The God-Touched Man

by Melissa McShane

  He scowled at himself. His hat looked fine. He didn’t need a new one. He didn’t need half the hats he owned. He should have Mather give them away, though he wasn’t sure who’d want them.

  He was almost home when he realized someone was following him. He’d left behind the merchant district, with all its large windows that could double as mirrors in the right light, and he wasn’t stupid enough to turn around or increase his pace, so he couldn’t tell anything about the man except that he was very good. Why anyone would be following him was a mystery, doubly so when one considered how few people knew he’d returned home that day.

  He assessed his surroundings. It would be easier to return home, slip out the back, and take the man from behind, but Piercy was irritated—annoyed at Evon’s absence, at the thought of courting more interchangeable young ladies, at being followed in his own city for no reason. Now, how well did this man know Matra?

  At the next intersection, Piercy turned left instead of continuing onward, nodding and smiling at the elderly couple he passed. Down the street, take the second right, then duck quickly into the second door on the left, which was a small café very few people knew about. He waved at the serving girl, who always blushed when he stopped by, then stood close by the window where he couldn’t be seen from the outside and waited, counting, one, two, three.

  At four, Ayane walked past.

  Her appearance in Matra, so unexpected, startled him enough that he let her go by without hailing her. What would be the point? he thought, then shook that thought away. Ayane was here, she was following him, so it must be something important. He should speak to her and get it over with, whatever it was.

  He exited the café. Ayane’s pace had slowed, and she was looking about intently, searching for her lost quarry. She wore a Dalanese summer gown and a bonnet that imperfectly concealed her hair, once again a mass of braids. “Ayane,” he said.

  She turned around rapidly. “Piercy. I didn’t think you knew I was following you.”

  “I thought we were good enough friends you didn’t need to.”

  “I wasn’t really following you. I just wasn’t sure how to approach you.”

  “Again, friends are generally content with a civil ‘hello’ when they pass in the street.” It verged on the sarcastic, but the sight of her made his chest ache with a cold, throbbing pain. “I’m surprised to see you in Matra. I thought you had returned to Santerre.”

  “I did. I came back.”

  “So I see. Is this a pleasure visit, or has Santerre once again sent a diplomatic envoy to Dalanine?”

  “It’s not a diplomatic envoy. I’m here on my own.”

  The conversation was beginning to grate on his nerves. “Well, I hope you will enjoy your stay here, though I must say Matra is not at its most pleasant during the summer. I imagine it is quite clement compared to your homeland.”

  “It’s still—” Ayane turned her head away and spat out what sounded like a Santerran curse. “Piercy, I came to see you.”

  His heart thumped, painfully, before returning to its usual pace. “How kind,” he managed.

  “Would you stop that?”

  “Stop what?”

  “That…gentility. Stop holding me at a distance.”

  “I was under the impression you wanted that.”

  Ayane took several swift steps that brought her within touching distance. “Don’t tell me what I want.”

  “Then you tell me,” Piercy said, goaded into a stinging retort. “Tell me again that your name and your heritage are what matter to you. Tell me why you felt the need to come a thousand miles to torment me further. Then leave, and never return.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what my father said,” she said quietly. “He was so convinced of the importance of our undiluted ancestry, of how superior we are as Santerrans to everyone else. How little it mattered that the Dalanese fought beside us, in the end. I loved him, and I admired him, but he would have dragged Santerre down and kept it down instead of allowing it to recover from all those years of war. And I knew this about him. I just didn’t think it had anything to do with me.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “That’s not all. When I was in Bellema I watched the men and women of Cyrah’s government. So many of them are the kind of people my father would have looked down on as lesser—and yet they’re bright, and loyal, and they’re making Santerre better every day. I don’t think it occurs to many of them to wish they had noble blood. Piercy, I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t want to sacrifice my happiness for a dream of something that’s completely irrelevant.”

  “Your happiness—”

  “I love you, Piercy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Tell me it’s not too late.”

  He was still numb, but now it was from astonishment. “Ayane,” he began, but his mouth was too dry to continue. “Ayane, no.”

  She recoiled slightly. “What?”

  Piercy had to look away from those golden eyes. “You were right when you said love doesn’t solve every problem. How can we be happy when we are struggling, all the time, with our differences?”

  “What happened to love making it easier to bear those burdens because we’re acting as one?”

  “I admit to occasional bouts of unrealistic optimism.”

  “I don’t think it’s unrealistic at all. Piercy, you can’t tell me you don’t love me.”

  “Ayane, we will both be better off…you should find someone of your own culture—”

  “I was courted by half a dozen men of my own culture while I was in Bellema, and the whole time, all I could think of was you and your ridiculous lavender satin coat.”

  “That coat is the highest—”

  Her laughter cut off Piercy’s outrage. “You see?” she said. “It’s you I want, Piercy, you and your coat and the way you talk like you’re meeting the king. I want the man who brought me back from the dead. And I know I turned you down once and right now I’m terrified you’ll hold that against me, when what I want, more than anything, is to have that night back so I can finally say the right thing.”

  Her laughter was gone, her eyes bright, and she looked so much the way she had standing in the yellow light from the farm window that it made his heart ache. He took a step toward her, opened his arms, and she came to him, tilting her head for him to kiss her right there in the middle of the street.

  He pushed back her bonnet so he could stroke her silky braids, felt her put her arms around him and return his kiss as passionately as he’d ever dreamed. He kissed her again, drawing her even closer to feel her body against his, and she sighed, a tiny sound that thrilled through him.

  “I remember that sound,” he murmured against her cheek before kissing its soft curve. “You meant it when I kissed you in the garden that night.”

  “I did, but you were so sure of yourself, I was angry. So I pretended it was all a ruse.”

  “Well, I meant it when I kissed you, at least after the first kiss. I simply had no idea how much you would eventually mean to me.”

  She tilted her head back again to look at him with those golden eyes. “How much is that?” she teased.

  He kissed her, slowly, moving his hand up to bury it in her braids. They were soft and rippling to the touch. “Everything. My whole life. Everything I am, is yours.”

  “Even if I ask you to move to Santerre with me?”

  “I will go wherever you ask. Though I worry that you will have no role to play in your government.”

  “I told Cyrah what I intended, that I was going to marry you, and she thought it was an excellent idea. She said no one would suspect me of being her spymaster if I was married to a Dalanese. So you needn’t worry about that.”

  “I feel a slight discomfort at being your camouflage, but it is entirely negated by my desire to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

  “Are you sure? There will be people who call you a pale, and worse.
You’ll be a foreigner your whole life.”

  “I am accustomed to being thought less than I am. So long as you love me, I think I can endure.”

  “Our children won’t look like either of us. They’ll fight prejudice and misunderstanding.”

  “Then we will teach them strength, you and I together.”

  “Will you take my name? I know it’s not your tradition.”

  “The Faranters have plenty of scions to carry on the name. They won’t miss me.”

  Ayane smiled at him. “Will you marry me? And love me forever?”

  Piercy smiled back. “Agreed,” he said.

  Santerran Pronunciation Guide

  Ayane—eye-AH-nay

  Caligwe—cah-LEE-gway

  Cyrah—SEER-ah

  Dolobeka—doh-loh-BECK-ah

  Hathakuni—hath-ah-KOO-nee

  Jendaya—jen-DYE-ah

  Kinfe—KEEN-fay

  Sethemba—seth-EM-bah

  Command Words and Spells

  cleperi—“hear,” in combination with other command words alters hearing or sound; also used in translation spells.

  desini—“stop,” turns off a working spell, among other things.

  desini cucurri—“stop move,” paralysis spell.

  eloqua—“speak,” long-distance communication spell; requires both parties to have a mirror, but can be performed by even the least experienced magicians.

  epiria—“reveal,” make a spell visible. Usually requires a lens of some kind, but can be done with a rune circle for larger areas.

  epiria sepera—“reveal go,” preparation for mapping spell.

  forva—“burn”

  frigo—“break,” make things shatter. Only works on dry things, like wood or bone.

  lenquati—“distance,” with epiria, a mapping spell that reveals the distance between two locations.

  madi—“center,” specifically the human heart or other vital organs when used with vertiri.

  presadi—“guard,” shield spells. Type of shield depends on the gesture used.

  reperto—“find,” locator spell. Requires item belonging to or identified with whatever you're seeking, or thorough knowledge of subject.

  sepera—“go,” used mostly as a trigger to make very complicated spells with multiple command words operate at the right times. Also the command word to dismiss desini cucurri.

  solto spexa—“open see,” cast on lenses for distance viewing. Can be cast on eyes, but this is not recommended.

  sustelli—“lift,” telekinesis spell.

  torpia—“body,” used in healing spells to link other command words to specified parts of the body.

  vertiri—“change,” used in biokinetic/healing spells. A preparatory word to attune a spell to something living.

  vertiri + manis confundi—“change mind confuse,” temporary madness spell.

  About the Author

  Melissa McShane is the author of the novels of Tremontane, including SERVANT OF THE CROWN, RIDER OF THE CROWN, and AGENT OF THE CROWN, as well as EMISSARY and THE SMOKE-SCENTED GIRL. Her most recent series, The Extraordinaries, begins with the novel BURNING BRIGHT. After a childhood spent roaming the United States, she settled in Utah with her husband, four children, three very needy cats, and a library that continues to grow out of control. She wrote reviews and critical essays for many years before turning to fiction, which is much more fun than anyone ought to be allowed to have. You can visit her at her website www.melissamcshanewrites.com for more information on other books and upcoming releases.

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  Cover design by Clarissa Yeo www.yocladesigns.com

  Dedicated to the readers who wanted to know more about Piercy