by Jill Myles
I had to save Alek somehow.
I hesitated for a moment, then set the oil lamp down on the ground. I wouldn’t be able to fight with it in my hands. The cave immediately got darker, the sounds more revolting as the spider continued to work over him, its legs making the horrible rustling noise I’d recognized from before. Alek's sword lay not too far away – a few feet from me. To get it, I would have to move closer to the spider, but I had few other choices – my dagger didn’t have the reach I needed to defend Alek. I leapt forward for the sword, and the spider lashed out at me with one hooked leg, turning toward me and hissing.
I blindly slashed at the spider. The curved blade of the dagger connected with spider leg, and sliced through. The creature gave a horrible scream and reared its legs again, turning and hissing at me. I scrambled to reach Alek's sword but it lay stuck in the cobwebs, and I tugged, trying to free it and failing. This new kind of web that the monster spider was spinning was thick, sticky – my hands stuck to it just as much as the sword.
The spider hissed again, and its mandibles clacked close to my ears. I scooted backward against the wall as the creature turned fully to attack me. My fingers brushed against the belly of the oil lamp and burned at the sensation – the glass was almost too hot to touch. Without thinking, I swung the lamp and broke it over the creature’s face, spilling hot lamp oil over the eyes and mouth.
It lit on fire.
The creature screamed again and again, the legs buckling as it wove and scrambled to get away from me. I slid past it and grabbed Aleksandr's sword, but it wasn’t needed – the creature was hurrying back down the tunnel away from us, and taking the last vestiges of light with it.
Silence descended again, and the horrible, all consuming gloom. I forced myself not to panic, wiping frightened tears from my eyes. I sheathed my dagger and searched along the floor for Alek's sword, and clutched it in my hand tightly, waiting to defend us.
The spider did not return. Long moments passed and eventually my frightened muscles uncoiled slightly, and I moved forward on the floor, seeking Aleksandr. “Alek? Are you there?”
He didn’t answer, but after a few tense moments of patting the webs and searching, I found him and laid my cheek to his chest. His heart still beat, slowly but steadily. Choking back a sob of relief, I sheathed the sword back in the scabbard at his belt and tapped his cheek to wake him. No response. He might have been badly hurt, but I couldn’t tell in the darkness.
A spider crawled over my hand and I shook it away, then brushed Alek's face off in the darkness. We couldn’t stay here – we needed to get back out into the light. Very well – I could carry him. My hands grasped his jerkin and I tugged on his body. He was so heavy – heavier than myself and limp and unmoving. I tugged again, harder, trying to move him forward. His body shifted a few feet, but that was it. Frustration built in my throat, and I bit it back. I couldn’t leave him.
I wouldn’t leave him.
So I jerked and heaved and pulled and gritted my teeth, and inch by grueling inch, I laboriously hauled Alek's body through the darkness and toward the light.
The tunnel was endlessly long, and my arms ached. After a time, I looped my belt under his arm and used it to pull, but by the time I dragged him into the grasses outside the tunnel and into the light, it was fading toward night.
I examined Alek with worried fingers. His hair was full of cobwebs and filthy with dirt and dead spiders, but there was no bleeding. Why was he unconscious? I unbuttoned his jerkin and smoothed my hand over his chest. Nothing there, but there was a large twin set of puncture wounds in his shoulder, the edges of each hole red. The creature had bit him. A new kind of fear settled in my stomach – what if he never woke up?
I refused to think about it. Instead, I made him comfortable, unpacking our spare clothes as a makeshift bed for him. I got water from the stream and refilled our flasks, dribbling a bit between his lips to wet his throat, and stroked it to force him to swallow. He didn’t awaken, and the sun was going down. Trying to remember everything I’d seen Alek do for our campsite, I cleared a spot for a campfire and gathered wood. I’d remembered him grabbing strips of bark off of the trees to act as tinder, but there were no trees where we were at, just green grasses and a merry stream. So instead, I opted to burn a small portion of my sleeve that had gotten soaked in the lamp oil when I’d filled it. I pricked my finger and pressed a thumb print to Aleksandr's flint and managed to light the fabric after a few sparks.
Keeping it going proved a little trickier, and I spent half the night gathering tinder and dried sticks for the fire, and then trying to keep it steadily blazing. There was not a lot to burn in the area, so I had to supplement our small fire with whatever I could find, including our small, precious peat bricks. Strangely enough, I didn’t mind the work – the night sky was brilliant with stars, the breeze caressed my face, and I was so overjoyed at being out of the tunnel that I didn’t mind having to scrounge to build our fire or that the night breeze had a chill to it…if only Alek would awaken.
When the fire was going decently, I moved back to Alek and studied him. His breathing was as even as ever, but he still wouldn’t awaken. I pushed aside my worry and smoothed the rumpled, dirty hair from his brow. It was caked with spiders and dust, and I winced. While he’d slept, I’d rinsed out my own hair and shook out my clothing – the least I could do for him was the same. Ripping off the other sleeve of my gown, I soaked it in water from the waterskin and washed his face clean. His hair seemed equally dirty, and I used the cloth to try and clean it as best as possible – at least I’d be able to wipe away all spider webs and bugs from him.
A strange thing happened. As I stroked his hair with the wet fabric, my hands felt sticky. I rinsed my hands and went back to work, brushing the wet cloth over his hair to clean it, only to have the same results. Strange. I lifted the cloth closer to the fire and was surprised to see it covered in a shimmery golden shade. Some sort of residue from the spider webs? It would be impossible to tell until the daylight.
There was a choking gasp and Alek sat bolt upright, scrambling to his feet.
“Are you all right?” I called after him.
He reached for his sword and drew it, turning in a circle, his stance wary. “The spider–”
“It’s gone,” I said to him, getting to my feet. “I threw the lamp on it and it caught on fire.”
He touched his shoulder, where the spider had bit him, and then stared at me in wonder. “You scared it off?”
“With my lamp. Are you all right?” I moved toward him, loosening the collar of his jerkin and exposing the wound. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but it looked less red and angry than before.
He grasped my shoulders. “You scared the spider away with the lamp? That’s amazing.”
His praise made me blush, an uncomfortable feeling. “Not amazing. Just a bit of luck. I’d already touched up the lamp from before. The luck stuck around.”
Aleksandr shook his head, as if finding it difficult to grasp my words, then stared over me at the fire. “How did you get the fire going?”
A hint of a blush tinged my cheeks. “I used a bit of luck on the flint and steel, too.”
He stared at it, then back to me. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know what you mean. What luck are you talking about?”
Was he being dense? Deliberately rude? Mocking my small magic? I tried to brush his hands off my shoulders, but he clamped them down harder, staring down at me with intense eyes. “Rinda?”
“My magic,” I said crabbily. “If you must know.”
He gave me a dumbfounded look. “You have magic?”
“Of course I do. I’m Balinoran, aren’t I?”
“Does everyone in Balinore have magic?”
“Now you’re making fun of me. Of course everyone does…” my words died at the astonished expression on his face. “You don’t have magic?” I asked delicately.
“No.” He searched my face again, then gave my shoulders
a bit of a squeeze. “I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time grasping this. Your magic is…luck?”
Oh dear. He was making it sound far more exciting than it was. “Only for inanimate objects,” I babbled, hasty to explain lest he grow more excited than he should be. “It’s very small magic, really. Laughably small. Anything I get a drop of my blood on, I can transfer a bit of luck to it. It’s mostly useful for small things, like not dropping dishes or making sure paintings hang properly,” I said, then stopped when he continued to stare at me. “Nothing, really.”
He continued to stare at me, his mouth slightly open. After a moment, he shook himself. “And you used this on the flint and steel,” he repeated.
“And my dagger,” I admitted. “I was able to hit the spider with it. And my skirts, so they wouldn’t stick in the webs. And the lantern, so it’d stay lit.”
“And the torches,” he added after a moment. “Is that what you were doing every time you grabbed one from me? I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I wanted to make sure they stayed lit,” I said, feeling rather self-conscious under his scrutiny. “Like I said, it’s just very small magic.”
“It’s amazing,” he began.
“Oh, now really,” I retorted. “I don’t see–”
Alek's hands grasped the sides of my face, and he leaned in and gave me an exuberant kiss. “Amazing,” he declared again with a laugh.
I stared up at him in surprised shock. He’d kissed me again? His mouth had felt firm and warm against my own, and I’d caught a hint of his warm breath against my cheek. The funny coil began in my stomach again.
His thumb brushed my cheek, and he stared down at me with a thoughtful expression, then leaned in to kiss me again. Alek's lips brushed against my own, and my entire body tingled into alertness. At first, the brush of his mouth against my own was gentle, exploring. He pressed a light kiss against my upper lip, then my lower one, as if gently exploring my mouth. I remained there, frozen in place. I hadn’t expected Alek to kiss me.
I hadn’t expected to like it so very much, either.
I held my breath as he gently leaned in and pressed his mouth lightly against my own once more, and his tongue brushed against the seam of my mouth. Warmth began to flow through my limbs, and I clutched at the sleeves of his jerkin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I didn’t know what to do – no one had ever kissed me before. I remained frozen in place, wanting to kiss him back and not knowing how to do it.
Alek pulled away from me and got that flushed look on his face. “I apologize, Rinda.”
“What? I–”
He gave me one last, light kiss on the mouth, silencing my protests. “I just wanted to tell you that you were wonderful. You saved my life.” His warm, soft smile seemed to melt straight into my body. “And we’re here, now. In Lioncourt. We’ll be in the city tomorrow.”
My resolve melted into a puddle, and my good mood vanished. For some reason, I didn’t like hearing about Lioncourt. When we got to Lioncourt, I’d be leaving Alek. I’d request the divorce and introduce myself to the Lioncourt king. I had no doubts in my mind that he’d want to marry me – especially after traveling all those long days to marry me in the first place.
So why did the thought fill me with such pain? And why did I keep looking up at Alek, hoping that he’d kiss me again? Especially if I wanted to get our marriage annulled?
Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
After a sleepless night, I awoke before the sun came up. Alek was quiet, which suited me well – I found myself tongue-tied around him, still thinking about our kiss. In silence, we split a breakfast of carrots and dried venison, the last of our supplies from Joanne’s small cottage. They had not lasted the week, but it mattered little when we were in the bright, open sunlight.
We set off across the sunny plains. The sun had always seemed pleasant in Balinore, if not brilliant. Here in Lioncourt, on the other side of the mountains, the world was golden with sunlight, and the air thick with warmth. I loved it. It didn’t matter that it soon grew too warm to be pleasant – I’d welcome all the sunshine on my face I could get. As we walked, I tilted my face toward it, trying to soak in as much light as possible.
This side of the mountains seemed vastly different from Balinore. The grounds at home were cold and rocky, the sea-coast grey and stormy. Here it was all rolling plains dotted by low flowering trees, and waving green grasses. If I put my hand above my eyes to shield the sun, I could see about us for what seemed like leagues on end. It was all lovely and colorful and bright. In the distance, a cluster of colorful shapes dotted the horizon.
Alek pointed at it. “That’s the outskirts of the capital city. We’ll be there by the end of the day.”
“Oh,” I said. “Thank you.”
The silence between us grew awkward again, and I glanced up at him between my lashes. Aleksandr seemed thoughtful today, though his ever-present smile had returned. His hair was dark with travel grime and a shadow of beard stubble traced along his jaw. It made him look a little different. Again, I got the odd feeling that I’d seen him somewhere before. It was disconcerting. My gaze strayed to his smiling mouth, and I thought about the kiss from last night. I couldn’t get it out of my mind.
As if sensing my thoughts, Alek glanced over at me and smiled. He no longer blushed when he looked at me, though I suspected his shyness was not completely gone. “So…does everyone in Balinore have magic?”
This was a much safer topic than kisses. “Everyone,” I agreed. “From the farmers all the way up to royalty.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled over at me. “Joanne and her carrots.” At my nod, he gave me a curious look. “So why were you hiding yours? Why did you think your magic was not important?”
I shrugged, feeling the prickly discomfort I always did when I had to talk about my Birthright. I stared down at my shoes as I walked so I wouldn’t have to look over at Alek. “My hair is dark,” I said finally, forcing the words from my throat.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Now he was just making fun of me. “The nobility has the greatest Birthright magic in Balinore. As a sign of purer bloodlines, pale hair is treasured. The darker your hair, the more polluted your bloodline and the smaller your magic. My mother was not noble – she was a peasant.”
“My mother was not noble either.”
“Yes, but you’re not royal,” I bit at him. “My sister has pale golden hair. Mine’s just a mousy brown.”
He glanced over at me with a slight smile on his face. “And your sister has great magic?”
I nodded. “Imogen can find water anywhere. She can call it forth from the ground without effort. The farmers love her. We have not had a drought since she came into her Birthright.”
“So?”
I frowned at him. “So? My sister’s Birthright is amazing.”
“For a land that is in need of water, sure.” He gestured at the rolling green hills that we walked through. At the small flowering trees. At the river that glittered in the distance. “Lioncourt is full of streams and rivers and lakes. We get rain regularly. Your sister’s Birthright – while impressive – would not be a necessity here.”
“You’re just saying that to cheer me up–”
“I’m not,” he said in a cheerful voice. “I mean, you’ve magicked everything we’ve had lately. We can start a fire in minutes thanks to your magicking of the flint. My sword can now strike without me having to think about it. Our torches never blew out while we were traveling.” He turned and gave me a serious look. “You saved me from a marauding spider. Now who’s to say that your magic isn’t powerful?”
“I…” I swallowed hard and stared up at him in surprise. “No one, I guess.”
“Perhaps you should stop thinking of yourself as less than your sister and start thinking of your magic as powerful in its own right.”
“But my hai
r,” I protested, lifting a tangled strand.
“Is a lovely shade of brown,” he agreed, reaching out to tug on it. “My eyes are brown. My hair is not blonde. No one in my country is. We are all brown with brown hair and brown eyes and not a speck of magic. It doesn’t bother anyone there at all.”
“So are you trying to tell me that I’ll be the most magical person in Lioncourt, simply by the fact that I happen to have magic and no one else does?”
“Lovely girl,” he said, lifting the lock of my hair in his hand and kissing the strands. “You are already the most magical person in Lioncourt.”
I couldn’t help it. This time I was the one that blushed.
~~ * ~~
The roads that led in to the city sprawled on the horizon, like the center of a vast spider web. While there were trees dotted here and there, for the most part, Lioncourt was made up of lush rolling plains and plowed fields. The world was green and growing and lovely, and I found my spirits lifting even higher as we walked. Alek seemed to be struggling with this aspect of the journey – his hand constantly went to the pommel of his sword, and I knew he was worried.
As for me, everything was better now that we were out of the cave. I liked the look of Lioncourt, very much. It was so different from home, where the ground was rocky and the soil poor. The world here was verdant, and though it did not have the wealth of skinny trees that Balinore did, I couldn’t be sorry. I liked the green openness of Lioncourt. As we walked, I saw farmers working in the field, oxen yoked to the plow. The farmers waved at us as we walked toward the city, their faces brown with the sun, and I smiled and waved back at them, thrilled to be nearing the end of our journey.
The rolling grasses gave way to plowed field after plowed field, and the dot of houses turned into a patchwork quilt of homes scattered about the countryside. The jumble of buildings grew thick as the city itself came into view, small squares of homes seemingly stacked atop one another.
As we walked, carts would roll past, and travelers would greet us. Merchants offered us a ride in their carts, but Aleksandr declined them all with a friendly wave and a shake of his head. I knew he was thinking of the soldiers that had been captured, and I kept a little closer to him at that point. Lioncourt was sunny and warm and green, but it was still a dangerous place.