“No, I wouldn’t hurt you. It was…I lost control…my Larnkin…”
Her expression softened a notch—not friendly, but less hostile, and in a whisper she said, “My Larnkin and I don’t get along either.”
He was saved from having to reply to her unusual comment by the arrival of Kandarra.
Marching up to both sets of guards, his sister bestowed a charming smile upon the human soldiers. He’d always envied his sister’s ability to disarm a person with a simple smile or witty comment, but there was more to this. The air filled with the sweet, spicy scent of magic, growing stronger as she neared.
Kandarra greeted Ashayna as she passed and walked to his bedside, carrying a tray with two stone goblets. “I wonder what you were doing to make your magic flare. I felt it all the way outside.”
When he glowered at his sister, her smile grew into a grin.
Glancing behind Kandarra, he watched Ashayna straighten her clothing and pull on muddy boots while trying to look at him without staring. Kandarra leaned into his range of vision. She smiled and looked in the direction he’d been staring so intently. His human bondmate returned to tying her boots, giving the laces such a violent tug he marveled they didn’t break.
“See something you like, brother?”
“Kandarra…” He delivered his warning without taking his eyes off Ashayna.
“Would I ever do anything to cause you embarrassment?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, you know me too well.” Kandarra leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I thought it time for some of Vinarah’s brew. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can leave.” She handed him one of the tall, stone goblets and turned towards Ashayna.
Ashayna interrupted whatever Kandarra would have said. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days. Just long enough for tensions to ease a little and for Elder Cymael to draw up a peace treaty between our peoples,” Kandarra said, then added in a dry tone, “I supposed it helped that King Ryanth ordered his army to disperse back to their home territories.”
“I’ve missed all that? You let me sleep two entire days?”
Kandarra ignored Ashayna’s concerned statement. “We’ll leave by mid-day.” She studied their expressions. “You look terrible. Both of you need a good meal and more rest.”
“Where’s my father?” A scowl darkened Ashayna’s features.
“He’s well. Actually, he’s been here when the negotiations allowed.”
“He’s free then?”
“Of course. We’d not dishonor the tradition of the duel.” A mischievous expression spread across his sister’s face. “However, those guards are eyeing each other with a great deal of distrust again, so no more war games, you two. And brother, keep your hands to yourself.”
Ashayna made an unintelligible sound and drew a deep breath to speak, but Kandarra held up a hand for silence. After handing Ashayna a goblet of herb-infused drink, Kandarra left at a brisk walk, dodging the next volley of questions.
Ashayna transferred her glare from Kandarra’s retreating form back to him. Sorntar hastily sipped at his goblet with the hope she’d find something else of interest to glower at. She continued to eye her drink with suspicion long after she watched him sip his.
New energy flooded his weary body. The slow return of strength to his limbs a welcome sensation. Had the brew possessed such ability, there would be no need for healers. No, this new strength came from elsewhere. Summoning his mental shields, he watched his future bondmate over his goblet’s rim. It seemed nature had given her instinctual knowledge to share energy with another. By her guarded look, Sorntar doubted she did it knowingly. He decided not to enlighten her just yet.
“How do you feel?” Ashayna asked after she had emptied her goblet in a few quick swallows. She awaited his response with a stillness that spoke of great discipline. Behind her stout mental walls he sensed a great number of questions looming. He wasn’t sure he could hold his silence so long if their positions were reversed.
“Much better, thank you.” To prove the truth of his words, he stood and walked around, stretching and loosening stiff flight muscles and aching joints.
He caught her staring. When she realized he’d noticed, her cheeks took on a pinkish hue, which she hurriedly tried to hide by turning to straighten the camp bed. A smile tugged at his lips. He wouldn’t have labeled her as shy.
Curiosity reared up within him. He knew so little about humans. Maybe with her help he could learn at least enough to avoid a war with them.
“This is quite a mess, isn’t it?” Ashayna glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yet, your people seek peace?”
“Yes, and it’s good my mother has sent Elder Cymael. She’s a councilor, her specialty is fixing up other peoples’ mistakes.” Sorntar replied. “Honestly, we never wished to spill blood, but after the first failed attempt at negotiations with the acolytes of the Revealing Light, we couldn’t allow your kind to advance unchecked.”
“Too bad this Cymael wasn’t there the first time our peoples met. Perhaps she could have convinced the acolytes of the benefits of an alliance, and prevented all this.”
“It wouldn’t have helped. Once they learned of our magic…” Sorntar shrugged. “I doubt anyone could have convinced them of our innocence.”
“No, not likely,” she replied. “There are many myths about magic, but I never paid it much mind, thinking there was no truth to the rumors, until recently. It has been feared in the past, but not like it is now. For many years, long before I was born, acolytes have sought out rumors of magic. Then they encountered your kind and most senior acolytes took ship back to the empire.”
“We were just what they were seeking.” A vague note of concern echoed in his voice. The acolytes must have learned something of importance about his people if they were so quick to return to their own land with the news. But what had they learned? An enemy he didn’t understand concerned him.
“I doubt very much you have anything to fear,” Ashayna countered.
“Good, I don’t need more enemies when my bondmate’s idea of a greeting is to kidnap me from my city and then drag me through an unstable Gate.” Sorntar laughed, muscles along his shoulders and wings relaxing for the first time in several candlemarks. He didn’t know what it was, but something about his little human bondmate calmed him. The thought of spending a lifetime with her didn’t seem so terrible to him at the moment.
“What did you say?” Her empty goblet clattered to the ground, rolling across the wood planks of the floor before coming to rest at his feet.
“When your Larnkin dragged me through the gate, it was very dangerous,” he said, stalling, trying to figure out what was so shocking about what he’d said.
“That…I wasn’t…it was an accident.” She pinned him with an intense look. “The other thing you called me…bondmate? Explain what you meant by that. Now.”
“Bondmates.” Sorntar paused in confusion, how could she not know something so basic, so primal? “Surely Vinarah told you. Marsolwyn?”
Ashayna shook her head, eyes narrow and angry. “They told me I’m host to a Larnkin.”
“Ah,” Sorntar fought down a surge of panic, trying to think how to begin, “So Vinarah didn’t tell you? She must have known. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I’m glad you think something makes sense, because you don’t.” Ashayna ground out her words, then fell silent. Her lips pursed as if she tasted something unpalatable.
“Vinarah bears the gift of Far Sight. I believe she saw a vision of us as bondmates. It explains why she and the others would come here.”
Ashayna looked at him with greater hostility.
“My sisters did tell you about Larnkins, did they not?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“One host can always recognize another.” He stopped to gauge her response. She nodded her head in an abrupt motion, and he continued. “In the spirit world, two Larnkins are joined by a powerfu
l bond. When they take hosts in this realm, their spiritual bond is broken.”
Sorntar scrutinized Ashayna’s features, trying to read something of her thoughts. She was shielding herself very well. He didn’t like the disadvantage. Sucking in a breath, he rushed on. “They live to serve the Light, and guide us. Though I think they need us as much as we need them. They can’t linger in our world without a host to act as anchor, and the breaking of their spirit bond, while damaging, isn’t permanent. It takes them many years to recover after taking a host, but if they’re strong enough, a Larnkin will seek out its other half and forge the bond of spirit once again.”
“If this conversation is heading where I think it is, don’t bother to finish.” Ashayna held up her hand. “You’re addled. I’m going to see my father. Don’t you dare bring this rubbish up in front of him.” She walked away, her hips swaying to the rhythm of her strides.
Sorntar shook his head. She could run, just not nearly far enough to escape their bond.
No matter how much she might wish it.
A few moments later—long enough to let her escape—he followed. Outside he found Elder Cymael awaiting him with word of the negotiations.
After a candlemark spent with her father, Ashayna had her emotions under control enough to face Sorntar, she hoped. Alone with her thoughts, she made her way to the delegates’ pavilion. Around the perimeter another mixed group of her father’s and Crown Prince Sorntar’s guards eyed each other hostilely. Ashayna brushed past both sets of guards without pause, entered the tent, and faltered at the sight of Sorntar.
He stood surrounded by a small group of elementals. She had done all in her power to forget his words about Larnkin and bondmates. Dread returned now she was again in his presence. It had been bad enough when his sisters had told her she was a mage and her Larnkin had tried to convince her of that. Oh, but this new knowledge about bondmates was so much worse. To be tied to another to such an extent bordered on the realm of nightmare. What if there was more to bonding than just some spiritual Larnkin binding? Was she expected to share his bed? Was it even possible with a phoenix? Well, if his thoughts headed in that direction, she’d show him how good she was with a blade.
Sorntar’s sisters conversed with him, so did the lupwyn queen, and a phoenix with golden feathers Ashayna had learned was Elder Cymael.
Sorntar looked between her and her father. Ashayna’s feelings of anxiety tripled. If Sorntar mentioned anything about Larnkin or bondmates to her father, there would be no peaceful resolution. Worse, her magic might be laid out for all to see. That knowledge would prove deadly for her family should an acolyte learn of it.
“Lady Ashayna, welcome.”
Prince Sorntar’s greeting came as a shock. His voice sent a strange thrill through her blood. Was she getting ill? Her magic awakening again?
Sorntar motioned for her to take a seat at the central table, which occupied most of the pavilion’s space. She glanced at her father, and he nodded his head before joining her. After Sorntar took a seat on a stool, Ashayna and the rest of the delegation followed. She sat with shoulders square and elbows tucked against her waist, spine rigid. Three copies of the treaty sat upon the table, each waiting for two final signatures.
Elder Cymael and General Stonemantle had come to agree that the Elementals would reclaim one quarter of human occupied lands, and the villagers within those territories were free to stay or go as they chose, but no acolyte would ever venture upon Elemental lands uninvited. There were so many details Ashayna had missed while she’d slept for two days. She couldn’t even focus enough to read the tiny, flowing script, not with Sorntar watching her through assessing eyes the whole time.
Sorntar gathered the papers, gave them another quick look, and then signed his name. After the ink was dry, he pushed them across the table to her. Under the sinuous foreign script, which must represent his name or perhaps his title, she contemplated the first blank line awaiting her signature. Without reading the treaty, she signed each. It didn’t matter what it said. She knew, no matter the pretty words they wrote or what they chose to call it, this was the beginning of her enslavement—her life now belonged to the crown prince.
How would these magic wielders change her? In a turning of the seasons would she recognize herself? Would she be like them? To become a mage—to use a gift she doubted and feared. She glanced up at Sorntar. What of becoming his bondmate? If she was truthful with herself, bonding worried her more than training to use magic. Did she have a choice? Would she lose herself to the creature within?
“Then it is settled,” Cymael said, intruding upon Ashayna’s thoughts. Then the elder stood and bowed to both General Stonemantle and Crown Prince Sorntar. “May both your chosen paths in this life know many blessings.”
Her father ignored the others and faced her. “Ashayna, I’m sorry.” While his voice was cold, a gruffness in his tone conveyed much more. She heard and understood what no one else recognized. He wanted to throw duty to the wind and rescue her, but he didn’t have that luxury.
When the silence took on a hard-edged quality, Ashayna replied, “Father, I knew what I was doing when I answered the duel. I knew I couldn’t win, but this way I could help my people. This is a bloodless way. You taught me well. Now you must let me go.” She met his intense stare with one of her own. “Duty first.”
Her father stood unmoving, one hand gripping the signed treaty, the other locked in a fist. When he moved at last, it was to sigh, a sound full of bitter helplessness. “Duty first.” He covered the distance in three strides and reached out, hugging her to him in a fierce grip.
“Take care, daughter.”
With one last nod to acknowledge the responsibility she had accepted, he walked out of the tent. Her father didn’t look back. He was simply and totally gone. The other officers followed him out. His quick departure hurt, but she understood. A clean break was better for both of them. Leaning against one of the tent’s support beams, she slid down its length until she sat in a crouched position.
“I can’t claim to understand what you’re going through right now,” Sorntar said as he rounded the table and came to her side, “But I’ll help you as much as you’ll let me.”
“I don’t need your help. I certainly don’t want it.”
****** END OF SAMPLE ******
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Other books
by
Lisa Blackwood
The Avatars
Beginnings
Stone’s Kiss
Stone’s Song
Stone’s Divide
Stone’s War (Forthcoming Spring 2016)
In Deception’s Shadow
Betrayal’s Price
Herd Mistress
Death’s Queen (Forthcoming)
City of Burning Water (Forthcoming Fall 2016)
Warships of the Spire
Vengeance (Forthcoming March 2016)
Afterword
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About the Author
Lisa Blackwood grudgingly lives in a small town in Southern Ontario, though she would much rather live deep in a dark forest, surrounded by majestic old-growth trees. Since she cannot live her fantasy, she decided to write fantasy instead. An abundance of pets, named after various Viking gods, helps to keep the creativity flowing. Freya, her ever faithful and beloved hellhound, ensures Lisa
takes a break from the computer so they can rid the garden of cats with delusions of conquest.
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