The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

by R. K. Thorne

  Pooling their forces in Panar was quite possibly their last hope.

  Chapter 13

  Duty

  When they’d reached the inside of the cave, Niat had collapsed. From the running, the arguing, from all the walking that morning—everything—it was too much. She’d gone down and been asleep almost immediately on the rock floor of the steamy cave he’d found with a bright blue pool in the center.

  She awoke sometime in the early morning hours, before the sunrise. The warm, humid air around her confused her as to where by Nefrana she’d woken up, until she finally remembered stumbling in here the night before. The beautiful sound of the running water and the way it sapped into the air and dampened her gown all had probably helped to lull her to sleep; the symphony of echoing sound was astonishingly relaxing. She simply sat listening to it for a while. When had she slept so well? She couldn’t remember a time she’d slept better, and she was sleeping on solid rock.

  But where was Thel? She scanned the darkness—there.

  He was sitting up about a dozen feet across the cavern from her. His profile was outlined in moonlight, which trickled through a crack in the cave’s ceiling. She could just make out the barest suggestion of his forehead, his nose, his hand cupping his stubbled chin in the silvery light; he looked noble, thoughtful, pensive. Handsome. How had she ever thought any differently?

  “Thel?” she whispered. She sat up and stretched, her body aching.

  His face turned toward her voice. “I can’t believe they killed him because of me. I was trying to help.”

  “Thel—”

  “No need to gloat.” He held up a hand. “You were right, clearly. I should have stayed out of it and played the coward.”

  “Coward?” She was fully awake now. Had she not just saved him from five mages all by herself, including one giant snake? She stabbed a finger at him, not that he could see it. “Hey, I’ve lived my whole life hiding from danger. Don’t judge me for trying to stay alive.”

  He glared. She could tell, even in the low light. “Can I judge you for weighing your own life versus his and choosing your own?”

  “Oh, fine. Judge all you want. I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.”

  “I do understand,” he said quickly. “I just—”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know me, Thel.”

  “I—well, tell me then.”

  “What?”

  “Give me something to think of other than that sound.”

  Her heart leapt in sympathy for a moment. She’d forgotten it that quickly, slept peacefully afterward. A man’s throat was sliced, no big deal, time for bed.

  He shook his head. “What danger did you spend your privileged noble’s life hiding from?”

  Her sympathy evaporated, and she wanted to throw the sand at her feet in his face.

  “My father, among other things,” she snapped.

  His gazed hardened, intensified on her. She suspected the look wasn’t meant for her.

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died. When I was born.”

  “In childbirth?”

  “No. They caught her trying to smother me with a pillow. I was off to a nurse after that, then a governess. But my mother threw herself off a tower a week or two later. Or so they all told me. I don’t know how much of the story I can trust, but it seems true. I changed her. Made her sick.” Shouldn’t be a surprise, since she’d spent plenty of her life sick herself.

  His head hung lower now. He didn’t say anything. There was only the soft burbling of the water in the pool beside them.

  “They say she was never like that before,” she continued. “My father insisted he didn’t blame me, but I know he did. We never spoke.”

  “So who raised you then?”

  She shrugged. “In some ways I raised myself. But I had one governess for quite a while at the end. I was a fairly ill little girl. Peluna was the one who suggested the temple could get me away from my father. She taught me a little, but mostly she taught me what to be afraid of. And she was afraid of everything, saw evil in everyone. Perhaps that’s why she pushed me toward the church.” Peluna had especially been afraid of men, Niat recalled, thinking of the way the woman’s rough knuckles would whiten on the arm of her chair when Lord Sven came near. “Some of her fears were realistic. Some not so much. It was hard to distinguish as a thirteen-year-old.”

  It still was, truth be told.

  “She taught me poisons. To defend myself, she said, as I’d surely need to. And other tricks and tools of a… less than honorable trade she had once been employed in.”

  His head snapped up. “That sounds… inappropriate for a governess to teach her—”

  She snorted. “She wasn’t a courtesan. She was an assassin and a poison taster in Takar.”

  “Ah. Useful skills. I am relieved on your behalf.”

  “I suppose the other skills would be useful, someday, if taught in a more appropriate setting,” she muttered. What the hell was she saying? She cleared her throat, glad he couldn’t see her cheeks were flushed hot. She was supposed to be telling him off, letting him know why he was an ass for questioning her instinct to preserve her own life. And instead she was flirting? She cut short the slight smile that had crept onto her lips.

  “When my blood moon came, it was like some kind of debt had come due. My father persisted in attempting to marry me off to the highest bidder and be rid of me. At least his greed made him hold out a bit for a higher price.”

  At that, Thel threw up his hands. “As if he’s short on money. Not that there’s any justification for such behavior.” He scooted a few feet closer to her, but still under the moonlight.

  “Well, you don’t see how much he spends on wine. I think he still missed her, under all that vileness.”

  “Hmm.” Thel didn’t sound like he cared much for that excuse.

  “This set my father and my governess at odds. Peluna was absolutely positive that a husband would be the death of me, and I don’t know, maybe she was right.”

  “I would think your father has plenty of resources to protect you.”

  “To do that, he’d have to choose to use them, though. Or care to.”

  Thel snorted. “I still think she was wrong. Marriage is not death for most people.”

  “Perhaps. But especially considering what happened to my mother, I’m inclined to agree with her. My luck clearly hasn’t been good so far.”

  “I think you are due a turn of luck in your favor.”

  There she was smiling again. Damn it. “Do you, now? Let’s hope.” He almost seemed like he might be smiling over there. He scooted another foot closer again.

  “Did your father succeed in his quest to marry you off?”

  “No. Peluna and I were able to get the temple to accept me before he found a suitable price. I’m sure he’s still looking, though. Well, I suppose he thought he’d found a deal in Alikar. Lord Alikar, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He’s probably been stripped of that title.”

  “You think so?”

  “I don’t understand why you persist in being so unsure of the monarchy that rules the country you actually live in, but can’t you take my word for it? It’s my family, by the gods.”

  “My family has been nothing but a source of terror, betrayal, and insecurity.”

  He ran a hand over his face, briefly illuminating contours of pain further.

  “See, I told you you didn’t understand,” she said, feeling less triumphant than she’d thought she would.

  “Just because it hasn’t happened to me—”

  “There’s more,” she said quietly, holding up a hand.

  He stopped. “More? Niat, I’m so—” He actually got on his hands and knees now and crawled toward her. Her heart was pounding. Why was it pounding? Why were her eyes glued to every shift of his tall, powerful form in the moonlight?

  He stopped just beside her and held out a hand, just barely visible in the dim light. S
he looked away, hoping that would rebuff him and also hoping that it wouldn’t. But she also moved her hand toward his, hesitating.

  His hand closed, warm and smooth, over hers. She smiled. Not a soldier’s hand, that was for sure, but she imagined it would feel good against—

  She focused on the dirt, still looking away. “When I got to the temple, I was finally free of them. But I got sicker. And sicker. I was frequently weak, couldn’t eat, feverish, and none of the priestesses could determine what was wrong.”

  His fingers squeezed hers.

  “That was when the visions started.”

  “Visions? Of what?”

  She took a deep breath. Of you, among other things, she thought. “War, mostly. Anonil. I told you of those. But there are others. I’ve seen… many battles. Some of them are ancient, some of them— I don’t think they’ve happened yet. Many deaths.”

  She turned finally to meet him. His eyes were brighter in the moonlight than she’d have thought, and they locked with hers. They were concerned, the blue pale like precious glass in the darkness.

  “The thing is, visions don’t start so late. Shouldn’t. Seers don’t come into their power so long after blood moons. I should have been having visions my whole life.”

  He frowned. “But you hadn’t. Are visions supposed to make you sick?”

  She shook her head. “No. But as the priestesses started to acknowledge what I was—am—must be—whatever, I realized there was one explanation that made sense. There was a poison Peluna had taught me about, called pale dove. A pink powder. It’s supposed to be fairly tasteless if a little sweet, and it’s highly addictive. It makes you mildly weak and feverish, and it suppresses visions of all kinds.” She ran the back of her hand over her forehead. She was suddenly sweating even mentioning the stuff.

  “Someone was giving it to you? To suppress your visions?”

  She nodded. “I can only think that it was Peluna, given all she knew. Now with each vision, I go into withdrawal, craving the drug, and that lasts much longer than the visions. Perhaps I told her of the visions when I was very young, young enough not to remember, and she started it then. I don’t know. She could have taken me to the temple then, and if that was always her goal, why didn’t she? Why try to smother the visions away? She must have known they would return as soon as she and the drug left me.”

  “Did you ever ask her?”

  “I tried. Weak as I was, I went looking for her. She’d gone missing. Her rented room had been abandoned. No one knew where she’d gone. I fear my father took revenge on her, as in many ways she’d won in the raising of me, getting the priestesses to accept me into the temple and depriving him of his wedding bounty.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Then again, it could have been my father giving me the drug, or ordering her to do so. Maybe that’s why she had such handy skills. She could also have simply left. I shouldn’t blame him for something that I’m not even sure happened. Also… if she was so concerned for my wellbeing and wanted me in the temple for my own good, she could have easily done so. There was something more to it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, she could have told me about the drug. She must have known I’d figure it out once it wore off and the effects of the addiction took hold. I’d been on it for years. Who knew what it might have done to me to take something clearly harmful for nearly my whole life? Fifteen years? Eighteen? Who knows.”

  “Gods. How old are you, Niat?”

  “Twenty.”

  “That is a long time, indeed.”

  She studied his face thoughtfully, what she could see of it in the darkness anyway. She could more feel his presence now than see him, as his face was no more than a foot from hers.

  Huh. He had listened for a long time, not turning away. He hadn’t even mentioned himself, save that bare tangent about Alikar. People were usually more self-centered. And here he was trying to add pieces to the confusing puzzle of betrayal that was her life. Trying to help her put them together.

  “How long did it take to get over the addiction?”

  “I’m not sure I am over it,” she said quietly. “But after a year, the constant fever went away.”

  “A year? No wonder you’re so thin.”

  She blinked, her mouth falling open and searching for a clever retort. But nothing came out. She only had a sinking feeling, a sudden dizziness with all her discussion of those difficult days. She didn’t care what he thought of her; what did she care if he found her plain? What had they called her, a board? A rail? She didn’t care about any of that. Still, a surprising swell of disappointment hit her. She’d thought—he’d kissed her back, when she’d stolen that foolish moment beside the bear. No, no, what did she care? She didn’t want him. Or need him. Or…

  She glanced back at his blue eyes, then back to the sandy distance she’d been staring into. Now, that wasn’t true at all, was it.

  Was it. Don’t delude yourself, like Peluna or your father did.

  Best to move on with the conversation. Pretend it didn’t hurt. He hadn’t meant it in a hurtful way. She was thin, and it was because of the drug, both the withdrawal and all the years on it as well. But she couldn’t figure out how to go back to talking. Where had they left off? What had she mentioned and what had she forgotten to say?

  She glanced back at him and sensed he was frowning. “You’re pretty thin yourself,” she blurted instead.

  He laughed outright. “I know. Too much time with my nose in books, not enough time with arms heaving stones, I guess.”

  That explained the hands. And the vocabulary. She smiled down at her lap. “Or not enough time lifting forks in kitchens.”

  “That seems to go for both of us.”

  “Hey, I had a drug making me throw up half of everything I ate for years and years. What excuse do you have?” She grinned playfully, but his face fell at that. She supposed that was probably what he should do. Wouldn’t it be unkind of him to laugh at that? But damn her for ruining the moment.

  Especially to bring up vomit. Gods. This was becoming a bad habit.

  “Sorry,” she amended quickly.

  “Don’t be. I mean, you were right. I didn’t understand.”

  Her eyes widened as she gazed down at her lap, only to notice that his hand had come to rest over hers on her thigh. If this was the victory she’d been shooting for, she didn’t feel very victorious. She’d expected more shouting and bitterness and… less hand-holding.

  She was staring. Slowly, he started to withdraw his hand. Did he think it unwanted?

  She recaptured it with her other hand instead and brought his hand back into both of hers. It all seemed insanely forward, but what did she have to lose? And the darkness seemed to cloak her, hide her blushing cheeks, her tentative eyes.

  He didn’t object. In fact, he shifted closer again. The cold of a slight wind whispered around them, moaning as it hit the tiny crevices and holes in the caverns.

  “I’m sorry I judged you,” he said softly.

  “No, no, don’t be,” she muttered. “I’m just being stubborn.”

  “How so?”

  “I just… I’ve never known anyone who would put others ahead of themselves so readily, so frequently, with no ulterior motive.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. It’s amazing you survived your childhood at all.”

  “At first, I didn’t trust it. But I’ve come to see that, no, you actually aren’t looking to gain anything. You’re actually looking for the right thing to do.”

  “Well, I do it to save my self-respect. So I can look myself in the eye, so to speak.”

  “It’s just—when you act like that, it makes me defensive.”

  “Defensive?”

  “Yes. It makes me want to…” Stop you so you don’t get yourself killed. Be like you. Sacrifice like you—and for you. Be a better person, so that you… So that he would what? None of the words would come out, and her thoughts froze. “It makes
me want to tell you to stop being so damn virtuous,” she blurted. “You’re supposed to be evil, mage.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not what you were going to say first, was it?”

  She turned to face his crooked smile. “No, it wasn’t.” Just because she couldn’t get the truth to come out didn’t mean she wanted to lie. “You are supposed to be evil, though.”

  “Do you still really think that?”

  She shook her head. “No. I think your goodness is going to get you killed.”

  “Good. Between your father and your governess, I would have a lot to do to prove the true corruption of my soul. They’ve got a real head start on me. And I haven’t got any drugs or the ability to hire governesses or arrange marriages, so I believe I’m at a distinct disadvantage.”

  She realized abruptly she was staring into his eyes, his face so close she could feel his breath. She was just staring, saying nothing. She should respond. Something. Anything.

  “Yes,” was all she managed.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about such things.”

  “No, it’s fine. That wasn’t it. Don’t worry about it.”

  “What was this ‘it,’ then?”

  “Nothing.”

  He smiled crookedly again, but he seemed willing to let it drop. “Thank you for staying with me back there.”

  She shook her head again. “It was nothing.”

  “You were right to be wary. I was too harsh.”

  “No, no. It might have worked if they weren’t such bloodthirsty bastards. That wasn’t your fault.” She poked him in the shoulder to drive the point home.

  “Or they might have caught us and killed us too.”

  She lowered her gaze, but a bit of courage had taken root, a bit of honesty for just a moment. “No, I was glad to stay. You were right. I wish I were the kind of person who tried to choose his life over mine. I’m not that person yet, but… you make me want to be.”

  He frowned, as if surprised by her words. Had she truly been so opaque? She looked up at him through her eyelashes. His eyes were searching her face intently. She darted her gaze back down. It was too much. She couldn’t take the earnestness of his expression even in the darkness, those pale eyebrows, those soft blues. She tore herself away, turning so only her hair faced him, though she did not release his hand in hers.