“I wanted to let you know because I believe the only thing averting this from happening to Varian is the connection you share with him. The last few patrols have been the toughest. He retreats to his room because he senses the others’ fear of him, and nothing either Zaune or I do can convince him to come out before the next day.”
Varian had needed her? Kymora’s insides tightened until it felt like she’d eaten a thorn-bush. “Why didn’t you come and get me? I would’ve visited….”
Why hadn’t he come to her instead of retreating to his room? She bit her lip, already knowing the answer. It hurt to think he’d rather suffer alone than allow her to see him as he was. He still didn’t trust her. His stubbornness frustrated her. Her heart thudded hard.
“You’ve been so busy and I’m aware of the pressure you’re receiving from your Order to cut back on the time you’re spending with us.”
“Oh, Lisella.” Her voice shook as her mouth pursed with anger. Not toward the Na’Chi woman but toward those who would dictate her actions. “If you think Varian needs me, I want you to promise to send for me. I’ll come, no matter the time or what I’m doing.”
Lisella released a shuddering breath. “Lady bless you, thank you, Kymora.” Her aura shimmered with relief. “You do so much for us already….”
“What I do for the Na’Chi is more personal than professional.”
“I know.” Her longer fingers gave hers a quick squeeze, strong and sure. “Varian’s never said anything, but I’m glad you two are… friends. He won’t tell you, but he wants you and he needs you.”
The stress placed on the two verbs hinted that the woman knew more about their relationship than she’d let on.
“What I share with Varian is precious to me, Lisella,” Kymora admitted, aware that her emotions were close to the surface and probably easy to scent.
“You care for him? I mean, as more than a friend?”
Kymora remained quiet for several heartbeats, unsure if she should elaborate any further.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about this now,” Lisella murmured.
Kymora shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve had the chance to talk to anyone about it. I do care for him. Deeply.” She issued a hard sigh. “But getting him to believe it is another hurdle.”
Lisella responded with a dry grunt. “Varian’s never let himself get close to anyone. That’s half the problem.”
“You do realize some of the women in your group can also be held accountable for that, too?” Her hands curled. “I’m sorry if I offend you by saying that, but they treat him like he has a contagion and all because he doesn’t live up to their image of a desirable warrior. Their prejudice toward someone with a physical affliction is appalling.”
“You experienced it when you lived with us.” That was delivered as a statement rather than as a question. “That prejudice is inherent in the Na’Reish, and we’ve had the misfortune to inherit it.” Her aura flared with a combination of joy and sympathy. “But you’ve gone past the surface and seen what’s inside him….”
“The Varian everyone sees is what you’ve all made him.” Kymora didn’t bother to soften her criticism. Lady forgive her for being so judgmental, but she couldn’t stand by and not say something now that the opportunity had arisen. “He might come across as strong and hard and surly, but there’s so much more to him than that. He’s just like any of us, with fears and desires and dreams, but he only sees his worth in terms of what he can do for all of you. He’s denied himself so he could be what you needed him to be. He’d do anything for your group. He loves you all that much!”
“I know.” Lisella pulled her into a tight hug, her voice thicker and huskier. “And I thank the Lady he has you. I had hoped… but I wasn’t sure whether you were trying to help him as a friend or priestess.” She let her go but still gripped her arms. Her voice lowered. “Varian mightn’t realize it yet, but he has a deeper bond with you than any of us. The day Zaune took you to see him at Rystin’s grave, all of us expected you’d return with him. When you didn’t, then brought Varian back to the village with you, his temper defused, it amazed us. Kymora, you reach him when no one else can. He responds to you, and as long as you can do that, then he can be saved.”
Lisella’s confidence in her was daunting. She might have made aiding people her life’s work, but that didn’t mean she was an expert. Nor did she want to just help Varian. She wanted there to be something more between them.
Friendship would be the foundation, yet what they shared now had gone past those boundaries. He desired her, and not knowing exactly where she fit in Varian’s world, or whether he wanted her there, created a whole new level of anxiety. And being unsure and uncertain played on her deepest insecurities. She should have talked to Lisella well before now, but so much had happened in the last few weeks.
Kymora inhaled a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Most times I have no idea what Varian is thinking. He won’t talk to me and I’m unable to sense his aura. He shuts himself off or blinds me with the intensity of his emotions. I feel like I’m searching in the dark. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, whether I’m helping or just harming him. How do I know I’m reaching him?”
Lisella patted her hand once. “What does anyone do when they feel threatened emotionally? They try to push you away… get you to reject them any way they can.”
Overhead the leaves in the tree rustled and mixed with the sound of flapping feathered wings. A squabble of twittering and chirruping broke out. The noise brought back the memory of Varian that night in his bathing room, when he’d surged from the pool and pinned her against the wall.
He’d tried to use not only his physical presence but also the other side of him to scare her, goading her to deny him out of fear. In the forest clearing he’d tried anger; before the Summer’s End Festival he’d used insults.
“He mightn’t tell you what he’s thinking, but he’ll show you,” Lisella said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “I’ve learned to look for what he does more than what he says, or doesn’t say. If he were the fearsome leader some believe he is, he wouldn’t play with or talk to the children. He wouldn’t have listened to Taybor and the others in his decision to come back to Sacred Lake. He wouldn’t have given any of us a choice.”
The sound of many voices chattering came from the direction of the Temple. Footsteps accompanied the wave of noise. Kymora drew Lisella off the pathway and onto the grassed area, searching for one of the bench seats she knew were scattered around the Temple Garden. The acolytes were emerging from their tutoring sessions for their lunch break.
They were well back from the pathway when the crowd descended, and by taking a seat, most would know not to interrupt them. The gardens were often used for private conversations or meditation.
“Kymora, Lady knows Varian can be stubborn, but don’t give up on him, you’re just what he needs. You see him and accept him for who he is,” Lisella stated, hands tightening on hers. “I won’t pry any more, but your courage is what will save him. You’ll help him believe in himself, never doubt that.”
A shiver trailed along Kymora’s scalp, then down her back. Reassurance and apprehension both came with her friend’s words. The Lady had said to her, her strength lay in her courage, and now Lisella had told her the same thing.
Her smile was wobbly. “I’m glad we had this chance to talk.”
“So am I.” A heartbeat of silence, then Lisella’s tone altered and became more businesslike. “There are five patrols returning this evening. I thought we could have a communal dinner in the common room. Invite a few close to the Na’Chi… Kalan and Annika, some of the healers, a few from the orphanage, maybe Jole and Yevni.”
She nodded. “Not too many or the scouts will retreat to their rooms.”
“I’ll go ahead and organize it for tonight. I’ll also inform those coming of the reason behind the dinner.” Lisella embraced her again. “Thank you for listening and understa
nding.”
She returned the hug. “See you tonight, then.”
Chapter 31
“THIS is Sacred Lake, Johy.” Varian tried his best to keep his tone soft, but there was nothing he could do about the guttural deepness. He focused on maintaining a gentle hold around the boy’s thin waist and sifting through the many scents pouring off him rather than the uncontrollable energy churning inside of him.
Bitter fear coated the child; the strength of it hadn’t abated since they’d found the small blond-headed boy near the burned ruins of his small farming croft. Other than the boy’s parents, who’d died in the initial assault by the Na’Hord patrol, the half-dozen surviving family members had been left alone.
Croft destroyed but no slaves taken. And they’d discovered the same results at the next eight farms, a disturbing change in behavior by the Na’Reish, one that Kalan needed to know about.
“See the cluster of people dressed in green near the stables?” Varian motioned with the hand that held the reins. Candra headed the group of healers waiting with the stable hands. “They’re going to check to make sure you’re well.”
If only they could help him as easily. This time his patrol hadn’t even engaged the Na’Hord; just the evidence of their presence had been enough to draw out the beast in him, and nothing he’d done could push it back. He’d spent the last several hours seeing the world in crimson hues, the density of the color dependent on his fluctuating moods. A worrying new development since he’d last experienced battle rush.
Varian squeezed the reins, hoping the sharp bite of the leather would distract him from the heavy tension crawling beneath his skin. Mother of Mercy, it felt like his muscles were turning themselves inside out.
Reining in the war-beast, he eased its pace to a walk, then to a halt as they reached the stables. The Master Healer was already issuing orders to her crew. Healers threaded their way through the patrol, helping Johy’s siblings and extended family dismount.
“Varian.” Candra greeted him with a nod as she peered up at him and his passenger.
“Take the boy,” he said, grimacing as the instruction came out more like an order. He lifted the child over the top edge of the saddle and leaned down to pass him to her. A second later he joined them on the ground. “This is Johy, his grand-elders, and siblings. His parents were killed.”
His terse explanation drew an assessing look from the older woman. The voices, the rumbling calls of the war-beasts to those already stabled, the salutations of friends and family meeting the returning Light Blades were all starting to set him on edge again. Varian was grateful the child was Candra’s primary concern for the moment. It would give him the time he needed to slip away and escape the crowd. Handing the reins to a stable hand, he grabbed his travel pouch and turned to leave.
“Second!” The hail came from Jole. The blond Light Blade warrior signaled him to wait.
Lightning-fast, his skin prickled with anger and frustration so intense his hands began to shake. His crimson vision altered to red, and what felt like a swarm of red-hot burrowers gnawed at his gut. He sucked in several deep breaths to stop himself doubling over.
His heart began to race. He heard it throbbing in his head. He reached out a hand and gripped the hitching post, unsure if what he felt was blood-hunger or the effects of battle rush. Or a combination of both.
Jole ducked under the neck of his mount, but as he drew nearer, his pace slowed and one eyebrow raised. Whatever he saw made him reassess what he was about to say. “I’ll make the report to Kalan and Yevni.” He nodded once. “You go take care of yourself. Feed. Rest. Sleep.”
Nausea replaced the red-hot burrowers in his stomach. “Thank you.” It was all he could manage.
Pivoting on his boot heel, Varian felt a tug on the sleeve of his arm. A pair of wide eyes in a pale face stared up at him.
“Johy,” Candra said, her softly spoken words gentle and soothing. “Varian has to go now.”
The small hand clutching his sleeve dug in tighter and the boy’s fear scent strengthened. His reluctance to see him go surprised Varian, considering the boy hadn’t said a word during the entire ride. It’d been a one-sided conversation all the way. Something must have reached him though.
Varian fisted both hands, torn between leaving the boy in Candra’s capable care and his need to go before the darkness inside him consumed him. The shaking in his hands had moved to the rest of his body. Sweat beaded his brow and itched on his scalp. The irritation made him want to snap and break something. He ground his back teeth together.
Lady’s Breath, he couldn’t lose it. Not now. The boy didn’t need to see him display any sort of violence. Not after the shock he’d suffered.
Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly crouched, meeting Johy’s frightened gaze. He grazed a finger along his dirt-smudged cheek. He shuddered. Touching the child centered him for a moment; the intense sensations warring inside him eased a little, drove back the nausea. He let his hand drop to the boy’s shoulder, wondering who needed the contact more. Him or Johy?
“You see that group of Na’Chi and humans over there?” he asked, amazed Johy didn’t flinch at his gruff tone. “They’re here to take you to your new home. Get you and your family settled. You’ll be safe with them.”
A small tremor vibrated through the boy. He shook his head and moved closer to him. Varian looked at Candra, not sure what else he could do for the child, not in the state he was in. He couldn’t depend upon Johy’s calming influence.
“Rissa.” Candra’s soft call brought the young apprentice over to them. “This is Johy.”
The freckle-faced girl put her healers pouch aside and crouched to be on eye level with the young boy. “Hey, Johy. I’m Rissa.” She placed a hand on the child’s arm. Her dark brown eyes glazed over a moment as she used her Gift, then a crooked smile curved her lips. “It’s all right to be afraid, but we aren’t going to hurt you.”
Varian watched the young ten-year-old healer work her magic on the child, chatting on about inconsequential things as Candra treated his scrapes and bruises. Varian stayed, not that he had much choice in the matter with Johy still holding on tight to his sleeve. But slowly Johy’s grip eased and Rissa convinced Johy to take her hand instead.
Able to sense injuries on the emotional plane, Rissa’s skill would prove invaluable as the boy was going to need her help after seeing his parents killed in front of him.
“I’ve some friends you should meet. They’re just over there….” She shared a conspiratorial smile with Johy. “They’re just like Varian, only our age. You ever played flutter-tag?”
And just like that, she led the child away to meet those who would see them settled into their new homes. Varian ran a hand through his hair and let out an unsteady breath, hoping some sense of normalcy would restore the child.
“He’ll be fine.” Candra’s soft comment drew his attention back to her. The healer’s dark gaze fixed on him. Her brows drew down and he knew she’d spotted the way his hands shook. Without contact with Johy, the symptoms had returned. “Now, I’m more worried about you. The flecks in your eyes are enlarged and they’re almost red.”
Varian rose from his crouch to avoid her outstretched hand. He didn’t think he could stand someone else touching him. “I’ll be all right. I’m just hungry.”
If it was possible, his voice sounded even more guttural. A figure broke away from the far group of people and came toward him. Lisella. Slung over one shoulder in a carry sling was a stoppered jug.
“Varian, don’t ignore what your body’s trying to tell you,” Candra said, her expression changing to one of deep concern. “You’re so restless I can feel the energy rippling off you. I don’t need to touch you.”
His stomach cramped, sudden and vicious. His skin felt hot, like he was burning with fever. Mother of Mercy, he was close to end-stage blood-fever. He pushed past Candra and headed straight for Lisella, knowing the flask would contain enough geefan blood to sate his immediate hu
nger, at least until he could get more from the kitchens.
“Varian!” Candra called. “Wait!”
He ignored her, wincing as everything went dark crimson. His head pounded and his hearing became hypersensitive. Conversations changed to garbled noise, like water rushing over a waterfall, every footstep sounded like a hammer, even the rattle of metal and rasping slide of straps on fur as the stable hands unsaddled the war-beasts felt like splinters being driven into his brain.
“Varian?” Lisella’s scent reeked of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”
“The jug…” The words felt thick in his mouth. He snatched the ceramic container from her, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t pull the stopper. A growl rumbled deep in his chest.
“Let me help….” She plucked the stopper free.
An rich iron odor filled his nostrils. He drained the jug in one go, hardly tasting the thick metallic-flavored liquid. The cramping eased but the itching beneath his skin and the red-hot sensation eating away at his insides returned, twice as bad. He groaned and doubled over, dropping the jug. Pottery smashed.
“Varian?” Lisella’s scent morphed to fear.
He bit back a cry as his other half surged from the darkness like a predator emerging from the shadows, strong, with lethal intent. “Get away from me!”
Her hand gripped his shoulder. Redness saturated his vision. Heat flamed inside him. With a growl, he turned. His hand seized the arm that touched him, the other closed around her throat.
And squeezed.
Lisella’s choked gasp fed the hunger inside him. The beast inside him savored the shocked expression on her face. Her fingers pried at his. The hoarse sound of every breath energized him. Her fear wound its way through him, nourished his satisfaction.
“Varian!” Her lips shaped his name but no sound came out.
“Varian, stop! You’re hurting her!” Someone yanked at his arm. “Jole!”
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