by Jasmine Walt
Unfortunately, they could not keep up their breakneck pace forever. The warhorse’s wounds began to get the better of him, and he slowed to a stop, his sides foaming with sweat.
“I don’t think Midnight can hold out much longer with both of us on his back,” Calrain said, stroking the side of the sweaty horse’s neck. “Do you think you could heal him, Tariel?”
Tariel bit her lip. “I will try,” she said, eyeing the wound. Collapsing the bridge had cost her a great deal of strength—it had taken her quite a while to loosen all the planks and then hold them long enough for Calrain and Riann to cross. Exhaustion fogged her mind, but if she did not heal the horse, they would be stranded. Sir Jerrold had not been among the men who had fallen into the river—he had stopped just in time, his instincts likely warning him of what she had planned.
He was a formidable opponent, and Tariel would not underestimate his ability to track them again.
The three of them found a patch of forest and hid in the trees before dismounting. Midnight let out a sound that seemed a mingling of pain and relief, and Riann groaned as he hobbled away on one leg, his arm thrown over Calrain’s shoulder.
“Oh, your poor leg,” Tariel exclaimed as Calrain set Riann down on his side. She winced at the sight of the arrow protruding from his calf; it had broken in half at some point during their flight. “We need to get that out of your leg.”
Riann shook his head. “Heal the horse first,” he said. “My leg can wait. We can’t afford to lose him.”
Nodding, Tariel approached the great black steed. He whinnied nervously, sidestepping, but she managed to place her hand on his back and send a tiny wave of calming magic through him. Instantly, the horse stopped moving, and she gently coaxed him to the ground so she could tend to him.
“This looks quite painful,” she murmured, conjuring a soft white light to study the wound by. The gash was as long as Tariel’s forearm, and half an inch deep. Gingerly, she pressed her hand against it, and blood seeped out, mingling with the blood that had already stiffened his coat.
“I know, I know,” she soothed as the horse whinnied again, a pained sound that wrenched at her heart. Closing her eyes, she envisioned a needle threading through the wound, stitching it back together. When she opened them, a glowing purple thread sat in the palm of her hand, the end forming a point. She closed her fingers around it, then gently inserted the needle into the top flap of skin, then the bottom.
Heal, she thought, willing the magic needle to stitch the skin closed. It took some effort, but she got it to do what she wanted, and within moments, the wound had closed. The stitches glowed brightly for a moment, then vanished, leaving no trace of the gash behind.
The second part, healing the internal damage, was a bit harder. Tariel’s brow beaded with sweat as she pressed her hands against the horse’s side again, visualizing the ripped tissue in her mind and forcing it to heal. A wave of tiredness went through her, but as the horse’s breathing grew easier and it relaxed beneath her touch, she knew she had done it.
“All right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Riann’s turn.”
She took a step toward them, then swayed. “Tariel,” Calrain said in alarm, grabbing her before she fell. “Are you all right?”
“You need to rest,” Riann said through clenched teeth. His eyes glittered as he looked at her, and his concern for her outshone whatever pain he was feeling. “I can make do with a bandage.”
“No.” Tariel shook her head. “I can sleep in your arms once we are back on the road. We cannot afford to stay here long.”
Calrain nodded grimly. “We already made the mistake of letting Sir Jerrold get close to us once. We can’t allow it to happen again.”
Riann’s eyes lowered with shame as he nodded. “I have failed you both,” he said as Tariel knelt at his side.
“You have done no such thing,” Tariel said, gripping the arrow shaft. Riann stiffened, and she yanked it out quickly, getting the worst of it over with. “You took a calculated risk, and I supported you.”
Riann clenched his jaw. “You didn’t know any better,” he said, his gaze going to Calrain’s. “But you did. And you saved my arse tonight.” His expression softened. “I owe you a debt.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We would have died if you had not fought off those knights long enough for me to get to the horses.” But Calrain grinned, and the expression lit up his handsome face. “It felt good to play the hero for once, but I admit, now that the excitement has passed, I am more than happy to pass the torch back to you. Now stop your squalling and let Tariel heal you.”
Riann huffed, but he did as Calrain asked. Thankfully, Riann’s wound was much smaller than Midnight’s, and Tariel was able to heal it quickly enough. But the effort sapped her remaining strength, and she swayed again, the ground tilting up to meet her.
“I’ve got you,” Riann said, gathering her into his strong arms. The edges of her vision dimmed, and she closed her eyes as he lifted her. Guilt clawed at her briefly for leaving them alone at a time like this, without the benefit of a disguise…but there was no fighting the exhaustion, and she finally succumbed to the seductive darkness of sleep.
When Tariel opened her eyes, it was still dark. For a moment, she wondered if she had merely passed out for a few minutes, but the scenery seemed different, and there was a bedroll beneath her. Pushing herself onto her elbow, she noticed a second bedroll next to her, still warm to the touch. But why wasn’t there a third? And where had Calrain and Riann gone?
As she stared up at the canopy of stars, everything came back to her. Sir Jerrold kidnapping her men, the flight to rescue them. She was beyond grateful that they had not only managed to escape, but had retrieved the abacus as well.
Her thoughts drifted back to the abandoned village, and she recalled the conversation she’d had with the ghost girl. A pang of guilt hit her—she had promised to bury the girl, but there had been no time to do so. Would the little girl curse her for not keeping the promise? And what did she mean when she said that Tariel was the reason they had been struck by the plague?
Sitting up, she reached for the pack next to her, thinking to summon the spirit. Perhaps Zolotais would be able to provide answers, and at the very least, she could relieve whichever man was currently on watch.
The branches of a nearby tree rustled before she could summon the spirit, and Tariel called what little magic she’d managed to regain, ready to wield it against the intruder. But her muscles relaxed when Calrain stepped into the clearing.
“Ah, you’re awake.” He smiled, revealing a tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth. The moonlight silvered his shaggy red hair and highlighted the edges of his angular cheekbones as he approached with long-legged strides. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit tired, but much better,” Tariel said as Calrain lay down beside her. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair back from her face, his brow furrowed with concern. His warm fingers sent sparks skipping through Tariel, and her core tightened in response. “Riann is up in the tree, taking the second watch right now. This is the first time we’ve stopped for a full night’s rest since you rescued us.”
Tariel smiled. “It looked like you two were doing a fine job rescuing yourselves by the time I found you,” she said, curling her fingers around his hand. She turned her cheek to kiss his palm, and delighted in watching his silver eyes grow dark with lust.
Calrain shook his head. “We would have been dead had you not come along,” he said, pulling her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled against him, wanting to soothe the rush of anxiety she felt from him. “The way you collapsed that bridge…it was truly incredible, Tariel.”
His praise filled Tariel’s chest with warmth. She’d had so little of it in her life—being a quick study had not endeared her to her teachers or her classmates, and they had either accused her of showing off or ignored her completely. Calrain and Ri
ann were the first people to openly praise her, and not for her looks, but for an ability they had been brought up to loathe and fear. It was a dream come true for her.
Lifting her head, Tariel brushed her lips against Calrain’s. “Make love to me,” she murmured against his mouth. “Fill me with your strength and passion.”
Calrain was more than happy to oblige. He kissed her deeply, his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom through her skirt. His impressive length hardened against her belly, and the space between her legs grew damp at the thought of having him inside her again. Dipping her hand beneath the waistband of his leggings, she drew him out, wrapping her fingers around his hot, silky length.
“Riann will hear us,” Calrain said on a soft groan as she massaged him. “He can probably see us, too.”
“So what?” She laughed softly as she continued to stroke him. “He has seen us before, and if he is jealous that he cannot join in, he will just have to deal with it. He is on watch, and I want you. Now.”
Calrain’s gaze fired with lust, and he kissed her again. His tongue tangled with hers as he pulled her leg around his waist and slid deep inside her. Tariel clung to him tightly, and with each thrust, she felt them growing closer together. He smelled so good, like parchment and incense and freshly mixed ink, though the scents were somewhat muted by the smell of horse and sweat and campfire smoke. It reminded her of their reading lessons in the storage room back when they were young.
But they were no longer children. As they moved together, Tariel slid her hands beneath his shirt. She loved the way his lean muscles felt beneath her hands as they flexed, and especially the feel of his bottom when she slid her hand lower. He started a little as she curled her fingers around the firm muscle, then laughed.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmured, cupping her bottom in return. He pushed even deeper inside her, and Tariel’s head fell back, his name on her lips as she finally came. The orgasm rippled through her like a river of light, filling her to the brim with power, and Calrain shuddered in her arms as he joined her.
“I love you,” he murmured into her hair afterward, stroking her back.
“And I, you,” she said, and she meant it. Her affection for both of her men had grown stronger these past few days, as the two of them had run from Castle Tyrook and the witch hunters. Trusting each other with their lives had deepened the intimacy between them, and Tariel couldn’t imagine not having them both in her life.
They lay still for a long moment, enjoying the glow of pleasure that lingered in their limbs. But eventually Tariel grew restless, and she rose, adjusting her dress around her body once more.
“Where are you going?” Calrain asked sleepily as she stepped toward the trees.
“To talk to Riann.” She turned back to Calrain with a smile. “Would you like to come?”
He shook his head, already lying back down. “I’ll be here,” he said, closing his eyes again. Tariel knew that despite the boost of strength he’d gotten from sex, he was still tired, so she let him rest and climbed the tree.
She found Riann about three quarters of the way up, sitting on a wide, sturdy branch with his feet stretched out in front of him. “I heard you were awake,” he said with a teasing smile as she joined him.
“Did you?” she said, settling atop his legs. Riann sat up a little straighter, wrapping his arms around her, and she leaned in for a kiss. “You’re exhausted,” she murmured, gently touching the dark circles beneath his eyelids.
“I’m fine,” Riann said, brushing her hand aside. He pressed his lips against hers, and Tariel sighed, allowing herself to be lost to the moment.
Riann’s kiss was slow and languorous, his lips molding over hers as he explored the dips and swells of her mouth. It was a long time before he slid his tongue between Tariel’s lips. She sighed, reveling in the smoky, earthen taste of him. His manhood swelled beneath her skirt, and her body responded, but through the bond she could also sense his exhaustion, and their position was quite precarious.
“Go back down to bed,” she said, pulling away. “I will take the next watch.”
Riann frowned. “I don’t want to leave you alone up here.”
“I will be fine.” Tariel smiled, summoning a ball of magic into her hand. The lavender glow washed across Riann’s face, illuminating his strong jawline and aquiline nose. “I have slept for nearly two days, and making love has strengthened me. You and Calrain both need a good night’s sleep if we are to make it to the capital tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Riann said. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her once more. “But if you see someone coming, don’t be a hero, Tariel. Call for us.”
“I will,” she promised.
Riann climbed down the tree, then she settled her back against the bark and waited for a new dawn to rise. Tomorrow, they would finally arrive at the capital. And maybe, just maybe, she would find out who her parents were.
21
“I’ve never seen a city so large,” Tariel said as she stared at the view before them. They sat atop a hill in a horse-drawn cart they had commandeered, gazing at the sprawling city. It was surrounded by wooden and stone palisade walls that protected from intruders on three sides, and within, the houses and buildings were simple, sturdy structures, also crafted from wood and stone. Even the castle that rose from the center was austere, the only colors coming from the blue and white pennants flapping from the tops of its spires.
The fourth side of the city, the only one not protected by walls, was a bit more colorful. There, the Virian Sea sparkled, its waves catching and reflecting the light of the sun as it hung high above them, marking the middle point of the day. The ships docked at the harbor flew colorful flags from their masts, and Tariel could already imagine the hustle and bustle of passengers and cargo coming and going from the docks.
“Neither have I,” Riann said, his eyes glittering in the sunshine. “I can’t believe we’ve finally made it.”
“I wonder if I might find a way to sneak into the university library,” Calrain said. His face shone with excitement at the prospect. “I’ve heard it is the greatest in Fjordland.”
“Not half as great as the Empire’s royal library,” Zolotais said, popping up by Tariel’s shoulder. Her glowing form flickered in the breeze as she floated next to them. “There are public libraries in every major city, so even commoners may come and learn. Education is highly valued.”
“Really?” Calrain asked, astonished. “Anyone can walk in and touch the manuscripts?” He shuddered a little at the thought of a grimy beggar coming in and laying filthy hands upon precious manuscripts.
Zolotais huffed. “The librarians do a good job of protecting the manuscripts from any harm,” she said. “Anyone can approach them so long as they take the proper precautions, though of course the magical texts are locked up, and require special permission to access.”
“I wonder if I will be able to get a look at them,” Tariel said. “It would be a joy to finally learn more about my abilities.”
“Of course you will,” Zolotais said, as if she were being silly. “Once you have proven yourself to be a mage, and have registered as an apprentice under an accredited master, you will have access to all those texts.”
Tariel went still. “A master?” she asked, somewhat taken aback. She had not thought that far ahead.
“You will need someone to teach you the ways of magic,” Zolotais said. “You have done remarkably well thus far, but there is much you do not know. You have too much raw power to waste your time bumbling about with it forever. In time, you will be quite formidable.”
“I thought she was already formidable when she collapsed that bridge,” Riann said. “I thought the witch hunter and his knights were going to wet their britches!”
“Ha!” Zolotais smirked. “That is because they are untutored barbarians, ignorant of magic’s full potential. If a real, fully trained Maroyan witch was among them, they would not stand a chance. Sir Jerrold and his me
n would quickly learn to respect mages, rather than hunt them down and kill them.”
“I don’t know about that,” Calrain said doubtfully. “I think their hatred of mages would double, and they would try even harder to bring them down.”
“Then it is a good thing the Maroyan Empire cares little about Fjordland,” Zolotais said tartly. “If the queen truly decided she could no longer suffer these barbarians, she would have conquered them long ago.”
“I’d say the queen’s lack of interference has more to do with Fjordland’s harsh climate and lesser resources,” Tariel said thoughtfully as she gazed out at the city again. It seemed so big and lively in comparison to Tyrook Village—she could hardly imagine what the Empire must be like, if it was even bigger and grander than this.
“True,” Zolotais said with a shrug. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
With that cheery note, she disappeared back into the abacus, which was tucked safely away in Tariel’s pack. The three of them exchanged uneasy looks.
“I don’t think Fjordland is all that bad,” Calrain finally spoke up, sounding a bit defensive. “We may not be as fancy and cultured, but that is because we prefer simpler lives.”
Riann snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’ve had a lifetime of simple fare and harsh climates—I’m ready to go south.”
He gripped the reins of the cart they were sitting in and spurred the horses forward. The three of them had found the cart by the road yesterday, and after hitching their horses to it, had decided to disguise themselves as farmers, and the warhorses as plow horses. They had carefully harvested cabbages from various fields they passed, taking care not to harm any one farmer too much, and they now had a sizable load to take into the city on the pretense of selling them at the market.
The city gates were much larger than they had appeared from the hilltop, and Tariel had to keep the awed expression off her face as she stared up at them. At least thirty feet tall and three feet thick, the gates loomed over the cart as a bored guard waved them through. She imagined the castle’s perimeter was just as thick, making it very difficult to get to the royal family in the event of an invasion.