by R. K. Thorne
She was staring. Slowly, he started to withdraw his hand. Did he think it unwanted?
She recaptured it with her other hand instead and brought his hand back into both of hers. It all seemed insanely forward, but what did she have to lose? And the darkness seemed to cloak her, hide her blushing cheeks, her tentative eyes.
He didn’t object. In fact, he shifted closer again. The cold of a slight wind whispered around them, moaning as it hit the tiny crevices and holes in the caverns.
“I’m sorry I judged you,” he said softly.
“No, no, don’t be,” she muttered. “I’m just being stubborn.”
“How so?”
“I just… I’ve never known anyone who would put others ahead of themselves so readily, so frequently, with no ulterior motive.”
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. It’s amazing you survived your childhood at all.”
“At first, I didn’t trust it. But I’ve come to see that, no, you actually aren’t looking to gain anything. You’re actually looking for the right thing to do.”
“Well, I do it to save my self-respect. So I can look myself in the eye, so to speak.”
“It’s just—when you act like that, it makes me defensive.”
“Defensive?”
“Yes. It makes me want to…” Stop you so you don’t get yourself killed. Be like you. Sacrifice like you—and for you. Be a better person, so that you… So that he would what? None of the words would come out, and her thoughts froze. “It makes me want to tell you to stop being so damn virtuous,” she blurted. “You’re supposed to be evil, mage.”
He chuckled. “That’s not what you were going to say first, was it?”
She turned to face his crooked smile. “No, it wasn’t.” Just because she couldn’t get the truth to come out didn’t mean she wanted to lie. “You are supposed to be evil, though.”
“Do you still really think that?”
She shook her head. “No. I think your goodness is going to get you killed.”
“Good. Between your father and your governess, I would have a lot to do to prove the true corruption of my soul. They’ve got a real head start on me. And I haven’t got any drugs or the ability to hire governesses or arrange marriages, so I believe I’m at a distinct disadvantage.”
She realized abruptly she was staring into his eyes, his face so close she could feel his breath. She was just staring, saying nothing. She should respond. Something. Anything.
“Yes,” was all she managed.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about such things.”
“No, it’s fine. That wasn’t it. Don’t worry about it.”
“What was this ‘it,’ then?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled crookedly again, but he seemed willing to let it drop. “Thank you for staying with me back there.”
She shook her head again. “It was nothing.”
“You were right to be wary. I was too harsh.”
“No, no. It might have worked if they weren’t such bloodthirsty bastards. That wasn’t your fault.” She poked him in the shoulder to drive the point home.
“Or they might have caught us and killed us too.”
She lowered her gaze, but a bit of courage had taken root, a bit of honesty for just a moment. “No, I was glad to stay. You were right. I wish I were the kind of person who tried to choose his life over mine. I’m not that person yet, but… you make me want to be.”
He frowned, as if surprised by her words. Had she truly been so opaque? She looked up at him through her eyelashes. His eyes were searching her face intently. She darted her gaze back down. It was too much. She couldn’t take the earnestness of his expression even in the darkness, those pale eyebrows, those soft blues. She tore herself away, turning so only her hair faced him, though she did not release his hand in hers.
Deep breath. Maybe another. Maybe that would help her calm down.
“Niat?” he said softly. A thrill ran through her at the sound of her name on his tongue. A finger from his other hand touched the back of hers, tracing slowly up her arm.
“Yes?” she said, without turning back. The soft touch passed her elbow, sending shivers cascading through her, sliding up to her shoulder, along her collarbone, up her neck.
“Can I kiss you again?” he whispered. “In less of a rush this time?”
She whipped around to face him. He had been thinking the same sorts of things she had been? He wanted to— He didn’t think her selfish and boring and too thin and plain? She could only stare in shock for a moment, then another.
“A kiss without poison would be preferred, but I might settle for either at this point,” he said, his voice rough. At this point? By Nefrana. He was much closer now, his forehead nearly touching hers. The fingertip against her neck turned into a warm hand that curved around and cradled her, his fingers brushing into her hair.
“I’m all out,” she said softly, a little too stunned to make sense.
“Of kisses or poison?”
“Poison.”
“Oh, how convenient for me.”
She laughed softly. He slid even closer to her, and his chest brushed her shoulder. His fingers were strong, entwined in her own, and she could feel herself gripping back fiercely. Still, he waited. What was the question again, exactly? Oh, yes.
“You want to kiss me, after I berated you for trying to save a man’s life?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “You also, wisely, tried to convince me not to risk my life unnecessarily for someone we couldn’t even be sure was an ally.”
We. The word seemed significant—why? “I was concerned about you,” she blurted. “It wasn’t just about me. I’m not a totally selfish person. That’s why I got angry that you wouldn’t listen. And I couldn’t explain all that, and—”
“So you… wouldn’t be against a kiss then?” he said, laughing lightly.
“Um, no. I mean—”
Even as she spoke, he leaned forward, and she shut her eyes and shut off her words and leaned in herself. The soft, warm pressure of lips met hers. The hand curled around her neck tightened, an exquisite pressure, sending a shiver through her. The sweet protectiveness of the gesture was thrilling, and she opened her mouth, kissing him harder. His tongue met hers, slowly in a caress at first, then more eagerly, and she responded in kind. Warmth flooded her. By the gods. By Nefrana.
At that thought, something in her recoiled and drew back in fear. What was she thinking? Could this be some sort of mage trick? How could she— But he was—
Oh, shut up. Have you learned nothing? Thel was the first person she’d ever met that seemed worth any trust, and… he seemed worth quite a lot. What did it mean that he was a mage? Did it mean anything at all? It seemed at best an arbitrary label, meaningless. At worst, it was yet another way people had manipulated her for too long, without her realizing it.
What if she had never realized it?
His hand leaving hers cut her thoughts short. His fingers brushed over her hair gently, running down her neck, tickling the skin of her shoulder, of her arm. His other hand drifted down now and curled around the small of her back, encircling her.
A flash of a vision stole her attention for a moment, causing her to gasp for breath, her eyes jumping open. But this time before her there wasn’t a cave, but instead a snow-covered mountain peak. Thel was in much the same position—did he look a little different? A little older? A pale-gray stone bridge stretched out behind her, and before them a gray fortress nestled into the mountainside. Snowflakes fell, dancing around them, and—
Back in the cave, staring into concerned eyes.
“What just happened?” he breathed.
“A vision,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush. She couldn’t even kiss someone without proving she was a freak. He’d push her away, if not now, eventually.
“What did you see?” He ran a gentle hand over her cheek.
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen. Did she real
ly want to tell him?
“Was it more battle?”
She shook her head. “I saw you,” she whispered, forcing the words out. “And me. And a lot of snow. A mountainside, with a gray sort of fortress in the background, I think? Heavy wood doors to the gatehouse.”
“Estun, maybe?” he muttered. “Was there a bear on the doors?”
She pictured it carefully. “Yes.”
“That’s… where I grew up.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
He nodded.
She gazed at him, trying to comprehend. He seemed unsurprised by this casual prediction of hers. Of the idea of visions. And in particular visions of the two of them together, in the future. Well, perhaps she hadn’t mentioned that the activity seemed to have been the same…
“Will you come to Estun with me then?” he said, his voice surprisingly eager. “There’s a lot—well, I think you’d like it there.”
She smiled. “Well, apparently I have already answered yes, but yes, I would love to see a fortress these fools couldn’t get at me in. And I’d also love to not be hunted by men in the woods or my family’s minions, that would be very nice.”
He gazed at her, his eyes warm. “You will like it, I promise. Also, I’m fairly sure those men are quite far away and not going to bother us tonight. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. For tonight, we have this cave all to ourselves.”
Her eyebrows rose, and the warm, humid air pressed in around her more heavily now, her body coming alive to its sensations. He leaned closer again, and she threw herself into his kiss. His hand slid between her arm and her body, running along her hip, up to her waist, pulling her suddenly closer, and she caught her breath.
“Perhaps there are some… useful skills we could learn while we wait,” she said against his lips. He nestled his head against her neck now, brushing his lips against her hair, her skin, her earlobe.
“You know how to excite a man, all this talk of learning,” he whispered into her ear, tickling. Shivers shot through her. “I find you a very challenging subject to study, but a rewarding one.”
She smothered a giggle. “That’s not what you said when we first met. Or two days ago.”
“We live, we learn.” He kissed her hard again.
Perhaps her luck had taken a positive turn after all these years. Perhaps not, as she was falling for a mage, one that would certainly complicate her past if not her future. But such considerations seemed petty, bureaucratic, in light of the fire flowing through her veins. How could any of that matter, in the face of a man such as this, his profile in the moonlight forever burned into her memory, a man who made her feel brave? And alive.
“Yes,” she said into the darkness. “Indeed we do.”
Aven stared into the flames. They’d made a late camp—such as it was, without bedrolls or tents—for the night near the same spot down the road where the regiment had camped, although now of course they didn’t need nearly as much space. He’d eased a snowstorm away from them and farther west before it fell, which was a boon. But not much of one.
Dyon and Siliana had fallen asleep quickly, in spite of it all. Fighting and riding and stress would do that to you, leave you sore and tired and a heap of bones that could even sleep on your arm and a pile of pine needles. The small remaining force also didn’t gripe about their lack of—well, everything. Everyone was just happy to be alive.
More than a few clapped his shoulder or gave him quiet nods of thanks, and he knew he’d won loyalty for life from this few. He’d never have chosen to pay the cost of all the others, but he was glad to have saved them. Not even half an hour after they’d made camp, nearly everyone was asleep. A few stared quietly at the stars. Like he did.
Aven didn’t find sleep so easily. In a few minutes, he’d lie down and try sleeping again. They weren’t going to make an early start; they were all too exhausted. But the last thing he needed was falling off his horse because he hadn’t had enough sleep.
This was a situation he’d been in more than a few times as of late, camping with not enough equipment in a lonely wood. Except those other times hadn’t been lonely. There was one person whose presence was glaringly absent.
He sat cross-legged at the campfire and closed his eyes, calling back to mind the day she’d returned with his father. The way he’d fallen asleep at her side rather than leave her. He could feel her hands digging into his shoulders even now, calming him, running through his hair, easing his tension, the heat of this fire just like that one.
She might turn away from him when he explained what had happened, the calming spell and all. He might be able to persuade her how important the star magic was and fix things. Either way, he would find out what fate held in store for him soon. Tomorrow. It wasn’t that long.
He took the map out of his jerkin and unfolded it, eying the keen and beautiful letters that Tharomar had penned. A gorgeous piece of writing and art in and of itself, now that he could see its entirety, without need of the stars.
He knew much of it now. He knew all the key stars and their associated spells and the pairings. If he shut his eyes, he could still see the map floating in his head. And perhaps if there was something he’d missed, maybe he didn’t really need to know it.
He hadn’t been able to promise her that he wouldn’t use the magic. He most certainly was going to, if it kept them all alive and free men. But there was one promise he could keep.
Carefully, he refolded the map, eying it one final moment. And then, almost casually, he tossed the sheet gently among the flames, watching as its swirl of smoke twisted up and into the sky and vanished among the stars.
The sun had barely risen when knocking on the door got Tharomar out of bed. He wasn’t sleeping, as usual, just staring at Jaena while she slept. He answered quickly, glad they’d successfully fended off Telidar’s attempts at getting them a servant. Uneasiness nagged at his mind about the steward but was forgotten when the door revealed Prince Dom’s worry-creased brow.
“We got a message, by bird,” he said, his voice rough. “From Aven.” The youngest Akarian prince had a full beard, broad, stocky shoulders like the king, and dark eyes that smoldered with worry.
“Did your mother send word to him about… ?” Ro trailed off. He wasn’t sure if they were telling anyone outside of the guards what exactly had happened yet. He glanced at Alec nearby, who gave him a slight nod. The captain had assigned a rotation of guards to their rooms; Ro knew nearly all of their names by now. Only one on duty at a time, not too conspicuous, but it did relieve Tharomar slightly to know he wasn’t the only one who suspected every one of them was in danger. Even if he wasn’t admitting it to anyone just yet. No reason to cause panic.
“No, she didn’t send any word,” the prince said. “And she may not, because he’s headed back here.”
“Headed back?” said Jaena from the bed, alarmed.
Dom glanced behind Ro but had the foresight not to come in. Tharomar’s body physically blocking the doorway might have helped. “Yes. Aven’s news is grim. The entire regiment was destroyed, or nearly so. Aven was able to rescue Dyon and Siliana and a handful of others. So they’re on their way back.”
Ro swore under his breath. Jaena was scrambling out of bed.
“Did you hear from Beneral?” Ro asked.
“He agreed to our meeting. He should be here in an hour or so. We can talk then. Here’s the staff Jaena asked for.”
Ro nodded, taking the plain wood pole a little taller than him. “See you then.” Dom turned away, and Ro shut the door behind him. He leaned the staff carefully by the door.
“The entire regiment,” Jaena whispered.
“Would that be difficult? What does that tell us?”
“It doesn’t tell us anything that I’m sure of.” She rubbed her forehead. How many times had she done that in the last day or two?
“We better get ready. Get something to eat.”
She nodded.
Jaena shifted her weight from foot
to foot, clutching the smooth, reddish wood of her new staff. Holding a staff felt good. Official. Like she was actually somebody’s lieutenant and qualified to tell everybody what to do. She wasn’t, not exactly, except through the hearsay of some random Akarian mages in Panar’s streets. Close enough. She was going to tell them all what to do anyway.
Because nobody else was. And it needed to be done.
Telidar announced Lord Beneral, Assemblyman of Panar, and in he swept. He wisely came alone; he must have sensed mages were up to magical business. He wore his typical white robes in honor of his city and carried his own ebony staff, and he was one of the few men she’d met with skin darker than hers.
His eyes smoldered like angry coals as his gaze slid across the group, taking them in. Beside Dom and Elise, Jaena stood at the head of the long, silver-inlaid table in the meeting room and secondary library. Ro leaned against the table just around its corner at her side, and Derk was beyond him, glaring down at the maps Jaena’d brought and spread across the table. One was of Panar and its surroundings, and the other, eastern Akaria. Wunik stood beyond him, talking quietly to Devol of all people, who’d somehow managed to weasel his way into this meeting even though he wasn’t a mage. The other side held Miara’s sister and father, Luha and Pytor, and a Takaran named Teron who’d arrived with them all from Estun, along with his father Jerrin. The new mages Wessa and Sestin had been talking brightly and laughing at the far end of the table, although they quieted as Beneral entered.
The lord of the White City clenched his jaw as his gaze returned to the table’s head. To her. Probably processing that this was a meeting of mages. He didn’t want to be here, did he?
“Thank you for coming,” said Dom. “We have some… unfortunate news to share.” Checking the doors were firmly shut behind Beneral, Dom took a deep breath before he continued. “Miara is missing.”
The lord’s eyebrows shot up, some of his anger fading. That he hadn’t been expecting. “What happened?” he said, voice rough.