by Miya Kressin
Feeling the chilled ground beneath us, I fought to keep the mirth and confusion I felt out of my voice. “The only thing being muddied is my dress, thank you so very much, Blacksmith.”
When Cade looked down at me, he was not seeing the girl he had spent his childhood running after, nor did he see the priestess, just the womanly Roseen. The hunger in his eyes made my thighs part to cradle his body, my breasts swell, and I felt like the ripe berries that drip with juice when plucked from the vine. It had been years since I had been with anyone, years since I had felt such desire for anyone outside of my memories.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that, Lady. It isn’t safe.” Corded muscle rippled beneath his flesh as Cade pushed up onto his hands, his pain forgotten.
Shoving him off me, I laughed and rolled away, gaining my feet in a swift, well-practiced motion even as he scurried after to loom over me. “As if you’d hurt me, Cadey-cat.”
Painful bliss shooting through me coaxed a heated whimper as Cade surprised me with a series of bites down my neck, his body a fiery shadow of my own. “I’d never do you harm, Rose, but that doesn’t mean I won’t leave marks.” I jerked away as his hands gripped my ribs. “Roseen, you can’t deny the burning between us. I’ve seen your soul. There’s room there if you open the door.”
We began a game of cat and mouse. I stepped back, and he followed, keeping me just within his grasp should he try to reach me. “Afraid, Rose?” That hungry look claimed his face again; his lips parted, and I could see the tip of his tongue moisten the center of the bottom curve.
“N-n-no.” My back hit the tree as he advanced, and I could go no further without darting away, which I wasn’t certain I wanted to do.
“You don’t, Lady,” Aya whispered into my ear.
I was startled by Aya’s words, so much so that I found my eyes glued to the deeply tanned flesh Cade unveiled inch by inch. His fingers unbuttoned his shirt and vest with rapid movements I could not follow for fear of looking away from his skin. My question of what he was doing died on my lips as a scatter of dark hair was revealed. His cocky smile held the arrogance of a man who was comfortable in his own skin. What beautiful skin it was.
“The wind is picking up, and you’re going to freeze when that muddy water soaks in. Take it off. I’ll be fine in my undershirt and vest.”
I turned away from Cade, determined to not be told what I would and would not do, and strode but three steps before my feet were swept out from under me. “Dammit, Roseen, I will not let you get sick with all the work ahead of you.” Indignation and pure stubbornness made me kick and pinch, struggling to get away. “You are a demon when you do not get your way.” Steel bands wrapped in skin tightened; his sheer strength far outweighed my determination. “I’ll carry you home now, or you can change while I turn my back. Your choice, Roseen.” It did not seem like much of a choice.
The purely male scent that clung to his shirt draped me in more warmth than the cotton and wool offered. After I wriggled out of my wet dress, Cade’s garb hung to my knees, and the sleeves were far too long even when cuffed. My back stiffened at the sound of ripping fabric.
Holding up a hand to stave off my tirade, Cade was already attempting to get out of trouble. “I’ll buy you a new skirt in the market tomorrow. You need a belt, Lady.” With a pale floral sash about my waist, and one tying up the sleeves from shoulder to wrist hem on each side, I could move about unhampered. If I was pleased by how it felt to wear Cade’s shirt, he was doubly so. His eyes had taken on that craving gleam again. “It may be the man in me, but I sure like how you look in that.”
“Because it’s yours?” I questioned, backing towards the forgotten sword.
His mischievous grin gave me pause as I recalled a seven-year-old Cade giving that look to my mother as he showed her a nail he had made. It was bent and far too long for normal use, but my father had hung it up on the wall with a sense of pride I saw him give few other things.
“Well, that is rather endearing, but I was considering more the fact that you look like a regular woman, one who belongs here. Your hair is different, your clothes are new, and other than your well-worn shoes, you look little like the weary woman who collapsed onto her bed yesterday. You look like you but rested. I know for a fact you slept well within the warmth of my bed last night, Roseen. You fell asleep with your head upon my chest and my fingers playing in your hair.”
Feeling his blade against the toe of my shoe, I slid my foot under it and kicked the sword up into my hand in a manner that would make my combat instructors pleased. All priestesses were given some form of training in self-protection. I preferred the sword to a staff in honor of my father’s trade. If Cade thought sweet words would erase my fright, he did not know me well at all.
“I do not favor being scared, Blacksmith.” I pointed his own sword at his chest, the blade shimmering in the rapidly fading daylight. The tip nestled in the gap left between the front panels of the vest, and I could have split the laces open with little effort. “Where’s the other blade? I know there’s bound to be one more.”
With a look of mock-surprise, Cade reached down the sides of his legs and pulled a shortsword that wasn’t much more than a good hunting dagger from each boot. “You always did know my best tricks, Witch-woman.”
My whole body became a fluid form as I advanced. Clanging steel danced in our hands as our words sang with unmeant insults, each earning a hearty laugh. He was stronger; I was faster. We were a match unlike any other. His strengths were my weaknesses, as mine were his.
“Are we playing until one of us tires, or shall we call it here, Lady?” He lowered both wrists, though I knew by honed instincts that he could still best me if I let my guard drop.
With a step back, I saw the path beside me and took off at a sprint. “You’ll have to catch me to find out, Cade!” The blade fell from my fingers with a whisper of a thud as it landed in the sand of the beach we had neared, and I propelled myself further out to begin climbing a dune. My legs tangled in the length of his shirt and my mother’s chemise, each step becoming harder as I tried to go higher.
Soon, the sand and scrub brush became my sky and the clouds my ground as I lost my footing and fell backwards. Before I could hit the rockier sand at the bottom, those same arms from earlier caught me, one about my chest, the other sliding to my knees as quick as he could from his first grasp at my bottom. “This is not quite what I thought you meant in catching you, Roseen.”
The husky rasp to his voice brought about my own, as did the warmth of his chest against me. “What are you going to do with me now that you’ve caught me, Cade?”
The heat was tempered now, but I could see the embers in his eyes. So easy it would be, so easy if I were a different woman. Full lips parted, and an escaping breath carried with it the heat of a summer plain scorching to create a wildfire. “This,” he hissed. The embers caught the kindling in my soul, and I felt flames burning me alive as our heads neared one another, mine tipping back and up while his lowered. The warmth of Cade’s lips was just out of reach, then he kissed the tip of my nose and dropped me to the ground while I complained.
“I told you, Rose; hope is all a man needs.” By the whistle I could hear as he disappeared down the path to town, he had found his blasted hope.
Cade left me there in the sand, my hips aching from the drop to the ground, my pride hurting from his dismissal. If his parents still lived, I would be standing on their doorstep demanding they rein in his demeanor. He’s the one who attacked me while I slept. He’s the one who then stretched out over me. And he’s the blasted fool who almost kissed me.
I stomped all the way to the hut where Kira had tested me all those years ago. Cade was turning me into a pouting child, and I did not have time for . . . this. Even as I groused in my own head, my arms were flailing in my silent argument with myself. I am a priestess. A deep breath did nothing to calm my mind. I must be above earthly pleasures. The only image I had then was of Cade beneath me, our bodies indulging in such
earthly pleasures. Thoughts of when I held Fion like that were fading from my inner sight. The larger frame of the blacksmith had taken his place.
“I am sorry, Fion, wherever you may be.” The last time I had seen him, I thought it was a sign we were meant to be.
*
“How did you end up here?” The warm cloth was rough as Fion rubbed the contusion covering my forehead. His eyes were filled with as much relief as they were fear. “You should be an hour’s crow flight from here, Priestess.” His whisper frigid, words squeezed out as he tried to feign indifference to me. “Liand will kill you when you’ve finished with him.” With a stricken look, he added, “You’ll heal my Lord, won’t you, Roseen?”
Nodding made the room spin, and I laid back down into the nest of pillows I had been resting in while unconscious. “Where am I, Fion?”
His lithe form bent in half at the waist, one hand going over his heart. “Welcome to God’s City, the grand Lorilindo, my love. We are at the center of Liand’s enlightened lands, away from the barbaric customs of the coast.” The entire length of my body shivered at his words. “Calm yourself, Roseen. I know your vows make you bristle to hear such things, but you must see how wrong the old ways were. We are moving the world into one of peace.”
“By giving our people the choice of forsaking their faith, the faith of their families back as far as history remembers, or dying upon the swords of Liand’s soldiers. And why? Why must we die? It wasn’t like this before Aristeer fell. What has caused Liand’s hatred for my brethren?”
The sad shake of his dusty blond curls was accompanied by the pouting of unnaturally red lips. Turning my head, slowly, I saw a bowl of fresh berries on the tray. “You never could resist a berry patch.”
“Liand has realized that your teachers, your so-called prophets, are nothing more than morally-bankrupt instillers of corruption. He wishes to see no more families ripped apart by the deception caused by others of your spiritual kin.” Fion scuttled back several feet as a heavy wooden door creaked open. “Kaya, I thought you were with His Majesty this afternoon?”
A young woman—she could not have been more than my twenty-two—bristled as she looked between Fion and me. “My apologies, Fion. My brother said you were tending to a patient. I expected you to be in the infirmary, not private quarters.” Another glare from her set me on edge. My mind painted a ritual scarf over her hair, and exchanged her modest robe for one of a nicer cut. The binder.
Sensing my growing unease, Fion held out a hand to each of us. “Roseen, may I present Lady Kayade, sister of Lord Liand, High Lady of Lorilindo and a Minister of the Sun Lord. Kaya, may I present Sister Roseen of the priesthood of Bas, a daughter of Sheelin and a childhood friend of mine. Outside of one visit two years ago, we have not seen one another since she was initiated.”
Sneered words chilled the air. “Don’t get too friendly with the enemy, Fion. My brother will have her executed like the others.” Dark hair swung in an arc, and the lingering scent of her perfumed oil hung long after she left.
“She acts as my assistant medic. Having a patient here unsettled Kayade. She likes things to be as they always have been. You are mine, though, Roseen. I won’t let them hurt you, even if it means sneaking you out in the early hours while all are in prayer.” His lips sealed to mine then, reawakening the binding we had done.
“Handfast with me, Fion,” was my soft plea as he slid beneath the covers. “Make us permanent.”
“Leave the Priesthood, and we’ll have the ceremony by nightfall.”
*
Despite what turned into a screaming match, Fion and I had spent three days in his bed, only leaving to fetch food and exchange dirty linens. When his assistant came daily to see if Fion was willing to see other patients in the clinic, he had chased her off with sweet promises to help as soon as his “childhood friend was back on her feet.” The glares she shot me turned to smiles once ordered to bind my powers again. All the pain Kayade inflicted was tempered by memories of the bliss I accepted in Fion’s bed and the luxuries with which he pampered me. Due to his status in Lorilindo, he had a private bathing chamber, including a brass tub set over a fire so heated water was no luxury to him. The water let out onto the fields, irrigating the crops with the remnants of our frequent baths.
If I had not seen the tincture to stop conception upon his desk in the infirmary, I might have mourned our lack of child-making. There was so much I needed to do that his silent deception was a blessing despite my anger regarding his lack of forthcoming. No words were spoken; I had to honor his decision to do what was best for our situation. It was better to have no chance for pain than worry what Liand would do should he discover what Fion and I had done.
It was my own fault for having taught Fion the recipe. After our first night outside Aristeer, I’d kissed away his fears that I might “catch,” as he’d called it, then showed him the herbal tincture all priestesses carried for fear of forced interludes with the army. Now, with our bond ended, I wished that I had some part of him to cling to beyond the translucent ghost of his memory. Dead or married, he was lost to me.
I would be a whore to no man, despite what Liand had done once Fion could no longer declare I was his patient. My healing abilities were not all he demanded, and in exchange for releasing five of my sisters still in captivity, I gave myself willingly for the three moons I treated his tumors. Despite declaring my abilities heretical, Liand had no issues with allowing me to pray to Aya for a sharp blade to remove the exterior tumors, and Bas to heal what I could not remove physically. I slept in his bed, healing every ailment until his own faith-healers and medics found him in perfect health once again. It was due to his fondness for Fion that I was granted a chance to escape, but I knew should I be caught again, I would not be treated to such liberties.
The rueful thoughts that had accompanied me through the woods followed me into the home that had belonged to Kira and then Asha and to the back wall where all my hopes for the future rested. The latest tenant’s departure was so hasty that remnants of her supper still sat in the pot over the dead hearth, the contents burnt to a dry crisp. Her bed was destroyed; scraps of fabric and dried grasses covered open chests that once held clothes. My luck held, however, and the hidden door to the temple remained undisturbed. The clay covered walls were cool to my touch as I tried to remember where Kira had opened the door for me before taking a short cut to the sacred space.
Could I find the short cut?
Nay, I had to take the proper path to the temple. My nails caught upon two cracks in the plaster, one leading to the right crevice to spring the latch. The door whispered open, fabric on the other side sliding over the earthen floor.
Sunlight filtered ahead in the temple, giving a soft ending to the darkness awaiting. The tunnel seemed much shorter than my last trip. I stripped off my shoes and set them atop a small woven basket before pushing the door closed, leaving me in the womb-like space. With my hands on either wall, I soon had to drop to my knees and crawl as the earthen walkway returned me to my beginnings. Cade’s shirt was covered in mud by the time I reached the temple. The mosaic tiles humbled me in their singularly awe-inspiring way.
“Mother Bas.” I called to the Divine Mother, and the green eyes in the mosaic tile pulsed with light. “I am lost. I heal, but I feel no magic. Help Your child return to Your path.”
Reclaiming my past, my back stung as old reed dug into my skin. The pillow was no longer scented with herbs, and the incense was long gone, but the sanctity of the space remained. Opening to Her flooded me with cold warmth that was reminiscent of the ache received when placing winter-chilled hands too close to the fire.
“You are never lost, Daughter of Old.” The mists claimed me. “Your path has left the road paved by others, but you are not lost. Come to Me. Come Home. All is not lost; do not lose your hope.”
My mind swam, trying to form a response. Only one word came to me and escaped on a sigh. “How?”
“The same way The Firs
t did. Would I set you a task too hard, Child? Believe. If you believe, the magic will come.”
Chapter Nine
We offer and walk beneath the protection of the paw; this is truth. It is the claw, however, for which we are remembered.
The First Lessons: The Path Ahead
The storm cloud of my emotions followed me out of the temple and through the woods towards town. Birds fluttered out of my sight, afraid I might throw a rock to knock them from their perches. They were right to fear me; I feared my own response to Bas’ words. My lips twisted in crude mockery, and my voice rose several octaves as I muttered to myself. “If you believe, the magic will come.” My grumbles of the Goddess’ advice scared a raven sitting on an oak branch, and I yelled the phrase again for good measure. “If I believed I had a chance of doing it, I would not have asked for Her guidance.”
I wanted a sister to whine to, someone who would stroke my hair back from my face as I cried out my frustrations. You could do that with the blacksmith, my secret inner voice called. I no longer needed Aya’s presence to sell my heart to Cade. My thoughts had already betrayed me. Well, that part of me—the one that had decided I would accept Cade’s offer of marriage—could just forget it. Nothing was more important than getting to Sheelin, Cade and my damnable lust included.
I would eat those words not five turns of the road later.
Entering the city, I found no one on the roads. The orchard’s paw print sign from before could only be seen as the sun crossed letters. Madani was too quiet, as if it were waiting for something. My steps grew faster until at last I reached my forlorn district. The pounding beat of my heart stilled, and the muscle caught in my throat as I rounded the building and saw the forge’s ample space filled to the brim with soldiers. From wall to wall they crowded around Cade. Each wore the crimson sash of Liand’s army and was so close I could smell the stink of horses still on them.