by Jo Spurrier
But now, the trail was … gone. Just gone, with only a sheer wall in its place.
But there had to be some way through. He searched for anything that seemed familiar in this wild and overgrown corner of his mind, a landscape that seemed changed forever by the ritual Kell had tricked him into.
After a few moments, he found another sheer, blank wall, but this one felt … different. This wasn’t his work. Was Sierra walling him out? She’d done it before, to spare him from what Rasten and Kell did to her. It hadn’t always worked, but she’d tried her best.
Isidro reached for the barrier, only to freeze the moment he made contact. It wasn’t a wall, at all. It seemed, on first glance, to be so solid that a sledgehammer wouldn’t chip the stone. But on closer inspection, it was an illusion. Not a wall, just the appearance of one, spun out of light and power.
Not quite believing, and understanding even less, Isidro pushed himself through.
He found himself wearing someone else’s skin, in a body heavy with sleep, lying on a narrow platform with his back against a wall.
Something was wrong. Sierra would be sharing a tent with Cam, not sleeping on a hard wooden bench with a solid wall behind her. Still trying to make sense of where he’d found himself, Isidro turned the head, pillowed on a folded arm, and opened the eyes to reveal a small chamber lit by a guttering lamp on the bare stone floor.
There was a half-second of peace … and then the body he wore convulsed and Isidro found himself wrenched away.
Within a bare instant he knew whose body he’d found himself in. It was no woman’s form wrapped in blankets, and it wasn’t Sierra’s sharp, prickling fear that wrapped around him. This one was tinged with red and smelled like hot iron. Rasten.
It seemed that Rasten identified Isidro in the same moment. He froze, and a heartbeat later, released him, though Isidro could feel his heart beating hard. Rasten’s power was rising, a seething column of energy that wrapped around his spine.
Isidro? Rasten said. He was angry — no, furious, but struggling to control it, along with his panic at finding himself invaded. Isidro could sympathise. The few times Rasten had invaded him like this, he hadn’t taken it nearly so well. What in the hells are you doing here?
I … I’m not sure. I was trying to reach Sierra. Somehow I wound up here instead.
He felt Rasten go still. Wait, Rasten said, and pulled away. For a moment, he was gone, utterly, and Isidro found himself alone in Rasten’s body.
Then, Rasten returned, as swiftly as he’d left. She’s fine, he said. She’s with the prince. What do you mean, you couldn’t find her? And how in the hells did you get to me? How did you get past my shield?
Shield? There was no shield. There was a wall, but it was just an illusion. And as for Sirri, I … I think that’s my fault, but I don’t know how to undo it. I don’t understand what’s happening. All I know is that I’m thinking more clearly than I have since the day we reached the ruins, and there’s something out there. Something dangerous.
Rasten was studying him like some strange insect. Something threatening the camp?
I think so. But don’t ask me how I know.
He felt Rasten hold himself still, thinking. He half expected the other man to shove him out of his head and slam the shields behind him. Why would Rasten care what happened to these people?
The answer came to him in his next breath. Rasten was the one who’d freed them in the first place.
Alright, Rasten said. And you don’t know what?
An attack, maybe. Sierra sent word, warning the Akharians might be leading them away to leave us vulnerable. I thought maybe that’s where I got the idea from —
Not if you can’t reach her, Rasten said. Can you go see for yourself?
Isidro opened his eyes. The last light of sunset had faded and the rain was falling again. That’s what I was trying to do. I’m just … not sure this is a good idea. My mind’s still not working the way it should.
It isn’t? You should be mending by now. Hmm. He felt Rasten shift his weight. Will … will you let me in? Maybe if I take a look around …
Isidro scowled. He might have accepted that Rasten was not the same creature that had tormented him in Kell’s tent all those months ago, but that didn’t mean he was willing to let him inside his skull, inside his skin. The old revulsion at the thought was still there, but it seemed somehow … disconnected.
Forget about that, Isidro told himself, clenching his teeth. It’s not about you. Drawing a deep breath, he made his muscles relax and pulled away from Rasten. Come on, he said.
Rasten could have shoved his way through — he’d done it before, but he waited for the invitation. Inside, he kept his presence small, rather than taking over and crowding Isidro out as he had before — and as it must have felt when Isidro invaded his head moments ago.
Alright, Rasten said, turning Isidro’s head this way and that to take in the sounds of the camp, the soft voices of children at supper, the wail of a baby. You’re drawing power from somewhere.
I … I am?
Yes, it’s sharpening your wits. But it’s not coming from Sirri. Your connection with her … it’s all but gone. By all the Gods, what have you done? Now he could feel Rasten reaching out, exploring. Once his very presence would have filled him with a visceral disgust and fury, but for the moment, at least, he didn’t seem to care.
Rasten seemed to shake himself. Worry about that later. For now, focus on the matter at hand. This power’s drawing in from the west.
Ah, Isidro thought. I knew it. There’s something out there.
I’d say so.
Then I’d best see just what it is.
Isidro set out again, stretching out his stride. Perhaps it was a foolish idea … but he was feeling good, better than he had in months. Rouldin had sent scouts, true, but were any of them mages and sensitive like him? Isidro’s preternatural senses would take him right to the threat. If he turned back to tell Delphine of his plan, she’d never let him go. But she’d also wake soon, so he had to get out of the camp before she roused the alarm. Still, he wouldn’t need long. His feet would take him straight there.
Groggily, Delphine lifted her head. Why did a nap never leave her feeling rested, but every bit as weary as when she laid down?
She yawned hugely and heaved herself upright. Someone had set out the evening meal, a covered earthenware pot of stew, a chunk of pan-bread and a pot of hot water, all untouched. The sight of it made her frown. Sometimes Isidro was too absent-minded to eat unless directed, but she’d thought him stronger than that today. She looked around, but the tent was empty. She was alone.
With narrowed eyes, Delphine clambered to her feet and stumbled to the vestibule, where she found the housekeepers sitting by the stove, mending some gear. ‘Where’s Isidro?’ she said.
They both gave her blank looks.
‘He was here,’ she said. ‘When Rouldin came, before the meal was served. Now he’s gone.’
‘Madame, he wasn’t here when we brought the meal. I thought he’d gone to the training camp.’
Delphine gritted her teeth. He did go there sometimes, joining the new mages in their training when he grew restless in the confines of the tent. ‘You didn’t see him leave?’
‘No, my lady, I’m afraid not. Shall I go to the camp to check?’
There was a sinking feeling in her belly. ‘Yes, one of you go,’ she said. ‘The other, help me look around here. If we don’t find him swiftly, I’ll have to send for Rouldin again.’
Curled on her side, Sierra hunkered down into her sheepskin and pulled the blankets over her ear. Nearby Cam’s breath was slow and steady. Was he already asleep? Over the last spring and summer she’d learnt to snatch sleep whenever she could, but lately the knack had escaped her.
With a sigh, she rolled onto her back, staring up at the roof as her thoughts turned to Isidro.
He was getting better. His strength and wits were creeping back; perhaps not as swiftly as everyo
ne wished, but anything less than an instant healing would be too slow for Cam’s liking. For a while, she’d feared it would never happen, that Rasten had been mistaken. The man who’d woken after that desperate, bloody surgery on the sand was a shell of his former self … and a shell he’d remained, for weeks.
Sierra shuffled her feet against the fur. Even if he never forgives me, if he never wants me back … I don’t care, I can handle it, as long as he comes back to us.
It was her fault, after all. If she hadn’t fallen for him, for his brilliant mind, his rock-steady nature, his courage, then Kell would never have turned on him once she and Rasten destroyed the king’s army. Rasten had warned her that her interest in Isidro was bound to make him a target. In the end, Isidro had survived due to his own strength of will, not because of her. Issey, I’m sorry, she cast the thought into the night. I wish I knew what else I could have done.
Clenching her teeth, she refused to reach for the corner of her mind that used to lead to him. That passage was closed, had been for months.
Perhaps Delphine and her little one can make him happy, she thought. By the Bright Sun, I hope so. As much as it hurts to have him turn away, I can bear it so long as he finds peace somewhere. Delphi was better suited to him anyway, an educated woman with a mind to match his, able to talk for hours about matters Sierra barely understood.
What were they doing now? Was Delphine lying awake listening to a man’s slow, sleeping breath and worrying what the future held? Or was she worrying about enemies drawing near?
Preliminary reports had come while she and Cam were eating — all seemed quiet. If there was any sign of danger, the mages on night duty would bring the news no matter the hour. There was no point lying awake to fret over it. The only sensible option was to get some sleep while they could. Then again, Sierra thought, no one has ever accused me of having an excess of sense.
From the other side of the tent came a heavy sigh, and Cam stirred within his blankets. Sierra turned to find him looking towards her, eyes gleaming in the light of the dying fire.
‘Sirri?’ he murmured. ‘You still awake?’
‘Mm,’ she said, keeping her voice soft. ‘I can’t sleep.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I thought warriors were supposed to be able to sleep anywhere?’
He sat up and shrugged, scrubbing a hand through his hair. ‘I suppose I’m not that much of a soldier. Truly, I’m not. We were skirmishers more than anything else. I … I keep feeling I’ve got no cursed business at the head of this army.’
Sierra sat up, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders, and crossed the tent to sit at his side. ‘It’s not a soldier they need, Cam, it’s a leader, and that they have. You’ve brought them this far. You’ll take them home, as well. You’ll take us all home.’
He shook his head. ‘No. Not all. Most of us, with luck and the gods on our side, but it’ll never be all.’ He twisted around to face her. ‘I don’t suppose you can reach Isidro?’
She shook her head.
‘Is he still blocking you out?’
She nodded in silence.
‘He’ll come back to us,’ Cam muttered. ‘He has to.’
Sierra bit her lip. ‘But what … what if he doesn’t?’ Her voice was very soft, little more than a whisper. This was something she’d done her best not to think about, a thought they usually avoided voicing. A possibility that hurt too much to contemplate.
Cam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘He just needs time. He’s been through a lot, not just with Kell. It’s nearly a year since he was captured, and he never had a chance to recover. It’s been one storm after another, with all of us scrambling to keep our heads above water. He’ll come good. We just need to be patient.’
Patience would be easier, Sierra thought, if she had some idea of what would await her at the end of it. But of course, it didn’t work that way. She wanted him back, she wanted what she had cast aside when she’d left him unconscious in the Spire and staked her future on Rasten. Bright Sun forgive me, I did what I had to do.
Cam’s arm tightened around her. ‘Look, Sirri … I know you’re worried. I don’t know what’s going to happen … but you’ll always have a place with us, you know that, right?’
Something about his words struck her as funny, and before she could stop it, a laugh bubbled up in her throat. ‘Oh, Cam … you know, I really don’t think you could make it without me.’
He flashed her a grin at that. It was nice to feel the weight of a man’s arm around her again, and smell the earthy scent of his skin. Sierra caught her thoughts before they went too far, and forced herself to focus on his face and his words.
‘Well, that’s the Gods’ own truth. But I mean it, Sirri. I’m not talking about survival, about fighting and battles. I’m sick of running, of scrabbling to survive. When we get back to Ricalan I want a home, a place where we can settle in and catch our breath. Where we can build something that will last more than a few weeks or a season. I mean, there’s Delphine and her little one to consider, and when I find Mira again I’m going to ask her to marry me. And, who knows, it might take Isidro another year or two to heal. We need a place where we can be together. A place where we can be a family. I want you there, Sirri. I can’t imagine it without you.’
She shivered under the weight of his arm. Relaxing at last, she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling hard, lean muscle against her cheek. There was a security, a comfort in a man’s arms, a sense of safety she’d gone without for a long time now. Home. Family. How long had it been since those words had brought anything but a sense of loss and grief?
‘You know,’ Cam said, ‘I always thought it was for the best that Issey and I would never marry. We never did like the same women, and the way he and Mira used to get into it … but everything’s different now. What we’ve been through has made them see each other in a new light. And … well, I …’
He broke off and Sierra turned to look at him. ‘What? Have you gained a fondness for Delphine as you came west?’
He choked a little on that. ‘What? Well … I have, of course, but not that way. Delphine’s a fine woman, and I count her my kin, no matter what happens with the babe she carries. No, Fires Below, Sirri, I’m talking about you. I want you to be part of our family. Mira does to, she hinted at it, a time or two.’
‘She … she did?’ Sierra remembered the bitterness and fury she’d felt when they first met. Mira had tried to have her killed in obedience with the laws that condemned sorcerers to death. It was only once Mira saw for herself that Sierra was not a monster like Kell that she set her prejudice aside and built something new in its place.
‘Yes,’ Cam said, ‘back in the Spire.’
Back in the Spire. Before she’d left. Back then, Mira had talked of an alliance with the Akharians, to enlist their help to train Sierra and destroy Kell. The whole world had seemed against them then, and Sierra knew she wasn’t the only one dreaming of an unobtainable future. Would Mira feel the same way after all the bridges Sierra had burned behind her? Of course she would, Sierra realised with an inward sigh. Mira knows the games of politics and war. I’m too valuable to cast aside. She’ll see the sense in keeping me close, and the less she trusts me the closer she’ll want me.
She could never turn him down. To be kin to a man like Cam was more than she deserved, more than she’d dreamed of. He’d walk through fire for those he loved, and he’d always have her back, no matter what. But what would Isidro do, when he did finally come back to his senses to find her in his brother’s arms? If Cam married her, then she’d be Isidro’s wife as well under the northern laws. What if he didn’t want her back? Would he cast her off, demand to be excised from the contract? No, like Mira, he was too sensible, and he knew her worth. Instead he’d treat her with exquisite courtesy, and keep her always at arm’s length. That would be worse, far worse, than having him tell her what had once existed between them would remain in the past.
Sierra closed her ey
es. But perhaps that’s what I deserve. Perhaps that will be my punishment for leaving those who struggled and fought for me in the lurch.
‘Sirri?’ Cam’s voice was soft, and his breath warm against her skin. Sierra opened her eyes to find him gazing at her, his face inches from her own.
She kissed his shoulder, through the cloth of his shirt. ‘There’s nothing I want more than to be your kin,’ she said in a whisper.
His lips looked soft and warm. Sierra curled a hand around the back of his neck, and kissed him.
I keep doing this, she said to herself through the sudden pounding of her heart. Whenever a man comes within reach, I seize him like a sucker-vine. She’d done it to Isidro only days after they’d met. Within moments of surrendering to Rasten in the caves beneath the Spire, she’d goaded him into bearing her down to the rough stone there and then. Still, she thought, it wasn’t all bad. Those battles were won. We’re all still here. Perhaps I can’t change my nature any more than I can change the colour of my eyes.
Cam kissed her back, fierce and hungry, arms tight around her. It reminded her of Rasten, except that Cam didn’t dig his hands into her back. Rasten always sought to master her, showing her with every touch just what he was and what he could do. It wasn’t intentional — he did it for his own sake, to remind himself that he was the aggressor and not the victim. But there was none of that in Cam’s touch as he ran his hands across her shoulders and down to the small of her back. He pulled her to him, but she clutched him closer, pressing her breasts against his chest as she felt him hard against her while he kissed her long and slow and raised one hand to cup her cheek, his calloused fingers gentle against her skin. There was a scar along his palm, pale and long-healed, and for a moment she wondered what he thought of the marks around her wrists.
Cam broke away, breathing hard, and rested his hands on her shoulders, the weight of them a comfort.
‘Are you sure this is alright?’ Sierra whispered, her breath short in her throat. This was not the way these things were customarily handled. Cam and Mira might not be formally joined, but she thought of them that way all the same. She knew he was devoted to her. And Isidro … she was lost when it came to him. Utterly lost.