Silverlight

by Jesberger, S. L.

  “Yes. I’d like that.” She gave me a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Magnus.”

  29: KYMBER

  It turned out that sleeping in Magnus’s bed with him was a good idea after all.

  For three weeks, nightmares stole my sleep. I’d awaken drenched in a cold sweat with a scream lodged in my throat.

  They were always the same: Magnus became Garai, Garai became Magnus. It didn’t seem to matter that they were as different as two men could be. My brain was determined to fuse them into one.

  Magnus would hold me tightly when I woke up fussing. The soothing sound of his voice, his warmth, and the way his arms felt around me were my anchors to reality. The setting sun didn’t unnerve me nearly as much now, thanks to Magnus and his gentle touch.

  His gentle, dangerous touch.

  Ah, yes. And it all started with too much wine.

  We headed to the house for a late supper after a long day of training. My technique improved when the nightmares stopped, but I was still missing something. My eyes and brain didn’t seem to work in sync anymore. I couldn’t process what I saw fast enough to react to it. Magnus said it was residual fear. I thought it was more likely my age.

  He didn’t consider the other marks I carried. The ones that were physical. The scars laid down by Garai’s lash pulled across my back and legs every time I moved. They’d loosened some but not nearly enough.

  Still, I was pleased with my progress. Magnus’s frown said otherwise.

  I planted my hand on my hip. “At what point are you going to realize we’ve come to the end of the line? That I’m as good as I’m going to get?”

  His nostrils flared. “I’ll know it when I see it, and I haven’t seen it yet.”

  So be it. I was satisfied, and that was all that mattered. The training strengthened my body and mind. I resolved to continue for those two reasons alone. Still, I was incensed at his assertion that I wasn’t good enough. He would not be the sole judge of when – if – I reached my pinnacle.

  “Jackass,” I said, just to let him know I disagreed.

  This wasn’t a battle I wanted to fight right then. Mrs. Toolwin had made dumpling soup and wheat bread, and I was starving. I followed Magnus into the house to wash up.

  “I shall have Mrs. Toolwin make dumpling sou . . . sou . . . soup for you every night, my . . .” Magnus pounded a fist to his chest and belched as we climbed the stairs up to bed. “My . . . shweet.”

  “Every night? That’s too much. I would miss her roast beef.” I wrapped one arm around his waist to steady us both.

  “Every other night then.” He gave me a silly grin.

  “We can draw up a menu later. I’m too exhausted to think right now.” I opened the door to his room and guided him inside. I was glad to see that Tomas had lit several candles and turned the bed down for us.

  I wasn’t nearly as drunk as Magnus but I was unsteady on my feet. He was too big for me to be piloting around the room. I tried extra hard to concentrate on where I placed my feet, but we both stumbled over the fringed edge of the woven rug.

  Laughing, arms flailing, we careened toward the bed like twin arrows shot from a bow. I tried to hang onto him as we sailed, turning my body in mid-flight and catching him under the arms. My success was partial: he didn’t hit the floor, but the full length of that hard body landed right on top of me.

  My first instinct was to push him off. The second was to pull him in. The scent of wine, those dark eyes, the way my legs seemed to open when he pressed his hips against mine – it all culminated in that wonderful tickle of desire flaring to life.

  Yet, I’d dreaded this moment, hadn’t I?

  Thinking about my situation wasn’t working, so I kept still and tried to feel. To his credit, Magnus didn’t move a muscle. I think he was just as shocked as I was.

  “That’s just fear talking,” Magnus had said, and I was wholly tired of taking direction from my fear. Calm and rational, that’s what I needed to be. This was Magnus Tyrix, once the love of my life, now my savior. He’d fed me, clothed me, defended me, yelled at me, and pushed me to excel. He wouldn’t take me by force. He wouldn’t hurt me.

  I still had a choice. I could tell him no, and he would honor it.

  Or I could tell him yes and complete the connection between us.

  “Magnus.” I spoke his name as a prayer. “What if it happened tonight?”

  “What if what happened?” He stared into my eyes. “Ohhh. That.”

  “I want to. I don’t know if I can.”

  He sobered. “Your decision, Kymber. It has to be right for you.”

  “I don’t know.” I let go of a soft sigh. “I may never know.”

  “I’ll wait.” He threw me a brilliant smile. “I’ll wait an eternity, if that’s what it takes.”

  An eternity. Gods, could I go an eternity without making love to him? I put my hands on either side of his face. “It would be a good way to put the past behind us.”

  “It would.”

  “Then the answer is yes, Magnus.”

  “I don’t want to traumatize you further. I don’t think . . .”

  I put my hand over his mouth to silence him then removed it. “I’ll stop you if something doesn’t feel right. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” He captured my mouth with his. Soft and warm and safe, he kissed away the last of my resistance.

  I was mindful of the hiss and flurry of clothing being tossed about the room, and then we were naked.

  My mind played a balancing game with my body. One demanded I move forward, the other cringed and recoiled. Careful breathing and reciting basic truths in my head helped. The first time he takes you will be fast and intense, but not brutal. Not painful, because he would never hurt you. He loves you.

  He half-sobbed my name against my shoulder. “Kymber, my sweet Kymber. My life. How did I do it? How did I survive without you?”

  “Well, well. Apparently, wine helps you tap into your romantic side.” I kissed the side of his head. “And loosens your tongue. Not that I mind. A woman likes to hear that she’s missed and appreciated.”

  “Missed and appreciated doesn’t even begin to describe it. If you only knew how often I wept for you. How I ached to hold you. Marry me, Kymber. Tell me you’ll be my wife.”

  Gods. I hadn’t expected to hear that. “One thing at a time. We should sober up before we make promises we don’t intend to keep.”

  “Oh, I intend to keep my promises.” He shifted and pushed himself into me.

  I gasped and closed my eyes. The gentle merging of two bodies, done with love.

  I wept and remembered. Gods, I remembered.

  30: MAGNUS

  The years fell away that night as though we’d never been apart. I held Kymber in my arms, content to listen to her breathe, to feel her heart beat against my chest. I wanted to share everything I was feeling, but I had no words. Ah, it was just as well.

  She was mine again. I was hers. Despite what she’d been through, she trusted me enough to let me make love to her.

  “What are you thinking over there?” I asked. “No regrets, I hope.”

  “No regrets.” She snuggled against me. “I guess I’m stronger than I think. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to…” She heaved a sigh. “Only you, Tyrix. Only you.”

  “I will avenge you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fair enough.” I buried my nose in her hair and breathed her in. “Will you marry me?”

  She laughed quietly. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

  “You’ll tell me no tomorrow. I want an answer tonight.”

  She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “My answer tonight is ‘I love you and I’m not going anywhere.’ That will have to suffice.”

  I smiled. It did.

  31: KYMBER

  We trained as usual for the next four days, then Magnus disappeared overnight. He was unusually quiet when he returned.

  He didn’t tell me where he’d go
ne this time. It bothered me, but I’d wrongfully accused him of riding into Adamar to meet with Garai and Tariq. He truly had spoken with Jarl Aldi that night. I’d made a fool of myself. I didn’t want to repeat that mistake.

  Still, there was a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right with him. I blamed it on myself. My emotions still swung wildly from serenity to panic over the smallest things.

  The morning after he returned, Magnus got up while it was still dark, dressed, and left the room. We usually got up together, but I pretended to be asleep. He’d rolled and tossed all night, but he seemed particularly tense as he pulled his breeches on.

  I tried not to think about why. Was he regretting me now? What would I do if he asked me to leave?

  I took a deep breath and rolled over. The twin moons were big and bright, framed by the window on my side of the bed. If he asked me to leave, I would do it. I wouldn’t overstay my welcome if he’d changed his mind about me. Thanks to him, I was back on my feet.

  I eventually fell asleep, waking again when the sun was high in the sky. Seacrest’s ratty brown rooster crowed outside, reminding me of James. I smiled and rolled out of bed to greet the day.

  Magnus and I always trained mid-morning, before we ate breakfast. I could do anything on a full stomach, but it made him sick to move about so much after a meal.

  He didn’t make an appearance at the table, nor did he seem to be anywhere in the house. The stables, perhaps?

  I was just about to open the back door to look for him when I saw a strange man pacing near the fountain. I hesitated a moment, my hand on the latch, and watched him.

  He was tall and dark-haired, and he wore long flowing robes in rare colors: purple and red and gold – the rich colors of a rich man.

  One of Magnus’s friends then? I didn’t know, but I didn’t like the look of him.

  The man seemed equally nervous, meandering from one side of the walkway to the other. His lips moved, as though he were trying to memorize his lines for a play.

  He had a long, curved sword strapped to his left hip. Red and gold jewels studded the silver sheath, further proof of his wealth. Magnus sometimes sold his horses. Perhaps the man had come to look for a stallion he could race in Adamar, which meant Magnus might indeed be in the stable.

  I stepped out of the house and walked toward the fancy visitor. He froze when he saw me, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  And that’s when I saw her.

  A young girl just budding into womanhood, perhaps fourteen or fifteen at the most. She was as willowy as a sapling, with long, wavy, dark hair sparking auburn. She wore a plain brown tunic that was threadbare and torn. On her knees near the fountain, she had her head bent forward, her hands tied behind her back.

  I jerked to a halt, my feet stuck to the stones. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  The man gave me a hostile grin, baring several gold teeth. “You are Kymber Oryx?”

  Though his look was all wrong, the man spoke with a Pentorian accent. Should I fight or run? I wanted to disappear into the house behind me, but I didn’t want to leave the girl alone with him.

  The Kymber I’d been would’ve cowered. I lifted my chin instead. “I am. State your business.”

  His sword hissed out of its sheath; he pointed its gleaming tip at me. “I will fight you. For the girl.”

  “What?” I blinked once, twice. “That’s absurd!”

  “I hear you fight pretty good for a woman. If you win, the girl goes free. If I win . . .” I saw that ghastly leer again. “I will sell her to rich man. She’s young. Pretty. I will make big money with this one.”

  My body went up in gooseflesh. “Does Magnus know you’re here?”

  He shrugged. “Magnus is gone. I promise to place your body near the fountain, where he’s sure to find it. Fight now?”

  I moved my gaze from the man to the girl. She lifted pleading eyes to mine. “Please. I just want to go home to my family.”

  I just want to go home to my family. Gods. How often had I thought that very thing? Ten years ago, I was this girl.

  It began as a white-hot orb in my gut, spreading down my arms, into my hands, and across my shoulders. Fury. So primal, I felt oddly calm. I knew what would happen if this man sold this innocent child into slavery. I might die beside Magnus’s fountain today, but I was going to do my best to save her from that fate.

  I pulled Promise from her sheath without a second thought. “I’ll fight you. You’ll be sorry you ever came looking for me.”

  I went at him with everything I had, driving him back toward the large oak that grew beyond the fountain. I attacked him with practiced vehemence, the scars, injured hand, and older body forgotten. Years of training and instinct trumped all my weaknesses.

  The man was good, but I was better. Offense, Kymber. Make him defend. Hit him fast and hard until he tires, then kill him. It all came back to me in a glorious rush.

  I cut and slashed, my blade a blur. I feinted to one side and moved to the other, rendering him helpless to anticipate my moves. I kept my eyes hard and focused on his.

  He was soon wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he defended with his sword. I wasn’t giving him a chance to strike at me. Good, you kidnapping bastard. You didn’t expect a fight like this, did you? I’ll make sure you never take another young girl from her family.

  I could have swung at him all day, but he fell over a tree root protruding from the lawn. He broke his fall with both hands; his sword hit the ground and skidded away.

  Flat on his back, the slaver now saw fit to beg. “Please. I never meant to . . . This was not my plan! It was . . . was . . .” He shook with fear, a stark contrast to the man who’d challenged me.

  I stalked forward, Promise cocked over my shoulder. “You don’t need to explain. You were going to consign this poor girl to a life of slavery. Make your peace with whatever gods you follow. There’ll be one less predator in the world after today.”

  I tensed and prepared to slash his throat open, but strong hands caught me in midair when I leapt at him. My feet came off the ground as I flew backward.

  The captive girl screamed. “No! No! Please don’t kill my father!”

  All the air went out of me then. As my feet found solid earth, I sagged and turned, only partially registering Magnus behind me. He’d pulled me back before I could kill the slaver.

  “Your father? This scum is your father?” Trembling and out of breath, I glanced from the girl to Magnus. “Why did you stop me?”

  “He’s not scum!” she shouted.

  “I’m sorry, mistress,” the slaver said. “I owed Magnus a favor. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

  The man’s Pentorian accent was gone. I inhaled as much air as I could and glared at Magnus. “What have you done?”

  I saw it there, on his face, in his eyes. Magnus had arranged this, but it had gone too far. He’d gone too far. Someone was going to die today, and it wouldn’t necessarily be the man I’d thought was a slaver.

  “This is my friend, Tal Banrak and his daughter Marissa. He owns the inn on the outskirts of Adamar,” Magnus said.

  I fully turned to face him. “Why did you do this?”

  “I knew you could tap into your former abilities if I pushed you hard enough. All I had to do was find a way to anger you.” Magnus’s tone had gone from strident to conciliatory faster than I could blink.

  I slowly shook my head. Unbelievable. “Did this little drama amuse you?”

  “My goal was not amusement, Kymber.”

  “Good, because if it was, you failed spectacularly. I understand how pushing me, angering me sometimes brought out my best, but this was uncalled for.”

  “I was simply trying to motivate–”

  “You thought to motivate me by forcing me to rescue a young girl from a slaver? Have you gone insane?”

  A gleam shone in his eyes. “It worked, didn’t it? That was the old Kymber Oryx I saw just now, not . . .”

  I punched him a
s hard as I could in the jaw. He staggered. “Damn it, Kymber. That hurt!”

  “Is there something wrong with the current Kymber Oryx?” I lifted my sword and stalked him. He scrambled to put distance between us.

  Tal Banrak gathered up his daughter and headed for the corner of the house and safety. He looked back just once. “I’ll see you in Adamar, Magnus. Best of luck to you!”

  Magnus growled at me. “I don’t understand what your problem is. I did this for your own good.”

  “My problem? My problem is that you seem to want to live in the past. You are so full of shit, I can smell you from here. You did this for your own good. Because you can’t stand . . .” I struggled, the word bitter on my tongue. “You can’t stand to fail. You weren’t going to be happy until you turned me into the Kymber that lived in your memories. She’s gone.”

  “You give up too easily.”

  “You miserable bastard, I’ll castrate you.” I tried to inhale and exhale at the same time and made myself dizzy. “Since you don’t seem to understand nuance, let me put it plainly for you.” I moved forward one step, then two. “I was used and beaten every single day, sometimes several times a day, and not always by Garai. I’ve been left to hang by my shackled wrists for days on end, my toes barely brushing the floor. Sometimes, if the pain was especially bad, I saw things that weren’t there. Dragons, elves, pixies.” I moved another step forward. “Do you know how much of my blood is soaked into the stone floor of that castle? I’d own the fucking place if blood were coin. I put myself to sleep once by counting the drops as they hit.”

  “Gods, Kymber.” Magnus’s face had gone stiff with horror.

  “Do you know what it’s like to sleep naked in your own piss and shit in a cage? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be surrounded by the scent of rotting meat and know it’s your own hand you smell?” I inhaled a lot of air. “Shall I go on?”

  “Please, I didn’t–”