“Have you seen what he’s going to do? You did not question him once. You did not even hesitate to tie me.”
“Not this.” Her twisted mouth reminded him to share a bit more. “Something similar. A wizard under a curse. They did everything they could to slow his use of power.”
“Was it enough?” And when he hesitated, “Did he die?”
“He lived, but the curse is still on him. They had no spell-cords, sweetling.”
“Did he kill them?” she whispered. “The wizards trying to help him?”
Mannemous’ return prevented him from answering. “Remember, Corrie.” Sverr touched her cheek. “I am right beside you.”
Mannemous knelt. “You will have to keep her as immobile as possible.” He unstoppered a small pot. The odor of acrid herbs pierced her nostrils. He dipped a finger into the compound then painted the balm across her forehead, under her eyes, a streak down her throat, then a wingspan over her upper breasts. He painted over the circle he’d drawn on her arm, an enclosing spiral.
“I thought you said no spells.”
“Not spells, just herbs. They will dull your senses.” He stoppered the pot and set it aside. Then he nodded at Sverr.
The Norther lay at her front. One arm slipped under her neck and across her shoulders, the other wrapped around her waist. One heavy leg draped over her thighs.
Mannemous pushed her head into Sverr’s shoulder then gripped her left arm.
Expecting an onslaught of pain, Corrie tensed, but he was doing nothing, not even re-circling the spot over the seal. Was he waiting for the herbs to absorb? Her right arm, twisted behind her, tingled like it was going to sleep. Her legs ached. A muscle twitched in her calf. Sverr’s arms were tight, clasping her to him with not an inch for movement. Heat poured off him, and—.
Pain shot into her. She jolted, but there was nowhere to go. The burning ramped up, power poured into the fire to blaze white-hot behind her scrunched-up eyes. She writhed, but arms shackled her, allowing no escape.
She knew Sverr held her. His voice she heard, repeating something over and over. Pain thrummed in her arm, distinct from the fire that ravaged through her, as if the bane witch plucked at something. And then the pain ramped up. She screamed at the assault, her body bucking against the restraints.
Words came at her. She couldn’t decipher them. The voice seemed familiar. Pain coursed through her and drowned all sound, all sight, all smell. Her body wracked with it—and still it continued, burning into her, through her, part of her, cutting her into bits. Black verged across her mind, white-hot against the fiery pain.
Power flared out of her, incandescent.
The pain ramped up even more. Flames flashed over her. Red settled behind her eye lids.
And then nothing.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Aching. Raw. Empty.
Sense seeped in, a slow ooze that gradually tinted the black. Slowly she recognized the ache that stiffened her frame and throbbed at the base of her skull. Slowly she realized the rawness that scoured her throat, her joints. Slowly she understood that the emptiness left in her body came from the poison that had pervaded her entire frame.
A sob escaped.
A hand smoothed over her head, tucked behind her ear, trailed along her jawline. “Awake, sweetling?”
“No.”
“Here. Drink.”
“No.” But he lifted her anyway. She whimpered, wanting to escape back into the blackness. Coolness touched her lips. Liquid puddled in her mouth. Wine.
“Swallow, Corrie.”
That was her name, she remembered. She obeyed. Another sip was offered. Another swallow was urged. She obeyed then turned her head away. She wanted water. She tried to say it, but nothing came out.
She was lowered down. Under her was hardness. From somewhere came heat, but she was cool, blessedly cool after the fire that had ravaged her body.
She kept her eyes closed, still seeking the black void of no pain, no memories. Light flickered through her lids, refusing that escape. She remembered Sverr. She remembered Mannemous—and the seal—and the pain.
The men talked, low, desultorily, as if they had long ago exhausted any common topic. Her lids flickered up. They sat behind her. The fire was behind her. The lighted spheres had dimmed. She lay on the colored mats. Had they not moved her—after?
She didn’t want to move, but something dug into her hip. She still wanted to weep, but she felt too exhausted. “Can I—?” Her throat protested. A dry swallow didn’t give ease. She tried a whisper and hoped they would hear her. “Can I have water?”
“Not wine?” Sverr was already beside her, already lifting her.
“Water. From Brom’s waterskin. I can—I can sit up.”
“Certain?”
“Please.”
She swayed when his arm slipped away, but he steadied her before going to the gear he’d carried in. She lifted her lashes to watch him, but when she would have had to turn her head, it was easier to let her eyes close. Mannemous stirred behind her. It sounded like another log was dropped into the fire. The bane witch came to her, arriving when Sverr did.
Corrie opened her eyes as Sverr dropped down beside her. She kept her bleary gaze off the bane witch as her Norther supported her while lifting the waterskin for her to drink.
The water slaked her thirst as the wine had not. Its coolness eased her throat’s rawness.
He pulled it away.
“Sverr—more.”
“In a little bit. You should eat.”
She shuddered at the idea. I’m . . . parched. Not hungry.”
“In a little bit. How do you feel?”
“Scoured.”
He lifted her left arm, showing her the tight bandage. “The seal is gone.”
“All of it?”
“Entirely gone,” Mannemous said promptly. “I had to open up several tracks along your arm. It had sent out roots to hold it in your flesh.”
“Why . . . the bandage?”
“A precaution. It’s partially healed. I’ll finish the healing in the morning, I swear. But meanwhile, I have an herbal concoction to kill any infection , and the bandage protects it as much from you as from anything else.”
Sverr’s arm tightened around her. “I had a hard time holding you while he worked.”
“And I wasn’t certain if the memory would be so strong when you awoke that you tore at your own flesh again.”
“Where . . . is the seal?”
“Gone to ashes.”
“You burned it.”
“Yes, and scattered the ashes to the wind.”
“How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours. Mannemous healed your rope burns as well.”
“Sverr, did I—did I hurt you? I felt my power flare up.”
“You passed out before it got dangerous, sweetling.”
Corrie nodded and leaned more heavily against him.
“Tired, lass?” They talked over her, then Mannemous added, “Corrie, are you cold?”
She lifted her lashes, not remembering when she’d closed her eyes. “Blessedly cold.”
“We can put her in my bed.”
She realized her eyes had shut again. It was too much effort to open them. “No. Here’s fine. With Sverr.”
“I won’t leave you, Lyse Oyne.”
She smiled at the naming. He lowered her onto the mat. She heard them talking again. Then no more.
Chapter 12
Corrie woke a second time to the memory of pain and her relief that it was gone.
She lay on her back, tucked beside Sverr. The fire crackled off to her right, but she didn’t have the energy to turn her head to look at it. She stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance. They romped over the exposed beams and the shingled sheathing while she slowly catalogued her surroundings.
Mannemous had extinguished his lighted orbs. Sverr breathed deeply, his exhalations ruffling her hair. His care warmed her. His stated claim on her worried her ev
en as it satisfied some deep part of her. Just looking at him, all ice and dark winter, sharp angles and muscle, sped up her heart.
She recalled a faint echo of his voice during the pain, but that memory was tattered, the holes of it ripped with surging heat. Someone said they’d healed her.
She remembered the miller’s boy. He’d broken his leg during a repair of the water wheel. After Laienn had straightened the bones, Corrie had poured healing magic into his body. The boy had writhed under her hands. Was that how healing felt? That fiery pain? Had she hurt people with her first fumbles into healing magic? Hurt them even as she helped them?
Sverr shifted onto his side. His heavy hand planted on her belly. “What?” he asked drowsily. “I can hear you worrying in my dreams.”
“I didn’t know healing could hurt,” she said hoarsely.
“It doesn’t. Usually.”
“How many have I hurt? How could I not know that I put them in greater pain?”
He rubbed a soothing circle. “Sh-h, sweetling. Healing only hurts when it’s a curse you’re countering. You have eased people’s pain. You’ve hurt no one that you’ve helped.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. You never encountered great evil until you met the Prime and his lot. Only one woman in all your years of training died, and no other healing did you find remarkable because anyone suffered. Is that not true? Mannemous had to dig that seal out of you. It had sent sucker vines along your sinews. That hurt, I know. I was glad you fainted before he pried the seal out of your flesh.”
“It is truly gone?”
“Every bit out of you. Burnt entirely with power. I watched close. Stop worrying. That’s behind you.”
She fell quiet, enjoying the sensation of his soothing hand and the slow melting it generated inside her. Yet harsh reality kept her from slipping back into sleep. “Enstigorr is ahead of us. Did Mannemous truly promise to go with us, to remove any seal from Brom?”
“He swore he would.” His voice softened. He nuzzled her cheek. “Breathe now, sweetling, nice and deep. Again. And again.”
She pulled her head away. “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking.”
“Is that all that’s got you, just worry? You don’t have any more pain?”
“The memory of pain,” she whispered. “The echoes in my bones, but no real pain. I may not say so tomorrow.”
“You can flick it away. Do you feel sick? Mannemous said the seal had poisoned you.”
“Nothing like that. Now that the seal’s gone, I realize how weary I’d become. It was so gradual—but,” she added as he scooped his arm around her to scoot her closer, “nothing like that now.” She turned a little and ran her hand up his arm, to his shoulder. “I feel quite . . . alive.”
“Not sleepy then?”
“No, but I know something that would relax me enough to sleep.”
“We leave first thing, Corrie. You’ll be regretting that missed sleep tomorrow.”
“Will you regret that missed sleep?”
“Corrie,” he warned, but his bulge belied his pretense of caution.
“I want you.” She scraped her nail on his scruffy chin. His arm tightened. “I want you now,” she added huskily, her throat still raw. “Since he’s coming with us, we won’t be able to.”
“Oh, I’ll find a way,” he vowed, but he also rolled her to her back. He jerked up her skirts like he was desperate to mount her. She opened her legs, but only his hand found her. “You’re already wet.”
“I told you,” then she gasped as two fingers penetrated her.
“Hurt?”
“No,” she hissed, not wanting him to stop.
He pressed his thumb to her nubbin while he thrust with his fingers. “How’s this?”
“Gods,” she groaned.
He chuckled in her ear then changed what he was doing, barely grazing her with his fingertips, spreading her slickness with the lightest touch. She clutched her skirts and dragged them higher. Her hips lifted, seeking a surer and deeper contact.
“Please, Sverr. Don’t tease.”
“Hush.” But he played her clit with more firmness. Her need ramped up. Her legs opened wider, trying to coax him between them. Her opening grasped for him, empty and needy. “Look at me, Lyse Oyne.”
She opened her eyes, never knowing when she’d shut them. In the firelight his features looked stark, drawn tight over his bones, and she knew the teasing also maddened his desire. He dipped his fingers into her then lifted them to his mouth, licking off her slickness. She groaned. The tremors started.
“Not yet, Corrie, not without me.”
“Sverr, please.”
He pushed his trews down and settled between her thighs. She grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, but he held off, rubbing against her, slicking himself on the need weeping out of her.
“In me,” she ordered.
He huffed another laugh. “I like it when you’re demanding.” He reached between them and positioned himself. His push was steady and sure, and Corrie groaned as he filled her. “That what you wanted?”
She dug her nails into his shirt. “Don’t stop.”
His laugh turned to a groan as he withdrew then thrust in. She locked her ankles as he set up a steady pace that pleased them both. Flesh on flesh filled the room, but Corrie didn’t care. His balls slapped her every time he drove into her body. Thought began to fragment until it was only him, only Sverr, only his pale blue eyes burning down at her, his cock filling her, his breath becoming hers, him possessing her. When she gasped his name, he slammed his mouth onto hers, his tongue penetrating with the same rhythm as his body.
It was fast, intense, glorious. Sverr pounded into her, and she came with a shuddering wail.
He lifted his head. His eyes glowed with some inner fire that re-ignited her desire. “Love your eyes, Corrie. Keep looking at me. Keep holding me. Don’t let go.”
“I won’t,” she husked. “I can’t.”
He kept thrusting. His eyes held hers, looking more deeply than physical possession. He scooped one hand under her buttocks, changing the angle, and hit something that intensified her pleasure. She nearly howled with delight. His eyes gleamed. He rode her into another orgasm. As she clenched around him, he lost his rhythm. Her sight sheeted white-hot, and then he jerked and shot hot streams into her.
Time suspended while everything settled. He hung over her. Sweat dripped down his temples. She soothed it away with her thumbs then leaned up to press kisses to his chin, his jaw. He dipped his head and took her mouth. This kiss wasn’t possession but something else. He lingered, a simple kiss that touched her as deeply as his cock had.
Sverr eased from her. His seed seeped out, but she was too weary to wipe it away. He pulled her skirts over her legs then lay down beside her. He looped an arm over her hips and pillowed his head on her breast. “Sleep now, sweetling.”
He heeded his own words and soon breathed deeply and evenly. Corrie rested a hand on his neck as she stared at the shadows still dancing on the ceiling. How many days before she willingly walked into Enstigorr’s cells?
Sverr would save her; he had sworn to. She had no doubt that he would try. But would he succeed?
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Mannemous groused about waking at dawn. He groused about Sverr’s coffee. He groused about packing and about leaving his cabin untended. “Who knows how long I’ll be away?”
“Set up wards,” Sverr gave as a solution. He whistled tunelessly as he packed new supplies and winked at Corrie when the bane witch wasn’t looking. She hid her grin in the coffee steam. She had woken up cheerful as well. Even her muscles’ protests when she’d cleaned up behind the heavy curtain hadn’t dimmed her cheer.
The bane witch didn’t look her in the eye until Sverr headed out to saddle the horses and the mule. Then he dragged his chair before her perch on the three-legged stool. “Not too sore to ride today?”
“Only my arm aches this morning.”
She hid her blush behind the tin cup. The cooled coffee had only a swallow left, but she pretended to sip. When she lowered the cup, those lichen eyes were still fastened on her. A line creased between his straight white brows.
“Do you love this Norther, lass?”
“Is that a question you need an answer to?”
“If I’m to get within a day’s walk of the Prime, it is. Do you love him?”
“What is love?” she dodged.
“You are too young to be a cynic. Is he your first?”
“Why do you ask?”
He huffed at how she answered with her own questions. “Last evening Sverr told me more about your situation. I think you love him—or you are mad for returning to Hardraste.”
“His brother—.”
“His brother is not a good enough incentive to martyr yourself. I do know magick weaves between you two, strong magick. I suspect the reason is your emotions tangled with the first penetration of your body. Ah, another blush. Not so cynical, Corrissidy?”
His use of her birth name barely registered. She chewed her lip. Magick wove between them? She had never heard of such, yet now was no time to pursue that rabbit’s trail. “I never claimed to be cynical. Wary, aye. I have reason to be. But not with Sverr. He and I have come far.”
“And still have far to go. He claims you for bond-mate.”
“He also swears he will not leave me to Enstigorr, and I believe him. You are coming with us; you must believe him as well.”
“I do, strangely enough. He is much like his brother, insanely determined and capable of working miracles when others fail. Freeing Brom and keeping you free, however, will not be a float down the river. How is he to get word to the Prime that he has you and wants to exchange you for his brother? How does he know Brom has not been corrupted from his weeks in those cells? How does he plan to sneak back in and help you escape? He has too many variables that he hasn’t planned for.”
“I know this, Mannemous. You do not tell me new things.”
“Yet you continue blithely on, both of you, sweetly satisfied after your rutting, with only the skeleton of a plan.”
She ignored the aside about his disturbed sleep. “Do you have a better plan? One with all its flesh on?”
More than a Wizard Page 16
