Protector of the Flight (22 page)

For
the first time he wondered what memories passed from him to her. If he hadn’t
been so boneless from flattening sex, he’d have tensed, but he didn’t think he
could move a muscle. His memories. He didn’t like to recall some himself, let
alone burden a rare and wonderful woman like Calli with them. Probably no way
to stop them, those few terrible remnants of memory of the slaughter of his
village by horrors.

He
still wasn’t sure how he’d escaped the bloodbath, except he’d been angry with
his brothers and parents and had taken an old blanket and curled up in a corner
under the bed. When the door had crashed open in their cottage and renders and
slayers tumbled through he’d frozen in horror. They’d dragged his family from
their beds. The horrors had shrieked with glee as his parents and brothers
screamed in terror, the monsters’ hideous Songs engorging on the fear, as if it
fueled them. Slashing, ripping. Two minutes and it was over and the horrors
were gone, leaving the red shreds of blood, white shards of bone of Marrec’s
family behind them. He didn’t know how long he huddled there, until the night
fell silent, until he had to see what happened to the rest.

Calli
mewled, shook her head, tears trickling down from under her closed eyes to land
on his neck. His free arm wrapped around her. What was he doing, sending what
he recalled to her? He hadn’t thought of that day for years…but he wasn’t sure
how the coeurdechain worked, hadn’t paid much attention to the snippets of
discussion he’d heard. That cost him now. But if they were bonded like this for
a full twenty-four hours, most of what they remembered, emotions included,
would cycle, he supposed.

She
had no memories of the horrors. He had plenty, from that day that shattered his
life, to following the trail of them, seeing the brief battle between
Chevaliers and the horrors, sidling up to a young volaran with an injured wing,
Dark Lance, standing next to its fallen partner. Calli shouldn’t have to know
of, experience what he had, of the monsters.

Except
now that she was bound to him, she’d be fighting them.

His
jaw clenched. He didn’t want that. Didn’t want her with him in battle. Didn’t
want her harmed. Didn’t want her bright spirit tarnished.

Too
late, wasn’t it? What would happen if he tore off the strips binding them
together, refused the full coeurdechain? His chest constricted.

They
had already taken vows. The Powerful ritual had already been completed. This
bloodbonding was important, but it was only part of the coeurdechain. When he
thought of the oaths they’d exchanged, the words sounded like a stream of
silver bell tones in his mind. The Powerful Song of the ceremony itself, their
Songs intertwined with the vows, made a bond that couldn’t be broken without
deep cost to them both.

Their
lives had changed forever.

She
was in a strange land, hardly anything like what she’d previously known. Horses
and ranching, that was all, he figured, but that was enough for commonality
between them. So most everything here in Lladrana would be different. He
promised himself to help her settle in every way he could.

So
she wouldn’t leave with the Snap.

Immediate
anxiety spiraled through him. No. She couldn’t leave. Could she?

He
didn’t know. He ground his teeth. He’d been too damn focused on his own life,
his old plans, to listen to others chat about the coeurdechain, to look at the
Lorebooks of Bonding left on the study tables in the library at Horseshoe Hall.
Merde, he’d been a fool!

But
he’d never thought he’d win this golden woman. Now, he’d learn everything he
could. He’d read, dammit, until he understood, while they worked together.

That
was the most important thing that had changed in his own life. He had a
Pairling now, and they would fight as a Pair. Her Shield to his Sword, he was
sure. Calli was too soft to be a Sword like Alexa, wasn’t she? He reached for
her memories, the fiercest ones, and found her riding fast and hard around
barrels. Racing. Competing. He marveled at the speed and grace of others she
watched, of the feel of her body when she…barrel raced. Yes, she’d been intense
and fought in that arena and he probed a little deeper for the why.

Because
she had an ambition to train horses. Because she wanted to make her ranch a
center of training. Because she yearned to please her father.

A
hoarse sound tore from him. An angry noise. He despised her father for treating
her like a person of little import, for not recognizing her value and loving
her. The man was worthless.

So
Calli had fought for her father, for her vocation and if she’d stayed on
Exotique Terre, she’d have battled her father for the land. But she was on
Lladrana and here she’d fly into battle against monsters.

Marrec
wasn’t sure what Alexa had been in a former life, but thought that she might
have been some sort of warrior. Calli was horse trainer, a homemaker. Yes,
she’d be Shield to his Sword, and that was a relief. She’d be out of most of
the action. If he was clever he could work with Alexa and Bastien on the field,
have Calli fly near Bastien, another Shield who was one of the best fighters
Marrec knew. Though Alexa and Bastien were Marshalls, part of that elite team.

Marrec
could become a Marshall now, if he wanted. The notion appealed, then he
realized he was stroking Calli’s soft hair and knew she wouldn’t want to do
that. She wanted a ranch, she wanted to train horses, she wanted to enhance the
partnership between volaran and human. He could help her with all those goals.

C
alli woke and
found Marrec looking at her. Her new husband. She sat up straight, then froze.

She’d
learned some of the planes of his body—the ones she could reach with her right
hand—and how interesting it was that he was a southpaw—he’d been inside her.
But now she wasn’t drugged.

Now
was the time to face the music.

The
music was awesome. Her Song flowed through her like the tide and she heard much
of it. She suspected others, he, heard more, nuances she didn’t recognize in
herself. But she heard his, the beating of his heart, now picking up pace as
they locked gazes. The melody of him ran in her head and her blood, and was now
a part of her.

This
stranger.

What
had she done?

“Shh,”
he said, expression serious. He reached out and smoothed her hair. She bit her
lip. Her hair must be a wreck, her body…she glanced down and saw the bruises
from the day before, the scars from the operations on Earth.

“Beautiful,”
he said, and there was a tone in his voice she’d never heard from any man, from
anyone. She understood the language. Alexa and Marian had told her she would,
but she hadn’t really believed it. Maybe she hadn’t really believed anything
and now she was married! Was there any way to go on disbelieving? The
steadiness of the man’s eyes made her think not.

She
licked her lips. “Marrec.” Memories called up by that name flooded her, not her
own. His mother saying it in a fretful tone, his father impatiently, his
brothers teasingly. Seeva. Yan. People who she’d never met but somehow knew
through him. And those she knew, Lady Hallard, Alexa, Bastien.

He
inclined his head. “Callista Mae Torcher.” Now his eyes shadowed as if he saw
her memories.

Calli
flopped back onto the bed, staring at the inside of the canopy. “What next?”
she said and was surprised to hear her voice speaking Lladranan. That was
really strange, too.

“Our
arms are bound together until this evening. I need to pee.”

Well,
that was down to earth enough, and now that he mentioned it…She sat up, didn’t
look at him. “If this suite is arranged the same way as Alexa’s, the bathroom
is to my right.” Meeting his gaze in a fleeting glance, she saw he still wore a
sober expression, realized she’d never seen him smile.

“I
smile,” he said.

She
looked at him. He wasn’t.

“When
appropriate,” he said.

That
made her smile.

His
lips slightly curved.

This
was her husband. She stared at him…rectangular face with a few lines around the
eyes, respectably wide silver at both temples that denoted Power…

“These
were narrow until your healing. I wasn’t very Powerful until then.” He touched
the side of his head.

“No?”
she whispered.

“No.
You should understand from your memories that you Pairbonded with a penniless
Chevalier, average in Power.” He swept the covers off himself, turned them both
until they faced the curved wall of the tower and the sectioned-off wedge of
wall that held the bathroom.

Lifting
her chin, she said, “I do not Pairbond with average men. I chose you. You have
Power. You have courage. Furthermore, you speak Equine with your volaran. He
respects you. All that means you are exceptional.”

“Does
it?”

“Yes.”

He
took the lead in getting off the bed. She admired his build, the width of his
shoulders, his muscularity, though he looked a bit too thin. He stood, waiting.
She took a big breath and shoved the covers aside and wished she could be more
casual about nudity.

“Beautiful
woman,” he said and lifted their joined arms to kiss her fingers. “Beautiful
Calli.” Naturally the way he said it, with his Lladranan accent, had her
trembling inside, but her pleasure at the compliment rose in a hum around them.
She stood still.

“Disconcerting,”
he said. “To hear Songs, our Songs, so strongly and with the ears and not only
the mind.”

“Yes,”
she said.

The
next few minutes in the bathroom as they relieved themselves and washed their
hands were horribly embarrassing to Calli, but Marrec was matter-of-fact about
it.

He glanced
at the wooden shower cabinet. “I prefer bathing.”

She
sighed. “I prefer showering.”

His
brows dipped. “I don’t know what facilities we have in our suite at Horseshoe
Hall. Probably only a shower, but the baths on the lowest level of the hall are
the best in the Castle.”

“Your
culture bathes together, men and women.”

“That’s
right.” He paused. “I have heard that both Alexa and Marian hesitate to do
this.”

“We
usually bathe alone in our culture. Or with lovers. Upon rare occasions we
might bathe with others of our own sex.” Once or twice when she’d been in
Denver during the National Western Stockshow she’d gone to a bathhouse during
Ladies’ Day. Nudity had been no big deal there. On the other hand, there had
also been a mixture of races. She was only one of three white females here in
Lladrana.

“What
next?”

He
met her eyes. “I’m hungry. We’ll probably eat with the Marshalls this morning.”
He frowned. “Though everyone may expect us to stay in.” His gaze traveled down
her and now he did smile. “We could stay in. Order breakfast in.”

Her
mind skittered. What would be running away? Staying here with this new man who
knew a lot about her now, and intimately, and hiding from the rest of the
almost-strangers she’d known for two days? Or not facing all that personal flow
of emotions, memories from her to him and vice versa by distracting herself
with food?

He
stroked her hair. “Or we could go bathe and choose land for our descendants.”

Her
eyes showed dread. One of her memories cycled between them again and again. Her
in a bed of white sheets, a man in a white coat. A medica. She couldn’t have
children anymore. Her fall and infection and surgeries had made that
impossible.

His
gasp was one of pain. The emotional blow was bitter. Stupid! Before last night
he’d had only vague dreams of children, since he could only support himself and
Dark Lance. But in the misty recesses of his mind, he’d wanted children. A boy.
A girl. A family.

She
got as far away from him as possible. Didn’t look at him, and he finally
noticed her grief.
She’d
wanted children, too. More, she’d had concrete
plans for them, had ideas to change her home and her business for them. She’d
thought out how to care for them and had hoped her children would love the land
and horse training—and her father—as much as she. She’d painted a rosy picture
of herself and her children and her father as a happy family, with her husband
as an indistinct but loving figure. Yet, she’d intended her children would be
her greatest comfort in life.

And
now she only had him. Definitely a husband. Not indistinct, not too loving. He
swallowed the bitterness. He was good at dealing with reality. “We can talk
about this later.”

Not
looking at him, she shook her head. “I think we should discuss it now.”

He
gritted his teeth. He’d have liked a little time. He shrugged. “All right.”

“I
still want a family,” she whispered, head averted. “Can’t we adopt?”

The
idea spun in his head like a pair of thrown dice in a game of high stakes.
“Adopt?”

“On
Exotique Terre there are unwanted children. Isn’t that true, here?”