“Of course you would use profanity with the Lead Templar of Blacksun.”
“By now she’s used to it.”
“You’re good at pushing people past their normal boundaries, aren’t you?” But without her front, Salomen couldn’t make the question sound like anything more than it was: a statement of her own discomfort. After a pause she added, “Thank you for letting me in. It feels better knowing that you’re just as nervous as I am.”
“If all you sense is a case of nerves, then we need to work on your skills.”
A familiar crinkle appeared above her nose as she concentrated on sensing more deeply. “You’re afraid…of me? Why?”
Tal looked at her askance. “Wasn’t it just this morning you were apologizing for hurting me? I can’t imagine the power you’ll have as this develops.”
“Exactly as much power as you’ll have over me. You’re not the only one who has been hurt.”
Well, that was true. Tal had conveniently forgotten her own apology. “After listening to Lanaril today, I can assure you I’ll never call this a joke again.”
“Ah. And you think that was the first time?” Salomen shook her head. “You’ve hurt me since the day you arrived. It hurt when you showed me a glimpse of yourself on our first night of training and then went back to being the Lancer. You gave me something precious, and then you took it away again. Every night after that you did the same thing. You have no understanding of how intimidating you can be; when you’re fronting, it’s like nothing is there at all. I kept seeing glimpses of the real woman behind that front, and I found myself drawn to her, but then you would take her away and present me with that impenetrable wall. And all the while you kept asking me those questions. You were learning about me, but I wasn’t allowed to learn about you.”
“I was teaching you. It’s not appropriate—”
“Stop hiding behind that! It was never just about being my teacher and you know it. It was about holding the upper hand. So I’m wondering if you’re really afraid of me hurting you, or if you’re just afraid of us being on equal footing.”
“That is the most—” Tal snapped her mouth shut before she could start another argument.
“Why would you be so angry right now if there wasn’t some truth in that?” Salomen asked.
“Because you just called me a coward!”
“I did not ca—”
“Of course you did! Who else is afraid of a fair fight but a coward?”
“Is that what this is? A fair fight?”
Tal let out a growl of pure frustration and tried to pull her hand back, but Salomen held it in a surprisingly strong grip.
“I have never thought you were a coward,” she said. “But I do think you’ve spent your life climbing through a power structure, all the way to the top. And you didn’t get there by letting anyone close enough to see your vulnerabilities.”
Tal relaxed her hand as her anger drained away. “You sound like you’ve been studying the Truth and the Path.”
It was a feeble joke, but Salomen nodded. “I had to figure you out one way or another.”
“You and your research,” Tal grumbled, though there was no heat in it. The anger had gone as quickly as it had come, and now she just felt tired. “I don’t even know what we’re doing here. This all started because I wanted to make you feel better.”
Salomen let out a soft snort. “I guess we need some practice at this.”
“Words for Fahla.” Tal turned her hand over, watching as Salomen clasped it. “Perhaps we just need to trust her. Neither of us had the other in mind when we dreamed of our tyrees, but she’s already given us more than we were able to imagine for ourselves.”
“It’s not trust in Fahla that I have an issue with.”
That stung, but it wasn’t as if Tal didn’t feel the same way.
“I’m sorry,” Salomen began, but Tal shook her head.
“No, don’t apologize. I deserve that.”
“But it’s not just me. You don’t trust me either.”
It was really just a political negotiation, Tal thought. They were two warring parties who had found common cause and were poised to sign a binding peace treaty. But they each had a pen in one hand and a sword in the other.
“We have to lay down our swords,” she said without thinking.
“What?”
“We have to learn to trust each other. Somehow.”
The room was silent while she contemplated their clasped hands and wondered how long they had before even this set off a flash.
“If we are to learn that,” Salomen said slowly, “then I need to know something.”
“I’ll tell you anything in my power.”
She felt Salomen gathering herself; this was clearly a critical piece of information.
“Who was she? The one you loved? Because I don’t understand how you can accept our tyree bond as you seem to when you have someone else in your heart.”
Stunned by the last question she had expected, Tal pulled her hand back. This time Salomen let her go, watching as she rose and turned away.
“How much do you know?” Tal asked, her gaze on the darkening landscape.
“I know it was one of the Gaian aliens. I felt it when you shared your memory of the warmron. And I felt it again this morning, on our way to the fields—a love you’re still mourning a cycle after they left. I don’t know how to compete with a memory.”
“There is no competition.” Salomen had sensed all that? Through her front? She ran her hands through her hair and waited for the right words to come. But there was no way out of this other than the truth.
Turning back, she held out a hand. “Come and sit with me.”
She pulled Salomen out of the chair and led her to the window seat, letting her settle in before taking her usual spot on the opposite end of the cushion. With her back against the wall, she folded her legs beneath her and faced her future tyree.
“Her name was Ekatya Serrado. She was the captain of the ship.”
“Of course it was their leader.” Salomen’s mental retreat was instantaneous.
“And she was a bonded tyree,” Tal continued, watching as all of Salomen’s assumptions ground to a halt.
“What?” she whispered.
“The Gaians are all sonsales, but it seems they’re capable of tyree bonds. At least, these two were.”
“You loved another’s tyree?”
“I loved a woman who understood power and the demands of a heart that belonged to something bigger than herself. A woman who recognized the role I play and still saw me as a person. She was not just their leader, and she understood that I’m not just the Lancer.”
“She saw the thinking, feeling Alsean,” Salomen said.
Tal recognized her own words from that morning. “Yes, she did. And I had never before had that experience. Not from someone I’d just met.”
“Did she know how you felt?”
“Not until right before she left. Even then I wouldn’t have said anything, but her bondmate encouraged me.”
Salomen slumped against the wall. “I can’t believe it. Her bondmate told you to speak?”
“She said Ekatya would understand. And she was right.”
“So you told Ekatya…what? That you loved her?”
Tal had to remind herself that it was Salomen asking the question. This was the one person on Alsea who had the right to know.
It still took a moment to get her voice to work.
“I told her that had she not been tyree, I would have pursued more than a friendship.”
“What did she say?”
“She said…” Tal cleared her throat. “She said that had she not been tyree, I would have succeeded.”
She looked out the window, clenching her jaw to force back the tears that threatened. Taking slow,
deep breaths, she tried to box up the emotions—and failed. Speaking it aloud had made compartmentalization impossible.
Time stretched out in painful silence as she listened to the maelstrom of emotions that emanated from Salomen. For someone who was trying to convince a reluctant tyree, she had certainly started off with her worst move.
But the emotions shifted, and Tal couldn’t understand where that compassion came from. She didn’t deserve it.
“Thank you for telling me,” Salomen said at last. “I can feel what that cost you, and I promise your trust is not misplaced.”
Tal could only nod, her gaze locked on the distant mountains.
“And I don’t wonder anymore why she’s still in your heart.”
That brought her head around. “Why?”
Leaning forward, Salomen brushed a lock of hair behind Tal’s ear. “Because she is the dream you touched but could not hold. And sometimes that’s worse than never touching the dream at all.” She let her fingers continue their journey, gently sifting the strands of hair, and Tal felt all of her bones turning to liquid. “Had she told you she could never have loved you, I think you would have been able to put aside her memory more easily. You would only have had to forget your own emotion. But her words meant you had to forget both your emotions and hers. And you cannot do that, can you?”
“I tried,” Tal whispered. “And it worked, after a while. I really thought I was over it. But this morning it all came up again, as strong as ever.”
“In the skimmer.”
She nodded miserably.
“Andira…” Salomen’s voice changed, carrying a note of tenderness. “That was my fault. And I’m truly sorry, but—maybe it was for the best. I understand now. I know how I hurt you so easily, without meaning to. But I can heal you as well, and that’s something Ekatya Serrado could never do.”
“Why not?” Tal’s eyes were closing at the sensual touch.
“Because she could not love you.” Salomen’s fingers slipped from her hair and lifted her chin. “But I can.”
They were deep into the kiss before Tal’s dazed mind processed the last words she had heard. In an instant her bones solidified, and she surged up to bury her hands in Salomen’s hair. The kiss turned passionate as they both forgot their fears and allowed themselves to feel the bond that pulsed between them. It was so strong, almost a physical entity. How had she not felt it before? Why—?
This time the empathic flash tore them apart, sending them crashing back against the window seat’s walls. They stared at each other, panting, unable to move until the electricity finally drained from their bodies.
“Shek,” Tal groaned, holding one hand to her throbbing forehead. “This is going to kill us. Lanaril was right, it’s stronger every time.”
Salomen couldn’t even speak, simply whimpering as she held her head in both hands.
Tal pushed herself across the seat and reached out, then let her hand drop. “I wish I could help you, but I’d only make it worse.”
“Hard to imagine worse than that.” Salomen raised her head. “We won’t be able to join, will we? If just kissing hurts this much, I think joining might put us in the healing center. Even assuming we were physically capable of it, which I doubt given the way I feel right now.”
“I think you’re right. Though I wish you weren’t.”
“It’s all backwards. We can’t join until we Share, and the moment we Share we’re bonded, and the moment we’re bonded we’re empathically connected for life. Great Fahla above, whoever heard of Sharing before joining? Much less bonding. It’s like buying a shipment of horten seed without ever seeing any of it first.”
“Thank you very much!”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I think joining is the least of our concerns. I have no doubt that joining with you will be worth the wait.”
That earned her an open smile, but it soon faltered. “If the flashes are this bad already, what will it be like when we actually Share?”
“I don’t know. Lanaril read me something out of an old text, and it referred to a conflagration when tyrees like us bond. So I think it’s safe to assume we’ll get hit with something substantial.” She realized what she had said. “If we decide to Share, that is. I don’t mean to imply that it’s a certainty.”
“Isn’t it?” Salomen dropped her head again, rubbing her temples. “We don’t seem to have any choice in this. And even without the bond, what you said is true: our hearts would have spoken. They’ve been pulling at us for a while now, I think. It’s what brought you here.”
“The challenge is what brought me here.” But Tal was beginning to wonder.
“It was more than that, Andira. That’s what I sensed the night I accidentally probed you. I just didn’t recognize it then.” She sighed, resting her hands in her lap. “I’m trying to keep up with this, truly I am. My heart is already there; it’s just my mind that needs to catch up.”
Tal thought of her comment about it being all backwards and had a moment of inspiration. Sliding off the window seat, she offered a formal bow.
“Raiz Salomen Opah, I have never before known anyone like you. And I would like to know you better. Will you have evenmeal with me tomorrow night?”
An amused comprehension spread across Salomen’s emotions. “Are you asking for permission to court me?”
“I am. For now, there is no bond and no pressure. No certainty of a fate that did not consult us. This is just you and me.”
“Just you and me? Now that’s an intriguing combination.” Salomen stood up, her pleasure a welcome warmth to Tal’s senses. “I’m honored by your attention, Lancer Tal. But I must warn you, I have little respect for authority. I will not treat you as you’re accustomed to being treated.”
“A happy coincidence, since what I seek is one who sees past my authority.”
“In that case, I would be delighted to accept your invitation.”
They stared at each other with silly grins before Tal remembered something. “Shek. I have no idea where to take you. I don’t know where the good restaurants are in Granelle.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re courting a native. I know them all.”
“Which is the best one?”
“Meadowgreen, but it’s impossible to get a table there without reserving it half a moon in advance. We could go—”
“Never mind,” Tal interrupted. “We’ll go to Meadowgreen.”
“Are you not listening? I just said—”
“I know what you just said. And I’m telling you that we’re going to Meadowgreen.”
“Are you always this commanding?”
“In my public life, yes. In private, no. But I’m trying to impress you.”
Salomen laughed. “If you can get us into Meadowgreen on one day’s notice, I’ll be impressed. I know the owner; he once courted my mother. I thought that connection might give me an edge in getting a reservation on short notice, but do you know what he told me?”
“What?”
“He said he could not change the schedule, not even for the Lancer herself.”
“I suspect that what he said to you and what he will say to a call from the Office of the Lancer are two very different things.”
“Ha. You don’t know Corsine. He defines the word snob.”
“No, I don’t know him, but I do know Alsean nature. We’re going to Meadowgreen tomorrow night.”
“Do you have a fallback plan, o confident one?”
“I always do.” Tal winked. “May I return for you at eve-two tomorrow night?”
“I’ll be waiting.” Salomen gave her a mock frown. “But I’d better see you in the fields long before that.”
“I won’t neglect my duties. You’ll see me in the morning.”
“You’re still seeing me now. Don’t think you’
re getting away with not training me two nights in a row.”
“But I’m not the one—” Tal stopped at the amused look on her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Shall we start, then?”
CHAPTER 49
All nighter
Micah hummed an old marching cadence as he buckled his belt and began clipping on his gear. Given the minuscule amount of sleep he had gotten, it was a wonder he was in such a good mood.
He smiled. No, it wasn’t. Not after last night.
Late in the evening Tal had knocked on his door and dragged him off to Blacksun, and during the flight she told him that his prayer had been answered. Not that she knew that, of course, but when she revealed her true relationship with Salomen, he realized with a chill that Fahla was listening to the prayers of an old warrior. Not in four lifetimes would he have imagined Salomen as Tal’s tyree, but Fahla did not make mistakes.
A producer and the Lancer; wasn’t that going to blow up the Blacksun gossip circuit? He could hardly wait. And the very next time he was in a temple, he would burn a worthy offering to Fahla in gratitude.
They sent the military transport back with a Guard, met briefly with Aldirk—whose pleasure at their reappearance vanished when he realized Tal had not returned for good—and picked out appropriate clothing from Tal’s quarters for her date the next night. Had they been mature adults, they would have returned in Tal’s personal transport then. Instead they spent the night drinking in her quarters, returning so late that Micah had managed just two hanticks of sleep and had no right to be feeling as good as he did right now.
“And you,” he said as he looked out the window, “are completely insane.”
There was Tal in her usual running clothes, smiling and talking with her Guards. Even as he watched, she turned and set off, her smooth pace showing no signs of their long night.
Micah shook his head. “Good thing you have no plans to join tonight,” he muttered. “I doubt Salomen would be impressed if you fell asleep halfway through.”
His amusement faded when Herot appeared, looking after the runners with his hands on his hips. The young man was also dressed for exercise but stood motionless as he watched Tal and her Guards. Once the runners had vanished over the crest of the hill, he set off after them.
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