by Arden Ellis
Wright's hands tightened on the cloth. The map did offer a path, but it was not an easy one. If there was a chance that Kai might be saved—even the smallest chance—Wright was bound to pursue it with all her might. It was not duty alone. Not anymore.
Hauling Kai over Farstride's saddle was almost too much for her, and the effort left her leaning against her horse's side gasping for breath as the pain in her shoulder crested and then ebbed. Jolie nuzzled at Kai's hair, soft horse-lips worrying at it as Wright mounted behind her. She set a hand to Farstride's neck, feeling his strength beneath her and borrowing some for her own.
"Stay with me, Kai," she whispered into Kai's hair as Farstride broke into a trot. "Stay."
CHAPTER NINE
Kneeling on the hard-packed dirt with the point of a spear leveled at her throat, Wright's endurance was nearly at an end.
She'd ridden until the light faded, and then waited only long enough for the waning moon; in the pitch-black before the dawn, she'd come across a border guard, a gangly boy with a wooden spear who had only gaped at her as she'd stiffly dismounted. She'd practically had to press her sheathed sword into his unfeeling hand, repeating two things over and over until she was certain he understood: the terms of her surrender, and the name which brought her here.
In the darkness of the empty street, the light spilling from the open doorway before her was almost enough to blind her. She had been kneeling for what felt like hours outside the dimly lit building which served as the village hospital, with the weight of Kai's body cradled in her lap. The boy with the spear shifted his weight from foot to foot, the point of his spear tracing circles in the air with the shaking in his hands. He looked at her as if she might sprout knives from both arms. Enemy knights appearing in the dead of night under the semblance of peaceful surrender would have made Wright nervous too. As it was, she was too exhausted to do anything but wait.
She settled her hand in the soft tangle of Kai's hair. Prone in the dirt, she had not even stirred as their captors lowered her roughly from the saddle or as Wright had lifted her head into her lap. Sometimes she had murmured or cried out in the grip of fever and pain, but now she lay still and silent in the torchlight. Her breathing was labored, but steady. Wright listened to it and tried to match her own to its rhythm, as if by mimicking the rise and fall of Kai's chest she could ensure it wouldn't stop.
How long had they been waiting like this, with no promise of whether the next thing to come through the door would be an offer of aid or an order to finish the two of them off? Kai shifted slightly; when Wright pressed a palm to her forehead, she felt the fire beneath her skin. The fever had come on so quickly. She smoothed Kai's sweaty hair away from her brow and struggled to control her shaking hands.
The sound of footsteps approached from within. Wright raised her eyes to see a robed figure step out into the night. She could make out no face in the obliterating light of the doorway.
"I had thought you said that I owed you no debt, Ser Wright."
A familiar voice. Wright forced a wretched smile, her eyes fixed on the shadowed face before her. "You do not. I have nothing to offer you but a debt of my own."
The silence stretched so long that Wright began to despair. But then the figure turned to the boy with the spear, her manner nothing but decisive. As she turned her face caught the light from the open doorway. "Help get the injured one into the surgery," Tavir said. "We'll have to act quickly."
For all his nervousness, the boy did not hesitate; clearly Tavir's authority carried no small weight among her townsfolk. Wright murmured what thanks she could she helped carry Kai into the house of healing, a pair of nurses quickly closing in to bear Kai's body away. They hardly spared Wright a glance. She trailed helplessly behind as they bore Kai into a room in the back—but was stopped on the threshold by Tavir's hand across her chest.
"You put me in a difficult situation. If my lord were to discover I aided enemy spies—"
"We are not spies," Wright said. "Or, if we were, we are no longer."
Tavir stared at her hard, reading Wright's expression like her thoughts were written upon it. After another moment, she settled her hands on her hips and let out a slow sigh. "Very well. There are empty beds in the back room—you'll find new clothes there as well. Keep your breastplate out of sight; as far as the rest of the town is concerned, you and your friend are just traveling hunters who met with bandits on the road."
"And what of the boy?"
He stood out of earshot by the door, holding his spear like a farmer's hoe. "His mother was among the survivors of the bandit attack; she may never walk again, but without your aid, she would have perished. He'll keep your secret."
Wright nodded, her throat tight. "Thank you." She made to step past once more—Tavir reached up to take Wright's shoulder in a strong grip, her fingers probing the bloodied bandage. Wright yanked away with a cry and a curse.
"Your shoulder could use some attention too," Tavir said with a businesslike nod. "Find me when I'm through with your friend. I will do what I can for her, but I can promise nothing."
Without another word she turned and left Wright there, alone among strangers in an enemy town. Preston and Silva were beyond her help; for Kai, she had done all she could. There was nothing to do but let herself into the room full of bunks, gingerly change into a new set of clothes, and collapse into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
Two weeks later
The song of steel on steel rang out in the village square. Sweat dripped down Wright's brow, drawn from pain as much as exertion. She gritted her teeth and raised her sword. For a moment the sun painted it as white-hot as a brand. She brought it down in a devastating downward sweep, a blow which should have broken through all but the strongest guard.
In the next moment, her sword went spinning into the dirt with an indignant clang, and the point of her enemy's blade rested in the hollow of her throat.
The man in Tintagel's colors offered her a rueful smile. Dulled as it was, Wright could feel the metal of his sword pressing into her skin with every heaving breath she took. "Better luck next time, my lady."
He lowered his sword with a brief salute. Immediately Wright bent to catch her breath, with only a faint twinge of humiliation. She lacked the breath to correct him on her title. Her shoulder felt as if the gunshot was tearing through it afresh with every subtle movement. "A good bout," she managed.
"Only because you are using your non-dominant arm," he said good-naturedly. A hand grasping a waterskin entered her field of vision. Wright accepted it gratefully and drank deep.
"She should not be sparring at all." Wright winced at the sound of Tavir's voice. Handing the waterskin back to her opponent with a nod, she turned to meet Tavir's familiar disapproval. She stood at the edge of the sandy combat ring, one hand on her hip and the other holding out a strip of cloth. "Your wounds will not heal properly if you insist on tearing them open every other day, Ser Wright."
Wright stepped up to her, a host of arguments on her tongue—they all died the moment she met Tavir's gaze. With a sigh, Wright held out her arm. Tavir stepped forward with the cloth to re-tie the sling which Wright had discarded earlier that day.
"It is not in my nature to sit idle," Wright said while Tavir worked.
It was not a lie—and yet never before had she felt as restless as this, impatience gnawing at the soles of her feet and the palms of her hands, a feeling which grew unbearable whenever her thoughts turned towards a certain knight lying prone in her sickbed. For three days Kai had teetered on the verge of death after Wright had delivered Kai to Tavir's care; if Wright hadn't been bedbound with her own wounds for half that time she likely would have broken the door down to get to her. On the fourth day the fever had broken; the infection was driven out, and the wounds properly cleaned and bound.
Since then Kai had skimmed consciousness for brief moments, but Tavir had forbidden all visitors. Even knowing that Kai was on the mend, Wright could not ban
ish the last image of her she'd seen—limp and pale and streaked in her own blood, being carried far beyond Wright's reach.
"It may be weeks before your companion is fit to leave. That is a long time to wait."
Wright avoided her gaze, fighting to keep the flickers of pain from her face at Tavir's attention to her shoulder. "I will remain as long as necessary."
"Are you not eager to return home?"
Images crowded into Wright's mind. The chilly air of the throne room, her lord's stare as hard as stone. All that waited there was her own failure. This village was in itself a sort of haven, a place where Wright could hide from her duty, her oaths, her very honor. It was almost tempting to forget everything that she was, to embrace the simplicity of training farmers to defend themselves against bandits, to sit in the sun and let her muscles relax into uselessness, to earn her meals by helping Tavir organize her shelves of vials, herbs, and medicines.
But the weight of another lifetime dragged on her like a weight tied to her legs and ate away at her happiness as surely as the curse. She had known nothing but Lord Kenilworth's service; he was the closest thing she'd had to a father, the one thing in her life which had remained constant. She could not simply run from that. Even as a failure, even as a traitor, Wright knew she must return to face him.
Just not yet.
Wright forced herself to smile, her tone as light as possible to hide her darker thoughts. "It seems a shame to leave before I've a chance to finish training left-handed."
Tavir finished tying the cloth sling with a businesslike tug. "You're quite like her, you know. I nearly had to bind her to the bed as well."
Wright went very still. "Then she's—"
"Awake," Tavir confirmed. "And stable. In no shape to do anything but rest, no matter what she says."
Wright hesitated, her emotions tangling like fingers laced over her throat. "May I… may I see her?"
At long last, Tavir cracked a small smile. "I do not believe I could restrain you if I wished to, ser."
Wright made no effort to prove her wrong.
Kai's room was at the end of the hall, tucked out of sight. The morning sunlight streamed through the open shutters to nudge at the foot of the bed as Wright closed the door behind her. Kai lay on her back with her eyes closed and her hands folded over her chest. Her face was wan and slack, her hair its usual tangled mess around her face. The shadows under her eyes were deeper than usual. She looked awful. And yet seeing her eased an ache in Wright's chest that went deeper than flesh and bone.
After everything, Wright knew Kai's face well enough to know she wasn't sleeping. Her features were too composed. Too carefully neutral. Wright stood quietly for a while longer, watching Kai's measured breathing, imagining her counting the seconds—hoping, perhaps, that Wright would leave. "Kai," she said, when she could wait no longer.
Sure enough, Kai opened her eyes. As soon as she saw Wright, something flickered through them—fear?—and then she closed them again.
"That's Ser Kai to you," she answered hoarsely. "Come to berate me on my deathbed?"
"The healers assure me you'll make a full recovery." Wright settled on the bed gingerly, almost leaping up when Kai winced at the movement.
"No, stay," Kai said quickly. "It's just a bit tender."
"You were shot without armor," Wright said. "I'd wager it's more than tender."
"Actually, I'm in horrible agony. I thought only to impress you with my stoicism and pain tolerance." A wry smile touched Wright's lips, and Kai returned it in kind. "Why are you here, ser? Surely you aren't planning on reading the entirety of the Code to me while I lie helpless to resist."
"As tempting a prospect as that is, I am not here to rebuke you."
"Really? That doesn't sound at all like you. How am I to know you're not a cleverly disguised imposter?"
"Kai…"
"Say something only Ser Wright of Kenilworth would say."
Wright pinched the bridge of her nose. "Awake for less than an hour, and already you try my patience."
Kai shifted her head against the pillow, a broad grin splitting over her cracked lips. "Ah, so it is you." After a moment the mirth in her eyes slipped away. Kai turned to meet her gaze again, her expression wary. For all of Kai's feigned levity, Wright caught a glimpse of genuine fear. "You still have not answered my question, ser."
Wright blinked at her. In truth, she did not know why she lingered. It had been clear for days that Kai would recover. But something had kept Wright here, mooring her as surely as an anchor against the tides. She did not have the words for it. She swallowed and looked away. "My duty is here."
It had been the wrong thing to say. At once Kai's smile grew stiff. "If duty is all that keeps you here, then by all means, don't trouble yourself. I release you."
Frustration and hurt flared in Wright's chest at the curt dismissal—and at her own failure to say what she meant. Dust drifted in and out of the sunbeams as the silence grew between them. From the hallway there was the sound of soft voices and footsteps, a world away.
Wright knew she ought to leave. Kai was a complication, a contradiction—something Wright had spent years convincing herself to despise. And yet, here they were. Years of denial had led nowhere but to Kai's bedside.
"Did you mean what you said?" The words tumbled out of Wright's mouth before she could consider them further. "In the clearing, after you were shot." She could not meet Kai's eyes as she said them. They were teetering on the edge of a precipice; they could fall forward, or back. As the silence dragged on, Wright finally found the courage to look up—and found Kai was staring at her with an intensity she could hardly bear. All too quickly the other woman looked away, her expression clouding over.
"What I said?" Kai repeated blankly. Her eyes would not hold Wright's gaze for long. "I'm afraid I can't recall, ser knight. I was a bit delirious at the time."
Wright sat very still, her good palm pressed to her thigh and her other arm limp within its sling. Her shoulder ached. She hadn't noticed until now, but the pain set her teeth on edge. "Of course," she heard herself say, in a voice far too remote to be her own. "It was nothing of consequence."
And with that, the decision which had plagued her since the moment Wright had risen from her own hospital bed settled into place as surely as the lid of a tomb. Without another word, she rose from the edge of Kai's bed. "You're right, of course. It's far past time that I returned home."
"You're going back?"
The shock in Kai's voice was almost enough to give Wright pause. Instead, she merely shrugged. "I made my choice, back on the ship. The time has come for me to face the consequences."
Kai's mouth twisted. It did not at all resemble a smile. "Crawling back to your lord, even after all of this. I don't know why I'm surprised."
"What, then?" Wright snapped. "Would you have me simply disappear? Abandon my oaths as if they were nothing?"
"Yes," Kai said through gritted teeth. She looked on the verge of struggling to sit up, but pain kept her prone. "That is exactly what I plan to do, and if you had any sense at all then you would do the same."
Wright stared down at Kai. Where they lay on top of the sheets, her hands were clenched. "That's not who I am, Kai. You know that."
Kai stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet Wright's gaze. "Who you are," she echoed dully. "Gods, Wright, I thought you'd learned better. You don't have to do this. You have a choice."
"For gods' sakes, Kai, are you really asking me to choose between my honor and you?"
As soon as the words left her lips Wright knew she'd made a mistake. They were wrong, not what she meant, and yet there was just enough truth in them that they could not be taken back. Kai's jaw tightened, her eyes going as hard and unfeeling as stones.
"You're right, ser. That's no choice at all." Kai's voice sounded nothing like her own.
Desperation seized in Wright's throat. Before she knew what she was doing her hand reached out to seize Kai's. "Kai, I didn't—"
She rose from the bed, her movements stiff. Her shoulder no longer hurt—in truth, she felt little at all. Kai did not call out to her, did not ask her to stop. Wright paused before the closed door, her hand on the knob. Like the pull of the tides, Kai's presence tugged her back. It took every fiber of her being to turn the handle. If she lingered a second longer, she would never leave.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shards of colored light fell through the high windows of the throne room, lending no warmth to the cold stone floor beneath Wright's knee. For the first time since she left on the long and arduous journey to the coast, she knelt before her lord once again. As it had been so many weeks ago, the room was empty but for a contingent of guards. This time, however, there were no companions to take a knee beside her. Utterly still, Lord Kenilworth sat upon his ruined throne and gave no word for her to rise.
Wright did not know how long she knelt in silence before him. It felt as a stake had been pounded into the joint of her bended knee, pinning her beneath Lord Kenilworth's gaze. She did not shift her weight. Head bowed and eyes cast down, she would wait here until her strength gave out.
"You have returned alone." His tone was warm, an attempt at welcome, but something shivered beneath the surface. A tremor of anticipation, perhaps.
"Yes, my lord." Wright raised her head. She had removed her sling, holding her arm stiffly to her chest instead; the dull pounding of her shoulder mirrored that in her knee. She let herself remain balanced between those two points of pain, her face blank.
Oblivious to her discomfort, Lord Kenilworth smiled, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the stone arms of his throne. "I never should have doubted your resolve, Wright. I suspected Warwick's dog would need to be put down—it's a shame about the alchemist, of course. A terrible shame. But such sacrifices are necessary at times, for the greater good."