No Light (26 page)

             
She nodded hurriedly.

             
His eyes dropped to her lips, and he had to drag his gaze away. "The relationship between a Dem and his marked is one of mutual respect."

             
"I understand. It won't happen again. I don't know-"

             
He lurched forward and captured her lips. The draw was stronger the second time. He fought to keep his grip gentle, his lips just short of bruising. She whimpered, and he nearly lost control. He pulled away from her, breathing hard. Her dazed eyes rose to his. He cursed.

Chapter Fourteen

The Place Between

             
"You are distraught," he told her. "Your mind is not on your actions." He did not look at her.

             
She gave him a weak nod.

             
He hovered for another moment, as if he would add something, then he turned and stalked away.

             
She watched him until he vanished through the door to the stairwell.

             
"Ms. Mackenzie?"

             
She tipped her head back to look at Eitad. His eyes held what appeared to be concern. She forced a smile.

             
"You are well?"

             
"As can be expected." She ducked her head and let herself into the hotel room.

She pressed the door closed and slid down to the floor.

              "Ms. Mackenzie?"

             
A wave of something threatened to overwhelm her, but she choked it down. "Yes?"

             
She heard Eitad and Mahdi speaking quietly just outside the door. One of them, she thought it might be Eitad, snapped in a foreign language. A moment later, someone tapped the door lightly.

             
"Ms. Mackenzie, do you require anything?"

             
She bit her lip, and whispered, "No."

             
The doorknob twisted and the door bumped against her back.

             
"Ms. Mackenzie. For what reason are you sitting on the floor?" He frowned down at her.

             
"I'm...tired," she finished lamely. She cleared her throat at his dubious expression.               "Do you think I could visit the hospital?"

             
He looked away. "The General has expressed his desire for you to limit yourself to the hotel."

             
She clenched her jaw and nodded. "I understand."

             
He continued to stare at her. "Would-" he broke off and glanced toward the hall. "Would you care to converse?"

             
Sarah blinked up at him. "Are you allowed?"

             
He gave her a curt nod.

             
She slowly climbed to her feet. "Then, yes." She added, "Thank you," as he helped her out of her coat, and hung it over the back of a chair.

             
He nodded. "Do you have a preference of topic?"

             
She wandered across the room toward the sitting area. "Can you tell me about marking?" She heard him sigh.

             
"My ki- my general has given me permission to speak of it."

             
Her head popped up, and she stared at him. "When?"

             
"Before he left."

             
"Oh." Confusion buzzed through her mind. "What is Marking, exactly?" She turned to face the window, vaguely aware of him settling in the chair across from her.

             
"The transference of the ator to a worthy being of another culture," he said, as if reading out of a book.

             
She nodded. Her eyes moved over the cloudless sky. "And what makes a person worthy?"

             
He paused. In his silence, she remembered the king's words. Warriors, kings, leaders of men. She shook her head at herself.

             
"It is an ancient tradition," Eitad started. He seemed to take a moment to think, before he continued, "The general is far older than myself, from a time when Dems marked those who were considered suitable as advisors and battle companions."

             
Sarah glanced at him. "But, I'm neither one of those."

             
He appeared perplexed. "True."

             
"Far- the general said the relationship between a Dem and his marked is about mutual respect."

             
Eitad nodded. "Yes. I assume over time a sort of fondness may develop, but it is ultimately a bond of respect and convenience."

             
"Oh." She rubbed her fingertips over her lips. "What happens if a Dem decides he doesn't want to be bonded anymore?"

             
His gaze jerked to hers, and she got the impression she said something wrong. He shook his head. "That is not done."

             
"Ever?"

             
He moved his dark gaze away from her. "No."

             
"Is it possible?" She watched his brows draw together.

             
"It is." A disgusted look crossed his face. "Only one Marking has been reversed, the Dem separated from his Marked."

             
Sarah frowned. "That doesn't sound too bad."

             
Eitad stared at her. "Survival is impossible. For the Marked."

             
"I don't understand."

             
"The ator is..." he seemed to search for the correct term, "ripped from the Marked. The body violently seizes, all systems fail, and the Marked dies."

             
Sarah stared at him in horror. "That's terrible." She could not suppress a shiver.

             
"It is. That is why we do not speak of it."

             
"But why didn't anything happen when I was suspended?"

             
His eyes moved to her, then quickly away. "That was not a reversal of the marks, but the effects were not pleasant."

             
She turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

             
He visibly swallowed. "I am unsure it is my place." His eyes darted around the room nervously.

             
"Please, tell me? You said the general said it was okay." She could see him waver, before he nodded.

             
"As you say." He took a deep breath. "The effects of separation begin with the Dem, with the Marked feeling very little. It is not until the separation has lasted more than five days, the Marked begins to feel ill."

             
"Ill?" She questioned.

             
He nodded. "Yes. Though I have heard stories about strong bonds, in which the Dem felt pain within two days."

             
She frowned in thought. "What kind of pain?"

             
His lips pressed into a straight line. "I have heard it compared to disembowelment."

             
Sarah grimaced. "But Far- the general didn't feel that. We were apart less than two days."

             
His eyes did not meet hers. "In most bonds, the mild pain would begin after three days."

             
Sarah nodded, then bit her lip. "Why does the Dem feel it before the Marked?"

             
He glanced at her. His lips quirked into a small smile. "You ask very thoughtful questions, Ms. Mackenzie." He continued, "The ator is fractured when a Dem marks their chosen. When the ator is incomplete it is...unstable."

             
"Oh." She tried to digest the information. Her mind spun. "So, is that why the Marked's healing ability takes a while to start working? The...ator has to settle?"

             
An odd expression crossed his face. He coughed. "Yes. It is the reason a Marked is not free to wander before the bond settles. A mortal wound will not heal."

             
She tipped her head to the side. "How long does it take to settle?"

             
Eitad shifted. "Years."

             
"But, I did. Farran said our bond wasn't even strong. That's why we had to..." she blushed. "Why we had to be in contact."

             
The Dem would not look at her. "It should have been impossible." He shook his head. "It has never happened." He suddenly stood. "I will gather refreshments for you."

             
Sarah stared at him. Her eyes widened when he hurried from the room, and pulled the door closed with a soft click. She frowned in confusion. After a moment of silence, her mind began to replay the conversation. He had never answered her question about the effect her absence had on Farran. She pursed her lips.

             
Her eyes moved to the window to watch the grey clouds move in from the south. Her gunshot should not have healed. She pondered the idea for several minutes, trying to decide what it meant. If that were true, Farran lied to her about their bond. She scowled.

...

              "You are content to leave your marked unattended?"

             
Farran glanced at his brother, feeling Tradis' attention turn to them. He sighed. "I am."

             
"You think the human could defend itself?" Lonan sneered. He crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the edge of the forest. "It will yield to any threat and die like any other undersized prey animal.

             
Farran bit back a snarl at his brother's words, and glared at the forest. "She is stronger than she appears," he forced out. He tried to ignore Lonan's incredulous stare.

             
"She appears to be the runt of the litter."

             
He shot his king a dark look, but did not comment.

             
"General!" Farran let out a mental sigh, as Captain Azzan approached. He gave him a sharp nod.

             
"Speak."

             
Azzan bowed to Lonan, then gave Farran and Tradis and quick nod. "We have discovered a break in the line."

             
"Explain." Farran ignored his brother's amused huff.

             
"A tracker noticed a trail from the north east. It leads to the edge of the city." Azzan dropped his gaze at the look Farran gave him.

             
He turned to his second. "Take your battalion and sweep the city. The other stays in place."

             
"As you say." Tradis gave Lonan a quick bow and met his eyes in a nod, before he strode away.

             
"If it pleases my king," Farran gestured toward the city.

             
Lonan sent him an unreadable look, but fell into step with him. "It would please me if I could speak with you, brother."

             
Farran gave him a curt nod, eyes on the street ahead. He noticed the king's guard fall back from the corner of his eye.

             
"Your behavior is not as I remember," his brother said under his breath.

             
"Banishment is a trying experience," he offered by way of explanation.

             
"Yes, I suppose it is." There was something vulnerable about his brother's words.

             
He turned his head to scan his face. Lonan glared at the ground, and for a moment he saw his brother in his youth. A gawky young man, with a shock of white blond hair and innocent blue eyes. He sighed.

             
"My king-"

             
"Lonan," his brother interrupted quickly. "I- I don't not want this space between us."

             
"I see." They walked in silence for several minutes, before his brother spoke again.

             
"I have never seen you behave with another the way you did with the hum- your marked."

             
Farran frowned, but did not meet his questioning gaze. "I do not know of what you speak."

             
Lonan stopped walking. "I would almost believe you have fondness for it."

             
Farran scowled. "Her." He paused, when his brother made no move to continue walking. "Why the interest?"

             
"After you-" he broke off. He looked so unsure, Farran had to force himself not to reach out. "After the banishment, father explained the situation. How you..." He visibly swallowed. "How you chose the humans over your own."

             
Farran scowled. "Is that what father told you?"

             
His brother nodded.

             
"It is not true, Lonan. My loyalty has always been absolute." He met his brother's eyes. "I did not set you aside."