by Meagan Hurst
“Apparently the Dragon thinks I should invest in family now that I have the time for it.”
Midestol’s gaze flickered to Nivaradros for a second. “That Dragon?”
“The one who is getting tired of being spoken of in third person? Yes,” Nivaradros drawled dangerously. His smile was all teeth, and his eyes had started to creep toward their more irritated shade. He swung his neck and head until they faced the Dark Mage more than her. “She’s not allowed on the battlefield,” the Dragon explained. “Therefore, she needs something to do. You indicated interest in getting to know her personally instead of getting to know her as a target, so I thought now was the perfect time. If that doesn’t interest you, however, I am certain she would be more than happy to leave. This is, after all, my idea.”
Z sighed as Midestol’s attention returned to her. “It was entirely his idea. I’d rather not grow at all close to you in any manner. I plan to kill you eventually, after all.”
The mage’s chuckle was dark, but amused. “Not if I kill you first.”
“That would be a small downside to my plan, yes.”
Orange eyes watched her intently. “My offer still stands, Zimliya,” he told her softly. “I would like to get to know you as something other than the most entertaining and powerful enemy to have crossed my path yet.”
Shaking her head in disbelief at the truth she heard in his tone, she held his eyes with hers and then sighed again. “I think I am going to end up regretting this, but perhaps it is past time I learn the possible blessing to having a living relative.”
“She does have a problem with the term ‘family,’” Nivaradros observed offhandedly to Midestol.
The Dark Mage winced. “Indeed, but at least I have the poor excuse of saying I didn’t know about her. I should have guessed—I should have known—but I did not. The now-dead king of the former Tenian kingdom, however, didn’t have that excuse to lean on. He knew all along whom he was destroying.” Midestol’s jaw tightened in anger. “He gave her to me to eventually kill several times. I should have known who you were, Ksiria—”
“Zimliya,” she whispered softly.
“Zimliya, then—why do you not claim your name?”
“Because it’s a bit late to change names for me, Midestol, and because it’s been a scar for years. I just wanted to know what it was. I am too well known to change names now, and I am used to Zimliya.”
Nivaradros coughed—loudly—and she elbowed him in the jaw. She doubted he really noticed, but it made her feel better. He shook his head and coughed again, which told her she needed to hit him harder. Yes, she preferred to go by Z, but that wasn’t what she was arguing about right now. She was arguing about an entirely different name, not her preference to use a nickname to the one she already had.
Midestol’s dark smile was also amused. “As you say.”
She really hated those words. Hated them with a passion. “So I do,” she countered before turning her anger towards the Dragon completely. “Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?”
A cloud of smoke appeared as the Dragon snorted. “I take it you have decided to stay, then?”
“Right now, he’s not as annoying as you are.”
“Your words wound me,” the Dragon said in a falsely injured tone. He shook himself, and slowly backed away. “If you harm her in any manner, Midestol, you and I will meet on less amiable terms.”
“I would expect nothing less from a Dragon,” Midestol replied evenly. “You are not known for liking others, Nivaradros, and yet you seem to be exceptionally protective of Zimliya.”
The Dragon shrugged, causing Z to duck to avoid being taken out by a wing. “She’s an investment of mine. I would rather not have wasted the effort I have put into her thus far. Her death or a huge change in her demeanor would render my effort wasted, and I have a notoriously short temper when my time ends up having been for naught.”
“Your kind is known for that.” Midestol’s gaze returned to her. “You look well,” he told her softly. “It is both wonderful and maddening to see you no longer so easily pushed over to death’s hold.”
“I am fairly certain several of the immortal races will have the same opinion.” Z turned to glare again at Nivaradros, and the Dragon chuckled before taking to the skies with ease.
“So how do you want to do this?” she wanted to know once the Dragon was gone.
“Well, a warning would have been nice, but I can make this work without too much of a problem. We will not, however, be staying with any part of my army. I want to get to know you and surrounding you with men who will constantly be scheming to get you into their tent, or into a torture chamber, will take away from the whole experience. Especially since you have already gone through most of that by my orders already. You know who I am as an opponent, I want you to know me as a person.”
She managed to refrain from pointing out his entire lifestyle revolved around torturing or raping those he captured for fun, but it took work. Instead she nodded in agreement but hesitated when he offered her a hand. He meant for her to ride behind him on his creature, and Z wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to find out what it was like to ride something that was a horse-lizard-leopard. She had been on some of his creations before—back when Nicklyn had still been alive—and it had never been a pleasant experience.
It was clear her hesitation annoyed him. She was almost certain he misinterpreted it, but she since she wasn’t sure, she didn’t want to open her mouth and possibly make it worse. Steeling herself instead, she grabbed the black-gloved hand he offered her and swung up behind him with ease.
“Rumors will be starting,” Midestol commented dryly.
“I really didn’t need the image that just came to mind.”
She felt the mage almost shudder, and abruptly realized the previous threat now had a different meaning for him. She doubted he would make such a remark again. Having had to deal with such terrible remarks from him for years, she felt a small amount of amusement over his discomfort. It was also a relief to know he had a line he wouldn’t cross. “Neither did I, thanks for that.”
“You started it.”
His chuckle surprised her. It was open and far more delighted than she was used to. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Midestol had been amused at her expense before. It was normally when she was bleeding to death, or in the midst of being tortured at a level that definitely should have killed her. This laughter had no dark undercurrent to it; she didn’t know what to make of it.
“I will have to alert my men to the change in plans.”
“Or else they may do something stupid? Like wait here forever?”
“Something like that, yes. It is a small amount of relief you follow things like this so well. I hate having to explain things in depth.”
“I occasionally have my own army to deal with.”
“Yours is slightly more difficult to handle than mine. Immortals are well known for having long grudges among their own kind, and every other race out there. My people are at least united in their ambition and goals.”
Z chuckled softly. “Very true, but it does mean there is rarely a dull moment.”
“When you’ve lived for a few millenniums, you will find out there are many different kinds of dull; some of them you even start to look forward to.”
She laughed aloud then, and relaxed slowly as she adjusted to the horrible gait of Midestol’s creature. She kept her hands by her sides—refusing to touch him, and not needing to—but she didn’t hold herself away from him at all costs. Occasionally she bumped against him when the creature took a horrendous step, but when it was clear he didn’t mind it either, she felt tension leave her body even more. This was either going to be a disaster, or one of the more positive things she had gone through in a while; she wasn’t sure which she wanted it to be.
It only took about five minutes to make it to Midestol’s camp, but it felt like it was at least triple the amount of time. After their initial exchange of words
both of them had fallen silent, and that silence had been awkward. There really was no way to prepare for spending personal time with someone who was either trying to kill you, or someone you were trying to kill. And it was clear Midestol was just as unsure about this whole thing as she was, but she had a feeling his was more anxious nerves to her ‘this was a stupid idea.’
Having spent the last decade and a half, and then some, trying to convince herself that family was a waste of time—having succeeded, in fact—this was something she didn’t know about at all. Memories of working something similar out with Nicklyn, and then dealing with the scar his death had left, warned her away from even considering this, but the Dragon had subtly positioned her to ignore her own warning. Worse was the small—and growing—feeling that she did want this. If it worked out, it would be nice to have someone to consider family, but if it didn’t, Z knew it could possibly re-shatter her anew. She wondered if the Dragon had considered that.
As he was an immortal—and had been born that way—she presumed he had. If he hadn’t, he was possibly in for a nasty surprise. Then again, Z had a feeling if the worst happened he would just see it as a new challenge. As far as she was concerned, the Dragon should have let her die months ago. He, on the other hand, had apparently gotten great joy out of the whole let’s-prolong-Z’s-life thing. While she was grateful—mostly—to be alive, she hadn’t overly enjoyed the torturous process she had undergone to get here.
“If you so much as bruise her, your death will be felt throughout our world for the next millennium.”
Z shoved her thoughts to the side at Midestol’s cold statement and smiled slyly as several of Midestol’s warriors jumped back from his creature as he rode through them. She did have to admit his reputation was occasionally helpful. No one would consider touching her for now. The creature picked up a magic-awful gait as he urged it to go faster, and Z glanced over the mage’s shoulder in time to see they were headed towards a platform. Great. She always loved being gawked at.
Midestol reined in the creature as they landed level beside it. He waited for her to dismount before he joined her on the lowest level of the dais, and he raised a brow before preceding her to the top of it. She followed mostly because she hated awarding him a point by standing on the bottom. That, and because she was likely to have to kill someone if she remained without his presence in the center of his camp—since she was only female.
There were a fair number of stairs to climb, since the stupid thing was at least fifteen feet high, but Z managed to keep her annoyance on the stairs, and not on how different it was to use them since her change. Moving to stand beside him at the top, Z caught a small smile of approval—and it was smug—as Midestol glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She tuned out his little speech since there would be a decided lack of useful information in it, and simply waited until he was done. Following him back down the stairs, Z once again climbed behind him on his created monstrosity, and she managed to keep silent as they rode out of the site.
“Are we heading back to your castle?” she finally ventured to ask after a couple of hours had gone by. She wondered briefly if immortals—or at least her—got sore from riding, because Midestol’s stupid beast was horrible to sit for such a long time and she knew they were going to be on the road for days at the very least.
Midestol glanced over his shoulder at her for a moment and then shook his head as he returned his gaze to what was before them. “No.”
She waited fifteen minutes for him to continue talking, but when he added nothing further, she sighed. “Then where are we headed?”
“It is still within my lands.”
“Well, that narrows it down.”
“You are trying my patience.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Midestol exhaled sharply with irritation, but he didn’t reply for several minutes. “I am not taking you to my castle for the same reason I decided not to stay with that part of my army. I am attempting to build a relationship with you that is slightly more positive than I have attempted in the past. In order to do so, I think the best thing to do would be to start in a place you don’t have a negative association with already.”
Z thought this over for about a minute. While she wasn’t entirely certain it would, indeed, help, she was willing to admit it couldn’t make things any more difficult. It also was a small surprise. The Dragon had been right all along—possibly. Midestol did seem to be pulling out all sorts of tricks to try to make this work.
“I take it our destination is a surprise then?”
“Your annoyance over not knowing where we are headed is slightly entertaining.”
“Of course it is.”
They rode for several more hours before Midestol reined in the creature and Z slid off. Landing easily on her feet, Z glanced at their stopping point and raised a brow at Midestol. “Zimliya, it is highly unlikely anyone is going to be stupid enough to attack you or me—or both of us really—no matter how dark it is. There is very little point in seeking out some hidden refuge.”
He had a point, but old habits die hard. She managed a curt nod and shifted her weight for a few minutes while Midestol tended to his mount before she struggled to think of something to do. “I’ll go find some firewood.” She headed off before he told her they didn’t need it.
Since they were in the plains, there was a lack of trees to contend with, but Z hadn’t been able to handle being with Midestol. At a campsite. For the night. Not yet, anyways. This whole thing was so damn awkward she considered going to the Dragon’s side to stab him for suggesting this. She also hated how she kept hitting the wall over this whole arrangement, but damn it all to the hells, with what Midestol had done, it was almost impossible for her to accept this.
“This is really going to be more difficult than I thought for you, isn’t it?”
It was only because she had had a minute’s warning that Midestol was on his way that she managed not to jump. Instead she just whirled with a hand on a dagger and a hand on Kyi’rinn. “Does it help if I tell you it’s not just because of all the stuff you’ve done?”
Midestol’s smile was cool, but faintly entertained. “Slightly.” He watched her intently, and she managed not to react to his stare. “I really like your eyes now, by the way.”
What was it with people and her eyes?! Z still didn’t know what they looked like—she was too worried about the possibilities to find out—but so far everyone had made a comment about them.
“Uh … thanks?”
He laughed then, and it was a rich laugh that offered no threat. “You are welcome. Come back to camp, Zimliya. I promise you I won’t test your tastes with anything overly exotic.”
“As you have a shortage of humans to carve from, that isn’t overly surprising.”
“Be nice.”
“I was.”
Orange eyes rolled skyward, but she knew it was an act. He was more amused with her words than annoyed by them. “Alright, fine—it was a bit of a given, but at least come back to camp?”
“Worried someone’s going to attack me?”
“In these parts? Unlikely, but there is always a chance.”
“I’m touched by your concern.”
“How is it the Dragon puts up with you?”
“I am fairly certain he asks himself the same thing hourly.” Z smiled mischievously and glanced over at her grandfather. “If you would prefer, I can always leave.”
“You must have been hell as a child, but no, don’t leave.” He gestured for her to follow him though and she fell in step beside him. “Tell me about it,” he said suddenly, quietly.
“Tell you about what?”
“Your childhood, before you went to the city. I know most of what happened after that, but before then … I’ve never been able to piece together what happened, where you were, before Tenia.”
She hesitated. It was the one part of her early life that wasn’t scarring, but she almost hated to talk about it more because of
that fact. “I lived with a merchant and his wife.”
He waited for her to continue, and she couldn’t get past the lump in her throat. “I take it they weren’t abusive?”
“No, they certainly weren’t that,” she confirmed with a nod. The light of the day was almost non-existent now, but the shadows failed to bring the comfort she sometimes found they did.
When her silence had extended for another ten minutes, Midestol paused and moved in front of her so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Too private to share?”
It was, she knew, a gesture she shouldn’t have needed. Yet it was something she did. Nodding again once, stiffly, she waited until he had resumed his position to her left before she started walking again. The silence carried them all the way back to the spot where Midestol had left his mount, but once there, the mage lit a fire carelessly and then moved to stand across from her. The fire caused forms to shadow his face in shapeless ways, but it was almost soothing—something somewhat familiar, even if it was on a different, colder face.
“You remind me of your mother,” Midestol said finally. His words were slightly loud, as if the silence had been too much of a burden for him to bear. He grimaced as he realized he had spoken too loud, but he continued to speak, though he softened his tone. “Her determination is within you—possibly dwarfed by yours—and you have her desire to learn weapons. She was always gifted with weapons,” he added with a dark smile. “It caused a small problem when she was young. I didn’t know for months she was harassing my soldiers by training with them. They didn’t know how to respond to her.”
“Well they do tend to have an issue with females and weapons. And females in general.”
Midestol’s smile was cool. “There is a reason for that.”
“One that isn’t outdated by a couple millenniums?”
“Now I remember why sometimes I had to stop your torturer from killing you—you have a habit of crossing the line of safety.”
“It gives me something to do.”
“It will possibly end up getting you killed.”
“That is part of the thrill.”