The Last Warrior (16 page)

He pushed open the door. A tiny bell tinkled merrily,
announcing his arrival, as if he'd been missed. A powerful concentration of perfume in the air hit him like a floral wall. He heard female giggles and then a shriek. A few blinks later, when his eyes had adjusted to the dim interior, he saw an assortment of amused and scandalized female faces, their hands over their mouths and, through a jungle of lace and silk under garments, a woman fleeing with her dress half undone.

“Apologies, apologies,” he mumbled. “I reached this destination in error.”

He stormed out, scowling.
Great Uhrth.
He made an immediate escape, striding away from the market. Kurel cleared out of his path, but he barely noticed as he stormed through the narrow streets. His first solo attempt to accomplish a task using Kurel ways had turned into a humiliating rout, with gossiping women's tongues set atwitter.

Back at Elsabeth's house, reached easily when he had only to walk through straight streets that intersected in an orderly fashion, he shoved open the door, consumed by his failure to complete such a simple task. The smell of food stopped him short, that nostril-searing spice filling the room. Puzzled, he also detected the fainter, familiar sweet scent he associated with Elsabeth.

She came rushing in from the clinic next door, a shawl drawn hastily around her, her hair coming out
of its bun. At once, his errors in the marketplace were forgotten in a rush of relief.

“Tao! I was going out to look for you.”

“I was at the market.” They stopped short of each other, their hands grasping at air. He'd nearly dragged her into his arms. Why? Because he'd been so concerned about her safety? Or because she looked so good standing there, her eyes so earnest, pretty face upturned, her lips so…

“Fired,” she said. “I lost my job.”

“T
HAT COWARDLY, LYING
bastard left fingerprints on your arm.”

Tao's tone was as deadly as his glare, his warm hand wrapped around her wrist. Elsabeth felt his other hand sliding up her arm, the pad of his thumb callused as he moved it over the bruises, while she told him the events that had led to her being barred from the palace. The sound of the children crying haunted her, a wrenching farewell as Xim had shoved her out the nursery and toward a passing palace guard, commanding him: “See that this sorceress is put off palace grounds,” before he'd turned back to the classroom.

Sparing her. The bruises Tao found unacceptable were nothing to her, not when the king could have easily commanded: “See that this sorceress is executed for violating the Forbiddance.”

Elsabeth wondered why she'd been allowed to live, really. “I think there's part of Xim that doesn't want to alienate Aza completely. He still loves his wife.”

Tao made a derisive growl in his throat. “If he does, he's certainly challenged in how he shows it.”

“Maybe so, but his love for her is a weakness. Weaknesses can be exploited.”

Tao tipped his head down to better see her, his regard admiring. “You would have made a fine battlefield commander.”

“Not a general?”

His hands lingered on her, his touch warm, changing from the caring touch of first aid to…something entirely different. In that moment of stillness, the atmosphere became charged. She could feel the heat of his body across the narrow space between them, and yet neither pulled away. “If I promoted you to general, you would have been sent far from me,” he said. “And I'd have wanted you to remain near.”

What was he saying? Her pulse quickened, and she suddenly found herself imagining what it would feel like to have more than his hands on her. His mouth. His whole body, heavy and strong. What would it feel like to have Tao as a lover?

Tao let his hands slip away. “Forgive me. I can't visualize you in the Hinterlands. With the Gorr about.”

She pulled down her sleeve, turning sideways so he wouldn't see how close she'd come to quenching her curiosity about that kiss. “I'm more worried about Xim than I am about the Gorr. I can't see Aza or the children. I can't see Markam. What am I supposed to
do now? Rely on Navi for scraps of information?” She spread her hands. “All this because of books, because Aza was reading.”

“A story for children, you said.”

“Shocking, isn't it? What are the Tassagons so afraid of? Why is knowledge so wicked?”

“It's a fight that's been perpetuated out of fear and ignorance for centuries—your mistrust of war and warriors, and ours of science and books. We've all been fools.”

“Not all. Not Aza. Markam reads, as do you.”

He drummed his fingers against his chest. “Not I,” he said quietly.

“I thought you knew how…”

“What I told you about obtaining a book in the Hinterlands was true. What I led you to believe, that I truly had read the book, was not.” He stood and paced away from her. “I couldn't decipher the marks. I sat and I struggled, but I couldn't for the life of me fathom why anyone would waste their time when there weren't even pictures. Then coming here—” his voice lost its edge “—being with you, a learned woman, a beautiful woman, it shamed me to admit I didn't understand books when your entire society revolves around them.”

Beautiful?

“Here. The proof of it.” He pulled out her money pouch from his trousers pocket. It landed on the table
with a chink of coins. “I went to the market while you were gone. I wanted to purchase building supplies to fix your aviary. I could not find the right store, because I could not read.” He stalked away to the window, one hand flat on the wall as he peered toward the southern wall. “I seem…like an ignorant brute.”

“Which you are not.” It was hard to believe she'd once thought differently. “I don't look down on you for being illiterate. You simply were never taught. To expect you to read would be like expecting me to know the ways of war.”

But consternation tightened his handsome features. “When the elders told me I'd have to live as a Kurel, I agreed only to appease them, and you. I agreed so that I could survive and I could serve—not because I had the desire to learn your ways.” He dropped his hand and laughed without humor. “As an honorary Kurel, let me be as frank as one—foremost in my mind was staying out of the dungeon. But now I want to learn. Teach me, Elsabeth. Teach me how to read.”

He strode to her main bookshelf and, after only a moment of deliberation, pulled a thick book off it. The cover was dark glossy blue with gold embossed lettering. With respect, he carried it to the couch and sat, patting the cushion next to him. “Come, Elsabeth.”

The general looked as eager to tackle the feat of learning to read as she was delighted to be the one to unlock the doors of literacy for him. She chose a
storybook from a selection she kept for the palace and joined him. His arm brushed hers as he drew it back to allow her room to fit next to him. His thigh was wedged firmly against hers. He'd sat so close to her she was practically in his lap.

Then she remembered the choice of proximity had been hers. But Tao seemed hardly to notice. He was no doubt used to women snuggling close.

He smoothed his hand over the book in his lap, almost reverently. “Today you will reveal the secret of these pages.”

“No secret. Think of the letters as symbols, each representing a certain sound. For the most part. There are many, many exceptions to the rules in our written language. Of course, we won't worry about them now. I don't want you to feel frustrated before we even begin.”

“I can well handle frustration, Elsabeth. Of all kinds.”

His mouth curved in that private smile of his that always made her wonder at his thoughts. She was suddenly even more aware of his warm body pressed to hers. He tapped two fingers against the cover. “I have chosen this book to begin.”

“Watson's Unabridged Guide to Exo-Horticulture?”
At his look of alarm, she smiled. “The cultivation of plants. Tedious and boring.” More, the text was too tiny and the words far too complex for his first attempt to
phonetically translate letters to speech. “Let's try this one instead.” She replaced the blue volume in his lap with the storybook. The brownish cover was so worn it was rubbed bare at the corners. Tao looked skeptical, and even a little disappointed by the pages, yellowed from generations of use, an old reproduction of the original, carried across the stars from Uhrth.

“You can't judge a book by its cover,” she assured him. “It's a Kurel saying. What's on the inside can't always be determined by what you see on the outside.”

His green eyes flickered with mischief. “Like when you first saw this Tassagon warrior?”

“Yes.” She lifted her face to his. “And like when you first saw this Kurel tutor.”

“You mean the haughty, humorless ghetto dweller who was no less disgusted with my army than she was the manure in the streets?”

She frowned up at him. “Like when I first saw a battle-ax-wielding warmonger with an ego bigger than this entire kingdom.”

“Ouch.” His hand went to his heart. “The lady inflicts a mortal wound.” His brow went up. “Warmonger, I can see. But an ego bigger than the kingdom—you really thought that?”

His expression was so boyish and endearing it made her want to kiss all the hints of doubt from his face.
And then kiss him everywhere else.
Mercy.
She hugged the brown book close. “Haughty and humorless?”

“I judged the book by its cover, clearly.” He searched her face. “How wrong I was.”

“And I,” she admitted.

Emotion played over his face, raw and honest, and she wondered if he saw the same in hers. His mouth was somehow closer now. Or, was it hers that had moved to within inches of his? Close enough to feel his warm breath, tickling her chin.

He reached for her. For a panicked, thrilling moment, she thought he'd draw her into an embrace. She'd have gone willingly, but instead he gently yet firmly removed the storybook from her arms. “No more using books as shields. No more need to be on guard around me.”

“Not even a little on guard?” she asked as disappointment swelled.

His gaze sharpened. He was trying hard to read her intent. After all, he'd been quick to disagree with Kurel descriptions of Uhr-warriors' mindless need for sexual conquest, and had overheard Marina's stark warning—and Elsabeth's reaction to it. Knowing the expectations she'd have of him, he'd be reluctant to steal a kiss, unless he knew for certain he'd be welcome.

How dare he be so…so eager to learn her culture, so hell-bent on saving his sister, so disarmingly humble—

So damned attractive! With her heart pounding, her hands shaking, folded in her lap, she stretched up the last few inches and brushed her lips across his. A taste. His scent filled her nostrils, spicy and exotic. His lips were warm, softer in feel than she'd imagined. Yielding yet firm.

It was the craziest thing she'd ever done, kissing a Tassagon warrior. Kissing a man. Yet, somehow it didn't surprise her that she had. She'd been fighting the bonds holding her in place for so long.

Then, slowly, she moved back far enough to see the bemused expression he wore on his face. She'd surprised him. His shock lasted only a heartbeat or two, replaced quickly with a look of satisfaction that bordered on smug. “That was very nice,” he said. “And far too brief.”

Now that she'd taken such a liberty, she blushed as reality set in. She could feel the heat rising in her neck and cheeks. She wasn't sure if she wanted to die of embarrassment, or bashfulness, or both. “I don't claim any skills in kissing.”

Tao made a soft sound of protest and reached for her hair. “Ah, sweetheart. I meant brief not as a criticism but as a complaint.”

Sweetheart.
The affection in his tone melted her.

He took a few long strands between his fingers, sliding them down to the ends. Her body reacted instantly, awash in tingles. A thought intruded. Tao was a
man accustomed to dancers and camp followers meeting his sexual whims. Was this gentle caress what it seemed? Or was he only inspecting the merchandise before choosing a bed partner, as he must have done many times before? She didn't know.

She wasn't supposed to care. Not at this critical point in her plans. She merely wanted to take a few steps down that road Marina had warned her about.
A road of my own choosing.

“Perhaps, if I teach you to read, you can teach me how to kiss.” Somehow, she'd managed an amazingly light, casual tone.

“Kissing lessons in exchange for reading lessons? Hmm. You are a master trader.” He cradled her face in his hands, oh-so-lightly, oh-so-completely, as if he couldn't choose between studying her upturned face and hauling her close for another kiss. “I confess I've been curious for far too long about what you feel like. And to see if you taste as good as I suspect.”

“Do I?” she whispered.

“Let me confirm.” His thumb stroked her cheekbone, warm and callused. Then, playful, tender, he bent down and lazily tasted his way from one corner of her mouth to the other, the chaste kiss leaving her aching for more.
More what?
More everything. An entire gamut of intimate adventures she'd too long delayed experiencing.

“Yes…quite good,” he said as he kissed his way along.

“Better than sumsala?” she mumbled against his mouth.

“No comparison. Hotter. But without the sting.”

As she started to laugh, he buried his fingers in her hair, and her mouth opened farther under the gentle pressure of his lips, his tongue searching out hers. A shudder coursed through his body as he pressed her close, one big hand cupping the back of her head. The sensation of his caresses coupled with the stroking of his tongue made her so dizzy and breathless it was all she could do to hold on, his hard muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt.

Finally, he broke off the kiss, pausing to soothe her tingling lips with gentle, tasting nibbles. “Lesson one,” he said, moving his lips to her cheek, letting her feel the scrape of his beard.

Her pulse throbbed in every part of her body. “I have a lot to learn,” she whispered.

He touched his lips to hers. “I have a lot to teach.”

I imagine you do.
She blushed all over again, drawing her hands back into her lap as she sat up. “Now it's your turn.”