by Anna Kashina
He stiffened.
“Are you all right?” she said quietly.
He slowly relaxed his shoulders and leaned back into the wall.
She reached for the Keepers’ vial. His eyes followed her movements. The thought of causing him excruciating pain made her quiver inside, but she knew she had to go through with it, and quickly, if she wanted him to make his best recovery.
The liquid was thick and stayed on like glue when she carefully brushed it onto the arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder. She was careful not to let her movements disturb the shaft too much, or to touch the skin around the wound. Then she screwed the lid back on and put away the vial.
“Ready?” she whispered.
He looked up at her. “Be careful not to cut yourself on the arrowhead. I’m not sure how much poison’s still left on it.”
She clasped his shoulder, holding him in a half-embrace as she reached behind him with her free hand toward the protruding arrowhead on the other side.
“Wait,” he said.
She paused.
“I can feel the poison taking hold. If I snap and go berserk, you must promise you’ll knock me out.”
She swallowed. “The healing will take much longer if I do.”
He turned and met her gaze within her half-embrace. His eyes were feverish. She could feel his hot breath on her skin.
“Promise me,” he insisted. “I don’t want to risk hurting you.”
“I promise,” she said quietly. Then she grabbed the arrow and pulled.
He gasped as the shaft moved through the wound, and she felt him shudder in her hold. She tightened her embrace, keeping him in place. When the arrow was through, she threw it aside and used her free hand to pull the wound closed on both sides.
Each of her movements shook him with a spasm that echoed in her body too, as if she were the one being hurt. Knowing his usual composure, she could only imagine what the pain was like. Tears stood in her eyes, but she took care not to let it affect her actions.
After she had done what she could, she eased him against the wall, keeping her hands on his shoulders to support him, ready to restrain him if needed. His eyes looked feverish, his pupils dilated from the pain so much that instead of their normal blue-gray they seemed black. He was no longer shivering, but she could see in his drawn face how the pain was draining him, robbing him of his strength. Dear Shal Addim, how long was this going to take?
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked quietly.
A ghostly smile creased his lips. He was beginning to look delirious, from the pain or the poison, she couldn’t tell.
“With you touching me,” he said, “I feel I’m in heaven.”
She swallowed. “Don’t joke. I know how much it hurts. I can feel it.”
“I’m not joking.”
She looked into his eyes searchingly. His pupils were still dilated. He was in pain, but he smiled as he met her gaze.
“I know you think I’m delirious,” he said. “And you’re right... I can feel it too. It’s much harder in this state to control my words and actions. Normally, I wouldn’t try to tell you how your touch makes me dizzy... like I’m dreaming and never want to wake up. Your skin... it smells like wild aemrock. Even if I held you in my arms all the time I could never get enough of your scent... If all it takes is some pain to have you touch me like this, I hope it never stops.”
She went very still, peering into his face. He was definitely driven by the poison. His eyes had a feverish gleam and she could see the skin of his bare arm ripple as he shivered. His wound was closing, but she could still see the entry point, with dry blood caked around it.
The look in his eyes was so unsettling, a mixture of tenderness and longing that made her heart quiver.
“When I am with you,” he said, “you make me feel complete. It’s like... we are meant for each other... Do you ever feel the same way?”
He was looking at her when he said it, but she wasn’t sure he could actually see her. Dear Shal Addim. She had heard that people in delirium said the strangest of things. Yet, she had also heard that delirium only forced people to speak their mind, revealing something they would never say otherwise.
Could he possibly mean any of this?
Like we’re meant for each other. Do I feel the same way?
“I know I am not supposed to fall in love,” he said. “But with you... I just couldn’t help it.”
Her skin prickled.
In love.
Did he have any idea what he was saying?
Would he remember any of it?
Mai’s head rolled, his body shifting restlessly in her hold. She peered into his eyes, relieved to see them returning to their normal blue-gray as the pain receded. She let out a sigh, dropping her hands away from him and sitting back on her heels.
His eyes were feverishly bright. Even though he was talking to her, she wasn’t sure he was aware that she was actually here.
“I… I never meant to act on my feelings for you,” he said. “But that time... when you fought me and you got so close... I couldn’t possibly resist it... I should have controlled myself. I shouldn’t have shown you how much I wanted you... And later, I shouldn’t have provoked you... If I had stayed away...”
Provoked me. She had always felt she had been the one provoking him. He did show her during the fight that he was open to the possibility, but he never took any further steps until she drove him to it. And yet... back in Middledale, when he had taken off his shirt and left it where she could find it... when he had left the door to the bath chamber open, as if inviting her inside...Was he aware of the effect he had on her? Was it possible he did all these things on purpose, hoping that she would go after him?
Dear Shal Addim.
She suddenly realized that the thought that he might have controlled himself and stayed away filled her with dread. If he had, she would never have known what it was like with him. She would have missed the most enjoyable moments of her life.
“You are so innocent,” he said, “and I... I took advantage of it. And now... I’ve confused you. I should have known better. You are probably regretting it... I know I should be regretting it too, but I can’t. You’ve given me happiness beyond my wildest dreams. I always hoped... I could save you by laying down my life... I just never thought you would end up sharing my fate.”
His eyes held such longing that she felt a lump in her throat, unbidden tears rising to her eyes. Whether or not he was aware of what he said, whether or not he would remember any of it tomorrow, she felt she was hearing something he never wanted her to know. And yet... If he meant any of it, it concerned her so closely. She felt a tingling in her stomach, as if falling, at the mere thought he could actually be telling the truth.
She picked up his hand and pressed it to her cheek. She wasn’t sure he could understand what she said, but she wanted to say it anyway.
“I don’t regret a thing,” she said. “Given a choice, I would do the same, over and over again. And now... the only way you can save me is by staying alive. Promise me you’ll do everything you can to survive.”
His eyes focused on her face. For a moment he seemed almost sane.
“I promise,” he said.
She shivered. Could he understand her? Was his delirium over?
She peered into his eyes, searching for glimpses of sanity, but saw none. He looked dazed as his gaze drifted to his hand she was still pressing against her face. His palm shifted in her hold, cupping her cheek, tracing it with his thumb in a gentle caress. As she released his hand, he brushed it through her hair to the nape of her neck. She gasped. She had never realized how sensitive it was back there, his touch echoing through her like a charge of lightning.
He had always been so controlled around her, never initiating any intimacy unless she drove it first. And now, the delirium of the poison was stripping away his restraint. She felt as if she was prying, witnessing a private side of him she wasn’t meant to see. Against reason, it fel
t even more arousing to see him like this, when his superb self-control was no longer governing his actions.
His eyes trapped her, his hand on her neck warm and light, and toned in a way that made it unthinkable for her to escape his hold, even if she wanted to. She melted into his touch as his fingers found the right spots. She couldn’t tell if he was aware of what he was doing, but it felt so good that she didn’t care. She vaguely wondered at the wisdom of being so close to him, so that if the poison drove him berserk she would be vulnerable to his attack. But, danger or not, she wouldn’t move from her current position for anything.
His other hand caught her wrist. His lips brushed the tender skin on the inside of her arm as he rested it over his shoulder. He pulled up her sleeve and planted a kiss in the crook of her elbow, inhaling deeply.
Inadvertently, her hand slid into his hair, caressing him. She sensed his shiver as he pushed away from the wall, kneeling in front of her. His hands moved down her back, trapping her in a half-embrace, his touch sending pleasure spiraling through her every nerve. Dear Shal Addim, how does he know exactly where to touch me? She briefly closed her eyes, weakness spreading from the pit of her stomach, her body yielding to him even before she could give it any conscious thought.
And now, with this hold, he had her trapped completely, so that if he lost control and tried anything violent, in her dazed state she couldn’t possibly defend herself at all. The thought of being in his power was so arousing. His closeness was like a spell, robbing her of her own self-control. Perhaps she was poisoned too?
He lifted his face to hers, mere inches away, his breath making her skin tingle with anticipation. His pupils were dilated again. She could see reason in his eyes surface and recede, as if he was struggling with consciousness, holding back, finding the strength to let her go.
She held still, trying to quiet her racing heart. Her entire body wanted him to go on, but her mind was screaming caution, telling her to stop. He was delirious, about to become violent from the poison. She would be crazy to allow him to have his way with her in this state, when he couldn’t possibly control his actions.
She could sense the last bits of his control slipping away as his touch became more powerful, his hands claiming her in a way they never had before. Yet she marveled how, even in this semi-conscious state, he still held back, as if trying to give her a choice. Perhaps it was this hesitation, more than anything else, that drove her on, making her feel as if, despite his daze, despite the danger he posed in this state, the choice was still hers. And, as she thought about it, she realized that she had made her choice already. No matter what he was going to do to her, she couldn’t possibly stop.
She felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach, as if stepping over the edge into an abyss, as she yielded to his embrace. His eyes lit up with a deep carnal glow as his muscles flexed and hardened, pulling her into his arms.
We shouldn’t be doing this here, was her last sensible thought. And then his scent enfolded her, his hands so strong and passionate in their near-violent caress that she couldn’t possibly hold back anymore. She responded, no longer sure which one of them was driven by the poison. Her mind was clouded just like his. This was madness, and she couldn’t possibly resist it.
She had only a vague memory of how she ended up with her clothes off, with him upright and inside her, driving into her with a strength that sent her over the edge again and again, until she could no longer tell which one of them was convulsing and if this was ever going to stop. She didn’t know how much time passed before she came back to her senses and realized that they were still in the prison cell and that she was now sitting in his lap, naked and open, with his arms around her. He still wore all his clothes and that made her feel even more vulnerable, a feeling she had never believed possible to experience with any man. She turned and shifted her weight so that she could relax against his chest, inhaling his pine scent, never wanting the moment to end.
You make me feel complete, he’d told her. She suddenly realized that it was exactly how she felt around him. Complete. They made an invincible pair. Nothing could possibly happen to them while they were together.
17
WEAPONS KEEPER
Mai had his eyes open, but showed no awareness of his surroundings. Kara knew this was an effect of the poison too, an apathy that followed the violent stage. If Black Death were to run its normal course, he would eventually drift off and die, without ever waking up. She prayed that Magister Egey Bashi was right and that wasn’t going to happen.
She eased him down onto a cloak she spread over the floor. Her clothes were scattered around the cell, ripped but still usable. She put them on and lay next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Exhausted, she dozed off.
She woke what felt like minutes later from a distant click of the courtyard gate, followed by hasty footsteps over the cobbles. She slid off along the wall, to the edge of the moonlit circle falling from the grate into the cell. From this position she could see the newcomer without betraying her own actions.
As she watched the tall, slightly stooping figure take shape against the dark outline of the distant gateway, she saw a movement in the darkness to her right and spun around to see Mai, sitting up, watching her intently.
“Are you back?” she asked quietly.
He nodded.
She let out a small sigh of relief. “It may be better if you stayed hidden. Let whoever is coming think you’re near death.”
He nodded again and subsided into the corner, lying back down onto his cloak. She saw his hand resting next to his staff, relaxed, as if the closeness were merely accidental.
He was putting on a good bluff. If he were shot and dying of poison, he would probably look just like that. Looking at him brought an inadvertent blush to her cheeks. Did he remember what had happened? Or was he so delirious he was not even aware of his actions? If so, perhaps it was for the best. And yet, the things he had said to her just couldn’t leave her mind. Had he meant any of it?
The approaching man looked familiar, and older than she originally thought. As the shadows around his face took shape from the depth of his hood, she stifled a gasp of recognition.
“Master Abib?”
The old weapons keeper had been in the Guild for as long as she remembered. His job of overseeing the crafting and care of the weapons made him indispensable, but for Kara he had always been more. Since childhood, he had been the man who understood her best. He was the one she had always gone to, with all her sorrows and frustrations, until the completion of her training distanced her from these feelings once and for all.
Abib approached the grate and peered inside, fumbling with the keys on his belt. He cursed as he undid the locks placed by the Jades, one by one. Then he swung the grate open and quietly slipped inside.
Kara watched him with wide eyes. Abib had the Guildmaster’s ear and was the closest to what Oden Lan could ever call a friend. Had he sent Abib to spy on them? The thought made her heart quiver. She suddenly realized that the worst part of being expelled from the Guild was not the loss of her privileges and rank, but the knowledge that her old friends and comrades would now view her as an enemy and follow orders to fight against her.
Abib stopped in the center of the cell and set down his lantern, glancing around. His eyes paused on Mai, who lay still by the wall with no indication of whether or not he was awake. Then, Abib stepped forward and lowered to the floor by the wall next to Kara.
“I came to inspect your weapons,” he said, “and to bring you this.” He held out two throwing knives. “I heard you lost two of yours this afternoon. You’ll need a full complement tomorrow.”
She couldn’t help feeling warmth flow over her as she took the knives from his hand. They were of the best steel, perfectly balanced. Probably even better than the ones she lost, which had already seen some action and had not been polished in over a week.
“Thank you, Master Abib,” she said.
He nodded, reaching forwa
rd to pick up her weapon, leaning against the wall.
She stiffened. If he had come here with bad intentions, meddling with her weapon would be the best way to sabotage tomorrow’s tournament. She watched him warily as he placed her black three-foot-long staff across his lap, pulling a narrow sword from each end in a smooth move that told of intimate familiarity with the weapon.
It was called a hagdala, a fighting staff that doubled as a sheath for two blades, making this weapon one of the most versatile amongst the Diamonds. Abib had personally overseen its crafting in the last stages of her training, months before her ranking tournament. Memories flowed as she watched his long fingers run along the edge of the blade. To her knowledge he wasn’t doing anything unusual, just a routine inspection he had done so many times when she had left for an assignment or prepared for a serious fight.
“I spoke to Magister Egey Bashi,” Abib continued, as if oblivious to the tension. “He told me that by morning Aghat Mai will make a full recovery.” He glanced into the corner, where Mai’s shape was barely visible against the wall.
“He did?” Kara was surprised. She was certain Egey Bashi wouldn’t give this information to anyone he didn’t consider fully trustworthy. She was surprised he would confide in Master Abib. Everyone knew how close Abib was to the Guildmaster. Was this a trap?
Abib tested the balance of her blades and sheathed them, reaching over to inspect her belt with the throwing knives. He frowned as he found a chipped one and replaced it with another he took from his own belt. Then he sighed, raising his face to meet Kara’s gaze.
“Times have become twisted indeed, if you can look at me with such distrust, Aghat Kara. I came here as a friend.”
“Why?”
He shook his head. A smile lit up his face, but the deep lines around his mouth also held sadness.
“Because I think what has happened to you is unfair. I have great respect for Master Oden Lan, and I am certain that when he awakes from his madness he will deeply regret all of this.” He glanced around the cell. “I want to make sure his regrets are minimized.”
