Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 2 - The Questing Game by Fel ©

by James Galloway (aka Fel)

  Tarrin opened his eyes in time to see her turn and face him. "I didn't think you'd make it a private converstaion when you're in my room," he replied.

  "No," she said. "I wouldn't say anything about you that I wouldn't say to your face. How do you feel?"

  "Pretty good, actually," he said with a slight yawn. "Just aching, but I think that's normal."

  "More or less," she agreed. "Now that Dolanna here has a better understanding of why you do some of the things you do, we hope that she'll be able to manage you a little better when I let you go."

  "I had drawn some incorrect conclusions," Dolanna admitted to him. "Your instincts and motivations are much more complex than I initially thought."

  "We may have instincts, but we're not animals," Triana said bluntly. "Humans have instincts too, but they don't listen to them. More the pity for you."

  "What time of day is it?" he asked, looking out the window. The sky was cloudy, just on the verge of rain, and the continuous gloom of the clouds hid where the sun was.

  "Not far from sunset," Triana answered. "You've been asleep most of the day. And you'd better never do that again," she warned with an evil glare.

  "I didn't mean to," he said meekly.

  "I know. I'm going to have to do something about that," she announced.

  Dolanna chuckled lightly, then reached down and patted his paw. "Triana described what happened. Dear one, in your condition, touching the Weave is not wise. It would not be wise if you were completely healthy."

  "I know," he said in a bit of exasperation. "I said I didn't mean to do it, Dolanna. If I'd been thinking, I wouldn't have done it."

  "I know. I just want to make sure you understand things," she assured him with a warm smile.

  "Where are the others?"

  "Well, Allia and Faalken are in the courtyard, playing," she replied. "I sent Dar to the city's guild of bookmakers and paper pressers to buy some paper. I was about to go see Renoit, as well."

  "How are they doing?"

  "The circus is still popular, so it brings in money. Renoit has agreed with the leaders of Shoran's Fork to another two rides staying here. I hope you will be fit to travel by then."

  "I think I can teach him what he needs to know in twenty days," Triana agreed. "He'll be fit to travel on a ship in two."

  "I think I'm fit now."

  "You're still tender," she said. "The rocking of the ship would make healing slower for you. You're keeping your feet on the ground and your butt on restricted movement until the threat of reaggravating the injury is gone."

  "Yes mother," he said in a slightly teasing voice.

  "Don't sass me, cub," she warned in an ominous tone. "You're not too old to spank."

  "I'm just kidding, Triana," he said immediately, in a coniliatory tone.

  "That doesn't work for me," she said after a slight pause. "I liked 'mother' better."

  Tarrin gave her a slight stare, then he felt warm inside. That she would let him call her "mother" was a sure sign that she totally accepted him. It made him feel warm and safe, and it blossomed the gentle affection he'd had for Triana, blooming it into a deep love for the fiesty Were-cat elder, a love as deep as the one he held for his own parents, his sisters, or Janette. "If it pleases you, mother," he said in a hesitant tone, yet full of emotion.

  "It does please me," she said with a direct look into his eyes. "It pleases me very much." She gave him a gentle look that convinced him of her sincerity, that told him of her affection for him, and then it dissolved back behind that stony mask. "Let me go get you something to eat. I'd better see some hot food, too. I told those cooks to have hot food ready at all times. I'm going to make sure I don't have to explain things to them again. I can't tolerate repeating myself," she grunted as she opened the door, then stepped out.

  "My," Dolanna said after a second. "I never thought to see emotion from that face."

  "She's not heartless," Tarrin defended in a vigorous voice. "She's just...abrupt."

  "I know, Tarrin," she said in a gentle voice. "You should be proud. For someone like her to accept you is an honor."

  "I am proud," he said sincerely, looking up at his mentor. "I hope I don't disappoint her."

  "Dear one, I do not think you could, no matter what you do," she said with a smile.

  It had been a busy evening.

  After eating, Triana sat down with Dolanna and began teaching him again. Dolanna had become curious about the customs of the Woodkin, so Triana had allowed her to be present for the instruction. That had lasted well into the night. After Triana finished for the evening, Tarrin spent more time than he should have with Dar and Allia, playing King's Crown and just enjoying their company. Then Dar went to bed, and Faalken replaced him. Tarrin enjoyed the Knight's company, for he was irreverent and amusing, always trying to make Tarrin and Allia laugh. He knew when to put on a serious face and be a Knight, but when relaxing, he was a completely different person.

  After Faalken retired for the evening, Tarrin stayed up to nearly midnight with Allia, just being near her. The bonds between them ran deeper than even he understood, and from time to time he craved just to be near her, to hear her and see her and have her scent surround him. The time recovering and the long sessions of instruction had cut into the quiet time he usually spent with his sister, time he wanted to make up to her. The time they spent that night had been in nearly complete silence, as they sat together on his bed and read from the book teaching Sha'Kar that Keritanima had left behind with her other belongings. Dolanna had become that precious book's new guardian, and had left it for them so they could brush up on their vocabulary. They would probably have need of a complete grasp of the language, if they had to converse extensively with Keritanima using it.

  But time caught up with both of them, and the ache in Tarrin's chest began to get more pronounced, signalling to him that it was time to rest. He said his goodnights to his sister and settled in for the night, thinking over the events of the day. It had been a full one. Mist had been healed, and Triana had accepted him completely. Part of him still just glowed over that. It made him proud to think of Triana as his bond-mother, to know that she accepted him just as completely as she accepted her own natural children. He loved her, and he hoped that she loved him as much in return.

  There was a sound at the door. It was slight, as if the person there didn't want to be heard. Tarrin sat up, ignoring the little bite in his chest, staring at the door in the darkness brought on by the clouds hiding the Skybands and moons. It was even dark enough to make the door's outline murky to his night-sighted eyes, but he could see from the light seeping under the door that someone was standing there. He breathed in deeply through his nose, analyzing the air. He sorted through the scents left behind by others, until he isolated the one that was emanating from behind that door. It was very faint, but he could identify it easily enough. It was Mist.

  What did she want? Was she simply taking a turn at the door, as Allia and Faalken had done? Was this her shift to stand guard over him? Most likely. He couldn't think of any other reason for her to be there.

  He'd started to lay back down, but the door opened quickly. Almost as if she wanted to surprise him. The light silhouetted her form, making him appreciate the powerful yet feminine outline of her body, hiding the features of her face in the shadow created by the candles behind her.

  "Mist?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

  She stepped in and closed the door, then leaned against it in the way that Triana tended to do when she came in. "I," she said in a strange voice, then she was silent. It was quivering, unsure. Afraid? What reason did she have to be afraid? She cleared her throat, then started again. "I wanted to, thank you, for what you did for me," she said, her voice backed by courage, from the sound of it.

  "It was nothing," he told her. "I'd do the same for any of my kin."

  "It's not nothing to me!" she said with ferocity in her voice, coming off the door and standing straight and tall. Nearly defiant. "You gave me ba
ck something I thought I'd lost forever," she said, her voice wavering again. "I can't repay you for that. Ever. But it's only half of what I'm missing."

  Tarrin's mind began to consider the implications of that, but she continued. "You gave me back the chance to have my own children, but--" She came to his bed, leaning over him, and he could see into her eyes. He could see the desperation there. "But I don't trust anyone else, Tarrin! I couldn't take a mate. I wouldn't let anyone get that close to me, except for you!"

  That stunned him, but she didn't give him a chance to think about it. "Give me this one thing, and I'll never bother you again," she said in a pleading tone. "You gave me back my ability to have a child. I want that child to be yours. It can't be anyone's but yours."

  He shook off the astonishment. She trusted him! She actually trusted him! That was almost as impressive as the fact that she wanted him to sire her child, something that made the human in him go into apoplexy. Mist, who was so alone, had finally shaken the steel around her heart and opened it to another. But it was fragile. He could see it all over her. If he rejected her, rebuffed her, it would completely destroy her. She had finally gone against the very fiber of her being and let her guard down to another. If he didn't honor the tremendous risk she was taking, it would make him no better than the worst villain in the world.

  What she was asking was serious, and she seemed to understand it. It may not mean much to a Were-cat, for the males of his kind had no involvement in the rearing of a child, but Tarrin wasn't born Were. His human sensibilities rebelled against what she was asking. But there was no way even the human in him could look into the desperation in her eyes and say no. It was too important to her, and he wouldn't deny her the one thing she'd dreamed of for a very, very long time.

  He reached up and put his paw on her arm. "It's not a bother, Mist," he said gently. "You don't have to think that you have to never see me again if I do what you want."

  "Will you? I'm begging, Tarrin! Please?"

  "It's too important to you, Mist," he said calmly. "I wouldn't deny it from you, no matter what. If it's what you want, then I'll do it. But you have to get permission from Triana. If she catches us in here, she'll flay us both."

  She nearly jumped up and down. And she was trembling. She reached down and put her paw against his cheek, then she turned and literally ran out of the room. She almost didn't get the door open before trying to go through the doorway. She left it open after nearly breaking it down trying to get out of the room. She was certainly in a hurry.

  Tarrin blew out his breath and laid back down. What was he getting himself into? He wasn't afraid of Mist; what he'd seen was too much from her heart to be a lie. She'd wanted a child all her life, and Tarrin realized that he was the only one around who could fulfill that lifelong dream. He had healed her, but now he had to give her more to complete her dream. And he found he was willing to give her that. He felt so sorry for Mist, he had so much compassion for her, he would do anything she asked if it helped make her feel better. He didn't love her, but what she wanted of him didn't require love.

  All he hoped was that she didn't close herself up again after getting what she wanted. He didn't want her to be alone. That was a fate worse than death, as far as he was concerned. He would give her what she wanted. He just hoped she would be his friend after that was done.

  He could hear them in the hallway now. "Triana!" Mist said in a strangled tone as their voices came audible. "I'll be careful, I promise! I wouldn't dream of hurting him!"

  "I don't know, Mist," Triana said in a hesitant tone. "He's still tender. Something like that would open that wound again."

  "Triana, I swear that I'll be as careful as possible," she said in an adamant voice, all wheedling and emotion banished for it. "He understands, Triana. I know that much. I've wanted a child for so long, and he's the only one--"

  "Laren is only a few days out, Mist," Triana said in a reasonable tone. "You won't hurt him."

  "No," she said fiercely. "I don't know him, and I don't trust him. Tarrin gave me back my womanhood, he deserves to be the father of my cub. I want it to be Tarrin. Nobody but him."

  "So, you're saying that you trust Tarrin enough to--"

  "I trust him," she said bluntly.

  There was quite a silence from the hallway. "Alright. But if you open that wound, I'm going to rip out your spleen. Do you understand me?"

  "I won't put a claw on him, Triana."

  "It's not your claws I'm worried about," she snorted. "Go on, before I change my mind."

  "Thank you!" Mist said with an explosive release of breath. Then she was back in the room, door closing behind her. Her paws went to the tail of her ragged shirt the instant the door was closed. "I'll be very careful, Tarrin," she assured him as she pulled her shirt off. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

  "I trust you, Mist," he said calmly as she shrugged off her pants, then quickly yet confidently came up to the bed.

  "I believe you," she said in a sincere voice as she gently got into bed with him. She put no weight on his chest as she leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss on the lips. "I believe you."

  Tarrin learned two things from his interlude with Mist. First, that his physical condition was just as delicate as Triana said.

  The second was that he had earned Mist's undying loyalty.

  She had admitted as much to him afterwards. She had been so concerned for his condition that it nearly made it impossible for them to carry through with it, but Mist's powerful impulse to have a child finally overwhelmed her fear of hurting him. It hadn't hurt too much, but it was worth the disocomfort to bring about a little healing in Mist's tortured soul. Mist had been alone for more than half her life, living on the fringe of everything, a prisoner of her own fear.

  But she was a prisoner no longer. Centuries of isolation flooded out of her in words, as she confided in Tarrin an entire lifetime of pent-up emotion, experiences, and secrets. She told him absolutely everything, leaving nothing hidden, giving to him the totality of her in a display of the trust that had so newly found its way into her heart. She had had no one else to talk to in so long, nobody that she would trust enough to hold the information that she gave to him. She was an intelligent woman, understanding that it was her instincts that wouldn't let her get close to others, yet still incapable of conquering them. Until now. Tarrin's selfless act of charity had restored her body, and it had also allowed her to find the courage to overwhelm her fear and reach out to him. At first, it had been solely because he was male, and was the only one that could get her pregnant. But after she thought about it, she confided, she realized that he was the only male she would allow to get that close to her. She had been struggling against her fear at first, even at the very thought of it. Mating with him would require intimacy, a willingness to put herself in a position where he could harm her. It required trust. She hadn't had that trust at first, but then she understood that she would have to trust at least one male enough for him to get her pregnant. Tarrin was injured, he was weakened, and he had the mighty Triana's respect and affection. Those were enough in her mind, at first, to attempt to try. She'd felt she could maintain control, and mating with a weakened male would allow her to retain the upper hand. But then, she'd told him, she realized that he wouldn't harm her. Not because he couldn't, but because he wouldn't. She realized that, and when she did, she realized that she did indeed trust him.

  Trust him enough to submit her safety to him and go through with the mating, to put her naked throat within reach of his claws when she would be in no condition nor position to guard against her own safety. She knew she'd be vulnerable during the mating, but the very thought that he would try to harm her had become ludicrous to her. But still, knowing it was one thing, but believing it was another. That was why she had been so nervous. She had really reached deep into herself to bring herself to ask him, and he had fortified her own security in her decision when he had agreed. Not because he wanted to mate with her, not because she didn't look l
ike she was going to take no for an answer, but because it was what was best for her. He was willing to mate with her because it was what she needed, not what he wanted. That concern for her well being had solidified her feeling of trust for him, had set it in stone in her mind and heart.

  Forever after, Tarrin would be someone she could trust.

  She laid beside him on her side, looking at him with those green eyes as her fingers gently tested the bandage for signs that the wound had opened again. He'd found that she was even more attractive when her ragged clothes were off, all soft skin covering hard steel for muscles, a form and figure that begged to be touched, fur that was surprisingly silky to the touch, and a responsiveness that would drive a male of any species wild. Mist's senses were acute, even for a Were-cat, and that made her surprisingly sensual for a woman who had shunned contact for centuries. The tight defensiveness that had marred the beauty of her eyes was gone now. He knew it wasn't gone forever, but when she felt that she was secure, when she was alone with him, it wouldn't be there. That was when he understood Triana's warnings. Mist was feral. That would never change. But at least she had managed to shunt off some of that fear and distrust. She had learned to trust again, even if it was just one person. That was a significant step for her, a step back towards being able to function in Were-cat society. She would always be feral, but he hoped she wouldn't be as feral as she had been when he first met her. That was where he could be, where he could end up.

  "Does it hurt?" she asked in concern, putting the pad of her palm on the bandage.

  "Only when you do that," he replied dryly. That made her paw flinch away from him.

  "Sorry," she said contritely. "Tarrin, I just want you to know--"

  "I already know," he assured her, smiling. "This isn't permanent. We may have to do it again, but once you're pregnant, you'll be going your own way."