by Lizzy Ford
The three nodded, with the wind mage taking the room between the two warriors. Tieran stopped at the fourth door and opened it. Sela hesitated.
“I don’t get my own room?” she asked innocently.
At his look, she entered quickly. He closed the door behind her then dropped his saddlebags on one pallet. Stripping out of his weapons, he placed them with more care on the pallet and pulled off his boots. Satisfied, he stretched out on the other pallet.
Sela frowned at him. “Why are we traveling with them, and why are we really stopping here?”
He lowered his arm from his eyes to look at her. “Do you read my mind?”
“No. But I know you’re hiding something.”
“It's not your concern.”
She threw her cloak at him. “It is indeed my concern!”
“You will go where I tell you to, mage!” Irritated, Tieran sat up and flung the cloak away.
“I will not!”
Tieran stood. Instead of backing down, she crossed her arms.
“I have a right to know my own fate,” she added. “You said I was free. This is not freedom!”
He eyed her and took a step towards her. Sela retreated while refusing to cede the point. When her back hit the wall, she sucked in a breath, waiting.
Tieran placed his palms against the wall behind her and braced an arm on either side of her head. He leaned down until their eyes were even, their noses almost touching.
“We stopped here, because I’m going to kill the man who murdered my sisters, mage.” The words, spoken softly, carried the full weight of his conviction and fury.
“I won’t be used for vengeance,” she reminded him.
“I don’t need you. I plan to do it myself.” After a breath or two, he dropped his arms and returned to the bed, flinging himself down again.
She leaned her head back. If anything, she was irritated Tieran had yet to see a use in traveling with a mage. He claimed not to need her. Was it because he doubted her, or because he wanted to do this himself?
A confrontation with him always left her drained. She sighed in exhaustion.
“Come here, mage,” he said. “I know you cannot sleep alone.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she retorted.
“If I have to come to you …”
“Must everything be a threat?”
“Now.”
Sela hurried forward, hating herself for reacting to his tone. She sat on the pallet and pulled off her boots then settled with her back to his side, as she used to Karav. It was harder to relax here than on the horse.
“He’s gone.”
“I know that.”
“You think of him often,” Tieran observed.
“What I think about is not your concern.”
The pallet rustled, and he shifted behind her. Sela almost objected when Tieran wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her into his body. He placed his other beneath her neck, jostling her until she relented and lifted her head to allow his bicep to fill the space between her head and shoulder. Sela started to wriggle out of his grip, uncomfortable with the warmth streaking through her body.
“Settle, mage,” Tieran growled. He wrapped his arm around her neck and brought her head back to his shoulder.
With a sigh, she obeyed. Her body went lax. She did not want to be comfortable in his arms, but she was. With the wall of strength at her back and his secure grip, he made her feel more fragile than she wanted to be and safer than she had felt since setting foot in the Inlands. He was warm and solid, his body molded against hers.
“No more starving yourself or refusing to sleep.” Tieran’s voice was quiet.
“I’m in-”
“You are trying to join him in the water magic or whatever it is you believe will happen if you kill yourself. I hear those thoughts.”
She strained against him.
“Karav is gone. Refusing me or harming yourself won’t bring him back.”
Sela stilled, focusing on her breathing. She did not want to admit he was right. She did not want to let go of Karav because that meant accepting that her life relied on a savage consumed by vengeance.
“Murdering your sisters’ killer won’t bring them back either,” she pointed out.
“No, it won’t.” Tieran’s tone was clipped. “But it might let me sleep at night without dreaming about how they died.”
Sela chewed her lower lip. Pain was in his tone. She did not want to admit the infuriating guardian she did not want was capable of emotion and depth. To acknowledge his suffering would threaten the buffer she had placed between them.
“You wish me to take my place at your side and yet you fail to accept yours is at mine, Sela,” he said, hearing the thoughts.
The unexpected gentleness in his roughened voice bothered her. She was able to deal with his domineering orders, but learning there was another side to him made it impossible for her to keep the distance between them she desperately wanted.
The pain and fatigue within her unfurled.
Karav was gone. She belonged to Tieran, who had been chosen by Karav himself to take care of her. She had no idea where she was going next, how they were going to survive the Inlands with so many enemies, whether she would ever return to her home again. She did not trust her warrior, whose duty to her was second to his vendetta, and did not know what alternative there was to staying with him.
Admitting any of this aloud, trusting Tieran, meant placing herself in a position where she would be vulnerable again. After losing Karav, she could not bear such a thought. Not when the pain remained fresh.
And yet … as different as Tieran was, there was much about him she found herself admiring, against her better judgment. If he stepped up and accepted his duty, he would be unrivaled, a mage-warrior matching those of legend. His potential left her in awe, while his obstinacy infuriated her. Was it possible to admire him and hate him at the same time?
If Tieran read these thoughts, he said nothing. It was a small mercy but one she appreciated.
10
She awoke when she felt Tieran move. Sela reached out for him instinctively.
“Tieran,” she murmured.
“I’m here, Sela.”
Sela sighed. She had been expecting Karav’s voice. The reminder he was gone left her empty, aching. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before asking the question she wanted to the night before.
“Tieran, why are we traveling with the others? You don’t need them.”
He did not respond. Sela’s gaze dropped to him. He wore his breeches and boots but was bare-chested, washing his face in a basin near the door. She looked his body over, impressed by the evidence of his strength, even after seeing him in battle and feeling how strong he was when he held her. His shoulders and back were broad, and muscles bunched and released with his movement. She found herself fascinated by the rounded shape of his thick biceps and the way his flared back whittled down to a narrow waist and hips. The transition was like stone worn and shaped by a river, slashed down the middle by a long cut from a sword.
As if feeling her gaze, Tieran turned. He was always guarded, even in private with her. He wiped his hands on a linen cloth then crossed his muscular arms.
Sela’s cheeks were warm. She cleared her throat, not understanding why she often felt self-conscious and fevered around him.
“I can heal the wound on your back,” she said. “It's a benefit of being trapped with a water mage.”
She held out her hand. Tieran shifted towards her. She motioned for him to turn around. Sela rested her palm against the hot skin beside the wound on his back. The agitated skin calmed with her touch and stitched itself back together.
He healed faster than Karav ever had. She experienced the faint trickle of water magic once more. It was not hers. It came from him.
“Better,” she said, frowning.
What was it about Tieran that made him special?
He was quiet as he pulled on his tunic.
“I am trying to determine where we are going,” he said at last.
She looked up. “What do you mean? We are not going back to your uncle’s?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because being there puts my clan in danger.”
“You should’ve listened to me,” Sela said.
He settled a look on her, and she busied herself with her boots once more. When he turned away, she glanced up.
“I know how it feels to leave your family,” she murmured. “I’m sorry the magic forced you to go.”
“Dress quickly.”
She frowned, dissatisfied.
He strapped on his weapons. The sight of Karav’s sword on Tieran’s back made her pause. Were they destined to be at odds with one another for the rest of their lives?
“Tieran, I…” She stopped when he glanced at her. He’d feel what she wanted to say, but he showed no sign he was going to finish her thought this time. “Will we ever be friends?”
“Were you friends with Karav?”
“Yes. We trusted one another with our lives.”
“It might be possible one day for that to be true.”
Why did his answer disappoint her? Did some part of her want him to trust her? Her to trust him? “I know where we can go. Where I grew up, the palace –”
“No.”
A knock at the door made him tense. He motioned her to step back then opened it. A servant boy stood outside with his eyes on the ground and his hands thrust above his head. They held a satchel. After a glance down the hallway, Tieran snatched the satchel and closed the door. He sheathed his sword and dumped the contents of the leather bag on the bed.
“This was in Karav’s saddlebags,” he said. “No gold. Only these.”
“Messages,” Sela said, gazing at the six scrolls of varying quality and size that tumbled out. “This one looks old.” She lifted the message whose parchment was cracking with age.
“Waste of a good satchel,” Tieran muttered.
“Tieran, this one bears the seal of the royal house,” she said, surprised. They were all addressed to Karav, which meant they were now Tieran’s. “May I open them?”
“Why would I care?”
“They’re marked for my warrior.”
Tieran’s disinterested glance was enough of a response. He was positioning his weapons around his body.
Sela started with the one that appeared to be the oldest. Its quality of parchment was the worst, and the unfamiliar seal chipped. It was not the seal of a noble house but of a tradesmen’s house.
My brother, Karav:
I write to thank you for the silver and to remind you I would rather see your face again than coins. Your nephews grow stronger each day and say they will follow you to the Seat of Vurdu. I tell them they are better off as sheepherders, like their father.
She smiled, reading the spirited message to Karav. It was dated over a season before, before Karav took her away from the palace city on their strange adventure. She had never thought to ask Karav about his past. She did not even know he had a sister. The letter showed the signs of having been read many times. Karav had taken few personal belongings with him, and this was one.
Troubled by her own oversight, Sela lowered the missive. Worse was knowing Karav’s sister likely would not know his fate. She studied the seal, unable to determine what exactly it was with half of it missing.
She knew Tieran’s family history after knowing the Inlander for only a sennight. How was it she never thought to ask Karav anything about himself?
“What does it say?” Tieran asked, sensing her mood change.
Sela held it out to him.
“I don’t read.”
“You can’t read?” she echoed, astonished. “Every civilized …”
He eyed her.
“It’s a letter from Karav’s sister to him.” Sela smiled. “It’s charming. His family misses him. They don’t know he’s not coming back.”
“Men die every day.”
“I can’t just dismiss him that easily!”
Tieran said nothing.
“I don’t see him as a sheepherder, either,” Sela mused. “His family was noble in name but seems to be very poor.”
“Sheepherder?” Tieran snorted.
Sela hesitated, eyes on the five remaining scrolls. She was excited but worried about what the one bearing the royal seal would say. Was she being banished from the kingdom after being away so long? Was there a warrant out for her, the way there seemed to be from the other kingdoms?
Or … a command to return home?
The seal was broken, meaning Karav had read it. He never mentioned it to her, though.
She opened it. The long, thick cloth was stamped with colorful seals and careful drawings of the Seat of Vurdu beneath writing that was finer and evener than any she’d ever seen. She frowned. Her father’s seal was missing. It was unusual for it not to appear immediately beneath that of his brother, the king.
Sela skimmed through the formal, flowery language of the court. Her breathing froze in her chest as she reached the specifics of the decree, and she lowered the message, staring into space.
“What is it?” Tieran’s impatience was clear in his voice. He took the message and held it upside down. “What are these drawings?”
“The colors are seals of royal and higher noble houses from those who advise the king,” she said. “It is how they show support for a royal decree.”
“This is a decree.” He tossed it. “You know my thoughts on such matters.”
“No kings, gods or priests will tell you what to do.” Sela stretched for it and rolled it. Looking over the remaining four scrolls, each bearing the seal of a high level noble house, she decided she did not want to know what they said. “My father’s seal is not here.”
Had her father not agreed with the marriage everyone assumed would occur?
Puzzled, Sela debated not telling Tieran what the decree said. There was a time she thought she would welcome the words within.
What had changed and when? Was it the newfound knowledge of why her king wanted her in the first place? To use and then breed her like livestock? Was it her desire to be free?
Or … the silent objection from her father, in the form of the absence of his seal? She had missed him every day since he left. Had he sent word to Karav at all the past fourteen moons?
“Speak, mage,” Tieran ordered.
“It’s a decree from my king to return at once to the Seat of Vurdu to marry his son,” she said.
Tieran laughed. Sela flushed.
“What makes you laugh? That a woman mage is valued by the royalty?” she demanded.
“No, mage,” he said mockingly. “That any man – even a king – believes he can give such an order.”
“Do Inlander women have a choice in who they marry?” Sela cocked her head to the side, studying Tieran more closely. His roughly hewn features and hazel eyes gave no sign he took the decree seriously. Why did she expect him to?
Maybe because, until now, she had assumed Karav would obey every order their king gave. Yet he had received this order without informing her, and defied it openly to continue searching the Inlands for Tieran.
“Do kings usually decree who nobles wed?” Tieran asked.
“Always,” she murmured. “Nobles are required to seek his permission before marrying, or to wed who he directs.”
“We are Inlanders. We answer to no one and neither do our women,” Tieran said. He made it sound simple. Relief unfurled within her. She didn’t know why she had been worried he would return her. Was not a palace life what she always wanted? And to marry the king’s son?
“My father doesn’t support the decree, or his seal would be here,” she said and tossed the missive in the pile of scrolls. “Perhaps that’s why Karav didn’t tell me or take me home.”
>
“Your father couldn’t just tell the king he refused the command?”
“That’s not how things are done in my kingdom,” she replied.
“Here, you can decide whom you marry,” he said.
We answer to no one. She had never had a day in her life when she did not answer to someone. She still did not, not with Tieran. He was different, though, and Sela considered what she knew about him. He did not have the desire to obey his king or gods like Karav did. No, the Inlander did not recognize any authority outside his own vows, and she was one of them.
Which left her confused. There was a part of her that yearned to be at court again, in a place where she was never cold or hungry or dirty, where she was safe and protected and treated well.
It was also a place where her movement would be restricted once more. There was no endless sky or fields and hills if she was to live within the palace walls, and she would become a tool for the king to wield as he saw fit before he treated her as an animal to be bred.
“Do we not need some level of protection from all those who seek me out?” she asked, conflicted. “The king could grant that.”
“Aye, he could and then lock you in the dungeon until he was satisfied with the amount of heirs you produced.”
Her face grew warmer. “Aren’t you concerned that we might not have a choice in where we go one day?”
“There is no need to think of tomorrow if we can’t survive today.”
“If I don’t return, they’ll send men to hunt me down. What would you have us do?” she asked. “Live on horseback and sleep every night on the ground?”
“There is no shame in such a life, especially if it keeps you alive.”
“Don’t you want a home, Tieran? A family?” she persisted, distraught. “To be able to sleep in your own pallet without worrying about whether or not you’ll wake up to find a sword at your throat?”
Tieran stilled. The Inlander was quiet before resuming his movement.
“We both had homes once, and here we are. You can have those things without settling in one place,” he said in a hard voice. “If you disagree, maybe I will collect the gold your king puts on your head and leave you in his dungeon. A life on horseback suits me.” Defensive once more, he reached down to snatch the saddlebags off the ground.
