Son of Truth (Follower of the Word)

by Morgan L. Busse

Drake’s gaze was drawn to the pouch. “Show me.”

  Farien opened the pouch and poured out the rest of Lore’s wealth. Drake narrowed his eyes, his fingers slowly stretching toward the coins and gems. Farien gathered the treasure back into the pouch before Drake could touch it, and he cinched the pouch shut.

  Drake dropped his hand. He looked back at Lore. “Who are you? It’s obvious you’re no manservant.”

  “He is Captain Lore Palancar of the White City.” Farien wrapped his hands around one knee again. “You’ve heard of the Palancar family, haven’t you?”

  Drake studied Lore as if calculating. “I have.”

  “That woman you took is one of his guards.”

  Drake opened his mouth to say something.

  Farien cut him off. “We don’t want any trouble, Drake. I’ve heard you’ve had some problems with the woman lately. Not healing and such. So why don’t we find a way for both our parties to benefit.”

  Drake worked his jaw, glancing between Farien and Lore.

  Lore took a step forward. “While you decide,” he said, speaking for the first time, “I want to see Rowen.” He stared down at Drake. “Alone.”

  Farien smiled, catlike. “I would do what the man says, Drake.” He seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Drake raised his hands. “All right. But I want you to know that neither my men nor I have ever touched her. Those scars she has are of her own doing.”

  Lore frowned, a shard of ice piercing his insides. Scars? “If you’ve hurt her, I will—”

  “I said we haven’t touched her.” Drake stood and moved toward the door. “I have men surrounding this building.” He looked back at Lore. “So don’t think you can take her and run.”

  Drake led Lore down the dark hall. Lore breathed faster, his pulse racing now. All those weeks of waiting and worrying and planning, to now finally be here.

  Drake stopped before a narrow door, took out a set of keys, and unlocked the door. “Don’t try anything foolish, Palancar.” Drake stepped back. “Remember, I have guards stationed around this building.”

  Lore ignored him and walked into the room. A small form lay on a sleeping pallet just below a window. A beam of sunlight shone down on the bed, leaving the rest of the room dark. Her hair lay scattered across a dingy grey cushion. He didn’t need to see her face to know. The figure was Rowen.

  Lore let out his breath. He slowly crossed the room, his gaze fastened to her. The door shut behind him, but he didn’t turn around. His entire being was focused on the woman who lay a few feet away.

  He hadn’t been sure he would ever see her again, and now here she was. His hands began to tremble. He went down on one knee, almost afraid to touch her. He gazed at her head, at each beautiful strand of pale hair. Her face was hidden in the shadows.

  Word, thank You. Lore closed his eyes. Thank You for letting me find her.

  Warmth filled his being. He opened his eyes and reached for her shoulder. His fingers brushed the thin material. She didn’t move. He worked moisture back into his mouth. “Rowen?”

  25

  Rowen lay on her side on the stiff pallet. Bright Temanin sunlight poured through the window above her. She could feel the heat from the sun soak through the thin, long tunic she wore. She studied a crack in the wall, just below the window. Her gloved hand lay curled below her chin, resting against the linen wrap she now wore around her neck.

  She had dreamed about Lore again last night.

  A sharp stab pierced her heart. She remembered him with vivid detail: his blue-green eyes, sandy hair, and the burning inferno she could feel inside of him. He had laughed in her dream. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled into a ball on the pallet. She missed his laugh.

  Rowen heard the door open behind her. Not now, Drake. Her body still hurt from the last healing. Muffled footsteps crossed the earthen floor. She held her breath. Any moment, he would shake her awake and make his demands. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this before she snapped.

  The footsteps stopped behind her.

  Oh, Word, don’t let it be Drake! Her body stiffened at the thought of healing. Yes, it took less time to recover now. Why, she didn’t know. But the pain was always the same: intense, agonizing, retching. That never changed.

  A hand tapped her shoulder. She tensed under the touch.

  “Rowen?”

  Her eyes shot open, and her breath hitched. That wasn’t Drake. She knew that voice… But it couldn’t be. Her dreams were beginning to mess with her.

  “Rowen?” The hand gently shook her.

  She breathed harder and slowly turned on the pallet. A figure knelt near her. She blinked against the sunlight, then looked again. It couldn’t be—

  “Lore?” She croaked out his name and struggled to sit up.

  The hand moved to her back and helped her. “Yes.”

  Rowen turned.

  Lore—or at least the man looked like Lore—knelt before her.

  Her lungs refused to work. Adrenaline rushed through her body, leaving her tingly and weak. “You can’t be,” she whispered. “You can’t be Lore.”

  The man smiled. “Yes, Rowen, it is me.”

  Her eyes grew wide. She lifted her hand, hesitantly at first, and placed it on his face. His skin felt warm and bristly under her touch. The man had a scar along his jaw, in the same place Lore did. Her breath caught, and she looked again into his eyes. Deep blue-green. As she watched, they morphed into a dark grey.

  “You— But… how?”

  The man laughed. A long, throaty laugh full of mirth, and sunshine, and happy days. Her jaw dropped at the sound. He reached over and brushed her glove. “Yes, Rowen, it really is me.” His eyes came to rest on the linen scarf wrapped around her neck.

  “Oh!” Rowen grabbed her neck and turned. Oh Word, not this!

  The room grew silent. Her hand shook against the wrapping. She couldn’t let Lore see her. If he did… The joy from moments ago evaporated like a puddle on a hot day. He might understand the other scars: the smaller, less visible ones. But this one—

  His hand touched her face above her neck.

  Rowen drew back as if burned, holding the linen tightly against her neck. “Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me, don’t—” She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. Lore was finally here, and she didn’t want him here. Everything was messed up. This was not how she had pictured reuniting with Lore.

  “What happened?” Lore’s face was tight. “Did Drake—”

  “No, no, it had nothing to do with Drake.” A sob escaped her lips. Rowen hid her face with her other hand. Why? Why did it have to be this way?

  “Rowen, please help me understand.” Lore touched her hand again.

  Rowen flinched and batted away his hand. “Please Lore, don’t. Just don’t.”

  He looked straight at her. “I want to understand. I want to know what happened.”

  Rowen trembled. Her hand still clutched her neck and the linen scarf. She couldn’t hide the scar forever. Maybe it was better to show it to Lore now and be over it.

  “All right.” Her voice cracked, but Rowen slowly unwrapped the linen scarf, her gaze on Lore’s face. As she neared the end of the scarf, her stomach clenched. She could hear the rushing of her heart inside her ears.

  The linen fell away.

  His eyes grew wide, and he drew back. Rowen squeezed the linen in her fist but refused to look away. Let him see it all. Let him see what her dark journey had led to. Let him decide with all the facts whether he still wanted to be a part of it.

  His eyes were pinned to her scar, as though he could not draw away. “How?”

  Rowen swallowed. “I healed a little boy who was badly burned. His family was poor, so they could not afford Drake’s charges.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a choke. Lore still never looked at her. Her mouth grew dry. “They came to me in the night, and I chose to heal him. That burn…it would have killed him. Or scarred him so bad that he would be an outcast when he grew
up.”

  “So you took it instead.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Lore reached out his hand. Slowly he moved it toward her neck. Rowen held still. His fingers lightly touched the scarred skin. She fought the urge to flinch. His gaze moved back and forth across her neck. She couldn’t watch anymore, so she closed her eyes.

  A moment later, she felt his hand press gently down on the scar. She sucked in her breath. The heat from his hand burned along her skin.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  Startled, Rowen opened her eyes. Lore’s face was inches from hers, his gaze now on her face. He drew in closer, closer…

  His lips touched hers.

  The moment they touched, Rowen felt the fire inside Lore blaze to life. It enveloped her, warmed her, and drove away the shadows that had shrouded her for weeks on end. She closed her eyes. She could taste salt on his lips. Slowly she placed her hands around his neck. Lore deepened the kiss, his hand moving from her scar to her cheek. She reached up and touched his face, her fingers following the line of his ear and jaw.

  Finally, Lore backed away. Rowen opened her eyes and found him smiling at her. “I still love you.” He rubbed her lower lip with his thumb, his gaze moving from her face to the right side of her neck. “All of you.”

  It was more than she had hoped for. Rowen reached for him and buried her face in his tunic. The tears came like a heavy rain, soaking into his shirt.

  Lore’s arms came around her and held her. “I missed you so much.” His voice rumbled through his chest. “Every day I thought of you, wondered where you were. And I prayed the Word would watch over you.”

  Rowen clutched his shirt tighter. She could hear his heart thudding beneath his tunic. He smelled like salt and leather. She had missed him terribly.

  He moved his hand to her hair. “Rowen, I’m so sorry. I should have come with you…”

  “No.” Rowen sniffed and lifted her head. “If you had, Drake would have hurt you. Or killed you. Or left you. Just like he did to Aren and the other men. He left them on the beach.”

  Lore shook his head. “No. Aren made it back to Avonai. It was Aren who told me about your capture.”

  Rowen pulled away. “Aren made it back?”

  “Yes. And he made sure the rest of the men made it back too.”

  She let out her breath. “Then…they’re all safe.” It had been worth the cost. She had been able to save them. And now soon, hopefully, she would be saved too. “And Nierne? The woman from Thyra?”

  Lore didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m afraid not.”

  Rowen frowned. “I don’t understand. She didn’t make it?”

  “From what Aren could gather, Drake never freed her. He believes Drake kept her and sold her.”

  “Drake did what?” A ball of fury surged inside her. Rowen turned and stared at the door as if Drake were standing there. Her jaw clenched. She had agreed to heal for him if he’d freed everyone. Not most. Not some. But all of them. “That— That rat! I healed for him! I stayed here and kept my word to him because he promised to free them all! And he didn’t—”

  Lore pressed a finger to her lips.

  But Rowen still raged on the inside. All those weeks of healing! Putting up with snobby, rich elites. Serving that crooked man when at any time she could have left. Drake had not keep his word.

  “It’s all done now,” Lore said quietly.

  Rowen looked back into his face, and her anger began to dissolve. Lore was right: It was done now. And perhaps she had done some good through the whole thing—

  Wait. Something had happened. She thought back again on all those weeks. Her healing. It had become stronger. It no longer took days to recuperate. In fact, ever since she had healed the boy with the burn, she hadn’t blacked out at all. Tired, yes. But that was it.

  “I have an acquaintance who is negotiating with Drake about your freedom. But before anything happens, I need to say something.”

  The serious tone in Lore’s voice brought her full attention back toward him.

  Lore took a deep breath. “Rowen, I will never leave you again, not if I can help it. We will find a way out of Azar and head toward Thyra to finish the job you set out to do. “

  Shadonae. After weeks of just trying to make it between healings, Rowen had forgotten about the Shadonae. Lore’s words brought the heavy dark weight crashing back. Oh, Word, how could she go on, after everything else she had been through?

  “However,” Lore continued, “I want to travel with you as more than just a companion. I want to be more than that to you.” He looked at her. “I wish…to bond with you.”

  Rowen stared at Lore, feeling as though she had been punched in the chest. Lore did not blink, did not look away. Every reason why he should not bond with her tore through her mind. The long, dark road she must still follow. His position as Captain of the Guard. That she would never lead a normal life. He deserved better.

  But one look at his face, and Rowen knew he had already thought through everything. That was Lore: He never acted without thinking. He loved her even after seeing her scar. To bring up these excuses would be merely putting off her answer. He was ready to commit to her.

  Was she ready to commit to him?

  Yes.

  Rowen took a long slow breath. If he would take her—scars, truthsaying power, and all—then she would bond with him.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice barely moving past her lips. “I will bond with you.”

  His face softened, leaving a warm smile across his lips. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek and bent for another kiss.

  Rowen closed her eyes. Hope flared up inside of her. Never had she thought she would bond. Yet here the Word was presenting her with the one man she most loved and admired.

  Suddenly she saw bright possibilities for her life, a life past the Shadonae. A life with Lore, in the White City. They were older now, in her version. And there were children with sandy blond hair and sea eyes dashing through a garden beside a small log home.

  Could this possibly be her future?

  Rowen felt Lore back away, and reality returned. She opened her eyes.

  Lore smiled at her and stood. He held a hand out to her. “Come, let us see if Farien has finished the negotiations.”

  She took his hand. Lore gave it a quick squeeze and pulled her up. She was more than ready to leave. She spotted her stuff in the corner. “Let me grab my things, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Lore nodded. “I will wait right here.”

  Rowen let go of his hand and walked to the corner of the room, where her few belongings were wrapped in a bundle. She no longer had her smallsword—Drake had taken that away on the ship. At least he had let her keep her glove. Probably for his own protection.

  She stopped. A frigid presence washed over her like ice-cold water. Her heart seemed unable to find its rhythm. She placed a hand on her chest. Each breath was a struggle. Her fingers grew cold. What was happening to her? Rowen turned around and stumbled forward. “Lore, help—”

  “Rowen?” Lore surged forward and caught her before she fell. “Are you all right?”

  She drew in another difficult breath. Her heart was beating erratically now. “Lore, there’s something wrong. I feel…cold. Inside me. There is something here—”

  The door opened behind her. Rowen turned her head. Men poured in, dressed in black with a red sash across their chests. Short dark hair, earth-colored skin. Temanin men.

  Lore pulled Rowen to his side, placing himself between Rowen and the men. With his other hand, he drew his sword.

  The first man looked past Lore and pointed at Rowen. “We are here for the woman.”

  26

  Lore held his sword steady. “I don’t think so.”

  The other men, three now in the room, drew their swords. Long, curved blades, the likes of which Rowen had never seen before. “By order of the Temanin Council, we are here to take the woman.”

  “No, you won’t.�
�

  Drake made his way through the men and came to stand beside the first one. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” Only a couple of feet separated the Temanin men from Lore.

  Rowen stepped away from Lore. She bumped into the wall behind her and leaned against it. She rubbed the place over her heart. The pain from the cold flash was slowly subsiding, but the chill was still there. What was causing this? The Temanin men?

  Lore moved in front of her, shielding her from the men. “Drake, we had a deal.”

  “No, we did not. One of Lord Corin’s top people contacted me. She demanded I hand over the Mirelukahn. I had no choice. When the Lord of Temanin demands something, you give it to him.”

  Lore moved into a defense stance. “Did you know this before I arrived?”

  Drake’s face was devoid of emotion. “Yes.”

  “And yet you led me to believe that I could have her. You lying—”

  “Enough!” The first man in black stepped forward. “We are taking the woman, whether you like it or not.”

  Lore pointed his blade at the man. “You will have to go through me first.”

  The man’s face grew dark. “So be it.”

  With a shout, the Temanins rushed Lore.

  Lore brought up his sword up. “Rowen, get out of here!”

  The window stood to her left. But what about Lore?

  Swords clashed. Lore blocked the first man’s blow. “Now!”

  Rowen ran for the window. One of the other men went to intercept her.

  “No you don’t!” Lore twisted around and caught the man in the leg.

  The man grabbed Rowen as he fell. Rowen was knocked to the wall below the window, hitting her sleeping pallet with her hip. Her bundle tumbled out of her arms.

  She turned and kicked out, hitting the man in the face with her foot. Blood spurted from his nose, and he looked dazed. She scrambled back to her feet.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Lore move in a fluidic motion, each muscle in control, moving in synchronization, driving the other two men back.

  Rowen placed her hands on the sill and brought her leg up.