by Tenaya Jayne
The Heart pushed her out like a feather in a gust of wind. Journey felt the ground beneath her again. She opened her eyes. The wood jittered and blurred in her vision. The light on the ground moved away and back to the flames. For a few minutes, she just sat there, feeling her lungs fill and empty. Her vision cleared. The flames were different already. The charcoal color was swirled with a light purple.
Journey smiled and got carefully to her feet. She turned from the Heart and walked away, anxious to find Redge and tell him about her success. She found him in a few minutes. He was squatted down, looking intently at the ground.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Footprints.”
“So? People come through here.”
“Yes. I’m just looking. This area here.” He pointed. “The dryad graveyard…the wizard used to live close by. He’s dead now, but someone has been here recently. See?”
She looked. She didn’t see much, not perceiving physical evidence the way he did, and impatient to tell him about her experience, she reached out and took his hand. “Do you see anything dangerous?”
He looked at her. “Not necessarily.”
“Let’s go home. You won’t believe what just happened to me.”
She pulled him away. He glanced back, instinct telling him to pay attention to his gut. There was someone of interest in the Wood. An enemy perhaps.
****
Rahaxeris sat in the blank grey queue, waiting his turn alongside a row of androids. He felt the pressure of days going by, but in this waiting place, time was deactivated. It had been many years since he’d been to Polyhedron. It was a world of living machines. Devoid of emotion, it ran on balance, logic, and numbers. He had no doubt the leader, Nero, would remember him. He also had no doubt that Nero knew everything about the wizard’s plan and motives. He wasn’t quite as confident that Nero would tell him what he needed to know.
One more android stood and left the queue. It would be his turn next, and he would have to plead his case concisely. It wasn’t like him to be as emotionally distraught as he was. It was hard to focus on the logical arguments he might need to present to Nero, when he couldn’t stop thinking about his daughter and granddaughter. He reminded himself that their lives rested on his ability. Just like a combination lock on a safe, he felt his cold nature click firmly into place.
The android who’d gone ahead of him came back through the door. Rahaxeris stood. It was his turn.
He walked steadily into Nero’s seamless grey chamber. Nothing had changed since the last time he’d stood here. Not that he’d expected it to change. Nero sat in front of him, a beautiful shiny white android with large, liquid, black eyes. Blue lights and gears illuminated his chest and hands. The shape of his head stretched up and out, twisted around like the branches of a tree. Each white spire on his head also had a tiny blue light at the very top.
For lack of a better term, Nero was a king. But since he had no emotion and thus no ego, it wasn’t necessary for Rahaxeris to bow, or make any show of groveling.
He simply inclined his head. “Nero.”
“Rahaxeris of Regia. I knew you would come back sooner or later. What can I do for you?”
“The wizards…”
“Ah, yes. I know of that, and under no uncertain terms, condemn it.”
Rahaxeris felt a spark of hope in his chest. “Then will you help us protect ourselves?”
“Of course. Take that,” Nero said, pointing at nothing at all.
Before Rahaxeris could question, a white cube the size of a fist appeared and hung in midair in front of him. He reached out and took it. The material it was made of was unknown to him. It was solid and fluid at once. Deceptively heavy for its size.
“What is it?”
“A power harness tesseract. Don’t get too excited. It’s not total salvation.”
“Is it a gift?” Rahaxeris asked.
“It is. I ask nothing in return.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else?” Nero asked.
“Why are the wizards doing this?”
“Their entire plan, misguided as it is, is about survival, and an old feud among themselves. To put a finer point to it, it is about sex. The wizards are lifeforms with assigned genders and rely on their females for survival. They are not so different from any other male- and female-based people. The males are hard, and brutal. Their culture took a turn long ago that displeased their women to such an extent that they declared war. In their folly, the wizards almost annihilated all the witches. Those that survived took their daughters and left their homeland.
“Since there was no more procreation, the wizards set out to become immortal. They drained their world’s natural power resources in their pursuit. In need of new power sources, they ventured out from their world, searching. This endeavor to conquer many worlds is based on the power sources they discovered.
“In comparison, all Regian races are feeble. It is the Heart of your world they desire to possess and consume.”
Rahaxeris looked down at the cube in his hand. “I’m very grateful to you, Nero, for sharing this information with me, and for the tesseract.”
“Use the tesseract in harmony with the Heart of Regia, or this hope I have given you will only add to your doom.”
He gave Nero a little bow. “Thank you.”
Nero nodded and flicked one of his shiny fingers toward the door, indicating his audience was over. Rahaxeris left the room and walked back through the waiting area, anxious to get home.
Chapter Nine
Shreve discovered another flaw in his character. When it came to Sabra, at least, he had absolutely no self-control. She’d said she was coming back the night before. He’d decided to not see her again, because it would be better for her. But it was easier to feel conviction in his decision in the morning when the night was still so far off. As the afternoon wore thin, his resolve was pushed to the back of his mind, and fantasies kindled and began to burn. Then, as it became evening, determination crumbled to dust, replaced by a fluttering excitement.
You can’t do this, his guilty conscious insisted.
The desire was stronger than the guilt. He only wished he hadn’t told Asher that he’d decided to not see her again. It felt terrible to go against his word. He hated lies.
He looked at Forest’s sword clasped in his hand. Was it wrong to give it to Sabra? He sat down and sighed. Why was he so torn about everything? He’d meant to put the sword with the whip earlier in the day. He surely hadn’t intended to introduce himself to Asher. But he was so glad that he had. The old wolf had integrity, and Shreve longed to call him a friend. He seemed willing to give Shreve a chance and not condemn or shun him for his past.
He rested his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. He should just stay here in Maxcarion’s old home and not go out tonight.
But she was expecting him. He stood and strode out into the darkness, sword in hand.
He walked swiftly through the forest to where she’d been last night. The night was quiet. The only sound was the moving of the river in the distance. Perhaps it was too early for her to be out. He’d wait. What was he planning? Should he shift into wolf form now? He picked up his pace, walking toward the shifter colony. If he saw her tonight or not, he could leave the sword for her, so she’d have it in the morning.
He approached the house that served as her weapon’s hiding place and heard her, only a second before she stepped out from behind the ruined house. She was in silhouette, but there was no mistaking those curves, it was her. His heart rose up to his throat and choked him. She held the whip, moving her wrist lazily back and forth so the end slithered rhythmically like a snake on the ground.
“Hello,” she said quietly. “It’s you, isn’t it? My mystery wolf.”
He couldn’t move. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Now he’d have to speak to her. The only comfort he had was knowing she couldn’t see him clearly in the dark. He shifted his face just in case her e
yes were keener than he thought.
“I hoped to surprise you, so I could catch you in man form. Guess I have.” He could hear the smile in her words. “It’s odd, don’t you think? I know you so well on one level, but I don’t know your name, or anything at all about you.”
“Yes,” he managed, no louder than a whisper. “Sabra.”
“How do you know my name? I didn’t tell it to you, did I?”
He didn’t answer. “I’ve brought you something. A sword better suited to your size than the one you used earlier today.”
“You’ve been watching me more than I realized. I knew you had, obviously, by the fact that you messed with my whip. You did, right? It was you who changed it?”
“Yes.”
She took a step toward him. He could see more of her features. Her gaze held fast to his. He had no idea what he looked like. Under her scrutiny, he felt a shiver move over his face, as if it shifted without his consent.
A small gasp escaped her lips. “How can it be? I must be dreaming.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You look almost the same as you did in my dreams.” She dropped the whip and reached for him.
“Stop!” His voice was rough.
Her arms fell to her sides, and she looked at him, confusedly. “There’s something about you… something familiar, as if I’ve met you before… It’s your voice… Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you. I don’t really know who I am.”
“What’s your name?”
He didn’t answer her question. “I’m just trying to help you survive. Here.”
He reached out with his left hand, grasping her arm gently above the elbow. His hand slid slowly down to her forearm and then her wrist. His thumb pressed into her palm, opening her hand. His right hand brought the hilt of Forest’s sword to her palm. She wrapped her fingers around it as he let go and stepped back.
His hand curled into a fist, as if he could hold the sensation of touching her skin right there, imprinted forever. Now he knew what it felt like to touch her, but the knowledge was damning. It didn’t satisfy; it made the longing worse. He wanted to touch all of her. He turned and walked away, while he still could.
“Please,” she pleaded.
His heart tore and groaned in response to her voice.
“Please, tell me your name?”
He hung his head. She would have nothing but hatred for him when she wised up. Even still, he wouldn’t lie. “Shreve,” he managed quietly, letting go of the dream of her as he said it. He couldn’t look back. He heard her step toward him, and he quickly walked away. “Goodnight, Sabra.”
“When will I see you again?”
“You won’t.”
“It’s not going to be that easy, Shreve,” she called.
That stopped him. “What isn’t?”
“Shaking me off… What are you running from?”
“The more time we spend together, it’s just going to make it hurt that much more later.”
“You’re hurting already.”
He turned around. “How would you know?”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.
He frowned and shook his head. “I can’t. It would be a lie.”
She took a step forward. “Look at me.”
He did. After a second, he shook his head and backed away from her. “See? I feel like I’m drowning when I look at you, and all I want is to swim down. But you’re not for me. Only pain comes with getting close to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her smile flashed cruelly in the darkness. “You’re right, I’m not for you. I belong to myself. And you, like all the others, think you could hurt me so easily. You’ve got it backward. The pain comes from me. I bring it. I make it. So if you’re going to run, run because you’re afraid of how I will hurt you. Not the other way around. And if you do run, don’t ever come near me again. Just because I’m strong doesn’t mean I want a man who’s weak.”
He listened to every word carefully. “I could never be what you need.” He gave her a little bow. “Goodbye, Sabra.”
He turned and walked away from her. This time, she didn’t follow.
****
She watched the shadows swallow him up. This was all wrong. How could that have gone so badly? Her pulse boomed in her ears, and her lungs hurt as she breathed. She took the sword he gave her back to the weapon stash and laid it carefully with her whip. Her mind was momentarily numb.
For a few moments, longer than she thought, she just stood there in the moonlight, touching her arm, tracing where he’d touched her. Her skin still held the warmth. Shivers uncoiled through her. Despite what she’d said, he didn’t strike her as weak. Not at all. He was more, more than she’d imagined, more attractive than any other man she’d ever met. She had been certain that she would be disappointed when she finally saw his face, after her dream version of him. Her fantasy had been close but, to her amazement, had come up inadequate to reality. He was like his wolf form. His eyes were a deep green and his hair was blacker than midnight. His features were strikingly wolfish, and his mouth… Mercy, she wanted to see him smile.
Heat akin to a fever rushed in her. She touched her eyes. They were dry, but for the first time since Sophie had died, she felt the sensation that she might cry. The pressure in her temples both confused and angered her.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” she said quietly, thinking he couldn’t hear her. “I know how much you want me. I’ve felt it. We’ll see how long it takes before you come back for me.”
“Careful, Sabra.” His voice came through the shadows. “The beast that lives in me is different than the one inside you. Don’t tempt me so brazenly.”
She held still, waiting to see if he would come back. He didn’t. She turned and headed home, his words of warning on constant replay in her head. She grinned all the way home, the feverish sensation under her skin growing hotter. She’d seen his face. She knew his name. And she tempted him.
****
When Asher came to the shifter colony the next morning hours before dawn, Shreve was there, waiting for him.
“Hello,” Asher said easily. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to confess something.”
“Oh?”
“I broke my word. Yesterday, I told you I wouldn’t see Sabra again.”
Asher snorted and smirked. “Ah. And you did. Let me guess, you couldn’t help yourself?”
Shreve’s eyes lit up. “How did you know?”
“I was a young man once, too. Trust me, I understand.”
“I talked to her.” Shreve began to pace. “It was like…” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m losing my mind, and I’m diseased, or something. It’s like the most terrible torture, and I love it.”
Asher laughed. “Like I said. I understand.”
Shreve looked at him and sighed helplessly. “I gave her the sword last night.”
Asher walked over to the stash of weapons and came back out with Forest’s sword. He frowned as he looked at it closely, pulling it from its scabbard. He flicked his finger on the edge of the katana, making the silver ring. His gaze shot deep into Shreve.
“A product of your criminal days?” he demanded.
“Sort of.”
Asher’s expression grew hard. “Sabra will be here any moment. When she’s done with her training this morning, I want to talk to you about this sword.”
“You know it?”
“Yes. I do. I know who it belongs to.”
“I’ll tell you about how it came to be in my possession later, but so I can set your mind at ease and tell you now, Forest is my sister.”
Asher’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, then they came down in a scowl as he narrowed his eyes at him. “Hmm…” After a second, his expression smoothed. “I’m reminding myself of your openness thus far, and your affinity to confess things. And that I decided yesterday to trust you because my instinct told me to.”
“Thank you.”
>
“We’ll talk later. Now get gone. I don’t want you distracting my student.”
Shreve smiled. “Are you sure distraction isn’t what she needs to learn to fight through?”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
The sound of her approaching footfalls caught their attention.
“You think about it,” Shreve said, turning and walking away.
He went to what was becoming his usual spot to watch her morning training and used his elf blood to turn invisible. She walked into the space, yawning. It was damn adorable. She muttered greetings to Asher as she bound her golden brown hair back.
Aching spread through his chest. It was getting worse. This feeling inside him, every time he looked at her. Every time he thought about her. Asher said he understood. How could he? What did that mean? He watched her as she began sparring with Asher.
Asher made her abandon the whip that morning and focus on the sword. She did better with the katana than the broadsword, as he knew she would. Asher sounded stern, and Sabra sounded arrogant. Their voices bounced in his ears, but he wasn’t really listening to the words, until he heard his name.
His attention snapped up. Asher was facing his way.
“Shreve? Would you care to join us?”
****
Sabra froze. Oh, shit! He’s not serious, is he?
Her heart stopped as Shreve stepped out from the thick of trees and into her sparring arena. In the predawn light, she could see him more clearly than she had last night. Heat rushed to her cheeks as he locked his eyes on hers. Never, never had she seen anything like him. Her whole body lit up and filled the air around her with a gravitational pull that reached out like a net trying to catch him. Come to me. Touch me. You’re mine.
He moved toward her, obeying her silent summons. Asher seemed to disappear entirely.
“Hello, Sabra.” His voice hit her sideways. She knew his voice. But from where?
He smiled down at her. She’d wanted to see him smile, but she hadn’t really been prepared. Her racing, fevered brain crashed and held up a white flag. I give up. He wins. I can’t stand up against attraction of this magnitude. It’s hopeless.
