it, I felt something different since your birth. What I experienced fifteen years ago was subtle. During that time, it was too early to associate it as a potential bond. Not until it grew.”
She stopped and turned to him. “But—what did it feel like?”
“I can hardly say. I myself have trouble explaining it. Somehow I knew my Rider was out there.” He waved an arm. “Somewhere out there she was waiting for me. That confidence grew. It radiated through me. And when I arrived in Redport, when we were closer than ever, I could almost sense your presence. Still, I did not make the association, nor recognize you when we met under the willow.”
“Shouldn’t a Drengr always know to interpret this strange deviation as fate?”
He shook his head. “The signs are not always accurate.” They began walking again and approached the fort’s walls. As they went, Byron explained in greater detail. Many Drengr perceived false signs, leading them to the incorrect belief they had found a mate, only to discover disappointment upon skin touching scale. They might find one whom they love, take their feelings as a sign, only to fail.
Talon the Black Page 41