Torn (12 page)

“If I don’t go, then I’ll draw no plans for you.”

“Fine!” Torn’s eyes flashed with seldom-seen anger. “Then we’ll do it without your help. I’m not about to put you or the rest of us at risk for stupidity.”

“This has nothing to do with your skill as a guard, Honey Wine.” Mahir’s voice sounded soft but stern. “Torn and his spies are elite. There are few of them within our Order. We wouldn’t even use members of our own infantry for this mission.”

She nodded, lowering her eyes to the empty piece of parchment on the table in front of her. What Mahir said made sense. Every military organization had factions specially trained for certain duties.

“Help us now, and when the time comes to bring down the Entertainment, we’ll need as many able warriors as we can find,” Mahir continued. “I promise you’ll have the opportunity to fight with us then if that’s your desire.”

Torn narrowed his eyes at his foster father. “Mahir, I don’t want her endangered.”

“Since when?” She shot Torn a furious look. “We both were in danger while escaping, but the risk seemed to be fine with you then!”

“And you think I won’t carry that guilt to my grave?”

She forced herself not to reveal her elation at his words. Instead, she turned to Mahir and said, “Has he always spoken like the hero in a poorly-written drama?”

Mahir’s blue eyes glistened with humor, but Honey Wine guessed he refrained from smiling out of respect for Torn. “It’s a wonder the two of you ever planned an escape together. The way you fight, one would think you hated each another.”

Torn’s eyes met Honey Wine’s across the table and she immersed herself in those beautiful, familiar blue depths. She thought she’d hated him once, but that was only because from the moment she’d seen him, she must have known how deeply she could fall in love with him if she let herself. Such strong feelings for a man had terrified her, but how did he feel about her? How did he
really
feel?

“Honey Wine, I’m told you once wanted to stop the Entertainment, that you were imprisoned for your belief in freedom. Do you still believe in it? Will you help us?” Mahir asked.

She picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and placed the pointed tip to the parchment. It sounded scratchy as she drew. “I know most of the entrances and exits. There’s an old woman in the arena who knows more, but I have no idea where the arena is located. I was hooded during the ride there.”

Mahir nodded. “Draw everything you remember. Torn, send for the men you’ve chosen to accompany you. We’ll start making plans today.”

Less than an hour later, Rain and Warrant had joined them at the table.

Honey Wine had drawn, in as much detail as she could recall, the entire palace at Sophianna.

“We’ll be in and out quickly.” Rain folded his arms across his chest and stared over her shoulder at the map.

“All we need is one guard from the dungeon,” Warrant said. “No one will know where he disappeared to, and he’ll give us directions to the arena.”

Honey Wine shook her head. “Don’t think it will be easy. The guards in the dungeon have all been hand picked by my sister. They’re devoted to her, and they fear her wrath.”

“Honey Wine is right,” Torn nodded, “but we have our own methods of discovering what we need to know. We’ll take the young guard Timus. From what I observed, he’ll be the easiest to work with.”

Honey Wine felt a pang of concern. She’d known Timus all her life and liked him. She said, “Do you plan on harming him?”

“We don’t want to harm him, Honey Wine,” Mahir assured her. “We just need information.”

Their mission was necessary, and as she remembered how many times Timus had stood by and watched Torn suffer, she felt less concerned about the Knights’ means to and end.

“We’ll wait another couple of weeks so we can plan it to the last detail,” Rain said, “and give Torn’s chest a bit more time to heal. We’ll all need to be at our peak.”

“Thank you for your help, Lady.” Warrant bowed his curly blond head in Honey Wine’s direction. “You’ve done humankind a service.”

“I just hope you succeed in doing what I was imprisoned for,” Honey Wine said.

When they emerged from the library, it was late afternoon.

Torn caught her hand as they walked down the corridor toward the great hall. “Ride with me?”

She looked up at him, raising her emotional shield against the onslaught of tenderness in his eyes.

His palm slid up her arm. “Please?”

“Please?” Her voice was almost mocking. “Ah, I think I like the sound of that.”

He dropped his hand. “This is my own fault. You’ll never believe another word I say.”

“What’s left to say?” She shrugged. “You and your Order have gotten everything you wanted from me. As soon as the Entertainment is ended, I’ll be going.”

“Going where?”

“To start a life, Torn.” She didn’t try to keep the hard edge from her voice.

“Like you belong to this Order, I need to find someplace where I belong. I liked being a guard, and after working in the dungeon, I have healing skills as well.

There’s a world out there for me, and now I have the chance to discover it.”

He looked about to speak, but instead touched her face then let his hand drop as he brushed past her down the hall.

She watched him go, her throat tight with unshed tears, and scolded herself for being stupid.

“Honey Wine!” Rain approached her. “Would you still like a tour of the training field?”

She smiled at the handsome Knight and accepted his arm. “I’d love it.”

Together, they walked to the stable where Rain saddled his chestnut war stallion and offered Honey Wine a sleek white mare. She mounted, pleased with the graceful, spirited horse as they rode out of the fortress. Rain was a talkative, humorous companion, and after they observed some of the Knights training, they rode through the empty meadows behind the fortress. In the distance, she noticed another black-garbed Knight on a blue-black horse galloping at break-neck speed, jumping fallen trees and the remains of old fences.

Rain laughed and shook his head, murmuring, “Someday one of them is going to die. Warrant exercised that black demon while Torn was away. Threw him twice. Nearly broke his ass. . . Forgive me, Lady.” Rain nodded almost sheepishly.

Honey Wine shook her head in dismissal and continued watching the rider, “That’s Torn?”

“Young and wild,” Rain nodded. “Worthy, though. He’ll be named leader after Mahir.”

Torn had caught sight of them and turned his horse in their direction.

Honey Wine’s heart pounded as he approached. He looked so handsome, all grace and power on a lithe black stallion.

He edged his lathered horse alongside Honey Wine’s mare and stared at her through locks of damp, windblown hair. “I didn’t think you were in the mood for riding.”

She shrugged and smiled in Rain’s direction. “I changed my mind.”

Torn glanced at them. “I see.”

“Actually, I have training to attend to.” Rain bowed from the neck toward Honey Wine. “If I might leave you in Torn’s company?”

“I think I can live with it.” She smiled at Rain. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

“It’s been my pleasure.” His eyes danced as he turned his mount back to the fortress.

“We can go back,” Torn said. “I know you’d rather be with anyone but me.”

“Not true,” she said. “I prefer you to my sister any day.”

He didn’t reply, but cast her a glance that conveyed exactly what he thought of her humor.

“You like him?” Torn nodded in the direction of Rain’s retreating form.

“He’s very nice.”

Torn lifted a thick black brow as his horse plodded alongside hers.

Halfway back to the fortress, he stopped.

“Something wrong?” she asked coolly.

“No.”

Her eyes bore into his.

“Yes.” He shook his head. “I can’t say. I’ve been selfish enough when it comes to you.”

Honey Wine sighed. “Torn, I’m not thrilled that I didn’t know the truth about your mission before we escaped, but I do understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I probably would have done the same if I’d been you. I respected you before, but I admire you even more now. Not many people would have willingly risked themselves as you did. Not many people could have endured the dungeon, the arena, and The Lady and not given in.”

“Not many people would have had someone like you supporting them,” he said.

As she looked into his eyes, she felt her control slipping. She longed to feel his arms around her and his mouth against hers.

“We should go back,” she whispered, kicking her horse to a walk.

“I love you.”

Honey Wine stopped breathing at his words. Her hands trembled on the reins as she tugged the mare to a stop. She swallowed audibly and collected herself before turning to him.

His dark blue eyes fixed on her, his expression uncharacteristically tense, as if he feared her response.

“There’s really nothing left for me to tell you,” she said. “No more information. Nothing I’m keeping. Nothing I’ve lied about. You don’t have to continue playing this game with me, Torn.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not playing any game, Honey Wine. I know you want to find a new life. I know you deserve one, but I can’t help wishing that you want me to be part of your life. You said I belong to the Order, and I do. I’m loyal to it, but I’m in love with you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re not in love with me, Torn. I was kind to you during your imprisonment. It’s common for victims to develop feelings for jailers who display kindness.”

“I’m not a fool!” he snapped. “I know the difference between being grateful and being in love. I want to know if you can still feel anything for me at all after learning what I did.”

She hesitated. Should she tell him the truth? Should she trust him?

He nodded, his eyes lowering slowly until they fixed on the windblown forelock between his horse’s ears. “You don’t have to say anything. I just had to tell you how I felt.”

“I do care for you,” she murmured.

His eyes darted to hers. He dismounted and took her hand. “As a friend or as something more?”

“As a friend.” She gave a snort of laugher. She’d never dreamed of doing with a friend half of the things she’d done with him. She stared at their entwined fingers then slipped from the horse and into his arms, whispering into his ear, “As both.”

His grip tightened on her so her cheek pressed against the damp silk of his tunic. Hot from riding, his body smelled of clean sweat, summer breeze, leather, and horse. She felt his heart thrumming steadily against her ear and enjoyed the caress of his gloved hands on her back.

After a moment, he tilted her chin upward and kissed her mouth. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of his lips, in the moist, tender strokes of his tongue. She reached up, and loosened his hair from the strip of leather binding it at his nape and threaded her fingers through the silky black waves.

As the kiss broke, he sank to one knee on the grass in front of her, one of her hands swallowed by his large, gloved ones.

His eyes bore into hers as he said, “Marry me, Honey Wine?”

Her heart throbbed, and she knew he felt her hand trembling. Marry him?

Should she? Could she?

She cleared her throat and asked calmly, “When?”

“Tonight.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Not soon enough?” The slightest smile played around his adorable mouth.

“No.” She shrugged. “Tonight’s good.”

He laughed, and before she knew what was happening, he’d stood, caught her by the waist, and tossed her up into his arms.

She giggled, clutching his neck. As he lowered her to her feet and kissed her, she knew for the first time in her life where she truly belonged.

Mahir was authorized to perform weddings within the fortress, and he immediately gave his consent to marry Honey Wine and Torn that evening.

Though he didn’t speak of it openly, she sensed genuine gladness as he embraced them both.

“You should find Blaze,” Mahir told Torn before they left his library for the second time that day. “He returned this morning from a settlement outside the Zaltanian border. The war in the south is causing heavy casualties and more healers are needed.”

Torn and Honey Wine walked hand-in-hand down the corridor toward the great hall, and she asked, “Who’s Blaze? Rain mentioned him earlier as well.”

“Blaze is good friend. I’ve known him all my life. He’s lived with the Order since he was five. Good man. Once you get used to him, you’ll like him.”

“Get used to him?” Honey Wine lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes, he’s a bit –”

“I sense it’s you and not an apparition.” A tall man with shoulder-length, unkempt auburn hair, and beard called to them from the end of the corridor.

Honey Wine noted he wore the traditional black uniform of the Order, except a wide, olive-green sash swathed his narrow waist and dangled to the end of his tunic.

“Blaze.” Torn smiled as the man crossed the hall in several long strides and jerked Torn into a rough embrace. He was close enough for Honey Wine to note the details of his appearance. Unlike Torn’s straight, slightly upturned nose, Blaze’s was large and might have been his most prominent feature had it not been for wide eyes of such a pale blue that they shone like opals against his tanned skin. His mouth beneath the beard was finely drawn, the upper lip forming a perfect, delicate V.

Blaze drew back, one hand still clasping Torn’s shoulder while he wagged a finger at Honey Wine’s husband-to-be. “One month I searched for you. ‘He’s in the land of the raven-haired queen,’ they said. There I went and was told you’d never been seen. How chastised I was when I returned home. Did I think the spy needed a keeper? He’s a leader of men!”

Torn’s broad smile reflected some of the confusion she felt at Blaze’s strange speech, though when he replied to his friend, she sensed he was well accustomed to Blaze’s nature. “Thank you for looking, Blaze.”