“I see.” Thade drew in a deep breath, situating himself back down on his chair. He was silent, thinking over his words carefully before speaking again. “Well, you are both adults – now.” He looked at Leyna calmly. “If that was the extent of the incident, then it is your own business. Knowing Teagan, I feared it would be far worse.”
“You know I would never let him touch her,” Feolan started. A simple wave of Thade’s hand brought him to silence.
“We will discuss that later, Feolan.”
She had expected things to go worse, fearing how Thade would react to hearing about Teagan’s behavior. It bothered her to know Thade was aware of the fact that Feolan had kissed her, but it didn’t make sense to her why she should care. Like he’d said, she was an adult… now. He knew she wasn’t before. It was his subtle way of reminding her that he was at least somewhat knowledgeable of her past secret. She wondered if Feolan had ever known, or if he allowed himself to be misled by Thade in regards to her age. He never gave any indication one way or another.
Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. It made for a long, awkward silence between them, no one’s eyes making contact with anyone else’s. They were lost in their own thoughts. Leyna would have given anything to know what they were thinking. “I guess that settles it, then. I will go with Zander and see what I can find out.”
She started to move toward the door when the sound of Thade’s voice stopped her. It was softer than she was used to, filled with a gentle urgency for her to listen. “Leyna. I wish to speak with you before you go.”
“Of course,” she nodded, moving to sit down on the settee. He rose up from his chair, shaking his head at her.
“No. Not here. If you would follow me.”
Something was wrong. Private conversations between the two of them were rare occurrences during the war. To them, there was nothing that couldn’t be said in front of Feolan – perhaps it was the presence of Zander which made it necessary.
They moved down a long hallway with Feolan and Zander staring after them. Leyna could tell Feolan shared in her confusion over Thade’s request to speak with her alone.
At the end of the hall, Thade entered a wide wooden door, stepping off to one side to allow Leyna entrance, without removing his hand from the knob. He waited for her to pass, carefully closing the door behind them. A soft click echoed through the room as it shut, leaving them cut off from the others in the front of the house.
It was a study of some sort. A large desk took up most of the room with a hard-backed chair pushed up against it. Quills and parchment paper were strewn about the surface, a half-written letter left in the center. The ink looked to be dry, having been neglected there for some time.
“I always thought your return would be under more pleasant circumstances.”
“You knew I would return?” It struck her as odd that he would have expected to find her back in Siscal when it was common knowledge throughout Tanispa that Lady Faustine’s students tended to remain under her care until marriage.
He never moved, his hand still wrapped around the handle of the door. “I hoped that you might. I even came by not long ago with the foolish notion of trying to convince you to leave Tanispa. I knew how much you were against going there in the first place.”
“Maeri did tell me someone came by to wish me a happy birthday. I thought it might have been you.”
Nodding his head, he slowly turned away from the door, covering the distance between them in only a few long strides. “I found it unusual that you were absent from Lady Faustine’s watch on your birthday. As you can imagine, it brought a few possibilities to mind.”
“A few which I will not confirm or deny for you,” Leyna frowned. “There was much going on that week in preparation for Queen Vorsila’s masque.”
“Yes, had I known you would be in attendance, I would have gone myself instead of sending Feolan.”
“Well, he brought me back, so it would seem he succeeded in doing what you intended.”
“My intentions were to bring you back, yes – but to join me in business of the court… not like this.” She could hear the strain in his voice. His hands moved suddenly, reaching up to her neck. With a precise movement of his fingers, he undid the clasp of the cloak, the heavy fabric sliding from her shoulders down to the ground.
She flinched reflexively at this hand, breathing in a deep intake of air. Her entire body tensed as the cloak slipped away. The absence of the voluminous material left her feeling vulnerable and exposed in front of him. “Thade –”
Her voice trailed off at the feeling of his hand lightly brushing over the bare skin of her left arm. The scar tissue was still sensitive to the touch, causing her to shiver. She’d never let anyone near enough to it other than Lady Faustine while it was still healing. His eyes lingered over the scar on her chest, grimacing painfully at the sight of it. “You saved my life, Leyna. And now I feel as though I am repaying you by throwing you in front of the arrows again.”
“I would gladly take the arrows again if it will save our people.” It was true. Though she could tell it hurt Thade to hear her say it, she couldn’t deny it to be how she felt. Serving her country and Queen gave a purpose to her life which she longed for. It made everything feel like it was for something rather than the idle life of a simple girl whose only goal was to play wife, cooking and cleaning. She felt she was capable of greater things, and she wasn’t content to settle for less.
“If anything happens to you, I will hold myself accountable.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I will not let anything happen to me. Just promise me you will trust that. I may be dressed like a lady, but I can still fight like a soldier… and I learned how to plot and plan from the best. You taught me well. This is just another opportunity to put my training to good use.”
Gently he rested his hands over Leyna’s slender arms, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Promise me that you will be careful. These people are harder to protect you from than Teagan ever was. Many of them are assassins and thieves lacking any scruples. They care only about power. As for the Ven’shal – they will make even the most cunning Sanarik look weak and helpless.”
“I promise –”
“No, you do not understand,” he cut in, a hint of desperation echoing in his tone. “You cannot allow them to drag you into their magic or rituals. Even if your refusal to do so results in the fall of the entire mission, do not let them convince you to dabble in their sorcery. It slowly destroys the user from the inside out until there is nothing left of them but a shell of who they once were. You might think one time is harmless, but even that can be seen in the soul of a Vor’shai. It reflects in their eyes, dulling the purity of the light inside them. I could never live with myself if I ever saw that happen to you… knowing that it was because I am being careless enough to allow you to do this.”
She couldn’t blame him for his concern. Her lack of experience with the Ven’shal left many questions unanswered in regards to their magic, but from what she had seen, she knew that she would feel the same if the tables were turned. Even worse was knowing they would be unable to speak to each other the way they had during the war. This was a different mission than her role of lieutenant. She would take orders from him as her superior officer, but no one could know from where her directives came. No one could be allowed to know that she had directives at all.
Lack of communication between them would be the hardest part for him to bear, never knowing where she was or what was happening until she found some means of contacting him. Yes, she understood his concern, at least to an extent. All she could do was promise him that she would be careful, and that she would keep in touch as much as she could. “Do not worry about me, Thade. I will heed all of your warnings and I will be more insidious than the Sanarik could ever dream of being. They will never know who I am, or what I do, until we have uncovered the secrets we need to bring them down.”
“You never cease to amaze me.” His eyes remained o
n hers with a look of respect, giving in to her assurances with a decisive nod. “How could I say no to you when you look at me with such determination in your eyes? It is an admirable quality. One that I have seen in very few throughout my entire life. But why does that trait have to put such an innocent woman in the path of danger so often?”
“Because I enjoy it,” she smiled, kneeling down to collect the cloak from the floor. “You may think me crazy, but I love the excitement. The thrill of never knowing what might happen. It certainly beats out the tedium I have endured for every day of my life since you saw me carried off to Tanispa. A girl needs to feel her heart race once in a while to remind her that she’s still alive.”
“There are other ways to make your heart race than throwing yourself to the wolves…”
“Then I will discover those when I grow tired of the wolves.” She paused, feeling the weight of the cloak in her hand. Rising back to her feet, she offered it to Thade, wishing she could take it with her, if only for the comfort it had provided her throughout her journey back to Siscal. There was no time for comfort anymore.
Reluctantly he accepted it from her. What more could he possibly say? Her mind was made up and she had no intention of changing it. The gods brought her back to Siscal for a reason. Her people needed her. “Tell Zander I will speak with him more when next he has a chance to visit. I have some writing to finish before it gets too late.”
Acknowledging his request with a graceful curtsy, she turned to make her way to the door, preparing herself for the life that she had just accepted. Faced with the curious stares of Feolan and Zander in the front room, she gave the most believable smile she could manage. She hated to leave Thade the way that she did, but there was nothing else she could do. This was what she wanted with her life, and until something happened to sway her otherwise, nothing was going to stop her.
“Is everything alright?” Feolan still looked concerned; the spark in his eye telling her that he feared she was in some kind of trouble.
Patting him lightly on the arm, she tried to remain casual, not wanting to give away the fact that she was growing more and more uneasy about her decision. Her mind was still made up, but she was suddenly aware of the severity of what was being asked of her. Was she up for the challenge? It didn’t matter. There was no longer any choice. “Everything is fine. The Consul has some work to finish and will not be rejoining us. I think it best Zander and I be on our way to prepare for tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Zander nodded, glancing cautiously toward the door. “My horse is in the bushes off the main road to the village. Keep close, and stay to the shadows. Welcome aboard.”
Chapter Eight
“Okay, we need to go over a few things,” Zander announced, pushing the curtains open to let in the light from the morning sun. Leyna brought her hand up to shield her eyes, peering at him quizzically. “Gislan is supposed to come over for lunch today. That leaves us very little time to get you up to speed before you will be put on the spot to show off your acting skills.”
“Today?” she gasped, sitting up straight in the bed. It was too soon. She needed more time to prepare herself; to get into the mindset her role would require. How could she possibly be able to gather information when she didn’t fully understand what she was looking for?
Tossing a piece of tattered cloth onto her lap, Zander motioned for her to stand up, pacing back and forth like a trapped animal. “Put that on. It’s the best I could find on such short notice. I wasn’t expecting to be harboring a slave for this meeting…”
“The best you could find?” Holding up the dingy material, she could see that at one time it had been a simple dress, the fabric now worn and frayed in several places. “You expect me to wear this?”
Zander paused in his pacing to look at her, his brow furrowed in frustration. “Do not turn into a princess on me all of a sudden,” he grumbled. “A slave isn’t going to be dressed in the finest fashions. You will have to get used to wearing rags for a while. At least until we can get you situated in a better position amongst these people. If I can sell you to Mikel, maybe he prefers his slaves in silk.”
The sarcasm was evident in his tone. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with his attitude. “I am a slave to you only in this charade, not in real life. I suggest when we are alone, you treat me with a little bit of respect as a partner in this or we are going to have some issues. Are we understood?”
“Plain as day. Now put the dress on.”
“Get out of my room.”
Raising his eyebrow in her direction, he started to argue, thinking better of it at the last second. “This is my room. I could have made you sleep on the floor last night, if I had known you would be like this.”
“What? You think I am going to just strip down and dress in front of you? I may be playing your slave, but allow me a bit of dignity.”
A look of realization crossed over Zander’s features at her words. For an instant, his features softened, a hint of the lighthearted man she’d met at the tavern flashing back to the surface. “I’m used to working with men. You will have to excuse me.”
“I will think about it. You can speak to me through the door. I can listen while I dress.” She hesitated to uncover herself in front of him. Her situation was likely to force her into positions which would be uncomfortable enough without having to add to it when it wasn’t necessary. It wouldn’t be proper for him to see her in her bed clothes.
He never gave a second look as he walked through the door, leaving it open a crack to allow him to continue talking without being muffled by the thickness of the wood. Leyna watched the opening before she slipped out from under the blankets, making sure he wasn’t looking. Satisfied that he wasn’t, she tugged at the laces of her nightgown, letting it fall to the floor around her feet.
The dress was nothing more than a rag, but it was clean. She had to at least appreciate that. She didn’t dare ask him where he had found it. “Tell me about Gislan,” she called out, pulling the scratchy material over her head. “What is she? At first glance I thought her to be Vor’shai but she lacks other qualities to back that up.”
“She is a mixed breed, as is her sister,” Zander explained through the door, his voice sounding closer than Leyna was comfortable with. “We call them Esai. Typically they are a cross between the Vor’shai and Mialan people, but in this case, their mother was Vor’shai and their father was a human. Most half breeds don’t merit paying attention to, but an Esai is a child of mixed heritage who managed to somehow inherit the magic of the Vor’shai, to some extent. They are rarely as potent as a true Vor’shai, but they can utilize the energy, nevertheless.”
Though loose, the dress fit her, looking more like a sack with holes cut into it than a garment intended for actual wear. If it had been any thicker in texture, she might have believed Zander to have stolen a fruit bag from the market and was passing it off as clothing. “And Mikel? What is he? Another Esai?”
“Yes, but his heritage is a little shadier. He reeks of Ven’shal. His parents are known among the Ven’shal. His mother is pureblood. I suspect his father to be mixed, but I have never been able to convince Gislan to discuss much else about him.”
Clutching uncomfortably at the bottom of the dress, Leyna tried to pull it down further, uncomfortable with the short length. It stopped just above her knees with a small tear creating a slit up the right side, nearly to her hip. When she was younger, it might have fit her more appropriately. As a woman, it felt more like an undergarment than anything else.
She inhaled a deep breath on her way to the door. The thought of Zander seeing her in such a state of undress was embarrassing, but it was required if she wanted Gislan to believe she was a slave under Zander’s hand. It would be the first of many humiliations she would have to endure. She operated under no false ideas that she would be treated in any respectable manner.
“His wife, Oksuva, she has ties to the Ven’shal, but she tends to –”
Zan
der’s voice trailed off at the sight of her, his eyes blinking in surprise. “Well,” he stammered. “I didn’t expect you to make that look so good.”
“This is degrading enough just having to put it on. Let us try not to keep pointing it out to me that I look so… cheap.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned up against the wall, gazing back at her casually. “You know, I should warn you that in order to effectively convince Gislan that you are my slave, I will have to say things, and occasionally touch or strike you. I hope you will accept my advanced apologies for this.”
“I would hope you could avoid touching or striking me whenever possible.” That was one detail she’d failed to consider when agreeing to this task. She had never owned a slave, but she’d watched others and the way they treated them. It was vulgar at times. The slave was nothing more than an animal to their master. Thinking about the things that would be expected of Zander to do to her was almost enough to make her call the whole thing off. More and more she was gaining a better understanding of why Thade had been so against it.
“Of course,” he shrugged, the look in his eye growing more serious. “But keep in mind that Gislan thinks I am taking advantage of you in every possible way. Flinch when I raise my hand to you, and it will help to avoid the need to actually strike you. Look uncomfortable in general when I touch you. A slave doesn’t have to enjoy being an object to their master. You need to look frightened, and speak very little. Slaves typically aren’t allowed to talk. It can be grounds for punishment.”
It made sense. Frail was never a quality she’d exhibited before, but it seemed simple enough to mimic. She had seen the other girls at Lady Faustine’s. They cringed at the sight of snakes and spiders and cried at the drop of a hat. It was irritating to watch, but easy enough to portray. She just had to imagine Zander’s touch to be like a slithering snake dropping out of a tree onto her – but with less theatrics in screaming than the other girls she’d seen.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 23