Talk about a disaster.
Things didn’t get much better for a long time after that. I sat and moped, gloomily monitoring the Simathes’ comings and goings. Everyone ignored me, but I decided being ignored was infinitely better than everybody staring at me like I was the lowest life form ever created because I’d lost my temper with their revered High-Chief. That had been the worst.
Sometime around noon, a Simathe lad of about thirteen brought me lunch. I was so disheartened I didn’t even try to engage him in conversation as I might have otherwise. When he left I only picked at the food, not in the mood for eating, either. After forcing down all I wanted, I placed the dishes in the grass and lifted my face. Ilgard was beckoning me over. I got to my feet, wary of what he might have planned.
With a simple, “Try again,” he offered me the same weapons I’d been using earlier.
“Oh brother,” I muttered. My fingers trembled as I took them from him, but at least it was only Ilgard this time. The rest of the group had moved on by now.
“Are you sure you want to go through this again?” I asked, making sure before I bothered to get started.
He placed large hands on my shoulders, positioning my body in line with the target.
“It is needful.”
I lowered the bow. “Why? I thought the whole point of my being brought to Treygon was so you and your men could protect me.”
He nodded. “It was. But what will you do if you find yourself in danger and alone? No, you must learn to defend yourself.”
“But I thought, since we’re Joined, that you’d always be there to protect me.”
My breath snagged and I dropped my arrow when his hand suddenly seized my chin, lifting it so that our gazes met and held.
“Hear this now, my lady.” His voice was low and grave, and his alien eyes intense. “We are Joined, you and I, and I’ll fulfill my oath to protect you. Teaching you to defend yourself is a part of that protection. Would you remain helpless?”
“Of course not, but you’ll still be there for me, won’t you? I mean, I can’t stand the thought that this…this Joining was all for nothing.
“Besides,” I blurted out, “even when you sometimes scar—I mean, well…” I scrunched up my face, trying to think of a better word, “…unnerve me, I’d still way rather be with you than be alone when drocnords or deathcats are around.”
He stared at me a long moment. Then, a smile broke across the hard planes of his face, softening them to the point that he actually looked human. I blinked wildly, stunned.
Whoa, he’s totally hot! I thought, shocked—then nearly died of shame.
“Many thanks for the confidence, my lady,” he returned dryly. “I’m honored you’ve found some use for me.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I mumbled, blushing.
Stick your foot in your mouth again, idiot!
He shook his head. “My lady need not fear,” he enjoined quietly. “You are safe with me.” He paused for emphasis, eyes flickering over my face. “I would never harm you.”
Nonplussed, I had no reply to that. It was true I’d been through quite a bit with him by now. It wasn’t that I thought he would actually hurt me, it was just that he unnerved me so darn much. He was poles apart from anybody I’d ever met, and impossible to read on top of that. Throw the craziness of Joining into the mix, and what was I supposed to think?
Finally, I whispered a simple, “Okay.”
He studied me a moment longer before releasing my chin. I quickly turned away, relieved to be out from under that piercing gaze.
Talk about seeing right through a person.
Hoping to forestall further conversation, I raised the bow, preparing once more to shoot. My earlier nervousness had lessened, but it was difficult not to feel uncomfortable considering this newfound attraction and Ilgard standing so close. Spring sunshine glinted on his bronzed skin, and I caught the scent of leather, dust, and man. In my mind, I could still feel the warmth of his fingers on my chin.
Concentrate, Hannah.
Peering down the straight shaft of the arrow, setting up for the moment of release, I narrowed my gaze in focus.
You can do this, I told myself.
My fingers let go. The arrow darted from my bow, flying through the air and striking one of the target’s inner rings with a satisfying thud.
“Yes!” Pumped with success, I turned proudly to Ilgard. “Check that out—I did it. Bam!”
He nodded, handed me another arrow. “Well done. The next must exceed.”
“Exceed? Come on, that was pretty good. Admit it, you didn’t think I could handle a bow at all, did you?”
“I believe my lady can do whatever she puts her hand to.”
He was dead serious. Of course, he always was, but this was different.
Did he just compliment me?
My mind reeled, trying to decipher this strange man who one minute was implacable and frightening, and the next reassuring and practically kind. I couldn’t. Still, I had to admit getting a compliment from the Simathe High-Chief, weirdly, felt worth its weight in gold.
Softening
She was correct. After this morning’s tragedy of an archery practice, he had begun to wonder why anyone would deem her the legendary Artan. Now, as she fitted arrow to string, determination solidified her features, making her look better suited to the role.
She let fly the arrow. It struck the target—again an inner ring—but not the red bull’s eye.
“Darn it, what’s wrong with me? I can do better than this!”
He passed her another arrow from the quiver at his feet. “Again.”
In truth, she was doing far better than he would have hoped. These attempts showed promise and were infinitely better than her previous ones. He’d pitied her then. Had not the Joining told him plainly of the apprehension raging in her breast, the trembling of her hands would have. He’d sensed the trepidation he always did when she was near his comrades and himself, but this morning a new element had been added.
For whatever reason, she’d seemed especially uncomfortable. Perhaps because he and most of his men had stripped down in anticipation of the morning’s heat? She was clearly discomfited, and had barely kept from staring at him. At present, however, that awkwardness was gone. She was focused on her bow, determined to display her competence.
He thought of that soft brush against her back when she was preparing her first shot. He hadn’t truly set out to spoil her aim. He’d merely wanted to see her reaction; to test if she’d be able to overcome the distraction and complete the job. Unfortunately, when her shot had been spoiled, her anger had risen like a wave at sea. It was not a bad response, despite her having gone too far. It meant she was overcoming her fear of him. That was a good thing. They were Joined, were they not? It was time for her to realize he meant her no harm. Time for her to accept his protection, as well as his guidance.
She may have looked more formidable today in the clothing the Spinners had provided, but he knew she’d lived a pampered life on Earth. Were The Evil to attack again, she’d be nigh helpless. Until she learned to use her magic, she would learn to use weapons. Until someone arrived to instruct her in the use of her powers, he would instruct her in the use of those.
His thoughts were drawn back to the present when he saw she was readying for another attempt at the target. Already he could see that it wouldn’t succeed, and why.
“Permit me, my lady.”
Placing one of his hands over hers, he slid her fingers down the bow, readjusting her hold and correcting her form. Slipping his other arm around her back, he grasped her forearm gently, bringing it up, so that the arrow was better positioned against the string.
“There,” he said, “try this. Your aim will improve.”
For several long seconds, she merely stood there. Then, her head came up very slowly, turning a little so that her eyes met his. His face was close to hers, he realized abruptly, and he could smell the warm, sun-dren
ched scent of her hair. Her eyes widened, her lips parting softly. He detected a subtle emotional shift as her gaze dropped to his arms circling her in a loose embrace before rising to his. She simply stared up at him, wide eyed, her mismatched eyes of brown and green soft, beautiful.
Belatedly, the warrior-lord grasped the fact that this was the first time his arms had been around her when she was neither unconscious, desolate, or in peril. She could not move or step away, and neither could he. Through their bond, he could feel the ties linking them together. Within her warred the desires for him to move away…and to move closer. It produced an unknown, heady sensation, and for a moment the Simathe could not say which he desired most.
Finally, reasserting iron self-control, he dropped his hands and stepped back. She swallowed hard; he saw her throat constrict. Her hands were visibly shaking, yet she maintained the new positions he’d shown her. When she released the arrow, it flew straight and true, striking the ruby bull’s eye dead center.
Cole
Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?
Days later, the questions still haunted me. As I walked out to the training grounds for my daily practice session, I couldn’t get them out of my head. Memories of my first visit out here overwhelmed me every time I saw the black-haired warriors, so like their High-Chief. The feeling of standing loosely imprisoned in the circle of his arms…
I shook my head to dispel the vision.
Why did I look at him that way? What on earth came over me?
It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been close or had his arms around me. True, those previous occasions were during desperate circumstances when I was hardly in a frame of mind to care. But that didn’t explain everything, like what had made it different this time.
As I thought on it, I realized maybe the problem was that while I’d accused Ilgard of seeing me as merely female and not as a woman, I’d been guilty of the same thing. All that had changed in one defining moment, a moment with his arms encircling me, the warmth of his skin fiery against my flesh. He was a man, all right, and a striking one at that. I now had to remind myself not to stare whenever he was around. The way he moved, his Simathe heritage, and that deadly something marking him as a battle-tested warrior… He captured my attention in ways no guy back home ever had or could. He frightened and intrigued me at the same time.
I wondered if our Joining had clued him in on this newfound attraction, because I hadn’t seen much of him since that first archery session. He’d trained with me only once after that, and I thought had made a point of not touching me in any way. The majority of my training was basically left up to the Chief Captain and another warrior, Lord Contrey, whom I’d learned was one of Treygon’s oldest and most respected Simathe. Both of these men were typical Simathe: distant and firm, but unfailingly polite—good teachers. Under their tutelage, my skill with the bow was already improving.
Since it was so awkward being attracted to their High-Chief, especially knowing he might be aware of it, I was relieved each time I went outside and didn’t see him. That didn’t mean I stopped looking for him, though. Once, I even asked Lord Norband where he was, only to be informed that, as High-Chief, he had many obligations to fulfill. However, he’d reassured me, he always knew my whereabouts, and if he sensed any harm to my person, help would not be far away.
Right. The Joining. Curse the thing.
Merely thinking Ilgard was good-looking in a certain way, and feeling a basic attraction, I could’ve handled. Being thrown into contact no more than we were, and with his cold, distant ways, I could have expelled him from my brain. I could’ve told myself to forget about him and quit acting like an idiot. Eventually it might have worked.
The Joining wouldn’t allow for that. That’s what I chose to blame my crazy reactions on, anyway. It was so stupid, but I couldn’t get the Simathe lord out of my head. Whenever he was anywhere near, I always felt it, like a sixth sense itching at my brain. To know he constantly sensed my whereabouts, what I felt, and probably a lot of what I was thinking only added to my discomfort. Part of me wanted to be near him: a spineless feeling of dependency I also blamed on the Joining. At the same time, the rest of me resisted fiercely, saying I did not need him, didn’t need his protection, didn’t want his attention, and really didn’t want him around.
The confusion tormented me, although I doubt any onlookers could’ve guessed. I figured I was doing a pretty good job of covering it up. Outwardly, at least. Inwardly, who knew what the Simathe lord could divine? The only time we had an audience was when we sat next to each other during the evening meal. We didn’t really talk, which was okay, since he was Simathe. Nothing weird there. Sometimes he would inquire courteously about my day—how I’d spent it, how my archery progressed, etc. But that was about it. He never delved deep, and neither did I. For the most part, we were content to leave one another alone.
This morning when I reached my destination, I pulled away from my own thoughts to see neither of my usual teachers waited for me at the shooting range. In fact, I smiled to see it was actually the younger-looking Simathe with whom I’d enjoyed a measure of secret companionship on the journey to Treygon. Although he didn’t smile back, the cast of his features somehow conveyed good humor, which helped put me at ease.
Accepting the quiver he presented, I swung it across my back, fastening it within easy reach of the arrows.
“So, you’re going to train with me today?”
“If it pleases my lady.”
“It does,” I said. “Tell me, what’s your name?”
“I am Cole, my lady.” He offered a little bow, adding formally, “Always at your service.”
“Cole…I like that. It suits you.”
He looked like he didn’t know quite what to make of that remark. I guess the Simathe weren’t given lots of compliments.
“So, I was just wondering,” I began cautiously, deciding to change the subject. “I noticed on the trip here that you seemed a bit more, well, friendly than some of the others. You seemed a little more chill, and not as hard. Have you been here long?”
“Over six centuries,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Six hundred years?” I almost swallowed my tongue. “No way! You don’t look near that old.”
He chuckled, surprising me. “I suppose not. When one is immortal, the years do not mark his countenance.”
“Yeah, but if it’s possible, you still seem…I don’t know…younger, somehow, than most of the others. Like the High-Chief. Or Lord Contrey, for instance.”
“They have lived far longer than I.”
“How much longer?” I asked suspiciously.
Deep Simathe eyes held mine fearlessly. “The High-Chief has attained to over three thousand years of age. Lord Contrey, far more than that.”
“You’re kidding me!” I was shocked, dazed. “You have got to be kidding me.” I braced my forehead on my fingertips, trying to process such a thing. “Three thousand years. Three thousand! How is that even possible?”
“In terms of your people, it is not,” Cole shrugged. “But we are Simathe, not human.”
“That’s for darn sure,” I agreed wryly.
Three thousand years. Three. Thousand. Years. That’s—that’s just mindboggling!
“So, if you’ve been here six hundred years, how long have you been a warrior?” I asked. “Once you grew up, or what? How does all that work?”
He was pretty good at taking my foreign dialect in stride and didn’t seem bothered by my questions. “I have been a warrior for some years,” he answered slowly. “Many to you, perhaps, but few to us. Simathe are trained in much more than the arts of war. Until recently, I followed other pursuits.”
“Other pursuits? I didn’t know Simathe had them.”
“You would be surprised,” he answered drily.
“But you’re a full-blown warrior now?”
“I am.”
“Are you a lord, like Contrey or the Chief Captain?”
“Oh no,” he shook his head. “To be a lord among Simathe is a distinction few earn. I’ve not yet merited that right.”
“How long before you become one yourself?”
“Time knows if I will.”
My mind had been leaping with a hundred different concepts during our exchange. Putting two and two together, I posed my theory to Cole.
“Those Simathe here, who are more like servants?”
“Aye?”
“Well, are they men who haven’t started training to become warriors? Or maybe they’re following other pursuits, as you called them?”
“We each have our own duties, but you are mostly correct. My lady is clever.”
“Clever?” I snickered. “I doubt your High-Chief would agree with you on that.”
He blinked once as if the notion had never occurred to him.
“Disparage not the High-Chief, my lady,” he said gravely. “No Simathe attains his position without much experience, much wisdom, much discretion. It would be prudent to place your trust in him, not belittle him. After all, he did Join with you.”
I heaved a sigh, rolling my eyes toward the blue sky. “Thanks for the reminder, but I really don’t know why everyone acts as if I should be so grateful that his lordliness deigned to Join with me. It’s not like I asked or wanted him to.” I stared the warrior straight in the eye. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. All I’ve ever wanted since arriving in Aerisia was to leave.”
He handed me my bow, saying soberly, “But you may not, for you are needed here. Furthermore, my lady, you should be thankful that the High-Chief Joined with you. Humbled, even.”
“Humbled? Uh, I hardly see why.”
“Enough.” Obviously he disapproved of both my ignorance and ingratitude. “I was sent to oversee your training, not to bandy words. Best we begin.”
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