Maiden's Wolf (In Deception's Shadow Book 3) (14 page)

The heat of her
healing magic intensified and his eyelids drifted closed in pleasure.

He swallowed
hard, but saw no reason not to tell her the truth. The more she understood
about pack bonds, the more she’d be able to help.

“Pack bonds are
formed over time. From the moment a lupwyn is born into his pack, he becomes
familiar with pack magic—the combined power of all Larnkins within that pack.
Power is shared freely between all within the group. It’s as natural to us as
breathing. And to be truthful, we are unaware of it for the most part. Only
when one is injured or in need of some other kind of help, do we feel our magic
flaring to life to aid that member. One advantage of pack bonds over bondmates
is that lupwyn magic can be shared over a great distance. That is why I was
able to act as a spy.”

When she was
silent for a time, he opened his eyes.

Beatrice stood
before him, her gaze unseeing and distant, as if she mulled over some other
question she wasn’t sure how to voice. At last she blinked and looked at him.
“But surely there must be other ways to form these pack bonds. Not all members
can be born into it. Some others must come from the outside. Mates, lone
wolves, new members drifting in from other packs. I’m sorry if comparing you to
a wolf is insulting, but you must admit your species shares some social
similarities. And all life needs diversity to survive and to avoid inbreeding.
It is only logical for there to be a way for others not born into it to become
pack.”

The human was
correct on all counts. While many pack members were born into it, outsiders
joined because they were mates. The act of mating almost always established new
pack bonds. But he respected her too much to allow that to happen. She was a
kindred spirit, as well as being selfless and compassionate. And young, too
damn young. She deserved the chance to learn her own heart first. In a hundred
or so years, if she was certain of her interest in him, he would see where their
relationship might go. He would not allow desperation on his part to rule a
decision they both might regret later.

“Are you going to
answer my question?” Beatrice’s thoughtful expression had taken on a hint of
annoyance. “And don’t bother lying to protect me.”

He sighed. “Yes,
you are right. When other members seek to join the pack, it is usually because
they are mates. Mating re-aligns the pack bonds, harmonizing them until the new
member is absorbed into the pack.”

“So you will die
if your pack bonds are not re-forged? And the simplest, fastest, and easiest
way to forge those bonds are through mating? I know we do not know each other
very well, but I will not stand aside and allow you to die when there is a way
I could heal you.” Her chin tipped up slightly. “I’m no weeping maiden, and
your form isn’t unpleasant to look upon. If you find me pleasing enough, I
don’t see why we shouldn’t try to restore your bonds.”

Her expression
had turned fierce and defiant, challenging him to so much as utter something
about self-sacrifice.

“I am flattered
by your offer. If the choice was a life with you or death, I’m reasonable and
selfish enough to choose you. And while our mission is of the utmost
importance, the situation isn’t desperate for me yet. As long as we are able to
share power for a few candlemarks each night, that should satisfy my Larnkin’s
need.”

Her lips parted
in a look of surprise. “By the Light. You’re not attracted to me, not even a
little bit, are you?” She started to laugh. “Here I’ve been propositioning you,
and you’re actually utterly appalled. Of course you’re not interested. I’m
human and you’re not.”

While it would
certainly be easier to let her think that, he found he couldn’t bring himself
to lie to her.

“That is not
exactly true.” Rubbing at his chin, he fought a sheepish smile. “You forget,
I’m half-phoenix and that species has a softness for humans. At least I think
that’s why I’ve been fighting off an attraction to you for some months now.
However, I am not free to act upon it.”

“Ah. I’m glad you
don’t think I’m hideous.” A soft smile spread across her lips and merriment
flashed in her eyes. “Perhaps, as you say, the situation isn’t perilous just
yet. We will continue as we have, sharing power like before, and I will monitor
you. If you are correct, then in half a moon cycle you should be back among
your people, and they will be able to heal you properly without us having to…form
a more physical union.”

He didn’t miss
the delightful red hue her cheeks turned. Perhaps the little healer wasn’t as
worldly as she made herself sound.
“Not that it matters.
I will not
be the one to find that out,”
he reminded himself sternly.

Still, he feared
he’d succumb far too easily if Beatrice decided it was too dangerous for him to
remain un-mated. Worse, he was starting to wonder why that would be such an
unfortunate event.

To get his own
mind on something else, he changed the topic. “We will stop just ahead for the
night. I imagine we could both use the longer rest. In another day, the gelding
should be well enough to start riding again.”

She nodded her
agreement and sighed softly. “I would love a bath with real soap. I’d be
willing to kill a few acolytes to get it, too.”

Silverblade
huffed out a short, humorless bark of laughter. “Let’s hope that isn’t
necessary. All I feel like battling is sleep, and that only until I’ve filled
my belly. At which point, I’m not even going to want to battle that.”

Beatrice nodded
her agreement.

When they at last
walked into their new camp, Beatrice quickly studied it and started picking out
all the amenities Silverblade mentioned. She grinned. Here the river crashed
over a series of small waterfalls and down into a rocky ravine. At the foot of the
small cliff, the river widened into a pool deep enough for swimming. Which also
meant it was the first time in days she’d be able to partake in the
much-looked-forward-to bath. A gently sloping bank comprised of sand and round
river rocks would make for an easy entrance.

Mist rose up from
the falls, slicking the rocks on either side of the river in a wide area along
both banks. She eyed the nearest foliage, hoping to see some of the familiar
and coveted soapwort leaves. Later, she’d take a closer look.

“I’ll start
gathering river rocks to make a fire ring and see if I can find some dry wood
and kindling.” She studied the mist being kicked up by the falls for a moment.
“Although I might have to go farther afield for that.”

Silverblade
pointed out a game trail. “The thicker tree canopy protects the undergrowth.
Start there and I’ll retrieve my stash of supplies from the cave behind the
falls.”

Beatrice started
towards the game trail he’d pointed out, but stopped to watch as he leapt from
one outcropping to the next, hauling himself up the ravine wall as if it was
nothing. Just as swiftly, he navigated the slick rocks closer to the falls. As
she watched, he dragged himself up onto a narrow ledge and then vanished into a
dark crevice just to the right of the main flow.

She was impressed
by his agility. Not to mention it was a subtle demonstration of his strength.

While she
distractedly gathered a few pieces of somewhat-dry wood for the fire, she kept
one eye on the dark entrance to the crevice. Before she had time to even
collect a handful of twigs, Silverblade was already at the entrance and then making
his way back down, leaping from ledge to ledge to land in a crouch at the base.

Slung over his
shoulder was a large, leather satchel almost as big as she was. She eyed the
satchel with its intricate beadwork, giving it more attention than she applied
to her current task. Fighting the temptation to throw the few twigs she’d
collected down next to the fire and race to Silverblade’s side, she instead
gathered a few more pieces and piled them near the fire ring. Besides, if she
wanted to prove that she was mature enough for him to trust with his life, she
couldn’t completely discard her last few shreds of dignity like an overly
excited child at the sight of presents.

After venturing
once more to the tree line, she gathered another armful of wood and then made
her way back to camp, all the time casting not-so-innocent looks at his
satchel.

 “The
preservation spells are still active,” Silverblade said and patted the ground
next to him.

Once she made her
way around the stone cooking ring, she peered over his shoulder for a moment
and then sat cross-legged next to him. He worked loose the buckle and when he
tossed back the flap, she saw that it had a drawstring drawn tight at the neck.
He untied that layer of protection and she noticed there was another one below.
The third one was not so ordinary. Her healer’s gift told her it was magic
woven to protect the contents inside. She studied what he’d called a
preservation spell. Interesting. She’d bet she could create something similar
with a little practice and perhaps guidance from him.

Her excitement
started to rise a second time. There might be some kind of foodstuff lurking
within the big satchel. Tea would be nice. So would some dried fruits or nuts.
And if it wasn’t food, she desperately hoped for a change of clothing or
blankets.

He pulled out
several packages wrapped in a strange, smooth fabric—she’d never seen anything
like it. Again, her healer’s magic analyzed it. After a moment’s study, she
recognized it as not fabric at all. Instead, some kind of corporeal magic with
actual weight and substance had been woven fiber by fiber and formed into a
cloth.

When he unfolded
the edges and revealed the contents, she nearly leapt upon him. Grinning like a
fool, she took the offered item. It was some kind of trail ration shaped into
four little brown cakes. Each one about the size of her palm. They looked
nourishing and smelled divine. She broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth.
And then had to fight to keep from shoving the rest in after.

Silverblade
chewed on his own small cake. He finished his and then refolded the fabric back
over the remaining cakes neatly. Sighing happily, she finished hers and then
licked up the last of the crumbs.

 “We can have
more later,” Silverblade explained as he pulled more items from the satchel.

He handed her a
large blanket. It was made of some soft, tightly woven fiber; the quality quite
superb. Guiltily, she realized the lupwyns were far more advanced than she’d
thought. The blanket’s colorful, geometric patterns were striking and pleasing
to the eye.

Never had she
owned anything half as nice. Once or twice, when she’d been taking some of Old
Mother’s herbs to market, she’d peeked through the windows of some of the more
expensive stores where the noblewomen shopped, but even then she’d be surprised
if the blankets there had been as soft as the one she now stroked.

An unhappy
realization occurred to her.

Silverblade
halted his hunt through the satchel and glanced at her, his nostrils flaring as
if he was reading her scent. “What’s wrong? Something angers you.”

She didn’t answer
him right away, too tied up in a moment of self-loathing, but after a time she
sighed and told him the truth. “Once I actually met you I learned my view of
the lupwyn species was somewhat…incorrect. But until this exact moment I didn’t
realize I’m as guilty as the rest of humanity—judging and making assumptions
without facts to support them. I looked upon the lupwyns’ wolf-like appearance
and came to an unfounded assumption that your kind was a race of simple forest
dwellers, living off the land like primitive nomads. Yes, I know your kind
possesses far more magic and live much longer than humans, but I think I only
now came to the understanding that your race is just as advanced, or more so,
than the one I was born to.”

Silverblade
rubbed his face. No doubt in an attempt to hide his smile, but she still saw
it. “I’m not sure advanced is what I’d call my race. Our society is a simple
one that hasn’t changed in thousands upon thousands of years. We are satisfied with
what we have achieved. My father and I once debated this topic. He believes
humans, although a younger race, have a greater potential for exploration. He
said if your race doesn’t destroy itself first, it might one day explore the
other worlds out among the stars.”

“There are other
worlds?” Beatrice had never thought much about it, but found the thought an
intriguing one.

“The oldest
Larnkins have great knowledge of how the universe works. As for lupwyns, I can
see how you and your kind might come to believe as you have about us. The most
a human is likely to encounter would be a lupwyn scout on patrol, like me. And
I can say that I, for one, do not bother with fancy weapons, armor, or
elaborate clothing. It would be impractical. A scout must travel light and
fast.”

Of course they
would. Her own ignorance and arrogance angered her. She just hoped she’d never
made Silverblade feel inferior because of her misplaced presumptions.

When he took the
blanket from her and would have placed it around her shoulders, she jumped up
and darted out from underneath his hands. “Oh no you don’t. I will not foul
that lovely blanket with my far-from-clean person. A bath is my first priority
after I get the cook fire going.”

Silverblade
laughed. “I understand. I’m none too fresh either. However, I’ll see what I can
hunt up to go into a stew. There are some herbs, salt, and tubers in my
supplies.”

He turned and
started off toward the forest but she called after him. “You don’t by chance
have some kind of soap in there, do you?”

Glancing over his
shoulder at her, he flashed her a grin and a hint of fang. “Yes. But save me
some too, unless you like the aroma of sweaty wolf.”

Beatrice took that
as permission and started to dig around in the bag. A few moments later, she
whooped in delight and extracted her hand from the satchel, a hard, fist-sized,
balsam-scented package clutched in her fingers.

When she
unwrapped her newfound treasure, she looked at the large lump of soap with a
huge grin. “The gods are ever merciful.”

And somehow, she
imagined Silverblade would appreciate it more if she was clean when she seduced
him later.

She made her way
over to the stream and then looked up towards the setting sun. There’d be
enough time to wash her clothing now and have it dry by the time she needed it
again in the morning.

Not that Beatrice
hadn’t worn damp clothes before. But dry ones were always nicer.