The Awakened Mage (31 page)

He didn’t deserve her. Couldn’t believe he’d won her. What a courtship he’d endured…

She kissed him again. Soaring, he lost himself in sensation. Kissing was so much better than thinking. Or worrying. Or trying to come to grips with
Tevit’s Principles of Jurisprudence.
Who’d have thought a floor could feel so comfortable? Or a spare and angular body so soft? Kissing Dathne was a homecoming.

Breathing hard, they sat on the floor in tangled silence.

Then Dathne stirred. Her fingernails traced circles on his chest, raising goosebumps. “Do you know how we Olken married before the Doranen came?”

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “No.”

“We stood together, witness for each other. We declared our desire to be handfast and faithful. And we were married.”

“Just like that?”

She nodded. “Yes, my love. Just like that.”

My love.
Dizzy, he tilted her head back with a finger beneath her chin and gazed into her heavy-lidded eyes. “That were a long time ago, Dath. There were reasons things changed.”

She pouted. “I know, I know. Marriages need to be recorded, babies can’t be born willy-nilly. We must never outgrow the land we have here. But I’m not saying we won’t ever stand before a Barlsman, Asher. When you think our public happiness won’t hurt the king we can have our marriage entered in the registry. But why should we deny ourselves our private joy till then? If we were any other people, living anywhere else in Lur, we could marry in a heartbeat. I’m sorry for the king’s sorrow, truly, but why must we suffer because of it?”

Her words struck a deep chord. Unbidden, buried resentment stirred. Why indeed? He was already sacrificing so much for Gar. Risking so much. He deserved something in return, didn’t he? Some small spark of happiness. He and Dathne couldn’t live together of course. Not at first. Maybe not for months. Might only have a handful of stolen moments, like this one. But the moments would be theirs. Joy would be theirs. And in her arms he could mercifully, hopefully, forget his other, unjoyful secrets.

Harsh practicality doused his daydream. “But what about babies? You know there can’t be any babies, Dath, not until—”

“Hush,” she said, and pressed a finger to his lips. “Babies are women’s business. Leave that to me. We’ll have no babies till the time is right.”

Relieved, he gathered her close. “Even married, you know there’ll be things I can’t tell you. Private business ‘tween Gar and me that can’t go further. It don’t mean I ain’t mad in love with you. I am. Reckon I always have been. But—”

She kissed him. “I know. I understand.”

“And we’d have to be bloody careful. There’ll be folks around all the time. Noticin’ types like Darran and pissant Willer. They can’t suspect a thing. Can you hve a secret life like that?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I think so.”

He frowned, then. “And you can’t tell Matt either.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Matt’s the last person I’d want to tell.”

Jealousy stabbed. “So he
is
in love with you.”

“No.
No.
But he’d… disapprove. We’d argue. And this is my choice, not his.” She kissed him, hard. “Matt is a friend, Asher. You’re the only man who’s ever moved me.”

The simple declaration stunned him. “You really want to do this?”

Her answer was to break away from him. Bemused, he watched her lock the library door, pad to the fireplace and heave fresh logs into the dying flames, then retrieve a pale gold silk-weave scarf from the depths of her satchel.

“Hold out your hand,” she said, so he did. She sank to the carpet before him and matched his move, palm kissing palm, and laced her fingers with his. Then, frowning lightly, she bound their flesh together with the scarf. He said nothing, feeling giddy, feeling dreamlike. They were getting married.

The ritual binding complete, she sat on her heels and considered him. The heat of her hand was like magic in his blood. “I am Dathne Jodhay, a maid of good con science and unsullied name. I take this man, Asher, to be my husband and swear to him my love and loyalty until die.” She smiled then. “Your turn.”

“I am Asher of Restharven,” he replied. In his own ears his voice sounded … breathless. “I’m a man of good conscience and unsullied name, except if you ask Darran or Willer or Conroyd Jarralt and why would you? Dathne Jodhay is my woman, my wife, and if anybody looks so much as sideways at her I’ll knock their bloody bloc] off.”

Dathne was shaking with silent laughter. “Oh, Asher you’re such a romantic!”

“Sink romance,” he growled, and pulled her to him hard enough to make her gasp. “Are we married?”

“Oh yes,” she said, and toppled him to the floor. “We’re married.”

And then there was no more talking, as clothes peeled from flesh like shedding skin. Laughing, groaning their mutual needs, hands roamed, tongues touched, fingertips coaxed forth bonfires of delight.

Suddenly disconcerted, lost in a wilderness of pleasure Asher fumbled to a halt. Lifting his lips from her breast he gazed into her chaotic eyes. “Uh, Dath. You know ain’t never…”

More laughter. Wicked hands, holding. “It’s all right,” she promised him, trembling. “Neither have I. But I reckon we’ll work something out.”

The minute he laid eyes on them, Matt knew. Stepping back into the shadows between the stallion stables and the feed room, watching them creep into the stable yard like conspirators, he felt his heart turn over.

Dathne, Dathne, what have you done?

It was early yet, not quite a half-hour past dawn, and the lads were only just rousing from then beds. Smeary with sleep, he’d abandoned his own blankets nearly two hours ago to check on the gray colt, and stayed up to finish mending that broken bridle. To worry about Asher and the rift sprung up between them that he didn’t know how to close. Now his stomach was growling for breakfast and there was a pain behind his eyes and all he wanted was hot tea and sizzling bacon and a moment just to sit, and rest, and not think about anything.

What he
didn’t
want was another argument with Dathne. But now, having seen her, seen Asher, how could he stay silent? Pretend he’d not seen anything? She’d lost her mind. The strain of being Jervale’s Heir must’ve upset her judgement, tipped her right over the edge of reason. And while he owed loyalty to her, and paid the debt gladly, there was an even greater claim on his conscience. He had a duty to the Circle. To Prophecy.

And somebody had to save her, even if it was from herself.

They weren’t holding hands, not exactly. But their fingertips were touching as they tiptoed to the tack room and she was looking into his face with her unlocked heart in her eyes. He was grinning, happier than the City had eve seen him.

She waited as he slipped into the tack room and emerged a moment later with Cygnet’s saddle, saddle-cloth and bridle. The horse had recognized his step and was hanging over its stable door, ears pricked, nostrils fluttering a welcome. He saddled up and she draped herself over the door, watching. Giggling softly.
Dathne?
It was hard to believe. When he was done, she swung open the door for him and stood aside as he led Cygnet into the yard.

“Ride carefully now,” she admonished him, her voice hushed. “The kingdom needs its Olken Administrator in one piece.” Her hand was on his arm. There was something terrifyingly possessive about the simple gesture. She smiled, her expression wicked and suggestive and heartbreakingly intimate. “And so do I.”

His hand slid round her waist, down to her hips, down even lower, and he pulled her to him with a grunt of satisfaction.

“Stop fratchin’ at me,” he said. “Cygnet and me’ve been out early every morning this week and ain’t come to harm. It’s the only time I get to m’self these days, and I ain’t about to give it up.” He nipped at the soft skin between her jaw and throat. “Not even for you.”

Their kiss was molten, passion unleashed. Matt watched it, despairing. There wasn’t enough common sense in all the kingdom to douse this. When they parted Dathne stepped back, unsteady on her feet, and Asher was flushed.

“Now get away from me, woman,” he said, throwing the reins over Cygnet’s head, “afore I go off like a rocket. I’ll see you back at the Tower sharp at nine.”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s the rest of Tevit to get through today.”

“Sink Tevit and his bloody
Principles of Jurisprudence”
said Asher, grinning. He swung himself into Cygnet’s saddle and sat there, staring down at her. “I love you.”

“And I you,” she replied. “Now go if you’re going. Matt and the lads will be downstairs any minute.”

She watched him ride out of the yard, then turned to leave through the main entrance’s archway. Her face was shuttered again, closed down and self-contained. Matt took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows.

“Dathne.”

Startled into silence she stared at him. Then: “Matt. You’re about early. And stealthy, too. You should mind where you creep, my friend. You might give some poor soul a seizure.”

Closing on her, he took her upper arm in his callused fingers. “Are you mad, Dathne? Have you abandoned all sense?
You’re futtering
with him?”

She jerked her arm from his grasp, glaring. “I’m married with him. It’s not futtering when you’re married, Matt.”

“You’re
married..
.” Speech failed him. Aghast he looked at her, this sudden stranger, and struggled to find the words.
“Dathne—”

The door leading up to the staff dormitory flew open and the chattering stable lads tumbled into the yard. “Not out here,” she said grimly, and stalked to the office. He followed her inside and closed the door behind them.

“You’re married with him,” he said, despair reducing his voice to a whisper. “Does Veira know?”

“Not yet.”

“Why,
Dathne?” he asked her. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I had to. Because I need him bound to me, body and soul. He’s holding something back, Matt. Something important. I must know what it is.”   ~

He collapsed into the office’s dilapidated armchair and rubbed his hands across his face. “You
are
mad. You told Asher you loved him, Dathne. I heard you.”

Her cheeks tinted pink. “That conversation was private.”

“Dathne! Love won’t save you when he finds out you’ve used him!” Outrage and dismay churning through him, he pushed to his feet and began pacing the small office. Outside in the yard the horses were neighing and banging their stable doors, demanding breakfast The lads laughed and joked, gravel crunching beneath their boots and buckets rattling as they crisscrossed from feed room to stables and back again. “When did you marry?”

She was watching him closely, chin up, arms folded across her chest. “Last night.”

“Who witnessed? Holze?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before she answered “Nobody.”

“Nobody?”
he said, incredulous. “You mean you just exchanged vows with each other? No Barlsman? Whose crazy idea was that?”

The heat in her cheeks deepened. “Mine.”

He wanted to scream. Stamp. Throw mugs at the wall and watch them shatter. “Of course it was. Dathne, you^?^re a fool! If there wasn’t a Barlsman then you
aren ‘t
married and it
is
futtering and if anybody finds out—”

“They’ll only find out if you tell them!” she retorted.

“Save your breath, Matt. It’s done and you can’t undo it. And I was right. Whatever he’s hiding, he almost told me last night.”

“Before or after you futtered him?” he said bitterly.

She slapped him, hard enough to burst stars before his eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

His face throbbed, but he ignored the pain. “You say I’m your compass, but what good’s a compass if you don’t follow its directions? Ever since he came here I’ve said he should be told.”

“And he will be!”

“But only when it’s too late! After this, after what you’ve done, when he finds out the truth he’ll spit on you and walk away!”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he
will.
He’ll walk away and Prophecy will fail and our lives will’ve been for
nothing!
”

There was fear in her face now, crowding out her defiant anger. “You’re wrong. He understands duty, Matt. And sacrifice. He wouldn’t be the Innocent Mage if he didn’t!”

“He may be the Innocent Mage, Dathne, but he’s also a man! He’s a man before he’s anything else, and if you think a man can so easily forgive this kind of betrayal then it wouldn’t matter if you’d futtered a
hundred
Ashers, you’d still be an ignorant girl!”

He was ready for her this time and caught her wrist before her hand reached his face.

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice a deadly whisper.

“Dathne—”

“No!”
Her eyes were glittering. “It’s over, Matt. You’re no use to me any more. I’m telling Veira you’ve stepped aside. Can I trust you’ll hold your tongue? Say yes. You must know by now there’s nothing I won’t do in the service of Prophecy.”

“No,” he whispered back. “Nothing. Not even strumpeting yourself.”

The office door swung open and in walked Asher, talking all the while. “You in here, Matt? There’s half a tree come down on the fence round Crooked Paddock and all the three year olds are out. Thought I’d best ride back and warn you, seein’—” He stopped, all friendliness freezing. “What’s goin’ on? Dathne?”

Before she could answer, Matt turned on him. “And
you
! Are you as mad as she is? You’re the Olken Administrator! Don’t you know what scandal there’ll be if you’re found to be futtering out of wedlock with your assistant? Not even the king will save you then!”

Incredulous, Asher stared at Dathne. “You
told
him?”

“He saw us.”

“No, he didn’t,” said Asher, and slammed the office door. “He didn’t see nowt. He don’t know nowt. And if he values his bones unbroken he’ll let go of you right now.”

Matt released Dathne’s wrist and stared at the livid white marks his fingers left on her flesh. ‘Tell him you made a mistake, Dathne. Please. Tell him everything.”

“What everything?” said Asher. His expression was ugly. “What’s he on about, Dath?”