Across the Divide: (Alitura Realm Book 2)

by J. K. Holt

  It maintained a constant, unyielding assault for an hour before Loren’s horse slid, bracing itself by pushing its rear into the air while its front legs flew forward, effectively throwing Loren over its head. He yelled quickly, the sound of shock and then fear, as his rope came untied from the horn and he tumbled forward to land in a heap on the ground. He screamed, rolling to his side as he clutched his foot.

  Fish was the first to dismount, running to Loren’s side and sliding to a stop next to him. He pushed Loren’s hand away and inspected the area as Loren swore and muttered beneath his breath.

  “What’s that?” Rosie asked, pulling up alongside them. She and Tess remained on their horses. Tess suspected Rosie did so to maintain the power position, but Tess was worried that if she slid from the saddle now, she’d be mounting back onto a cold and slick seat. The idea of it was almost too difficult to bear alongside her already existing discomfort.

  “I said if my hands were free, I wouldn’t have fallen,” Loren grunted.

  “You poor darling,” Rosie said drily. “Fish?”

  “He’s hit his ankle on a rock. I can’t tell if it’s broken or just bruised,” Fish responded, still holding Loren’s foot as he prodded the flesh with his fingers.

  “Let’s mount him back up again then. Can you do it, Fish?” Rosie asked.

  “Yes,” Fish said, gently releasing Loren’s foot as he began to stand.

  “Untie me, then, so this won’t happen again,” Loren replied, holding his hands out to Fish in what could be interpreted as a supplicating pose.

  Rosie snorted before Fish could respond. “Not on your life,” she said.

  Loren screamed, a banshee wail that permeated the sounds of precipitation. “That’s enough! I’ve gone along with you, not uttered a word of protest. I couldn’t escape now if I tried, not with my foot this way. You can’t treat me like this forever. I’m not an animal!”

  “Aren’t you?!” Rosie yelled, matching both his pitch and fervor. “How can you possibly think you’ve the moral high ground? After what you’ve done to Russ?”

  “I didn’t torture him! I didn’t kill him!”

  “Didn’t you, though?!” Rosie’s dark hair hung, sodden and dripping, her imposing figure calling to Tess’s mind an Amazon warrior. Her eyes blazed, her aura tinged and rippling with red.

  “No.” Loren pushed himself to his feet, leaning against his horse as a crutch. “Blurring someone isn’t the same as killing them. And it didn’t cause him pain. I didn’t torture him,” he repeated. “He felt nothing. And what I did to him wasn’t motivated by hate, or some misplaced sense of justice. It wasn’t personal.”

  Tess kissed her teeth but held her tongue. She moved her horse slightly, so that it angled between Loren and Rosie, forcing Rosie to meet her eyes. Rosie turned the furnace of her hate onto Tess, and she winced but stayed her position. She tried to convey in her eyes that she felt Rosie’s pain, but that they couldn’t slow. Not now.

  After a long moment, Rosie grunted in disdain, turning her horse around to trot ahead of them. Tess turned her attention back to the others.

  “You may not be able to escape on foot, but by horse should still be easy enough. Fish, can you help him back onto the horse?”

  Fish sneered but nodded, giving Loren a not-so gentle foot up into the saddle. Loren cast him a quick, questioning glance but remained quiet as he returned his eyes to her, waiting.

  “There’s a length of rope in one of Posie’s saddlebags, right?” Tess said, indicating the bay that was one of their carrier horses. “Could you fetch it?”

  Fish grasped her meaning and silently retrieved it, tying one end to the side bag of Loren’s horse, then moving to tie the other end to his own. “No, Fish,” Tess said. “Tie him to Tommy. I can ride astride Loren’s horse, so you can still follow behind.”

  After a brief hesitation, Fish did as Tess said, finishing the job quickly. Rather than bark another order, Tess formed her last request as a question. “Do you think it’s safe to untie his hands now?”

  Fish frowned and then shrugged. He pulled a knife from his pack and sawed through Loren’s bindings until they fell away, and then he stowed the knife and stalked back to his horse.

  By now, Rosie had returned. She seemed uninclined to continue her exchange with Loren, though she sneered at his released hands, shaking her head at Tess but brooking no further argument. “We can’t stay out in this much longer,” she said to Tess. “I was hoping to make it twenty miles further at least before we stopped, but that isn’t going to be feasible. We’ll need to stop soon, at least until this weather subsides.”

  Tess nodded. “Do you know any place nearer to take shelter?”

  “A farm or two, I think. Several miles down the road, but that will have to do. There’s no shelter to be had out here, and we need to get the horses dry before they fall ill. Let’s get on with it, then.”

  Rosie spurred her horse and continued in the lead, intent to put several paces between herself and the others, but she stayed within view. Fish kept himself closer to their rear, in case of trouble, but Tess doubted Loren would give them any. He kept flexing his hands and massaging his wrists. Tess noticed they were rubbed raw, bleeding in some places, and again felt a pang of guilt towards his treatment. Still, he had said something that was irritating her.

  “You tortured me,” she said.

  Loren turned his eyes to her, more hollow than shark-like at the moment. “Pardon?”

  “You said that you didn’t torture Russ. That may be true. But you tortured me. Or had you forgotten?” Tess said.

  She caught the recognition in his eyes, and the brusque shake of his head. “I did it for a purpose. Not because I found it enjoyable. I’m not a monster. If you’ll recall, I intended to blur you before drowning you. I could have just told them to toss you overboard, with all of your faculties still intact. But that would have caused more pain than necessary.”

  Tess mulled over his words. “Regardless. Your motive does not make torture acceptable.” A small voice in the back of her head reminded her that the group was willing to torture Loren for information, and Loren spoke the same thought aloud to her now.

  “It does. It does when it’s for a greater purpose. Sacrifices need to be made sometimes,” he said, the words wooden and hard as they emerged, as if he was putting more effort into affecting nonchalance than usual.

  “Sacrifices for what?” Tess pressed. “What greater purpose?”

  Loren ignored her, as she might have expected. She let the question hang in the air a few moments longer, and then glanced back to determine if Fish was in hearing distance before refocusing on Loren.

  “One other thing. It may not have been personal to you, all the people you’ve hurt. But for you to say that to Rosie, whose brother is gone, or to me, whose ribs you played before you left me to be touched by Bram, a monster if there ever was one…” She shivered, uncertain if it was the thought of Bram running a hand down her body or the driving cold that had done it.

  At mention of Bram, Loren studied her. Revulsion flickered across his features, though she wasn’t sure if it was the idea of Bram hurting her or being interested in her at all that had done it. She pushed it aside and continued, turning her eyes to the path ahead.

  “Well. That would all be enough, if you’d said it to us. But then, to say that to the man who fell in love with you, the man who might still love you, only to find out that he was just another pawn in your game… I think that might very well push you into the realm of monster. For what it’s worth.”

  Her words hung in the air, and Loren did not reply. She turned her head, focusing on the slippery route ahead as they rode, unwilling to turn back to Loren and determine if she’d wounded him. But from the corner of her eyes, his aura seemed to fade. She wondered again at his capacity for feelings, for empathy for his common mankind, and whether there was more beneath the dark eyes and harsh face. And then she wondered for a long time about whether it would be
worse if she realized that Loren was, in fact, just another person, capable of both good and evil.

  They rode for an hour more in silence, aside from the occasional braying of the horses and the snick of the sleet as it fell, before finding a place to stop and rest.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Tess missed hot showers. The kind where you turned the tap as far as it would go and let the hot water scald you until your skin turned pink, driving away the deep cold that had nestled against your bones, the pain of the heat both deep and pleasurable. Or the long bubble baths, immersed in the stillness of the liquid that held you as the foam popped quietly around you. Eyes closed, head tilted back, absorbed in the feeling of a strong embrace. Tess used to sit for hours, turning on the tap with her toes whenever the water cooled slightly, reading books while the pages slowly rippled from humidity. She and Maggie had both been bath lovers.

  Thus, it was understandable that she greeted the bucket of lukewarm water before her with a groan. With lackluster enthusiasm, she stripped and washed, though the water instantly cooled on her flesh, goosebumps erupting along her arms and legs. Oh, to have a long hot bath. She allowed herself the indulgence of the fantasy for a moment before getting back to the task at hand, painful as it was. She’d hung her sodden riding clothes along a line provided near the fireplace, hopeful that they’d be dry by the next morning. Tess dressed quickly, pulling her shirt over her head, and noticed with surprise that she could feel her ribs as she tugged it down. This short time on the road had begun to wear on her- she was gaunter than she’d been just a week ago. Back when Gowan was bringing her warm scones for breakfast, and she’d sneak treats from the bakery’s leftovers when she was sitting on death duty with a comatose Loren.

  She was startled to realize this was the first time she’d thought much about Wharfton, and those she’d left behind. The journey of the last few days, compounded by fears of Loren’s escape or Rosie’s mutiny, had pulled every reserve of emotional energy Tess had. Now, though, as she sat close to the fire and attempted to warm herself, she spared a thought for them.

  She hoped Gowan was well, and not beside himself with worry; that Emme and Ashe might be able to grow closer again, and were leaning on each other for comfort. She considered poor Russ and wasn’t sure what to hope for, so instead she thought of his parents, wishing them peace as they struggled with a son devoid of life and the absence of his twin sister. And Tulla- they’d not been the closest, but still, Tess respected her. To have lived her life, losing her husband, and now with her sons in constant peril- well, Tess felt for her.

  Dray was more painful to consider. She wondered if he was livid with her for leaving, pulling Rosie and Fish along with her and removing Loren from his grasp. Had it felt like a betrayal? Had he understood? And even if he had, by now he must have been told the truth by either his mother or Gowan. It had to be done, she knew that. Still, though. He couldn’t care for her anymore, not the same way. She knew she’d need to grieve that loss at some point, but had to set it aside for the time being. No use dwelling on it now.

  She’d keep telling herself that until it sunk in. Right now, the ache it created was undeniable.

  Rosie entered the room without knocking. Tess frowned but didn’t comment. Rosie heaved another bucket of water into the room, setting it beside the one Tess had used. Tess eyed the steaming water jealously.

  “I got the cook to heat another pot- wasn’t ready until now,” Rosie said, her voice defensive in response to Tess’s face. “Fish says Loren’s ankle just looks bruised, but it’s hard to tell. It’s swollen and ugly looking, I’ll grant you, but that doesn’t mean he still won’t take advantage if we show him kindness.”

  Tess ignored the implication. They’d bound Loren’s hands once again after they’d brought him up to the room he’d share with Fish, and he’d not shown one ounce of difficulty before then. “Kindness isn’t the same as weakness,” she muttered.

  “Isn’t it?” Rosie said.

  “No.” Tess stood, stretching her muscles from crouching position. “I’ll leave you to get washed.”

  They’d been fortunate to find the small but honest to goodness inn another hour up the road, complete with stable. Though it hadn’t felt lucky by the time they’d stumbled upon it, nearly frozen and unable to sit upright in their saddles. Tess had begun to worry about Tommy- he’d been dropping his head and snuffing loudly as if to clear his nose. She’d felt no small sense of reassurance to lead him into a warm stable with dry hay and had spent nearly an hour cleaning him while Rosie saw to the other horses. She’d mumbled soothing words, even at one point singing him a soft lullaby that Maggie had hummed to her as a child, more melody than lyrics. For that time, she’d forgotten about her own physical discomfort, and remembered how nice it was to worry about someone other than herself.

  Tess knocked softly on the door to the next room, and Fish opened it. “Hey, girlie,” Fish said, hair still mussed and damp. “Feeling better now you’re warm?”

  Tess shrugged. “Certainly better than I had been.” She stepped into the room. “Yourself?”

  “Aye,” Fish said. “I told Rosie I’d rustle up some food while she got clean. You alright in here?”

  Tess glanced to the bed that contained Loren. He lay with one foot propped on a pillow, hands in his lap, eyes closed. “I’m fine, go ahead.”

  She noticed this room, unlike hers, contained no fireplace, though it was still comfortably warm. She sat on the opposite bed, considering Loren as Fish closed the door behind him. “How’s your foot?”

  Loren did not open his eyes, but sighed theatrically. “It’ll heal, I suppose.”

  Tess massaged her own sore neck, kneading deeply with her knuckles. “No need to sound so upbeat about it.”

  “Why should I? I’m sure my living is a disappointment to you.”

  “Oh, please,” Tess groaned. “You know, where I’m from, what you’re doing right now is called a pity party. And I refuse to be invited.”

  At this, Loren cracked an eye open to stare at her. “Would you prefer that I thank you for showing me some small mercy? Grovel at your feet for crumbs?”

  “You know, they’ve literally written thousands of books to your particular weakness,” Tess said. “Pride is a terrible thing when taken to excess.”

  She couldn’t tell for certain, but it seemed that for a moment Loren’s mouth twitched into a facsimile of a smile. He turned his head away. “I’m tired,” he said.

  “Then sleep,” Tess said. “We don’t need to talk. I’m just the watchdog.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The three of them huddled in Tess and Rosie’s room near the fireplace as Loren slept, presumably, while tied to his bed. They’d agreed to check on him every five minutes, to ensure he did not get the drop on them, but Tess doubted he’d try it with his ankle the way it was. He could ride a horse, surely, but he had a flight of stairs and no small amount of walking before he could get to one. Besides, they were between him and the exit, and the walls were thin enough. They’d hear him if he caused a commotion.

  “Let’s make this quick,” Rosie said. “Once we get through whatever else you feel like unloading on us, we still need to decide what to do about Barrowville after that. And I’m exhausted.”

  “As we all are,” Fish agreed. “But this will take whatever time it needs, Rosebud.” He pushed himself closer to her, resting his hand on Rosie’s own, and Tess was shocked at the gesture, as well as the nickname. The additional shock came from Rosie’s reaction- she’d shook her head, but allowed Fish’s hand to remain where it was.

  Was this the alternate, but just as true, version of Rosie that Tess didn’t know? The one who shared sweet nicknames with her friends, who allowed kind gestures with grace? Fleetingly, she wished she’d known that Rosie.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll be quick. In fact, as we were riding today, the thought occurred to me that you all might have been able to piece together what little I haven’t told you.”


  Rosie pursed her full lips, hesitating a moment before chuckling. “Considering that I assumed and threw out about thirty different theories for what on earth could be going on with you, besides your story being true, I can’t honestly say that I contemplated what you’d be sharing with us next.”

  Tess appreciated Rosie’s honesty. “Did you come to any decisions? About either my capacity to lie, or my sanity?”

  Rosie merely shrugged. “I haven’t dismissed the possibility that there’s another option. But none of my theories held water upon further inspection, so… I guess I’ll withhold judgment for now. That’s the best I can do. Which doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she amended. “But whether you’re also a liar remains to be seen.”

  Tess glanced at Fish. “And you?”

  Sometimes, Fish could smile in a way that was so genuine, so gentle, that anything seemed possible. Tess remembered the first time she’d seen it- the initial gathering at the Spilling Inn, meeting Rosie, and Russ, and Fish…she’d been so nervous, full of misgivings and self-doubt, amongst strangers in a strange land. Then he’d given her that look, and it was like the sun had finally begun shining. There had been no ulterior motives, no sympathy. Just acceptance. The fact that he chose now, after the chaos and pain of the day, to give her that smile once again, nearly brought tears to her eyes.

  “I haven’t known you long, Tess,” he said. “At least, not in the grand scheme of things. A few months is a blink compared to some of the relationships I’ve cultivated in my lifetime.” Again, he glanced at Rosie. “But I trust you, somehow. And maybe I’m not the best judge of character, always…” He trailed off, and left Rosie and Tess to connect the dots to Loren. “But, other people I trust also trust you. Which gives me courage in my convictions. And though your story is… intense, and admittedly difficult to swallow, somehow it’s easier to believe than any other option. I don’t think you’ve lost your mind, or that you’re misleading us. Which leaves us where we are.”