Given

by Nandi Taylor

  “Are any of your cuts more than superficial?” he asked, forcing his voice to be calm and strong.

  “I don’t think so,” said Yenni. “They sting, but I don’t feel dizzy, or faint.”

  “There’s still the risk of infection,” Weysh said again, willing his voice not to tremble. He took her hand, pulling her inside. “Come, I’ll magic you a bath.”

  Weysh set Yoben’s Rainfall above his bathtub while Yenni stood shivering next to his commode. He took her gently by the shoulders. “All right, lovely, from the beginning.”

  “Someone tried to kill me, and I think they may try to kill you,” she said.

  “Someone—” Weysh pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling once more to suppress his alarm for Yenni’s sake, but it was no use. The idea that someone had tried to hurt his Given made him want to roar, to rip and tear. He bared his teeth and growled.

  “Oh!” said Yenni. “I did not know you could make that noise as a man.”

  “Yenni,” said Weysh. “Who. Tried. To kill you.” He would know, and he would incinerate them.

  “I don’t know.” She explained the nature of the attack, and how her adversary had run off. Weysh’s head spun and swam. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin as he took in Yenni, bloody and shivering. Who would dare attack her on academy grounds? How was he to keep her safe? Especially if he could no longer track her scent?

  One thing at a time. “Source-drawn rain cease and remain.” He cut off the rainfall, grabbed a washrag, and dipped it in the bath. “You should get yourself cleaned up,” he said, wiping her blood—Yenni’s blood—off his skin. “I’ll leave and give you some privacy.”

  “Stay close,” she said quickly.

  Byen, was she afraid? “As you wish, but you’re not concerned I’ll see you disrobed?”

  “No, it’s more important that I know you’re nearby.”

  “All right, my heart.”

  Weysh leaned, arms crossed, against the wall outside his bathroom, listening to Yenni wash and splash as the light of sunrise filled the hallway. Who, by all that was holy, could want her dead?

  It couldn’t be Carmenna. She had too soft and sweet a heart, in spite of everything. Could Montpierre have hired someone? No, he wouldn’t dare. He had to know that Weysh would slash him to ribbons, Maman or no Maman. Montpierre was far too smart for that. What of those thieves? The ones who’d attacked Yenni in the alley? Perhaps they were free and seeking revenge. Or—the hair raised all along Weysh’s arms—Noriago was still out there somewhere.

  But this didn’t seem like Noriago. He’d be more likely to snatch Yenni than anything. Did he even know how to attack with magical darts? Weysh certainly had no idea what spell that was. Weysh stood ruminating until Yenni stepped from the bathroom wearing nothing but the nightshirt he’d left behind, which fit her like a gown. The silk clung to her, showing the outline of her body underneath and chasing all thoughts of anything else from his head.

  “Erm, ah—”

  “Do you know a spell that can heal shallow cuts such as these? I know of a rune, but I cannot use it to heal myself, of course, and I do not have my paint here besides.”

  “Ah, no. Sorry, lovely, but healing isn’t exactly my area of expertise. However, I do have a balm against infection. Wait here, I’ll retrieve it from the kitchen.”

  She’s injured. He chided himself as he rushed downstairs. Now is not the time. But Byen above did she look tempting in his nightshirt. When he came back upstairs with the container of balm she wasn’t in the hallway. “Yenni?” he called.

  “I’m here,” she said from his bedroom. He found her sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs dangling. “I apologize,” she said wearily. “Everything caught up to me at once and I needed to sit down.”

  “No need to apologize, my heart,” Weysh said, and went to kneel in front of her. She reached a hand out for the balm.

  “It will be more effective if I apply it,” he said. “It’s soft poppy and mimel infused with healing magic to stop the bleeding and well, you know, Law of Self-Preservation and all that.”

  She squinted at him. “Truly?”

  “Truly. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. But if you’d feel more comfortable putting it on yourself you’re free to do so.”

  She watched him a second more. “No,” she said at last. “I trust you. Please apply the balm for me.”

  Weysh nodded. “Where?”

  She pulled the loose shirt sleeve up her right arm, revealing a red welt on her bicep. Weysh scooped up the balm, feeling the magic of it tingle on his fingers, and spread it on the wound.

  “I’pa!” Yenni whispered and sucked in a breath.

  “Shhh, I know it burns,” Weysh said soothingly. “But it will help. Now, where else?”

  She let the sleeve drop and pulled the neck of the shirt down over her right shoulder. Weysh focused on applying the balm to the small stab wound there while suppressing all other thoughts, especially the strong urge to trail kisses along her collarbone.

  He almost sighed in relief when she hitched the shirt back up over her shoulder, until she pulled the hem of the shirt up, revealing her right thigh.

  Cursed Movay, why must you torment me!

  Weysh spread the balm, doing his best not to think about the soft, curvy roundness of her.

  “And one more, on my side. I’ll show you.”

  Weysh scooped up more balm and Yenni took his hand, guiding it up under the shirt to a spot against her curving waistline.

  Byen, I can’t take this.

  He hastily slapped it on, pulled his hand free, and shot to his feet.

  “There. All done.”

  But Yenni held his gaze, and rose to kneel on the bed. He was helpless as she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her soft lips to his.

  Weysh groaned in surrender and responded with deep, devouring kisses. He swept Yenni’s legs out from under her and placed her gently on the bed, never breaking the kiss. Her small hands slipped under his hair and played over his bare back and shoulders. He reached up and pulled down the neck of her nightshirt, and released her mouth only to finally plant that line of kisses along her delicate collarbone.

  “Weh-sheh,” she sighed, and he knew it was innocent: she didn’t know how dangerous it was to breathe his name like that, how it was fuel to an already raging fire, but he simply couldn’t stop himself.

  He growled against her neck and shoved his hands under the nightshirt, running them down the smooth skin of her back, over her round behind, and back up along her waist. Yenni jerked and cried out.

  In pain.

  Weysh froze, his smoldering ardor doused by icy horror. He scrambled up and away from her, and her wincing expression was like a lance through his heart.

  “I am so, so sorry, my love,” he whispered.

  “I’m all right,” she said breathlessly, but he still felt like the world’s tiniest rat prick.

  She patted the bed. “Come lie beside me.”

  He had passengers to ferry in less than an hour, but he did as she asked, and she snuggled under his arm. He held her gently, terrified of hurting her further, and placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

  “Your appointment was today, was it not? I didn’t hear from you—how did it go?”

  Ah Watcher, why did she have to remind him? He couldn’t begrudge her concern, but for a brief few moments he’d mercifully forgotten that he would never smell properly again.

  “The healer prescribed a sniffing potion, but she said not to expect too much. My sense of smell will never be what it was, if it even returns at all.”

  She turned in his arms, and she looked as heartsick as he felt. “You do not deserve this,” she said as she gently stroked his cheek. Weysh leaned into her soft caress. It had taken so long to get here, but she was finally his. He would d
o anything, anything to protect her. Including . . .

  “Perhaps you should go back to the Moonrise Isles.”

  Her fingers fell away. “What?”

  “If someone here is trying to hurt you, you should go.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Yenni—”

  “I cannot, Weh-sheh. I am on Orire N’jem.”

  “O-reer . . . come again?”

  She went silent, and when she finally spoke again Weysh sensed a weight to her words, as if she was revealing something secret, judging him worthy of it. “Orire N’jem is a sacred journey, undertaken to honor the Sha—our gods. I must complete the task they assign, and in return my tribe will receive their blessings.”

  “Ah, and what task is that?”

  “I came to Cresh to seek knowledge of Creshen magic, in the hope that the Sha would heal my father. I have pleased them, it seems, as they have revealed the cause of my father’s illness, but I pledged them a year of study in Cresh, and I cannot leave until that year is complete, or I will have broken my vow, insulting and angering them.”

  “Oh,” said Weysh. Simply “Oh.” He pushed down his first instinctive reaction—that Creshen notion that Islanders were notoriously superstitious. He knew for a fact that Yenni was neither ignorant nor uneducated, and truth be told her father had made a recovery. Perhaps he should be challenging her harder, but he didn’t particularly want her to leave.

  “Very well, if you won’t go home then you will live here with me, and I won’t hear otherwise.” He steeled himself to do verbal battle, but to his surprise she agreed.

  “Yes,” she said. “I must be close by to make sure you are safe.”

  “En? Erm, all right, then. Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

  “Weh-sheh,” she said softly. “I had a terrible dream that you were dying. I watched you fall from the sky. I worry that this attack came from the Gunzu—the tribe I am meant to marry into. I don’t know how it can be possible, but they may know about you. I could never leave you behind, at the mercy of Gunzu assassins.”

  “Is this other tribe why you haven’t yet told your family about me?”

  She turned away. “Partially, yes.”

  Partially. Hmph.

  “Yenni, we need to figure out what we’re going to do once the year ends. Would this prince really wage war if you rejected him?”

  “If he could convince his mother and father, and rally other tribes to his cause, it is possible. Never underestimate the pride of a prince.”

  Weysh fit his chin in the crook between her neck and shoulder, far too aware of how good she didn’t smell, and kissed her cheek.

  “I can’t fully blame him. I wouldn’t kill thousands of innocent people, but I’d at least want to land one good blow on the man who stole you from me. If I let him get in a free punch, right in the gut, do you think that would appease him?”

  “Oh, Weh-sheh,” Yenni sighed.

  “I hate this,” Weysh grumbled, dropping his humorous façade. “It’s like you’re being blackmailed, like my maman. How can your family allow this?”

  “It’s the way things have always been done,” she said simply.

  He squeezed her. “Yenni, I’m only one dragon—I doubt I can fight off an army, though if you asked me to, I’d try. And I’m not the heir to some long-lost kingdom, as much as I might wish it. But I promise you this: I will do my best to listen to you and take your needs and concerns to heart. I will respect you and cherish you as no other man will. Life with me will be tenfold better than life shackled to this prince.”

  “You think I do not know that?” she whispered, as if she was afraid to say it too loudly.

  Weysh ran his fingers through her hair. She’d taken to braiding it back and tying the braids up in a horsetail, in anticipation of flying. “Then why are you hesitating? We’re Given, Yenni. Everything will work out in the end. It must; it’s the will of Byen.”

  Yenni sighed. “The reason my father was sick was because he has been pulling too heavily on runes, strengthening the parasitic demon that is making him sick. He has been fighting a threat to our Island, but my mother cannot tell me what. And then for the Gunzu to potentially strike while my parents are already distracted—” She shook her head. “Weh-sheh, if you truly know me, then you know that until I am sure my family and my people will be safe, I cannot prioritize my own selfish desires.”

  “I know,” he said glumly. “And I wouldn’t be as thrice-damned loony for you if you could. So be it. Once the year is done I’ll fly you home, we’ll sort out the nature of this threat, and I’ll do everything in my power to help defeat it. Then we’ll deal with this prince.”

  Excellent: now he had a plan.

  But Yenni sighed again. “I know you are a big, strong, powerful dragon, but if this threat is giving my parents—the chieftain and chieftainess of the Yirba—such trouble, I doubt there is much you can do. If it was something that could be defeated with fangs and fire our armies would have dealt with it by now.”

  And just like that it was back, the sinking shame, that old heavy ache of not being enough. Weysh let her go and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Well at least I’m trying to find a solution. I should get ready. I have a run to make.”

  He heard the bedsheets whisper as she sat up after him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  He turned back to her. “Do you even want a future together?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I do, I truly do, but this is not a game, Weh-sheh. Someone attacked me.”

  She was right, and the sobering truth of it chased back his ego. “I’m sorry,” he said, and kissed her forehead. “Stay here until I return and we’ll report this to the peacekeepers.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Please,” he added. His diminished pride made room for insecurity and fear. A large part of him wanted to lock her away inside his house for the rest of the year, irrational as it was, but he knew what would happen if he smothered her. She could take care of herself, and he had to learn to trust her.

  “All right,” she said, acknowledging his plea.

  “Thank you, and in future try not to be anywhere isolated, and don’t be afraid to ask Harth or Zui or anyone for an escort when I’m not around.”

  “I will,” she said, and hugged him. “You as well, Weh-sheh. Be careful.”

  Weysh frowned as he stroked her back. No way in the deepest level of hell could someone try to kill his Given and get away with it. He would get to the bottom of this.

  34

  Weysh flew Yenni to a blue building with a white roof and sturdy white columns—the local peacekeepers headquarters. She gave her report to a stern-looking man with a bushy moustache, and then Weysh escorted her to the academy security building as well. At last he dropped her off at Devon’s runelore class, and took her right up to the door.

  “Be safe,” he said, before gently collecting his flight toll. Devon cleared his throat and Yenni broke off the kiss, her cheeks heating. Weysh simply winked at Devon and made his way to the lawn before changing and taking off.

  “Good morning, Yenni Ajani,” Devon said stiffly. He jerked his chin at the sky, in the direction of Weysh’s retreating form. “What did he mean when he said you should be safe?”

  Yenni told Devon about the attack.

  “Watcher above!” he cried, and his eyes scanned her up and down, concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “I am a little cut up, but otherwise fine. The worst of my wounds should heal in a few days.”

  Devon cringed. “I truly am sorry you were hurt, Yenni Ajani, but you’re a strong, resilient woman of the Isles. I’m sure you’ll bounce back just fine, en?”

  “Ah . . . yes.” Once again, Yenni experienced that strange uneasy sensation, so common since coming to Cresh. Devon was complimenting her, so why did his statement raise her defenses, like when doing verbal battle wi
th her cousins or rival royalty back home? What was he saying without saying?

  She didn’t get much chance to contemplate it, as his next statement definitely raised her hackles. “I thought you should know, my mentor, Gilles Desroches, heard back from the High Magus Council regarding the deception rune.”

  Yenni crossed her arms. “Did he,” she said flatly.

  “Yes. And not only did they refuse to acknowledge the superiority of the rune to its Creshen equivalent, they’ve declared it unsanctioned magic, so now it’s illegal to use it within the Empire!”

  “Wonderful!” said Yenni. She must still find a way to warn the Watatzi about that unscrupulous Gilles Desroches, but at least the rune would not be publicized.

  Devon’s eyebrows flew up. “But doesn’t that bother you? This is blatant prejudice! The deception rune is clearly a better alternative to Ibeena’s Sensory Illusion. They’ve only outlawed it to further perpetrate the notion that Creshen magic is superior to all magic!”

  Yenni shrugged. “If your Magi’s own ignorance keep them from reaping the benefits of a stolen rune, so much the better. Either way, there is nothing to be done about it now.”

  “Oh, Yenni Ajani,” said Devon, and he shook his head in disappointment. She didn’t hold back from rolling her eyes.

  “We should begin preparing for today’s lesson,” she said.

  “Oh! Oh yes, of course.” He stepped aside and Yenni entered the dim, creaky schoolroom. She went to the store cupboards and took out all the herbs and sap for runepaint, setting herself up on the long, wooden table up front. She felt Devon’s eyes on her, and caught him watching her intently, as if he had something more to say.

  “What is it?” she asked him.

  “I worry for you. But you’ll be just fine.” He nodded firmly to himself. “Just fine.”

  At sunset that day Weysh flew Yenni to mail home a letter that updated her family about the attack. She hated that she would cause them concern, but she was also concerned for them. If it truly was the Gunzu who were out for her, had they attacked her home as well? Praise all the Mothers and Fathers for her n’baba’s foresight. The runes on her palms, largely unchanged, were all that allowed her to sleep at night.