by Donna Hatch
“You were hurt; you had no choice. And we weren’t defenseless.”
His eyes met hers. In that moment, his walls lowered and she saw self-recrimination.
“You haven’t let me down, Captain Darkwood.”
He grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed the cut above his temple.
Jeniah touched his arm. “She bears you no ill will for killing her mate.”
“Her mate?” he repeated with apprehension.
“He acted impulsively, and had he waited, he would have understood you. But with so many armed men infiltrating the land, he saw your sword and believed you one of them. She understands all this. And she understands who you are.”
He fixed an unreadable expression upon her as he considered her words. A moment passed before he nodded and climbed slowly to his feet and disappeared outside. He returned with a large slab of meat, already cleaned and skinned, and several dried branches, which he used to build a spit.
“With the Hanorans so near, we don’t dare use a fire, but we need to eat something more substantial. Cooking the meat over the firestick will take longer, but it can be done.”
The smell of the cooking meat made Jeniah’s mouth water. She sat next to the firesticks and willed the meat to cook faster.
The Darborian searched for something in his clothing. “I’m missing a dagger,” he said.
“Oh, I forgot. Here.” She handed it over and couldn’t resist teasing, “I’m surprised you missed it, with all the weapons you carry.”
“I never know when I might need one.” He eyed her. “What else happened while I was asleep—besides the chayim and the wyrwolves?”
She checked things off with her finger. “I discovered raw reshle seeds lose their appeal after two meals, I figured out how to boil water, and I decided that your dried meat is not palatable even stewed.”
He chuckled. “I see you got to have all the fun without me.” His eyes moved to her feet. “Are those slippers the latest fashion in Arden?”
Jeniah looked down at her feet. She had wrapped strips of cloth around her palace slippers in a feeble attempt to keep warm and protected during her ventures outside the cave. The thin, embroidered slippers had been adequate for the smooth floors of the palace, but offered little protection from the snow or the rough terrain of the wild.
She wriggled her toes. “All fashionable ladies of the court favor these.”
“Some women have no sense of practicality when it comes to clothing and shoes,” the Darborian quipped as he pushed himself to a stand.
“What are you doing? You need to rest.”
Kai grinned and waved her off. “Don’t be concerned.”
Soon he returned, carrying the saddlebags. With great care, he settled himself back down and packed all of the contents of both his leather saddlebags into one. He cut up the empty bag and oiled the pieces to help repel water.
“It’s a good thing you have tiny feet.”
He reached for her feet. Curious, Jeniah did not resist when he placed them on his leg. With her ankles resting on his thigh, he wrapped the leather pieces around her feet and ankles over her thin castle slippers and stockings, and wound a thin leather strap around the whole, making a crude boot.
“These are lovely,” she declared.
“Ah, yes. My workmanship is fit for royalty. They are a nice compliment to your gown.” He grinned. “My tunic has never looked so good. You fill it out better than I do.”
As she looked down at herself, a shadow settled over her spirits. The captain looked questioningly at her, but she could not meet his searching eyes.
“What is it?” he asked.
She made a slight face and shrugged. She did not want to speak of the Hanoran soldiers in her mother’s solarium, or the personal violence that had left her gown in rags.
“Tell me,” he urged gently.
When she looked up at him, he nodded, encouraging her to speak. He might understand. After all, he’d killed many. But she wasn’t sure if taking lives troubled him. Perhaps he’d think her silly, or overly tenderhearted.
She couldn’t bring herself to speak of it yet. Instead, she voiced another thought that had occurred to her that morning. “Today would have been the celebration of my ascent into maidenhood, called the age of ascension.”
“The knights spoke of it often. Many of them trained specifically for that tournament. There was a great deal of boasting about who would become your champion.”
“Was there?” Jeniah asked in surprise. “None of them ever paid the slightest attention to me. I suppose winning the tournament and being named the princess’s champion would bring a certain distinction.”
“No, it was more than that. They all wanted to be your champion.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I think you exaggerate.”
When she fell silent, he prompted, “Tell me about the ceremony.”
Images of the tournament, the fair, the entertainers who performed, the ceremony itself, the great feast, and dancing filled her thoughts. But now, in light of everything else she had lost, it all seemed insignificant. All her life, she knew that as a princess, her value was much less important than her brother’s, but at least she belonged to a family then. Where did she belong now?
“Princess?”
His look of compassion almost proved her undoing. “It no longer matters, except to remind me how much I’ve lost.” Her voice caught, but she managed an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, Captain, I do not mean to complain.”
“No doubt anyone would feel as you do.”
“We’re fortunate that the Hanorans did not wait until closer to my ceremony to strike or there would have been hundreds more people in the city. Normally, people come from miles around for the fair and tournament.”
The captain nodded slowly. “That would have been worse.” He finished turning the meat and inspected it. Holding the skewer toward her, he announced, “My lady, dinner is served.”
The meat was unseasoned and quite tough, but they feasted on it ravenously. After days of nothing but dried meat and raw seeds, Jeniah couldn’t remember when anything had tasted so delicious. She and the captain grinned at each other over their dinner, and she licked her fingers in a manner that would have shocked the court.
“Your Highness, there is a city not far from here on the border of Arden and Lariath. We can purchase some provisions and more suitable clothing.”
She brightened. “How soon?”
“We should be there in a few days. Hanoran spies are probably there, so we must assume that everyone is our enemy, but it is a large city of commerce with merchants who come from all over, so I believe we will blend in—” he paused “—if you behave as a commoner.”
Jeniah nodded, seeing the wisdom in his words. If anyone recognized them, they would be captured. How odd it felt to be a refugee in her own country. But it was not hers any longer. She was a fugitive.
She drew a breath. “I will do my best, Captain.”
“That means I must not use your title once we reach the city.”
“I understand.”
He paused as if trying to put his thoughts into words. “I fear that we may attract notice regardless of our precautions. I don’t dare leave you behind alone while I go in for supplies, but I’m reluctant to risk taking you there.”
Jeniah knew then that she needed to trust him with her secret. In a land where magic of any form was viewed as evil, her old fears rose. But her chayims—both of them—had assured her that her magic was not a power to mistrust. And her mother had told her the same. She could, of course, simply blur as he watched her, which would allow him to still see her in her true appearance and only fool the eyes of others, but some intuition whispered that he needed to know she possessed this ability.
“Captain Darkwood, there is something that I feel you should know about me.”
He looked at her with raised brows.
“I’ve never told anyone this before
, but I think my lady-inwaiting suspected somehow.” She moistened her lips. “I have a way of disguising myself to appear as something other than I am. I call it blurring, for lack of a better word. It is a way of blending in, or becoming unnoticeable. I must concentrate, and it takes a great deal of energy so I can’t maintain the illusion for long, but I can appear no more remarkable than anyone or anything else.”
“You’re a shape-shifter?”
“No, I can’t actually change form. I only create the illusion of becoming something else. Look outside, and then look back at me.”
The instant his eyes left her face, she blurred. When he looked back, alarm widened his eyes. “Princess?”
“I’m still here,” she reassured him.
He reached out to her blindly. When his hand came in contact with her arm, first puzzlement and then wonder came over his features. “You still feel like a person, but my eyes tell me there’s nothing there but an outcropping of rock.”
She stopped blurring.
He jerked his hand back. “That’s incredible.” There was no condemnation in either his tone or his expression, only fascination. “Truly, this is a great magic. To my knowledge, other than the high priestess and a few mages, only a few lucky Darborians actually possess magic.”
Surprise and relief flooded her. She did not know why his approval mattered, but somehow it did. Perhaps if a warrior who placed his faith in his weapons saw no reason to mistrust magic, she shouldn’t either.
“How long can you maintain it?”
“Only a few hours at a time.”
“Have you been able to do this all your life?”
“I’m not sure. I discovered it quite by accident in my early adolescence and have used it many times over the years.”
“Do it again,” he urged, his eyes filled with admiration.
“If you are looking directly at me when I first begin to blur, you can still see me.”
“Really?” he appeared intrigued.
“See?” She blurred again while he looked at her.
He blinked. “There’s a slight . . . I’m not sure what to call it, but the outside edges of your hair and clothes look a bit fuzzy.” He grinned. “Blurry. But you’re right, I can see you.”
“That’s how I escaped my guards that day in the forest when I found my chayim—the day we met.” She smiled sadly. “Poor Breneg and Ciath. I know it frustrated them that they often could not find me. How badly I treated them.”
The captain took her hand, his thumb lightly rubbing across the back of her hand. The casual contact made her skin tingle. Then, as if catching himself, he released her hand and leaned back heavily, his eyes closing.
Concerned that he had overtaxed his strength, Jeniah touched his face, looking for signs of fever. He was still cool but his face was drawn and tired and the cut above his temple stood out against his pale skin.
“I’m all right, Princess. I just need rest.”
The following morning, Kai insisted that they leave the safety of the cave and start their journey to Darbor. He didn’t dare remain in the heart of enemy territory and risk the princess’s safety. Before they left, he tore off his rank and insignia and disguised everything that might reveal their identity.
Disguising Braygo would prove more difficult. Anyone could see he had been bred as a kingly mount. Kai muddied him a bit, under the animal’s reproachful stare, and hoped it would be enough. Perhaps he would appear as a mercenary enjoying a steed he’d taken during looting.
Once he swept the area for danger, he helped the princess mount Braygo and swung up behind her. A well-rested Braygo danced against the reins eagerly. Soon they were off, moving as quickly as Kai dared.
The sun was at its apex when he heard the sounds of mounted soldiers. With a silent curse, he left the road for the thick brush and dismounted. The princess slid off Braygo’s back and looked up at Kai with frightened eyes. He drew her down into a crouch beside him. Breathless, they waited. Hanoran soldiers burst into view, riding hard and fast. They wore white cloaks and rode white, hairless mounts. Kai knew from past battles that they were not the regular army, but part of a special force, highly trained and deadly.
The princess’s breath came out in unsteady gasps and her face was pale with terror. Kai put a hand over the princess’s in an attempt to lend her courage. The soldiers moved past them without stopping, but Kai waited several more minutes to ensure they were out of danger before cautiously remounting.
That evening Kai cut down several branches to fashion a leanto so they could sleep sheltered from the winter. By the warmth and light of the firestick, the princess dressed his wounds again. He steeled himself, but her touch was so light that the pain was tolerable.
“When did you realize you wanted to become a Sauraii?” the princess asked in an obvious attempt to divert his attention.
“I’ve always known. My father was a Sauraii who served the king of Darbor all of his life. He taught me to move and think like a warrior.”
“Tell me about your father.”
“He was the son of a blacksmith. A traveling Sauraii met him and saw greatness in him. My father became a legend even before his death.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died of a fever when I was only a youth, but he was a truly great man—strong, honorable, committed.”
“And you wanted to be exactly like him?”
“It never occurred to me to even consider learning a trade. I always knew I’d be a Sauraii.”
“Tell me about it.”
He paused, again wrestling with the odd desire to actually reveal himself to another. Yet the princess looked at him with such genuine kindness that he found himself opening his mouth.
“When my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s farm and I lived there with them until I left to study under a Sauraii master. After three years, the master said there was nothing more he could teach me.” Kai grinned self-consciously. “He said I had exceeded him, but I know he was still much greater. I was probably too much of a troublemaker and he’d grown weary of my antics. He sent me to Domari.”
“Domari?”
“The school where Sauraii apprentices are trained.”
“What was that like?” One hand rested against the bare skin of his back. Soft and warm, it sent shivers of pleasure through his body.
Hungry for more but resisting the lure to lean against her touch, Kai swallowed and remained still. “Grueling. We trained for sixteen hours a day in weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, and survival skills.”
“And I thought my studies had been rigorous,” the princess commented with admiration in her voice. “How long where you there?”
“Two years.”
“That’s a long time for such intensive training.”
“It’s actually faster than normal. Most finish in three or four, if ever.”
“How old were you when you were received the title of Sauraii?”
“Fourteen. I went straight from there to offer myself to the king. I’ve been in his service ever since.”
“Fourteen? No one in Arden is knighted that young. You are a remarkable man, Kai Darkwood. I’m fortunate to have you with me. I’ve never met anyone as driven or as duty-bound as you.”
She moved to sit next to him and looked him in the eye. When their gaze locked and held, tenderness for this lovely young woman welled inside him. Her gray eyes mirrored trust and something soft that he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. He clenched his fists and looked away, wishing his heart was whole, yet grateful it was not. He couldn’t risk an attachment, not with her, not with anyone.
After he pulled on his shirt, he checked the perimeter of their camp and drove off a snake, then stood looking up at the stars.
“Good night, my love.” He brought the braided hair around his neck to his lips. Unaccountably, his gaze returned to the princess. Then he snatched his eyes away and refocused on the stars, feeling as if he had been caught with another woman.
&n
bsp; Chapter Ten
Pressed by a sense of urgency, they traveled late into the night, Braygo as tireless as Captain Darkwood. Sitting across the duocorn’s strong shoulders, Jeniah let her head fall back against the captain’s chest behind her, then woke with a start when Braygo halted. The captain peered intently into the forest. Jeniah tried to focus on what he saw but nothing looked unusual.
Eyes straining in the darkness, she finally saw a booted foot protruding from behind a tree. Soft snoring reached her ears.
Putting a finger to his lips, Kai slipped off Braygo and stole stealthily to the large tree. He flattened himself against the trunk and peered around it. Then he crept noiselessly back to Jeniah, his body thrumming with tension. She knew by his grim face that he’d found a contingent of sleeping Hanoran soldiers. Jeniah’s chest seized until she couldn’t breathe. Then Kai rested his hand on her arm, and she was comforted enough to draw a breath.
The Sauraii urged his duocorn forward and they rode for several minutes in silence before Jeniah looked back, but there was no sign that the soldiers had been alerted. They rode on until well after the middle of the night before they stopped to camp, and the captain was up again before sunrise. He looked flushed and pained but would not rest. They only stopped briefly to eat and see to personal needs before the Darborian urged her on.
By that afternoon, the captain’s normally straight posture began to slump against her back as they rode. Jeniah glanced back at him. His ragged breathing and flushed face betrayed his pain. She reached back and touched his cheek. Hot. He was relapsing.
He managed a brave but weak smile. “I’m all right.”
“We should camp, Captain.”
“I can go on a while longer,” he insisted.
If she had been any less concerned about him, she might have smiled. He certainly seemed to have a strong aversion for showing any weakness. That trait may be common in warriors, but Captain Darkwood epitomized it. Perhaps he was being brave for her sake, but she suspected that his overdeveloped sense of both inner and outer strength was a deeply ingrained part of his personality.
