Untouchable (17 page)

Eventually he sat beside the fire and ate a handful of spring berries he had gathered. Then he uncapped the waterskin, which hung from his belt. All afternoon they had pressed forward without stopping for food or water, and Sanura found herself horribly thirsty. She could go without food for a while, if necessary, but she needed water.

It didn’t look as if Trystan intended to share. He stared into the fire as he ate and drank, not even acknowledging her existence. Perhaps it was best this way. She’d be parched, but would not have to endure threats or physical attack from her captor.

Relieving as that was, she could not help but wonder why. Trystan had always wanted her. That night in her tent and the morning she had believed it was Alix who seduced her, he had been very open about what he wanted. He had said he would take his time with her tonight, and yet now that they were camped for the night he ignored her.

His natural impulse was to take what he wanted. What stopped him from taking her now? She tried to see, tried to understand, and after a while she did.

He was afraid of what she would see. Not of Alix rising, not of losing control, but of her gift. What did he think she would learn? He was entirely open and honest about his plans and desires, so what did he hide?

Sanura held her breath for a moment. Only Trystan’s primitive survival instinct would keep him from the sex he desired. He believed that if they were joined and she saw too much of him, she’d be able to discover his weakness and send him away.

He was afraid of her.

She swallowed hard before forcing herself to speak. “May I have a drink of water?”

Trystan lifted his head and looked at her. His hard face, illuminated by firelight, gave her a start. Those eyes, the slash of a mouth . . . he was a hard man who could hurt her, if he wished. “No,” he answered simply.

“I can survive without food for a little while, but I must have water,” she explained. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “I’ll do anything for water, Trystan. Anything you want.”

He cocked his head to one side and studied her quizzically.

“If you don’t give me water, I won’t be able to travel tomorrow. You’ll be forced to leave me behind or carry me.”

“Or kill you,” he said without emotion.

If he’d wanted to kill her, she’d already be dead. “If you let me live, I will make it worth your trouble,” she promised. “You know I can.”

His eyes narrowed. “That sounds very much like a sexual proposition.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“What about your precious Alix? I doubt he would approve. ”

“I loved Alix, but he’s gone. You look like him. You will taste and feel like him. I might pretend that you are him, for a while.”

Trystan smiled. “You want my body?”

Again she swallowed hard, and gathered her courage. “Yes.”

He walked toward her, waterskin in hand. “Strangely enough, knowing that you want me makes me want you less.”

She was not surprised to hear those words. Trystan would be aroused by fear, and to take what was not given would make him feel powerful. He craved power most of all, much more than he craved her.

He carelessly poured water into her mouth. Sanura closed her eyes as she drank, as water spilled down the front of her dress. She would do what had to be done in order to find out how to bring Alix back. She would do anything. Anything at all.

When Trystan pulled the waterskin away from her mouth, she gulped down one last drink and then opened her eyes. She looked straight at him, and she was not afraid. He was a man like any other, driven by darker desires and yet—still just a man. She licked her lips and lifted her bound hands. “Free me, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

“It isn’t necessary for you to be free for me to take what I want,” he assured her.

She let her hands fall. “That’s true enough. Is that what you desire, Trystan? I will scream for you, if you’d like. I will pretend to fight.”

He smiled. “When I do take you, you won’t be pretending. ”

Her wrists were tied together by lengths of soft, worn cloth, but they were not bound against her body. She lifted her hands and began to awkwardly unfasten the bodice of her plain dress. The fabric was wet and difficult to work with, but one by one she unfastened the buttons and spread the fabric wide. Trystan watched every sway of her fingers, he eyed every inch of skin as it was exposed.

“You kissed my breasts once, do you remember?” she said. “I was wearing the costume of my home, I was still blue, and you leaned in and touched me with your mouth. You drew the fabric and my nipple into your mouth. Do you remember?” she asked again, hoping to paint a picture in his mind which he could not shake.

“I remember well.”

“I liked it,” she whispered. “Even though I knew it was you and not Alix, I liked it very much. I almost experienced release simply because you touched me there in a way no other man ever had.” Her breasts were bared to the cool night air, and her nipples hardened and peaked in response to the cold. “Touch me again,” she commanded.

If Trystan would touch her just once, he’d be hers to command. He would not be able to stop, once they began. He did not have the control or even the desire to restrain himself when he had something he wanted in his grasp. Once they were joined, she’d be able to see what he hid from her: a way to bring Alix back.

His hand rose slowly, advancing toward her breasts. That hand stopped before it met flesh.

“You’re very devious,” he said as his hand fell. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re after? Do you think I don’t know what you want, you witchy woman?” He stepped away from her. “Our time will come, but not tonight.”

“Afraid?” she snapped as disappointment welled up inside her.

“Of you?” he laughed. “No.”

“Then why won’t you
touch
me? Why don’t you take what you want?”

In the firelight, his eyes went hard. “Maybe I liked you better when you were blue,” he said. “Maybe I liked you better when you were forbidden. Maybe I don’t want you anymore. ”

She knew that wasn’t true. He wanted her now, but in spite of his primitive instincts he denied himself. There was only one thing which would make him deny his urges. Survival.

Sanura refastened the buttons of her bodice. “You don’t know what you’re denying yourself,” she said coolly.

“I do, actually,” he said. “I have been inside you before, in case you don’t remember.”

“I remember,” she said without emotion. “I also remember that Alix had to show up to finish the task you started. Why is that, Trystan?” she asked. “Are you damaged as a man? Are you unable to be a proper lover? Are you afraid that if you lie with me, Alix will once again have to rise up in order to do what you can’t?”

Perhaps it was not wise to taunt a man as primitive as Trystan, but what choice did she have? If he didn’t touch her, she might never discover how to save Alix.

After experiencing a flash of pure rage which Sanura felt even from this distance, Trystan laughed. “Maybe I won’t kill you after all,” he said. “You and I would make quite the clever couple. We’re two of a kind, you know, two sides of the same dark coin.”

“We are nothing alike!” she protested.

“You and I are very much alike, Sanura,” Trystan said confidently. “We both know what we want and we’ll do whatever is necessary to take it, to make it our own. You seduce with your body, I fight with my sword. I slay with a blade, you slay with a smile and a twist of your hips. You’re cunning and devious just as I am, but in a sweet, feminine way which is not so obvious but is just as effective, perhaps more so. Yes, we are both willing to do whatever is necessary to have what we want.” He grinned at her. “We’re the perfect couple, Sanura. How would you like to be empress? ”

TARI
crept along the road toward the light of the campfire which was no longer so far in the distance. That had to be Vyrn’s camp, it just had to be! She was tired and hungry and afraid, after two long days of searching for her soon-to-be husband.

When she heard the murmur of male voices, she smiled. Yes, this had to be the place.

She left the road long before the soldiers might see or hear her. Vyrn had been insistent that no one know of their alliance, so she would remain in the woods. She would shadow the soldiers until the time was right, and she would meet with Vyrn when he was separated from the others. He would be so glad to see her!

As she neared the camp, her steps were careful and very, very slow. She did not want to snap twigs and rattle downed and dried leaves, and call attention to her presence. She’d assumed the soldiers might have someone on watch, but as she drew closer and saw no signs of defense, she decided that was not the case. They did not expect resistance; the country was not at war and they were the hunters, not the hunted, so why bother guarding their camp?

Soon she was near enough to see that there were seven men gathered around the campfire. Where was the other? She did her best to see and identify each man. It was Rolf who was missing. Was he circling the campground, searching for intruders? Pissing in the forest?
Right behind her?
She hunkered down and made herself small. She closed her eyes to listen to their words, hungering for the sound of Vyrn’s voice. The men talked about many things, important and unimportant. They were all determined to find the prince and the woman he had taken with him, and were frustrated that they’d had no luck thus far.

Eventually the talk turned somber.

“Rolf was a fine soldier,” one of the Columbyanan sentinelssaid. His voice had that pleasant accent, but was not Vyrn’s. “He will be missed.”

There was a round of murmured agreement.

Apparently Rolf would not be in the forest searching for intruders. He was dead. Tari felt a rush of sadness. That was too bad, really. Rolf had always been an agreeable sort.

“The prince must be made to pay for murdering poor Rolf.”

Tari smiled. That was the voice she had come here to find. The timbre of the voice sent a shiver of warmth through her. Since no one was in the woods on lookout, she lay on her belly and scooted into a better position. A glimpse of Vyrn’s face would be nice. Just a glimpse. As she inched forward, the men continued to talk about Rolf. Apparently, after one was dead, his less desirable traits were forgotten and only the good remained.

“Rolf was a bit sweet on the maid Tari.” The sound of her name caught Tari’s attention. The speaker of the surprising words was Tenjin, who’d been friends with the deceased soldier and would surely know. Rolf had been sweet on her? She’d never guessed. Why, he had never spoken two words to her!

“Tari?” One Columbyanan sentinel said in disbelief. “Of all the maids, why her?”

Tari waited for Vyrn to come to her defense, to tell them all that she was beautiful and loyal and sometimes sweet, but instead he laughed. “Talk about an ugly woman! I’d have to put a bag over her head before I could screw her, and even then I’d have to be pretty damned desperate. Does she have any meat on her bones? There’s likely nothing but a skeleton beneath her clothes.”

Most of the men laughed. Another had something disparaging to say about her nose.

In the silent forest, a tear slipped down Tari’s cheek. She knew she was no beauty, but to be called ugly, to be laughed at, hurt to the core. She knew Vyrn wanted to keep their relationship quiet for the time being, but that didn’t mean he had to be cruel. That didn’t mean he had to
laugh
.

It got worse as they began to talk about the women they did find attractive, the women they’d had pleasurable sexual relations with, the women they had loved. Her name was not mentioned.

All her dreams fell apart as Tari lay in the woods and listened to the soldiers’ laughter and their boasts of exploits with loose women. Vyrn had more tales to tell than anyone else, more advice to offer the younger men. Things like
Make a woman believe whatever she wants to believe, and you’ll get anything you want. Tell her whatever she wants to hear, but never be the first to say “love.” If you’re smart, you can make her think that anything you want is her idea.
They laughed at that one. His final bit of advice sent a chill down her spine and through her blood, then straight into her heart.

Before meeting Vyrn, she’d had given up all hopes of love and family, but he’d ignited those hopes. He’d made them seem real, but it had been a lie. It had been cruel to make her think she could have all she wanted, while the entire time he was planning to use her and then
disappear
.

Tari rested her chin on her hands. Soon her sorrow passed and a deep anger settled in. She’d murdered for Vyrn. She’d taken an innocent life because he swore it was the only way they could be together. He’d collect a fine reward for his work—for her work—and they would build a life together. Lies. All lies. But the blood remained on her hands.

After a while, after the soldiers slept and the fire died, the anger went away and was replaced with a coldness, an emptiness. If Vyrn wanted to disappear, she’d be glad to assist him.

THEY
walked for two days without seeing another human being. Trystan led her as if she were an animal. He fed her just enough to keep her alive, and he enjoyed talking about his plans—plans for her, plans for his brother.

Sanura knew without doubt that if Trystan killed Emperor Jahn as he planned, Alix would never reemerge. He would not be able to live with himself if his brother died at his hand. Even if he were able to muster the strength to fight and defeat Trystan, he would not. He would wither and die in whatever dark place he now existed. That horrible act would be the death of the man she loved, and complete victory for the darkness which now ruled his body.

But he was not gone yet.

It had surely been Alix’s influence that kept Trystan from striking her on the day he’d emerged to take control. Would the same be true when he tried to murder his brother? Would Alix be strong enough to stop that atrocity as well?

Trystan seemed to forget about her for long stretches of time, even though he led her like an unwanted pet or an animal headed to the slaughter. Now and then he would look back at her and seem almost startled by her presence, and she finally decided that he had not slept at all last night. She had slept for a few short hours, exhausted as she was, and she’d assumed that he also slept. The body he now possessed would need sleep, and soon.

It was late in the afternoon when he stopped to relieve himself and to allow her the same privilege. He then tied one end of her tether to a low-lying limb and searched the immediate area for edible fruits and leaves. So far he had chosen wisely, and they had not gone hungry or gotten sick from eating the wrong sort of plant life. On her own she likely would’ve starved, or else unknowingly picked poisonous foliage. He disdained her, he insulted her, but he also kept her alive.

Even though she had decided it was safest for her to remain silent and on the edges of his thoughts, she had to look beyond her own safety if she wanted Alix back.

“You must sleep,” she said, trying to force a tone of caring into her voice.

“Why?” he snapped, glancing up from his study of a clump of what looked to be tall, thick weeds.

“Because if Vyrn and the others catch up with us and you are in this state, they will cut you down before you realize they’re upon us.”

“I’m a better swordsman than Alix. No one will take me by surprise.” He returned his attention to the task at hand, trying to dismiss her.

She could not allow him to dismiss her. “Without sleep, your mind will not function as it should. You will not see clearly.” She lifted her chin haughtily. “I do not care for your life all that much, but if they kill you, I will surely be next. I’m not ready to die, Trystan.”

He fought sleep, had almost fallen asleep on his feet as they walked, but he did not want her to know of his weakness.

“If I sleep, you’ll escape,” he argued.

“Where would I go?” she said too loudly. “I know no one in this country or in Tryfyn who does not wish me dead. I would dearly love to make my way back to Claennis, but I do not have the resources to find my way there on my own. I despise you, Trystan, but you are the only person in this land who wishes to keep me alive.”

“For now,” he clarified.

“For now.”

He stood, a handful of selected edible plants in his hands. Openly, he searched her face for signs that she lied, that she harbored nefarious plans, but as he did not have her gift, he would see only what she wished him to see. She remained passive and without the anger she felt for what he’d done to Alix. She showed him none of her fear.

“What of your guards?” he asked. “What of those two fat protectors who have vowed to kill any man who touches you?”

“I do not fool myself into believing that Paki and Kontar are any match for you, Trystan. You’ve proved that once. They will not confront you again.” She hoped that was true. Unchecked, Trystan would quickly kill them both. Her protectors, her countrymen, were not her friends—she had no true friends—but they were good men who had left their homes behind to fulfill their duties. They should not die for it.

Sanura still believed that if she had sex with Trystan, she would be able to find his weaknesses, but last night he’d made it clear that he was not going to be swayed by an open seduction. She’d have to be much more subtle in order to make him put aside his fears to have her.

“And really,” she said with a touch of disdain, “if you are going to pretend to be a prince, you must take more care with your appearance. Anyone who saw you now would never believe you’re Prince Alixandyr.”

“I am Prince Alixandyr,” he insisted.

“You don’t look like him.”

Angry, he stood. “I
am
him!”

Sanura sighed and stood to face him without fear. “Perhaps, but Alix took greater care with his appearance than you have. I don’t suppose we can do anything about the beard that’s growing in until our circumstances change, and all you can do with your clothing is straighten it a bit. But really, your hair is a mess. The clip in back is hanging loose and half of your hair is in your face.”

He roughly pushed the hair back and felt awkwardly for the clip. “Who cares about my hair?”

“Come closer and sit down,” she ordered sharply, and surprisingly, he obeyed.

It was difficult to work with her hands tied, but she managed to remove the silver clip and move it to her mouth while she combed Trystan’s hair with her fingers. She moved slowly, allowing her hands to linger on his scalp, to brush against his neck. Yes, the desire he always felt for her grew, and yet he did not realize that she was touching him this way with purpose.

She could do this only if she thought of Alix, if she assured herself that he was somehow present. As her fingers raked through his thick, wavy hair, she remembered the way it had fallen over her body as they’d made love and she’d looked into his emotion-filled green eyes. She could very easily cry for what was lost, but she did not allow herself even one tear.

His hair was never manageable, but by the time she was done, it looked much better. Less wild. Less untamed. Once the clip was in place, she ran her hands down the length of the curling strands, then settled them both on his shoulder.

“Much better,” she said, making sure her breath made its way to his ear.

Beneath her hands, he shuddered. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Tonight I will sleep. I can’t afford to be less than alert, and it isn’t as if...”

He did not finish his sentence, but Sanura knew what he meant to say.
It isn’t as if Alix is strong enough to rise up while I sleep.

As she stepped back, allowing her fingertips to rake over his shoulder, she prayed that he was wrong.

“WAIT
here,” Laris whispered.

“But why?” Verity held his hand tightly. She did not want to be left alone! After nearly three days of walking, they had finally arrived in a small village. She wanted a bath and a bed and clean clothes and a brush for her hair and
food
. Heaven above, she wanted food!

Laris placed his face close to hers and smiled. Heavens, she loved his smile! “You can’t be seen, Lady Verity. If Wallis and Cavan ask questions about a beautiful and waterlogged lady, you will be remembered. One more sentinel passing through will mean nothing.”

Of course he thought she was beautiful, even now when she was unkempt and her hair was matted and she was slightly sunburned. It was the love potion that made him think she was beautiful; it was the love potion that made him care for her so ardently.

She nodded her agreement, and he kissed her forehead before leaving her in this narrow, dank alley which ran between two of the town’s four public buildings. If she hunkered down behind the woodpile, no one would see her from the main street.

When she was empress, she would never be dirty. Her feet would not hurt, and she’d have a hundred hats to keep the sun from her delicate face. She would have those who tried to kill her executed—though she did not want to watch as they died. She shuddered. That sight would be too much for her delicate constitution.

The words “when I am empress” no longer gave her joy, as they once had. It would be a wonderful life, she was sure of it, but where would Laris fit in? She could make him her private and most favorite sentinel, she supposed, and perhaps they would even become lovers—after the wedding, of course. In the past that plan had seemed most appropriate, but now she was sure that Laris deserved better. He deserved to be loved, to have a family and a home of his own. He deserved better than a sordid and secret affair with the woman he loved only because she’d used a witch’s potion on him.

Just a few weeks ago, her life had seemed so wonderfully simple and clear. Mavise’s prediction of her destiny to marry a great man who’d come from humble beginnings was so clear, so lovely, so
appealing
, and when the emperor’s invitation had arrived and she’d learned of his own humble beginnings, it all made sense to her. Everything any woman could even imagine asking for would be hers. Empress! Who would not wish to be empress? And when she’d admired Laris, for so many reasons, it had seemed perfectly sensible to test the love potion and make sure she had a friend on the long journey to her new life.

She’d never planned for the chaos which had disrupted the journey, chaos which she felt inside and out.

Unwanted tears filled her eyes. She never should’ve used that blasted potion! It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now...now she knew that the love she saw in his eyes wasn’t real. He had saved her life, protected her from harm, cared for her, at times he’d literally carried her... all for a love which was not real.

What she felt for Laris wasn’t love, she told herself as she wiped away her annoying tears. It was gratitude. It was relief. Her gratitude was so strong simply because without him she’d be dead. Without him, she would’ve drowned in the river, and even if she hadn’t, she would’ve foolishly and blindly returned to the men who wished her dead, and they would have tried again. She did not fool herself into thinking the lucky talisman she wore would protect her from everything and everyone.

Verity was still crying when Laris returned with food, a rolled-up blanket, and a neatly folded dress. When he came closer, she saw that there was a hairbrush on top of the clothing. He hadn’t had much money, she knew, and yet he had spent it on her. More tears fell.

Laris was alarmed when he saw her tears. He placed his purchases carefully on the ground, and sat beside her to wrap his arms around her and offer comfort. His large hand stroked her back, and he whispered into her ear.
Everything’s going to be all right. You’re safe, Lady Verity. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t leave you alone again, I promise
. His assurances only made her cry harder, and she wrapped her arms around him to hold on tightly. He was warm and hard and strong, and maybe her love wasn’t any more real than his, but at the moment it
was
love.

She was a wretched person for using the witch’s potion on him. Wretched, wretched, wretched!

He took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. His deep brown eyes were so warm, she felt as if she could fall into them. Her heart did a little dance.

“There’s a creek just west of the village. Stop crying and I’ll take you there. We can bathe and you can try on your new dress, and we’ll eat.”

Verity sniffled. “A picnic. That would be nice.”

Laris laughed, and the sound was very nice. “Yes, Lady Verity, we will have a picnic.”

She touched his face, ran her hand across the little bit of fair stubble which was growing there. “Call me Verity,” she said, “just Verity.”

“If you wish,” he said softly.

“I do wish,” she said. Of course, at the moment she wished for many things, and most of them would surely not come true.

Laris took her hand, gathered up his purchases in the crook of his other arm, and led her through the alley. At the rear of the buildings he stopped to glance in both directions, to make sure they would not be seen. When he felt it was safe, he held her hand more tightly and ran. Not as fast as he might’ve run alone, but as fast as she could manage. There was an expanse of clear green field where they were completely exposed, and then they burst into the shade of a green forest.

Once there, Laris slowed his step. They still held hands, and he pulled her closer to him. Verity was very glad to walk so close to him, to rest against his side on occasion, to take in his warmth.

They soon came to the creek, as he had promised. On the bank he released her hand and turned his attention to his purchases. The blanket he tossed to the ground, for now. The food he set aside. He handed her the dress and the brush.

“The dress belonged to the grocer’s wife. She passed away last year. I know it isn’t much, but...” He shrugged his shoulders. “I hope it fits well enough.”

Verity looked down at her own ruined clothing and gave a little sigh of mourning. The riding gown was made of the finest material. It was blue, her favorite color. Unfortunately, fine material was not made to stand up to river water and mud, and her garment was now as stiff as wood in some places. It was no longer evident that this outfit had once been the shade of the sky on a clear morning in the Northern Province.

She took the dress Laris offered. It was green. Green was not her color
at all
. This particular shade made her skin appear yellow. She could tell at a glance that the dress was too large for her, and that the material would be scratchy against her skin. There was a stain on the bodice, as if the previous owner had spilled greasy food there and it had not quite come out. The dress had once belonged to a woman who was now dead.

She looked Laris in the eye. “I love it. Thank you.”

He nodded almost shyly. “It isn’t much, I know, but it’s clean and simple and I expect it will be more comfortable than your ruined clothing.”