by G. R. Lyons
“I got up for prayers, and felt you fighting against it, so I tried to help you keep the voices out,” she explained, shrinking back from him as though she might be in trouble. “Your mind feels very strange to me.”
Graeden shifted his pillow and leaned back against the wall. “Well, my grandfather was Tanasian, so apparently I've inherited some of his ability.”
“Oh.”
“Are you…able to read my thoughts?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. Mostly when you project.”
“Project?”
“Send a thought out forcefully. It mostly happens when you're angry.”
Graeden looked at her while she kept her eyes on her hands.
“What am I thinking now?”
Zhadeyn shook her head. “I'm not allowed.”
“Try. Humor me.”
She looked up at him, then quickly looked away, a concentrated look on her face.
“I'm not sure,” she whispered. “Your mind is not fully secure, but it is difficult to read.”
“But not impossible?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Can you teach me to control it?”
Her eyes widened and she looked around uncertainly, but she nodded and said, “I think so.” She shifted off the bed and adjusted her wrap, mumbling, “I need to make your breakfast.”
“Zhadeyn?” he called after her, but she hurried out the door. Graeden shook his head with a sigh and got up, dressing in his clothes from the day before, then sat on the bed, looking around the room, the reality of his situation finally coming to light.
“I'm married,” he whispered to himself. “Holy shit.”
He closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, then headed out to the front room, where Zhadeyn placed a bowl on the table for him before she vanished back into the kitchen. Graeden followed her, and found her standing by the sink, rapidly spooning up something from a bowl of her own.
She set the bowl aside with a gasp when she saw him.
“Do you need something?” she asked, wringing her hands.
Graeden looked at her for a moment, then grabbed the bowl in one hand and her wrist in the other and hauled both out to the dining table. He set down her bowl and pulled out a chair.
She took a step back, looking startled.
“Please,” he said, gesturing at the chair.
“But…it's not right,” she stammered, taking another step back.
“It is where I come from.”
She looked from him to the chair and back again, then slowly moved forward and sat down stiffly, staring at her bowl while Graeden sat down beside her. He started eating, groaning with pleasure that she didn't make the same tasteless mush that their housekeeper made back at the shared apartment. Taking another bite, he glanced over and saw a slight smile on Zhadeyn's face as she quietly picked up her spoon and joined him.
“Hmmm,” he said, scooping up the last of his meal, “I almost forgot. That file.”
“Oh!” Zhadeyn dropped her spoon and pushed back her chair. “Which did you need?”
“I don't remember his name,” Graeden said, getting up to follow her back to the room with two beds. “I'll know it when I see it, though.”
Zhadeyn looked through the files, setting aside the ones with his name on them, and Graeden checked each one until he found the one he needed. He read over his notes twice, relieved to see that his worries had been for nothing, and his recommendation was the correct dosage.
“I've made a mess of your work, haven't I?” he asked, handing back the file.
She shook her head. “It won't put me back much.”
She rearranged a few of the files, stacking them in a neat pile, then went very still for a moment before she slowly reached out and picked up the knife that Graeden had tossed aside the night before.
Graeden held his breath, watching her, and after a moment she turned the blade around and rested it on her palm, handle toward him.
He took the knife, holding it gingerly while Zhadeyn dropped her arms to her sides and silently waited.
“Zhadeyn, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here,” he said, recognizing that this was some sort of ritual but not entirely sure what it meant.
“Oh, right,” she mumbled, then drew her hair over her right shoulder, reached back to pull the end of her wrap free, and pressed a hand to her chest to keep her breasts covered while she pulled the end of her wrap forward, leaving her left shoulder exposed. “If I pleased you, you can mark me as yours.”
Graeden took a half step back, his gut twisting as he looked from the knife to her and back.
“Mark you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Your name. Here.”
She tapped her fingers on her exposed collarbone, and Graeden dropped the knife, backing away from her and panting as the nightmare memories assaulted his mind.
“No,” he gasped.
Zhadeyn took a deep breath and held it, giving a slight nod, and slowly lowered to her knees, taking up the knife with her free hand and turning it around to press the point to her chest.
“NO!” Graeden cried, tearing the knife out of her hands and pulling her into his arms. “Gods, no. Why would you do that?”
“If you don't mark me, they won't know I belong to you,” she murmured.
Graeden leaned back and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I'm not cutting you. Do you hear me? I won't. I can't–”
He sank onto his backside and covered his eyes.
“Please don't make me do this.”
Silence stretched between them, until he heard a slight gasp escape her lips, and felt her rest a hand lightly on his own. He looked down at their hands, then back up at her face, feeling a sudden, desperate need to tell her everything, but when he saw restrained tears in her eyes, he got a sneaking suspicion that, somehow, she already knew.
“Please don't make me do this,” he repeated.
Moving slowly, she pressed the handle into his hand, curled his fingers around it, and brought the point up to her chest, holding it there.
“You have to kill me or mark me,” she whispered. “There is no other way.”
He saw the blade shaking, and it took him a moment to realize it was he who was trembling. Graeden gasped out a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the memories go away.
“I can't do this,” he gasped. “I'm a doctor. I heal people, not hurt them.”
After a long silence, he opened his eyes and saw her sitting very still and calm, looking at him with sadness in her eyes.
“Am I projecting?” he asked in a whisper.
Zhadeyn nodded.
“So you saw…”
“Bits and pieces,” she murmured, looking down.
He tried to pull his hand away, but she held it there.
“I can't hurt you,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
“You'll hurt me more if you do nothing,” she said gently.
Graeden shook his head and looked away.
“Here,” she said, letting go of his hand and reaching for a piece of scrap paper and a pen from the mess of files on the bed. “It's shorter in the old Tanasian script, if that makes it easier.”
She wrote out a few foreign symbols, making his name half as long to write as it was in the Common Tongue. Graeden stared at it, seeing the ink turn red in his mind, and shivered.
“Zhadeyn…”
“It's alright.”
“I don't want to hurt you.”
She took a deep breath, then leaned in and kissed him softly, and though she didn't speak, he thought he heard her tell him, You'll be saving me.
Graeden broke off the kiss with a gasp, staring back at her as she managed to hold his gaze. He wasn't sure if she'd actually spoken to him with her mind, but somehow she'd managed to cut right to the heart of his nightmares, and the whole reason he'd shoved aside better judgment in order to make her his wife in the first place.
Holding his breath, he touched the knife to her chest, cringing as he glanced from the paper to her and back
, carving the symbols into her skin. His hand shook and he had to stop to suck in another breath and hold it again, shaking as he finished the mark and dropped the knife on the floor.
He looked down at his hands, hands that had always been used to heal and save lives, and for the second time in his life, he hardly recognized them.
Zhadeyn stood, and he just caught the pained look on her face as she turned her back to him, unwound her wrap, tucked it back in place in the other direction, and drew it up over her right shoulder instead of her left. She turned to face him while she reached behind herself to tuck the end of her wrap into her skirt, and Graeden saw the wound glaring at him, dripping blood down her chest and staining her wrap, the cloth now positioned to leave the wound exposed.
Graeden ran to the washroom and vomited into the sink.
Chapter 18
GRAEDEN WENT straight to the hospital rather than going home to change, too unsettled to care about still being in yesterday's clothes. He navigated the maze of hallways, barely noticing the people he passed, and nearly reached their assigned room when he was yanked out of his path and slammed up against the wall.
He shook his head and saw Jase standing before him, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare.
“Where were you last night, Grae?”
Graeden blinked at him but couldn't find the words to answer.
“You had a woman, didn't you?” Jase growled under his breath. “I can see it in your face. How could you, Graeden? After what happened with us! If we had only known– But gods damn it all, Grae, you knew better! And now look what you've–”
“I married her,” Graeden mumbled, pulling himself free.
Jase's mouth fell open and he took a step back.
“You wanna run that by me one more time?”
“I married her,” Graeden repeated, and Jase looked at him as though the world had gone flat.
“Did…No, I must be hearing things,” Jase said. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“Whoa, what's going on out here?” Leni asked, stepping out of the room with Quinn right behind him.
Jase took another step back.
“Grae says he's married.”
Leni and Quinn shared a look, then stared at Graeden.
“What?”
Graeden nodded, and Jase grabbed him by the lapels on his coat, hauled him around the corner where they'd be farther away from other people, and shoved him up against the wall again.
“Alright, talk,” Jase demanded, but before Graeden could say anything, Jase stepped back and waved his arms, asking, “What in the gods' names were you thinking? Are you ill? You must be ill.” Jase pressed the back of his hand to Graeden's forehead, and Graeden slapped the hand away. “Because I can't think of any other explanation for why you of all people would be mad enough to actually marry one of these women! Fuck, Grae, we've only been here a month and–”
“I had to, alright?” Graeden spat back.
“Oh, no, you didn't, Grae,” Jase countered. “You could have just stayed away from the women, like we agreed.”
“I couldn't let someone else have her.”
“Yes, you could have,” Jase said, shaking his head and laughing bitterly. “You stupid fucking moron. You do realize you're going to be stuck with this woman for life now, right? They don't do divorce or casual relationships like we do back home.”
“I know.”
“Then why in seven hells did you do it?” Jase growled in a fierce whisper, throwing his hands up. “Marry a complete stranger? Fuck, Grae, why would you punish yourself like that?”
“Because I couldn't save Lorel!” he barked, his voice a little too loud, then backed up a step, looking around self-consciously.
Jase blinked at him. “Who?”
Graeden sighed and turned away. “Never mind.”
“And what's another woman got to do with marrying a girl here?”
Graeden rounded on him, lowering his voice to a whispered growl as he said, “You wouldn't understand.”
“Try me,” Jase insisted, leveling a look at him.
The others watched them curiously but didn't say a word, and Graeden opened his mouth, about to tell them everything, when another voice interrupted.
“Not shirking our duties, are we, Doctors?”
Graeden glanced over and saw Zevic strolling toward them with a superior look on his face.
A second passed before Jase answered evenly, “No. No, we're not.”
He shoved past Graeden and went into their assigned room, Leni and Quinn following a moment later. Zevic gave Graeden a questioning look, and Graeden kept his face blank as he nodded to the man and joined the others.
The doctors picked up their first cases for the day and started in on exams, noticing that Zevic was making himself cozy in a corner of the room rather than simply making a few quick observations and then leaving again. Every once in a while, he'd come over to one of the doctors and question a diagnosis or recommendation, being more than usually stingy on allowances for medications and supplies.
“The wolf's in a foul mood today,” Jase muttered to himself while he stood by Graeden, writing up reports. “Didn't steal his woman, did you?”
“Lay off, Jase.”
“You just stay away from him today, alright? You've done enough stupid shit for one day.”
Jase spun away and put on a smile for his next patient, and Graeden went to his own, just catching the glare Zevic sent in his direction before the man strode over and stood at his side the entire time he spoke with his patient. Graeden checked his responses every time the bureaucrat questioned his decisions, and clenched his jaw when he went to write up his next report, Zevic following right beside him and reading over his shoulder.
Graeden tried to ignore him and continued writing, just waiting for the man to stop him.
Zevic started to point at the file, then stopped and straightened up. Graeden kept working, his jaw aching from resisting the urge to tell the man to fuck off, when he saw Zevic start.
“Well, well,” the man murmured.
Graeden glanced up at him and saw Zevic give him a look of approval before casually strolling off to the other side of the room. Without turning his head, Graeden followed him with his eyes, and saw him come to a stop by Zhadeyn as she set down one stack of files and picked up another.
Zhadeyn froze and looked down while Zevic came to a stop in front of her, his hands on his hips.
About time you did something right.
Graeden blinked and shook himself. He'd heard Zevic's voice, but the man hadn't moved his lips at all.
Zevic pulled the files from Zhadeyn's hands and set them aside, pointing at the door.
“Time to go home,” he ordered.
“What's going on?” Graeden asked, walking right up beside Zhadeyn and facing Zevic.
“She's a married woman now,” Zevic said with a sneer. “Her place is in the home, where she belongs.”
“But what about her work?”
“Well, she would need her husband's permission to continue working,” Zevic offered, “but I'd advise against it. You might have to suffer cold dinners if she keeps working, and I can't imagine that would be too pleasant.”
“Why would she need my permission?” Graeden scoffed. “She can think for herself.”
Zhadeyn fidgeted beside him but kept silent.
“By our laws, she can't work unless you say so,” Zevic told him.
Graeden glared at the man until he flinched and looked away, then turned to Zhadeyn.
“Do you want to keep working or would you rather be home?” Graeden asked.
“You can't ask her–”
Graeden held up a hand and cut him off. “I'm speaking to my wife, do you mind?”
Zevic huffed out a breath but shut his mouth and waited while Graeden turned back to Zhadeyn and gave her a questioning look.
She hesitated a moment, looking from him to Zevic and back, then said quietly, “I'd like to keep workin
g.”
Graeden nodded and looked at Zevic. “She has my permission. Satisfied?”
Zevic narrowed his eyes for a moment before forcing on a smile. “Of course.”
With that, the man turned on his heel and swept from the room. Taking a deep breath, Graeden reached out and lightly brushed his fingers along Zhadeyn's arm, and she glanced up at him briefly with a hint of a smile before she took up her files again and left.
“You Agori have some strange ways,” one patient called out, shaking his head.
Graeden shrugged. “To each, his own.”
He went back to his file, writing out the last few lines, and looked up to see Jase watching him curiously.
Later that day, while the four Agori doctors endured an awkward lunch break, Jase suddenly broke the silence by muttering, “I'm sorry.”
Graeden looked up and realized Jase was speaking to him.
“For what?”
“What you said earlier,” Jase said. “'To each, his own.' You're right.” He held up his hands. “I don't pretend to understand what in seven hells you were thinking, and I still say you're in for a lifetime of drama, but it was your choice. None of my business.”
Graeden nodded. “Thank you.”
“Well, now that we've got that out of the way,” Leni said with a laugh, leaning forward and lowering his voice conspiratorially, “admit it: The sex was awful, right?”
“Actually,” Graeden said, glancing around quickly to make sure no one was close enough to hear, “despite her being completely naïve about the whole thing, it was pretty damn good. Better than anything I ever had with Iora.”
“No way,” Leni breathed, and Graeden nodded. “Well, you'll need it, 'cause gods know these women can't cook worth a damn.”
“Oh, she can cook,” Graeden said with a grin.
“Fuck, dude,” Jase muttered, shaking his head and laughing. “How'd you manage?”
Graeden took a deep breath, thinking over everything he'd been trying to escape for the past several years, and shrugged. “Maybe my luck is finally changing.”
“Alright, men,” Zevic called out, clapping his hands as he strode into the room. “Break time's over.”
“Or maybe not,” Graeden groaned, and the others joined him in a laugh as they gathered up the remains of their lunches and went back to work.
