Blood Warrior dk-2

by Lindsey Piper

  “Don’t look at me, goddess. I’m not one of your true believers. I have plans of my own. If they conflict with yours, then we should move on.”

  “I tried that after escaping the valley. You came back.”

  His smirk flashed. She was coming to like its appearances. That meant she’d caught him by surprise.

  Yet a task harder than dealing with Tallis still remained.

  She turned to Chandrani and took hold of the woman’s upper arms. “I have a favor to ask, my dear friend.”

  “Again, you sound different. That old Masquerade didn’t do something to you, did he?”

  “No,” Kavya said firmly. “Come see.”

  She invited Chandrani into her mind. They shared old memories. Good memories. The memories both trusted as genuine. Even painful recollections held truth—perhaps more than those of laughter. Any Mask could falsify happy impressions: sunshine, a child’s smile, the hand of a friend entwined with one’s own. But what Masquerade was skilled enough to create terrors and heartaches that felt undeniably real? Those were particular to the soul’s darkest places.

  So she gave Chandrani their first night together in Delhi, and she offered the tears they’d shared after Kavya had killed Chandrani’s sister, Leela. It had been the only way to keep Leela from taking what didn’t belong to her. Chandrani’s gift. Chandrani’s life.

  “I need you to go,” Kavya said, voice rough. “Go home to your pod. Marry Nirijhar. He’s been as faithful to you as you’ve been to me. Time to honor your promise.”

  Chandrani shook her head. “He would understand. He knows I need to protect you.”

  “No.” Kavya firmed her voice. She’d rarely used her gift against Chandrani—only with her, to exchange information and comfort. But she did so now, adding mental persuasion to her words. “You need to stay here. We’re from the North. Our people may listen.” She concentrated harder. “Marry Nirijhar and indulge in the reward of his comfort. Talk among those who’ll listen. Tell them about Pashkah and how I’m not giving up. Those who will listen will also be those who talk. They’ll pass on what they’ve heard. Peace needs to come from the people or it will never stick. Our hopes cannot hinge on what might appear to be the dogma of a single woman.”

  “Leave you.” Chandrani’s words were flat.

  “For now.”

  That lump had returned. Rarely had Kavya spent a day without Chandrani, not since their first introduction when they’d both eyed the same loaf of bread from an unsuspecting vendor. Kavya had snatched it first, only to be chased down by a much bigger, stronger girl. In the end they’d laughed at the vendor’s sad attempt to shout for police, and they’d shared the bread.

  In the years since, they parted only when Chandrani returned to visit her birth village, even higher in the Pir Panjal. She and stout, strong Nirijhar had fallen in love. It was time to let that love run its course.

  “I’ll return,” Kavya said. “I promise.”

  Chandrani eyed Tallis with dark suspicion. “And if I go?”

  Kavya’s smile was sardonic. “Then I’ll have a man at my side, too.”

  “I still don’t trust him.”

  “Don’t think that I do. But he and I are bound by mysteries neither of us want looming over our lives. Until those mysteries are solved, I doubt he’ll let me be harmed.” She slid her gaze toward Tallis, whose averted face spoke of disinterest, but whose posture leaned toward their conversation. “Isn’t that right, Reaper?”

  “Yes.” The quickness of his reply confirmed Kavya’s guess. He had been hanging on to every word of the conversation. She liked knowing that her guesses about his physical cues were becoming more accurate.

  “See?” She returned to Chandrani. “You want to do what’s right, not just what’s best for me. So you have new orders, Chandrani of Indranan. Hug me. Promise you’ll marry the man you adore. And bid me a loving farewell.”

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Tallis stood at Kavya’s back as her bodyguard trudged away. The only dejected thing about the woman was a sense of having failed to win an argument. Her back was straight, her strides confident. If he hadn’t been privy to the spoken portion of their conversation, Tallis wouldn’t have guessed she was anything but a determined soldier. Off to do her duty. And apparently off to get married.

  “Where does she live?”

  Kavya touched the bottom curve of one eye. A tear? Tallis didn’t want to be moved, but if this was real, he wanted to know what it looked like and how it felt. Whatever was blocking her telepathy might not last. He wanted as many details as possible about her true self.

  “Far north of the Rohtang Pass, in a city called Leh—nearly the northernmost city in India. Her family believes themselves personally touched by the Dragon because of their proximity to the Chasm. I don’t know of any other Dragon Kings who live nearer.”

  “Yet she followed you?”

  “No, she fled. As we all do. Mumbai and Delhi are cities where one can blend in and start new lives.” She shrugged—a jerky motion, as if yanked by a careless puppeteer. “There’s nothing else we can do. As a people. Unless I . . .”

  She shuddered. When Tallis moved nearer, she held out a warning hand. “No,” she said. “I don’t want you near me.”

  “What was that you told her, about how you could count on me to keep you safe?”

  “What else would I have told a friend who didn’t want to leave my side? That I think you’re delusional and dangerous? That as soon as you’ve untangled the brambles in your head, you’ll do something stupid like maul me in my sleep?”

  “Depends on how you define maul.”

  Her expressions were gaining so much candor. Right now her face showed a combination of disgust and embarrassment. “Chandrani had to go, and I’ll leave as well. Heading south. Hopefully Pashkah will assume I’ve gone to Delhi, back to the streets where I grew up. He’ll have learned that much about me now.”

  “After just a few minutes together?”

  “Do you have siblings, Tallis?”

  “Five.” He twitched down to the bones. “Well, four now.”

  Kavya’s brows drew together. “Four?”

  “Leave it,” he said sharply.

  Just when Tallis was convinced she’d keep probing, Kavya only nodded. “Would you know their thoughts and feelings after only a few moments?”

  He closed his eyes and remembered green—so much bright, kelly green touched with the mind-blowing purple of heather in bloom. He remembered his brothers and sisters. Then he tried to imagine telepathy between them. He couldn’t do it, but fact overlaid his sudden, choking flush of memory. “Yes, I could. A long time ago.”

  “Then know that even in combat, Pashkah learned more about the last twenty years of my life than I’ll ever know about another person.”

  “Did you learn the same from him?”

  “Yes.” Her face paled. It looked sickly, unnatural compared to her usual golden coloring.

  “And you’ll keep that to yourself?”

  “As a kindness.” She shuddered and pulled deeper into the under-armor padding Chandrani had left behind. “So . . . anywhere but India.”

  Tallis exaggerated his movements as he looked up and down the valley. “How do you expect to get out? By sailing down the Beas?”

  She tipped her head, frowning. “How did you get here?”

  “By sailing up the Beas.”

  Her laugh was like the soft song of birds or the ringing of church bells in celebration. He was transported back to an evensong performance at Bath Abbey. The unfiltered waters of the Roman baths had still flavored his tongue with salt and oil. Children’s voices had raised in song. He hadn’t believed the words intoned by the vicar, but his cadence had calmed Tallis’s soul.

  That was Kavya’s laugh.

  “There’s an airport ten kilometers south of here, you ridiculous lout. Outside a village called Bhuntar.”

  “An airport.” Tallis laughed, too. He let out th
e sound, as if grinding tension could be released so easily. Maybe it could be.

  “Did you think we use magic spells and rafts made of inflated animal hides?” She shared his grin. “Not anymore. Unless you’d rather walk or sail, I suggest you get your mind out of medieval times. We’re not all Tenzing Norgay helping Englishmen climb Everest. Come on.” She nodded to indicate the heart of the city. “We can take a shuttle to the airport and decide where to go to regroup.”

  Tallis shook his head and followed the Sun—who’d suddenly decided to find a sense of humor.

  She turned to glance at his profile. He could feel the weight of her inquisitive eyes, not just then but every time her gaze sought his face. There was curiosity and confusion and wariness. He wanted other reasons for her to look at him, but Dragon be damned if he could name them.

  “You really think we’re banished up here in the peaks, backward people like Sherpa herders and folks bunkered down in Himalayan igloos . . . don’t you?”

  “No,” he said. “Just because I trekked up from Punjab and missed what I assume will be a five-star deluxe airport doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of your people. I’ve been here nearly three months.”

  “Stalking me?” Although Kavya’s eyebrow was arched with sarcasm, he couldn’t return her jest.

  “Yes. I was actually surprised when I found your followers’ camp. I hadn’t expected anything so organized. I’ll admit to expecting little burrows or hideaway shelters in a forest like this.”

  Kavya’s mouth tightened until the blood drained away. “I should have. That would’ve been safer.”

  “How? It took me months to find you because I don’t follow brainwaves and Indranan witchcraft.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “In other words, I didn’t have the gift Pashkah does. All he needed to do was open up his mind and fish out the largest collection of Dragon Kings in India, Nepal, wherever.”

  Late rays of light shone on her face, adding artificial color while she was still pale. The ground was slippery and steep. He instinctively reached out to steady her with an arm around her waist. She flinched. “I don’t need your help,” she said.

  “Look down.”

  Kavya at least listened that much. She inhaled quietly but sharply. The instep of her slipper was mere inches from landing squarely on a broken bottle’s sharp edges.

  “We’re not the Garnis with their senses and reflexes,” he said, “but the Pendray aren’t too shabby when it comes to the physical world.”

  “And all without telepathy.”

  “None. Just . . . looking. Keep your eyes open, goddess. We’re going to need it for both our sakes.”

  She glanced down at where he still held her around the waist. “Think I can walk now?”

  “Remains to be seen.”

  Relinquishing her small, warm body was harder than he would’ve liked, and it was certainly harder than he would admit to her. She was like holding fire. Not for the first time, he was glad she couldn’t parse his thoughts.

  “Do you still want me?” she asked.

  Now Tallis was the one to stumble. He let go so as not to drag her down with him. That meant he landed alone on his ass, smearing his coat in the gooey pavement grime left by the end of the rainy season. “That was mean.”

  She laughed again and headed down the slope without his assistance, although she watched her steps with more attention.

  Tallis pushed himself up. He pulled the tail of his coat around and grimaced at the slash in the leather. But he couldn’t bring himself to raise a temper. There were so many other reasons to let his temper off its chain. Right then, Kavya wasn’t one of them.

  “Yes,” he called. “I still want you.” He caught up with her in a minute. “Besides, I bet your impression of the Pendray homeland is little better than my misconceptions.”

  “Let me see . . .” She posed her head as if in deep thought. “Highland people wearing skins and living in grass huts. Sacrificial lambs. Faces painted blue before battle where the field of combat is overrun with berserkers spinning like helicopter blades. Oh, and some live by the sea. Boats that withstand the worst storms. Myths of gods that say only the bravest make it to . . . where is it?”

  “Valhalla? Depends on who deified us.” He cocked one brow. “Withstand the worst storms? That sounded almost appreciative.”

  He took her hand, just because he wanted to. Let her fight him off.

  She didn’t.

  “Assume the worst if you want,” he said. “I’d rather you keep that note of admiration. It does a poor dumb Pendray’s soul good.”

  —

  Taking the shuttle to the airport should’ve been a simple affair. Short. Bumpy. Full of people. It was anything but simple with Tallis crammed beside her on a seat upholstered with ripped, stiff leather. Springs stuck into Kavya’s back. She tried to arrange tufts of stuffing to cover the worst of the metal, but it didn’t help. She sat very straight and tried to focus on the scenery that passed through a mud-splattered window.

  She’d been born near here. These foothills had once been her home. An innocent home, despite the tension that warped her parents—the parents of triplets. She wondered how it must’ve been for them, counting down the days until their children’s gifts manifested. For years, Kavya had lived in blissful oblivion. The sensible thing for Indranan parents to do would be to separate their children at birth, and some did. Most lived in hope that history wouldn’t repeat itself. For their clan, however, history meant making the same mistakes, no matter the generation.

  She, Pashkah, and Baile had been raised together. Played together. Loved one another. Baile had been the princess, always dressing up in their mother’s saris and insisting on flashy decorations in her long, long hair. Pashkah had been rough-and-tumble, with a smile no one but his sisters could resist, even when strange moods had distanced him from everyone. Kavya had been the quiet one . . . especially when she learned of the trials that would await them. No one had told her. She’d learned in that way children learn things their parents aren’t prepared to explain: through rumor and whispers. She’d even warned Baile and Pashkah.

  They would never hurt one another. At the age of ten, they’d sworn it. They’d even gone so far as to tell their parents of the oath they’d made, in hopes of relieving the palpable anxiety ballooning in their home.

  Two years later, Kavya had found Baile and Pashkah fighting. At first she’d been able to convince herself it was play. Jest. Fun. Their thoughts, however, had been black with rage and burning hot with the need to survive—and to take.

  Baile lay dead. Pashkah stood triumphant. Kavya ran.

  Now she was leaving again. This time felt different, as if she was being pulled toward a conclusion that would mean ending the last of her old life. One way or another.

  “Are you scared of him?” Tallis’s query dragged her free from that downward spiral of thoughts. The topic, however, was still Pashkah.

  “I’m not scared of dying, if that’s what you mean. But this is my life, my gift. I won’t give them to him just because he’s a spoiled bully. Two-thirds of a gift from the Dragon isn’t enough for him, but it’s twice as much as he should have.”

  “What was her name? The triplet he killed.”

  “Baile.”

  Maybe her delivery stalled further questions, as had his warning tone when he’d discussed five—then four—siblings of his own.

  Or maybe he was looking at the sky.

  Tallis had leaned over her lap, supporting his arm against the seam where the window met the metal frame of the bus. Cold air seeped in through that poorly sealed crack. He dipped his face low, as if he were preparing to lay his head in her lap. Kavya lifted her hands. Fingers spread wide and tingling. She forgot to breathe. Although Tallis’s clothes still bore the grit and pungency of the forest, she caught the scent of his freshly cleaned skin. Again her attention was drawn to that strip of skin between his hairline and collar. That’s what she smelled, what made her
mouth water. She wanted something as reckless as it was elemental. Just . . . Tallis. She swallowed and banked a heady shiver, unsure whether to push him away or touch the wild mass of silver-tipped hair that had fascinated her from the first.

  Yet he hadn’t been seeking refuge in her body, even if she’d been willing to offer it. Instead he peered through the glass, toward the rocky mountaintops and on toward the sky. Gray layered over his features. The shadows were banished as he stared straight up toward the light source, but the light wasn’t clear.

  “Tell me, Glinda, Good Witch of the North, what does that sky say to you?”

  “Glinda?”

  “Never mind. Just look.”

  Only, Tallis didn’t shift position. He didn’t retreat to his half of the seat. Neither had he let go of her hand while they’d traversed Kullu’s knotted yarn streets and surrounding forests. Apparently once he pressed into her space, he decided to stay there. She should’ve minded. Instead she stared at the strong, corded tendon that angled down from his arrogant jaw to his throat. A glimpse of collarbone and a touch of masculine hair were visible where his shirt gaped.

  Tallis had touched her bare arms, which had been surprising enough. The rush of heat circling like blood through arteries and veins said touching would be very different than being touched. Already she’d learned that kissing was different than being kissed. She wanted that control and to let her curiosity seek what it would—to solve the mysteries of how a man’s skin felt beneath her hands.

  Tallis’s skin.

  “Kavya,” came his sleek, low voice.

  She blinked to focus on his face, which remained brightly lit by the pallor of pale light. Gray over blue intensified the notion that his eyes would match the color of an icy ocean she’d never seen. Her hands were still poised above his head. Being bold and without asking permission—he never had—she lowered one to his temple and petted silken hair back from his face. Briefly he closed those haunting, haunted eyes.