Tara

by Jennifer Bene

  “Why aren’t you ready to receive guests?” Her master’s voice snapped out behind her, and she winced. The Greek came back to her like no time had passed at all.

  “What?” Tara really had no idea what he was talking about.

  “I told Leonidas to prepare you for my guests.” She heard him pour the wine behind her and take a deep drink. He must have been in his cups already, because his voice slurred a little.

  “What guests, kyrios?” She used the Greek term for master that he preferred, hoping to put him in a good mood.

  “The droungarios you snubbed today.” He was angry already, but she really didn’t know what he was talking about. Not like it would matter. The Roman strategos demanded ultimate respect in his camp, and there was no one ranked above him outside of the capital. No one to rein him in.

  “What?” She turned her head slightly, looking up at him with confusion. She had not done anything to the droungarios.

  “Do you have no other vocabulary?” He slammed his wine cup down on the table and stepped in front of her. She ground her teeth together for a moment trying to stay calm as he yelled at her, but as usual – she failed.

  “I have done nothing!” Tara raised her voice trying to get through to him, but the backhand he delivered that rattled her teeth and made her taste copper may not have been worth the outburst.

  “Is your mind so weak as to have already forgotten that you walked past my droungarios and ignored their greetings to you? That you acted as if you were above them?” He spoke through gritted teeth, fuming as he stood above her.

  “I only left your tent for water today, kyrios, I was nowhere near your droungarios.” She made eye contact with him and spoke clearly, trying to make him see she was telling the truth.

  “So you call them liars?” He roared at her and her temper flared in response. The fire in her stomach at how unfair this was grew and she didn’t even try to bite her tongue.

  “They are liars!” Tara screamed back, and this time when he slapped her and her head snapped to the side he didn’t stop with the strike. Grabbing her by her hair he wrenched her to her feet and slammed her head down onto the table, a white burst of pain in her cheek bringing tears to her eyes.

  “You are a whore! A slave!” He hissed the word through his teeth and it only increased her rage. “You don’t have the right to speak of them like that, you will respect them.” He growled the words as he bent her over the table. Her lip was split from the slap and she tasted blood in her mouth, but her temper had spiked and she couldn’t think straight.

  “I won’t accept a punishment for something I haven’t done, kyrios!” Planting her hands on the table she tried to push herself up. Using all of her strength she was able to lift herself even with her master pressing her down and the bands pulsing pain up her arms in time with his angry breaths.

  “Stop, Tara!” He yelled the command down at her and the bands responded quickly, the aching pain made her ribs feel like they were breaking and it buckled her arms so she slammed back into the table. “Behave or I’ll have you whipped for my soldiers’ entertainment after your punishment is done!”

  Biting back the urge to scream, she spit out the blood in her mouth as he held her down by her neck. “You don’t get to punish me for imagined offenses, kyrios.” She spoke through clenched teeth, knowing she was pressing her luck with the tone she’d said his title. His laughter made her stomach drop, and it was then that she recognized other male voices were approaching from outside the tent.

  “Oh, I’m not punishing you.” He laughed and continued, “After all, you didn’t offend me, you offended my droungarios.” More laughter from her master and then the others. All the heat of the rage fled her, replaced with fear that made her shake.

  Why did she always let her mouth override her mind?

  “No, kyrios. I didn’t-“ She tried to push herself up again so she could explain but he grabbed the back of her neck and cracked her head against the table. The blinding pain stunned her for a moment.

  One of the droungarios grabbed her arms from the other side of the table, and leaned his face close to hers. “Don’t fight, it’ll be worse if you fight.”

  Her memories were nothing more than a fog of pain and rage at that point. Their hands on her, their dark words, every hole abused until they’d had their fill. The night had passed until she was the only one awake. Every part of her ached and when she felt a hand in the small of her back she didn’t have anything left to fuel her defiance or keep the whimper out of her voice, “Please. No more.”

  “Shh.” A deep voice was above her and it soothed her as a large hand brushed the hair out of her face. The shadow of a figure crouched in front of her and the ropes she’d been bound with were undone. Gentle arms wrapped a tunica around her and lifted her like she weighed nothing, curling her against a broad chest as she was carried silently outside. She knew who it was though, couldn’t mistake him for anyone else in the world.

  “Leonidas.” She said his name and her voice cracked, and he tucked her closer to him in his lap as he sat down in the open air.

  “I’m here, Tara, and I’m so sorry.” His voice was low and rumbling like it always was - her gentle giant.

  “Kyrios said you were supposed to have come to me. Who stopped you?” Tara didn’t need to look at him to know the pained expression on his face, or the way his dark curls rested on his shoulders, or how even now he might pull his lower lip into his mouth as he debated his response.

  “It doesn’t matter now.” His large hand tilted her face to look at him and he ran his thumb just under her split lip. His blue eyes locked with her own, full of regret and sympathy as he traced every injury.

  “Did they hurt you?” she asked. She could tell he was hurting too, and his arms hugged her a little tighter than necessary. The answer was yes, and he needed her presence as much as she needed his.

  “Not as badly as you’ve been hurt, philos.” His voice was more soothing than any herb, and the way he called her his ‘beloved friend’ always warmed her to her core. At 6’ 6” he towered over every soldier in the camp, but he was never violent, even when it was well-deserved. He was cool water to her boiling inferno. Sanity to her blinding rage.

  “Are you okay?” Tara laid her hand against his and he turned his hand and held hers.

  “I’m better now that I’m with you.”

  “It’s always better when you’re with me too. Bound together, right?” She started to smile but the pain in her split lip stopped her.

  Breathing against her hair she felt him nod before he placed a soft kiss into the top of her hair. “Look at the sky, Tara, it’s going gray. Dawn will be here any minute, and the pain will go away.”

  Sitting up so that she was pressed closer to him, she twisted in his lap and ignored the pain to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders in an embrace. “Eltera’s light can ease some of your pain with mine. Hold on to me.” It was never as effective as it was with her but anything would help. Some nights she wondered if Eltera purposefully let her power overflow to help Leonidas.

  It was a nice thought.

  “It’s dawn, philos, time to wake up.” His voice vibrated his chest, and she closed her eyes against the coming light. She didn’t want to let go.

  “I don’t want to leave you Leonidas. I don’t want to be without you again.” She felt his arms around her as the tingle of Eltera’s power moved over her.

  “Wake up, Tara.” Leonidas’ voice was a little stronger as he spoke, but she wanted to hold on, she didn’t want to be alone again.

  She didn’t want him to disappear.

  Not again.

  A gasp came out of her as she opened her eyes and found herself on the couch with her right arm twisted at an awkward angle above her head, the cuff cutting into her even as the skin beneath it healed with Eltera’s light.

  Leonidas was gone… but Leonidas had been gone long before she slept.

  Without the music the nightmares had come
back. A horrible highlight reel of her life just waiting for her to fall asleep to start back up.

  Tara’s skin was glowing brightly as Eltera’s power suffused throughout her skin and the cuts on her foot and arm and wrist tingled as they closed. Golden light, the power of the gods, coursing through her like it always did at dawn.

  So. Fucking. Useless.

  Sitting up to ease the strain on the cuff she took a deep breath as the scent of rain filled the room. Tara wondered if Eltera knew how far she’d fallen. If she knew that the girl she healed was no longer a Faeoihn, but some useless whore. Tara was no more a warrior than she was the king of England.

  Looking up through the gray light from the windows she jumped when she saw the soldier, awake, sitting in a chair across from her. She was afraid for a moment until she saw the shock on his face, his mouth open in an unspoken moment of absolute confusion.

  “Please don’t freak out.” Tara sounded like she was talking to a wild animal. Mortals traditionally hadn’t reacted graciously to someone lighting up like a beacon at random.

  “Wha- Why- How are you glowing?” He stumbled through the question.

  “That’s a very long story, will you uncuff me please?” The memories from her nightmare made her sick and the handcuff was keeping them too close to the surface for her to think straight.

  “What?” His eyes started to focus again as he looked at her.

  “Can you please remove the handcuff?” She glanced at it and fought the rise of panic in her chest.

  The soldier rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath before he walked over. Slipping a small key into one side of the handcuff he unlatched it from her wrist, and his eyes stayed glued to the dried blood on her skin. “Your wrist -”

  “- is fine.” Tara finished, pulling the bandage off the arm she had cut the night before. She held it out to him, showing the neatly healed skin under a bloody crust. “Just like my arm.”

  “What the fuck?!” He stepped back from her, a mixture of fear and anger on his face.

  “I thought you should at least vaguely know what you’re getting into, even if you don’t want details.” Crumpling the bloody bandage in her hand she turned so she was sitting normally on the couch. The bloodstains on the robe had dried to a rust color, just like the lingering blood on her skin – she really needed a shower and clean clothes.

  “What are you?!” He spoke louder than he needed to, but she had known he’d panic when this happened. It was why she had made sure she had an injury to show him so he knew what Eltera’s light did.

  “Faeoihn.”

  “What?!” He yelled again, and she fought the urge to wince.

  “Fay-oh-een,” she enunciated slowly. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you understand that those men that came after us last night aren’t just going to give up.” Tara pushed a hand through her hair and realized she had turned it into a nest of tangles in the night. “What I am is… rare. There are only about a hundred others like me in the world, and that’s if all my sisters still live. Which I doubt.”

  It’s not like she should be alive, why should they be?

  “Oh my God.” The soldier spoke to himself as he collapsed back into the chair he’d been sitting in, not even looking at her anymore.

  “Well, about that, might as well rip off the band aid while you’re already in shock. The gods are real as well. All of them.” She spoke clearly and calmly, and his eyes came up to look at her again. “I’m the result of two gods: one who made me immortal and a warrior, and another who enslaved me for eternity.” The last words left a bitter taste in her mouth like the memory of blood.

  “You’re insane.” His voice was flat and emotionless as he stared blankly at her.

  Shock.

  “No, I’m immortal.” Tara shrugged and eyed him carefully. “You look like you might be losing it though, could you take a deep breath before you pass out?”

  “I’m not going to pass out!”

  “You look kind of pale.” She taunted him a little - the more she could get him to respond the less likely she’d have him on the floor. A ghost of a smile went across her face because of how irritated he looked. Other than when she’d cut herself, this was the only emotion he’d really shown, and with the flush in his cheeks he actually looked handsome.

  “I’m fine!” He yelled at her while he rubbed his hands across his face as if he were trying to wipe away the memory of that morning.

  Good luck with that.

  “Alright. Well, I wanted you to understand so you could decide if you still want me as a job. If not, you can leave me here and I assure you those men will find me. Or someone else will.” She sat back and crossed her legs under the robe.

  “And you don’t care about that?” He looked at her over one of his hands that half-covered his face.

  “One master is no different than another.” Not exactly true, but it’s not like she had a choice.

  “So why did you come with me so willingly last night?!” The stress in his voice revealed how much it bothered him that she hadn’t fought him at all. Maybe he preferred it when girls fought? Probably not. He’d been careful with her. He had even turned around when she’d stripped, and when she’d come out of the shower. That hadn’t happened in… a very long time.

  “You killed my last master, Gianni, didn’t you?” He nodded as if he was shocked she knew that fact. “Then by the rules of war you have the right to claim the spoils of his house. Namely, me. But you don’t seem interested.”

  “I was hired to deliver you, not claim you as spoils or anything else.” He looked confused again.

  “Alright then, deliver me.” Tara leaned back on the couch and started to try and clean the blood from under her nails. Her manicure was ruined. She should just peel off the polish.

  This would all be so much easier if she just knew what the new master wanted from her.

  “I can’t.” The soldier growled, gripping his hair. “According to my contact last night, the client is out of the country right now. I’m supposed to hold you until he gets back, and before you say anything I already told him he needs to make it ASAP.”

  Tara shrugged. “Okay. So what do you want to do with me?”

  Chapter Seven

  Alaric’s head hurt. A lot. The girl still wasn’t wearing clothes, and she was streaked with blood like some kind of extra in a teen horror flick.

  Oh, and apparently she glowed. Actually glowed.

  He had woken up over an hour before dawn because she had been whimpering in her sleep, and he already slept so lightly that there was no way he’d sleep through that. It was torture to listen to. She’d sounded so afraid. He’d come into the living room and sat down, trying to decide if he should wake her up, but then she had calmed down. Her face had smoothed and the name Leonidas had slipped from her perfect lips several times.

  Then… she had started glowing. At first it had been like the bathroom light was on and she was in the path of the light, but as it grew brighter, edging from that dim amber-gold to a vibrant, pale golden light – it was obvious she was the source.

  Which was insane.

  He rubbed his hands over his face and realized he still smelled like gunpowder. He hadn’t showered yet because he didn’t know if he could leave her alone. After the conversation with Luca last night he hadn’t known what to expect – but it hadn’t been this. Luca had said he had learned more about the girl and that she was ‘weird’, and that he ‘shouldn’t be worried if anything strange happened, just hold on to her until the drop time’. Then, as usual for Luca, he had refused to elaborate.

  So, weird apparently meant the girl glowed, and healed herself. The girl also referred to him as human, and said she was created by gods. If he hadn’t seen the glow, and that deep cut on her arm all knitted back together like it had never existed, he would have called her crazy, but now?

  Fuck. What did he want to do with her?

  Looking up at her he was taken aback b
y how withdrawn she looked, her blue eyes were focused somewhere on the floor as she waited calmly for him to decide what was next. He believed her that she would do whatever he wanted, and that kind of control made him a little uncomfortable.

  “Why don’t you take a shower? They delivered a box of clothes for you yesterday, and I think there’s some other things in it.” He pointed at it where he’d tucked it against the wall. “Plus, I can’t have you walking around covered in blood.”

  Her eyes snapped up to his with a spark of hope. “You’re taking me outside?”

  How could he say no when just the idea of it had pulled her out of whatever melancholy her nightmares had brought on?

  “Yeah, I don’t want to spend all day inside, and I’d like to spend more than a few hours in that car.”

  “Okay!” Her A-List smile came back, lighting up her face even though most of the actual glowing light had faded from her skin. She moved over to the box against the wall and started digging through it. Out of it came skirts and dresses and shirts and undergarments, bars of milk soap, a bottle of perfume, and a small zippered bag that probably held makeup.

  Since when did Luca know about any of this stuff? Maybe he had a girlfriend. That would be a revelation.

  “Wow, it’s like you took all of this from Gianni’s house.” Her hands were carefully refolding the clothes that he had rummaged through the day before.

  “So, it’s good?” Alaric asked, trying not to stare as she knelt by the box, her robe gaping so he could see the round of her breast. He tore his eyes away.

  “If this is what you want me in, of course.” Her response sounded truthful, but it was too quick, too automatic. Gianni must have liked to play dress-up with her.

  “I didn’t buy any of that, it showed up yesterday. Would you rather have something else?”

  She turned and smiled brightly at him, a bundle of clothes in her arms and a bar of the milk soap in one hand. “I don’t need anything. Thank you, sir.”

  “Alaric.” He corrected her before he realized it and his teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth. Shit. He’d told her his real name too, and the name on the room was different.