Silverlight

by Jesberger, S. L.

  He swung around behind me, shifting Bloodreign from hand to hand, cutting off access to the stairs in the cliff.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked as he advanced on me. “I’m not your next meal.”

  “You might be. You’re easy prey.”

  “What?”

  “What?” he mocked in a falsetto. “I won’t let you leave. You’ll work harder at this, or I’ll kill you and drag your body out to sea.” He took a few more steps toward me.

  I nearly asked if he was serious, but it would’ve been a pointless question. I saw no teasing mirth in his eyes this time.

  He swung Bloodreign. I jumped back, arching my spine to avoid his blade. Even so, he missed my hip by less than an inch. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Killing you,” came the chilling reply. “Hold still. I’ll make it quick.”

  I jerked my head to one side as Bloodreign whistled past my nose. White-hot fury bloomed inside me. I hadn’t survived Garai just to have this idiot cut me down. I leapt back, light on my feet, and moved my hand toward my hip.

  My sword was not there, of course. I ducked, stumbling as Magnus swung at me again.

  “Aw, the poor thing can’t defend herself. Now what will you do? You’ll never make it to the stairs.”

  I couldn’t believe he was talking to me like that. Unconditional, he’d said. He’d told me he still loved me. Now he was going to kill me?

  Whirling, I ducked to avoid his blade once more. I tried to stay at the outer limits of his deadly arc, but he kept coming at me with a demonic light in his eyes.

  I cast a glance at my surroundings just as he took a swing at my legs. The sting was immediate. Not only did he slice my favorite pants open, he managed to run Bloodreign’s tip across my kneecaps.

  He was right. I’d never make it up the stairs to the house. If he was serious about killing me, I had to fight, and I had to use the only weapon available to me.

  The sword across my back.

  If I moved and missed, he wouldn’t give me a second chance. I channeled all my thoughts into my maimed hand and struck like a snake, reaching, reaching…

  I have always been amazed at how certain firsts happen in lightning strikes of cognizance, unfolding in slow motion to help retain every second of the experience. The first time I saw Magnus. Our first kiss. The first time he made love to me.

  I knew reaching for Promise was going to be one of those moments.

  My hand opened…far enough? I didn’t know, couldn’t tell, but I carried the motion through to fruition, relieved when my fingers wrapped securely around the custom-made grip. Not too far back, not too far forward. Perfect. I tightened my hold.

  The rest was instinctual. I pulled; Promise slid free of the scabbard. My good hand steadied it in front of me. I took a vicious swipe at Magnus just as he swung at me.

  Our swords met in mid-air with the sharp clang of a tolling bell. The vibration nearly tore my arm off, but I stopped Magnus cold and held him.

  My arms ached with the strain, but I wasn’t going to be the first to cry quits. “You were saying?”

  He gave me a heart-stopping smile. “Well, I didn’t say it, but I damn well thought it. There’s my warrior.”

  I gritted my teeth and shoved him backward. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “The only way to motivate you is to infuriate you. Well, sometimes,” Magnus amended sheepishly. “You reacted to my threats just as I knew you would. By rising to the occasion. By succeeding.” He pulled his sword away from mine, lowered it, and dropped to his knees before me, head bowed. “I’m sorry for cutting you. You may do the same to me anywhere on my body in retaliation.” He glanced up with a mischievous grin. “But not my fingers, hands, or between my legs.”

  For one hazy, red moment, I considered lopping his head from his shoulders. Then I gave it some thought.

  A trick. A ruse, and it had worked. Was I angry? Or was I thrilled?

  Both. I felt both in equal measure.

  I stared at the top of his head and released the breath I’d been holding. “I won’t cut you.”

  “I appreciate that.” He rose to his feet, smirking.

  I kicked him as hard as I could dead center of his chest. He flew, arms flailing, and landed flat on his back in the sand.

  Breathless, I walked over and pressed my foot into his sternum. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t kick you.”

  I was still fully at odds with myself. The sexy dimple in his chin was the perfect place for the point of my sword. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, you deceitful horse’s ass, but I just fell in love with you all over again.”

  22: MAGNUS

  I lay on my back in the sand, unable to breathe from the vicious kick Kymber had delivered to my chest.

  Had she really said those last few words?

  I just fell in love with you all over again.

  She was on her way to the stone stairs. I could tell by her gait, her speed, that she was still furious. Gods, she had the most beautiful behind.

  My chin was bleeding. I wiped it away, grinning like a damned fool.

  Threatening her life had been a low-down dirty trick, but I had to take that chance. I didn’t know what I would do if it didn’t work. Cutting her had hurt almost as much as if I’d cut myself, but she sometimes had to be driven. Forced. The lesson had to be painful. If Kymber possessed a flaw, that was it.

  The only way to know was to try. The situation had to be as dire as possible. And she’d done it.

  She’d pulled her sword.

  I rested in the sand, stared at the sky, and gave silent thanks. We could move forward now.

  23: KYMBER

  I was in one of those moods that drives men crazy. Snarling, but excited. Ready to pick a fight when what I really wanted was someone to hold me.

  My mood swung back and forth like a pendulum as I climbed the sandy stairs up to the house. That brainless, muscle-bound peawit had cut me. He’d cut me!

  Cut me, threatened me with death, chased me all over the beach with Bloodreign, and the bastard had coaxed my best from me.

  What was wrong with him?

  What was wrong with me?

  I slammed the door to my room and locked it. I wanted to be alone, without Magnus breathing down my neck about training and nutrition and the proper way to draw a damned sword.

  Alone, I was finally able to let go.

  I didn’t belong here. I didn’t know him anymore, and he certainly didn’t know me. There was no respect for what I’d been through, even though he knew few of the details.

  Was he right? Did I willingly wear the martyr’s crown? I drew in a shaky breath. How could I not? Those years with Garai had . . .

  Had what? Yes, they’d happened to me, but those bleak years weren’t the sum total of what I was.

  What I could become if I’d get out of my own damned way and allow it.

  No. No! I made a move toward the bureau that held my clothes, fully intending to pack and leave.

  I placed my fingers on the crystal knobs of the top drawer and sighed. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let anger prod me into stupidity. I truly didn’t mind picking up a sword again. The physical activity on the beach had been good for me. I’d been making some progress.

  And then he’d threatened to kill me. “Miserable, fucking, spineless, lying bastard!” I pressed my forehead to the top of the bureau and closed my eyes.

  I had no way of knowing Magnus was trying to motivate me. When Garai said he was going to kill me, he meant it, especially if he was deep in his cups.

  Admit it, Kymber. Magnus frightened you. My reaction to his threat frightened me more. I hated him for doing it. I understood why it was necessary.

  I gripped my hair in both hands and released an anguished sob. Gods, I was losing my mind.

  I felt the panicked beast again, heard it crying out from some deep, dark place inside me. The coward. The one that feared everything. The one that wanted to ru
n and hide.

  Kymber the warrior turned my attention by kicking me in the ribs and baring her teeth. If you waste this opportunity, I’ll kill you myself!

  I smiled when I heard the knock on my door. I didn’t think he’d be able to stay away from me.

  24: MAGNUS

  I knew I was taking my life in my hands when I knocked on Kymber’s door, but we’d made a breakthrough on the beach. I thought we should talk about it.

  She flung the door open and stared at me, her hair a mess, her bare feet covered in sand, knees bleeding from my carefully controlled assault on her fear. Greta, my housekeeper, was not going to be happy about the sand on her floors.

  “You.” Kymber’s eyes narrowed.

  “May I come in?”

  She hissed; her nostrils flared. “I’ll let you in, but let’s get one thing straight. If you ever threaten me like that again, I’ll cut your damned cock off and feed it to the dogs.”

  I raised a hand to calm her. “I understand, but it worked. The end justifies the–”

  “No, it doesn’t. Not with me. Not anymore. It was a lousy thing to do, Tyrix. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “And I’m sorry for that.” I took a tentative step inside her room. “But you can’t argue with success. You’d still be struggling to open your hand if I hadn’t put you in fear of your life. It’s a common training tactic. You know that.”

  She searched my face then looked away. “I was afraid of you and I didn’t like the way it felt. You were the one person I trusted.”

  I took her hand in mine. “It was wrong of me to frighten you like that, but I knew you could pull that sword with a little motivation. Forgive me?”

  She stared at me for the longest time, chest heaving. “Forgiven, but I won’t forgive you twice. Understood?”

  “I do.”

  In a complete reversal of mood, she placed her hands flat on my chest and grinned. “If I pulled the sword once, I should be able to do it again, right? If I concentrate before I reach for it. This is all new and unfamiliar, but it’s just muscle memory and repetition.”

  “That’s right. Everything is difficult the first few times. You’ll get it if you don’t give up.”

  Her fierce blue eyes flamed to life. “Not giving up is the key to everything, I think.”

  “Now you understand.” I ran my fingers lightly over her shoulders. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, love. Count on it.”

  She took my face in her hands and kissed me. So thoroughly and with so much passion, I swore I’d gotten a glimpse into the future.

  25: KYMBER

  Once I memorized the motions, I realized strapping the sword across my back had helped. I practiced pulling it until I could do it in my sleep. We took several days off to celebrate then got back to work.

  Magnus and I circled each other warily on the beach one warm, sunny morning, swords at the ready. “I keep thinking about that kiss,” he said. “All wet lips and open mouth.”

  So did I. Why had I even kissed him in the first place? I wanted to kick myself. “It doesn’t take much to get under your skin, does it, Tyrix?”

  His eyes smiled for him. “Not where you’re concerned.” He’d dropped his guard a bit. His arms were slack and relaxed.

  “Hold tight to those memories,” I told him. “You’re not likely to get any more. At least not from me.”

  “You’ve never been a very good liar, Kymber. You liked it as much as I did.” He tensed, lifted his blade, and struck at me.

  I should have known it was coming, as it was a common tactic. Talk to your enemy as though they were a friend. Throw them off by engaging in conversation, then hit them hard.

  I stumbled, letting go of my sword with my left hand, holding on to the grip for dear life with my right. I was able to maintain a weak defense, but he struck again and again, mercilessly slamming his blade into mine. The echo of steel on steel bounced off the cliff face and into my ears. All I could do was stiffen my right arm, defend with Promise, and try not to fall.

  Magnus stopped to give me a look of pure aggravation. “You must concentrate. If this had been a real fight, you’d be dead right now.”

  “I know.” I lowered my sword. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want to hear you say you’re sorry. Sorry won’t raise you from the dead.”

  “I’ll do better next time, you sanctimonious ass. Is that satisfactory?”

  He sheathed his sword and fixed me with a speculative look. “Perhaps some time at T’hath would help?”

  He was doing it again. Talking, trying to get me to drop my guard. I assumed a defensive stance with my sword. “No. I can’t go back to the academy. Don’t try to force me either.” I waggled Promise’s silver tip beneath his nose. “And I’m not falling for this again.”

  He lifted his hand in a gesture of conciliation. “Put it away, Kymber. I think it’s time for a talk. I have a question for you.”

  I sheathed my sword. “What is it?”

  “Why didn’t you go straight back to T’hath when you escaped from Garai? Your mother and father surely would’ve been delighted to see you. Why did you allow yourself to starve on the outskirts of Jalartha instead of going home?”

  Was it possible he didn’t know things had changed at the academy? I asked him, “Do you ever hear news from T’hath or see any of our old friends?”

  “No. I stayed away from T’hath after you disappeared. Then I left Jalartha altogether.”

  “Tell me again – when was the last time you talked to Tariq?”

  “Two, three years ago.” Magnus furrowed his brow. “Two, I guess.”

  That made sense. It was the last time I’d seen him too. I dropped down into the warm sand and patted the space beside me. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you why I hid in the caves.”

  He sat next to me, left leg sprawled outward, his arm draped across his knee. “I’m listening.”

  I stared out at the waves crashing upon the shore. “It probably seems odd to hear, but freedom was just as frightening to me as captivity. I was nearly mindless with panic and confusion that first day outside of Pentorus. My clothes were singed; I smelled of smoke. Hunger gnawed at me like a dog with a bone. I was sure everyone knew who I was and what I’d done, so I ducked into the deepest forest I could find, then huddled among some boulders there. It seemed like a safe place to hide.”

  “Good thinking.” Magnus nodded his approval.

  “The next day I stole a chicken roasting over an outside fire and some clothes drying on a washerwoman’s line.” I gave him a crooked smile. “I took a man’s hooded tunic and breeches, thinking they would help hide my identity. The chicken was a welcome incidental. I had a vague idea where I was. I used the sun as a compass and headed south toward Jalartha.” I laced my fingers together in front of me. “The plan was to go home to T’hath, but I was suspicious of everyone and everything. My instincts served me well. I’d have been in trouble if I’d marched through the academy gates and knocked on the door.”

  “How so?”

  “I just had a queer feeling about it. A lot can change in eight years. Our family cemetery lies at the edge of the academy property, so I went there first, to think. The gravestones were tall and provided cover. And that’s when I found them.”

  “Found what?”

  “The gravestones of my mother and father. Donea died first, four years into my captivity. Tanit died the next year. I wept until I fell asleep.”

  “Daxal. Portis. Juncor. Any one of your brothers would’ve been glad to see you,” said Magnus. “They would’ve taken you in and fed you.”

  I nodded. “I thought so too. I woke up the next morning and headed toward the academy gate when I saw him with Portis.”

  “Who?”

  “Tariq. Don’t you remember? He and Portis were the best of friends during training. I hid behind a tree outside the cemetery and watched them both walk out of the house. Tariq turned with a smile and shook Portis’s hand.” I shr
ugged. “Looked pretty friendly to me.”

  “You think Portis was in on your capture?” Magnus looked stunned. “He always watched out for you.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not, but who’s to say? I have no doubt Tariq was there looking for me though. If he told my family the same story he told you about seeing my body thrown into a mass grave, he couldn’t have asked Portis if he’d seen me. But if my brother knew what Tariq had done to me–”

  “The handshake might’ve been an agreement to hold you until Tariq got there.”

  “Exactly. I couldn’t take that chance. I went to the caves under cover of darkness that very night and stayed there.”

  “That explains why Tariq came to Adamar then.” Magnus tossed a handful of sand toward the ocean. “He wanted to know if you were at Seacrest. I’ve never seen him so jumpy and nervous. He wouldn’t sit down for a meal or a glass of wine, wouldn’t agree to spend the night. He was no doubt under orders to find you.”

  A chill settled over me. “I suppose he was.”

  “Would you like to go home? Back to T’hath, I mean?”

  I shivered so hard my spine nearly snapped. “No. No. What if my brothers and Tariq are in league with Garai? They’ll know you and I have found each other and where we are, and then Garai will know and . . . I can’t. None of them needs to know where I am. I don’t want them to know.”

  “I do,” Magnus said with some belligerence. “I want them to know. I want them to come after you so I can kill them. And think of this: what if your brothers haven’t thrown their lot in with Tariq and Garai? What if they were just as torn up about losing you as I was? Don’t they deserve to know you’re alive?”

  Good question. I’d loved my brothers. I didn’t believe all three of them had allied with Tariq. Just Portis, but I didn’t know for sure, and I had no way of finding out. That handshake had looked suspicious.

  “Let me take you home, Kymber. Your brothers don’t frighten me, nor does mine. If our enemies find out we’re together, so be it. Let them come. We’ll be ready.”