I hesitated responding. Jillyan’s reveal of such private thoughts was unexpected. More so was her description of Draken. She had known him in a way I couldn’t fathom. Still, I empathized with her loss. “You were right to think a spell could temper him. There are ways. But he wouldn’t have been the boy you remember. He would have been something else. Something contrived and forced.”
“He is already something else.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Your concern is unnecessary, Shinree. Knowledge replaced my childish whimsy some time ago. I’m well aware the only cure now for Draken is death.” Jillyan went back to inspecting the boxes and the conversation was done. She got up and began to browse through more of the vast collection of ancient works.
I gave her another minute before I spoke. “You said making doors wasn’t dangerous for an erudite. Why is that?”
“The mind of an erudite is considerably stronger and more complex.” She paused to open another box. “It has the capability to withstand the onslaught of multiple lines of spells, to classify and assign portions to specific duties. You endure the same mental assault as a door-maker but notice it happening far less, if at all. Your bond with Jarryd Kane is another example. How you absorb his experiences and memories is a more natural process than for a Shinree with only one line of magic. All your abilities surpass theirs. You should be proud of what you are. But you’re not,” she guessed.
Frowning, I transferred her attention off me. “What about those trained by an erudite? Sienn taught Jem how to open doors. It’s likely he isn’t the only one.”
“That is unfortunate. If her students are making doors, then they’re susceptible to the same deterioration as one born to make them. Sienn shouldn’t have been teaching what she didn’t understand.”
“I doubt she had any idea. Sienn was working off the scrolls Jem gave her.”
“Scrolls he stole from me,” Jillyan put in crossly. “After Jem was weaned of the Kayn’l and the plan of bonding with Draken was agreed to, several boxes containing information on the Erudite went missing. So did an empty journal labeled as belonging to Emperor Tam Reth.”
“It wasn’t empty. It was spelled.”
“I knew it,” she hissed. “Considering Emperor Tam’s work with the Crown of Stones, it stood to reason his writings on the subject would be protected. Invaluable, too, or why else would Jem have taken it.”
“I thought the same thing.”
Excitement quickened her voice. “Have you seen the book? Have you read it?”
“Not yet.” I thought back to the night when Sienn brought me Tam’s journal. We quarreled over Jem. Then Draken arrived and Jarryd nearly died from being stabbed with my Nor-taali blade. “I never got the chance. But I’d damn sure like to.”
Jillyan looked disappointed. She turned back to the crates and lost the emotion as she pulled out another book. “This outlines the practices of an erudite boy. It’s rudimentary information at best, and his crafting of the runes leaves much to be desired, but there are some interesting notes from his teacher.”
“Thank you.” I reached for the book. Instead of giving it to me she took the one in my hands and placed them both on the ground. “I was going to read those,” I said.
“Later.” Standing, Jillyan looked me up and down. “There are many treasures here worthy of our attention, are there not?” Her dark eyes were smoldering.
“Are you here to do research…or me? Or are we one in the same?”
“You interest me. Do the details matter?”
They did, until she nuzzled against me. Reaching up, Jillyan slid the tie from her hair. The waves fell around us. I breathed in the scent of rosewater that clung to the silken strands and the sounds of life outside the tent went dim.
“I’m not one of your toys,” I reminded her.
“I know exactly what you are. And yet, I’m still here.”
Amused, I put a hand on the small of her back. Pulling her closer, my goal was the bow, but she beat me to it. Reaching back, Jillyan tugged, and the ribbon came undone. Shimmying until the material slid open, she shot me a glance. “Must I do everything myself?”
Shifting around behind her, I swept Jillyan’s hair aside. Dragging the ribbon from the eyeholes, I pushed the two halves of her shirt apart and slid the leather forward; off her shoulders, down her arms, and onto the floor. Going in reverse, caressing her—hands, wrists, forearms, shoulders—with the ribbon still in my hand, I trailed the silk over her skin. I wound it around her throat, leaving the ends to hang down between her breasts. I played with them a moment, cupping the heavy weight in my hands, making her nipples rigid. Moving my attention down over her stomach, I was in no hurry to remove Jillyan’s breeches. They were so tight, as I slid my hand down between her legs, I could feel the folds of her through the material.
Leaning back, delighting in my rhythmic stroking, Jillyan swayed against the front of me. I squeezed what was in my hands and she sucked in a quick breath. I liked that I could catch her off guard. I did so again as I spun her to face me, grabbed both ends of the ribbon draped around her neck, yanked her close and kissed her.
My mouth moved on hers like I was starving. Her hands clutched at me, grasping and defiling. Pure unapologetic passion oozed from the woman, and I couldn’t get enough. It had been a painfully long time since anything had been so clear-cut and straightforward. There was no pretense. No demands. The moment was natural and uncomplicated, and it tapped a deeply buried vein of guilt-free lust within me.
The simple, effortless beauty of two people, mutually and willingly bestowing pleasure on each other was a sensation I was too long removed from.
Seizing the front of Jillyan’s breeches, I yanked. The seams ripped and I turned her sideways a bit in my arms; wanting a good angle as I slithered my hand down inside the gap. Groaning as my fingers met—then slid into— velvety wetness, I explored the way she liked it; working her outside with my thumb and her inside with a slow, deep rhythm. I could smell her excitement.
Withdrawing my hand, kissing away her groan of frustration, I steered Jillyan across the room. Her back made contact with the center pole of the tent and she laughed. “Careful, Shinree. People might notice if you bring down the roof.”
“What people?” I muttered.
She was still laughing as I grabbed her arms. Stretching them high above her head, I gripped both her wrists in my left hand. With my right, I undid the silk ribbon from her neck and tied her hands to the pole. The position pushed Jillyan’s breasts together nicely. I bent down and ran my tongue between them. I bent lower and pulled her boots off, and her breath sped up considerably; more so, as I stripped off her breeches. Leaving her naked and bound, I ran my hands over the bends and planes of her body. I brushed my fingers across her soft skin, then my tongue; making her tremble. Her ragged gasps hit my face and the throbbing ache in my cock became excruciating.
Unlacing my breeches, I gripped Jillyan’s ass in my hands and lifted her up. Her legs came around my waist. She was open and wet. I slipped effortlessly in. Breath rough, desire heavy in her eyes, Jillyan’s winded struggles to match my thrusts had her sweat-laden body laid out before me like a feast. She was clearly enjoying the angle. But the pole was shaking and the roof of the tent was dancing to our rhythm. I wasn’t sure it could take much more.
Neither could I.
Sparing a hand to untie the ribbon, I released her. Jillyan’s arms came around my body and she rose and fell unfettered now; her damp, sweltering cage sliding rapidly over me. My restraint gone, I carried Jillyan over to the stacked crates. I sat her down on top. I took one second to notice how beautiful she was, with the hair in her face and her plump lips red from my kisses. Then I opened her thighs wider, pushed in deeper, and let go.
As I filled her, she whispered in my ear, “And to think you almost kicked me out.”
Gasping, I laughed. “Like you would have gone?” I lifted my head and kissed the grin from her lips.
Tasting her, immersed in the workings of her agile tongue, it took me a moment to realize someone had entered the tent. It took even longer to care.
Finally, my mouth shifted off Jillyan’s with a growl. “Goddamn it Krillos. I swear I’m putting a fucking bell around your neck.” I turned to shoot him a glare.
It wasn’t him.
Standing frozen in shock, I knew I should do something. Take my hands off Jillyan’s breasts, pull my breeches up—try to breathe normal. The ragged sounds coming out of me were suddenly so loud, and so wrong. But it was her, and I was thrown, and all I could summon was a helpless dry-mouthed, rasping, “Sienn…”
Poised in the doorway, half in, half out, face wooden and eyes damp, Sienn dropped the flap and left.
Yanking up my breeches, as I tied the laces, I backed up from Jillyan. “I should…”
“Go,” she said, and I was out the door.
TWENTY THREE
I didn’t see her at first. The sun glare was blinding. There was a gathering crowd. I walked through it, noticing the commotion was centered on a couple of Arullans who had just come in from a hunt. One of them was dragging a dead, yellow gator by the tail. Covered in bog and gutted, the hefty lizard, known for its sallow skin and poisonous bite, was giving off a rancid smell that made me hope there was another choice for dinner.
As the onlookers dispersed I spotted Sienn walking between two tents. I hollered for her to wait. She didn’t. I jogged closer. She moved faster. Running up, I grabbed her arm, and Sienn wrenched away from me so fast the dust flew.
“Don’t touch me,” she gasped.
“Okay.” I put my hands up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say...”
“It’s my fault,” she blurted. “I shouldn’t have come in uninvited.”
“Jillyan doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Sienn grimaced like I wasn’t helping. “Use whoever you wish, Ian.”
“That’s not what—” I cut myself off. “It isn’t about that. She’s smart. There are things I can learn from her.”
“Learn from her? Have I not offered to teach you?” Sienn choked back her wounded tone. “Never mind. As long as you learn it doesn’t matter who it’s from.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, Sienn. You’re not fine.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “And I don’t have the slightest idea how to make you that way.”
“Then stop trying. I’m not your responsibility. I’m not anything to you. I never was.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You weren’t with me at the prison voluntarily. Before that, we shared a bed one night. And I wasn’t even me. I was wearing the likeness of a Kaelish winegirl sent by Jem to seduce you. Even after, after you knew who I was, we weren’t together. You were always quick to point that out.”
“I cared about you Sienn. I still do. But I don’t know how to be around you now. I barely know how to look at you or what to say.”
“Don’t look at me then, Ian. Don’t speak. Its only pity and guilt that prompts this sense of obligation you feel. It isn’t necessary. And I don’t want it.”
“It’s not obligation.”
“Than what is it?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Yet my silence was only making her turn away. “I’m going after Jarryd,” I said.
She stopped. Her white eyes drifted, as if she needed a moment to refocus. “You feel his absence more since your body is clean of Kayn’l.”
“I can put it out of my mind. But if I think on it for even an instant, it feels like there’s a hole.” I put a hand to the center of my bare chest. “Right here.”
“It’s understandable. No one can live without half of themselves for long. But breaking into Darkhorne without magic will be difficult.”
“I won’t leave him there. I’ll cast if it comes down to it, hornblende or not. You just might not recognize me when I get back.”
Sympathy softened the angles of her face. “That’s why I came to see you. Liel told me about Kael.” Sienn’s gaze glided over the strange markings on my face. It wandered down over the scars on my shoulder and arm. She lifted an unconscious hand to touch them. Then, realizing what she was about to do, dropped it. “I wish I knew why this was happening.”
“Me too.” I tried to think of more to say. I didn’t want her to go. “When I get back I need to work an oracle spell. Do you have any advice?”
“Is it important?”
“It might help me repair the crown. According to Malaq that’s important.”
“You don’t agree?”
“I owe Malaq. I admire his resolve. But broken, the crown can’t hurt anyone. And to be blunt, I’m not sure I need it. I have power. I brought Kael to its knees.”
“Yes. And we both know what that did to you.”
She wasn’t talking about my scars. “I won’t lie to you, Sienn. Admitting what I am hasn’t been easy. But I’m not like you. I’m not just an erudite. I’m a Reth. My name portends death. I can’t ignore that anymore. I can’t hide from my heritage or deny the consequences that come with it. Besides, I seem to have a knack for large scale destruction.” I grinned; harder when she gave in to a slight smile. “There’s something else. There was a book, a journal written by my ancestor. You stole it from Jem. Do you remember?” She nodded. “Do you have any idea where it is now?”
“The last time I saw Tam’s journal was over two years ago at the battle of Kabri.”
“The night my father was supposed to die.” I regretted my bluntness as the color fled her skin. I knew how much Jem had manipulated her back then. But somewhere inside, I guess I was still pissed she chose him.
“I made sure you were alive,” she said then, nodding; to herself, like she’d been waiting for this. “Before I even touched Jem, I made sure you were alive. No matter my anger, no matter that foolish vow I forced you to make back in Kael, I would never have hurt you, Ian. But I hadn’t yet realized what your father had become. I was still holding out hope he was the same man that freed me. That he could free us all and bring the Shinree back into a world that has spurned our kind for too long.” Sienn paused to wipe her eyes. “After healing Jem I was weak. I’d been casting for hours. An arrow had struck my arm on the battlefield and there’d been no time to mend it. I made a door off the island and barely had the strength to pull Jem through. I took him back to the woods where we first met. I thought I could talk to him. I thought I could make him see what he was doing was wrong.” Sienn shook her head. Strands of white fell over the despair on her face. “I was the one who was wrong.”
I was aching to put my arms around her. But Sienn had made it clear she didn’t want that. So I brought us both back on track. “The book. Where is it?”
“Jem asked me the same question in prison. I told him I threw Tam’s journal into the sea off Kabri’s highest cliff. In truth..?” she shrugged. “It was in my satchel. I must have dropped it somewhere on the island. I’m sorry, Ian.” Her apology was too earnest to be about the book. “You won’t be casting much in Darkhorne. When you return, come see me. I’ll instruct you in whatever you need. It’s what I do here.”
Sienn moved off. I let her this time. I didn’t know how to make small talk with her. I had even less of an idea what to say to make things right, or how to make her look at me with something other than pain. Maybe there’s nothing else in her, I thought, watching Sienn disappear among the tents. Maybe that’s all there is between us now.
TWENTY FOUR
I exited the void on my feet. Cold, blustery air stole my breath. The only light was the flickering door behind me. Sound was nearly nonexistent as well, just a few night birds and some bugs that were still holding out hope for warm weather. They were fooling themselves. Langor got cold early, and it stayed that way a long time.
Unlike Kael’s woodland peaks, Mirra’kelan’s western mountains were sterile and gray. Mined near to death underneath, the slopes ab
ove jutted sheer and barren like row upon row of great fangs stretching up to scrape the clouds. The patches of forest sprinkled in here and there were all that broke the winter winds that blew fiercely across the plateau for a good half the year. Feeling the gale rush through my coat like I wasn’t wearing one, I understood perfectly why the bulk of the population crammed into the harbor cities that lined the coast. No one did much living in the mountain villages. The remote settlements like where Krillos was born were all about survival.
Hearing him coming, I stepped back. Krillos barreled through Lirih’s open door, and the icy terrain carried him farther than I thought. He nearly knocked me over. I’d just re-settled the pack on my shoulder when he hissed. “Shit. The horses,” and tackled me. We landed on the frosty ground as our mounts emerged from the swirling black, inches from our heads. They broke into a full run and were out of sight in seconds.
I attempted to sound grateful as Krillos yanked me up. “Thanks.”
“I knew we should have ridden them through,” he grumbled.
I gave a whistle to Kya. “Any clue how far the keep is? Or where?”
Krillos tilted his head back. “Not much of a moon. Few stars. Feels like snow.” The doorway hadn’t closed yet. Krillos stepped closer to the light it was giving off and pulled out his compass. “Darkhorne is that way,” he pointed. He stood a moment, feeling the wind, smelling the air. “Water’s that way,” he said, pointing again, “which means the forest…” Krillos turned slightly, “is over there. It shouldn’t be far. If we came out where I planned, at the edge of the plateau, then that forest is our best bet for cover between here and the sea.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 19