“You believe—” Fury distorted Edmund’s features. In the next moment, he punched Amaya in the face.
She had not been expecting the blow, and it rocked her back on her heels. Startled, she dropped to a crouch, and the second blow passed harmlessly over her head. She rose from her crouch in an explosive leap and took Edmund around the waist, bearing him to the ground and pinning his arms to his side. He was strong, but at the moment, she was stronger.
He struggled against her grip briefly, then wrenched himself free with a twist of both wrists she was unfamiliar with. He grabbed her by the upper arms and sat up, driving his forehead at the bridge of her nose. She twisted to one side, and his head struck her cheekbone, sending a shooting pain through the side of her face.
She broke his grip with a shrug and leaped backward, still keeping herself between him and the door. “Edmund, stop,” she gasped. “Stop. You must feel different.”
Edmund growled and rushed her. She did not dare step out of his way, so she let him shove her into the wall beside the door. She took his face in her hands and said, “This is real, this anger. What she did to you is not. Please, Edmund, tell me you can feel the difference.”
He blinked at her again, and his grip slackened slightly. “I—difference? What do you mean?”
Her eyes ached along with her heart. “We were Coerced, Edmund, into believing Mr. Valencia’s cause was just and right. It was all a lie.”
Edmund released her and stepped back. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I…” His eyes were wide, the whites showing all around the dark irises. “But his cause—no, Amaya, it is impossible—” His jaw tensed as if he were suppressing his revulsion, and Amaya’s heart ached for him.
“Remember,” she begged. “You must see now how false the feeling was. I felt it too, Edmund. But it was all a lie. All Coercion.”
Edmund rubbed his face with one hand. “I can feel it now. It was too perfect.” He turned away and staggered to lean against the dining table. “It is all so terribly obvious, and yet I remember how right it felt. How did you know?”
Amaya rubbed her sore cheek, choosing to hold onto that pain rather than Shape it away. “Don Balthasar knew,” she said. “He convinced me. He infuriated me, saying that another emotion may supplant a Coerced one. Anger, or fear…”
Edmund bowed his head. “And you made me angry.”
His words were so bleak tears came to Amaya’s eyes. “Oh, Edmund,” she said, despair once more surging over her. “Please, forgive me. I meant none of that, nothing at all—you are my dear friend, and I admire you, and—you must forgive me, you must, because I cannot bear your hatred!”
She buried her face in her hands and wept, unable to remember the last time she had done it. She had forgotten how it felt to cry, how her eyes were hot and wet at the same time, how her body shook, how her chest and throat ached. It was painful, and embarrassing, and she would not have stopped it even if that were possible.
To her utter surprise, arms encircled her, and Edmund drew her close to his chest and held her. “I know of no one else who would make such a sacrifice to save me,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
The ache in Amaya’s chest faded. She unfolded her arms from where they were pressed between their bodies and returned his embrace, reveling in the simple joy of human closeness. He was warm and strong and he smelled of sweat and horses, not unexpected given how much riding they had done in the past few days, and the smell reassured her because it was simple and homely and uncomplicated.
Then she became aware of his hands, how they touched her so gently, of his breath sighing across her forehead, and a different kind of warmth spread throughout her body. She turned her face to rest on his shoulder and sighed with pleasure. A flash of memory struck her, of lying quietly with Kichka on her pallet, how peaceful she had felt just as she felt now. Kichka could not be more different from Edmund; he was somber and serious and almost never laughed. And yet the feeling was the same.
Edmund shifted his position, but did not release her. “Forgive me for striking you,” he said. “I cannot believe I lost control so greatly that I could attack you. I am ashamed. Hitting a woman—”
“I am a warrior as well as a woman. Though yours was a foolish attack, and almost certainly arose from your Coerced state. Had I truly meant those things, I might have killed you.”
“True. Still, I beg you to forgive me.”
Amaya nodded, her face rubbing against his shirt. “We forgive each other, and will say no more about it, because what matters is what we will do next.”
“You said ‘she’ did this,” Edmund said. “You must mean Jennet. She is the Extraordinary Coercer responsible.”
Mention of Jennet sent cold fury rushing through Amaya’s veins, dispelling the peacefulness she felt. She stepped away from Edmund, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “There is no other possibility. She was present every time I felt that rush of emotion. And Mr. Valencia keeps her close beside him. I believe she is his tool.”
“You do not suggest she is not to blame?”
She felt a moment’s uncertainty that she refused to entertain. “It is her talent. She is to blame. But I believe Mr. Valencia has an equal portion of blame, since it is impossible she is doing it without his knowledge. Don Balthasar said Jennet makes Mr. Valencia’s rhetoric potent and irresistible.”
“Indeed,” Edmund said with a grimace. “Then what are we to do?”
“We must leave tonight,” Amaya said. “We will return to Madrid, I suppose, and warn the king or his ministers of what Mr. Valencia proposes.”
“We certainly cannot stay here. Suppose Jennet knows we are no longer Coerced?”
“I had wondered that myself. I do not know if it is possible, but it is not a risk we should take. If she Coerces us again—”
Edmund shook his head. “Surely now that we know of the possibility, it will not happen again. How can she convince us of a feeling when we know it is not true?”
“Again, I do not know what more a Coercer is capable of. I have no desire to find out.” Amaya turned. “We should hurry, before—”
The door swung open. Jennet entered. She stopped when she saw Amaya and Edmund, and swiftly scanned the room, no doubt looking for Valencia. The three stared at each other. Amaya felt as if she had unexpectedly come across a predator who might or might not be hungry.
Jennet’s gaze passed from Amaya to Edmund and back again. Her eyes narrowed. Then terror like Amaya had never felt before swept over her, making Heart and Need and Release contract painfully. She gasped, and heard Edmund cry out, an anguished sound as if his soul were being ripped from his body.
Jennet bolted for the door.
Chapter 18
In which negotiations commence, and the power of a Coercer is discussed
Horrors filled the shadows, unseen figures Amaya knew in her heart were there, ready to tear her flesh from her bones. She cringed away from the door, crying out and gasping for breath. Edmund staggered away from her, and she saw him curl up on the floor beside one of the armchairs before she closed her eyes and flung her arms over her head. Something was attacking—
She made herself raise her head and scan the room for threats. Nothing. There was nothing there but the shadows and Edmund, keening out his fear like a child. Amaya turned toward the door, which had swung shut. Fear still battered at her, but she ignored it. Memories of hiding in a cupboard surfaced and were swept away. She was no child, helpless against adults who would kill her. She was a jaguar warrior, and fear meant nothing to her.
She slammed the door open in time to see the outer door shut. Swiftly she crossed the little room and flung that door open as well. Jennet was halfway across the stable yard, running as fleetly as a non-Shaper could. Amaya snarled and raced after her, painfully shaping the muscles of her legs to give her a burst of speed nothing could outrun.
Jennet looked over her shoulder once. Her eyes widened. Then, to Amaya’s surprise, she slowed and turned around to
face her oncoming death. “Don’t,” she said in English. “He’ll die of fright if you kill me, because I will not release him.”
Amaya did not slow. She grabbed Jennet and dragged her to the low wall of the stable yard, forcing her up against it with her claws poised to tear Jennet’s throat out. Fear still battered at her, but distantly, something easy to ignore. Jennet regarded her unblinkingly, seeming unafraid, though Amaya could feel the woman’s heart pounding. “Release him,” Amaya said in English.
“No.”
Amaya’s claws drew tiny pinpricks of blood. “You will do it.”
“He is the only thing that stands between me and death. I will not. You will let me go, and he will go free. If I die, he will remain locked in his fears until he, too, dies.”
Amaya examined her face. Jennet seemed utterly certain of her words. Amaya wished she had some way to know if the Coercer was lying to her. But Edmund’s life was at stake. She withdrew her claws, but kept Jennet pressed against the wall. “I should kill you for what you did to us. What you have no doubt done to so many.”
“I will not justify myself to you,” Jennet said. “I did what I had to for my survival. You of all people should understand that.”
“I? I do not ever—have not ever Coerced someone into a belief that they feel what they do not feel. It is foul.” Amaya pushed a little harder, and Jennet gave out a low grunt of pain.
“You have killed in defense of yourself and others. I have never killed anyone. How does that make you my superior in character?”
“It—” Amaya shook her head. “I will not speak with you. Why do you not Coerce me now? Convince me to love you and let you go?”
Jennet said nothing. They stared at each other in silence for a time until Amaya became uncomfortable being the focus of Jennet’s strange light-colored eyes. Finally, Jennet said, “I choose otherwise. I do not obey every one of Alejandro’s commands.”
“You obeyed him when he told you to make us follow him. I cannot imagine what else you might do to us.”
“Can you not?” Jennet shrugged with some difficulty. “Alejandro wanted me to make you desire him so you would go to his bed willingly. I refused.”
It was like a blow to the chest, stunning Amaya. “I? But why? Why refuse?”
“I may be damned, but there are evils I will not partake of.” Jennet’s eyes on Amaya were unflinching. “And you are a fool, but you do not deserve that fate. Why did you care about keeping my secret? The other one? Why care about me at all?”
Amaya had almost forgotten there had been a time when she pitied Jennet. “Because I am curious. About who you are and why you pretend not to be female. About why you are in Spain with a revolutionary leader. I wanted to be your friend.”
Jennet laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “I have no friends unless I make them my friends, and that is unsatisfying. I am always aware they only like me because I have enthralled them.”
Amaya’s lips curled back in a snarl again. “You and I are not friends.”
“No. That is impossible.”
“And yet we speak friendly. As friends.”
“Because you are a fool. I know you will kill me as soon as I release your love.”
Amaya’s grip slackened. “Edmund is not my love.”
Unexpectedly, Jennet smiled. “Then your friend,” she said, but Amaya could tell she was suppressing some other comment.
She chose not to pursue it. “I swear I will not kill you if you free him.” It was a stupid, terrible promise, but she could see no alternative.
“You must let me go to him,” Jennet said. “I cannot Coerce someone I cannot see.”
Amaya hesitated for a moment. Then she changed her grip on Jennet to hold her by the right arm in a way that would dislocate the woman’s shoulder if she tried to escape. She marched Jennet back to the inn, saying, “If he has injured himself—”
“That fear will not kill him immediately,” Jennet said.
The way she emphasized “that” prompted Amaya to say, “Then there is a fear that will?”
Jennet glanced at Amaya. “There is,” she said, and her following silence was that of someone who would say nothing more no matter what Amaya did.
Edmund still crouched by the armchair, but he was on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. As they entered, he crawled two paces, raised his head, and said in a faint voice, “Amaya…run…”
Amaya sucked in a horrified breath. Edmund in a rage had been terrible to see. Edmund in the grip of terror broke her heart. That someone so strong could be reduced to that condition! She had to look away, feeling as if she had intruded upon him in his most vulnerable state.
She heard him draw in a deep breath, felt Jennet’s arm in hers stiffen briefly, and then there was the sound of someone getting to his feet. She looked back to see Edmund rising, pushing himself up with the chair’s assistance. His shirt beneath his arms and across his chest was dark with sweat, his hair disordered, but his eyes were clear, and the dread within Amaya gave way as her own distant fear subsided.
Edmund closed his eyes and tilted his head back, calming his breathing. Jennet tugged at Amaya’s arm, trying to free herself, but Amaya did not let go. “You promised,” Jennet said in a low voice, still in English.
Jennet’s words brought Edmund out of his reverie. He opened his eyes, and a furious expression swept across his face. “Kill her,” he said, his voice low and flat.
“I promised I would not,” Amaya said.
“That was a stupid promise. We cannot permit her to live.” Edmund strode toward them, one hand clenched into a fist.
Amaya held up a hand palm-first in a warding position. “Edmund. I swore.”
“But I did not,” Edmund said.
Jennet took a step forward, which was all the farther Amaya’s grip would permit. “I could make you believe you adore me,” she said. “I could convince you I am your dearest friend. I have not done either of those things.”
“And you believe that should make me trust you? Make me forget what you have done?” Edmund stopped within striking distance, his fist still clenched.
“No. I cannot be forgiven. I know this.” Jennet regarded him unflinchingly. “But if you leave now, no one will know it until morning, when you will be beyond Alejandro’s reach.”
“He cannot harm us as you have.”
Jennet tilted her head like a curious bird, as if Edmund had said something incomprehensible. “You think not? You do not realize the extent to which Alejandro has acted to ensure you follow him. It was not Enrico Solano’s men who killed that woman, your friend. Alejandro ordered her murder. He meant you—” She jabbed a finger at Edmund— “to die as well, but in his words, you are luckier than a cat.”
Amaya let go of Jennet’s arm. “That cannot be true. Why would he do that, when all he needed was your Coercion?”
“Because she was a Discerner, and immune to Coercion,” Jennet said. “She would have known it when I enthralled you, and might have acted to prevent you following Alejandro.” She shrugged. “What is one small death in the name of freedom? It is how he thinks. Now, you must leave.”
Amaya shook her head. “He will blame you for our flight.”
Jennet turned her gaze on Amaya, her lips quirked in a smile as bitter as her laugh. “Why should you care?”
Amaya did not have a ready answer for that. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and finally said, “I should not. But I do. Tell me why you do not make me Señor Valencia’s lover.”
“I know what it is like to be taken against one’s will,” Jennet said, “and I swore I would never do that to another woman.” Her smile deepened. “There are no laws for one such as I, so I must make my own. I will not kill with my talent. I will not Coerce feelings of love. And, it seems, I will not turn my talent on someone who has shown me mercy, however unwillingly.”
“That does not excuse you from all the other evils you have done,” Edmund said.
“I have not asked for fo
rgiveness or absolution,” Jennet said. “You cannot give them to me in any case. But if you are looking for reasons for my mercy toward you, perhaps I feel it redresses the wrongs I have done you in some small way to help you escape.”
Amaya stepped away from Jennet, knowing this left the woman free to escape, or at least gave her the illusion of freedom. Amaya could still outrun her. “Señor Valencia will be angry. Or is he not already angry that you do not make me love him?”
Jennet’s smile became amused, and her eyes lit as if in appreciation of a good joke. “Alejandro is clever, but he is not as intelligent as he believes, and he never doubts what I tell him my talent is capable of, or not. This is the first time he has asked me to enthrall a woman, and I convinced him the act of love is unsatisfying when one partner is only there because she has been Coerced. That is a lie, but a believable one. He was not happy, but he is very attractive to women, and I am certain he believes his wooing of you progresses nicely.”
Amaya felt ill. She recalled the many fond looks Valencia had turned on her, and imagined herself in his arms. No, it was impossible. Gratitude to Jennet welled up in her heart, replaced by anger that she should feel grateful that Jennet had not turned her foul Coercion upon her. “But he will know you are the one who makes us free,” she said. “We do not leave except you do not Coerce us more.”
“He does not know we encountered each other this evening. I will suggest that your emotions were overwhelmed in your attack on Don Balthasar, and that you found a way to free Mr. Hanley. Alejandro knows what will break Coercion, and he will believe my words because he cannot imagine I would ever lie to him.” Jennet pulled out a chair and sat at the table, resting one elbow on it. “You waste time talking. Go, now, before someone else comes and you are forced to kill to secure your escape.”
Liberating Fight Page 20
