Silverlight

by Jesberger, S. L.

  I loved her so damned much. I couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . . lose her a second time.

  On the seventeenth night of my vigil, Amori brought supper up to me. “Let her go, Magnus.” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Hold her tight and help her into the long summer. You’ve done all you could.”

  “No. No. No!” I eyed the plate of food, tempted to push it away, but that would’ve been unkind. Amori had done so much for Kymber. For me. “I don’t . . . I can’t believe she was given back to me so I could lose her again.”

  Clucking her tongue, Amori closed the door behind her.

  Though I was bone-weary, I gripped Kymber’s shoulders and shook her. “It’s not ending this way, do you hear me? Wake up, Kymber Oryx. Open your damned eyes. It’s time to wake up!”

  Kymber’s right hand flew up and flailed against my chest, as though she were trying to fend me off. Her eyelids parted just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her gem-blue irises.

  Gods. Gods!

  She was alive.

  3: KYMBER ORYX

  I sensed the shadows that had been pursuing me were solid and sentient. Too tired to fight them any longer, I thrust my hand out and screamed. “Please! It can’t end like this!”

  As the darkness swallowed me, I closed my eyes and kept my hand outstretched, a dying plea lodged in my throat.

  Inexplicably, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. “Wake up, Kymber.” The voice was deep and male, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Can you hear me? Damn it, wake up. It’s time to wake up!”

  I struggled to open my eyes, mentally stumbling over the voice. Was it Magn . . . ?

  No, it couldn’t be. I was hallucinating again. Sick from drinking that damned, dirty water. I’d probably been flat on my back in the cave for days on end. I’d no doubt pissed myself . . . and worse. My skull felt as though it were going to explode.

  “Kymber?”

  “Go away.” I wasn’t sure if I said it aloud or only thought it. It was definitely his voice, but Magnus Tyrix didn’t usually haunt me during an illness. No, he occupied a much darker corner of my mind.

  “I’m not going away. Wake up, damn you.”

  “Go away, or I’ll kill you.” I tried to wriggle away from the hands gripping my shoulders and failed.

  “That’s right. Wake up.” A hand caught my jaw and held it, forcing me into a state of drowsy focus. I heard the distant sounds of men laughing, pots and pans rattling, feet shuffling.

  I was not in the cave then. I kept my eyes shut and tried to recall my last memory. Ah, the same thieves who’d taken my things weeks earlier had come back for the rest of it. Convinced I was hiding something of great value, they were more thorough in their search this time.

  Didn’t they care that it had taken me two years to gather and hide the goods they’d carelessly thrown onto that pile? No, this time they were going to steal everything I had and kill me for a witch.

  I had managed to fight for a bit, until exhaustion flattened me. The one they called Cort had pulled his sword then and hit me in the head. The bastard hit me!

  So odd though. I could’ve sworn I saw Magnus Tyrix as I was falling, falling into blackness. Cort must’ve put everything he had into that blow, for me to conjure Tyrix the Traitorous Jackass out of thin air.

  My eyelids felt heavy, as though stones were pressing down on them. My eyes opened as slits, and I caught a glimpse of thick, dark, hardwood beams overhead. The warm, sweet smell of beeswax candles and the faint tang of beer and roasting meat mingled in my nostrils.

  “That’s it, Kymber. Wake up, love.”

  Love? The man using Magnus’s voice had called me his “love”? I snapped my eyes open.

  Gods above and below, I wasn’t sick, and I wasn’t having a nightmare. I was looking into Magnus Tyrix’s face.

  He leaned over me with half a smile. Such broad, strong shoulders. The chiseled lines of his handsome face were made that much sharper by the candlelight. Three or four days of stubble covered his jaw and upper lip. His eyes were just as dark as I remembered, framed by thick black lashes.

  I couldn’t tell how long his hair was now, as it was pulled behind him. In another time, it had nearly been to his waist when loose, wavy and dark and much softer than it looked. I’d spent enough time running my hands through it, hadn’t I?

  That was before he betrayed me.

  His dark leather jerkin and the white shirt beneath it gave him an air of malevolence. He was close. Too close.

  Dizzy, weak as a kitten, I smashed him in the chin with my ruined right hand anyway. Not much of a punch, but I thought I’d send a message. I will not go back without a fight.

  He leapt up with a curse, holding the bottom of his face in both hands. “Damn it, Kymber. What did you do that for?”

  Don’t talk to him. Don’t answer. Tucking into a ball, I dropped off the edge of the bed, gold sparks flying behind my eyelids when my head hit the floor. I crawled into a corner and cradled my aching head in the crook of one arm, disgusted to hear myself whimpering.

  I knew now where I was. This was Magnus’s room at The Blue Lantern Inn. We’d made love too many times to count on the cot that stood between us. I’d never get away from him, as sick and wounded as I was.

  “The Blue Lantern.” Leaning to one side, I vomited into a spittoon, then wiped my mouth and glared at him. “I suppose you find this amusing.”

  “Amusing? In what way?” He moved his hands away from his face with a glare of his own. I’d split his lip. “You were hurt. It was the safest place I could think of.”

  “Safe.” I laughed then dry-heaved until my eyes bulged. “Yes, being with you is extremely safe, isn’t it? And these aren’t my clothes. What did you do?”

  He stiffened. “I cut that damned, filthy tunic right off your body with my dagger, then I washed you from head to foot while Amori stitched your wound.” I briefly glimpsed a self-satisfied smile. “And then we dressed you.”

  No hint of remorse and no apology. I didn’t have the strength to get angry. “You had no right. You have no right to touch me.”

  “Listen, I only touched you enough to wash and dress you. Amori was here the whole time.” Magnus’s jaw tightened. “Do you want me to get her so you can ask her?”

  Gods, my head hurt. “Ask her what?” I said wearily.

  “If I took liberties with you.”

  With some difficulty, I raised my fingers to the cloth bandages wound around my head. “Those men were going to kill me. How did I get here?”

  “I brought you.” Magnus made a quick maneuver around the end of the bed and sat on the edge, eyeing me as he rubbed his chin with one hand. I shivered. The scritch scritch of his fingers against stubble sounded like rats foraging in the dark.

  “Shove that confused look up your ass,” I said with as much fire as I could muster. “I won’t go back to him. I’ll find a way to kill myself first.”

  “Back to whom?”

  “Gah . . . Gah . . .” My tongue tried to form words my injured brain wasn’t willing to part with. “Drakoe Garai.”

  He started and blinked. “Is that where you were all this time? In Pentorus? With King Drakoe?”

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t know. Did he . . . did he . . .?” He paused to take a breath. “What happened, Kymber? It must’ve been at Marilian, as that’s the last time I saw you.” His nostrils flared a bit. “. . . until yesterday.”

  There was something about his tone that gave me pause. I held my aching head and mumbled, “Yes. At Marilian. Just as you’d planned.”

  “I have no patience for riddles tonight. You need to tell me what happened at Marilian.” He pressed his hands to his knees and stood. “Right now.”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone of voice. You don’t get to make demands, after what you did to me.”

  “What did I do to you?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “You tell
me what happened at Marilian.” I pressed tighter into the corner, but I had no illusions. Magnus had me right where he wanted me. The thought of going back to Pentorus almost sent me over the spittoon again. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t . . .

  “Damn it, Kymber, I was told you were dead and had been buried in a mass grave dug on the battlefield.”

  “Who told you that?” It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping into my lap.

  “Tariq. He said he tried to get to you, but he was injured. He said he crawled across the field to the open grave, but those who were burying the dead covered you over before he could make it all the way.” Magnus’s throat pulsed as he swallowed. “He told me Silverlight followed you into the grave.”

  Tariq. Of course. My body crawled with gooseflesh as I pondered it.

  I’d known Magnus Tyrix well at one time. I could see he believed what he was telling me, which was not the same thing as lying.

  Gods. Tariq had told me one thing. He’d told Magnus another. Had he deceived us both, thinking the other would never know?

  “Where is Tariq?” I asked carefully.

  Magnus shrugged. “Off on some new adventure, I suppose. I’ve had no contact with him for two or three summers.”

  “Are you lying to me about the grave? Because I will kill you if you are.” I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that, but it made me feel a little better to say it.

  He pulled his sword from the scabbard, dropped to his knees, and pressed the shining blade flat against his forehead. “I swear on Bloodreign that I am not lying to you. I speak the truth, as I understand it.”

  Curiously, the sight of Bloodreign convinced me. An oath was binding, a statement true, if made while presenting his sword. I relaxed into the corner, my head muzzy, and covered my face with my hands. “I think it would be easier for both of us if you were lying,” I finally said in a shaky voice.

  “I am not.” He remained kneeling, eyes lowered in a gesture of respect, Bloodreign gripped tightly in both hands. “You know I’m not.”

  No, he wasn’t lying. The only thing we could do was sort it out. I laid my hands in my lap and took a deep breath. “I think we’ve been played for fools.”

  “By whom?”

  “Finish your story first.” I wanted to hear it all, no matter how painful. “Your account of events is much different than mine.”

  Magnus rose and dropped his sword back into the scabbard. “I can verify Tariq was injured. His shoulder and left leg were sliced open. He told me he saw your body tossed into the grave. He said he crawled to it as the gravediggers threw barrow after barrow of dirt over the bodies. By the time he got to the edge of the grave, it had been covered over.” Magnus’s voice grew husky. “I couldn’t believe it was the end of you. I wept until I had no more tears to cry. If only I could have gone into that grave with you, Kymber.”

  I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids. His story wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! Believing it meant Magnus wasn’t a heartless bastard after all.

  I buried my head in the crook of my arm. Tariq was going to die by my hand, slowly. I would torture him the way I had been tortured. He had no reason to give a damn about me but to do this to his own brother was beyond comprehension.

  Angry storm at bay for the time being, I lifted my gaze to Magnus.

  “The look on your face tells me that is only part of the story.” Magnus went to his knees before me and reached for my hands.

  I pulled away, not ready for contact just yet. “It’s none of the story. It isn’t truly what happened.”

  “Then tell me. I deserve an explanation.”

  “Yes, you do, though I don’t think you’ll like it much.” I inhaled and began to speak. “You had taken most of the men to the other side of the battlefield. To the right flank, in order to hold off the Pentorians on that side. Tariq and I stayed where we were, as you’d requested. Remember? We’d turned their left flank back and you didn’t want to lose the momentum when you went to check on Commander Forish. As soon as you were out of sight, Tariq . . .” I struggled for air. That horror had never left me.

  “Tariq what?”

  “He suddenly spun and kicked Silverlight out of my hand.” I could only imagine the haunted look I had on my face. How many times had I relived that moment, trying to think of what I could’ve done to save myself. I had never feared Tariq. I’d been trained to fight between him and Magnus. “He certainly caught me unaware that day.”

  Magnus growled. I lifted my hands to silence him. I had to finish the story uninterrupted, or I would not be able to finish it at all.

  “I bent to retrieve my sword, but I saw him swing at me with his own out of the corner of my eye. I pulled back, but not fast enough. He cut me. Here.” I ran my fingers over the scar on the back of my hand. “I staggered and tried to stay on my feet, but I couldn’t. I went to my knees begging for an answer. Why? Why did he do it? But he didn’t say anything. I lunged for Silverlight again, but he kicked it out of my reach. Then he grabbed my injured hand, and sliced here – between my fingers.” I presented him with the longer, deadlier scar on my palm. “The blade went all the way into the middle of my hand. I can still hear him laughing. ‘You’ll never be able to hold a sword again,’ he said.”

  Magnus’s eyes grew round. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Tariq said you wanted me gone. That you had a wife and children hidden in Jalartha, and you didn’t love me anymore. He said you asked him to kill me. He was willing to do it for you, but he saw an opportunity to profit. Garai offered him a king’s ransom for me, or so he said. He’d ordered your brother to disable me first, so I couldn’t fight. So I could never fight again.” I lifted my useless right hand. “You see the result.”

  Magnus seemed dazed. “My own brother did that?”

  “I couldn’t believe it either. After he ruined my hand, he dragged me to the edge of the forest. The battle was over by then, the field covered with the dead and dying. There was a great deal of confusion and chaos. Apparently, no one saw him wound me, and you were too far away to hear me crying out for you.” I nervously picked at the hem of the tunic. “I used to pray someone would go to my father and tell him Tariq had been seen dragging me off, but I don’t know that it would’ve mattered. Beyond that bit of knowledge, my father wouldn’t have known where to look for me.”

  “Kymber, I’m sorry. I should’ve been there.”

  “How could you have known what Tariq had planned once you were out of sight? I bled all over myself, barely able to draw a proper breath because my hand hurt so damned bad. When we got into the shadow of the trees, your brother forced me to my knees. Garai soon came down the trail on a black stallion. They laughed at me, bleeding into the dirt, my sword hand destroyed. Tariq handed Silverlight to him then tied a rough rope around my neck. They both hoisted me into the saddle of the extra horse Garai brought with him, and I was led off to Pentorus and eight years of captivity.”

  “Gods. Kymber.” Magnus tried to take me into his arms.

  “Don’t.” I pushed him away. “I’m not finished yet. Garai had his healer care for my injury but the man was incompetent and my hand healed badly.” I shuddered. “I fought him at first. Garai. I was in the dungeon, then he transferred me to a cage in his aviary, just like one of his prized birds. Blindfolded, gagged, my good arm bound to the bars. Stripped of my clothing and my dignity. I knew what he was doing, but . . . well, I had a broken heart and I didn’t care.”

  “Sensory deprivation. The fastest way to break a prisoner,” Magnus murmured.

  “That’s right. When I didn’t break fast enough, he tossed in starvation. Then one day I thought, ‘Why are you suffering like this? You know what he wants. Give it to him and survive.’” The hem of the blue tunic I wore had become fascinating for some reason. I continued to work it over with the fingers of my left hand. “I just couldn’t figure out why I wanted to live.”

  “You don’t have to tell me the rest.
I can imagine.”

  “No, you can’t. Not if you lived a hundred lifetimes, you can’t imagine what I went through.”

  Magnus went silent, regarding me with those fathomless dark eyes.

  “I learned compliance. Obedience. Submitting didn’t hurt nearly as much as fighting him did.” I blew out a breath. “I must’ve been convincing. After a while, he gave me my own room, upstairs in the south wing not far from the aviary. It was locked, but at least I was fed and allowed to dress. It was all an illusion though, to make my life appear normal, until the sun went down. Then…”

  Tears welled up as I remembered the cruelty. “I survived by hating you, Magnus. I killed you over and over in my head. I thought you loved me.”

  His voice was soft, gentle. “I did love you, Kymber. I loved you more than my own life. I had no part in what Tariq did. I’ve never been married. You, of all people, should know that.”

  That was the problem. I believed him. So much time . . . lost.

  “I thought I knew you. I thought I knew everything about you, but I couldn’t imagine Tariq would lie about such a thing. In the end, it was just a ruse to separate us.”

  “Ten years. Ten long years,” Magnus whispered. His shoulders had bunched into tight knots.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it,” I whispered. “I can’t look at you without feeling . . .” What did I feel? Fear? Fury? Hate? Regret? All of those things at once?

  “Did you escape? Or did he finally let you go?” Magnus shook his head. “How did you come to be living in a cave so close to home?”

  “Pentorus was attacked by Munlo goblins a little over two years ago. They didn’t care for the way Garai treated their queen during a visit.”

  “Goblins?” His brow furrowed.

  “Goblins. They live in the Shadowlands. Seasoned fighters, they are. Tough little bastards.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I kept my mouth shut and my ears open. I took in as much information as I could. Dinners were excellent for reconnaissance, especially the one where the king of Pentorus insulted the queen of the Munlo goblins by asking her to share his bed.” I laughed. “You’d think Garai would’ve known better, but he was deliberately reckless. Spoiling for a fight.”