My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "Myra!" Rosie called, coughing into her fist as smoke burned its way down her throat.

  "I...I can't close it off." The wolves were shrieking now in pain and fear, both slamming into trees and underbrush they'd no doubt set on fire. Twisting around fast, Rosie slammed her hand over Myra's flaming fingers. Heat singed her flesh, as if she foolishly touched a griddle, but when her sister's fist closed it vanished along with the flames.

  Alive but burned badly, the wolves yelped and scattered into the woods. If they were lucky, they'd find a river to leap into. And why do you care about mangy wolves that were about to kill you? When your sister and her need to show off nearly...

  Rosie twisted to Myra, about to berate her for letting the spell get out of hand, when she spotted fear rising in her eyes. She didn't mean for it to happen. It was an accident, just like at the party. "My..." Rosie moved to wrap a hand around her to calm her down, when she heard a new growl. Louder, deeper, and moving at top speed.

  This wolf was white as a ghost, its paws barely treading through the ground as it lopped into a run right at the two that tried to kill its pack. Rosie spun from Myra who was struggling to find a spell, but there wasn't time. She could barely think save stepping in the way of her younger sister.

  Ice blue eyes glared murder at Rosie, the wolf's lips ripped back to reveal fangs about to plunge into her neck or stomach. It was huge...the wolf easily 200 pounds and longer than Rosie herself. She had no hope, and no chance. Sensing the blood in the air, the wolf leapt off its paws, jaws extended to sink right into her flesh while its body would crush both girls under it.

  Her hand lashed out, the knife jamming upwards just as the wolf was about to bite down. It slipped up through the mouth, teeth scraping against Rosie's wrist as the blade, guided by the wolf's body, impaled itself through the skull and struck right through its brain.

  A scream ripped out of her throat, her arm throbbing in pain as the wolf's body crashed into both her and Myra. Without anything to brace them, they both smashed into the ground under two hundred pounds of white fur and bone. Dear sweet Maker! Her back cried out as it bounced into Myra's bony body. Oh no. What if she crushed her sister?

  "Myra?"

  "Still alive," she gasped. "You?"

  "Yes," Rosie laughed, her arm literally down the throat of a wolf. A dead wolf whose hot blood was scorching out of the knife wound and down her wrist and forearm. Very alive, and slowly being crushed. "Trapped a bit, but the creature's dead."

  "This is a bit?" Myra groaned. Rosie could feel her sister trying to push from inside her prison. "You have to shove it off, Rossie. I can't. I can't get you off me."

  Okay. She could do this. Or she'd die under a wolf's carcass. Rosie tried to yank her knife out, but it was stuck inside the skull. Abandoning it for later, or someone else to retrieve, she placed both her hands upon the wolf's still chest and began to shove. Its own blood stained the snow white fur, and as foolish as it was, she felt a tear rising in her eyes at such a beautiful animal being ended.

  Not the time, Rosamund. Get out, then mourn. "Ah! Come on. Come on. Come on!" she cried, twisting the bones and warm fur with everything inside of her. It barely budged, the dead head flopping onto her chest, its bloated tongue lolling close to her cheek.

  "I can't," she gasped. She wasn't the warrior in the family, she played at it. Little Rosie and her little sword, running around pretending she could take on an army but she knew the truth. Her parents kept her out of any real combat because she...she was terrible at it. She was too short, too slow, too bottom heavy, too...

  "What the shit are you talking about?" Myra shouted, mercifully still breathing even with her sister compressing her lungs. Don't stop. Maker, her father would end her if they lost Myra. "You so can."

  "No, I'm not--" tears burned in her eyes.

  "Yes, you are. Whatever this are is. Wolf wrangler. For shit's sake, you kicked that Lord Eldon's ass and made it look like you were barely even fighting."

  "That was..."

  "It's not different. You get mad, you get scary, same as the rest of us. So get scary!"

  It was a foolish peptalk, but Rosie did as told. She thought of all the people who talked above her, who treated her like pretty furniture, who...walked out on her and left her heart crumpled in the dirt. A feral roar erupted out of Rosamund's throat, her fingers digging into the meat and fur of the wolf as she shoved with every muscle in her body. It lifted a bit, allowing Rosie to fill her lungs before the damn thing finally slid straight off of them and onto the ground beside.

  "Ah, ha ha ha!" Rosie laughed, jabbing a finger at the wolf, "I did it. I conquered you."

  "That's great, now..."

  "Oh, right," she tumbled off of her sister who looked rather flattened. "Myra are you--?" Rosie reached over to try and help her, when Myra sat straight up.

  A great laugh rumbled in her chest as she drew her hands back through her hair. There was a little shake at the end of her fingers, while Rosie's heart was beating so fast she feared it might explode. "Damn, Ros, that's..." she looked over at the wolf and whistled, "you did that. Ain't no one gonna mess with you when they see that. Ooh, you should call yourself the Wolf Queen. Maybe make a crown out of its head. Or a cape."

  "My..." Rosie waved a hand through the air and took in a deep breath, "I'm just glad we're both alive, and I'd really like to throw up now."

  "Bushes are over there," Myra laughed, jabbing towards them.

  She wasn't kidding, her stomach churning at the thought of how close she skidded towards death. But instead of giving in, Rosie got to her feet and offered a hand to Myra. As the two of them stood, Rosie reached over to give her sister a pat on the back.

  But Myra surprised her. Not caring about awkwardness or their strange family ties, Myra wrapped her arms fully around her sister in a great hug. It stilled Rosie's heart a moment, her forehead meeting against her tall sister's shoulder while they thanked the Maker and each other for surviving.

  "Maforath's spotted pecker!" a voice called from behind them. Rosie wiped off her tears and moved to look at whatever soldier found them, only to have her jaw hit the ground.

  Anjali stood there, her eyes wide as she stared in shock at the dead white wolf, before they whipped back to Rosie. Not caring that she walked away, or what she did to her, the assassin ran over and began to babble, "Are you hurt? There's blood. Maker's sake, I...I ran as fast as I could, but..." Her fingers curled up Rosie's gore caked hand, slathering it in love, almost as if they didn't want to leave.

  But she did.

  Rosamund ripped her arm away from hers and glared, "What are you doing here?"

  "I saw the fireball and feared that...I knew she'd be here," Anjali jabbed a finger at Myra who had both her hands digging into Rosie's shoulders. "But you were here and if..."

  "That doesn't seem to jibe with what you said earlier. I thought you had no more use for me," Rosie glared at the woman while she felt it in her heart. The part terrified that she would die in this glen wanted to curl up in Anjali's arms and babble incessantly about how grateful she was to see her. The princess refused to bend.

  "I never..." Anjali froze a moment, her fingers twisting around her daggers as if to help her think.

  "You left her!" Myra spat out, suddenly jabbing right at the assassin. Anjali glared, her lip rising but there was no denying the truth. "Make stupid faces all you want, I don't care. I won't let you hurt my sister again."

  "Again? It wasn't supposed to be..." the woman broke down, her head collapsing to her chest.

  Rosie tried to take command of the situation, her voice cooling as she eyed up her ex-lover, "What are you even doing here? I thought you were going to track down your friend alone?"

  "I...I thought about it, then I realized--"

  "You had no idea where she was," Rosie filled in, but Anjali's tear filled eyes snapped up to hers causing the princess to gasp in shock.

  "That I couldn't stand the idea of you being in pain, in danger,
or worse. What if she...? She could pull some trap and you'd be caught in it, and...and I couldn't live with myself."

  "Have you been following us the whole time?" Rosie cried, her fingers digging tight into her palms. For once she wanted to hit something as much as Myra did. All this time she mourned silently to herself, while Anjali was just off in the distance watching like some demented ghost.

  "What in the ever-loving void is wrong with you?" Myra spoke up for her. "You don't dump someone then follow 'em around. That's what creepy stalkers do. Who I help put down."

  "I bet you do, flint strike," her eyes hunted over Myra who took to the nickname about as well as Gavin did.

  Rosie didn't need this. She could let her sister have a crack at Anjali, no doubt it'd end about as well as the squire fighting her did. But it wouldn't solve the problem. "Myra," she turned to her sister who was snarling more than the wolves, "Let me handle this."

  "I ain't leaving."

  "Just...give me a few minutes with her? Please?" Rosie begged, her hands clasped together.

  Her sister grimaced at the look and sighed, "Okay, but just a few, and I'm going to stand right here ready to fireball her at the first word."

  "Thank you," Rosamund said, while mentally praying it didn't come to that. She didn't touch Anjali's arm but walked away from her sister and the dead wolf.

  By the time she reached beyond Myra's hearing, Anjali whispered, "You won't really let her set me on fire, will you?"

  "No," Rosie shook her head, "she's more likely to catch the forest in doing so." The assassin didn't laugh at her joke, probably because it wasn't one. "Why? Why leave? Why make it such a huge issue about how only you can stop Tenna? How you're the only one to put an end to her dastardly plans? Only to wind up hanging around on the edges of our caravan?"

  She expected a smart ass remark, probably due to her life around her father and Myra, but Anjali folded in on herself. From the moment they met, she'd been larger than life. Always right on the edge of Rosie's vision, not in a creepy slinking way but a comforting sort. The woman seemed unbreakable, but she crumbled now right at Rosie's feet.

  "When I abandoned my mother's place for me in this world, I turned my back on everything that life entailed... My family, my friends, my own village."

  "You can't return?" she gasped.

  Anjali simply shrugged as if she made peace with it long ago. "It happens. A life without boundaries, I belonged to no one and no one belonged to me. I thought in Tenna I found a similar soul. She couldn't return home either and she was less than pleased with her mother."

  "Wishing her dead certainly counts," Rosie mused to herself.

  "I didn't think it was... No, I suppose there were times when I was sporting bloody blisters in my shoes and hungry from a lack of work that I spoke of killing my own as well. Desperation can choke out empathy rather quickly."

  "Why are you telling me this?" she glanced over at Myra who was prodding her stick into the dead wolf.

  Anjali breathed in deep, her fingers wrapped around herself in comfort, "Because I was wrong. Tenna is a dark mirror of what I could become. I'm tired. Tired of running from town to town, job to job, hoping that somewhere I'll find a distraction long enough to hold my attention. A moment here or there to make life worth waking up for."

  Swallowing the heart spun words, Rosie shifted in her stance, subconsciously mimicking Anjali's pose as if she was about to embrace her dangling hands. The assassin pawed at her cheek and sighed, "I've done a lot of bad, I know it. I...will own it when pressed," her head lifted and Rosie started to find tears dripping out of those umber eyes, "but I couldn't let you get hurt. I couldn't bear the thought of you...of you chipping a nail much less, for the love of our Lady, what were you doing out here near a nest of blight wolves?"

  Rosie blinked in surprise at the sudden change in venom as if Anjali transformed into her personal spirit guardian, "We didn't know..."

  Anjali threw her hands up in the air and spun around in anger, "What's the point of having knights if they can't even suss out a blighted wolf pack running around? Hm? And," her anger faded in an instant to pure sympathy, "your arm." She reached towards Rosie's blood soaked one and she let her lift it. "Your beautiful arm with those stark blue veins."

  "It's not so bad, most of it's the wolf's," Rosie tried to explain turning towards the dead creature, but Anjali wouldn't stop stroking her fingers up and down the blood encrusted skin. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she was already blaming herself for not being close enough to stop it.

  "Why are you really here?" Rosie whispered, her eyes honing in on Anjali's that kept staring at Rosie's barely scraped skin.

  "As I said, if Tenna hurts..." the assassin began before she lifted her gaze and fell mere inches into Rosie's.

  "No," Rosie flexed her fingers in Anjali's grip, causing the caked on blood to splinter and flake. With her clean hand, she drew them towards the back of Anjali's head, "Why are you here?"

  "I can't leave you," Anjali gasped, her lips trembling as the words fell free, "I tried and..."

  Tugging into the nape of her neck, Rosie plunged those plump lips onto hers. They fluttered a moment, tears still tumbling inside of them, but as the kiss lengthened Anjali melted into the woman she knew. The woman she wanted to trust again. Lapping along Anjali's bottom lip, Rosie pressed another kiss -- more succulent than before -- to her salty mouth. She'd been sweating in the run to save her life, or crying at the thought of failing.

  "You did, and it hurt me," Rosie said, their foreheads brushing tight to each other. "More than I thought possible."

  "I can't ask you to forgive..." Anjali whispered, her eyes shut tight while her tongue licked against the lips Rosie drank from.

  "You can try, Anjali," she curled both her hands against her cheeks, the crimson of the wolf's blood matching against the scarlet tattoo. "Stop running from your problems. Stay with me, help me."

  "Be with you?" she asked, her eyes filling with hope.

  The answer caught in her throat. With their bodies pressed together, an image Rosie never thought would happen again, she wanted to shout yes. But she remembered the pain of Anjali walking away. She wouldn't change overnight, she'd still be startled by the smallest setback and want to run. It'd take years for her to find the bones to settle down somewhere safe and build a home.

  It would be smart for her to cut Anjali out of her life now. To let her return home, or go back to her days of flitting from job to job. For whatever reason, Rosie turned back to Myra and her sister's advice flashed in her mind. She risked it once, what was once more?

  "Give me time," she answered. "I have to trust before I can..."

  "Earning a beautiful princess' trust," Anjali tried to smile through her tears, "I'm not even certain how I managed it once. But I will try, for you, Sapheela."

  She wanted to kiss her again, but Rosie stepped back. Time would require a cooler head, and sex would only mess with it, convince her to fall deeper than she should. Wiping a hand over her forehead, Rosie paused at the sight of the dried blood still stuck to her skin. "We should return to camp," she ordered to Myra who hopped to her feet.

  "We ain't leaving this thing, are we? Be a waste of a good pelt, and meat, and an awesome crown. Come on, you know you want to," she darted back and forth on her feet in excitement at the image. As if the rest of thedas didn't already think of Ferelden as barbarians, imagine the titters if their princess began to wear a wolf's head upon hers.

  Anjali walked closer to the wolf, causing Myra to narrow her eyes, but she didn't attack. "Nothing?" Anjali laughed.

  "I knew Rosie'd take you back, she's a soft touch like that. But you do it again and..." Myra didn't raise fire on her fingers, but jabbed to the dead great wolf.

  "Noted," Anjali muttered. She bent over and lifted apart the wolf's jaws. Reaching deep in with her own arm, she gave a great grunt and extracted the knife Rosie embedded into its skull. "Here," she tossed it to the princess who barely caught the bloody blade. "Adds
to the story if they see how tiny your weapon was to take down the beast."

  Myra cracked up a moment, her laugh splitting the trees. "But not if you're a boy, eh? Tiny weapon, cause... Oh come on, it's funny. Don't glare at me, Rossie, it's funny."

  "As you say, sister," Rosie smiled, barely able to suppress the laugh Myra was digging for. "If you wish to keep the wolf, how do we get it out of here?"

  "We could carry it together?" Anjali threw out, staring at the massive thing, its gnashing teeth and stabbing claws all dangling at the ready to swipe apart skin. Rosie sighed at the idea but it seemed to be all they had.

  It was Myra who popped up and groaned, "You're both daft. There's an entire caravan of boys whose job is to carry shit. I'm gonna go get them to help."

  That...made sense. Rosie turned to Anjali who shrugged, seemingly impressed at the logic in Myra's words. Her sister began to run out of the clearing to their camp when she suddenly shouted, "And try to refrain from snogging 'cause I don't know who all will be coming with me!"

  Rosie's cheeks turned beet red at the thought, her eyes darting over to Anjali who had a soft smile on her lips. They didn't kiss, the princess serious about taking it slow, but Rosie let her fingers slip into Anjali's for the duration of their time alone with a snow white wolf.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Bring Him Home

  A deafening silence stampeded down the caravan as they rolled up to the entrance into the dwarven kingdom. From a mile back, the deep scar into the earth was evident, near on fifty acres of ground shattering into the deep roads. Pillars and statues rose out of the depths, heads leering just above the edge as if the dwarven paragons were bobbing in a pool. Circling all around their claim was a wall already ten feet tall and, knowing dwarves, likely to get larger and more indestructible the longer they were on the surface.