by Lizzy Ford
Nyan kept the sword at her throat, forcing her to remain still. He tore off her cloak and sliced through the laces of her gown, his blade piercing her skin as he did so. He shoved her face first against the wall and lowered the sword. His hands grabbed at her breasts and butt and the sacred hollow between her legs. He wrenched her gown off and pulled her shift up.
Rather than cry out or fight, Sela closed her eyes, ignoring the hands grabbing her body. No fear penetrated her mind – only Nyan’s explanation of how he murdered Tieran’s sisters. Fury unfurled with her, a different kind of anger than any she had ever felt. Whether it was hers, or Tieran’s rage was wearing off on her, she could not tell.
Seconds later, water dripped down upon her from above. Sela looked up towards the clear sky and the smoke-like form of water moving and curling above her.
Nyan’s rough hand brushed her thigh, and she unleashed the water against him.
He gave a startled curse before he was lifted into the air, his limbs and midsection gripped by the murky tentacles of well water. She pushed her shift down, unconcerned with her own disheveled condition when faced with the man who had raped and murdered all three of Tieran’s sisters.
She stood, frozen in her anger, unable to process her emotions in a way that would allow her to act. Karav had warned her against ever taking a life, unless absolutely necessary. She had not thought it possible to want someone dead, for her soft heart to urge her to kill.
Before today, she had never met anyone who deserved to die.
Nyan shouted unintelligible words. Her focus was on the water. Her anger drew more of it, from the water stored in the innes, to the barrels of mead, to the tiny stream half a league away she had not felt before adrenaline and the cool energy of magic hit her blood.
Clouds formed overhead, moving too fast to be natural, and filled with more water that responded to her summons. Lightning rippled through them. More water amassed around Nyan, supplementing the tiny bit of power in the well water to keep him afloat and away from her.
The fresh, cool trickle of water through her was refreshing after several moons in the dry Inlands. Sela turned her face towards the droplets of water, rejoicing in the flow of her power and unconcerned by the man held tightly within her grip.
“Sela!” Tieran’s urgent shout preceded him by a breath or two.
She faced him as he rounded the corner. He was coated in blood, his sword drawn.
Tieran’s gaze swept over her before he looked up. He trotted to her. He drew her against his muscular, wired body instinctively, and she relaxed. His hot blood was no match for her cool magic. He shuddered, though the feral fury in his gaze did not settle with his blood.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“No,” she replied. “But he ruined the gown you bought me.”
Tieran released his breath. “The gown does not concern me!”
“I wanted to crush him but …” She looked up briefly before returning her gaze to Tieran’s. “I think you should.”
“You won’t beg me to spare him this day?”
“No,” she whispered. “What you do to him will be justice.”
Her mage-warrior’s jaw was clenched tight, his eyes on her face. They gazed at one another long enough for her to grow self-conscious beneath his intense scrutiny. She wanted to tell him she knew what the man ensnared in her water had done but could not voice the horrific truth. She understood Tieran’s anger and why he had disregarded his duty to her. She imagined his suffering and could only wonder how he lived through the dark days after his sisters’ murders. He had been forced to become her warrior amidst it all. In that moment, she saw past the duty she had arrogantly assumed he would perform, and peered into the soul of a man in pain, who had done his best to honor his oath to her, in spite of the agony and loss tearing him apart.
They were bound by magic, but in that moment, she felt as if they were truly connecting for the first time.
Uncomfortable with the intimacy of peering into his heart, she eased out of Tieran’s grip.
He released her, gaze on hers.
It was rare when Sela could think of nothing to say. She looked away finally and released her hold on the water. Nyan dropped to the ground hard enough to daze him. Overhead, the small clouds cleared, and the water snaked away, returning to where it had come from.
Sela walked away.
No sound came from behind her, and she turned the corner, leaving Tieran to his vengeance.
“Are you well?” Panting and bloody, Citon strode towards her from the direction of the battle. The sounds of dozens of men fighting had died down to the clash of a handful of swords.
She nodded and hugged herself, unable to shake the images in her head. “Are they all dead?” she asked.
“Almost.”
“Good.” Without looking at him, she walked towards the inne.
“Sela, are you hurt?” Citon called after her, concern in his tone.
“No,” she answered quietly.
“Vinian is sleeping. But if you need to speak to him, wake him.”
She retreated to the inne. Sela climbed the stairs to her room, entered, and sat on the bed.
She felt both ill and angry, vindicated Tieran would exact his revenge and sorrowful for the loss of his sisters. The feelings were too intense to be hers alone. Was their bond strong enough to convey his emotions to her, as well as hers to him? Or had his emotions been so powerful, they were conveyed to her this once when she used her power? She had felt his pain real enough for it to be hers. Was this yet another indication he was more than a mage-warrior?
Had she not heard Nyan’s confession directly, she would not have believed anyone to be capable of such heinous acts against a child. Karav had always protected her from danger, but she never knew he shielded her from the darkest truths in the world.
Seated on the bed, she pressed her back to the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her thoughts were muddled, and she let her mind float among them. She tried not to think about what Tieran was capable of doing to his enemy, or how long he spent doing it. He was, after all, an Inlander accustomed to brutal clan wars.
Hours passed, and the day grew on. Dusk darkened the sky outside the window, and a cool breeze swept through.
Tieran’s touch on her arm caused her to jerk away. Sela recoiled, afraid to find the Inlander who threatened her in her room.
Tieran dropped his hand. He was clean, his hair wet. No signs of blood remained on his body or clothes. He studied her and then turned away, tossing his weapons into a pile on the other pallet. The pallet sank beneath his weight as he sat at the other end of the bed from her.
The silence was charged, unpleasant. She wondered if he was reliving the deaths of his sisters or if he were dissatisfied with his vengeance. She had never seen him quite like this. She did not think him capable of the vulnerability she sensed.
After a hesitation, she crawled forward and settled behind him. Uncertain what to do, or even if she should touch him, she finally shifted close enough for their backs to meet and leaned against him. Her head dropped back against his shoulders. The tension in his back eased.
“Are we leaving tomorrow?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“West?”
“Northwest.”
Sela could think of nothing else to ask and subsided into silence.
“Did he hurt you?” Tieran asked in the lethal voice more dangerous than a shout.
“No.”
“Would you tell me if he did?”
“You would know if I lied.”
“Then why do you feel the way you do?” he pressed.
“He wanted to do to me what he did to your sisters,” she whispered. “I did not know such evil existed.”
“He is not the only one capable of committing evil.”
Sela swallowed, aware of how deep Tieran’s violent streak ran. It was not the time to remind him he had spared her and the wife and child of
his enemy. Even he had limitations. She doubted those bounds applied to his enemy. She did not want to imagine what he had done.
“I tried to convince him, but he refused to believe you were my servant,” she said, needing to lighten the mood of the tiny room.
Tieran snorted.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Minor.”
Sela straightened. “I can heal you.”
He peeled off his tunic. Her eyes settled on the multiple lacerations – sword, arrow and dagger wounds – that had landed across his muscular upper body. His vulnerability took on a different form.
He was not distressed or vulnerable at all; he was half-dead.
“How are you still on your feet?” she demanded, alarmed. “You are the fool, Tieran! Why did you not tell me you needed my help?” She rested her hands on his back. His skin was warm, taut over muscles bulging from the intense activity of his day. The simple touch sent a charge through her that left her grateful he did not see her shiver.
The wounds on his back healed. She stood and knelt in front of him, assessing the damage. Stab wounds oozed blood, while angry slashes marred his exposed skin.
“Are you too proud and foolish to ask for my help?” she snapped.
“If I die, I won’t have the satisfaction of chaining you beside a lake.”
She glared at him and pressed her palms to the parts of his chest not bleeding.
Tieran lifted her chin, gazing down at her. His ale-hued eyes were calm, his features as unreadable as ever.
“He was rough with you,” he observed. His thumb grazed her swollen lower lip.
She lifted her chin, but he held it in place.
“You’ve never flinched when I touched you before.”
Sela’s cheeks grew warm. “He’s not the first to treat me roughly. You have not been the most attentive guardian,” she retorted. “I don’t know how I have survived this long!” She pulled away. “I can take care of myself.”
“Unless I give you a dagger.” His amusement was a relief after his tense silence.
She climbed to her feet. “Since you are the mighty warrior, you can heal yourself.” She started past him.
Tieran caught her arm. “I have not been the guardian I should have been,” he said. “To you or my sisters. I have not given my oath to you the consideration it deserves.”
“Another apology the day after the first?”
He rose, crowding her, and she immediately wished she had swallowed the words. Her attention was torn between the fiery look he gave her and the expanse of bare skin stretched across his wide chest.
She dropped her gaze. She held her breath, uncertain why his scent was winding through her senses or how she had never noticed how much wider his shoulders were than hers. She could not recall noticing his body as much as she had the past two days, despite how often he used it to intimidate her.
Tieran stretched around her to pluck his tunic off the trunk. “Choose your battles carefully, mage.” He stepped away, towards the door.
She sighed. They were back to his expectation of a quiet mage, and her inability to follow through.
“I need more freedom to speak my mind,” she said. “I need for you to listen, even if you disagree.”
He leveled a long look at her. “If it involves your protection, you have no say in the matter.”
“Karav said the same, but not everything does,” she replied. “If we are going to roam the Inlands, then why should I not request to visit a lake or river? Why should I need permission to speak my mind to you at all? You are my companion as well as my guardian. How can I travel with you without saying what I wish to?”
He wiped his face. “Speak it respectfully, and I will attempt to listen. Call me a savage, or treat me like one, and I will leave you tied beside the lake.”
“Fair enough,” she said, not expecting him to bend at all. Did he feel the shift between them as well? “Will you tell me why we’re traveling with such dangerous companions?”
“It takes gold to survive. Both their kings are willing to pay.”
“As long as you don’t sell me.” She crossed her arms.
He could not be far from her without the madness creeping up on him, but he made no effort to claim he would not.
“You’re hurt.” He motioned to her.
She glanced down. Distressed by the encounter with his enemy, she had not noticed the bloom of red on her shift. She twisted to find its source. Her lower back was stiff, the skin at one side pulling and burning.
Tieran roughly spun her until her back was to him. “Clothes off,” he ordered and reached over for the saddlebag containing their supplies of ointments and bandages.
“I can do it,” she replied.
“Now.”
Sela sighed in frustration. She hesitated, and then lifted the shift over her head until the entire length of her backside was exposed to him.
“It’s not deep,” he said, touching her.
She jerked away, unable to help recalling how his enemy’s rough hands had violated her skin.
“Settle,” Tieran said, though this time, his quiet voice carried no threat.
She braced herself for a second touch and managed not to flinch when the cool rag grazed her torn skin. Gradually, she relaxed.
“You didn’t respond,” she prodded. “You above all other men I have known appear to have a price.”
“Inlanders respect oaths above gold. I will keep my word.” He tossed the rag and opened the jar of salve. “If they believe I will trade you for gold, all the better.”
“But would you?”
“You know that answer, Sela,” he told her. “Trust me. It’s what you want.”
Did she? Why did the idea confuse her? “I’ve only ever trusted Karav,” she said. “You have given me little reason to trust you.”
“Aside from saving your life and not doing to you what my enemy would have?” He tossed the salve and stepped away.
She replaced her shift and faced him, troubled. Of all the thoughts on her mind, trusting him was not the primary one. He studied her as if listening to words she did not voice, and she willed herself not to think.
“Say it,” he said finally.
She pursed her lips. “You already know!”
“Say it anyway.”
Sela grappled with herself before relenting. “I’ve never been on my own or stranded in a foreign land. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow or even if I’ll survive to see it. If two kingdoms are hunting me, then the other one and mine will be as well. You cannot face four armies. We have no gold, no plan, no allies, and you either don’t understand the danger of our situation or won’t share with me your plan. I have no control over my own life! Further, you have left my safety in the hands of my enemies! I’m … scared,” she said with some effort. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m scared, Tieran! I would go so far as to say I’m terrified.”
His intent gaze never left her. No retort emerged from his mouth. For once, he did not appear agitated with her outburst.
“What would make your enemies cease pursuing you?” he asked.
She blinked, not expecting him to discuss the topic with her rather than order her around. “If I resided in my own kingdom. The Inlands belong to no king. There is no army here to defend me, if we stay.”
“Perhaps. But you would also become a slave there,” he allowed. “It is believed you can create mages.”
“I don’t even in know if this is true,” she said. “This secret was allegedly stolen from the High King.”
“The truth doesn’t matter. Four kings believe it, which makes it true enough,” Tieran said. “If you’re here, you are a threat to no one.”
“True, but the king that possesses the water mage has an advantage.”
“Not only because you could fight for them,” he said. “But because of the bloodline. How long has it resided in your kingdom?”
“Five centuries. Maybe more. The High King’s line orig
inates from Vurdu,” she explained. “That connection is not easily dismissed.”
“Except he is dead with no heir, and the war looms.”
She nodded.
“They would come for you no matter what king possessed you,” he reasoned. “A weapon strong enough to win a war would not be left in any enemy’s hands without a fight. And what would the kingdom that had you do to you, once you won its war?”
“I am not a broodmare.”
“So you claim, but what value is there in possessing a water mage if there is no war to fight and no possibility of retaining another water mage to fight a future battle?”
She flushed.
“I may have no plan, and I may be an Inland savage who has never seen the world,” Tieran said slowly. “But I know war and battle, and I know the hearts and wills of those who fight them. You are safer here than you would ever be in any king’s court. You are certainly freer.”
Sela was unable to form a rational objection to his logic. If anything, she was startled by his clear vision. “But how do we outsmart the armies of four kingdoms?”
“We make pursuing you too costly for them.”
She waited.
“We leave early.” He motioned to the bed.
“How do –”
“Quiet, mage. Lie down and sleep.”
She observed him for a moment, suspecting he did not know the answer either. Irritated, she lay down on the bed on her back. Tieran blew out the candles lighting their room and stretched out beside her. He rolled onto his side to drape an arm around him.
“Do you feel better, now that you have had your vengeance?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So do I,” she said with a shudder. “I have never met a man I wanted to murder.”
“No one will touch you again, Sela.”
“Until I become a broodmare?” she snapped.
“Even then.”
Did he mean his words? In the dark room, she could not see his face to gauge how serious he was. After a moment, she rolled onto her side and relaxed against him.
“Unless you’re my broodmare,” he added with rare humor.
“I would choose you over Lord Winlin!” she snapped.
