The Reawakened (21 page)

She breathed a sigh of wonder. “It’s true, then.” She cupped her hands over her belly and gave a sad smile. “Was I happy when I found out?”

“Very happy.” Sura went to the Wolf but stopped short of touching her. “So was Dravek.”

Kara sighed with her lower lip out, blowing her hair from her face. “I wish I could have that moment back.” Her brows pinched together. “But what if I can’t? What if my feelings are tied to that time and place?”

“You were destined to love him,” Etarek said. “How else can you explain something so unlikely?”

Kara shook her head sadly. “Love is an accident, not destiny. You’ll understand when you’re my age,” she added, as if she were fifty-two instead of twenty-two. “I probably did love Dravek, though it doesn’t seem very easy.”

Sura gazed into the campfire’s dying flames, and wished that were true.

Dravek lay on his back, watching clouds obscure the stars. It reminded him of how the light had disappeared from Kara’s face as the memories slipped away from her. She’d looked so vacant. Lost. Alone.

But nothing in her mind changed the fact of the child in her womb. Whether she ever wanted him in her bed again, he would stay in her life.

Then there was Sura, who occupied his thoughts, especially as he lay awake at night, hearing how thoroughly Etarek pleased her. She sounded so happy, and yet on the rare occasions when Dravek met her eyes, he saw an unendurable sadness lurking within. He wanted to take that pain away, though he knew he would make it worse. Destruction seemed to be his only skill.

Something nudged his foot. He pulled down the blanket to see a cloaked figure standing over him.

“Are you crazy or just stupid?” Sura hissed. “Come inside.”

“I can’t.”

“Then you’re crazy
and
stupid.” She yanked the blanket off him. The rain drove into his face so hard he couldn’t see. To avoid drowning, he stood and followed her down the trail and into the tent.

“The right side’s leaking.” She tossed him his pack. “Get changed over there where you won’t drip on the dry part. Good night.”

Dravek heard her lie down on the far side with a grunt. He peeled off his wet clothes, shivering even in the warm night air. As he rubbed himself dry, he glanced over his shoulder at Sura, though he couldn’t see her in the near-total darkness.

Her scent mingled with his own and Kara’s, and the blanket wrapped around her smelled like Etarek. To his nose, even more sensitive in his second phase, it was as if all four of them were in the tent.

Without meaning to, he cleared his throat.

“I’ve already seen you naked,” she said. “I was at your wedding, remember?”

Her sardonic tone eased his tension. “Then what’s the harm in looking now?”

He heard her feet fidget under the blanket. “It’s too dark.”

“And I’m already dressed, anyway.”

She laughed. “You are not.”

“Outwitted me again.” He grabbed a dry set of clothes from his pack.

“A salamander could outwit you.”

He said nothing as he dressed, then stretched out on his back beside her. Water seeped over the left half of his shirt, so he scooted closer to Sura.

“I told you it was wet.” She inched forward against the tent wall to give him more room.

He lay on his side facing away from her. Her back pressed against him, and her heat radiated through the blanket and their thin layers of clothes. He sighed and draped an arm over his face, as if that would fight off the images of skin and sweat. The rain pounded on the tent roof.

“What did it feel like,” she said, “when you made her forget?”

He didn’t want to remember that moment. “It felt like fire.”

“I know you’d never hurt her on purpose.” She drew in another breath, as if to utter another sentence that began with, “But…”

He couldn’t bear the silence of her doubt. “I’d do anything to take it back.”

“I had a friend who lost her memory falling out of a tree. One of the Otters treated her concussion, and she was fine a few days later.”

“Kara’s memories are burned. I don’t think they can be recovered, any more than a log can be rebuilt from its ashes.” He covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe I did that to her. I don’t deserve her love.”

“But loving you is part of who she is.”

His throat tightened. “Not anymore. Now I’m back to being her best friend’s obnoxious little brother.”

“If that was how she saw you, how’d she fall in love with you in the first place? Snake seduction magic?”

He hesitated. It was hard to explain without dishonoring Kara.

“No magic, just meloxa,” he said. “And no, I didn’t try to get her drunk. There was a party midwinter—celebrating a birth, I think. We shared a few dances, then she took me to bed. I think she wanted to prove she could resist me a second time.”

“Despite your famous tongue.”

From her voice he could almost see the mocking smile curve Sura’s lips. He wiped his cheek as it heated with embarrassment.

“Anyway, her plan didn’t work. She became despondent or furious when I’d so much as look at another woman.” He frowned. “She didn’t mind the men, I suppose because they couldn’t give me children—they couldn’t trap me the way she wanted to. That was her word,
trap.
” His voice hardened. “Like I was another wild animal for her to hunt.”

“Why would you agree to be trapped?”

“I loved her. I hated seeing her unhappy.” He gathered the courage to admit the full truth. “And I loved the way she craved me. I grew addicted to the need in her eyes, even as it diminished her. One night in the middle of making love, she gave me an ultimatum—marry her or she’d leave me that moment.”

“That’s not fair. And I bet she was bluffing.”

“I almost said no. There was a moment when I saw it all so clearly. That what we both needed most was to get away from each other.”

Sura turned to face him. “What stopped you?”

He hesitated, wondering if she could understand. “I imagined the look on Kara’s face if I said, ‘yes,’ and how she would look if I said, ‘no.’ Seeing her smile, knowing I was the cause, made me feel like less of a monster.”

“Why would you think you’re a monster?”

He shifted onto his back and turned his face toward her. “My father raped my mother.” His mouth twitched after he said it, as if it wanted to take back the words. “I was made from violence and pain, from the power of several men over one woman. She almost died giving birth to me, and then took her own life because I was a constant reminder of what had happened to her.”

“None of that is your fault.” She lifted her hand as if to touch him, then pulled it back.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he whispered.

“No.”

Her voice trembled, but he didn’t smell fear, and her hands were as warm as ever, lying on the blanket between them, an inch from his chest. His heightened Snake senses threatened to drown him in his awareness of her heat.

“Sura…”

Her breath caught, and he felt her skin chill. The passion in his voice had made her afraid—and not of his forgetting powers.

“Yes?”

He brushed his warm hand against her cold one. “I’ve never wanted to not hurt someone as much as I want to not hurt you.”

It was as close as he could come to a declaration of love. He could never have her, no matter what she felt, no matter what happened to his marriage. They were Snake and always would be.

Sura wove her fingers around his, and the heat under their skin flared. “What do we do?” She was whispering now as the rain turned to a drizzle.

“I don’t know.” Holding his breath, he lifted her hand to kiss her palm.

She let out a choked cry, then seized the front of his shirt and pressed her forehead to his. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, “be with you and not be with you. It makes me hate myself.”

“No.” His throat tried to cut off the words. “Hate me instead.” He brushed his lips over her cheek, feeling her jaw move as her mouth opened. He wanted to cover it with his own, but resisted, moving to kiss her fluttering lashes, then her forehead.

Sura stroked her smooth cheek against his stubbled one, breathing him in. The warm, rich scent of her desire drenched his mind, and his hands shook with the effort not to caress her body.

The rain strengthened into a roar, and he pulled Sura into a tight embrace. They clutched at each other, and for a moment he felt relief flow through him like a cold drink of water. Then the press of her against him became agony, and he nearly bit his tongue in half to suppress a groan of longing.

“I wish I could make us forget who we are,” he said. “Then we could find a place where there’s nothing between us.”

She pulled back to look at him, her nose almost touching his.

“Could we do that?” Her eyes turned sad. “Run away and leave everything and everyone we know? Everyone who needs us?”

He didn’t want to think about all the others, not now when they were so close and she smelled so good. “I need you.”

He lifted her chin to take her mouth, taste her tongue, fill himself with her wetness. Already he could feel her lips swollen with the heat of desire.

The rain stopped. Sura and Dravek froze, their breath mingling in each other’s mouths, which held their place a fraction of an inch apart.

“We can’t do this,” she whispered.

He forced himself to let her go, and Sura eased herself out of his embrace. His body mourned the loss of her, as if she were the sole source of warmth in the world. She turned away.

He drew the blanket up to cover her shoulders, trying not to notice that they were trembling, like his hands. “I’ll sleep outside now that the rain’s stopped.”

“The ground is wet.”

“And cold. It’ll help.”

She didn’t reply, only curled her knees to her chest as if doubled in pain.

Once outside, he lay on the damp ground and let it steal his body’s unbearable heat. It seemed as if his desire for Sura could set the sea on fire.

Though he ached to release himself, he vowed to store this feeling deep inside. One day, as his power grew, it would rain fury on his father’s people like hail.

He would burn them all.

“State your name, Animal, home and business,” the taller and older of the Bears said. “Now.”

Kara introduced them, then added, “We’re here to see Vara, and to deliver pigeons.”

“And meloxa,” Dravek said.

The four men jerked their heads to look his way. “How much meloxa?” said the Bear who had spoken before.

“Enough to go around.” Etarek unfastened a flask from the mule’s pack and tossed it to him. The Bear caught it deftly in one large hand, then unscrewed the cap and took a cautious whiff. He smiled.

“I’m Krios. Go on in.” He nodded at the younger Bear. “Take the Snakes to Vara, then show the others where they can get tents.”

“Wait.” Sura looked at Krios. “Has there been any word from Asermos about Rhia and Mali?”

“Rhia escaped. She’s not here, though.” He shook his head. “Last we heard, Mali was still in prison.”

Etarek touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She tried to give him a grateful smile, but her feelings were tied in a knot. At least Rhia had broken free, which meant Lycas was safer. But her heart twisted at the thought of her mother in chains, and she resolved to continue her quest to reach the second phase. With a mentor here in Tiros to guide her in her new magic, she would pose less of a danger to others than Dravek had. Or so she hoped.

They entered the village between the watchtowers. Sura forced her gaze to remain forward and resisted the temptation to look up. In Asermos, the soldiers preferred it that way.

They passed rows of tents and poorly constructed shanties on the outskirts of town. Refugees, no doubt. She kept her breath shallow to minimize the smell of squalor. At least they have their freedom, she reminded herself.

They came to a small white stone house near the center of town. The curtains in the sole window were drawn, though the sun hadn’t set.

“Vara’s house.” The Bear pointed to the wooden door. “Wait until I leave before you go in.” He hurried off, beckoning Kara and Etarek to follow him.

Dravek and Sura stepped onto the narrow porch stairs. He knocked on the door, and when he lowered his arm, their knuckles bumped. Her pulse leaped at the brief touch. One of his fingers reached out and brushed her palm.

The door opened, and a tall woman stared down at them. Her long blond braid was spliced with gray strands, but her face was young and striking, with full lips and blazing dark eyes. When Sura opened her mouth to introduce herself, the woman held up a hand to silence her.

She examined them for a long moment, lingering on the space between their bodies.

“You are Snakes?” the woman whispered. They nodded. Her gaze went blank and distant for a long moment. Then deep frown lines creased her forehead. “Oh.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is awful. Please come in. I am Vara.”

They shared a look of trepidation, then stepped over the threshold. Vara reached quickly behind them to shut the door.

The dim front room appeared to be a kitchen, but Vara led them to another door without offering so much as a drink, which Sura’s dry tongue and throat resented.

Beyond the door was total blackness. Sura strained to adjust her eyes to the windowless room. Goose bumps rose on her arms at the rush of cool, clammy air.

“Hurry.” Vara bustled past them, disappearing. She patted a wooden surface, which Sura assumed was a table.

After banging her knee on the chair, Sura sat next to Dravek. In the dark, she felt acutely aware of his presence.

“How do you see in here?” he asked Vara.

“It’s my home,” she said in a low voice. “I know every inch. And I see better without light since I entered the third phase.” She sank into a chair across the table. “Sura, I’ve been expecting you. The Kalindon message about your mother mentioned you were a Snake. And, Dravek, what’s taken you so long to come to me? Have you been training on your own?”

“With Snake’s guidance, yes.”

“Look where it’s gotten you.” She sighed. “Touch each other again.”

Sura put her hands in her lap. “Why?”

“Take his hand. Now, please.”

Sura heard his skin slide across the surface of the table. Dreading the result, she moved her palm over his. Their fingers intertwined.

Vara let out a heavy breath. “As I feared. There is tremendous heat between you.”

They yanked their hands apart.

“So?” Dravek’s voice shook. “It’s warm out, and we’ve been walking all day.”

“Your bodies generate more heat than others, so I guessed you were Snakes even outside. In here I see more clearly, because my home is dark and cold.”

“See what?” Dravek asked her.

“Heat, as shades of gray light. The closer to white, the hotter. It’s a Snake’s third-phase power. You two didn’t know that?” When they didn’t reply, she gave a harsh snort. “This Descendant occupation keeps our young so ignorant. When I was your age, we worked with our mentors from the day after our Bestowing, no matter how far we had to travel.”

“What did you mean about what was between us?” Sura asked.

“I see emotional heat, as well as physical. It’s how I wipe memories without destroying the personality of their carrier. My mind makes an emotional map of sorts. I try to maintain the integrity of that map.” Her voice angled toward Dravek. “I’ll teach you how to do this before you hurt someone.”

Sura squirmed in her seat.
Too late.

“As I was about to say.” The Snake woman’s voice softened and sobered. “The heat dances between you, flaring white when you touch.”

“Is that not normal for Snakes?” Sura asked her.

“With Snakes, there’s no such thing as normal.” A smile seemed to curve her words. “However—” her voice came stern again “—the pattern I see between you is that of new lovers.”

“No!” they said simultaneously.

“Unrequited lovers, then.”

Shame flooded Sura, and she couldn’t speak.

“Hmm.” Vara rapped her fingernails on the table. “I see from your blushes that I’m correct. I’m relieved you haven’t given into this temptation.”

“I’m married,” Dravek said.

“And I have a mate, of sorts,” Sura added. “Besides, it’s forbidden for Spirit-siblings to be together that way. It’s taboo to even think about it.”

“Why?” Vara asked calmly.

Sura recited the rationale. “So we can work together without distraction. So our desire doesn’t twist the wisdom of our Aspect and pervert our magic.”

“Dravek, what happens when you and Sura work together?”

He shifted in his seat. “We start fires.”

“You mean, you reignite fires.”

He cleared his throat. “We
start
them. There was a cold torch—”

“You’re sure it was cold?” Vara’s voice shot from across the table.

“I’m sure,” he said in a hard voice. “It just happened.”

“Sura, do you know why it happened?”

Dravek spoke up again. “It wasn’t her fault—”

“I. Asked. Her.”

Sura rubbed her hands together in her lap. If they wanted help, they had to tell the truth.

“We were—” She drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “We were discussing our feelings.” No, that wasn’t the
entire
truth. Another deep breath. “We described what it would be like to make love.”

“To each other.”

“Yes.” Sura averted her gaze from Vara, though she couldn’t see her.

“Don’t be embarrassed. A Snake should always speak frankly in matters of sex. Our Spirit’s power resides in it.” Her voice flattened. “Though usually we stoke our desire without fantasizing about our Spirit-siblings.”

“Should we be separated?” Sura asked.

Vara spoke urgently. “It’s too late. Your longing would only increase. You’d be more dangerous than ever.”

“Have we done something wrong?” Dravek asked her.

“Feelings aren’t right or wrong. Only you know in your hearts whether your actions have been just.”

“I wiped out almost a year of my wife’s memory,” Dravek snapped. “I’ll hazard a crazy guess that that was wrong.”

She was silent for a moment. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“No.” He gave an abrasive sigh. “But I was angry with her. I’ve been lashing out since we got married last month.” He took a couple of short, uneven breaths. “I hated her for not being Sura.”

A dizzy heat rushed over Sura’s scalp, as if her head had been doused in hot water.

Vara spoke calmly. “Your wife no longer remembers your vows.”

“She doesn’t even remember falling in love. She has nothing but disgust for me.”

“So.” Vara made a self-satisfied noise in her throat. “You feel guilty for getting what you want.”

“It’s not what I want!” Dravek said. “I never meant to hurt her.” Pain shot through his voice. “I stole a year of her life. I can never make that up to her.”

“You can start by letting her go.”

He hissed in a breath. “She’s pregnant.”

“I know. I feel the heat of your second-phase power.”

Sura realized she could feel it, too. She’d thought it was only the increase in their desire for each other that had sparked a larger flame.

“What’s the point of this power,” Dravek asked, “if all it does is hurt people?”

“After a great trauma,” Vara replied, “forgetting can save one’s sanity.”

“I know how memories can hurt.” His voice took on an edge, and Sura knew he was thinking of his mother. “But they’re part of who we are.”

“I’d forget if I could.” Sura cleared her throat and forced her voice to steady. “I’d forget the way pieces of Mathias’s charred flesh stuck to his bones when we took him out of his house. I’d forget the way his skeleton crumbled when we wrapped him in the burial shroud. Most of all, I’d forget the smell.”

No one spoke for several moments. Finally Vara said, “I can help with that if you want.”

She closed her eyes. “More than anything.”

“But back to the matter of you two,” Vara said. “Have you had dreams or visions about each other? Sura?”

Sura knew from Vara’s tone that her own cheeks were flushed. She was glad the room was dark so she wouldn’t have to watch Dravek’s reaction.

She closed her eyes as she began. She told them the dream of the flames, the one she’d had the first night of their trip, right before she’d made love with Etarek. She described her and Dravek’s naked bodies pressed against the pole, their wrists bound by the black snake. Her voice threatened to break when she reached the part where it all vanished upon their love’s consummation.

“What does that mean?” Dravek asked Vara in a whisper.

She drummed her nails on the table in a way Sura was already tiring of. “I won’t deny it troubles me. I’ll consult with a Swan to be sure about the interpretation, but my feeling is that if you give in to your lust, you’ll lose the fire. You may even cause Snake to leave you both for breaking the taboo.”

“Forever?” Sura said.

“I don’t know. But for the sake of your power, for the sake of all the good it can do for our people, you can never succumb to this temptation.”

Dravek spoke in a hostile tone. “So Snake gave us these desires so we could burn our enemies, but She’ll punish us for acting on them?”

“I’m sorry.” Vara’s voice softened. “I know the force of a Snake’s passion. It rips us apart sometimes.”

“All the time,” Sura whispered.

“If you choose to separate to ease your pain, I’ll train you individually.” She reached across the table and took their hands. “But if you accept this challenge and hone your powers together, you could give our people new hope.”

Sura felt part of her crumble inside, and she wanted to pull away. She’d already been asked to bear a child so that her parents and Etarek’s could gain power. Now she was expected to put herself through the agony of routinely touching a man she loved but could never have.
It’s not fair.

But this was the path that had been laid for her. For others, the path led to death in battle or years of imprisonment. She shouldn’t complain.

She let go of Vara’s hand. “We’ll give you our decision tomorrow.”