Would Varian be able to elude the rebels hunting them? “I hope so.” He peered up at the sky. “You better get going, Zaune. There’s only a half hour until sunset.”
“You’re forgetting something, Light Blade.”
“What?”
The young scout raised one dark brow. “Darkness won’t stop us.”
For a moment, Arek was almost jealous of the Na’Chi and their ability to see in the dark. “At least you’re all good for something, then.”
One corner of Zaune’s mouth curled in response. “I’d take Rystin with me but I suspect he’ll refuse, so I’ll take Taybor and send Jinnae to get some of the others to help you with the prisoners.”
Arek nodded and the Na’Chi scout headed off.
“Tell the Handmaiden I’m sorry….”
The whispered plea drew his attention back to the Light Blade warrior lying against the house. He’d slumped farther down the wall. The hand gripping Arek’s arm released him and pulled at the leather thong around his neck until his amulet slipped free. The man’s fingers curled around the small disc, his eyes closed.
“Mother of Mercy…” His voice trailed off but his lips continued moving, praying. Arek inhaled deeply. The man wouldn’t be the first Light Blade warrior he’d seen die, but this was the first who’d forsaken his vows, defied Kalan’s order, and attacked those granted sanctuary. What had driven him to do so?
His last words indicated he regretted his actions. The Lady might ease his Final Journey if his repentant attitude was sincere. As the man’s lips stopped moving, his hand relaxed and slid slowly to the ground.
Arek reached out to press his fingers against his neck. No pulse. Another warrior lost in terrible circumstances. He rubbed tired eyes and sent a brief prayer to the Lady asking for Her to judge him fairly and for Her protection for Kymora and Varian.
Pushing to his feet, Arek stared around the village. With the onset of evening, the odor of smoke hung like a pall in the air, acrid and heavy, the haze low and thick. Half the houses had succumbed to the flames, another three were charred, still standing but uninhabitable. During the search for Kymora, he’d seen the wanton destruction wrought by the renegades inside the houses.
Blackened ash and tendrils of smoke were all that remained of the crops he and his warriors had helped the Na’Chi put in three months ago. The vegetable gardens cared for by both races of children were destroyed, the plants trampled or uprooted and flung around the enclosure. And only a handful of bleaters had survived the slaughter. Their plaintive mewls as they called to flock-mates who would never answer were a somber accompaniment to the quiet stillness of the evening.
Arek grimaced. What other casualties would the cleanup bring?
KYMORA shuddered, unable to shake the icy cold afflicting her limbs. Her teeth were chattering so hard the sound echoed back off the walls. It didn’t help that she was seated on a rock floor in the middle of a cave in a dress that continued to drip water.
Mustering what little energy she possessed, she wrapped her arms around her upraised knees and tucked her toes under the sodden hem, hoping that would help. Walking around, stamping her feet, movement of any sort would help generate body heat, but she didn’t know the layout of the cave. Her staff was gone. And so was Varian.
Rubbing the goose bumps on her arms, she listened for his footsteps. How long had it been since he’d left her? Would he come back? Her shivering increased.
What would she do if he didn’t? What if Veren and the other renegade ambushed and killed him? How would she make her way to safety when she didn’t even know where she was? Icy tendrils sprouted from the cold knot in her stomach, wrapped around her chest, and squeezed.
Shallow, uneven breathing rasped in her ears. Hers. Merciful Mother, she’d made enough of a fool of herself today already without imagining things like Varian’s demise or being abandoned in a strange place. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.
“Lady, You are my heart. You give me the strength to face my fears and harness them.” The mantra was barely a whisper, a familiar distraction; one she hoped would help her regain control. “Peace and harmony come from a disciplined and calm mind.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath and released it slowly, but every muscle in her body remained locked tight.
“Kymora, I’m back!”
Varian’s soft call triggered an overwhelming wave of relief. A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it. She scrubbed at the tears burning behind her eyes, denying them leave to fall, not wanting Varian to see just how close she’d come to losing control. Again.
A strange rasping sound filled the cave.
“What are you dragging?” Her voice shook, much to her dismay.
“I found the perfect bedding… forest needles. I had to break off a whole branch and bring it back…. Didn’t have enough hands to carry an armful of twigs and the wood.” The deep resonance of his voice stroked her raw nerves, taking the edge off them. “But don’t worry, it’s all just outside. I made several trips before coming in. Won’t be long before we have a fire.”
Varian kept talking even as he left the cave and all she could hear was the intonation of it rather than individual words. It didn’t matter. She was no longer alone. He was there, a steady, reassuring presence that warmed her more than the fire he built. The wood crackled and snapped, until she felt the air within the cave begin to warm.
“Kymora, you’ll catch a chill in that wet dress.” When his hand touched the nape of her neck, she shivered but finally began to relax. He cleared his throat. “You need to take it off. I’ll spread it out over the other side of the cave. By morning it should dry.”
Heat flooded her face, almost as hot as the hand resting at the base of her neck. He wanted her to unclothe? Lady’s Breath, she felt vulnerable enough without being stripped to bare skin.
She shifted a little closer to the warmth of the flames. “I’ll be fine now that the fire’s going.”
He moved away. “Kymora, you’re shivering. We both need to get dry and warm.” The slick sound of material being peeled from skin accompanied his statement, then she heard him squeezing water out of cloth. It splashed against the stone floor. Two thumps, one after the other, then more water splattered against the ground. “I’ll be lucky if my boots aren’t ruined by morning.”
Varian was undressing? Awareness zapped her as if she’d touched the flames of the fire with her bare hand. Her pulse picked up speed. For one long heartbeat she almost wished for the gift of sight. She’d felt the solid strength of his body beneath her hands. Muscles as hard as blade steel, smooth, sculpted by a life spent outdoors, honed by the need to survive.
Her lips parted, the temptation to ask warring with her more cautious side. Asking if she could touch him, to trace and shape his body with her fingertips so she could “see” him in his entire masculine splendor was out of the question. Varian rarely allowed anyone that privilege, but the desire to possess that freedom flared inside her.
What was she thinking? He’d want to know why, and that was something she wasn’t even sure she could answer. More warmth rushed into her cheeks.
“Kymora?” His question drew her from her thoughts. “Do you need help?”
“No!”
Silence greeted her outburst. Closing her eyes, she regretted her sharp reply. She twisted a piece of her dress with her fingers. What must he think of her falling apart like this?
“Is there some holy rule about disrobing in front of others I don’t know about? Are Her Servants forbidden to do this?” His drawled queries weren’t quite the response she’d expected. “Lady forgive me if I’ve offended you again, but you know how ignorant I am about these sorts of things.”
The gentle humor coloring his voice reminded her of the time she’d discovered him on the walkway to the Temple, leaning against the cenotaph stones of the Light Blades who’d died in battle against the Na’Reish. Unable to read the inscriptions, he hadn’t realized the signific
ance of the memorial. When she’d enlightened him to the true source of the disgruntled looks he’d been receiving from the humans passing by, he’d been mortified.
“Ignorant?” She huffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think irreverent would be a word more suited to you.”
“You and Lisella are so much alike. No wonder you get on well together.” His soft chuckle caressed her senses, but then his tone sobered. “Truly though, have I upset you?”
To spare herself embarrassment Kymora was almost persuaded to agree, but too many years as a Servant where the truth of her word was held in high esteem curbed the action.
“The only offense inflicted would be to my modesty.” She averted her head, too aware that the blush staining her face would easily be visible in the firelight. “Being naked in front of someone isn’t a comfortable thought.”
“And you think I feel differently?”
“Varian, I can’t see you.”
“When I sit down behind you to help you get warm we’re going to be skin to skin.” Her heart skipped a beat. “You read other people through touch, much more astutely than anyone gives you credit.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Vulnerability doesn’t just come through lack of sight.”
Each word was stilted, his tone reluctant. Others claimed he was distant, cold, reclusive, and there were times Varian reinforced that impression with his solitary behavior, but now, with her, she savored his consideration. His honesty struck close to her heart and it swelled with grateful affection.
Before she could change her mind, she stood and, in one motion, pulled the saturated material off her body and held it out to him. Without a word, it was taken from her outstretched fingers. As she settled back into her huddled pose, the heat flushing her body had little to do with the fire.
She listened to Varian wringing and laying out her dress. His bare feet scuffed the floor as he took his time preparing the bed of forest needles. Was the noise deliberate? Usually he was so silent she had to strain to find his location.
“It’s not the sleeping pad or clean linens you’re used to”—his fingers closed around her wrist and he tugged her arm to the right—“but it’s better than hard rock.”
She smiled as the fronds tickled the palm of her hand. “They’re soft and warm.” They’d been piled into a mound thick enough to stave off any cold or dampness rising from the cavern floor. “They’ll make a fine bed.”
Varian drew in a silent breath. The gentle expression on Kymora’s face proved a thousand times more preferable to the stark lines of fear that had pinched her face when he’d walked into the small cave. He was almost tempted to thank the Lady for giving him the right words to say, enough to distract Kymora from whatever dark thoughts she’d been contemplating.
Reaching for another branch of forest needles, Varian stripped the stem and added them to the bedding, then fed the stick into the fire.
“Aren’t you going to join me?”
He couldn’t detect anything in the tone of her voice, but he caught her scent, that light hint of summer flowers, but this time with a subtle minty freshness. Nervousness.
Unable to resist, his gaze strayed to the graceful curve of her naked back, so pale compared to the long strands of black hair that fell to just above her hips. Lithe muscles proportionally suited to her slender form, from the plump hint of her breast tucked against a raised leg to the flare of her hips and tender fleshiness of her buttocks, made her all woman.
Her skin was free of the spotted, uneven body markings that every Na’Chi and Na’Reish possessed. The absence of the natural tattoos fascinated him. His fingers itched to touch her. Was her skin as smooth as it looked?
In the flickering firelight, he could see every hollow and dip of her form, and what the shadows concealed, his imagination more than made up for. Enough that the lower part of his body began to burn with a deeper need, one he recognized and shouldn’t be feeling. Uneasiness spiraled through him.
She was naked. He was just reacting like any other male would. Nothing else.
“Why would any woman want Varian when there are other, unscarred males to choose from?”
He winced as the memory ran through his mind.
The group of young Na’Chi women hadn’t realized he’d been coming through the shrubbery near their latest camp, a cave at the foot of a rocky hillside in the forest.
“It’s a shame his face is scarred.”
The pity-filled comment was the last thing Varian had expected from his peers. His fingers stopped short of touching the jagged wound on his cheek.
The same female voice spoke again. “Rystin says Varian thinks it’s a badge of honor.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” another voice chimed in. “He’s a worthy scout.”
“What, because he killed the Na’Reish warrior who followed Hesia to our camp?”
“Well, no scout has ever done that before. And if he hadn’t, the Na’Reish would have found out about all of us.”
“He can fight to protect me… us, but don’t expect me to mate with him.”
The small group laughed. To a fourteen-year-old, the mocking sound was enough to heat his cheeks with shame and anger. Their behavior reminded him of the Na’Reish. How many times had he seen the Na’Reishi upper caste mock their underlings or others because of their physical imperfections?
He ground his teeth together. Why did a scar bother them so much? They’d grown up together. They knew he was more than his looks, didn’t they? He was about to step forward and berate them when the first female spoke again.
“Have you seen the look in Varian’s eyes when he kills?”
“What? The crimson hue? All the scouts show that color when they’re fighting.”
“No, not that. His are so cold and empty, but there’s something else.” Her voice dropped to a whisper but Varian could still hear her. “It’s almost like he enjoys it. Another reason I won’t be choosing him when it comes time to mate. Who wants an ice-cold killer sharing their bed?”
Her rank disgust and horror left Varian reeling, too shocked to think or breathe. Devastated by their collective rejection, he’d stumbled away from the cave, not because her comments had hurt him, that had come later, but because she’d been right.
He didn’t like calling on his Na’Reish half to help protect them. The aggression and violence he was capable of frightened him, but once that part of him took over, the battle rush consumed him. He did crave the victory, but wasn’t that assurance the result of knowing the threat has been eliminated? Instinct and necessity motivated him and every other scout in the group. Without that double-edged blade, none of them would survive.
The dual conflict tormented him even now.
In the months that followed, he’d paid more attention to the way his peers treated him, particularly the young women. No longer so naïve, he watched them cement friendships, enter relationships, and experiment. Their behavior toward him showed a distinct lack of warmth and acceptance they showed the other males.
Never one to accept defeat, it took him another five years to accept the lesson learned from the humiliating incident. His value to the group was measured solely through the strength of his arm. His worth came from his skill with the blade. Nothing else.
They tolerated him but their message was clear. No one loved a killer, especially not one who rode the high of the carnage afterward.
Looking back, if it hadn’t been for Hesia’s love and encouragement acting as a counterbalance, he might have given in to his darker half and become the demon everyone feared. Instead he’d channeled all his efforts into ensuring her dream to see the Na’Chi safe succeeded. Without that driving him, what else was there to hold on to?
Varian sucked in a deep breath. His nostrils flared as Kymora’s delicate scent filled his lungs and drew him back to the present. The friendship she’d instigated filled a hole inside him, one he’d never realized existed until recently.
He rubbed at the ache in the center of
his chest. The growing tangle of emotions he felt when he was around her were becoming more intense. They scared him. Adrenaline-pumping, chest-squeezing, heart-stopping fear he could accept, it was something he’d dealt with on a daily basis all his life, but this fear burrowed deeper, sensitizing every nerve ending in his body and turned it inside out.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, but one thing he knew for certain: Friends were all he and Kymora could ever be. There was no way he was going to leave himself wide open for rejection again.
“Varian?” His name stuttered on her lips and she hugged herself harder. A fresh ripple of goose bumps decorated her skin.
His decision to share body warmth now seemed like a bad idea. The pain of reliving a childhood memory hadn’t lessened his arousal. There’d been no exaggerating when he’d complimented Kymora for her skill at reading people. She was going to get a very clear idea just what he was feeling for her once he sat down. But he couldn’t let her continue to freeze.
Shaking his head, he tried to control his erection and quell the need feeding it. It took a few minutes of disciplined concentration, and while sweat beaded his skin and his hands shook, he felt confident that he wouldn’t frighten her or disgrace himself.
“Sometimes, in the deep of winter, the Na’Reish patrols came close to where we lived, and we couldn’t risk lighting a fire. Not even one for cooking.” He sat down behind Kymora, stretching his long legs to either side of her. Curling his arms around her, he covered her smaller hands with his, keeping his hold loose as she tensed. He cradled her against him in almost the same position he’d used by the river. “We’d huddle together like this for hours to avoid succumbing to the cold.”
Where she was pressed against his chest and abdomen, her skin was cold. He rubbed her fingers, massaging each digit to get her circulation flowing again.
“Is this why the children are always so quiet?” she asked. “I remember the healers’ apprentice, Rissa, telling me that the first time she played a game of tag ball with them, they were appalled by the amount of noise the human children made. Did the patrols ever find you?”
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