“Go on.”
“And the goblins gave him one. I have the benefit of hindsight, of course.” I nodded. “But my best chance – my only chance – to escape was during that battle. I’d told Garai I liked to read, and I was a perfect pain in the ass until he brought me books. Then I told him I couldn’t see to read them, so he had his guards light the candles in the chandelier that hung over my bed in the evenings. The candles never burnt for long – an hour or two at the most – but that fire was the only weapon I had available to me.”
I glanced up at Magnus. He was listening with rapt attention. “Garai made sure I couldn’t reach the candles. The guards would haul the chandelier nearly to the ceiling by the chain after they lit them, then they pulled it through a thick iron loop in the wall and locked it with three or four padlocks. I would stare up at those lit candles for the entire time I was supposed to be reading, wondering how I could get them down. And if I did, would I have the time to start a roaring fire and escape?” I laced my fingers together. “I was terrified.”
“The battle with the goblins bought you time?”
“Oh, yes. Enough. It turns out I was viewing things all wrong. I’d been concentrating on a way to get the burning candles down to me.” I gave a short laugh.
Magnus smiled. “And you worked until you found a way to get yourself up to them.”
“That’s right. I stacked two night tables on my bed and climbed atop them. Gods, they were so unstable and wobbly, I nearly fell off a couple of times, but desperation is a powerful thing. I took the four candles down one by one and set the drapes on fire first. When I had a respectable blaze going, I dragged the drapes across the room to the wooden door and laid them along the threshold, so the air would feed the flames. I then dismantled a loose post from the bed and used it as a battering ram. I kept pounding and banging while the door burned, and I got so damned tired.” I stared up at the hardwood beams overhead. “The door finally burst outward, and it’s a good thing, as the room had filled with smoke by then. I covered my face with one of the tiebacks from the drapes and ran. I don’t know how my feet weren’t burnt running through those flames. I didn’t see anyone, so I just kept going, one door after another, until I was outside. Near the back gate. I opened it and ran until I collapsed. I knew about the caves near Jalartha, so I headed in that direction once I recovered enough to walk.”
“Weren’t you afraid Tariq would find you?”
“I was terrified, but I had nowhere else to go. I stayed hidden, gathering food from the forest in the dark if I could. Fairly difficult with a butchered hand. I bartered the surplus to passing peddlers for knives, clothing, and other goods. I‘d amassed quite a store of weapons and things, but they robbed me. Those men. More than once. That’s what they really wanted.” I shrugged. “I suppose all my things are gone now. Not that the weapons would’ve been useful, with my fighting hand like this.”
Magnus leaned forward and hung his head. He stayed like that for the longest time. When he finally lifted his gaze to mine, tears had filled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kymber. I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry for me. That ten years has been lost, but…will you stay with me?”
Eight years of pain and two of living hand-to-mouth in a cave had encased my heart in solid ice, but it thawed a bit when I saw his tears.
Magnus. Once my friend, my lover, my everything. Funny how my hatred for him had kept me afloat in a sea of despair. To find out that he was innocent felt like a fist in my gut. Magnus hadn’t betrayed me, but I didn’t know what to do with the anger I still felt.
“I’m a cripple now,” I said. “I just thought I’d point that out.”
“You’re not a cripple,” he said. “You have two hands.”
“I’m of no use to anyone anymore. You should take me back to the caves.”
Magnus surprised me by pulling me to my feet and holding me so tightly I couldn’t draw a breath to object.
I used to have the most agonizing circular arguments with myself in Pentorus. I was sure Magnus would reconsider what he’d done and come looking for me. I didn’t think the words of love and commitment we’d spoken to one another were a lie, even if he did have a wife.
He never came for me though, and I hated him even more for it. Wishes and anger, hope and disappointment, over and over again. I nearly went insane. Now I knew the truth. He hadn’t come for me because he thought I was dead.
“Will you stay with me?” he whispered again.
I could hear it in his voice. We’d had it all and lost it. Did he hope to rekindle our love? Was he was the same man I remembered?
Good question. I certainly was not the same woman. If he knew half the things I’d done just to see another sunrise, he would’ve helped Cort cut my throat instead of rescuing me. “I don’t know. I have nightmares. I can’t stop being afraid. You deserve better.”
His hands circled my back. “I know what I deserve. I can handle your nightmares. Your fears need to fear me.”
“Magnus, you don’t understand. I don’t think I can promise you a second chance. I don’t know if I can promise you anything. I live day to day and . . .”
“Hush, woman.” He slid one hand up my neck and whispered in my ear. “Where is Silverlight? Where is your sword?”
“Hanging behind Garai’s throne. He said it was a prized trophy.”
“Do you want it back?”
A shiver slipped down my spine. “I can’t . . . I can’t think of how we’d ever get it.”
I didn’t say it, but I thought it: “I’m not willing to go into Pentorus for it.”
“We’ll take it back together.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “We were two of the most feared swords in Calari once. We will be again.”
“Have you taken a good look at my sword hand? I can’t fight anymore.”
Magnus stared at me, his eyes hard and dark as stone. “You will. We have a score to settle with my brother and Garai. It’ll take time to train you again – you’re terribly scrawny – but in the end, they’ll both be given only one choice.”
“What choice would that be?”
“A trip to the grave via Silverlight or Bloodreign.”
I took a deep breath and eyed the spittoon. He sounded so sure, but the thought of going back to that awful place to get Silverlight made me physically ill.
“Stay with me, Kymber.” He pressed his lips against my neck. “Please.”
Stay with him. Where? And what choice did I truly have? I knew going back to the caves was dangerous, but I’d thought to give him an out. “I’ll stay with you, Magnus, though I think the road we’ll travel together will be long and hard.”
He kissed my forehead. “Not as long and hard as the road I traveled without you.”
Despite sharing a heartfelt embrace, spending the night in the same room with Magnus was awkward and frightening. I didn’t want him that close to me until I sorted things out in my head.
Thankfully, he didn’t push. He offered me the bed, but I declined, choosing to sleep sitting upright in the corner instead.
“I’ll find another room,” Magnus said, turning away. “You’re hurt. You should sleep on the bed.”
“Don’t leave!”
He started at my forceful command, staring at me with wide eyes.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Well. All right, but at least take the pillow and quilt.” He held them out to me.
I took them, grateful for his kindness, though I don’t think either of us slept very much.
Mingled with fear and doubt was a profound sense of relief. I wasn’t alone anymore. Magnus Tyrix had reclaimed me from the dead.
4: MAGNUS
It was slow going at first, but with a little encouragement, Kymber’s health began to improve. She still complained of dizziness, nausea, and the occasional crushing headache, but the day came when she finally felt well enough to travel.
That decision was hers. I would’ve stayed at the inn forever if that were
what she needed to heal. I wasn’t worried about Seacrest, my estate back in Adamar. My people took good care of it in my absence.
The subtle nuances of romance had always escaped me, much to Kymber’s chagrin, but I cossetted this new life with her as one would cup their hands around a newborn flame. Every morning, I sang to her as I washed her face and hands, then made her sit on the bed and brushed what was left of her hair.
I helped her into the clothing Amori provided – tunics and leggings left behind by the inn’s patrons. Kymber fussed, reluctant to stand naked before me, but I fussed right back, reminding her that she still listed like a drunk every time she got to her feet. We usually ended up laughing, though a few tears were shed as well.
We left the inn eight weeks after Kymber opened her eyes and socked me in the jaw. That stuffy room had become a prison for both of us, I think. In any case, it was delightful to watch the sun rise and breathe in the crisp morning air.
Migs and Amori Grok, kindhearted souls if ever there were any, stood wailing like infants, clutching soggy kerchiefs in tight fists as we turned to wave goodbye.
I seated Kymber behind me on Fitz, savoring the feel of her hands on my hips as we rode. She was quiet, but she didn’t seem especially fearful. More than once, I wondered what the future held for us.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Adamar. I moved there eight years ago.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I thought living near the ocean might do me good. Jalartha held too many memories.”
“I see.” She was silent for a moment. “Of me?”
“Of you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you in that grave. We hadn’t even been given a chance to say goodbye.” Agony caught me right in the chest. “I was slowly going insane, so I packed up and left.”
“While I was slowly going insane in Pentorus.” She sighed. “What a pair we are.”
“I am so sorry, Kymber. I haven’t…”
“Done anything wrong. Neither one of us is to blame for what happened to me.”
“I’m angry. For both of us. We might’ve had children…”
“Don’t say that. I thought of all the things I’d never get to do or see or be for the first four years of my captivity. I was sure I’d burst into tiny pieces from the anger I felt. I knew my situation was hopeless. Up and down, back and forth. There was no end to it. I finally talked myself into an uneasy peace. If I think about what I’ve lost, I’ll never be able to go forward.”
“It’s not too late for children. You’d be twenty-eight. I’m a young thirty-two.” I smiled at her, only half-joking.
She stiffened and withdrew her hands from my waist. “You don’t know me anymore. You have no idea what I’m like.”
I had enough patience and love for both of us. I could wait.
The trip to my seaside home in Adamar should’ve taken us right past the small village of Pitka, but Kymber needed suitable clothing. Pitka, populated by artisans and crafters, was an excellent place to procure them.
“Why are we stopping here?” she asked as I dismounted and reached up for her. Her gaze darted nervously over the crowd milling about on the street.
“You’ll need some clothes of your own. Tula the seamstress lives here.”
Her eyes widened. “Tula is still alive?”
“Yes. And lucky for you she’s still sewing. She continues to make garments for lady warriors.” I took her by the hand. “Come.”
She pulled back. “But I have no coin to pay her.”
“I do. Come.”
Though it was sweltering outside, Tula’s shop was surprisingly cool. Brightly colored garments made from linen, cotton, and velvet hung from the shop’s terra cotta brick walls. Small tables piled high with neatly folded shirts, leggings, and harem pants stood in regimental rows from one wall to the other. If Kymber couldn’t find something in Tula’s shop that pleased her, she simply wasn’t looking.
“Her garments are so beautiful. It was easy to fight in the pants she made for me. A girl could kick a man in the face and never tear a stitch, nor lose her dignity by showing her most private self to others.” Kymber laughed as she ran her hands over a pair of blue velvet harem pants that buttoned at the ankles.
I thought I saw a happy spark in her eyes, which is what I’d hoped for. The first order of business was to help Kymber recover a sense of self. Of what she’d been. Yes, but it had to be done in small steps. Familiar clothing – clothing that was hers – came first. A safe and peaceful place to live came second.
A thorough examination of that maimed right hand came third.
Tula glided out of the back room. She wore a turquoise and bright pink sari, her arms open wide. “Magnus, my sweet. How happy I am to see you again.” I got a surprisingly strong hug and a very wet kiss on the lips from the diminutive gray-haired woman. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”
I folded Tula into my arms, just as happy to see her. She brought back memories of a time when life was good. “I live in Adamar now. Seaside.”
“Lucky you. Are you married? How many children have you sired?” Tula poked me in the abdomen. “I’ve always said it’s a fortunate woman who shares your bed, Magnus Tyrix. If I were but thirty years younger . . .” She pinched my cheek and laughed.
“No wife or children yet.” I felt my face flush. “I brought someone with me though. Someone you may remember.” I spun Tula around to face Kymber.
The seamstress stiffened for a moment then put a shaky hand to her mouth. “No. It’s not possible. Is this . . . Kymber Oryx?”
“It’s me, Tula.” Kymber stood frozen between the tables, her chest heaving.
“You were supposed to be dead, child.”
Kymber shook her head and smiled a sad little smile. “I’m not dead.”
Tula turned a questioning gaze to me. I bent to whisper in her ear. “It’s a tale for another time. I’m taking her back to Adamar with me. She needs clothing. At least five or six outfits of the type she used to wear at the academy. Can you help us?”
“Of course.” Tula clapped her hands, trilling like a songbird. “I loved sewing for you, little one. You wore everything so well. The drape of my clothing upon your body was flawless. Come with me.” She turned and motioned for us to follow her into the back room.
“Thank you, Magnus.” Kymber gave me the brightest smile I’d seen so far. “This is wonderful.”
You have no idea, I thought as I followed, my heart soaring.
An hour later, Kymber stood before me in black linen harem pants and a tightly laced sleeveless jerkin of purple velvet with gold-and-blue stars embroidered upon it.
“Stunning,” was all I could say.
Tula had even taken the time to wash and trim Kymber’s hair. Still barely two inches long, it now lay in smooth, even lines.
A crooked grin crossed Kymber’s face, her eyes alight with pleasure. It nearly brought tears to my eyes. The filthy, frightened stray cat was gone.
“Do you think so?” Kymber ran her left hand over her abdomen. “Gods, I never dreamed I’d wear anything like this again. I feel like I could conquer the world.”
“You will.” I caught her up in my arms and spun her around Tula’s shop. “And I will help you.”
I swear I saw stars flare to life in her bright blue eyes.
We stopped to make camp just as the sun was sinking blood red beyond the mountains. I made a fire for Kymber then left to hunt for our meal.
It took me longer than I expected. Just one small wild boar later, I stood before the fire.
I found Kymber sitting between three men who were passing a bottle of wine between them. She sat stiffly, shoulders forward, gaze down so as not to antagonize.
Gesturing wildly, the men spoke in a language I recognized as Torithinese. At least they were dressed in the garb of those tribesman: long, flowing robes of scarlet and black silk scarves tied abo
ut their heads and left to drape behind them.
Kymber lost all color when she saw me. I dropped the boar near the fire and addressed the men in their own language: “Is it possible I could help you with something?”
A tall, wiry man with dark eyes rose and threw me a hostile smile. “We will share your fire tonight. And now we see you have brought food. We will share that as well.” He took a menacing step forward. “Then we will share your woman.”
Over my dead body. I shifted my attention to Kymber. “Did they hurt you?” I asked in our common tongue.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Did they touch you?”
“Yes, but not… They didn’t…”
I raised my hand to silence her and smiled coldly at the man. “I would be glad to share my fire and my food, but not the woman. She belongs to me.” The Torithin understood ownership and possession, whether it was horses or humans.
The two remaining tribesmen leapt to their feet, pulling Kymber up with them. The man I’d spoken with pulled a wickedly curved scimitar. “Then I will take her from you, and she will belong to me.”
“The woman is not negotiable. She is mine.” I slid Bloodreign from the sheath across my back and assumed a stance. “Try to take her and I will kill you.”
Kymber may not have understood their language, but she understood my intent. The moment they released her to pull weapons, she twisted free and ran.
I immediately brought my sword to life, swirling and slashing. Soon the sand beneath my feet was soaked with blood.
Several heart-stopping moments later, I found Kymber on the ground near a large rock, crying her heart out. I knelt near her. “You’re safe now.”
“Don’t you understand?” Teeth clenched, she glared at me. “I will never be safe. Men . . . want to . . . they want to take what should be a woman’s to give. Brutish beasts who can do nothing more than–”
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