FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  I lifted my head and slowly shifted my body toward his, every movement a little easier than the one before it. I thought I might cry. Instead, I leaned in and kissed him, brushing my lips gently over his, then pressing harder, not wanting to let go.

  His eyes snapped open.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” I whispered. “What took you so long?”

  Chapter XLIX

  Aren

  “ROWAN?”

  SHE KISSED ME AGAIN, and laughed. She was back, no question—bright eyes, mischievous grin, and looking like she’d just wakened from nothing more than an incredibly restful nap.

  I looked past her at the door that separated her room from Albion’s, waiting for it to open, but nothing happened. He didn’t know she was awake, or he was giving us a little more time. Either way, I would take it.

  Rowan laid her head back down on the pillow, and I ran my fingers through her hair. She sighed and closed her eyes. I pulled my hand back, and her eyes blinked open. “Why did you stop?”

  “I didn’t want you falling asleep again.”

  She smiled. “For the first time in a long time, sleep is the last thing on my mind.” She touched my face again, brushing her thumb over my eyebrows, smoothing away the tension. “You look like you could use a little more, though.”

  “Probably. But not now.” Her hands were still cold, but felt so good touching me.

  “You can sleep,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I’d always thought heartache was a sentimental concept imagined by someone with no understanding of the human body and even less sense, but I was learning I’d been wrong. This hurt.

  “I want to ask where we are, and what happened,” she said, and traced her fingers over my face, pausing over the faint scar on my chin that magic had yet to heal completely. “But I need to say something first. Back at our camp—”

  “I’m sorry for all of that. For lying, for not trusting you to decide for yourself, trying to push you away. I—” I hesitated, searching for an excuse or a way to gloss it over, but there was none. “I was wrong.”

  Her face broke into a warm smile. Perhaps she understood how difficult those words were for me. “I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. “I said some horrible things. I was just so angry. But I do love you. And I was coming back.”

  “It’s okay to be angry.” I took her hand, and her fingers curled between mine. “Maybe not as often as I am, but sometimes. And I promise, no more lies. No more keeping information from you for your own good.”

  “And maybe we’ll try to be more understanding of each other when we get it wrong.” She turned to look around the room, taking in everything that the moonlight revealed.

  “Don’t let your curiosity kill you,” I said, and she laughed quietly.

  “Is this Belleisle?” she asked, and I nodded. “And they’re letting you stay?” She sounded cautious, as though she knew she wasn’t going to get what she wanted this time.

  “Well, for now. Just don’t talk too loudly. It’s temporary.” The door to Albion’s room opened wide enough to allow his fox face to peer into the room. “Never mind.”

  “What?” Rowan turned toward the door, still moving slowly, and gasped. She pushed herself up to sit with her back against the pillows and watched the fox slink into the room. He leaped onto the bed, landing so lightly that he seemed to be made of air, and sat with his enormous tail wrapped around his black-gloved paws, head tilted to one side, watching Rowan.

  He looked at me next. “Not yet, please,” I said, and he gave a little nod before turning back to Rowan.

  “Rowan,” I said, “may I introduce Ernis Albion. My grandfather.” She looked from him to me in surprise, then back. “He and his wife have been caring for you. If I’m not mistaken, you’re to stay here while you recover. Perhaps longer, if your magic returns.” The fox nodded again. “They’ll teach you how to use it properly.”

  “Oh,” she said, and held out one hand. The fox stepped closer and sniffed it. They looked into each other’s eyes, and I wondered whether he could read something in her that I couldn’t. He spun and bounced to the end of the bed, made a playful bow to us, and trotted out of the room.

  “What was that all about?” Rowan asked.

  “I was just about to tell you. I’m still not welcome here. I was able to stay as long as I might help bring you back, but no longer. You’re here now, which means my time is up.”

  Anger flashed across her features. “But that’s so unfair!” she whispered. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You saved my life.” She pulled herself closer to me and curled up with her face pressed to my chest.

  I traced circles on her back with my fingers, unsure how else to make her feel better. She didn’t move or speak, but I felt my shirt growing damp. I wondered whether she cried so much when I wasn’t around.

  “We make a good team, you know,” I said.

  “We do. So what am I supposed to do without you? I don’t even know these people.”

  “I might point out that you didn’t know me a few weeks ago, either. They’re good people, Rowan. This is my fault, not theirs. They have students here, and they don’t want my kind of influence around them. Or around you, I suppose.”

  I could tell she wanted to say something to that, but she seemed to change her mind and instead sat up and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightgown. “Is there no chance you can stay? Like with the merfolk?”

  I remembered the hate in Emalda’s eyes when she looked at me. “No. If there’s any way I can come back to see you, I will, but it’s better for everyone if Severn knows I’m not here. Especially for you. These past few weeks, though… they’ve been amazing, in spite of the crazy parts.”

  “The best.”

  It wasn’t long before the day’s first light glowed in the window, followed all too quickly by a bright, clear sunrise, and a knock at the door. Albion entered, followed by Emalda, who carried a tray loaded with breakfast foods, a towel-wrapped teapot, and several labeled glass jars filled with dried leaves, berries, roots, and scraps of bark.

  I stood and moved out of the way, and Emalda took over the space around the bed.

  She smiled at Rowan, a warm, kind expression I hadn’t seen on her before. “Hello, my dear,” she said. “Welcome back.”

  Rowan returned the smile, but she looked wary as her eyes searched Emalda’s. “Thank you. Aren tells me you’ve been taking excellent care of me.”

  Emalda’s smile tightened at the sound of my name, then relaxed. “Well, it seems he’s done well too, hasn’t he?”

  “I never would have found my way back without him.”

  “Is that so?” Emalda glanced back at me. “I’m very glad. We were beginning to think you were lost forever. Are you hungry?”

  Rowan’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear, and she grimaced. “I think I might be,” she said, and Albion carried the tray of food over to the bed.

  Emalda came toward me, her lips pressed together in a hard line.

  “She’s out of danger now,” she said quietly. “I’ll do some tests after she’s eaten, see what she needs to get her strength back. It seems to me that she’s empty of magic right now. It might not come back, you know.” She looked up and stared straight into my eyes, challenging me. “Does that change your feelings or intentions toward her?”

  “No. But it might change your son’s.”

  She raised an eyebrow, then glanced over her shoulder and saw Rowan watching us. “Might we speak in private?”

  Emalda started toward the other room, pausing at the bed to test the temperature of Rowan’s forehead. “Please eat. We’ll be back.”

  The room Albion had slept in was much smaller and more plainly decorated than Rowan’s, with a desk beside the narrow bed and a door opening into the hall. “Extra student room,” Emalda said, and gestured for me to sit in a hard-backed chair. She stood looking out the window. “We have a problem.”

  “I know, you need me to
go. If I could just stay until she’s comfortable here—”

  “Please don’t interrupt me.” She waved her hand toward the door. “The problem is this. Not her. She seems like a sweet girl, and we’re happy to help her. If what you’ve told Ernis about her is true, she’s the sort we’d take as a student under normal circumstances, though she would have started at a much younger age. She can work to pay her tuition, and I know Ernis will be interested to learn from her experiences. But she seems quite attached to you.”

  She drummed her fingers on the window sill. “Ernis and I spoke this morning when he came to tell me she was awake. He thinks that for now it would be best if you stayed. He says it’s for her, but I know he has a personal interest in your situation. He’s left the decision entirely to me.” She turned to face me straight-on. “Tell me, are you sorry for the things you’ve done?”

  It’s none of your business. “Yes.”

  “Were you sorry when these things happened, or only now that it matters to me, someone who has every intention of separating you from the only person who seems to be important to you? Though I doubt you care as much for her as she thinks you do.” Contempt dripped from her voice.

  I wasn’t going to open up to her or beg for forgiveness, and I certainly didn’t owe it to her to explain what Rowan meant to me. Still, I pushed my pride aside and answered as I had to.

  “I wasn’t sorry at the time, but I am now. For all of it.”

  Her lips tightened. “If only I could believe it. I can’t know for certain, can I? I lack your gifts.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing you say will bring my sister back, or any of the others.”

  She went to the door and looked in on Albion and Rowan, and her expression softened. “I’m doing this for him, not for you,” she said softly, and looked back over her shoulder at me. “You can stay. Not in this house, and not for long. If you want to be here, you’re going to work. Goodness knows there’s enough to be done around here, especially once the rest of the students return. You will have no unauthorized contact with the students, you will follow the rules as I give them, and you will not use any form of magic on any living creature on this island. I expect that if your presence becomes a threat to any of us—”

  “I’ll leave before that happens.” It took a moment for my mind to process her words. Had she really just said that I could stay? The strict conditions troubled me—not because I couldn’t follow them, but because they were obviously a way for Emalda to try to control me. I didn’t know how much of her contempt and disrespect I’d be able to take. I was already feeling the pressure of it. But still, I’d be with Rowan. My heart leapt at the thought.

  “I’ll accept your conditions.”

  She nodded and turned back to the other room. “I think it’s best for her that you be here for now, until she’s more comfortable and we know what her situation will be. I hope you understand that she’ll have some decisions to make that may be difficult for both of you.”

  I had already considered the fact that we’d been pushed together by extraordinary circumstances. It was possible that she wouldn’t see me the same way when our surroundings changed, that she’d see who I was more clearly, that she would realize that she didn’t need me. “I’ll stay for as long as she wants me, and as long as I’m permitted.”

  “I suppose that’s settled, then.”

  I followed Emalda back into Rowan’s room, light-headed with relief. Rowan sat in one of the soft chairs laughing at something Albion was saying. She stopped when she saw us.

  Emalda pursed her lips and busied herself with organizing the herbs on her tray. Rowan watched her, then turned to me. “Are you… I mean, can you…”

  “Yes. For now.” Rowan gasped and jumped up from her chair, almost falling over as she tried to run to me. She laughed when I caught her in my arms and pulled her close.

  “And none of that, miss,” Emalda said over her shoulder. “I’ll have no bad example set for the students, especially if you become one.”

  Rowan just grinned and held me tighter.

  Albion and Rowan exchanged a seemingly endless stream of questions as Emalda carried out her tests, which involved checking Rowan’s strength while she held different plants under her tongue, then having her taste different mixtures from the kitchen. Though the teas probably tasted terrible, I thought that this testing was vastly preferable to the merfolk’s experiments.

  I sat in the corner beside the window, joining in the conversation when invited, but staying silent most of the time. Emalda’s fists clenched every time I spoke, and it annoyed me.

  I felt as though I hadn’t slept at all. My eyes kept drifting closed, and my muscles ached as though they’d actually pulled me through a storm. My mind raced, though. The realization that we’d never be safe as long as Severn was alive began to overshadow my elation at being allowed to stay, and I started planning again.

  I wanted nothing more than for Albion and Emalda to leave so that I could be alone with Rowan and talk through my ideas with her—an exciting notion, now that I’d accepted it. But there was no chance. They held her attention all afternoon.

  In spite of her insistence that she’d never want to sleep again, Rowan grew tired and began yawning well before sunset. Emalda hurried through the last few tests and said she’d send someone up with enough supper for both of us. “But just for tonight,” she added as she hoisted her tray and left the room. “Then he’s out.”

  I moved to the sofa, and Rowan lay down and rested her head on my lap. Birds twittered in the branches outside of the open window, and a few younger students yelled as they played outdoors. Otherwise, all was quiet. I thought Rowan had fallen asleep, but she opened her eyes and took my hand, winding her fingers between mine and resting them on her stomach.

  “So what happens now?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “After the handsome prince wakes the girl. Isn’t that the end of the story? The happily ever after part?”

  It hardly seemed like it. She still had a lot of work ahead of her to get her magic back and learn how to use it. As for me…

  “I think life just goes on,” I said. “Severn is going to come for us. You might be his worst enemy, now.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I’ll stay while you get settled, but then I leave.” She winced, but had obviously been expecting this. “But I’m not going to run away from Severn this time. I’m going to destroy him.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “I think you’ll have work to do here. If your magic comes back, you’ll have to work hard to learn to use it. Ernis and Emalda will help you, but it’s not going to be easy.”

  “No, I suppose not. But if you’re going to need me to save your ass again some day, I might as well be prepared.” She smiled, but worry creased her brow.

  “Not the happy ending you were hoping for?”

  She shrugged. “There’s always more to the story, right?” She struggled to sit up, then pressed her lips to mine. I tangled my fingers in her wild hair and pulled her closer still, and for a brief moment felt the tiniest spark of her magic. She pulled back, rested her forehead against mine, and sighed. “We can have happily ever after later.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  I didn’t believe it, but I wanted to.

  The story continues in… Torn, Book Two of the Bound Trilogy

  Available March 2015

  Afterword

  KATE SPARKES IS THE AUTHOR of the Bound Trilogy (Mature YA Fantasy) and a forthcoming Urban Fantasy novella series. She lives in Newfoundland, Canada, and gets her best ideas while walking beside the ocean.

  For information on new releases, sign up for Kate’s mailing list here: http://mad.ly/signups/96420/join

  Like her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/katesparkesauthor

  Follow on Twitter: @kate_sparkes

  For more information on current and upcoming releases from Sparrowcat press, visit the blog:

 
www.sparrowcatpress.com

  …or join Kate at her personal blog for fun with writing, reading, travel and just about everything else at

  www.disregardtheprologue.com

  To hear about future bundles from Novel Bundles Services sign up to: smarturl.it/novelbundle

  THE PARIAHS

  David Adams

  Prologue

  Kozog

  THE SHADOWLANDS

  ONE YEAR BEFORE the destruction of Atikala

  and the events of Ren of Atikala

  The Army of the Open Fist marched on Irondarrow Keep, thousands of booted feet pounding their way to reinforce the assault on the fortified dwarven stronghold. Druids and wizards handled the more serious threats; management of the rank and file was left in the hands of the junior members and sellswords.

  Sellswords such as Kozog the half-orc, and his battle comrade, Brea Fleethand the half-elf.

  Through blood, smoke, and the scoured ruin of the Shadowlands, he and the Open Fist had fought their way to a day’s journey away from Irondarrow’s gates. They faced fiends, cultists, and the stitched-together horrors wrought by dwarven hands. Kozog’s spear and Brea’s rapier had put down scores of foes during the journey, and now at the edge of the Shadowlands, with their tents unpacked, their equipment readied for the next day’s march, and all manner of preparations made, the two of them had earned a moment of quiet reflection beyond the edges of their camp.

  Tomorrow the real war would begin, but tonight was their own.

  “The Shadowlands has a subtle beauty to it,” said Kozog, folding his dark green hands behind his head as he lay on the ground, staring up at the night sky. The stars seemed to twinkle less in these lands, afraid that—should they draw attention to themselves—they too would be swallowed by the barren landscape and snuffed out forever. “I hadn’t really noticed it before now.”