Authors: Elysa Hendricks
Tags: #Kidnapping, #Fantasy Fiction, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Life on Other Planets, #Revenge, #General, #Love Stories
A coughing spell ended Zoa’s declarations. Breath wheezed
through the girl’s blue lips as she struggled for air. Instinctively,
Sianna reached for her.
To attempt a healing now was beyond foolish. Fatigue and
hunger already sapped Sianna’s strength. A healing would leave
her weaker still, but she didn’t fight her urge to assist. Splaying
her fingers across Zoa’s back, Sianna shut her eyes. Warmth
radiated from her hand as she concentrated on seeing Zoa’s
illness. Colors swirled behind her eyelids, then a thick grey sludge
crept across her vision, obscuring the pleasant kaleidoscope.
A prickly sensation shot up Sianna’s arm and lanced through
her chest. She gasped. Time ceased to have meaning as she
absorbed into herself the disease destroying Zoa’s tiny lungs.
Finally, Zoa’s spasms passed, and she leaned limply against
Sianna’s chest. Though not yet completely healed, already Zoa
breathed easier. A flush of healthy pink replaced the blue tinge
around her eyes and mouth.
The little girl stirred and blinked in confusion. “I have to go
now. Grenna gets mad if I’m late for bed.” Zoa slipped off
Sianna’s lap and made her way to the door. “Can I visit you
again?” she asked shyly.
Too breathless to speak, Sianna smiled and nodded. Seconds
later the girl was gone, leaving Sianna alone again with Warda.
As if he understood, Warda moved back to her side, his yellow
eyes watching her with concern.
Never before had a healing taken so much of her, left her
so drained. Then never had she attempted to heal with so little
in reserve. These last few days of fear and hardship had taken
their toll, leaving her unfit to use her skills. The Sisters had
often cautioned her to practice restraint in the use of her talent,
to give a little at a time rather than all at once, to build her
strength before attempting to heal, but when she touched Zoa,
prudence had fled in front of need.
Bit by bit, the tight band around her chest loosened, her
breathing eased as she struggled to regain equilibrium. She had
given too much, too fast to recover quickly, but she couldn’t
regret the healing she gave the child. Zoa would live, and given
time, Sianna would regain her strength.
How much time did she have?
Heavy with fatigue, Sianna’s eyelids drooped and her head
nodded forward.
Warda whined and nudged her hand. The feel of his cold,
wet nose roused her to stagger the few steps along with him to
his place by the hearth and curl up on his rug. When he curved
his shaggy body behind her, she sighed softly, but sleep evaded
her long into the night as she coped with the aches and pains of
an ill-planned healing and worry for her future.
***
Last meal was long over before Kyne left Graham and
made his way toward his room. Even the crowded main hall
was quiet. Only the occasional murmur of a mother to a restless
child broke the silence. The fire burnt low, casting flickering
shadows over the people sleeping nearby, while the rest of the
hall lay in darkness.
The greasy, undercooked meat and soggy, overcooked
vegetables arranged on the tray he carried looked less than
appetizing and tasted worse. But it was all he could find in the
chaos that reigned in the castle’s kitchen. Waste ran rampant.
Something needed to be done, or they would deplete what stores
they had long before winter set in.
Tomorrow he would consider this problem along with the
others facing him. For now, he wanted to return to the meager
comfort of his chamber and find what rest he could. At the
door he paused. Rest? As long as she remained, he would find
little rest within. Did she even now sleep in his bed? The thought
of her slim body lying where he had lain made him shift in
sudden discomfort.
Anger surged through him. He refused to allow her presence
to disturb him—in any way. Uncaring of the lateness of the
hour, he shoved open the door and stomped into the room. His
gaze flew toward the bed. The empty bed. The empty room.
She was gone.
He slammed the tray on the table and started to turn back
toward the door. The little fool! Alone on the mountain she
didn’t stand a chance of survival. If the elements didn’t claim
her, a wild animal or some renegade would. Despite the risk,
when he found her he’d put her under lock and key, if only for
her own safety.
Warda’s low whine made him pause, and he saw her nestled
against the beast.
Relief replaced rage. Kyne refused to examine the fear he
had felt when he thought her in danger.
“Stay, Warda.” He knelt next to the hound and looked at
the sleeping woman. Still wearing Graham’s coat, knees to her
chest, she huddled there. How innocent she appeared.
Over the odor of quinar and wood smoke coming from her
clothing, Kyne caught a lighter scent, reminiscent of a field of
wild flowers after a summer shower. Fresh and clean, the smell
tugged at him, luring him closer.
Moonlight streamed into the chamber, bathing her pale flesh
in a blue-white glow. Dark shadows circled her closed eyes.
Like a veil of tangled black silk, her hair lay around her shoulders
and down her back.
The heavy mass tempted him. Would it feel as soft as it
looked?
“Moon’s mercy,” he cursed and jerked backward at the
thought.
She moaned softly in her sleep, her body twitching. Of
what did she dream? Of power and riches like her father? Or
of fear and pain? Which did he wish for her?
“Cold,” she murmured, burrowing deeper into Graham’s
coat.
No fire burned in the chamber’s hearth. Since his departure,
a tenday and four ago, management of the castle had fallen
into further disorder. Exhaustion and frustration dragged at
Kyne. Another problem he must address on the morrow.
Through an open window, damp, chilled air swirled across
his skin. He rose and closed the window. A few minutes after
he started a fire, warmth began to fill the room.
Warda stretched and rose, driven from his spot near the
hearth by the heat. His thick, heavy coat was made to withstand
the harsh mountain elements not the comfort of fireside. When
he padded away, the woman curled even tighter in on herself.
The blaze didn’t seem to warm her.
Kyne hesitated. Should he leave her? Even near the fire,
the stone floor was cold and hard. Could he sleep knowing she
lay shivering? As little as he wanted her in his bed, he couldn’t
allow her to take sick. The decision made, he bent and picked
her up. Surprise and guilty pleasure speared him when she
nestled close and gave a sigh, her breath feathering against his
throat like a warm summer breeze.
Laying her on the far side of the bed, he took off Graham’s
coat and her slippers, then he readied himself for sleep, removing
his outer clothing and boots. When he turned to climb into the
bed, he found her curled in the middle. He pushed her over and
settled himself as far from her as the bed allowed. She wiggled
next to him. Weary of the battle to keep his distance, he let her
be.
Sleep evaded him. Unquenched desire for this woman
would be his penance for failing to protect Aubin.
***
A cacophony of sound woke Sianna. The ring of swords.
Voices raised in argument. A clatter of feet and hooves on
stone. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Sunshine poured in
through the window, filling the chamber with a cheerful glow.
An omen of things to come?
She sat up. Her limbs protested the sudden movement, and
she groaned. Sleep restored only a bit of her strength. Last
eve’s exertion combined with long days of unaccustomed activity
left her bruised and sore. The soft mattress beneath her cradled
her aching limbs. She smiled in contentment. While she slept,
Kyne had moved her from the cold hard floor.
The urge to curl back under the covers fought with her
wish to start the day and make a place for herself here among
Kyne’s people. Judging by what she had seen on her arrival,
there was much for her to do. She could not lie abed waiting
for her body to catch up with her mind.
Later she’d hunt up a bath and clean clothing. For now, she
settled for a quick wash from the basin of water she found
near the hearth. The cool water felt good against her grimy
skin. With Kyne’s comb she smoothed most of the tangles and
dust from her hair, then straightened her borrowed attire as
best she could. Her stomach rumbled. Putting on her slippers
she left the chamber in search of first meal. Warda followed
quietly.
Outside the chamber door, the noise level increased, and
the stench of charred meat, singed fur and other less pleasant
odors hung thick in the air. Even if she would eat meat, the
smell did little to tempt her appetite. Resting her hand on Warda’s
head, she moved down the hall.
At the top of the stairs she paused. Worse than she
remembered, chaos reigned in the great hall. A hundred or more
people milled about. Off to the left, people too weak to move
lay on pallets. Her need to help these people drew Sianna
forward. She stopped. First she must eat and gain strength. If
she collapsed, she would be of no aid.
In the center of the hall two men, actually lanky boys no
older than ten and four annum, fought with swords. Around
them others scrambled to avoid being trampled or skewered by
the flashing weapons. No one seemed concerned, so Sianna
assumed the boys merely practiced rather than fought in earnest.
To the right, women tended to a group of children. As Sianna
reached the bottom of the stairs, one child, a boy of about six
annum, stepped away from the rest, right between the two
combatants.
A woman screamed. The boy froze, eyes wide in terror as
a crystal sword swept toward his head. Momentum prevented
the sword wielder from checking his swing.
Just before the sword made its pass through the boy’s neck,
Sianna lunged forward and knocked him to the floor. Heart
racing, she lay atop the now crying child. Hands reached for
her, pulling her up. Voices babbled, but she couldn’t hear over
the thundering of her heart and the whistling sound of the sword
rushing over her head. She stood shaking in the center of a
group of people.
“Silence!” Kyne’s roar echoed off the stone walls until
only the child’s whimpers remained.
Like a crystal flower seeks the sun, Sianna turned toward
Kyne, her body swaying in reaction and relief.
“What goes on here?”
Another swell of sound started. “Quiet! You.” He pointed
at the woman cradling the crying child. His voice dropped to a
gentler note. “Tell me what happened.”
The woman stuttered her reply, clutching her uninjured child
to her ample bosom. With every word, Kyne’s gaze grew harder.
When she finished, he turned toward the two boys, playing as
men, who stood awkwardly holding their swords.
“The rest of you go about your business. You two, stay.”
Without protest, the crowd dispersed. They talked in hushed
tones, the bustle of the hall muted by the near tragedy.
On quivering legs Sianna started to back away as well, but
Kyne reached out and pulled her to his side, an arm wrapped
around her waist. Shaken, she accepted his body’s warmth and
support. A split second later and the boy’s head would have
been severed from his body. She shuddered, and Kyne’s arm
tightened. With a sigh she leaned into him.
“Come,” he commanded the boys and led them out of the
hall. He pulled Sianna along. In the castle courtyard he stepped
away from her and turned on the boys. “Fighting in the hall.
You are beyond foolish.”
“We only want to learn, Rul,” one boy spoke defiantly. “We
meant no harm.”
“Is that what you would tell the lad’s mother when her
child lay dead, his severed head at her feet?”
The boy blanched. The other boy, the one who had swung
the sword, turned and vomited onto the cobblestones. Sianna’s
empty stomach churned at the image Kyne’s words invoked.
Thank the moons she’d been quick enough to avert the tragedy.
“You wish to learn to fight. Very well. Graham,” he called.
Graham stepped forward out of the crowd and looked at
the two white-faced, trembling boys. “Yes, Rul?” Sianna could
feel his repressed humor.
“I have two new recruits for you. See that they begin
training immediately. In the yards, not the hall. Pay special
attention to this one’s aim.” He pointed at the sword wielder,
then turned back to Sianna. “You have my thanks for your
timely intervention.”
His stiff, reluctant words left a sour taste in her mouth. He
didn’t want to thank her, but he felt he must. “To have worth,
gratitude must be freely given.”
Anger swiftly followed surprise in Kyne’s eyes. “You dare
much.”
Though her body still quaked, she met him stare for stare.