“You don’t seem very suppressed,” I told her.
“I was liberated almost two years ago. I’ve had time to adjust.”
“Two years?” That surprised me. “Who freed you?”
“I believe you call them rebels. They’re labeled as weak and ineffective by the other races. Discarded like trash.” Sienn stepped over the rim of the tub. Water rose up around her slender backside as she sunk down inside the cask. “In truth, they are simply people as any other.” Her body disappeared beneath the surface. The tips of her hair floated around her face, darkening. “They are free people,” she added.
“Why did they release you? Did they know what you were?”
“They were raiding camps all over Rella, looking to grow their numbers. Their leader came into possession of a record book from the slave camp where I was born. He discovered a mistake in the log where the name of my line had been misspelled for generations. The imbeciles had no idea what they had.”
“I’m sure your new friends are taking good care of you.”
“They are,” she said, missing my sarcasm. “They gave me tomes and scrolls full of spells, information on my ancestors. With their help I have become what I should have been all along. And with the knowledge I’ve gained, I’m repaying them.”
I squinted at her. “Repaying how?”
“Imparting my wisdom, enlightening their minds…as any teacher would to those anxious to be taught.”
“You’re training a band of thieving dissidents how to enhance their magic? How to tap into other lines? You can’t be serious.”
“They’re slow learners. My ways are difficult for them. Being Shinree is difficult. They’ve been ignorant of what it means their entire lives. As was I.”
“These precious pupils of yours have been harassing Rella’s cities and villages for years, Sienn. And now you’re making them stronger? Instructing them how to do real harm? Don’t you see how quickly this could get out of hand?”
Apparently she didn’t. Unaffected by the shock and concern in my voice, Sienn offered a nonchalant shrug and leaned gracefully back in the water. Floating serenely on the surface, her hair fanned out behind her. Water lapped against the sides of her breasts and the curves of her thighs.
The moment was remarkably similar to my first encounter with the Arullan girl. Nevertheless, I was very aware that Sienn wasn’t a dream. She was here in front of me, accessible and, evidently, uninhibited. I was fairly certain she was mine for the taking too, if I could get past her lies and her not-so-subtle evasions.
“What do you want?” I asked her.
“You.”
Her response was as irritating as it was arousing. “Anything else?”
Sitting up, Sienn tilted her head to the side. Water trickled down out of her hairline and over the planes of her face as she held the pose, considering her words or (more likely), debating how truthful she should be. “Magic is so much more than attack or defense,” she said at last, which was not an answer at all. “I can help you move beyond that. I can teach you to cross the boundaries that blood has drawn, to retain your strength when casting and avoid an unwanted magic-price. Ian,” she said my name with what sounded like sincerity. “You don’t have to be at the mercy of your cravings. I can train you to control your need for magic, or at the very least, how to live with it.”
“Thanks, but I’m living with it right now.” I took a long, slow swig of the wine.
“Perhaps, I can show you a more constructive way?”
“Such as?”
“Learning to let go of what drives you to cast. And what limits you.”
“I’m a soldier, Sienn. You can’t change that.”
“Owning a particular blood is not the issue, Ian. Guilt, empathy, anger, pain—love. Emotion blocks your abilities. It clouds your judgment. Weakens your will.”
“Then, if I want to cast like you, I have to feel nothing?”
Sienn smiled like I was a dense. “I feel. Emotion merely does not shackle me. I can separate myself from it whenever I need to.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Ten years ago when you wielded the Crown of Stones against Langor, emotion drove your casting and things happened you did not intend. Now, you live in fear of it happening again, and that fear chokes your abilities. It suppresses them. You don’t need chains or Kayn’l to make you a slave, Ian. You do it to yourself every day.”
My jaw tensed at the eerie familiarity of her words. They reminded me of the ones that came out of Taren Roe’s mouth in the swamps. “What’s the cost for this help you’re offering, Sienn? I had to sell myself to get you to save Malaq’s life back in Kael. Is that why you’re here, to collect on my debt?”
“Not at all. I ask only that you meet someone. His name is Jem. He leads us toward a new future. He believes that with your help we can—”
I cut her off with a wave of the bottle and a rude bout of laughter. “That’s what all this is about? Your spell at the Owl, breaking into the castle, seducing me, this elaborate ruse… You’re trying to recruit me?”
“We could do great things together.”
Looking at the wisps of hair curling about her face, at the water breaking over her taut, pink nipples; I was pretty sure I wasn’t thinking of the same great things she was.
“How did you find me in Kael?” I asked. “Were you tracking me?”
“I was in the city when that foul Langorian arrived.”
“Danyon,” I nodded.
“He wasn’t very discreet, asking questions, threatening the merchants. He hired some locals as spies, so I tracked them. I assumed one would eventually spot you.”
I stepped up to the tub, squatted down and felt the water with my hand. “You tried to get me out of the tavern before the ambush.”
“I tried to keep you out of the city entirely. My boundary spell alerted me when you were close and I cast on that the page—the jittery young one with all the hair?”
“Liel,” I said, smirking at her description. “Why him?”
“He had an honest face, and I knew you wouldn’t question his ties to the castle. It was painfully easy to make him believe it was his duty to bring you to King Sarin.”
“You do realize that these are people you’re casting on? They aren’t here for your amusement.” Flinging the water off my hands, I stood up. “Are you behind all this? Stealing the Crown of Stones, stealing my magic, bolstering Draken’s conquests? Are you allied with Langor?”
“If I had the Crown of Stones, Draken would be dead and enslaving a Shinree would be punishable by death.”
“Your rebel friends were in Kabri when it fell. They looked the other way while the Rellans were being slaughtered. Which makes your claim of no alliance sound like complete bullshit.”
“The Rellans are not our problem, or our enemy. Draken’s attack simply gave us an opportunity to rescue many of our kind. We have no alliance with anyone.”
“How do you know? Maybe you’re esteemed leader is keeping you in the dark.”
“He would never.”
“Then you’re just choosing to look the other way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“A Shinree who is adept at crossing bloodlines is working with Draken of Langor. He resurrected the eldring, stole the Crown of Stones, and murdered both Rella and Kael’s Kings. And he just sent a nasty spell my way. So right now,” exasperation lent an edge to my voice, “I need you to wake the fuck up to what’s really going on and give me the name of anyone you trained that might even be close to capable of wielding that kind of power.”
Her lips pursed. “It isn’t one of us.”
“What about this man, Jem. How well do you know him?”
“Jem is my savior.”
“Your savior?” That was the second time I’d heard that term recently. “Is that your assessment, or more of a self-appointed title?”
“It’s what he is. He pulled me out of slavery. Fed me. Cl
othed me. When the Kayn’l wore off and I was lost, he was there. As I am now for him. To my dying breath I will aid Jem in ending the Law of Suppression and bringing freedom to the Shinree.”
“That’s quite a goal. And quite a vow,” I added, finding the level of passion in her voice worrisome. “You really think he can do all that?”
“I do. Jem is a persistent man. A driven man.”
“Is he a man who would use the Crown of Stones to make Draken High King?”
“A Shinree would never support a Langorian.”
“Yeah, well there’s been a lot of never happening lately.” I flopped down hard on the bench behind me. “I’m starting to think the word doesn’t mean what it used to.”
Sienn watched me a moment. “You really are troubled by all this. Perhaps, if you unwind the answers will come? I can help with that.” Lowering her lids, she gave me a persuasive smile. “If you so desire.”
What I desired was to lick the streams of water off her body, but I could barely keep up with how fast she was switching tactics. From one minute to the next Sienn was bold, demeaning, aloof, seductive, and a little bit too desperate.
Gliding toward me, the water broke around her body. It fell away as she stood and stepped out of the tub. Droplets fled the ends of her hair and ran swiftly down over the pale skin of her bare breasts. They soaked into my breeches as she knelt down in front of me and placed her hands on my knees.
I took a shaky breath. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Shhh.” Her hands slid; up my legs, my stomach, my chest, my shoulders.
“Sienn, don’t.” But it was a weak protest. I wanted her hands on me. I wanted mine on her. To find out if she responded like Imma, if she felt the same, tasted the same.
Her fingers wandered over my face. I grabbed them. Water trickled off her skin onto my wrist and it was still hot. If it were real it would have cooled by now.
I jerked away and stood. “Is this a spell? Did you cast this on me?”
“Your lust?” On her knees, she looked up at me and laughed. “No, Ian. Fate pulls us together.”
“Fate doesn’t like me.”
“Perhaps he likes me.” Multi-hued eyes on mine, Sienn began crawling, catlike, up the front of me. “You like me, don’t you?” Slowly, she rubbed her wet, naked body over my swollen groin, wound her arms around my neck and into my hair, and said, “You like me a lot.”
Held hostage by her eyes, my mouth moved reflexively toward hers. “More likely it’s magic. Another way for Draken to distract me from the Crown of Stones.”
“Such a wary man,” she teased. “Do you always look for something to mistrust?”
Putting a hand on her moist, bare hip, I pulled her in tighter. “I usually don’t have to look very far.”
Sienn opened her mouth to reply and I pushed my tongue inside. Her responding kiss was slow and sensual. Her hands roamed with a measured, easy pace, as if she was in no hurry to discover me. Not like Imma. Not at all, I thought, pleased. I liked the idea of leisurely exploring every inch of her.
Yet, tension had my entire body strung so tight it ached, and the more Sienn’s tongue stroked mine, the deeper her fingers kneaded my arms and back, the more I wanted to push her down on the bench, the floor—up against the wall. Where didn’t matter; only the outcome. I was desperately in need of the one thing I was never allowed in the dreams: release.
I dropped the bottle. My hands on her ass, I steered Sienn toward the wall and a blur of light flashed across my eyes.
Transitory, gone by the time we made contact, I dismissed it in favor of Sienn’s mouth. It was incredibly supple, her tongue agile and demanding.
The flash repeated. It lingered briefly, granting me a moment of form and color that were alarmingly familiar.
No, I thought. Not here. Not now.
It came again, a burst of vibrancy. Suddenly, it was dark skin I was touching. A young, round face I was kissing. The damp body against me was small and strong.
Long curling, black hair fell wet over my arms. Full, found breasts pressed against me.
Trying to banish the apparition, I yanked Sienn closer. I kissed her harder. The lips beneath mine responded, but there was blood on the air. It was on her skin, her lips.
I could taste it in her mouth.
Pulling away in disgust, I looked into a set of wide, Arullan eyes.
A bruised mouth said, “Save me.”
I cried out—a wordless scream of rage—and the illusion shattered. The girl was gone and Sienn was standing naked in front of me, with a disturbing mix of humiliation and fearful dismay in her eyes. I knew I should say something. I just didn’t have the strength.
Despondent and breathless, I turned away, and Sienn pulled me back. Her smile compassionate, she silently and gently smoothed the hair from my face.
There was genuine kindness in the gesture, and I hadn’t expected that.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I folded her into my chest. I wrapped my arms around the small of her back and pulled her close. It wasn’t an advance. There was nothing sexual in the embrace. I just held her, drinking in the quiet, breathing in the steam.
Gradually, like she knew I needed it, Sienn put her arms around me too, and I couldn’t deny it felt nice. Her embrace was warm and accepting. It made me yearn to slow down and relax, to stop fighting against the dream and against myself. It tried to convince me to let go of the indignity and the pretense, and admit that I wasn’t okay. That I was barely holding on and I needed help. I just wasn’t sure I needed it from her.
With difficulty, I broke away and stepped back.
“You’re going,” she said; with more anger than surprise.
“It’s for the best.”
“Why? Because I’m not Imma, I’m not some barmaid you can lead around like a puppet? Some whore you can pay and walk away from? Is that what you want from me? Is that all you want for yourself?”
I looked straight into her eyes. “No. It’s not.”
“Then listen to me, Ian. Fate wants us together. I know you can feel it. Open yourself up. We are the same.” Sienn took my hand and placed it over her heart. It was beating strong and fast. I felt the pounding echo up my arm. My pulse stepped up to match hers and they formed a perfect, synchronous rhythm that seemed to resonate through us both. “It’s wondrous, isn’t it?” she said, watching amazement creep into my eyes. “I can show you how it’s done. I can show you so many things. With my instruction, your magic will rise to heights you can’t possibly imagine.”
I hid my disappointment in a dark, angry laugh. “Damn, you’re good,” I said, moving her aside. “But you’re wasting your time.” I went to the door and drew the bolt back. “No matter how many tricks you play, or how times you take your clothes off, I’m not joining your damn cause.” I gave Sienn one last, regretful look, and left her.
TWENTY EIGHT
The guise of Imma gawked at me from the kitchen. Underneath it, Sienn emoted nothing with her borrowed Kaelish face. She just stared, waiting for me to pull myself together and come clean.
She was entitled to it, having just bore witness to my violent waking. Watching my mind shifting back into reality, hearing me choke back a startled cry as recognition of my surroundings settled in; I’d be a fool to try and convince her nothing was wrong.
I just didn’t have the nerve to tell her that while the rest of the house slept soundly, roused by the gentle, pre-morning light streaming through the windows, I’d been in a dark cave, hanging by my wrists over a pit of fire, awakened by my own screams.
I could still feel the hot smoke in my lungs.
Needing water, I reached into one of the bags piled beside me on the floor, and knocked into something. As it tipped, rolled, and smashed into the stone edging of the fireplace, I realized it was the bottle I’d left in the bathhouse. Even after dropping it, and now banging it into the hearth, it was still intact, and as full as it was at dinner.
Bottomless and unbreakable, I though
t gratefully.
Helping myself to it, I found the courage and looked at her. Still, I said nothing, and neither did she. The alarm in Imma’s eyes made clear Sienn’s wish to know what was wrong. The longing in mine said I wanted to tell her. Yet she didn’t ask and I didn’t offer. Neither of us was willing to speak first, and the moment stretched so long it could have easily turned awkward. Instead, it became something else, something intimate and vulnerable. It became the bathhouse all over again, with that same sense of crushing desire rising in me and the same, inexplicable attraction building between us.
It grew rapidly, making the impulse to go to her, to confess the dreams and beg her to make them stop—to strip off her dress and take her right there in the kitchen—so powerful, I could scarcely sit still.
“Sienn…” I said.
Jarryd ploughed through the front door. His abrupt presence startling us both, as Sienn jumped, I stood. Something hit the floor in the kitchen. The bottle fell from my hand, bounced, and didn’t break. There was a table and six chairs between us but we both looked guilty as hell.
If it were Malaq, he would have noticed the tension in the room right off and offered some witty comment that I wouldn’t have found funny. Jarryd, however, shut the door, placed his bow on the table, and didn’t react at all. He was visibly deep in thought.
“Everything all right?” I asked him.
“I guess,” he replied. “Something had Malaq’s horse going for a while.”
“See anything?”
Shaking his head, Jarryd slid the quiver off one shoulder and shrugged with the other. “You know that damn beast of his is quicker to rile than I am.”
I managed a smile. “We should get going. Where’s Malaq?”
Sienn pointed to the floor-to-ceiling curtain dividing the back section of the house. “It was late when he finished with the horses. I let him have my bed.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price Page 24