As he watched, this much younger version of The Dark he knew well came closer still and reached out a hand to the face of the Princess. At this gesture, Talis felt sharp anger rise. The Dark’s eyes, framed on one side by his sacred tattoo, were now deep with desire, his mind clearly set on the path of seduction. Then he smiled. The smile of a man who expects satisfaction.
At this, the memory abruptly ceased and Talis pulled back his hand, unsettling the Princess enough for her to murmur in her sleep.
For The Dark to look on the young Princess this way and dare to lay hands on her was cause for much anger, but into that turmoil bled some reason. In this memory, The Dark was not much older than Pagan, an age when the Princess Khatrene had likely not even been born.
Whose memory then was this, and how did it come to be in Khatrene’s mind? Talis closed his eyes and saw again how Djahr’s mouth moved, made the same movements himself searching for the sound, yet found no sense in it.
If only he had the Plainsman skill of reading silent lips.
‘Cous?’
Pagan’s call was soft, but it roused Talis from his thoughts and urged him forward. The pleasure of having the Princess in his arms now contrasted sharply with foreboding. This evening they would reach the King’s Volcastle and the destiny of the White Princess would unfold. How then would her Champion protect her from that which could not been seen, but only sensed?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Khatrene lay snuggled against Talis’s chest, feigning sleep. She’d been awake for half an hour and felt so refreshed she was sure she could walk three days without a rest. But she was playing fox. And why? For —
COMFORT.
I was just going to say that. Where have you been?
WATCHING SPARROWS FALL.
Khatrene let that go over her head. Why did you tell me Talis was going to sacrifice his future? Nothing happened. He’s fine.
HIS BODY IS WHOLE, the voice agreed.
Khatrene’s ear was against Talis’s chest and she could hear his heart; solid, even beats. He’d probably been carrying her for hours and yet she could sense no tiredness in his arms or his breathing. Physically, he seemed fine. But that had her wondering …
Then what did he sacrifice?
‘Look, Cous,’ Pagan said. ‘The marsh breaks. And there. The lowlands of Volcastle mountain.’
Talis stopped and Khatrene thought this might be an opportune moment to wake up.
‘We will wait here under cover until nightfall,’ Talis said. ‘The sun’s light is too … harsh for the White Princess.’
What?
‘Cous?’
‘Fetch kindling for a fire. We camp here.’
Khatrene heard Pagan move away, muttering, likely the same thing that was going through her mind. What sort of light could be too harsh to walk in?
DO YOU NOT TRUST YOUR CHAMPION?
Is this a test?
The voice said nothing.
Khatrene opened her eyes, slowly, and found Talis already gazing at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘A four hour march from the Volcastle, My Lady,’ he replied. ‘You will find your brother’s welcome arms this night.’
‘Just four hours?’ Khatrene couldn’t believe they were so close. After all this anguish, only another four hours. She felt so excited she wanted to run all the way but as Talis set her to her feet and stepped back a pace, his solemn expression smeared the happiness from her heart like a bug on a windscreen. Wait a minute. This wasn’t … ‘When we reach the Volcastle, will that be goodbye?’
He simply looked at her, and Khatrene felt hollow, sick. Once he’d delivered her to her brother she was never going to see him again, and suddenly, incredibly, the idea of exchanging Talis for Mihale was terrifying. How could she survive without Talis? He made her feel so safe, so …
At last he spoke. ‘I am your sworn Champion, Princess,’ he said. ‘Only death will take me from your side.’
It was a couple of seconds before his reassurance sunk in. He would still guard her. She could have Talis and her brother. But she’d heard something else in his voice. Reluctance? She remembered the voice’s prophecy, ‘he will sacrifice his future for you’. Would her security be bought at the expense of his happiness? Could she live with that?
Could she live without Talis?
‘I’m glad you’ll be my Champion,’ she told him, then realised that was probably the most selfish thing she’d ever said. So much for remembering how to be a princess.
He nodded, said, ‘And this nightfall you will find a brother.’
She nodded back, and was unable to suppress her own excitement. It kept bobbing up and pushing her lips into a silly grin. ‘I can’t believe he’s so close.’ She wanted to hug Talis for happiness but had the sense not to do that. So she just grinned at him and though he clearly didn’t want to smile, eventually he couldn’t help himself. In fact, she almost saw his dimples. Almost. ‘I can’t wait to see Michael,’ she said.
MIHALE.
‘Sorry. Mihale.’ She grinned again. ‘How many hours did you say?’
‘Four, but we must wait until dark.’
‘Why —’
TRUST, the voice warned.
‘Okay,’ she held up her hands. ‘I can wait.’ But her legs were restless. She couldn’t stand still. In four short hours she’d have her brother back. She could watch that slow smile travel from his lips to his eyes, count the freckles across his nose, hug him until her arms felt sore. And talk. She had so much to tell him. So many things to ask.
Pagan returned and started setting up the fire.
‘I’m starving,’ she complained, and he shot her a long-suffering glance.
‘I will hurry, My Lady,’ he said, then turned back to the fire, muttering something about chopping heads instead of vegetables.
Khatrene barely noticed. ‘I can’t just stand around. I feel like I’m going to explode. Can we go for a walk or something?’
Talis nodded, and this time she saw the dimples. ‘We shall expect a hearty meal within the hour. Cousin,’ he said to Pagan, ‘the Volcastle path is steep and taxing.’
Khatrene snatched Talis’s arm and headed towards the sunlight, wanting to bound over the exposed tree roots and rejoice in the mere fact that there wasn’t six inches of mud between her and solid ground. But Talis kept her at an even pace and before they reached the edge of the trees he steered her back into the shadows, intent on protecting her, apparently, from anyone who might be watching. Although, heavily cloaked as she was, it was hardly likely that anyone would recognise her.
Still, Khatrene was too happy to care and she contented herself with snatching glances at the sunlit grass and singing Somewhere over the rainbow far too loudly.
Finally, when some of her restless energy had burned off she slowed down and said to Talis, ‘Do you know, I missed my brother so much that I ached for him.’ She shook her head slowly, remembering. ‘Ten years of aching. Can you imagine how good it’s going to be to see him again?’ The grin came back. ‘I’ll probably crack his ribs hugging him.’
Talis’s smile softened. ‘I know something of love, My Lady,’ he said.
‘Of course you do. Oh, and listen …’ She’d been feeling guilty about this, ‘I hope I didn’t upset you the other day, talking about Lae, and … love. It really wasn’t any of my business.’
He brushed her concern aside. ‘The Princess is expected to take an interest in the lives of her subje
cts.’
‘Yeah, but that was too personal. It wasn’t polite’
He stopped walking and gave her an unexpectedly penetrating glance. ‘Neither is the topic, My Lady’
Khatrene halted beside him, still holding his arm. ‘Love isn’t polite?’ That was a novel idea. ‘What is it then?’
‘Rude, overwhelming, unmanageable.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds like Lae.’
He let her go and sat on a long flat rock. She sat beside him.
‘If you wish to know of love, My Lady, I could tell you an old tale.’
Khatrene was intrigued. ‘Do tell,’ she said.
Talis seemed to settle himself, gazing out through the trees towards the sunlight. Then he began to speak. ‘Many generations ago,’ he said, ‘there was a warrior of my House who fell in love with a woman he could never take as wife.’
‘Was she married already?’ Khatrene asked.
He paused and she was about to apologise for interrupting when he said, ‘She was betrothed.’
‘And you can’t get out of that?’
‘Not this betrothal,’ he said sadly.
Khatrene didn’t know what to say. ‘The poor guy.’ For some reason she thought of the tattooed man then, and of the trouble she’d be in when her welcome was over and she told Mihale straight out that he wasn’t choosing her husband.
Oblivious to her inner dialogue, Talis went on, ‘Worse, the pain of love was doubled for this warrior. For not only was he unable to ask for her hand, he could not reveal his devotion to her.’
‘But why?’
‘He knew she would not return his love, and thought of him only with fondness.’ Talis glanced down, his eyes as sad as his story.
Khatrene felt moved to lay her hand on his, forgetting her own worries for the moment as she gazed at her Champion. How had a trained killing machine like Talis managed to retain such a sensitive soul? ‘So he didn’t tell her?’ she asked.
He shook his head, then looked back up into her eyes. ‘He would not threaten her happiness to satisfy his own desires.’
‘That’s noble. And sad.’ She was silent a moment. ‘So what happened to this warrior? Did he tell her in the end?’
Talis hesitated, but held her gaze. ‘No,’ he said.
Khatrene nodded, sighed. ‘It was the honourable thing to do, I guess. But I’ve done the “life of quiet desperation� and it’s not good. It eats you up.’
They were both silent then, Khatrene returning to her thoughts of the tattooed man. The closer they came to her brother, the more she struggled with the idea of telling Mihale about him. Was it fear of finding out the truth? So many hopes rested on a vague memory. For all she knew the man of her dreams might not even exist. And realistically, how likely was it that he was alive, available and even remotely interested in marrying her?
She sighed again. Sometimes life was just too hard.
‘Your mind is troubled, My Lady,’ Talis said. It wasn’t a question.
He looked so concerned she didn’t have the heart to remind him he wasn’t supposed to be using her title when they were alone.
‘Well, I’m happy to be seeing my brother again, but apart from that I don’t know what to expect. For all I know he might be arranging to marry me off in exchange for —’ she glanced at the monotony of brown around her, remembered where she was. ‘Not ten camels, that’s for sure.’
‘Camels?’
She looked at Talis for a second, then waved it away. ‘Too complicated. But the point is, I’m not some chattel he can offer to the highest bidder.’
Talis was wearing his usual patient expression. ‘You must trust that your brother loves you and will do what is best for you.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s best for me? I see it’s not only the technology that’s backwards here.’
‘Mihale is a teenager, who hasn’t seen me for ten years. And you’re telling me he’s the best person to choose a husband for me.’ Pause. ‘I don’t think so.’
Yet rather than justify his King’s power over her, Talis nodded, as though in agreement. ‘And if you could choose for yourself, Princess?’ he asked. ‘Would you choose from love?’
Clearly, women weren’t the only ones who liked to match-make.
TELL HIM, the voice said.
What? About the dreams?
YES.
Hmm. ‘Listen, I wasn’t going to mention this,’ she said, ‘But I’ve been seeing this man.’ She pointed at her head. ‘In my mind, I mean. He’s got a tattoo, and I’m sure —’ She broke off at the expression on Talis’s face. ‘You know him? You know this tattooed man? I knew it!’ She sprang to her feet, exultant. ‘I knew it was a real memory. He’s here, isn’t he? In Ennae?’
‘My Lady, this memory —’
She held up a hand. ‘No, listen, Talis. If this man is from Ennae, that means my memories are coming back. I’m probably going to remember it all.’
Talis was shaking his head, reaching out a hand to her. ‘My Lady, I must speak to you about this now. I fear you will be angry but —’
‘No, I was angry. Don’t you see?’ She took his hand in both of hers. ‘I hated growing up with no childhood, never understanding why I didn’t fit in. I was furious about not having my memories. I couldn’t accept it and I wanted someone to blame. But now I remember this man, and …’ Just thinking about him brought a wistful smile to her lips. ‘He’s given me hope.’ She focused on Talis again. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Talis was slow to nod. His gaze seemed to encompass her eyes, her smile, her fallen-down hair. ‘All too well, Princess,’ he said.
‘Then you’ll understand why I’m not going to let Mihale pick someone else for me when …’ She looked away, embarrassed for a moment, then forced her eyes back. ‘Just tell me if he’s married. That’s all.’
Khatrene bit her lip as she waited for Talis to reply. It seemed to take forever.
‘The man of whom you speak is widowed and may take a wife if he chooses.’
Khatrene felt her shoulders sag in relief. ‘I knew it.’ But there was more. ‘Is he … old? It’s just that he looks twentyish in the memory, and I’ve been gone such a long time —’
‘My Lady,’ Talis said quietly, ‘You have been gone only three of our years and the man of whom you speak celebrated thirty lifedays the year of your exile.’
‘So he’s thirty-three.’ She looked away. ‘He must have been older than I thought.’ She looked back to Talis. ‘Thirty-something is good.’ They gazed at each other in silence a moment before she added, ‘Is he a suitable —’
Talis nodded. ‘Eminently suitable, My Lady. Such a man as your brother may well choose.’
‘Great. That’s great,’ she said, but with less conviction than before. She wanted to be happy about this. Desperately wanted to. But something in Talis’s manner gave her pause. Some hesitation or … something he wasn’t telling her. ‘I’m wondering … what if he doesn’t want to?’ she asked. ‘Marry me, I mean. What if …’ He doesn’t like me, was the unspoken part. The unspeakable part.
‘I cannot know his heart, My Lady,’ Talis said, and she suddenly realised why he had
come over all stiff and proper.
‘Oh.’ She covered her mouth. ‘Look at me, fishing for compliments. I’m sorry, Talis. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’ After all, he could scarcely tell her she was wonderful and beautiful even if he did believe it. He was betrothed.
She had to try and remember this was a different world from the one she’d left where compliments were tossed off as easily as fast-food wrappers.
‘My Lady.’ He lowered his head in what she’d come to think of as his minimalist bow. Then he stood and gestured for them to return to the camp.
She fell in beside him and they were companionably silent as they followed their noses back to the fire and Pagan’s delicious stew. Talis kept to himself after that and the hours crept slowly as they waited for nightfall.
Finally they were packed to go. Her Champion was tense, she could feel that through the hand that clasped her upper arm. Khatrene didn’t know whether his concern about stray Raiders was warranted, but she ran obediently out of the cover of the trees to cross the open space at a sprint.
Five paces out she stopped dead, staring. Talis’s hand jerked on her arm but she felt nothing.
‘That’s …’ A mountain rose before them out of the surrounding lowlands like … well, like a volcano. But its background was so alien, so unbelievable, her breath caught in her throat. Above the mountain, a caramel moon cast searing beams of light through the crystal sharp air, illuminating each contour and shadow in minute detail, yet Khatrene saw only darkness. A darkness so devoid of life that it ate at her soul. For the first time since her arrival in Ennae the sky was not blanketed in clouds. The curtain was drawn back and there was nothing familiar to anchor herself on.
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