Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 (8 page)

Adrian slowly grabbed Jacquin’s knees, assessing her surroundings while forcing herself to remain calm. She looked up, meeting Jacquin’s eyes with her hazel ones, the color of her irises seeming to swim and flash in time with Adrian’s exhaustion.

Adrian’s face twisted in confusion and pain, her silver-white brows knitting over wide eyes. “You helped me?”

“You fought for our Tribe.”

A calm seemed to settle between Adrian and Jacquin, a familiarity and comfort that blocked out the rest of the world and encircled them in peace. Jacquin moved to brush her fingers through Adrian’s hair again and Adrian caught her hand, entwining their fingers. Her grip was solid, protective. Jacquin’s heart trembled in her chest.

Suddenly, Adrian winced as if she’d torn a stitch, but her wound remained sealed. She pulled her hand violently away from Jacquin’s and struggled to get away. Jacquin felt a sharp ache as Adrian broke away from her, leaping to her feet in concern.

“You have to stay still!”

Adrian struggled to her feet, her face twisted with too many emotions for Jacquin to comprehend. Khalisa reached out to her and Adrian pushed her away and threw open the wagon door, letting the scents and sounds of battle flood the wagon again.

“Adrian!” Jacquin shouted, the woman’s name tearing from her throat.

Adrian hesitated a moment in the doorway, every muscle in her body tense, sand brushing past her from the desert beyond. Instead of turning back, Adrian charged back into Oasis, fleeing into the chaos of battle.

Jacquin ran out after her, but Adrian had already disappeared. The pathways of the Tribe were littered with bodies, the scent of death and corpses frying in the desert sun was overwhelming. Jacquin refused to linger over the bodies of her Tribe. She didn’t know who had died, but she knew she had grown up with every one of them, had shared warm summer days dancing with them, cold winter nights curled with them beside a fire. If she let herself see them now, she’d be overcome with grief.

The fighting had died down. There were more wounded being carried to healers than warriors battling changlings. Oasis guards in their burnt orange uniforms charged through the settlement, rounding up surviving marauders.

A loud bang boomed through the air, shaking the ground hard enough to knock Jacquin to her knees. A glowing, swirling dome rose high over the walls of Oasis, sealing the entire town beneath a protective force field. Jacquin looked around in shock and spotted dozens of mages standing atop the town walls, their arms raised high into the air. Jacquin felt a deep ache in her chest as if she’d been suddenly cut off from the rest of the world.

Jacquin reached out for an Oasis guard, his skin dark enough to betray a blood connection to the Tribe. “What’s going on?”

“Another band of changlings was spotted on the horizon. We’ve sealed Oasis. Nothing can get in or out. Return home. We’ll find the rest of the changlings. When we’re sure the town and our perimeter outside the force field are safe, we’ll lift the spell.”

“We’re trapped?”

“For our own good.”

The guard continued on and Jacquin let him go. She held a clenched fist over her heart. If the town was sealed, Adrian wouldn’t be able to leave Oasis.

Khalisa pulled Jacquin to her feet and led her inside the wagon, locking the door behind them.

Jacquin glanced around in shock, trying to adapt to the sudden feeling of isolation brought on by the magical barrier. She spotted Adrian’s curved sword, kicked under Khalisa’s table. She slowly reached out and grabbed it by the hilt, weighing the blade in her hands. There were faint grooves in the handle, smooth curves formed from years of constant use. Jacquin could feel the shape of Adrian’s fingers, slightly larger than Jacquin’s. Jacquin closed her eyes and wondered where the woman had gone, why she’d fled.

“Jacquin, what’s going on? Who was that?” Khalisa’s voice was soft with concern.

“I don’t know. But I’ve seen her before. In my visions.”

“Visions? More than one?”

“Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Since I was a child.”

Jacquin looked up from the blade to her sister, her eyes inexplicably filling with tears. She’d only touched Adrian for a few minutes, but she already missed her touch, the weight of her, the way she smelled and moved. She had seen Adrian’s face for the first time not an hour ago and she felt like she’d lost her dearest friend.

Khalisa touched Adrian’s sword with a small smile turning the corners of her full lips. “It’s a fine blade. Beautifully crafted. She’ll want it back.”

Jacquin wiped the tears from her eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath. “I hope so.”

Khalisa slowly took the blade from Jacquin’s hands and sat it on the table. She pulled her sister into a tight embrace. “I don’t know what you saw about this woman, or how deeply you feel for her. But I saw the way she looked at you. There’s a connection between the two of you. And I’ve seen you do more with a connection and a fine sword than find a mysterious woman.”

Jacquin chuckled and grinned, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “You’re right.”

A grief-stricken wail echoed on the wind, twisting through the cracks in Khalisa’s wagon and both women froze. Jacquin recognized the voice of Aalim’s niece. Jacquin closed her eyes, wondering what dear one she’d lost.

Reality closed in around the sisters, a reminder that their Tribe was significantly smaller, that their dear friends were sprawled dead just outside their home. Khalisa’s grip on Jacquin’s shoulders tightened, neither woman knowing what to say.

Finally, Khalisa spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Jacquin buried her face in her older sister’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She hoped with all her heart Adrian was safe, too.

Adrian stumbled through Oasis, falling back against a rough, adobe wall as her back burned like shards of glass embedded just under her skin. Her illusion, hiding her from sight, flickered as she was distracted by her wounds. She’d used some of her healing magic to seal the cut, but her healing abilities had become harder to control over the last couple years. Only the first few layers of skin had sealed, and she’d only managed that because of Jacquin’s sister’s skill with a needle.

The walls of Oasis loomed over her, the buildings taller and more reminiscent of the Ramains towns further north. Where the wagons of the Tribe had been freeing, the buildings of Oasis were protective. Here there were shadows she could meld into, where in the Tribe she’d had to use a much more powerful invisibility spell to escape Jacquin.

Jacquin. Adrian closed her eyes, her face twisting with rage, desire and fear. Even as far from the Tribe as she could be without crossing the force field she could sense the woman near. The Fates had a cruel sense of humor, bringing her to Jacquin this way.

Night had already fallen, the cold setting in, chilling her to the bone. She’d stolen a shirt and cloak from an abandoned house but it wasn’t warm enough to ward off a night in the desert. She’d need to find a different source of heat.

Adrian slowly sat, the ground of Oasis proper damp from the humid heat of the living oasis at its center, a garden of tropical plants and trees surrounding a large pool of water. In the distance she could hear the wailing cries of families mourning their loved ones and, even further, the sound of drums and flutes, the pound of dancing feet. She could see flames licking high at the sky. The Tribe was burning their dead, celebrating their lives.

Adrian grabbed her right wrist, her skin still throbbing from touching Jacquin. She peeled back her sleeve and clenched her jaw. The lines of her lifestone birthmark were inflamed, her skin swelling and growing hard as a real lifestone, lying dormant beneath her skin her entire life, rose to the surface. She’d been avoiding finding her bondmate since she’d realized what lifebonding entailed, running fast and far in the hopes that she’d never find her heart so entwined with another she would literally die if she wandered too far from her bondmate’s side.

Now here, in the middle of the desert, nearly as far from her birthplace as she could possibly be, a strange desert woman had triggered her lifestone in the heat of battle. Adrian clenched her fists with rage. If she’d just been fighting in a different part of town. If she’d been a day later following the Circle to Oasis or if she’d never left the Grey Exiles in the first place she never would have met Jacquin. But the Fates had intervened, guiding her down the exact path she needed to follow to find herself enslaved to a woman she barely knew.

Still, as she thought of Jacquin, her gentleness, her softness, the dark curves of her body and obvious skill with a short sword, she knew she could have been bonded to far worse. If their paths had crossed differently, Adrian might have pursued her. She grinned slowly, remembering the feel of her cheek resting on Jacquin’s thighs as Jacquin’s sister stitched Adrian’s back closed.

Adrian shook her head hard, her cheeks growing dark with rage. The fond thoughts weren’t her own, they were because of the bonding. Evolution was dragging her to Jacquin and she refused to be its pawn. She had more important things to do than fawn over a beautiful woman. The lifestone wouldn’t control her.

Then why are you hiding in the cold?

The thought whispered through her mind, cutting through the tangled knots of her emotions. She pounded her fist rhythmically against the wall, locked in a battle of wills with her own mind. The Tribe’s bonfire was more than warm enough to keep her safe through the night, and there was no need for her to stay close to the Circle; they were nursing their own wounds and just as trapped as anyone else. If it wasn’t for Jacquin, she’d be at the fire already. Her bonding was controlling her, turning her into a scared child. Still, she knew there were other reasons she wanted to venture back to the Tribe. Reasons that could find her locked to the Tribe forever.

If she’s your bondmate, you should know more about her.

Adrian scowled. It was a sound strategy, and the Mother knew she wanted to know more about the mysterious Tribeswoman.

She has your sword.

Adrian huffed, loud and deep like an angry horse.
Fine.

She eased back to her feet, making sure not to break the tender healing flesh over her wound, and dug her hands in her pockets as she shrouded herself in shadow and headed toward the Tribe bonfire.

Smoke rose in waves into the air, drifting high into the sky. Adrian watched it fly, hampered only briefly by the magical barrier over the town. It seemed the force field didn’t affect weather.

Adrian skirted along the outside of the Tribe’s bonfire, avoiding the massive gathering of dancers and performers. The fire rose at least a head taller than anyone moving around it, waves of heat blanketing dancer’s circle almost to the edge of the main town. Buried deep in the fire were the wrapped bodies of those who had died in the raid, Tribe and desert man alike. While many of the desertmen chose to bury their dead, those with blood ties to the Tribe seemed to have turned out en force to honor their heritage.

The wood had obviously been treated with oils and herbs, casting a sharp, spiced scent into the air to subdue the smell of burning flesh. The precious commodities had to be delivered from the north expressly for use in funeral pyres. The Tribe must have used their entire stock to honor their dead.

The Tribe moved around the fire, dancing and singing, celebrating the lives of those who had passed. The only mourners weeping seemed to be desertmen. Still, if Adrian looked close enough, she could see the tears sparkling in the eyes of the musicians, whipping off the cheeks of the dancers as they spun and rolled.

Adrian silently searched for Jacquin, keeping to the shadows, her eyes flitting across the performers. She didn’t know Jacquin’s profession, but she could guess from her physique, the intensity in her eyes, the way she’d fought that she was one of the Tribe’s performers. Adrian could tell she wasn’t a sword dancer – Jacquin handled a sword differently. Still, Jacquin wasn’t among the dancers or fire twirlers, but Adrian could feel her near. Adrian wondered if she had stayed home, mourning a loved one.

Adrian wandered deeper into the settlement, moving toward a small marketplace formed from rows of wagons and carts. Herbal remedies and spiced soaps scented the air, silks and candles sold next to dried fruit and magical charms. Adrian grinned wryly at the charms, more talismans than genuine magical symbols.

The shopkeep, an elderly woman wrapped in colorful, patched robes, her dark grey hair threaded with beads and feathers, circled around to her. The woman was obviously playing on merchant superstitions about desert witches. “See anything you like, wanderer?”

Adrian pulled back her hood far enough to reveal her face. “I’m looking for Jacquin n’Huitaca.”

The woman smiled, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Ah. You seek a different kind of magic, then.”

Adrian’s brows lifted in surprise. “She’s a mage?”

The woman laid a dark, wrinkled hand on a smooth crystal ball. “Seer. One of the most gifted outside the Great Market. She’s doing card readings tonight one row over.”

Jacquin snorted. “Between you and me,
Min
, do you mean an actress?”

The woman lifted her hands, stacks of bangles clinking like wind chimes as they shifted around her thin wrists. “You will have to decide for yourself, wanderer.”

Jacquin dropped a small gemstone on the woman’s table for her information and continued deeper into the market.

“You’ve traveled a long way to find yourself here.”

Adrian froze, Jacquin’s voice drifting through the sounds of haggling and the pound of drums. Adrian instantly spotted her sitting at a booth outside an old, worn wagon, a deck of ancient tarot cards resting in her hands.

She was obviously a dancer, dressed only in layers of thin, scarlet ribbons knotted and tied like intricate embroidery over her chest and hips and strung in her long, raven hair. The fabric hugged her body, every line and curve on full display, the loose ends of the ribbons swaying, adding rippling movement to every motion. Adrian’s heart pounded in her chest, a deep ache spreading through her stomach and hips. She couldn’t help but imagine Jacquin dancing near the bonfire, encircled by flame and desert sand.

Adrian popped her jaw, trying to relieve tension, and fought the urge to move closer, resting against the side of an empty cart, her arms crossed over her chest. Her wrist burned. Her heart ached.
This was a mistake.

“You’re a messenger of the Mother,” a merchant wept as she hugged Jacquin close, finding whatever answers she needed in Jacquin’s obviously faked predictions. She dropped a few coins on Jacquin’s table and left, traveling back to the fire.

Jacquin collected the money with a sweep of her hand and for a brief moment her face fell. She wiped a tear from her eye before it could fall down her cheek and Adrian stood straighter. There was a haunted sorrow in her eyes as she glanced at the woman walking away, a look Adrian knew too well. The look of a mage…. Adrian studied her face, painfully open and honest for less than a breath. Perhaps the seer of Oasis wasn’t completely fake.

Before Adrian realized it, she was standing before Jacquin’s cart. She couldn’t fight it. Jacquin looked up, her eyes wide in surprise, and Adrian suddenly forgot why she’d ever wanted to stay away.

Jacquin’s voice was full of surprise, her eyes softening from sultry fortune-teller to genuine concern. “Adrian?”

“You have my sword.” The words spilled from Adrian’s lips unbidden. She silently cursed herself for being so tactless.

Jacquin nodded and stepped into her wagon, returning shortly with Adrian’s sword, now cleaned and polished.

“It’s a beautiful weapon,” Jacquin observed as Adrian sheathed her sword. “Did the stitches hold?”

Adrian tossed her cloak over one shoulder, turned and lifted the back of her shirt to show Jacquin the sealed skin. Jacquin gasped, instinctively reaching out to touch Adrian’s wound. A swell of heat spread from Jacquin’s fingers across Adrian’s back, making her heart pound in her throat. “Do you always heal so quickly?”

Adrian turned, readjusting her clothing. “Healing magic. It would never have sealed so well without your sister’s help.”

Jacquin smiled, the expression genuine and sparkling. “Khalisa will be pleased to know it.”

“Is she safe?”

Jacquin nodded. “She’s angry. She tried to warn the Council about the attack and they wouldn’t listen to her.”

Adrian sat at Jacquin’s table, her brow rising in confusion. “She knew about the attack beforehand?”

“I saw a changling in the desert. They never travel alone.”

Adrian’s face hardened, her eyes squinting with a sudden sense of protection and frustration. “Why didn’t they believe you?”

“I’m a seer and a false fortune teller. The Council doesn’t see me as particularly reliable.”

“You really are a seer then?”

Jacquin looked her over carefully, her eyes intense, studying Adrian, searching her face for something unspoken. Adrian studied her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. “How much do you really know about me, Adrian?”

Adrian sat back in surprise. “Nothing,” she admitted. “Nothing but what you’ve told me.”

“You’ve never dreamed…” Jacquin’s words broke off mid-sentence, her eyes edged with pain. Adrian’s heart ached as she realized she’d somehow hurt Jacquin already.

Adrian laid a deep red gem on Jacquin’s table. “Read my cards.”

Jacquin looked up in shock. “What?”

“Tell me my future.”

Jacquin grinned wryly. “I just told you I make a living fabricating predictions.”

“Then tell me a story.”

Adrian placed her hand on the cards and Jacquin covered it with her own. “No. Not the cards. There’s no magic in them but memories. Come with me.”

Jacquin grabbed Adrian’s hand and led her into her wagon, pulling her card-reading table inside after them. Adrian stood in the middle of the wagon, the structure only large enough to house a small eating area and a pile of pillows and blankets Adrian assumed to be Jacquin’s bed. Adrian stared up in awe at the worn, child-like carvings along the ceiling, the marks soft with the passage of time. The wagon rocked lightly as she walked, lighter and more mobile than Khalisa’s wagon had been. Jacquin’s home was obviously older than many of the other wagons in the Tribe caravan, built for travel.

Jacquin was infused into every grain, every beam. Her colors reflected off the pillows, the curtains, the dark browns, scarlets and oranges dancing as the light slid off silks and hand-made lace. Her scent was heavy in the air, a mix of perfumes and natural musk infused in the pillows, the workbench, the open trunk full of dance costumes.

Her eyes wandered to Jacquin’s bed and her thoughts started to wander to soft curves draped in crimson lace, skin like silk and hot breath on warm, wet skin.

Adrian tore her eyes from the bed and clenched her fists. She had told herself she would only look for Jacquin. Now she was in her home. She was losing control. Adrian redirected her attention to the sketches along the wooden beams, her fingers finding a rough carving of a family, a husband, wife, and two daughters.

“This was my family’s home for many years. Back when the Tribe traveled every winter to the Great Market.” Jacquin crouched on the far side of the wagon, crouching down to light a long, deep green branch of incense. The flame sparked a light plume of smoke that faintly reminded Adrian of the silverpines of home, the scent standing out in sharp contrast with the more exotic spices that permeated the air of Oasis. Adrian lifted a single brow. How did Jacquin know to light such a scent?

“You don’t travel anymore?”

Jacquin lit a scarlet candle inside a stained-glass lantern, its light casting a fractured sunset across the wagon’s walls and the lines of Jacquin’s bare skin. “Business is good here, and the trip can be dangerous. The Tribe has stayed here permanently since I was five tenmoons.”