East

by Lizzy Ford

  Batu chuckled. “No, goddess, you are not. You will not see war.” The edge in his tone wasn’t one I had heard before.

  Glancing at him, I thought I saw a shadow cross his features. It didn’t seem possible Batu had even more depth than I suspected last night. I was more curious about him after his great grandmother’s tale about his disappearance.

  Catching myself staring, I left the barrel to retrieve my arrows. I collected them all and returned. Suvdin’s attention was on Batu; his focus, however, was on me. They were talking quietly.

  Ghoajin appeared from behind a nearby tent, trailed by her entourage. “Batu!” she barked.

  “Yes, grandmother,” he said, a trace of a smile on his features.

  I grinned, loving her abruptness with the men of her family.

  “We must talk.”

  He moved away from Suvdin to attend his grandmother.

  “I love Ghoajin,” I told Suvdin. “She yelled at her husband like that, too.”

  “She is a strong woman,” Suvdin agreed. “Are you comfortable here? Batu has said this is not your world and the bow seems to frustrate you.”

  “I am, thank you. I want to fit in.”

  “The Empire welcomes everyone. You do not need to change who you are, Moonbeam. Your gifts are such that they support the Empire and its people.”

  Every once in a while, when someone said Empire, I envisioned spaceship battles from Star Wars. This empire seemed more forgiving than Darth Vader or the Emperor, though I suspected life as a slave wasn’t the greatest.

  “Batu says you are to stay here for a short time. You will be welcomed to return at any time.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured. “I don’t know what his plans are. It’s apparent I can’t go anywhere without him.” I waved towards the targets. “I’d starve in a day.”

  Suvdin ducked her head with another smile. “He will take care of you. He is a good man.” The wistfulness was back. I applauded her silently for not seeming jealous, though maybe she understood my relationship with Batu wasn’t what hers would’ve been, had they married. I was a ward, not a wife. “It is time for Ghoajin to rest.”

  Suvdin moved away from me, towards the gaunt, tiny figure lecturing her much larger great grandson. The families were close, loyal and interconnected. I imagined the probability of survival was higher in a community such as this. It was different than the more independent way of life I was accustomed to. There was no driving out of town to visit friends or family without knowing how to hunt or fend for myself during the time I was gone.

  I was slowly puzzling through how to make it here. A tremor of fear and uncertainty slid through me at the thought of never seeing home again. It was a lot to let go of, and I didn’t know exactly how to release my past or my hope of seeing home one day.

  Be like Batu, I told myself. If I narrowed my focus to today, I’d survive. I had to stay occupied and continue learning.

  Not yet fully recovered from my own ordeal, I was almost grateful to see Ghoajin and Suvdin move away with their entourage. I needed a snack and a nap. One glance around was enough to tell me I had no clue which of the identical mushrooms was the tent I could rest in.

  Replacing the bow in the barrel, I walked to Batu. “I’m not sure which one is ours,” I admitted. “Can you take me back to the ger?”

  He turned away and guided us through the maze of tents, ducking into one. I trailed him and sighed upon entering, beat from the hours I spent on my feet learning about the camp. The fire at the center was out, though the tent remained warm.

  “You are well?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Tired.” I sat down beside the fire. My legs were stiff from horseback riding, too. I was a mess. “Suvdin is really nice.”

  “She is.”

  I glanced at him. As if expecting me to watch his reaction, he gave a half smile.

  “My little lamb is trying to be clever,” he said. “I prefer you honest, goddess. Too many men and women are foxes.”

  “It’s not my concern how you feel about her after all this time,” I said. “I guess I’m curious.”

  “I am happy, ugly one.” He sat down opposite me. “This is not what concerns you.”

  “No.” I hesitated. He was easy to talk to, more so than anyone else I’d ever met. “It’s not easy to give up something you care about. I’m not sure how I can let go of my world, my family, my friends.”

  “You think too much.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. He was probably right, but it was still irksome for him to say such a thing aloud. “Okay. Then I’m taking a nap,” I said and rose. “Leave me alone for a while.”

  “Do you wish me to sing you to sleep?”

  Flinging myself into bed, I considered his request. His weird singing did have a tranquilizing effect, one that cleared my busy thoughts. “Yes.”

  The low rumble began, and I closed my eyes.

  Within seconds, I was out.

  It was dark when my nap was over. I crawled out of bed and stretched. Batu was gone, though his gear was present. I tugged on my over tunic and left the tent. The night was not quite cold enough to see my breath but close. The temperature extremes here had to be close to thirty degrees over the course of twenty-four hours.

  Making my way in the direction of the bow practice area, I paused to listen to what sounded like another feast coming from the opposite direction. I didn’t feel up to people tonight, which was unusual for me. I was normally pretty outgoing. The nap helped clear my mind though I was still more emotional than usual, given my situation.

  I went to the bow and arrow area instead. It was dark, except for the brilliant starlight and the warm glow of mushroom tents around me. Sorting through the bows, I tested three before identifying the one I thought I’d used earlier with Suvdin.

  “Okay,” I murmured, mentally reviewing what she’d taught me. I took a breath and followed her instructions. My arms were a little steadier after rest, and I aimed carefully at the target.

  Releasing the arrow, I frowned. It landed in the same area as earlier, to the left of center, five feet in front of the target.

  I tried again.

  And again.

  “If nothing else, I’m nailing that spot,” I said and lowered the bow. I rolled my shoulders, at a loss as to how to fix either my aim or distance issue.

  “You favor your right arm and left eye.”

  Turning at Batu’s voice, I frowned at him. I wasn’t surprised to see him there; he had a knack for finding me, which I attributed to the fact he was obligated to protect me and knew I was helpless. “What do you mean?”

  “They are stronger.” He plucked a bow from the barrel and stood in front of me. “My right arm and right eye are stronger.” He demonstrated by closing his left eye and pretending to aim. “Your eye and arm are mismatched.” He closed his right eye this time.

  “Oh.” I fiddled with the bow. It was awkward to close my right eye and aim. “There’s no fixing that, is there?”

  “You can switch arms.”

  It took me a moment for my body to obey the command to swap. The new position was even more awkward than closing my right eye, my left arm considerably weaker.

  Lowering the bow, I gazed up at him, disappointed.

  “Or, you leave the bow to me,” he said and took it from my hands. “Your skills lie elsewhere.”

  “I don’t want them to,” I said and snatched it back. “Where I’m from, I’m completely independent. It seems … wrong to depend on you or anyone else for surviving every day.”

  Batu considered me. “You will have to train your left arm or right eye.”

  “Let’s do that.”

  He shifted to the barrel and retrieved a different bow. “This one is lighter.” He swapped the one I held for the new one. “Left arm.”

  I lifted it. It was all kinds of uncomfortable.

  Batu circled behind me to position and brace my elbows. His body heat was a pleasant contrast to the chilly night, and I shifted clos
er. Any qualms I had about personal space were mostly gone with him after all he’d done when I was fevered and our nights together, but I had to admit – I kind of wanted him close, too.

  I aimed and let the arrow loose. To my delight, it hit the bottom center of the target. “I’m doing it!”

  Batu chuckled. He bent for another arrow and handed it to me before returning his hands to my elbows.

  “Do you think I’ll be as good as you one day?” I asked and focused on notching the arrow.

  He was quiet.

  “Batu?” I looked up at him over my shoulder. “Is silence your way of saying no?”

  His gaze was on the target, and there was a trace of a smile on his features. “Do you prefer I lie to make you happy or tell the truth?”

  I gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Which one?” He nudged me with his hips since his hands were supporting my arms.

  “Truth,” I grumbled.

  “You are better served learning a different skill.”

  I released the arrow. It landed beside the other. “At least I’m consistently bad.”

  He dropped his hands, and I turned to face him. There were moments when I found myself breathlessly intrigued by the exotically different man before me, and this was one of them. The starlight and darkness of night rendered his masculine features mysterious. His muscular frame was relaxed, his dark eyes on me as I watched him. His shaved head was shadowed from several days of growth.

  He was attractive in a similar fashion to his world: raw, untamed and unnerving with relentless intensity. If Batu was a fire, this place was an oven. I didn’t know where this sudden tension between us originated or why I hadn’t noticed it before. It was not out of the picture to find him sexually attractive or to want something more, if I was stuck here. I had gone into my marriage with Taylor with too little care. I never planned on getting hitched again, but a lifetime without sex wasn’t on the table, either.

  Just … it was Batu, my guardian. If things went sour, we were stuck together until one of us was killed off. It didn’t seem smart to dip my toe in the pool, yet the connection between us was too intense to deny it existed.

  Unease stirred as I thought again of Taylor and my promise to myself never to connect with anyone or anywhere again. I had all but ditched that at this point, resolved by the fact I was stuck in the thirteenth century. But I didn’t quite feel ready for anything more than what I had with him, either. The lesson I learned in the Old West was far too powerful: people around me died. Batu was in a position of irrefutable danger as my guardian.

  I couldn’t take another heartbreak. I didn’t care how long I was in the Mongol Empire.

  “I think I’m hungry,” I said and cleared my throat. Stepping away, I crossed my arms. “You?”

  He replaced the bows and arrows. I was no longer cold; the heat of awareness was skittering through my blood, heightening my senses, and leaving me too eager to experience the heat of Batu’s body once more.

  Rather than return us to our tent, he led me to Ghoajin’s, where a boisterous feast was in full swing again tonight. We were warmly greeted, and I took a seat beside Suvdin.

  We stayed into the wee hours of the evening before the wear and tear on my body dragged me close to a doze once more. Batu escorted me back to our tent, and I tugged off the over tunic, followed by my boots, the moment I stepped foot inside. Hoping the awkwardness from earlier was gone, I stumbled into bed and sighed.

  “Suvdin is going to see if I am better suited towards any other skills tomorrow,” I told him, eyes on the ceiling. “When I’m not translating, I want to be useful.”

  “You are determined, ugly one.”

  “I want to contribute, Batu. Is that so hard to understand?” I listened to the sounds of him undressing while forbidding myself to look. I already knew he had an incredible body, and I was working on suppressing the warmth of desire heating the base of my belly.

  “No, goddess, it is not. You should not force it. Your skill will find you.”

  “Maybe. I need to keep occupied as much as possible, too.”

  “To take your mind off your home.”

  He read me way too well. I twisted my head to look at him. Shirtless, he was arranging his clothing and weapons on a blanket near the door. I watched the muscles of his chest and back slide beneath thick, smooth skin. “Thereabouts.”

  “Thereabouts,” he repeated, amused, with a glance at me.

  I wasn’t certain what he found funny this time, either. While Batu wasn’t complicated, he was too different for me to understand him at times. “Are you laughing at me?” I asked and sat up, wanting to know once and for all why he seemed so entertained by me.

  “No, goddess.”

  “I swear, once a day at least, you look at me like you’re laughing at me.”

  He shrugged. “You are different. I am trying to understand.”

  “Hmm. That’s good.”

  He straightened from his chores and gazed at me, waiting.

  “I don’t understand you either,” I told him. “You run around chopping off limbs and heads and then you hold me at night with such gentleness …” Bad example. My cheeks were warm. “You’re so honorable, except when you’re at battle.”

  “You do not believe battle to be honorable.”

  “I do not believe killing to be honorable.”

  “Ever?”

  “No.”

  He studied me. “You believe me to hold no honor.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t believe that at all. I believe our worlds are very different, and I am trying to understand yours. You are very honorable in this world, but where I come from, it’s … not like this. At all.”

  “You were raised to believe one way and now must adapt.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It is good you seek to adapt and not reject where you are.”

  “Thanks.” I think. “I am trying to let go of where I came from, who I was there. It is a challenge.”

  When I looked up, he was smiling.

  “What?” I demanded, exasperated. “Why are you laughing at me now?”

  “I do not laugh at you, Moonbeam,” he said and approached, dropping into the wide bed beside me. He rested on his back. “You are so grave about so many things.”

  “This is a very grave concern. How should I be?” I asked, confused. I shifted back to give him some room. My gaze instinctively went down his body, from the thick chest to his flat abs and narrow hips.

  “You should trust you are where you should be.”

  “You have everything figured out,” I said somewhat enviously. “How do you do it?” I stretched out on my side, head propped up and gaze on his features.

  “See, hear, smell, feel.”

  I sighed. “I know. You don’t dwell in your mind like I do. It’s not that easy to turn off.”

  “It is.”

  “For you, maybe! I’m not some warrior brute who –”

  He cupped his hand at the back of my neck and brought my face to his. His warm lips pressed to mine, and at once, my senses were flooded by the scent of his skin, the pressure of his mouth, the heat of his skin and solidness of the chest I braced myself against.

  My thoughts vanished, sizzled away and replaced by my senses.

  His kiss was gentle. At first, I was too surprised to move away, but shock melted into the tension between us, and I had no urge to leave his body.

  I started to respond, felt what I did, and pulled away to stare at him.

  He released me and returned the long look.

  “You’re right. It worked,” I said, embarrassed by the lowered timbre of my voice. “Good night, Batu.” Twisting, I lay down on my side, my back to him. I felt like running but had the sense he’d pursue if I did.

  My pulse was roaring, the warmth at the base of my belly blazing.

  “Good night, Moonbeam,” he returned softly. He rolled onto his other side and pressed his back to mine. “We named you Moonbeam. Do
you have a different name in your world?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  I hesitated. My old mantra of not getting attached no longer mattered now that I was stuck here. I stared at the felt wall a few inches in front of my eyes. I now had confirmation of the mutual attraction between us. But I didn’t know what to do about it. It seemed dangerous if there was emotion complicating our protector-goddess relationship.

  I shouldn’t tell him my real name or encourage the bond between us.

  But … I did. It only seemed fair after all he’d done for me. “Josie.”

  “It is a peculiar name.”

  “No more peculiar than Batu would be in my world.” I smiled. I liked Batu – a lot more than I should.

  I also couldn’t help thinking of Taylor once more. While it was true we were married for mere days, and he was dead, I experienced a flare of guilt at kissing Batu when I didn’t feel over Taylor yet. It was more than the guilt of him being uncreated; this felt more like I was cheating on his memory.

  In truth, I didn’t know what I owed him. He had made my life better while I was in the Old West and helped me cope. In turn, I helped make him cease to exist.

  I don’t want that to happen to Batu. Maybe this was what bothered me most. I cared about Taylor and lost him. I cared about Batu, too, and didn’t think I could go through such loss again.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day was hell. Suvdin ran me through every chore, task and skill in the entire camp, or so it felt like. Exhausted, thoroughly defeated, wanting to cry, I returned to the tent I shared with Batu just past sundown.

  “What did you learn?” he asked from his position sharpening his arrowheads near the fire. He didn’t look up, but this time, I knew he was laughing at me.

  Biting back tears, I flung my over tunic down. I was drenched and still smelled of sheep urine, goat blood, leather tanning oil … and everything else I’d gone through this day. “I can’t do anything,” I said, voice quivering. “The animals hate me. I threw up when I tried to skin a rabbit and the wool spinning made me sneeze until I couldn’t stand up. I can’t shoot a bow or heft a sword or …” I started crying out of frustration. Swallowing the tears, I continued. “I can’t carve wood to save my life or track prey or figure out how to carry those water buckets on my shoulder. Batu, I can’t even put up a tent!”