“Jala,” Valor called softly as he stepped into the tent and knelt before her. “Jala, please, what's wrong. Are you hurt?” His voice was near panic.
Looking up, Jala could see the confusion written clearly on his face. He didn’t have a clue what to do in this situation. Wiping her eyes, Jala swallowed heavily and let out a choked breath. “He isn’t dead, Valor,” she whispered her voice hoarse.
“Jexon? He is, Jala. I promise you that,” Valor said sounding even more confused.
“Finn. He isn’t dead,” Jala corrected, her head dropping once more to her knees.
“Then why isn’t he here?” Valor demanded, his voice sounding nearly as hoarse as her own.
“I’ll see him again soon, I’m sure,” Jala muttered darkly, her chest tightening at the thought. After the way Finn had acted she wasn’t sure if she could face him again. He had been so casual, so calm. It was like a knife in her chest. She heard Valor stand, but didn’t bother to look up. Another sob tore through her as more tears flowed down her cheeks. “It was the enchantment for him, Val. He never loved me,” she whispered, the words almost sticking in her throat.
He’s gone, Jala. He left the tent, Marrow informed her quietly as he lay down beside her and wrapped his body around her legs. Give him time. I’m here for you until Valor comes to his senses. He doesn’t understand at all. Give him time and then explain.
The sound of the tent flap opening drew Jala’s attention briefly from the scout reports. She watched for half a breath as Jail stepped into the tent. With a nod and a faint smile, Jala turned her attention back to the paperwork before her. The reports she had so far were good. Over the past few weeks the war on the western coast had taken a dramatic turn as Oblivion joined the fight. From what she was reading, Avanti’s army that had been staged in Han’shy was all but destroyed. The Han’shy had risen the moment Oblivion attacked Morcath and victory was nearly complete for her allies. All they had to worry about now were the Blights.
“Did you hear about the amulets?” Jail asked as he sat down across the table from her and folded his arms against his broad chest.
Jala nodded without looking up. “I’ve heard that it was decided that my soldiers must be given a choice on returning from death. I understand those that wish to be raised are wearing white amulets and those that don’t have black ones,” Jala said as she flipped another page in her stack of papers.
“It was necessary, I’m afraid. There were several that were having difficulties returning. Their minds were starting to fray,” Jail said his tone conversational.
“Understandable,” Jala agreed with a faint nod, her eyes scanning a map detailing the Avanti troop movements. There didn’t seem to be much left standing between her and the Capital city. If she pressed hard over the next few days she could be standing at the High Lords’ gates.
“Did you know Valor is wearing a black amulet?” Jail asked, his tone gentle.
“What?” Jala demanded, the papers dropping from her hands instantly. She looked up sharply, her eyes locked on Jail who simply nodded in reply. “Watch Legacy,” Jala ordered as she rose from her seat. She had barely seen Valor since the night she had spoken of Finn, aside from his passing during their marches. For the most part he had taken to riding with his knights and she had noticed that Bridgette had started joining him in his tent nightly as well. Emily and Marrow started to rise to follow her as she strode from the tent but Jala shook her head sharply. “Stay here with Legacy,” she snapped as she stepped out into the chill night air.
Light still showed from Valor’s tent as Jala approached and she could see Bridgette’s horse tied outside. With a heavy sigh she shielded her eyes with a hand and stared straight down at the ground as she stepped through the tent flap. “I’m sorry, I know you two don’t get much time alone but I need to speak with Valor now,” Jala said quickly trying to keep the blood from rising to her cheeks as she continued to stare at her toes. She hated the thought of interrupting them, but this was something that simply couldn’t wait until morning.
“Jala, what exactly are you doing?” Valor asked calmly from the far side of the tent.
“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I need to speak with you. I’m sorry for barging in,” Jala continued.
“I meant, why exactly are you shielding your eyes,” Valor clarified, and Jala slowly lowered her hand to look up at him.
Jala had expected to find them in bed. She had expected them to be upset with her intrusion. What she hadn’t expected at all was to find them sitting calmly at a card table watching her with expressions that suggested they thought their High Lady had gone mad. Blinking stupidly, Jala watched as Bridgette tossed her cards down on the table and rose.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Valor,” Bridgette said as she turned to leave. “Goodnight, Milady,” Bridgette added politely as moved passed her to leave the tent.
“Goodnight,” Jala muttered with a faint nod. She wasn’t sure what to say in light of her entrance. It was difficult to begin a serious conversation after making yourself look like a fool.
Valor continued to watch Jala as he raised a glass slowly to his lips and took a drink, obviously waiting for an explanation. “Have you grown shy about gambling?” Valor asked when the silence stretched between them.
“I didn’t realize it was cards that kept you both entertained each night,” Jala mumbled as she inwardly cursed Jail. She knew the Mind mage had known the truth of the situation and she was sure beyond a shadow of doubt he also knew what she had assumed. He had set her up for this and she had stumbled headlong into it.
Valor nodded slowly and waved a hand toward Bridgette’s vacant chair. Her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, Jala crossed the tent and sat quietly. “So what is it that you need to speak with me about so badly?” Valor asked as he raised his glass to his lips once more.
Jala closed her eyes and settled more comfortably into the chair. Jail apparently wanted her to settle things with Valor, and she had to admit it was past time that she did so. She had meant to bring the topic up sooner, but it wasn’t something that was easy to speak about.
“The night I came back from the dead, actually,” Jala said and motioned toward his glass. “Have you got another of those?” she asked.
“It’s been two weeks and suddenly you are frantic to speak of it?” Valor said as he poured a second glass and slid it across the table to her.
“Yes, and no,” Jala began hesitantly. Pausing, she took a small sip from the brandy and glanced up at him. “Are you really wearing a black amulet, Valor?” she asked quietly.
Valor shifted in his chair and nodded, his expression never changing.
“Why?” Jala asked, her gaze forcing him to meet her eyes.
“Can I lie and say it’s because I don’t want to end up like the poor bastard that won’t stop crying that prompted us to start the process of amulets?” Valor asked dryly.
“No,” Jala replied simply.
Valor frowned and pushed his glass back and forth between his hands. “Then I suppose I will be truthful and admit it’s because I don’t want to be here when Finn returns. I know that makes me sound like a bastard, but if he wasn’t dead then he should have been here for you. I have watched you live in misery without him and I was utterly helpless to do anything to help you. I can’t face him, and I…” His voice trailed off as he lifted the glass and took another healthy swallow. “And I don’t want to see the two of you together,” he admitted quietly as he sat the glass down once more.
“You will see him before me with that amulet on, Valor,” Jala said softly. She waited until he looked up at her and smiled sadly. “I tried to tell you that night, but you left before I could finish. I saw him in the Darklands, Valor. He has taken the place of the Dark Lady,” she explained and watched as the realization of what she had said that night registered in his mind.
“Did you plan to take your own life to return to him?” Valor asked his expression horrified at the thought.
&n
bsp; Jala shook her head quickly and sighed. “I was feeling so much…” She paused and shook her head again in frustration as she searched for the correct word. “I was feeling so much of everything that night, Valor. Pain, grief, sadness, anger, and my words were morbid. I was being melodramatic I suppose, but no, suicide never crossed my mind,” She stared down into the amber depths of her brandy for a long moment before speaking again. “It was all the enchantment for Finn. I asked him directly when I stood before him and he answered me with blunt honesty. He never loved me at all, Val,” she said. The pain was still there, but it was less than it had been.
“Then he was a bigger fool than I thought,” Valor replied quietly.
Standing, Jala moved around the table and stopped just in front of him. Silently she raised her hands to his neck and pulled the cord of the necklace from under his shirt. She glanced up to find him watching her as she carefully unfastened the clasp and lifted the amulet free of his neck. Her thumb traced along the edge of the black coin as she stared down at the skull imprinted deeply in the metal. She watched him as she sat the amulet down softly onto the table. “Please, Valor. I need you to help me finish this. The thought of you not being there beside me when we finally ride home…” Her voice trailed off as her throat tightened.
Leaning forward, Valor took her hands gently in his and smiled up at her. “I’m sorry, Jala. I didn’t understand. I will always stand beside you, as long as you want me there.”
“Promise me you won’t put that back on,” Jala whispered, her eyes flicking to the amulet.
“You have my word. Should I die on the field, bring me back as quickly as you can. I have no desire to ever see Fiona Veirasha again,” Valor smiled as he spoke the words and slowly released her hands. “It’s almost over, Jala. Another few weeks at the most and you will have your dream. We can return to Merro and put all this behind us.”
“Almost,” Jala agreed quietly, though she knew Merro was still more than a few weeks off. They would deal with the Avanti soon, that was true. The Blights were another matter though. Sanctuary wouldn’t be safe until all of the threats were dealt with. Now was not the time to mention that, though. It could wait.
“You are a son of a bitch, Jail,” Jala announced as she re-entered her tent. Jail looked up from her chair and dropped the reports back down onto the table, frowning at her.
“I really didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” Jail said with a disappointed look on his face.
“What the bloody hell did you think I would be doing, Jail? I’m newly widowed for the second time,” Jala snapped putting emphasis on the word second.
“That hardly counts. You despised Jexon and everyone in the camp knew that,” Jail countered dryly, rolling his eyes at her.
“And Valor is my friend and nothing more,” Jala returned and motioned him out of her seat.
“When we found you in the tunnels. Valor was half dead and holding you against him as if his own life depended on your survival. He had you cradled in his arms, holding his cloak to your wounds to keep you from bleeding out because he didn’t have enough strength left to get both of you out of there. Rather than use what he had left to escape, he would have bled out beside you,” Jail said as he rose, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Because he is my friend,” Jala said firmly as she dropped into her chair.
“Because he loves you, Jala,” Jail corrected firmly. “And you love him, too, or you wouldn’t have been in the tunnels to begin with. Neph told me about your banshee wail and the mad ride through the fighting to reach where Valor had fallen.”
“Jail, I don’t need this right now,” Jala snapped as she snatched a handful of the papers from her table.
“Do you know what it means when an Arovan man cuts his hair?” Jail asked, dropping down in the chair across from her and leaning forward on the table.
Jala looked up at him with a glare and cocked her head to the side. “That he wanted a haircut?” she asked dryly.
“It means he is spoken for and the women of Arovan know by sight that they would be wasting their time in pursuit of him. The earring Valor wears is called a Widows ring. It signifies his devotion to your son in his culture. Were it his true born child the ring would be silver rather than black,” Jail explained watching her closely as she slowly sat the papers back down on her table.
“He cut his hair when Legacy was born,” Jala said softly as she folded her hands before her on the table and stared hard at Jail.
Jail nodded in agreement. “And he has shown no interest in another woman since the day you arrived back from the Darklands,” he added softly.
“Why in the bloody hell are you just now telling me what the earring and shorter hair mean, Jail?” Jala demanded, her voice rising. “Why in the bloody hell did you wait so long to mention those two very important things to me?”
“When should I have told you, Jala? While you were grieving for Finn or during your wedding to Jexon? There wasn’t much time in between the two events,” Jail shot back, his tone filled with irritation. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Jala. It was Valor’s, but he was waiting for you to heal from Finn, and then he was waiting for Jexon to die, and frankly I’m sick of watching the poor bastard wait.”
Jala leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face. Legacy let out a soft cry from the bed and she stood from her chair, slowly shaking her head at Jail. “Not now, Jail. I can’t focus on this now. I have too much before me already,” Jala said, sweeping her hands toward the reports for emphasis before crossing the room to her son.
“Love is not something that exists in measurements, Jala. You aren’t born with a set amount to divide among those you care for,” Jail said as he rose from his chair. “It comes in different forms, too. What you had with Finn was passionate, but fragile. I watched you sit by the window waiting for Finn to come back so many times. You had love between you, but not trust,” Jail said quietly. “Admitting you love Valor is not betraying what you felt for Finn, and Valor will never leave you sitting by a window waiting. What you have with Valor is deeper and you know that, Jala. You just won’t admit it,” Jail finished and turned to leave. He paused at the tent flap and glanced back at her. “If you only focus on the dark side of life, eventually you will be nothing but dark yourself.”
Jala listened as the tent flap swung shut behind him and continued to rock Legacy against her shoulder. Her son was so big now it was getting difficult to cradle him in her arms. With a heavy sigh, she kissed him on the top of his head and tried to keep her thoughts from straying to Valor. Turning, she paced back toward her desk, rocking Legacy lightly as she walked. The sound of the tent flap opening once more brought her gaze upward and she froze as her eyes fell on Valor.
Valor smiled at her and nodded once. Jala returned the nod and raised an eyebrow at his armor. When she had seen him in his tent he had been wearing a simple tunic and breeches. Jala motioned him toward a chair and watched as he moved silently to accept.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Valor said quietly, his gaze on her son as she continued to pace.
Jala smiled faintly and nodded her head once toward the small cabinet behind him that held the few liquor bottles she owned. She watched him rise from the chair and select a bottle and glass. Her eyes locked on the bottle for a long moment before she slowly crossed the room and carefully placed Legacy on the floor beside Marrow. Standing straight once more she placed herself between her son and the man at the table and cleared her throat. He turned to look at her and frowned at the expression on her face. “Valor hates Firewater,” she informed the imposter in a cool voice.
The man smiled faintly and his form shifted, the armor fading into clothing as his body grew leaner. In moments a tawny haired man in a black trench coat sat where Valor had a breath before. He watched her with dark green eyes just visible over the black half mask he wore. “I wanted to see how you treated the Arovan. There were rumors of course. I just wanted the truth of it,” Sovaesh said calmly with a
n apologetic shrug.
“With respect and kindness,” Jala informed him, her eyes still narrowed. She had only seen the man once before, but she knew his reputation well. Finn had spoken of his father often, and of course there were the rumors in Sanctuary about the Avanti’s pet Assassin as well.
“So I see,” Sovaesh agreed with a slight nod. “May I see him? You don’t have to allow me to hold him, but would you bring him closer,” he asked hesitantly as he motioned toward Legacy.
“If you will tell me why you are here,” Jala said calmly as she reached down to pick her son up once more.
“As far as my master knows, I am here to kill you. That is, after all, what he sent me from the city to do. I’m pleased to inform you, however, that you are going to manage to thwart my attempt. That shouldn’t be difficult to believe, though. By our reports you never seem to stay dead,” Sovaesh said as he pulled his mask down and lifted the glass of Firewater to his lips. “In truth, the only reason I left the city was to see my grandson and speak with you.”
Jala nodded and looked down at the Bendazzi that crouched at her feet. “Marrow, sit on his left. Emily, on his right. If he moves from that chair rip his throat out,” she said calmly and waited until the Bendazzi had taken their positions before looking up at him once more. “Forgive me for not trusting,” Jala said coldly as she approached the table just enough for him to get a good look at his Grandson.
Sovaesh smiled in understanding and leaned forward in his chair, his expression softening as he watched Legacy. “I love all of my children, but Finn was special to me,” he said softly. “I was so relieved when he turned his back on Avanti and so proud of what he accomplished on his own. It wasn’t an honorable life he led, but it was his own. He didn’t answer to anyone but himself. When I heard he had married, I thought he had finally found his peace in life.”
“He would have, if not for the Avanti and Hemlock,” Jala said, her voice level despite the emotions warring inside her. She wanted to trust the man. She wanted to believe the sincerity he was showing, but he was an Assassin and he served her enemy. “Did you come here to speak of Finn?”
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 48
