Inside the bush tunnel the light dimmed considerably, especially since it went back into the woods before angling left and then stopping. Kylin had been half-anticipating meeting whatever had made that bush-den, and when they reached the end of it to find it empty, he allowed himself a silent sigh. Arguing over a shelter with its rightful inhabitant in such narrow confines could have proven tricky, especially with the girl crawling ahead of him. Thank Evon it had turned out to be unnecessary.
"You know, this isn't bad at all," the girl observed, beginning to make herself comfortable where the tunnel ended. "Dry shelter protected by all that undergrowth, abandoned but clean—all we're missing is a front yard with a well."
"If you accept your wells upside down, going back out
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from under the trees will supply the need," Kylin said, moving up closer to where she rested on her right side. "If it doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll spend the night here."
"If it doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll be spending a cold and soggy night here," she observed, lowering her head to examine the sodden tunic plastered to her. "Leather may not do well in the rain, but it lets you have more than five minutes out in it before it starts giving you trouble."
"But leather also resists being wrung dry," Kylin pointed out, coming even with where the girl lay. "Take the tunic off and squeeze the water out of it, and maybe by dark it will have dried."
"And if it hasn't, I can spend the night freezing," the girl said sourly, using her left hand to try squeezing the very bottom of the tunic. "Even in me north, I never really had to worry about freezing."
"You still don't have to worry about it," Kylin murmured, putting his arm about the girl as he leaned closer. "I'll make sure you don't freeze."
Her head snapped up and she parted her lips to say something, but Kylin's kiss ended whatever it would have been even before it started. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't intended pushing the newborn warmth Sofaltis was beginning to show, but he couldn't help himself. The wet tunic was outlining every curve and rise of her, and his mind kept shouting that that woman was his. He'd wanted her from the very first moment he'd seen her, and having had her once had only fed his desire, not sated it. Her lips were so soft and warm under his, the memory of rain still on them, and although she'd begun by struggling in his arms her lips weren't struggling. They were returning what they were being given, and the realization of that sent the heat racing all through his blood.
"Tisah," he murmured to the lids closed over her eyes, his hand in her hair as his lips continued to touch her. "My great-aunt's name was Sofaltis, and my great-uncle called her Tisah. I think I've decided to do the same."
"No—please—don't," she whispered with eyes still closed, trying to find the struggling she'd earlier lost. She wasn't referring to the name he'd chosen for her, and they both knew it.
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"I won't hurt you," he crooned as though she were as young, innocent and afraid as she sounded, his right hand sliding down and under that very wet tunic. "I'd never hurt you, and I mean to prove it every day for the rest of our lives. You won't regret any of this, Tisah, that I promise."
She moaned and tossed her head as though she were in pain, but there were no more words from her. Her flesh was damp but so very soft, and Kylin nearly moaned himself at the feel of it. She was his, his!—and in just another few moments he would prove it to her. Right then he was savoring what his palm and lips touched, the movement of her against him, the feel of having his arms around her. It seemed as though he'd waited forever to experience that, and he wasn't going to ruin it all by rushing. He wanted to rush, by Evon's Silver Blade he wanted to rush, but instead he took her lips again fiercely, his hand this time going to that warmth between her thighs. Her gasp also brought her hands to his back, and then Kylin knew he was truly Home.
Chapter 10
The sound of birds woke me, and although I was very comfortable I couldn't at first remember where I was. It was dim there, the air had an after-rain freshness, a hard, warm body pressed lightly against my back, while a big arm circled my waist—
If there had been more headroom 1 would have sat bolt upright, thanks to the sudden return of memory. Without it all 1 did was stiffen, silently cursing myself for the biggest damned fool alive. The day before I'd not only let him touch me I'd cooperated, for Evon's sake, just as though he weren't an enemy to my family! I'd actually wanted him to touch me, and when he had I'd enjoyed it!
I closed my eyes again and just lay still, remembering with a good deal of bitterness how I'd assured my father that I wasn't the sort to fall prey to the first attractive man likely to come along. I was strong, and independent, and a Blade, and something like that would never happen to me. I couldn't quite understand why it had happened, unless it had been caused by the memory of the first time he'd made love to me. The big fool was unexpectedly good, and I wasn't used to denying myself the good ones, and he'd gone out of his way to make me laugh, and he hadn't even cursed the fawn when he'd gotten hurt freeing it—
But none of that changed the fact that he was my enemy.
I stirred a little under the arm around my waist, feeling annoyance begin to push its way in beside the upset. Now that I was thinking about it, I could suddenly see another possible reason for the way I'd behaved: his constant references to our "upcoming marriage." No matter what I'd said,
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he'd continued insisting that we were going to be married, and the attitude must have affected my judgment. I didn't want to marry him—or anybody—but the corner I'd been pushed into was telling me I'd have no choice—that he would be my
husband—with a husband's rights—so I'd better get used to it—
"Son of a garbage eater!" I muttered under my breath, really getting angry. Wasn't that typical of a cowardly, enemy, coming at you from behind! He was using everything he could to defeat me, even my own mind, but it wasn't going to happen. It was time I started fighting back, and in the same way I was being attacked. If he wanted to play the game of hints and assuming and taking-for-granted, there was a dandy version of it / could use. . . .
"Well, good morning," I heard from behind me in a murmur, and the arm around my waist was suddenly more than simply there. "I'd say it was a lovely morning, the beginning of a really pretty day. What say we give it a proper greeting?"
His lips came to my right shoulder with that, showing he was telling more than asking, already well into the prerogatives of a husband. If he hadn't been an enemy I would have been more than interested, but he was so I couldn't afford to let myself be drawn in. I had no experience in dealing with husbands, but associating with men on an almost constant basis gives a woman very useful insights.
"Well, if you really want to," I grudged without turning to him, heavy reluctance and disinterest in my sigh of resignation. His hand, which had begun stroking my middle just below my breasts paused, and there was a moment of silence.
"After all that activity yesterday afternoon and last night, I expected more enthusiasm," he said then, his tone tinged with confusion and showing less assurance. "Are you trying to say you don't want me to make love to you?"
"I'm not silly enough to believe I can stop you," I said with another sigh, unhappy but resigned. "What difference does what / want make?"
"It makes a lot of difference," he returned, stung enough to use the arm that had been around me to shift me to my back. "You sound as though you expect to be raped and that
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bothers me, especially since what I best remember from yesterday is eager response."
"Well, of course I responded," I said with a small laugh,
looking up into his sober face. "Once a woman has a certain
amount of experience, she'll respond whether she wants to or
not. The reaction becomes
automatic, and she has very little
. control over it even if she turns out to be disappointed later."
"Disappointed?" he repeated, expressionlessly picking up on the word I'd wanted him to. "You didn't enjoy what we had together?"
"Oh, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it," I hastened to assure him, putting one hand to his wide, bare chest in an effort to take the sting out of the bitter truth I was being forced to speak. "You have to remember how many men I've tried over the years, and some of them were so—really good—that it's hard for other men to—come up to the standards they set— Oh, dear, I don't think I'm saying this right. . . ."
"No, it's all right," he muttered, no longer quite looking at me. "You can't be blamed for not—"
His words died out as his thoughts turned inward, the idea of having fallen short of the mark affecting his assurance the way I'd hoped it would. Women have one great benefit over men in that they don't need belief and self-assurance in order to perform; men, however, can't do without it. Laughter and ridicule won't stop a confident man any longer than it takes to get you out of your leathers, but understanding pity and commiseration can be devastating. Big, strong Kylin had gotten a taste of that, and suddenly his interest in proper new-day greetings wasn't as strong as it had been.
Very thoughtfully I refrained from interrupting his brooding, and when he came out of it after a minute or two the original subject was well behind us. It suddenly became a ; good idea to get back on the road as quickly as possible, and -although I was quietly sympathetic I didn't argue. Kylin of Arthil refused to let himself be pushed around as easily as Other men, but when it came to being manipulated he seemed ;; )» have no resistance at all.
."f-' We got ourselves out from under the bushes before trying ^te-get back into clothing and such, which was then accom-ed with Kylin's attention some place other than on me. tunic I'd had from him had dried during the night, which
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meant I had no more to do than slip it on, then tie my improvised sandals. Surprisingly enough, even with trousers, and boots, and dagger and pouch belt, and swordbelt, my companion was dressed almost as quickly as I was. We then shared what was left of the chicken for breakfast, searched for and found a leaf-pocket of rainwater to wash the meal down, and then continued on our way.
The trail we were following didn't narrow again, and we continued on for hours with me, at least, hoping it would take us some place sooner rather than later. I used the silence of the hours for thinking purposes, but all that came out of the effort was added frustration. Making my enemy doubt himself was useful for keeping his hands off me while we traveled, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe it would affect his decision concerning our marriage. It wasn't me he primarily wanted, after all, so the plans he and his cohorts had made would stand. They had my father and me neatly boxed in, they thought, but there had to be a way out of the trap. Hours of thinking continued to leave me without the least idea as to where the key to freedom lay, but that didn't mean there wasn't any—or that I was ready to give up.
Midday came and we stopped to rest a while, but after no more than a few minutes we were walking again. Without food and water we couldn't afford to waste any time, especially since the tangle of woods all around wasn't offering us the option of hunting. We had to walk until we dropped, and then we had to walk some more. Otherwise we'd die there, walled off from what we needed to survive by ages-old vines and bushes and trees. Following the trail had turned out to be a very bad idea, and 1 no longer thought taking it was some complex enemy ploy. My companion also seemed disturbed over the impenetrability of the forest, and wasn't trying to waste time by dragging his feet.
The minutes and hours continued to go by without doing anything more than making me thirstier, and then we came on a change so abrupt, it was almost as though someone had posted a sign. The trail itself didn't widen, but suddenly, practically between one step and the next, the woods were no longer a mass of tangles. The vines seemed to be cleared away as far in as we could see on both sides, just as though gardening ladies had been by not too long ago.
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"Thank Evon," my companion said fervently, pausing with me to look around. "If we've reached the point of farthest penetration by hunters, hopefully their village won't be too much longer down the road. Let's see if we can get there before this heat flattens us."
"You think there's a village ahead of us?" I asked, hurrying to catch up with the broader strides he was already taking. "Were you expecting it to be there?"
"I was hoping it would be there," he corrected, now watching the woods more carefully than he'd been doing. "It seemed to be a safe guess that the holding we found was established with a link back to its starting point—that it was an attempt at expansion rather than the urge to be alone— which made this trail safer for our purposes than the main road. If it had turned out ! was wrong, we would have had to backtrack without the supplies we'd started with."
"Getting back to that spring wouldn't have been all that hard," I decided, not having considered the option sooner. "If we couldn't catch something to eat there, we'd deserve to starve. And then we'd have no choice but to find that outlaw camp and do a little raiding—which is something I wish I'd thought of sooner. It would have saved us this walk."
"By getting us killed?" he asked, but there was true amusement behind the words, and then he sobered again. "You know, I don't think any woman 1 ever met would have kept on walking without a single complaint, or would have , passed up the chance of reminding me that going this way was something I'd insisted on. You seem to be the answer to fifty man's prayers to Evon, and I wish I could have—"
He broke off in the middle and simply went back to watching the woods, leaving me wishing I was in front of a practice pole with a sword in my hands. How dare he make trie feel guilty for what I'd done to him that morning? And ./without even realizing he was doing it) He was an enemy, • '•-,. wasn't he? Then why should his compliments make me feel ; : £dd, and his belief that he hadn't satisfied me make me want ^*o admit I'd been lying? It wasn't right and it wasn't sane, but my fingernails in my palms was the only thing that me quiet. For someone playing deep, nasty games he so horribly—open, and easy to hurt! Why did he have to pretending he was nice?
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The best thing about my thoughts after that was that they kept me from remembering how thirsty I was. It took me a while to make myself understand that an enemy couldn't be nice, but after that it was a little easier burying the guilt. I'd never minded cutting down someone who was trying to do the same to me, but drawing blood from a helpless, unarmed victim is more than I have the stomach for. If that's what it took to be a successful Ducal heir, maybe 1 didn't have the makings of one after all.
We trudged on up the trail, seeing the woods thin more and more as we went, and then we came to the place where the forest disappeared into stumps. I knew it had to be the place the villagers had taken building logs from and was about to say something about how much closer we had to be, when Kylin stopped short beside me. I looked up to see that his attention was on what appeared to be a knot of people a short distance away, and then all thoughts of trees and the nearness of the village were gone from me. The main knot of people ahead were all in long skirts and huddled together, and those around them wore trousers and were carrying what couldn't be anything other than quarterstaffs.
"I think you'd better wait here," my companion muttered, his eyes still on the scene ahead, his right hand already reaching over to loosen his sword. "If that turns out to be something other than what it looks like, I'll call you."
And then he was striding off without waiting for an answer, confidently expecting me to do exactly as I'd been told, silly enough to think I'd believe those men weren't attacking those women in some way. As 1 immediately followed after, I knew I'd have to revise my previous opinions of his intelligence. If the man
really thought I was going to stay behind and do nothing to help, he wasn't stupid, he had mush for brains and was entirely beyond hope.
The closer I got, the easier it was to see that the women who were huddled together were really frightened. The men around them, only six to their ten or more, were laughing as they looked at their intended victims, but it wasn't clear what they were going to make them victims of. Kylin was about Five steps ahead of me, moving quickly but quietly, and suddenly one of the women stepped out away from the huddle to face one of the men.
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"I can't believe you're doing this," she said, her voice carrying easily, a mixture of anger and fear in it. "These women haven't hurt you in any way, so how can you . . ."
"It ain't us as had the hurt, so that makes it worse," the man directly before her interrupted, a deep satisfaction of sorts in him. "All o1 you done bad by Grail, an' that's what makes you sinful. Th' priest says sinners deserve what they get and get what they deserve, 'n we're here t'make it so."
"How can refusing to listen to this new priest be sinful in the eyes of Grail?" the woman asked in confusion, her voice now unsteady. "Just because they want to keep on doing things the way the old priest said was proper, doesn't mean they ..."
"Th* old priest din't know the right way, but this'n do," the man broke in again, having no interest in listening to anything he didn't want to hear. "Th1 priest says you all gotta be punished, 'specially you, an' then there won' be no more who try th' same. We's workin' f'r uY priest, so we's gonna go Home in Glory when we go, that's what he says. Now we's gonna get t' it."
The man brought his quarterstaff up to hold it in both hands, and the woman stepped back without taking her eyes from him, knowing well enough that he now stood at the ready. Some of the others behind her began whimpering, all of them trying to huddle into each other, but the "it" they were supposed to get started with suddenly faced an unexpected delay.
"You men step away from those women, or you'll be going Home a lot sooner than you were planning on," my companion announced from where he'd stopped, about six feet behind the nearest man. "And if you think there'll be anything glorious about it, take my word for it: there won't be."
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