"I've been thinking about this for days,” Kalsan whispered, his breath brushing her lips.
Andrixine froze as Kalsan pressed his lips against hers.
A fragment from her dreams flitted across her mind. The pressure of a man's arms around her. His lips against hers. The melting warmth flooding her body.
She wanted that feeling to be real, not a dream. Andrixine raised her arms, gingerly resting her hands against his waist.
Kalsan slid his arms around her, drawing her close against him and continued the kiss. She hadn't expected that, or how her knees tried to fold as his body warmth flooded through her.
At first, his lips were soft and still against hers. She had to force herself to breathe, afraid to move. Then his lips parted, gently moving against her mouth. Andrixine let her head tilt back, responding to the increased pressure of his mouth.
When she flinched, he paused. Kalsan didn't move away, but waited. Her heart thudded in her ears. She tightened her fingers in the folds of his shirt, knowing there had to be more, wanting more. When he laughed, the sound was muffled and tickled inside her head. She forgot to breathe. She felt his pulse throbbing rapid and hard against her lips. She tried to mimic him, and that only increased the warm melting feeling.
"Who taught you to kiss?” Kalsan drew back all too soon. He guided her head to rest on his shoulder and wrapped his arms tighter around her. She liked that.
"Taught?” The question made no sense. Then she laughed, breathless, muffled against his shoulder. “You just did."
"Promise me, Andrixine. You'll never kiss anyone but me."
"But, Kalsan—"
"Promise me?” He tipped her head back and sealed her lips with another kiss before she could respond. “Andrixine, please?"
"You're—” She struggled to regain a sense of balance, and her breath. “Kalsan, you're the first. You're going to be my husband. I promise, no one will ever kiss me but you."
"Your husband. My wife.” He stroked a long strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “We'll be married tomorrow. We have to settle some things, first."
"You said that already.” She bit her lip against an urge to tell him to stop talking and kiss her again.
"I wish you weren't the heir, or the Sword Bearer. I would have asked to marry you without those problems."
"Problems?” She wanted to laugh, but wasn't sure why.
"Is there any chance ... Andrixine, I won't touch you unless you're willing. I swear that, on the blood of our oath-friend vows.” He released her, stepping back so there was nearly a handspan of air between them and only his hands on her shoulders. The sudden coolness made her shiver. “Andrixine, if you truly don't want to marry me, I'll leave."
"Leave?” She clutched at his arms.
"Of course, the way you kiss...” He grinned, mischief in his eyes. “You make it hard for a man to be honorable, my lady."
Andrixine took a deep breath. “What makes you think I don't want to marry you?"
"Those mournful looks you give me—the few times you do look at me. That's a starting place."
"I thought you were being coerced!” She flinched when her voice rose. Still, no response from her guard in the hall.
"Does that mean you do want to marry me?"
"Kiss me again?"
He gave a strangled sound, half-laugh and half-groan, and gathered her into his arms. Andrixine wrapped her arms tighter around him, to hold on and never let go.
"Marry me,” he whispered between slow, soft kisses.
"Yes."
"Forever, Andrixine. Past death, into Yomnian's halls."
"Forever."
"Tonight.” Kalsan suddenly drew back, so she nearly stumbled, tugged off balance. His eyes blazed. “Why not? Why do we need to wait?"
"But—the ceremony is only tomorrow evening."
"Our lives aren't our own.” He led her to the window.
"What?"
"You are the Sword Bearer. I am your guard, your liaison. Everything we do will be noted and made a part of history."
"Oh.” A gasp escaped her when he pressed on her shoulders and she found herself sitting on the edge of the sill.
"We have to make our own happiness, create a world no one can ever intrude into.” Kalsan sat next to her and swung his legs over the side so they dangled over her mother's garden.
"But, Kalsan—"
"Tomorrow's ceremony is for history. Tonight is for us."
"Kalsan—"
"We can go to Brother Klee, and he can take our vows."
"What are we doing on the window sill?"
"What will Marfil think if we walk past him and he didn't see me enter your room?” Kalsan grinned and gestured at the thick network of climbing vines below them. “I remember you talking with Lorien, about climbing these vines and...” He shrugged.
She could only laugh.
* * * *
THE CLEARING LAY in a protective ring of brambles and tall pines, at a bend in the river that fed the Faxinor estates. Kalsan sat with Andrixine wrapped warmly in the curve of his arm, leaning against the trunk of the tallest pine tree. The ground was soft with moss and fallen needles and thick mats of grass. They came to this clearing after finding Brother Klee and making their vows. It was a special place all through Andrixine's childhood, reserved just for the children, where they could stage mock battles and adventures in far-off lands. He had laughed and enjoyed this glimpse of her life, when she told him about some of her childhood adventures and dreams here. They sat and talked and watched the moon travel across the sky. Sometimes they spoke of the coming war, sometimes their plans for when the war ended.
They even spoke of children, which surprised Kalsan. He had thought that would be a tender subject with Andrixine, since the only reason they were marrying at all was because of her need for an heir. She had blushed when she admitted she wouldn't mind having a child now, with him as the father. Kalsan had kissed her until they were both breathless.
Andrixine dozed off moments ago in one of those silences that felt as clear and sweet as the night sky above them. Kalsan liked watching her sleep, her head resting on his shoulder, mouth slightly open, leaning so trustfully into his support. He liked the idea that he would see her like this quite often now.
"Please, Yomnian, let it be many years together,” he whispered. He tipped his head down to kiss her forehead. Andrixine woke with a tiny start.
Her eyes got wide. He held perfectly still, afraid to frighten her. Then, to his delight, she smiled and snuggled back closer against him.
"Sorry,” she whispered.
"For what?"
"Falling asleep on you like that."
"I doubt we can arrange to fall asleep at the same time.” That made her laugh. “I like watching you sleep, Andrixine."
"I make less trouble when I'm asleep.” That made him laugh in turn.
"I could swear Brother Klee was expecting us. You think the sword warned him?” He sighed when she nodded. Kalsan told himself to get used to such things from now on. “He was mightily pleased with us. I think he approves."
"I know.” She smiled a little wider.
"Maybe...” The thought that had been pressing on him while Andrixine slept grew clearer. “Maybe Yomnian approves, too. Maybe the way we feel right now, being so happy—you are happy, aren't you?” Kalsan held his breath, afraid she would hesitate or say something kind, not what was in her heart.
"Kiss me and let me show you how happy I am."
"I don't dare. Your kisses will make me a drunkard.” That made her smile and blush. Kalsan vowed to always keep that sparkle in her eyes, the hint of laughter in her voice.
"What were you saying before?"
"Hmm?” He had to backtrack his thoughts. It was hard to think, with Andrixine pressed close against him and the scent of her filling his head. “Oh—Yomnian. I was thinking ... maybe this is what happens when we do what's right. When we obey, Yomnian gives us our heart's desire, too."
"You are the only wife for me. If we didn't have that ridiculous ceremony to endure tomorrow and we didn't have to go to Cereston, I'd beg you to run away with me right now. It would be a grand life, wouldn't it, going wherever Yomnian sends us, using our skills to protect the weak and defenseless?"
"That's what we're doing already."
"Hmm, true, but with the entire world watching.” He wanted to kiss her again, but Kalsan looked into her eyes and knew he wouldn't be able to stop. His bottom was growing numb from the bumpy ground under the tree. This wasn't the most comfortable place for their first night of marriage. Fine for sitting and talking for a few hours, but nothing more.
"We have to go back, don't we?” she whispered, and groaned when he nodded.
"Thinking about tomorrow, waiting to be alone with you again, will be pure torture.” He pressed a quick kiss hard against her lips and wisely withdrew his arm. “You will think about me, won't you?"
"How can I stop thinking about you?"
"Our marriage began tonight, Andrixine. Don't ever forget that. Much as I want to make love to you—” He lost his train of thought a moment when she blushed and looked away. She didn't show any fear, and that realization stole his breath. “Much as I want that, what we have right now is far more important."
Andrixine nodded, her eyes half-hooded and thoughtful. Slowly, moving as if her joints were as stiff as his, she got to her feet. She waited, a question in her gaze as he stood. Kalsan held out his arm, inviting her back close against him. Her eyes sparkled as she tucked herself in under his arm and they fell into step together. Was that what she wanted, but didn't dare ask? It surprised him that she was so innocent in so many simple things. Then again, she would not be the Andrixine he admired and desired if she was like any other girl.
"Whore,” Feril growled, appearing from the shadows to block their path.
Kalsan felt battle-ready tension shove aside the sweet, relaxed softness of Andrixine's body in the curve of his arm. He hated that change, even as his own trained reflexes kicked in.
"You're mine. Father promised you to me. And I catch you sneaking around with this mercenary.” Feril gestured disdainfully at Kalsan with a long, gleaming sword.
Two dark shapes emerged from the shadows into the moonlight, revealing themselves as ruffians of the type who had kidnapped Lady Arriena. If there was any doubt of Feril being his father's son, it was erased now.
"You belong to me. Faxinor belongs to me. You're just as much a filthy Sendorland slut as your mother!"
Andrixine leaped and slapped Feril hard, making his head rock back on his shoulders. He stared for two heartbeats, his face white but for the blood-red handprint across his flabby cheek. His eyes were wide and bordered on filling with tears, like a nasty little boy who never expected a spanking.
Kalsan fought not to snicker. A tiny snort escaped anyway.
"You!” Feril staggered backwards, red fury wiping away the mark on his face. He raised his sword.
Andrixine gasped as a bright light burst into being, centered around her hand, and coalesced into the Spirit Sword.
Kalsan stepped forward, knowing the Spirit Sword would not appear unless her life was in danger. He drew his knife. She leaped to stand beside him, her left foot pressed against his right foot, as they had done during the ambush at the river. The blade burned in the shadowed clearing, providing more than enough light to fight by.
"Hold him!” Feril shrieked in a cracking voice. Five seconds had passed since Andrixine slapped him.
Waving his sword, he flung himself at Andrixine. She dodged him easily.
The other men lunged at Kalsan in tandem. He swung and leaped back, furious they had separated him from Andrixine so easily. He drove forward, praying they wouldn't realize how predictably they moved. They braced themselves before every swing, every lunge, giving him perfect warning to counter their attacks. They had swords, he had only a knife, and yet he knew the battle was with him. It had to be with him. His duty demanded he stand as Andrixine's shield. He had been preparing all his life for moments just like this, and he refused to fail.
Nothing could make him fail, with the taste of Andrixine's kisses still sweet in his mouth.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Feril advance on Andrixine, his mouth wide open in a hungry smile, his eyes bright. He heard the man snarl, the tone vicious, triumphant, taunting.
One man leaped in too close. Kalsan slashed down with his knife at the sword arm. The man screamed and dodged back, dropping his weapon. Kalsan snatched it up and lunged after him. The other man leaped to intercept, and their blades clashed.
Kalsan spared half his attention to defend himself and tried to follow Andrixine's battle. The cousins were a startling contrast: a heavy, lumbering body advancing on a slim, graceful form that danced away with sparkling ease.
The man attacking him, dark and thick like his master and smelling of sweat and ale, got too close. Kalsan slashed, aiming for his shoulder. The man ducked in at the wrong moment. He let out a squawk like a stuck pig and stumbled backwards amid a gush of crimson from his throat.
An answering roar blared from Feril's throat. The second ruffian stared, terrified. In that momentary reprieve, Kalsan saw Feril lunge at Andrixine, sword clutched in both hands, aiming for her belly. The Spirit Sword moved, trailing her arm like the tail of a comet. The sword blocked his swing with an upward arch. Feril's sword went flying. The Spirit Sword swung up and twisted in mid-air for half a heartbeat before plunging down, to plant itself deep in his chest. Andrixine pulled the sword free, her face pale, and stepped back as her hateful cousin crumpled to his knees.
Kalsan turned back to his opponent. The remaining man had vanished. Somewhere among the trees, a man shouted and weapons clashed. So, there was a soldier on patrol out there.
The Spirit Sword blazed bright. Blue flames writhed the length of the blade, erasing Feril's blood as Andrixine took a step toward Kalsan. She looked once at her dead cousin and shuddered.
"Kalsan?” she whispered. There was something pitiable in her voice.
He ran to her and wrapped her tight in his arms. Kalsan whispered her name over and over. Her flesh felt cold through her clothes, and she shivered.
Dark quiet returned to the clearing as the glow of the Spirit Sword faded. Andrixine clutched at him, and he prayed he never had to let her go.
"It's all right,” he whispered.
"Kalsan, I didn't want—"
"The sword chose you. The sword guides you.” He turned her and led her toward the stream with an idea of trying to wash the blood off their hands, maybe their clothes. Anything to wipe away the memory of what had happened. She moved as if she didn't know what her body did. “It protects you."
"Yes.” The single word was a cracked, gasping admission, full of pain. “But Feril was my cousin."
"Would you rather he had raped you, or killed you?"
"Or killed you?” she whispered. Some of the stricken look faded from her eyes.
Kalsan lost his breath a moment, realizing how much the danger to him affected her. What had he done to deserve that?
She said nothing while they knelt on a slab of rock, still warm from the afternoon sun, and washed the spots of blood from their hands.
"I never really hated him until now.” She settled down on the rock and dripped water on the larger bloodstains on her shirt. She sounded closer to her normal voice again. “He said he would rape me and make you watch, and then he'd kill us. I held the Spirit Sword in my hand, burning—he didn't even see it. Didn't care. He just wanted to kill.” She looked at the sword, which lay quiescent on the rock next to them, then pressed against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Kalsan held her, trying to share the warmth of his body to ease the shock she had to feel. No matter that Feril had been trying to kill her, he was her own flesh and blood. He remembered th
e first time he had killed, forced to it in self-defense. He stumbled into the forest and vomited, and then scrubbed his sword until he threatened its edge. Jultar had found him and sat with him, saying nothing, keeping him company until he regained his inner balance.
That wouldn't work with Andrixine. She would think and brood until she blamed herself for everything. He had to do something. Say something. He knew Brother Klee would arrive soon, having felt the Spirit Sword move to protect Andrixine. They were married, but silly as it was, he didn't want anyone to find them sitting here, wrapped around each other.
"I dreamed about you even before we met,” he offered.
"What?” She raised her head from his shoulder, blinking owlishly.
"I had dreams of a maiden with long, dark hair touched with flame and the loveliest, thin face. No one else attracted me since that first dream. And then I found out you were a maiden, and it was like Yomnian gave His approval. Perhaps He was warning me you waited for me, so I should be careful.” He chuckled, but she didn't join him. “Andrixine?"
"I dreamed of you, too.” She shook her head. “Even when I was still sick over what I saw them do to Cedes, I had dreams of a man—my husband. I felt nothing but joy. He had no face and yet when I think of those dreams, he has your face."
"I'm flattered, my lady."
"You should be.” Her teasing tone fell flat.
"Andrixine—"
"Fighting Feril, all I could think of was the danger to you. The thought of losing you hurts. Kalsan, please—"
"Not even death can keep me from you. I swear it. You are my holy mission, my duty and my reward. I will always be with you."
"You had better, or I will hunt you down no matter where you go."
Now she managed to smile, though crookedly. Now he could get her to leave the clearing.
Jultar, Brother Klee and Lord Edrix headed the search party that found them halfway back to the castle. They had already met up with the soldier just bringing his prisoner in. Kalsan wanted to laugh at their astonishment, but feared the sound would be harsh and unnaturally loud.
It took only moments to exchange stories, how they had defended themselves and how Brother Klee had felt the sword move to meet Andrixine's need. Lord Edrix stared a moment when they confessed that they had stolen away to marry early—then burst out laughing loud enough to make the forest ring.
Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1] Page 20