by Aimee Moore
“We have done nothing wrong,” I said, collecting myself.
“She betrays all of us by laying with the beast,” Mindrik said. “She is an aberration, a blight to our species, a whoring traitor.”
“I am no such thing. You know as well as I that the leyline is destroying our world, Mindrik. Help us heal the wound.”
Sol Lalpund laughed. “And what small, fearful creature told you this?”
“The beast at her side has told her many lies to get into her skirts. She is a blind fool,” Mindrik said.
I could only let out a hurt gasp as I stared at the man in blue robes that I had traveled so far with. Mindrik's revenge was going to hurt me far worse than I had ever hurt him. And this time, it wasn't just my life at stake.
Chapter 22
Molten Locks
The guards weren't nearly as rough with me as the Kraw had been, so I bore my march to the stagnant cell below the castle with dignity. Dal's eyes sparked fury at Mindrik as he was apprehended. After a regretful glance at me, Dal put up no fight, and I knew that he didn't want to cause me harm in a skirmish.
The space below the castle housed beggars, thieves, and a few elderly men who held themselves with distinction. It was roughly assembled with stone and bars worked in to form cells. Dal's cell was next to mine, our space separated by the cold iron of bars.
“See how she whores with a score of bars between them, eh?” One of the soldiers said with a laugh.
“So close, yet so far. Tragic,” the other guffawed, pocketing the keys.
There were no windows to the world above, no fresh air to escape the unsavory smells coming from the other occupants, and no way I wasn't going to freeze to death tonight. After Dal and I had been locked in our cells and the armed men left with satisfied smiles, Sol Creljin and Mindrik stayed behind to gloat.
“You have done well, my student,” Sol Creljin said.
“You could not expect less from me, of course. Whores and beggars are not tolerated in the capital, and traitors are lower still than that. When I saw her giving herself to the beggar beast, my course of action was obvious.”
Sol Creljin nodded. “Yes. Their fates are to be decided in the morning. We cannot have power like hers in the hands of the enemy.”
“Your grace is adept at humor as well, I see,” Mindrik said. “Clever puns from a clever mind.”
Sol Creljin gave a sly smile and let a chuckle escape. “So it would seem that I am.” And with that, the council member with the blue flame over his head departed, leaving Mindrik to glower at me.
“You got your revenge, Mindrik, leave me be,” I said.
“Revenge for what,” Dal growled.
Mindrik gave a sour look to Dal. “You poor beast, did you really think all this time that I didn’t know your affections for her? After the ghastly way you've treated me for the last few months, I finally have the last laugh. What was it you once said to me? 'Enjoy your meal, human, for you never know when it may be your last?' Well then, perhaps it's your turn to be unsure of your future at my hands.”
I looked at Mindrik in horror, seeing for the first time what a dreadful little man he was. I hated myself for considering his hand in marriage for even a fraction of a second.
But Dal only smiled at him, showing powerful canines. “Strut and posture as you wish, human, for in your arrogance it is I who will have the last laugh. Your wounded pride may cost you the world in which you know. The very thing that gave you a reason to preen will swallow you up and smile to the stars.”
Mindrik gave an exaggerated eye roll as he looked down his large nose at Dal. He cast me one more look of loathing and, with a swish of his blue robes, stormed out. A man three cells down wailed.
“Sera, what revenge?” Dal asked when Mindrik had gone.
I pressed myself to the bars that separated our cells, and Dal leaned against his side of the bars, his muscles pressing between the cold iron and warming me.
“He had asked for my hand in marriage, earlier today. And I refused.”
Dal gave a short noise of understanding. No anger or jealousy, simply understanding.
“I confess that a part of me took his offer seriously for only a moment, Dal, because I have always wanted a child, and I didn't not think we could...” My hand went to my belly, a new instinct, and wonder overtook me again. With child? A Kraw child? So soon?
I looked up at Dal to see him watching me.
“How, Dal? How did you know?”
He reached a few fingers through the bars to move strands of red away from my face. “I have spent enough time with you to know that females of your species share time with your moon,” he said quietly. “I do not need my sense of smell to tell me that you have changed, though your scent has been different for many days now. I have waited for you to realize on your own, but perhaps you have had a large share of distractions.”
I leaned into the large, warm fingers that held my world. My eyes blurred over with more tears, and I sucked in a deep breath to bite them back. The sudden surge of emotion was surprising, but not helpful in the slightest. “What are we going to do?”
Dal dropping his hand on a long exhale. “You must not tell Patroma or your people of the child. They will understand a blending of our species far less than a shared moment of intimacy.”
A fierce protectiveness overtook me for the tiny spark within me. “It was more than a moment,” I said with a smile.
Dal returned the smile, then stood, pacing his cage. I stayed seated, quite content to not move, as I watched his keen eyes take in the surroundings. He approached a wall of bars and grasped them with both hands, the muscles in his arms expanding and pushing out veins as he pulled the bars.
The bars remained more steadfast than the large Kraw pulling at them. He let go and paced some more, examining the lock on his door, inspecting the walls that held us. My heart danced within my ribs as I hoped that he would find a solution.
“Dal. Why did you not use your gift to help us avoid capture?”
Dal stopped in his pacing, stilling for but a moment. “I cannot any more until the next sunrise.”
Dal palmed his way around the roughhewn rock before finally coming to sit next to me with a long sigh.
I reveled in his body heat, even though some of my tremors were not from cold.
“We will not be well nourished here, which is dangerous for you. Whoever returns for us will not be kind. We must leave of our own accord.”
“The bars. They’re too strong for you? I know you didn’t apply your full strength.”
“They are reinforced deep into the rock. No doubt, one of your Gifted put them there.”
“How are we going to get free, Dal?”
Regret crossed the distance in his eyes. “I do not wish to ask this of you, but we cannot wait. All metal has a weakness to heat.”
My heart beat erratically. “Dal, you know I can’t. I want to, very much, but I’m useless with my gift. Even Sol Lalpund couldn’t coax it out of me.”
Dal closed his eyes, as if preparing for a nap, as if I had not spoken and our predicament was not so. I waited. There were many things I did not know about Kraw.
“Give me your hand,” he murmured. I reached through the bars, bars that made my wrists and fingers look as twigs, and waited. Dal raised his palm to mine and let a long breath out of his nose. I studied his face, strong lines set into handsome muscles and bone, long black lashes fanning intuitive eyes, betraying a softness in the war-forged man I loved. When Dal lifted his lashes to me, I waited, watching the warm breath of spring in his hazel eyes.
“I did not wish to do this,” he whispered to me. “It is an intrusion to you, a violation. And likewise, it is an intrusion to me. For both it is dangerous. This is a desperate act, Sera; not to be taken lightly.”
I furrowed my brow, not understanding what Dal was about to do. “Can all Kraw do this?”
“Yes. But few times in our lives only, as the pathways ignite, and we perish.”
/>
“Oh,” I whispered.
“It will hurt,” he whispered.
I swallowed. “I trust you.”
“This will change things, Sera. Some, of this, you won't understand, and much like your wall, I need you to flow past it now with the same understanding you have learned in our time together. Can you do that?”
I nodded slowly, my heart thrumming.
Dal took his time as he spoke, adjusting the palm of his hand and his fingers so that our hands were lined up precisely. “I have never done this before with a human.” Regret tinged his tone. “If the pain is too great, you must resist.”
I frowned. “How?”
“Any way that is clearest to you. I do not know how this will affect one of your species. But if I must take a risk, handle dice, as your people call them, then I want to be the one holding the dice.”
“Okay, Dal.”
He looked at me as he always had, reading the pages of the book that was Seraphine of Lambston. No other man had ever looked at me like this. No other man had seen me trust him with my life, and now the life of my child. Whatever intrusion he thought he was imposing on me, I could think of nothing in my heart or my body that he was not aware of. He had to have known it.
With a nod, Dal closed his eyes. The deep timbre of his voice filled the space between us. “Close your eyes. And remember what I have said.”
I closed my eyes. At first, the buzz of sudden darkness over my vision was all that I was aware of, and then my senses opened to the noises of the other inhabitants of this prison. Scuffling, sniffling, coughing, moaning. The smells came at me, renewed. Dal's palm against mine was hot and rough, still as stone and twice as reliable. My heart galloped into my throat as I remembered the pain he had spoken of.
And he wasn't wrong. My hand against his, the arm holding it, and the shoulder from which it came locked of their own accord, painful, a cramp that I could not shake. I forced myself not to fight it, to trust in Dal, but the pain was panic-inducing. Just when I thought I couldn't handle any more, a new pain blossomed in my skull. It was stinging pressure, and a gasp escaped my lips from somewhere far away.
But I wasn't alone in my mind any longer. He was there. Dal was part of me then, and images not of my own flashed through my pain addled mind. I saw myself in that filthy bone cart lifetimes ago, eyes wide with wonder as I stared at what must have been Dal for the first time. I was fascinating, fierce, and breathtaking. That couldn't have been me.
Disbelief colored my emotions, and a laughter met my mind. Deeper the stinging pressure went, and my body became rigid with shock. Then I was pacing around a dirtier, thinner version of myself on the floor of the hut, telling myself that I had this gift and that I had to believe. Lust simmered into me, a tightly controlled ache.
Was that my lust for him or his for me? The presence in my mind, the intimate sensation of Dal, shied away from the memory, searching through my being for something. I knew what that something was now, he was searching for my gift, trying to find it and lay its secrets bare to us. Humor pierced the pain, as I wished his presence luck in finding what even I could not uncover.
Confidence surged against me, and more memories flashed through me. There I was in the cave, pressing my lips to Dal for the first time. A thrill of lust and affection surged through me, us, at the memory. Within Dal's mind, I heard him say do not fear me as if it were myself speaking and not him. I saw, like a series of gears turning against each other, each of my obvious actions and thoughts to come.
Dal knew already, through flawless intellect, what I was to do. But still, his heart was hammering with tightly controlled need. I watched through Dal's eyes as my clothes were discarded in the darkness, yet Dal's eyes took in every detail of my body in ways that not even I had seen, as if the cavern was lit by the brightest noon sun. My skin was like glowing silk, my red hair was a luxurious embodiment of the very flame that seemed to seep out of my being like a warm glow.
I watched in vivid clarity the confused look on my face when he told me there would be pain, but to him it was beautiful and painfully innocent. Regret at taking that innocence flared up in our joined minds for but a moment until I saw myself nod, the complete trust in my eyes evident even to me, the bystander to his memory. And then, with great patience and pleasure, he was entering me, and our memories merged much like our bodies had.
The echoes of the past sensations each of us experienced came at me in waves, my shock and pain, his regret and sorrow mixed with the most exquisite pleasure he had ever known. Our emotions floated to us, my complete trust and wonder, and yes, even the stirrings of feelings for him.
But what I did not expect was his feelings for me at that time. He had feelings for me, and with every thrust, ecstasy and emotion grew while he all but roared at the intense restraint he exercised making careful love to me. My reaction to the memory was surprise, and immediately we were steered away from it, as if he did not want to share his feelings. But I had felt those emotions as surely as if I were Dal in that moment, and there was no denying that he had some sort of affection beyond lust or a need to be filled.
An impatience surged against me, and memories flashed in and out of my consciousness like playing cards being shuffled. Twice the memory of my face back in our quarters upstairs surfaced, and with a welling of self-indulgent curiosity, I tugged it to a stop. It was Dal, arguing with me just before we had been apprehended. My emotions: anger, confusion, and dismay, all floated about in the memory, giving color to what would have been only Dal's memory.
But so, too, did Dal's emotions color the memory. Great worry, guilt, curiosity, and wonder. Because he knew. I watched from his eyes as he remembered trying to steer me toward safety without telling me of my condition. Worry that our earlier rutting in the cave, fulfilling his selfish desires, had harmed the child and perhaps it was not wise to tell me what he knew.
In but the blink of an eye, I experienced his brilliant mind play out everything he could have said to me, and what my reactions would have been. He took the most logical course, already seeing what future it would bring, as a river always takes the strongest and most logical course to the ocean. I was humbled as I witnessed this in the span of a breath.
I watched myself speak of Patroma's promise to me should I escape her capture with Dal as my guard. Dal's pain lanced through both of us at the memory, and it was sharper than the pain spiking through my head in the present. Dal's very chest had constricted with horror, his throat clenching with the urge to let out a battle cry of defiance.
I watched through his eyes as he saw me sit with dizziness, and the realness of my situation caused him to treat me as glass. He told me about the child, regretful that the time wasn't better, nearly choking on the joy and fear that welled up in him all at once. And then I felt it, the thing I didn't think he was capable of for me, and it nearly put me on the floor.
He was in love with me. It defied everything he knew about relationships. It was not convenient or arranged or even practical, yet, in this moment, a surge of love poured through him that was so strong I forgot to breathe. Didn't he know that I loved him, too? With all my being?
The answering emotion was an amused acknowledgment. But, there was no hint of my gift even in that emotionally charged moment, and so he shuffled onward. To arriving on the council’s doorstep and letting anger lick flame up my hands. Dal probed in my mind, not finding what he needed here either. The images shuffled on.
I was brought back to the moon-kissed battlefield the night we escaped into the snow. Only this time, it was my turn to show. A gentle prodding as I watched Dal being beaten encouraged me to relive the memory.
And I did. The extreme loss that ravaged me as I saw him dying, the screams as blood splashed into the snow, giving myself to the fire and despair within, the blackness. And then a new sensation happened in the blackness. Dal was here, and with a feeling of triumph, he dove into that moment when I had unleashed hell on the Kraw. Somewhere in my being was a pushi
ng, expanding, and shifting. And like the tumblers in a lock, like stars that align just right, all at once I sucked in a breath as the fire within me ignited into my reach, easy and obvious.
All this time I had been fumbling with it like a child trying to force a key into a lock backward. What lock, though? I only needed to nudge the door and let the wind take me inside. Now, everything was clear. Satisfaction pushed into me, and just as suddenly as I had become rigid and trapped in pain, I was free, relief throbbing through me as I pulled my hand away, gasping for breath.
Dal lowered his hand slowly, watching me with concern etched into his brow. “You are not harmed?”
I was breathing fast, as if I had just run a marathon, trying to take control of all of the emotions that he had slammed into me. And they were vast, deep, and unexpected. I choked a shaking sob as I raised my hand to my mouth. He was in love with me. Dal loved me.
I shook my head. “No, I'm fine,” I whispered, looking into his eyes.
Dal gave a nod, turning his attention to the bars. As if nothing had happened.
“Dal,” I said between us.
“Sera.” He was still distracted, eyes darting between the bars, calculating.
“Dal, I know how you feel.”
His gaze met mine, and my heart beat in my ribs like a canary trying to burst through and fly into the sunset.
“You're in love with me,” I whispered.
“Your species. When they're not making emotions, they're dwelling within them,” he said with a humorous note.
I gave a half smile. “And what does your species call it?”
Dal's body softened, and he spoke in a calm voice. “Sera, we do not have time for this. There is more at stake than what transpires between us. You must focus on our escape now. There will be time for us to discuss the rest later.”
But I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to hear him say it. All at once I was stung and despairing for affection. Couldn't he just say it? Just once? I knew I was being emotional, far more than usual, but I couldn't help the pain welling up within me.
