Alliance Forged (14 page)

A mistake.

In profile, she was so feminine and beautiful. The early-afternoon sun lit her face, her expression so calm and serene it reminded him of a lake at dawn, the epitome of tranquility. Even though she’d witnessed him killing Rystin, she still possessed an untouched sort of innocence, one he envied right to the darkest corner of his soul.

What would it feel like to know such peace? He swallowed hard and glanced down at his hands. They were filthy from digging the grave, coated in dirt that had mixed with his sweat and turned to mud. Rubbing his fingers together, the dried soil crumbled away and he wished his heart were so easily cleaned.

“They’re
Her
children, too, no matter what they believed.” Kymora clasped her amulet in her hands. “Prayer is a powerful medium.
She’ll
listen if you’re sincere.”

Her words sparked an ache deep inside him.

“Even if you’re a nonbeliever?” He wasn’t sure if he’d voiced that question aloud until she replied.

“Yes.”

Her simple answer made him blink. He’d assumed since he’d always rejected
Her
that the
Lady
would do the same to him.

“
She
walks beside us whether we choose a personal Journey with
Her
or not.
Her
love for us is unwavering and
She
welcomes our prayers or thoughts.” Her thumbs traced the thin metal rays of the sun. “If you’re not sure what to say, the
Lady
knows your heart and what you feel. It’s what I rely on when words fail me.”

He frowned. How could she ever be at a loss for words? Surely in her role as the
Lady’s
Handmaiden she’d prayed many times over those who’d died?

“When you know the people you’re praying for, the words become tangled with your emotions.” She closed her eyes and fell silent.

Familiar enough with her role as priestess, Varian knew her thoughts were focused on the dead and their Final Journey. The awkwardness he usually experienced witnessing a religious rite was strangely absent. Instead it felt right the three
Na’Chi
were honored in such a way. Perhaps knowing they believed in the
Lady
helped.

Breathing deeply, the pungent odor of freshly dug soil washed through him. He stared down at the three graves, his gaze resting on each. The heat of the midday sun rippled and danced like a master musician’s fingers over her instrument.

A corner of his mouth lifted. The comparison would have pleased Rystin. Tonight the humans would sing a death-song in memory of the three
Na’Chi
, a ritual he never quite understood. Why sing of something that caused you pain? But it was their way, and he’d respect it.

Varian rolled his shoulders, glad for the quiet. Death had come too soon for all three, and he hoped that if the
Lady
truly cared, then their faith in
Her
would see them safely to whatever afterlife
She
granted them.

Did wishing them protection and peace constitute a prayer? He felt foolish enough just thinking about petitioning a deity he hadn’t prayed to in over fifteen years. Perhaps
She’d
listen since he hadn’t asked anything for himself.

He waited until Kymora’s head lifted and her eyes opened before he spoke again.

“Hesia made sure each of us knew about her faith. Eyan and Geanna followed the
Lady’s
teachings. Rystin may not have been as devout as the younger ones, but he also believed in
Her
.” He took a slow, deep breath. “They would have appreciated you praying for them.”

Kymora closed her eyes briefly, Varian’s words easing much of the tension between them. Silently she thanked the
Lady
for her
guidance and for the wisdom to employ the strategy she had in approaching him.

The animosity in his opening greeting had been as fiery as the sun beating down on them. Zaune’s faltering stride and squeeze of warning on her forearm made her question her judgment. Had she not sensed the raw pain behind the anger in Varian’s voice, she’d have been forced to concede that Arek was correct in his assumption.

During the challenge, she hadn’t been able to distinguish between either Rystin or Varian’s auras, the intensity of their emotions so strong it’d been like staring into the sun. The aftermath had left her frightened and shaken, and battered by the fear of what they’d witnessed coming from the other humans around her.

Combined, the grief and guilt marking Varian’s soul felt like a livid bruise scoring her senses. Now with barely an arm’s length between them, his aura pulsed with a heaviness that concerned her. It was shockingly raw, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal, almost tangible in its intensity.

Mother of Mercy
, how long had he carried this around with him? Blinking fast, Kymora fought the sting of tears behind her eyes. Varian would mistake them for pity, shut down, and her chance to help him would be lost.

Resting back on her heels, she folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll include them in my prayers tonight.” She hoped the tremor in her voice would be mistaken for sorrow for the dead rather than her reaction to his pain. A small smile curved her lips as a recent memory surfaced. “I’m going to miss Eyan’s mischievous pranks. Geanna was usually mixed up in them with him. I don’t think I can remember a day going by when they didn’t play one on someone.”

Varian’s grunt was noncommittal. Even as focused on him as she was, all she could detect was his incredible pain. Did he want to talk?

“Many of the crafters spoke highly of Rystin, particularly Chelle.”

Her voice trailed off as Varian’s aura flared, slashed at her like the
claws of a
lira
, as if the scout’s name were a catalyst. It took everything she possessed not to flinch and betray her reaction. Then she sensed nothing. The void that remained was cold, empty, and rock hard, like a barrier slammed down between them.

Mouth dry, she licked her lips. “Arek says Rystin was a skilled scout and Lisella told me he liked teaching the young scouts in training to track.” She held her breath, waiting for some response. Would he open up about Rystin? “I wish I’d known him as well as they had.”

A
S the silence between them grew longer, all Kymora could hear was the rush of blood in her ears and the hum of insects enjoying the midday heat.

“Varian?” She clenched her fingers together, hoping to hide how much they shook.

“I’m sorry I robbed you of the chance to know Rystin.” Varian’s hollow-voiced statement raised goose bumps over her entire body. “But I won’t apologize for what needed to be done.”

The declaration held a hint of ice-cold fury. Kymora winced. Surely he didn’t believe she blamed him for what had happened?
Lady’s Breath
, she’d only wanted to give him an opening into the conversation.

Turning, she reached out toward him. Her hand was knocked away.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarled.

Air swirled against the skin of her arm as he rose to his feet. Dirt
crunched under boots, and he sounded farther away from her when he spoke again.

“Rystin challenged me. I killed him. I did what I had to, to ensure my people’s survival. If that makes me a monster in your eyes, then so be it. I am what I am and what I’m needed to be.”

Blood rushed from Kymora’s face.
Mother of Mercy
, his voice sounded so desolate, so lifeless.

So alone.

Did he truly think she saw him like that?

Gathering her staff and the bag Lisella had given her, she rose. Touch was the fastest way to connect, and it would help her read him, but she had little doubt he’d pull away again if she tried.

“Varian, I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you.” She swallowed, wishing she knew what words to say to convince him. “I thought… if you wanted to talk about Rystin, I could listen….”

Inwardly she cringed. Her explanation sounded lame even to her.

“Ever the good priestess…” He snorted. “Hesia always said confession was good for the soul.” He issued a sour laugh. “Conserve your effort; mine isn’t worth saving,
Temple Elect
.”

His bitter anger and dark sincerity buffeted her. The barrier around his aura burst and anguish bled out like a heart’s vessel sliced open.

Kymora took a step back, overwhelmed. Did he truly think he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness? From the
Lady
or anyone else? Or was it that he couldn’t accept redemption, no matter who offered it? She suspected the latter.

As if he could no longer stand being in her company, Varian walked off, his boot steps hard and rapid as he left her standing alone by the burial mounds. His departure made it clear her presence was no longer welcome.

Kymora twisted the strap of the bag hanging over her shoulder.
Merciful Mother,
what had given him the notion she’d been there in her capacity as the
Lady’s
Handmaiden instead of as a friend? The prayer and discussion about the
Lady
had just been talk guided by what she’d sensed in his aura. Hadn’t he ever had anyone to open up to when faced with times of hardship, like now?

Her thoughts stalled as something Zaune said in an earlier conversation surfaced and coupled with her past memories of Varian’s behavior. Her lips parted on a shocked breath.

Varian had never had a friend.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Zaune and Lisella would claim to be his friends without hesitation.

Varian didn’t
believe
anyone saw him as anything other than their leader.

From previous conversations with Lisella, Varian had just turned fifteen when he’d taken on the role. Given their precarious circumstances and what she now knew about the
Na’Chi
, the obligation he had to have felt to go it alone so as not to seem incompetent or weak must have been strong.

A self-destructive assumption, one she knew well. Kymora’s heart picked up speed as she smoothed her fingertips over the leather stitches along the edge of the bag. Leadership came with certain expectations, ones that set you apart from everyone else, and it made forming true friendships hard.

Never had she and Varian been more alike or so different in their personal experiences.

Kymora held her amulet to her lips a moment. “
Lady of Mercy
, how do I aid a man who doesn’t want my help?”

Leaving him to go through this alone went against every instinct. Giving up on him would accomplish nothing. While she didn’t fault them, that’s exactly what Lisella and Zaune had done earlier. She drew in a deep breath.

The first time they’d met, Varian had reached out to her,
established a connection, and from it their tentative friendship had been born.

“It’s not easy letting others in, Kymora. I’m not a people person. Circumstances have never fostered the level of trust needed to form that sort of bond. I let very few people close to me, but with you, I’m willing to try.”

He’d said those words to her just before joining a roomful of Councilors and their families for the midday meal. She’d asked him to accompany her and he’d made the effort, a difficult step for him. Just how difficult, she was only now beginning to appreciate.

She pursed her lips. Letting a misunderstanding ruin their friendship wasn’t something she was willing to accept. Even though her insides quivered at the thought of facing his anger, she braced herself to follow him and correct the error. A lot of it was self-directed; she recognized that now. Getting him to see past that was going to be the challenge.

Flexing her fingers around her staff, she recalled the direction his footsteps had gone and went after him.

THE trees in the forest provided instant relief from the sun. Varian slowed his pace as a faint breeze rustled through the leaves. It cooled the sweat on his body.

Halting in a small clearing, he tilted his head back and allowed the sounds of the forest to fill him, desperate for a modicum of peace from the fury burning inside him.

Who had decided he needed the
Temple Elect’s
intervention? Lisella? Arek? Perhaps one of the other
Na’Chi
unhappy with his leadership? Maybe Fannis. Had they played on Kymora’s sense of responsibility, knowing she’d put aside her personal feelings to help him as the
Lady’s
Handmaiden? Was that why she’d approached him?

A frustrated growl erupted from deep in his chest. Half a dozen strides later, he reached the edge of the clearing. Spinning on his
heel, he paced back. His
Na’Reish
half was so close to rising again he could feel that part of him straining, pushing against his control, like an animal clawing at his innards, ripping and tearing, seeking a way out.

His hand closed around a branch on a nearby tree. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped it free and hurled it as hard as he could over a clump of bushes. The urge to destroy every tree and plant within arm’s reach itched beneath his skin.

“Varian?”

He froze as Kymora’s call came from behind him from the very edge of the forest. Her familiar scent wafted on the breeze, filled his nostrils, and wound its way inside him, kick-starting an adrenaline rush that left him shaking.

Don’t answer.

He didn’t but he looked. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her making her way through the trees, sweeping her staff in front of her, her stride strong and determined.

“Varian?” The bag over her shoulder snagged on a low bush and jerked her off balance. She stumbled before regaining her footing and freeing herself of the entanglement.

His brows lowered. What was she doing here? Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation at all? She should have stayed by the gravesides where she was safe.

Free of the bush, her head cocked to one side, the concentration on her face absolute as she listened, trying to pinpoint his location. So he remained motionless, even resorting to holding his breath to avoid discovery.

Biting her lip, Kymora started forward again, her pace slower, more cautious, as she moved deeper into the forest, only this time away from where he was standing.