22 Nights (29 page)

Was that why she thought she loved Savyn, so she would not have to be alone? How weak was she that she would hold onto a man who was better off without her, just so she wouldn’t have to exist without companionship? She had always been different, she had always been separate, but she had never before felt as if her world was as black as Savyn’s had become when Trinity had hit him on the head and taken his sight.

She began to rock back and forth, uncertain, uneasy. All her life, important decisions had been made for her. Where to live; whom to marry. As a child her parents had instructed her when and how to use her magical abilities; as an adult her husband had taken on that job. Savyn was the only decision she had ever made on her own, the only decision more important than what gown to wear or whether they should have chicken or beef for supper, and she had ruined his life in the process.

Blind and every bit as alone as she was, was Savyn still better off without her?

MERIN
trudged through the fast-flowing but shallow water for what felt like an endless period of time. With each step he focused on the next step. He took one step and then another, refusing to think too far ahead. Though they came close a time or two, Bela’s slim, tall boots never touched the water, as he had feared they might. He slogged on. The voices spoke, Bela sang, time stopped. Finally the shape of the passage changed: widening, sprawling, opening into yet another grotto which was as large as, or larger than, the one they’d left behind. He walked faster, came close to running, when he saw dry land—dry rock—once again.

When Merin was well out of the river, he was glad to put Bela on her feet and stand tall for a moment, free of the river’s enchanted water and strange influence. He stretched tired, tight muscles. For a while, at least, they would be able to walk alongside the river rather than through it. The quiet that had come to his mind the moment he’d left the river was as stunningly shocking as the original assault of voices. Along the way he had become accustomed to the noise the crystals made, as if they were becoming a part of him.

He had never thought to see anything like the caverns they traveled through, and though he was drained and more worried than he would allow Bela to see, he could not help but be awestruck by the beauty of this unnatural place. The walls and the water sparkled like something out of a dream. They glimmered like a lady’s jewel, eye-catching and beautiful. And yet the background for that enchanted gleam was cold, hard rock which was jagged in many places and downright dangerous in others.

The rainbows thrown off by the river and the crystals were softer here than they had been a short way back, but they were no less startling or stunning. The place was vivid color and stark gray, plain stone and sparkling crystal, beauty and stark terror.

Without the sun to guide them, he could not say what time of day it might be. It seemed as if they had been traveling for many hours, but time was odd and he couldn’t be certain. No matter how long it had been, he was unusually tired, exhausted after the trek through the water. He was also hungry. He should’ve put a few of those hard Turi oatcakes in his pocket before entering the cave, but he had not expected . . . he had not expected any of this.

“Sit for a moment,” Bela said kindly, and Merin wondered how bad he must look for her to sound so concerned.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she said, taking his hand and sitting on a wide, flat section of stone. He had no choice but to sit with her, and she was right. He needed the rest. It felt good to sit and watch the water rather than to be trudging through it.

A part of him wondered if they would ever get out of here. Perhaps this enchanted river ran through the mountain endlessly, twisting and turning back on itself. Would they step from this cavern, round a corner, and find themselves back in the original chamber, where carvings marked his life—and perhaps his life to come—and Kitty was buried in stone?

It was such a relief to be out of the water, to hear nothing in his own head but silence. “We can rest here for a while,” he said, leaning back on his hands. Bela leaned back, too. Fatigue washed through Merin, and he soon gave in to the tiredness and lay back on the stone. It was not a soft bed by any means, but felt good all the same. Bela did not hesitate to lie beside him, as she had on so many nights. Above their heads the crystals sparkled like countless stars. Gemstones streaked the rock far above, beautiful and bewitching.

Merin closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep, exhaustion overtaking him. Bela’s warm, soft body rested against his, and she slept, too. He woke once to hear her even breathing, to take comfort in the fact that she was there, still connected, still his. When he returned to sleep, with crystals sparkling all around—above and beneath him—he dreamed briefly of a daughter who looked like Bela but had his dark, curly hair. She was tall and had her mother’s wide smile, and she held a sword as well as any warrior he had ever trained. She was unafraid; she was beautiful. And he was comforted by the unshakable knowledge that she was going to be all right.

 

IT
wasn’t as though she had not dreamed of this before, Bela thought as Merin removed her clothes and kissed her body and aroused her with his hands. From that night when he’d shown her what sexual pleasure could be, she had experienced many different versions of this particular dream.

This one was different. It was more real than the others, more wonderfully vivid, and the dancing lights around them were like their personal rainbows. Yes, Merin was making love to her in a rainbow.

His face was as comely as ever, if more colorful than usual as the bright hues of the rainbow cut across his face. He took his time in preparation. In past encounters she had been anxious to get to the end, to take the shattering pleasure, but he was right in insisting that the preparation was important. She had come to love this part, when Merin kissed and aroused her so patiently, when she knew in her heart he was not at all patient.

As in the way of dreams, one minute he was dressed in clothing damp with water from the enchanted river, and the next they were both undressed. She liked him this way, naked and pressed against her, wonderfully bare and entirely hers. Bela had never thought of herself as being soft in any way, but when she and Merin held one another this way, the softness of her body and the hardness of his were in stark and wonderful contrast, and for the first time in her life she was glad of the softness of her body. It was right for this. For them.

When she was more than ready, he thrust inside her and she cried out in relief and pleasure. Her cries echoed, they reverberated and turned into what sounded like a laugh. Had she ever thought they would not fit properly? Had she ever thought this would not be achingly wonderful? She was his, and he filled her very nicely. He filled her perfectly, stretching and pushing and thrusting and claiming. Too soon they found completion together, their bodies arching and trembling as one.

It was hot. So hot. They created an intense warmth that rose from their bodies in waves. Sweat beaded on her flesh, it made her and Merin slick with the heat they made.

And then the rain came, gentle and cooling, and Merin’s body drifted down to cover hers for a moment before he rolled away. They lay on their backs, naked and sated, as the gentle rain washed over them. She had never felt anything like it before, and she had been out in the rain many times. This rain felt like gentle fingers, it cooled and caressed.

This rain was like the rainbow that danced around them, that colored their bare bodies red and blue and yellow and green. It was tender, and it was theirs. When the rain stopped, Bela rolled onto her side and draped one leg over Merin’s body. What a wonderful dream.

 

THOUGH
it was hard for him to know how much time passed as he walked, Savyn realized when the day began to fade. The warmth on his face had gradually disappeared, and the temperatures had begun to cool. The day had not been a waste. Throughout the day, which had seemed unbearably long, he’d learned a thing or two. A fallen tree branch, sturdy but slender, helped him make his way along the road without tripping again, as he swept the ground before him. He could also tap it along the grassy edge of the road to make certain he was moving straight ahead and not listing or weaving to one side. He’d had to trip over the damn branch in order to find it, but it had been a good enough trade.

His hearing was quite good. In fact, he heard everything. Insects, the wind in the trees, small animals in the forest, Leyla’s voice.

For a long while after he’d heard her frantic cry, he’d waited to hear her step or the horse’s hooves on the road. She was likely to feel responsible for him and his infirmity, so she’d probably try to collect him as one might a wayward dog. If he heard her coming, he would slip into the forest and hide there. He would not be led about like a wounded and faithful dog, no matter how noble Leyla’s intentions might be.

Savyn realized that he had gotten too accustomed to calling the woman of his fantasies Leyla, in the short time they’d been on the run. He should revert to the more proper Lady Leyla, or simply Lady. He had no right to call her or to
think
of her by her given name. No right at all.

He waited for quite some time, listening closely, but she did not come. There were no footsteps or clopping hooves on this lonely path.

Lady Leyla would be fine without him, Savyn assured himself as he trudged forward. In fact, she would be much better off. If she had decided to search for him, perhaps she had gone toward the village which had been their original destination days ago, a lifetime ago. She would find help there. Maybe she would even make her life there, with a new name.

When darkness fell, Savyn continued to walk along the road. He had his stick, his hearing, his memory of this path. What difference did it make if there was light to illuminate his way or not? He was lost in darkness. But even without his sight, the night was ominous. In the distance a wolf howled. Night birds cawed. Something in the forest hissed, and insects attacked his exposed skin, taking particular delight in his neck. He swatted them away, determined to keep moving as long as possible. He needed to put some distance between him and Lady Leyla. He needed to escape.

Still, before morning arrived, he was compelled to rest, even to sleep. He found a soft patch of grass on the side of the road away from the forest, and he lay there for a while, sleeping in spurts, waking often to a noise or a breeze. Maybe some wild animal would attack him in the night and take his life, such as it was. It was a risk he would gladly take if it meant the torturous fantasies would stop.

Savyn felt some relief when morning came. He was still alive and Lady Leyla had not found him. Maybe she had not searched for him at all. Maybe she was glad to be rid of her burden; maybe she was already in the village, where she could start a new life.

And still, he was not surprised a short while later when he heard Lady Leyla call his name again, much as she had the day before. He also heard the gentle clop of a horse’s hooves. Perhaps she had gone toward the village at first when she searched for him, or perhaps she had remained at the hut for a while, awaiting his return. Whatever had delayed her, she had not given up, as he had hoped. She was coming for him.

Savyn considered moving into the woods and finding a sheltered spot to hide, but now that the time was upon him, something inside refused to take that step. He could imagine too well thinking himself hidden while he was exposed in some silly or pathetic way. He could imagine Lady Leyla seeing him too easily and taking pity on a man who could not even conceal himself properly in the woods. So he kept walking. Even when he knew she was close enough to see him, he did not turn about. What would be the use? He could not see her.

When she was close and the horse slowed, he half expected her to start haranguing him. She should. He had caused her a great deal of trouble by running. But instead of attacking him, she remained silent. It was a few minutes before he heard the horse stop. A moment later Lady Leyla’s feet hit the road, and soon her steps trailed his. She kept a distance, and did not try to run to catch up with him. Instead, she continued to follow, her footsteps in time with his, a soft echo of his own tread.

Finally she asked, “Where are we going?”

Savyn sighed. She was going to make this difficult. She was going to make him say it. “We’re not going anywhere, not together. You can go on to the village. I half expected you’d be there already. Have you decided upon your new name?” He did not stop or even slow down.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she said, her voice even, but a little thick. Maybe she had been crying.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about myself!” she said, finally showing a hint of anger.