Untouchable (12 page)

Alix was now more intrigued than horrified. “That’s very interesting. Can you wish the blue from our skin?”

Mali rolled her eyes in a very adult manner. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It was just an idea,” Alix muttered.

Mali gave her attention to Sanura. “There is a plant which grows nearby. It will remove the stain from your skin.”

“And his?” Sanura asked.

“No,” Mali said petulantly. “He wanted to kill me. He doesn’t like me. I think he should remain blue.”

“He’s very sorry, now,” Sanura said.

“I don’t think he’s sorry at all,” Mali said with a pout. “He has not
said
that he’s sorry, and he doesn’t
look
sorry.”

“Alix, apologize,” Sanura ordered.

“I will not. She’s a demon’s offspring, and it is my duty...”

“Fine,” Sanura said. “Remain blue.” She stood and grasped Mali’s hand in her own. The child looked at those clasped hands curiously, and Sanura realized that no one had ever walked hand in hand with this child before. Her own mother was as afraid as she was protective. Donia needed as much tutoring as Mali. Perhaps more.

They walked toward the door, and with a careless flick of her free hand, Mali opened it. Afternoon sunlight spilled across the floor.

Behind them, Alix groaned. “All right,” he said, his boot heels clicking on the wooden floor of the small cottage. “I’m sorry. I could never kill a child. The drawing of my sword was simply a reaction to the disclosure of your true parentage. It was a shocking revelation.”

They walked out of the cottage and toward the woods which lay in the opposite direction from which they’d come. “You would not have killed me in any case,” Mali said calmly.

“Of course not,” he said, very convincingly.

“I’m not at all easy to kill,” she explained, and she glanced over her shoulder to look squarely at Alix. “If you don’t believe me, ask Mother.”

THE
plant the little girl led them to appeared, at first glance, to be ordinary enough. It grew close to the ground and was mostly hidden beneath the larger leaves of other low-lying plants, but Mali knew exactly where to look. She dropped down and broke off a thick leaf, and when she did so, a thick, pale green substance oozed from the plant’s broken edge.

Mali turned to Sanura first, gently placing the torn side of the thick leaf on one blue arm. Sanura jumped when the gooey substance met her skin, and Alix instinctively leaned forward, ready to lunge and separate the two females. The plant wasn’t helping Sanura, it was
hurting
her.

Sanura laughed before he could do more than tilt his body in her direction. “It’s much colder than I expected it would be.”

Alix settled back, but not without noticing that Mali looked his way and smiled mischievously.

A mischievous half-demon child.

There were many rumors in Columbyana about the possibility that the Isen Demon’s offspring had survived, even though the demon itself had lost the war and had been forever buried. Alix knew of one such child with certainty. Linara was being raised by Sophie Fyne Varden, who was a powerful witch in her own right. Last he’d heard, Linara was showing signs of developing her own gifts—or curses—but she was not at all mischievous or dangerous.

Mali’s existence gave greater credence to the argument that many such children survived. He now knew of two half-demon children who lived among them. Were there more? More rightly the question should be, how many more? They would all be five or six years old, not much of a threat at first glance, but what would happen in ten or fifteen years, as they grew to adulthood? Some of them would perhaps be like Linara, and receive the proper training to help them choose the right path. But what of the others, the ones who had been hidden away from the world as Mali had been hidden?

No. She’s just a child.

We’re nothing alike.

Alix pushed the dark thoughts down and turned his attention to the transformation taking place before him. Together Mali and Sanura worked the gel from the thick leaves over her exposed skin, and the blue disappeared. Beneath the blue paint Sanura’s skin was golden and flawless, smooth and warm. He wanted to reach out and touch the natural-toned flesh which was revealed, to run his fingers against every inch as it was uncovered.

The necessary plants were small but abundant, and when they had taken a few leaves from one, they moved on to another, so as not to kill the plant. Mali had no problem finding the vegetation, no matter how well the thick leaves were hidden.

Alix wanted to help with the chore he watched so closely, but knew his assistance in this endeavor would not be welcomed, not by the demon child Mali and not by Sanuraherself. He tried to tell himself that he wished only to assist in order to speed along the process, but that was a blatant lie. He wanted to be close to her again, to touch her in any way—innocent or not so innocent. As if he could run his hands over Sanura’s body and not become aroused all over again. As if he could touch her and not have her.

Sanura sat on the ground, the blond child leaning over her. Mali ran a newly broken leaf over Sanura’s long and slender blue throat. Sanura tipped her head back to allow the child better access. The substance from the leaf’s core dissolved and then wiped away the blue paint, stripping away that which had protected Sanura from the touch of those men who were not allowed the honor.

He had touched her. No, no, the other part of himself had done the forbidden touching. If not, he never would’ve dared to start that which he had gladly finished just that morning, no matter how strongly he was drawn to her, no matter how much he craved her. He had trained himself to be better than his baser instincts, to ignore the calls within him which spoke of need and darkness. Nothing had ever been as difficult as ignoring the call to Sanura.

When all of Sanura’s exposed skin was devoid of the blue, the two females turned to Alix. Two women, one fully grown and one a child, both of them powerful, both of them seeing too much. Mali broke off a new piece of the plant and threw it to him. More rightly, she threw it
at
him. Alix caught the surprisingly heavy leaf in one hand.

“It wouldn’t be wise for me to get too close to you, splintered man,” the girl said. “You’ll have to manage without me.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“No,” Mali said easily, “but
he
will, if he gets the chance.”

Alix did not protest that there was no
he
, as he ran the leaf across his arm and watched the blue fade away. He had fought, denied, and suppressed that other all his life, and now two females he barely knew saw through him with surprising ease. Splintered man, the little girl called him. How could he argue with that?

The substance inside the thick leaf was indeed much colder than he had imagined it would be. Still, it would take more than a bit of chill to make him squeal as Sanura had. Alix was nothing if not controlled. The plant’s inner substance removed the blue and then seeped into the skin, leaving very little residue behind. It was not magic, exactly, but came very close.

Sanura took another piece of the leaf and began to help. She removed the markings from places he could not see or reach properly; she removed small bits of blue he missed in his haste. The back of his neck, a place on his shoulder, beneath his ear, she gave them all her attention. She even ran a bit of leaf across his nose, making sure he’d removed all the blue there. He watched her closely as she tended to him.

He had expected that without the blue paint she would look ordinary, but she did not. She was beautiful, and he wanted her again. She was so close he could feel her body heat, he was assailed by her scent, and he was reminded of that afternoon by the stream, when she had come so close to him but had not touched. She was as enticing now; more so, since he knew what she felt like, how she laughed, how she gasped when she reached orgasm. He thought of that isolated farm, he thought of the life she would never settle for...the life he could never have. His hands itched to touch her, but he did not. Mali watched closely, and Sanura was still not his to take.

When all their exposed skin was cleaned of the blue, they broke off a few pieces of the plant with which to finish the job at a later time—when Mali was not watching. For now, the job they had done was sufficient. They could walk among others without drawing attention to themselves.

Well, almost. He looked Sanura up and down, taking in the skimpy and foreign outfit, the gold and jangling girdle at her hips, the bangles at her wrists, the anklet adorning a shapely ankle. There would be no more music, and he already mourned the loss.

“Mali,” he said calmly, “Does your mother have a dress she’d like to sell?”

IT
was much later than they’d intended when they left the cottage. Sanura fidgeted and pulled at the collar of the uncomfortable dress Donia had sold her. The fabric was heavy and it itched. She was covered from neck to foot. The boots were a nice change from the torn slippers, as they protected her feet from the hard and often rocky ground, but the rest of the outfit was horrendous.

And oddly enough, she felt naked. More covered than she had ever been, she felt horribly exposed.

The blue paint had protected her all of her adult life. It kept her apart. It screamed
don’t touch
to all those who saw her. Now her skin was like everyone else’s, and there was nothing to protect her. Nothing but Alix and Trystan.

“We will come back for Mali when we can, won’t we?” Sanura asked, her eyes on Alix’s back. She rather hated watching his back. It was his eyes which revealed so much, his eyes which told her what part of him was in control.

“We will fetch Mali and Donia when the time is right,” Alix said.

“Of course,” Sanura whispered, agreeing even though she knew Alix was wrong. Donia did love her daughter, but she would be very glad to see Mali in someone else’s care. Permanently. The young woman longed for a husband and other children, she longed to have friends again, but did not dare to chase that dream while Mali was a part of her life. Mali would flourish away from her mother, she would do well away from a woman who was afraid of her. One would not think love and fear could live together in one heart, but they did.

Sanura and Alix walked in the direction of the closest village, which was half a day away, according to Donia. They would ride part of the way, but most of the time they would walk. The horse could not carry two riders endlessly, and as Alix often pointed out, they might find themselvesin a circumstance where they’d need the horse to be well rested and ready to run.

Once again they would spend the night on the ground. If it was cool tonight, as it had been last night and probably would be again, they would keep one another warm. She did not think the night would end as last night had, however. Alix was stronger than Trystan at the moment, and though he wanted her, he was staunchly opposed to taking that which was not his to take.

Noble to a fault, the prince was.

Trystan was not at all noble. He took what he wanted without concern for others, without thinking. He was a slave to his impulses, just as Alix was a slave to his rules. For many years, the darker side had slept, but now that he had tasted freedom, he would not rest so easily, he would never sleep. Trystan would fight for control. So would Alix. Who would win? Who would be sent into the depths to live in darkness, and who would live?

It was unthinkable that Alix, a good man, might lose this battle, but Sanura could not say with any certainty that he would prevail.

They traveled for quite a while before Alix chose a proper camp for the night. A flat section of ground was protected from the wind on two sides by massive rock walls. A gentle creek bubbled nearby. No one could approach without being seen.

For a while after they’d stopped, Alix gave his attention to the horse. He brushed the animal and spoke to it in hushed tones, checked the hooves for damage and pebbles, and fed the animal a handful of the oats Donia had provided. Thanks to Donia, this part of the journey was much more pleasant than the first part had been. They had a blanket, a small sack of food, and a tin cup with which to catch and drink the water they found along the way.

Nice as those luxuries were, Sanura and Alix were still wanted for murdering the princess—and Alix continued to battle his own demons.

It was well dark before he joined her. He started a small fire—for warmth, as their bread and fruit needed no cooking—and they ate in silence. They had pieces of the plant which would remove the blue, and should perhaps see to the task of removing what they had missed earlier, but that would mean undressing and tending to their most private body parts. Her breasts and buttocks, his penis and fine behind. Given the tension in their camp, perhaps that chore should wait.

Then again, perhaps it should not. Never before had she been concerned with what she wanted, what she desired.

Alix was bothered; she caught that much from him as she watched him eat. Of course he had a right to be worried, given all that had happened of late, but this felt like a new worry. She could not tell what that worry was until he looked at her and asked abruptly, “What if there is a baby?”

Sanura blinked, and she immediately dismissed all thoughts of seducing him on this night. He could not know that his question hurt, that he had found and irritated her deepest heartbreak. “There is not.”

“How can you be certain?” he snapped. “Do you take a potion of some sort? Is a part of your magic the control of your childbearing abilities? Was it simply the wrong time for you to . . .”

“I cannot have children,” she interrupted to end his questioning.

He seemed deflated but also relieved, and he was confused by the warring responses within him. “I did not know,” he said softly.

“The women of the Agnese are created to give pleasure, and to be in a constant state of pregnancy would be inconvenient for those who possess us.” A flare of anger rose within her, even as she kept her voice even and calm. “Most men who are gifted with one such as I do not wish to be bothered with bastards or the distended bellies of their lovers or the squalling of babes when they wish only for their own desires to be fulfilled. It is the males of the Agnese, my brothers and those like them, who assure that the bloodline continues. They marry outsiders who become mothers to the gifted ones, like me, and to sons who will ultimately insure our survival. The females born Agnese are all as I am, owned by others, gifted and barren.”

Alix either saw or heard her pain. “I’m sorry.”

She had never before complained about her childless state. What purpose would such complaints serve? Any sacrifices she had been called upon to make were offset by the gifts which were hers to share. She was a woman of the Agnese, and other women envied her. They wished to be like her—no, they wished to
be
her. Still, on this night when it seemed that in this new world all that she was, was not good enough, when she was trapped in a place where she did not belong, where she was despised and distrusted, what had been taken from her seemed more egregious than ever.

“When I was fifteen, just before my training began, I was taken to a special and isolated encampment and given a concoction which sent me into spasms of pain for five days and five nights.” She could still remember the sharp anguish, the way she had gripped her abdomen and shouted for her mother. The pain had continued. Her mother had not come. “I cried. For two days I thought I was going to die. For the next three days I wished to die, for the pain was like a knife ripping through my insides, day and night. That’s why the camp designed for this purpose was so far away from everyone and everything else, you see, so no one else would be bothered or frightened by the screams of girls in agony.” Remembering, she could easily cry for what had been lost, but she did not. “In the end, all that died was my womb, as was intended. I do not bleed as other women bleed, I do not worry about catching any man’s child, and you, Prince Alixandyr, do not have to worry that I might present you with an inconvenient bastard in nine months’ time simply because the part of you which you cannot control took what you will not.”