by Lisa Morrow
He rose, his jaw clenching, the movement changing the pattern of the scars. “Can you stand?”
I struggled to prove I could, even though the effort left me winded.
When it took me too long, he swooped down, wrapping his free arm around my waist, and pulling me to stand.
I swayed on my feet and looked down at the ground. Around me, the snow was crimson; spreading out so far that I wondered that any blood was left in my body.
“What happened to you?” he asked breathlessly. His jaw had dropped open. His face twisted into horror and surprise, as he inched his way out of the blood that seeped out to touch his boot.
“I fell from the bridge.”
His grip tightened on my waist. “I heard the noise; I saw the pieces of glass fall from the sky. But when I saw you still breathing, I couldn’t believe you’d fallen from above.”
I shuddered in his arms.
His hold, as well as his tone, gentled. “How are you alive?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, and then I remembered the word I’d shouted as I fell. The word I’d whispered as I died. It was the name of the Goddess of Protection.
“The witches must have used their powers to protect you.” He brushed hair out of my face with such gentleness my breath caught in my throat. “They must want you alive.”
I exhaled loudly, trying to ignore the warmth left by his touch on my cheek. “That must be it.”
Lying felt wrong, but telling him the truth felt like too much, especially when just minutes before he’d had a sword to my throat.
“Can you walk?”
I nodded, although I wasn’t entirely sure.
His arm slid from my waist. It lingered protectively as I recovered my balance, and then he stepped further from me. “Good, because we’ve got a long way to go.”
I ran my hands along my body, searching for the source of all the blood beneath me, but saw nothing. My green dress and cloak was drenched in multiple places, but I was in one piece.
Moving my limbs, I took slow steps forward. My body ached, but nothing felt broken.
I stared at my hands. Was I really walking away from such a fall without a scratch? My stomach churned. I’d never heard of magic this powerful before, but perhaps it was the goddess’s name that was powerful, not me. I wish I understood this world of magic better.
“The only injury I see is the one I caused.” He drew closer to me, inspecting my neck with a look of immense regret.
“Is it bad?” I reached up and touched my neck, pulling away to inspect the blood on my fingertips.
“Here.” He pressed a pale blue handkerchief to my throat, then after a moment drew it away.
“It doesn’t look too bad.” He stared hard at my throat. “Although I think it’ll leave a scar.”
In that moment, I could’ve cared less about the stinging at my throat. All I wanted to do is go somewhere warm and sleep.
“I’m sorry,” he said, handing me the handkerchief without touching me. “I don’t normally hurt women, but Protectors, well they aren’t women.”
“Forget it.” I didn’t want to have this conversation now, not while I was trying my best not to sway on my feet.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his gaze raking over me.
“Rose,” I whispered, trying to keep my thoughts from showing on my face “Rosalyn Vidoryn. And yours?”
His eyes widened.
My words struck me with the force of a blow. Had I really just given him my full name? Never before had I been so careless, so foolish.
“My name’s… Asher Hant.”
Our eyes locked, and a strange tingle passed over my body. It was an unwise thing to give one’s full name. We’d both just taken a huge risk, an unwise one.
I wouldn’t use his name to harm him, but if he ever found a woman of magic, a Protector or a witch, and could determine how my true name should be spoken, I’d regret this moment for the remainder of my life. And yet, I’d be ignorant to believe the feeling stirring inside of me were all due to fear, and not something greater.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, concentrating once more on moving my stiff muscles.
The strange sensation of being watched swept over me as I squinted, peering at the fog above. I wanted to believe The Protectors would simply accept that I was dead, however, it couldn’t be so easy. Even though I could see nothing of the three women I could feel them, even from such a great distance.
Shivering, I forced my gaze back to the man. “Where are we going?”
He frowned, but his indecision only drew attention to the fact that he was remarkably handsome. “To a place where you can hide. Is that what you want?”
My heart raced. “Yes.” Until I can find a way to save Sirena.
Sirena.
Just thinking of her sent terror racing through me. She was still with those women. Would she be safe until I could return? And how could I save her, without just getting myself caught again?
My head ached. I needed to push away such impossible thoughts until I’d at least rested a bit.
He re-sheathed his sword, and swept his white cloak over his shoulders, hiding his dark clothes underneath. Then, he drew the hood over his head. “This way.”
I followed him without a word. My body hummed with pain at each step I took, but also the hard rock in my stomach eased. The women would likely search for me soon, and the further away I could get, the better.
The air grew colder as time passed. But in the valley, the wind wasn’t so fierce. My cloak offered me some protection, even though the wet spots of blood chilled my skin. We ducked beneath trees laden with snow, and climbed over boulders. He moved ahead of me with practiced ease, but waited patiently as I followed.
The valley I’d entered seemed to have been carved out of the world by the goddesses. Towering walls of rock rose from two sides of the valley as far as the eye could see. Each layer of the earth stood out along the wall in glorious reds and browns, except where a few scraggly trees and plants managed to take root and grow, showing tenacity just through their survival.
But the longer we traveled, the more my body ached. My back and sides pulled with every move until each breath I took was more a gasp of pain. At last, I stumbled and fell to my knees. I tried to rise with all my might, but each gasp became a sob.
Asher came back and knelt beside me. “We can rest for a time.” His voice was gentle.
I shook my head. “We shouldn’t. I can go on.” Tightening my muscles, I tried to rise. “Oh goddesses!”
He touched my arm. “You’re in pain.”
“I’m not,” I denied.
Pain could be overcome. Ignored. If a job needed to be done, a person simply needed to do it, not complain about it.
He didn’t speak for a long time, just sat beside me in the snow as I struggled to rise.
“I’m not weak.” I spoke between clenched teeth.
“Of course you’re not. You’ve just been badly hurt.”
I shook my head. “That’s not an excuse.” I tried to stand again. He gripped my arm and pulled me into his lap.
Sitting in his lap should’ve felt strange, but instead it simply felt right. Warm and safe and as natural as pinecone on a pine tree.
His arms wrapped around me. “Who taught you to be so…”
“Stubborn?” I finished, closing my eyes.
He held me tighter. “No.” His chest heaved with rapid breaths. “Who treated you so cruelly?”
His response shocked me. No one had been cruel to me. It’s just been my father and I for so long. He never struck me, never yelled, but nor did he speak words of love. Never was there a warm pair of arms to hold me against my sadness or loneliness.
None but Sirena’s, and now she was a prisoner.
“You’re trembling,” he said, holding me tighter.
And I was.
My body betrayed me, shook with the pain I refused to acknowledge. But I couldn’t let him think it was in fear
, or that I was some victim too afraid to tell the truth.
“No one ever hurt me.” I started, not knowing quite how to begin. “My mother left when I was three, and it destroyed my father. We spent our days in silence. When he wasn’t working our farm, he was drinking and whittling before the fire.”
Asher made a soft sound as he rested his chin on the top of my head, but said nothing.
So I continued, wanting to make sure he completely understood. “We worked alongside each other on the farm. And if I hurt myself, I just worked through it. I needed… I wanted my father to see he could count on me.”
His chin brushed my hair. “Your father should’ve been the one to show you he could be counted on. He shouldn’t have allowed his grief to overwhelm his responsibility to care for you.”
I met his steely gaze without thinking. Anger, frustration, and understanding all painted his face. And unlike my father, Asher held nothing back. Everything he felt was right there for me to see.
“So you don’t think,” I paused. Never before had I asked this question of anyone, not even Sirena. Why would I ask it to a man I barely knew? “I was lucky that he didn’t abandon me as some fathers might’ve?”
His mouth curled in disgust. “No. If I’d have been there, I would’ve told him to deal with his grief like a man, and put his child first.”
My heart bled.
I closed my eyes against the tears. Asher didn’t know me or my father. He had no reason to lie to me. And the words he spoke eased a little of the sadness I’d been carrying around for so long. Asher thought I deserved better than my father, so perhaps I did.
“Thank you.”
His eyes were pools glinting beneath the sunlight. ‘You’re welcome.”
He touched my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
The imprint seared into my flesh, heating my entire body.
His eyes darkened, no longer a pool but a well of unspoken feelings. He lowered his head, pausing when his lips almost touched mine.
He waited.
I waited.
And then, he kissed me.
Our breathing stopped. His heart beat in pace with my own. A connection infinitely stronger than the waves of the ocean or the charging of a bull snapped into place.
Our breathing started again. His warm lips pressed against mine, sealing us together forever with a kiss.
He pulled back. His eyes wide. “How did you—?”
I shook my head, curling my hand against my chest to keep from touching him.
He looked away, staring up at the sky. The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. “Can you walk now?”
Energy pulsed through me. My pain had receded, still there, but no longer unbearable. “Yes.”
He stood and set me down. His hands staying around my waist until he seemed confident I wouldn’t fall.
With jerky movements, he ran a hand through his hair. “We should keep going then.”
The gentleness was gone from his voice. Instead, he sounded like a soldier giving an order.
I pushed aside the fluttering in my heart. Had I just imagined it all? That sense of homecoming? Of two halves making a whole?
Of course I had. It’d just been a kiss. My first kiss. Nothing more.
We walked on in silence. His back stiff.
As time passed, the walls of rock began to widen and the valley grew. It was no longer a place torn out of the ground, but instead, a place the walls had risen around. Ahead of us, smoke rose above the treetops, disappearing into the fog.
I froze. “Where are you taking me?”
He paused. “To my home.”
“You live here?”
“Yes.” He turned around but didn’t look at me; instead, he brushed snow from his white cloak.
I slumped against a tree, glancing around at the inhospitable landscape. “Is it always so cold?”
He ran a hand through his blond hair, giving it the endearing look of someone just out of bed. “The Protectors enchanted this valley, making it forever winter.”
“Then how do you live?”
Using the toe of his booted foot, he kicked at the snow. And I realized, he seemed to be trying to look at anything but me. “There are creatures of unbelievable rarity here, which we capture or kill for trade.”
I frowned. “But who do you trade with?”
Anger sparked in his gaze. “There are no other villages here. Our traders must walk for weeks in order to reach the portal, which the witches graciously allow us to use to get to trading towns.”
“You can’t use the portals yourself?”
He stared, hard. “Only people with magic can. I thought everyone knew that.”
Did most people? It seemed like something I’d have heard of. “Well, I didn’t. It was just today that I saw a portal being used for the first time.”
“Really?” his brows rose in surprise. “In most cities, portals are used by whoever can pay the witches to take them through.” He paused, his voice filled with venom. “We even have one in Wintercarve, but we guard it so the witches can’t use it.
The idea that portals ran through the entire kingdom of Tarak, and were regularly used for transportation, shocked me, but I refused to let him see how ignorant I was. “Well, that’s not how it works in our town. No one uses the portal for traveling”
He shrugged. “I’ve heard The Protectors don’t bother to station their people at towns they consider insignificant.”
Duggery was tucked away in the center of a great forest, far from any major road, so he might be right. “That makes sense.”
He stared at me for so long, my brain turned to slush as I tried to think of something more to say. “We better keep going.”
I nodded, strangely disappointed.
“But let me handle things, all right?”
“Handle what?” I asked, confused.
“The only strangers that come here are witches, so we might not get the best reception.” Uncertainty filled his words. “Just stay close to me.”
“Of course.”
We kept walking, and without the strange energy from our kiss coursing through me, my battered body made itself known once more. My steps dragged, slower and slower, until we at last reached the edge of the village. The smell of meat cooking and the sounds of children playing reminded me so keenly of my own village that I paused, surprised by the wave of longing that swept through me.
I kept walking, following him through the snowy paths weaving through the stoutly built wooden buildings. People dressed warmly, in white cloaks of the same soft material as Asher’s, stopped their daily tasks to stare at us as we approached. One man dropped the wood he was holding and rushed into his house, slamming the door behind him. We reached the children playing near the center of town. They took one look at me and ran, cries of fear following them as they did so. My necklace flared to life at my throat, warming the skin and sending me a clear warning. Be cautious.
“Are you sure it’s all right for me to be here?” I whispered to Asher.
He turned, but didn’t have time to answer.
A giant of a man stepped into our path. His hair was dark and greasy, his eyes as black as coals, and his fists so large they could crush a babe’s head between his palms. He wore little, a tan vest and brown pants, both made from fine leather, but beneath them muscles bulged.
“Asher,” the man greeted, reaching his hands out. A ghost of a smile twisted his face, and then his eyes fell on me. The man’s jaw dropped as my escort clasped his unmoving wrists in a brotherly greeting. “What—What—,” he stuttered, stepping back, “is the meaning of this!”
His shout echoed through the town, and was followed by silence.
“Targanus—” Asher began, but the giant didn’t wait for his explanation. He tossed him aside in one fluid motion.
The man was upon me before I could react. His hands wrapped around my throat, tightening until my breathing became labored. The sound of my heart beating filled my ears, and I du
g my nails into the back of his hands. He didn’t react, so I gripped his wrists, and pressed my feet against his chest, kicking out.
My struggles made no difference.
Chapter Eight
“She’s not one of them!” Asher shouted, somewhere behind me.
“Do you think to come here for more of our women and daughters?” he hissed, relaxing his grip so I could draw in panicked gulps of air. “Were you foolish enough to believe your magic would protect you from our wrath?”
Raspy words fell from my lips. “I’m here for protection, nothing more.”
One of his large brows rose. “Protection from what?”
“The same women you fear,” I said, gasping.
His eyes narrowed, but his grip loosened even more. “We fear no one, no man or woman.”
Asher appeared at the giant’s side. “Chief, she seeks refuge from them. She’s not one of them.”
Targanus pulled me closer. His scrutinizing gaze swept over me, as if the answer to our problem lay in the lines of my face or the flecks of gold swimming in the pale green of my eyes.
“She isn’t marked,” Asher added, as if his words would make all the difference in the world.
Surprise shone in the giant’s eyes. “You truly escaped them?
“Just last night,” I rushed out.
“And you seek refuge from the witches?”
”Only until I’ve healed enough to return to The Glass Castle to save my friend.”
His brows rose. “Only Asher’s been reckless enough to try that… and he failed. So that probably makes you crazy or brave. Not sure which.” His hot breath, smelling of spicy meat, warmed my face as he leaned closer to me. “Where do you hail from?”
I forced the word passed my lips. “Duggery.”
“And does your father or husband wait for you there?”
My heart constricted. “I hope so.”
He let his hands fall from my throat. “He waits for you. Two of my daughters and three of my wives were taken, and I still wait for their return.”
Targanus took a step away from me, but his large hands reached out to grip my upper arms as he inspected me. “How did you escape them?”
