Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (48 page)

“This is not—” His mouth snapped shut. His teeth were going to crack under the pressure one of these days, Nora was sure of it. “Give me your hand.”

She slapped her hand into his with a clap. He caught her wrist and pulled the rest of her toward him. His skin was hot to her touch. Her own bare skin prickled as a shot of warmth plunged downward, deep into her. If he looked away from her face, he’d see her hard nipples through her chafing cotton breast band. He kept his eyes up, though. A true gentleman.

“There is something you should know about me,” he said. “Let me show you.”

“All right,” she laughed, a little out of breath.

He clasped her hand to his chest, over his heart, holding it there with his hands. She felt his heart beating slowly. She felt his skin against the sweating palm of her hand. She felt his chest rise and fall with his every breath. She felt…nothing else.

“And? Is it good for you?” she asked.

He frowned. “I was sure this would work.”

“Well, your heart’s just fine if you wanted to know.”

He shook his head as one hand dropped to his side. He gave her a look she knew from sword practice. It was a calculating look—the one he would give her before dealing out a blow to test if she could meet it. In this context, though…it wasn’t a sword he was holding. She bit her lower lip.

His thumb caressed her fingertips.

Her breath faltered. Eyes locked onto his, they stepped even closer, her free hand brushing against one of his scars, just above his hip. Her fingertips ran along the visible part of the jagged semicircle that stood out from his skin like a line of white sugar among brown. The curved scar started below his ribs and must end somewhere below his hip. She looked down briefly.

“Where did you get this? Sawmill blade?”

“I got it here, in the arena.” He followed her fingertips with his gaze. His breath was warm and ticklish on her cheek. “A fighter with a curved Nessan blade nearly got the better of me. But he wouldn’t even have come close if I hadn’t been distracted by—”

He drew in breath audibly.

Nora winced as his hand curled into a fist around hers, squashing the bones together.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, trying to keep the smile from her mouth. “Distracted by?”

“No.” He pushed her away, staggering back a step.

His heels knocked against the mountain of pillows and cushions that made up the bed. Diaz, the fearsome warrior master Diaz, stumbled and, after rowing with his arms for a moment, fell back.

Nora crossed her arms before her breasts, trying to ignore the wet dribble that began to run down her thigh as he moaned, bedded before her, biting his lower lip. She closed her eyes, struggling to ban the image she knew would appear uninvited over and over again. When she opened her eyes once more, his hands were clutching the pillows as though bracing himself for great pain…or great pleasure.

Then she saw what he had meant to show her and gasped. “What the hell is that?”

Black imprints of hands moved under his skin as he squirmed. As though made of charcoal dust, they ran in pairs all over his body, smooth across his scarred chest, caressing his cheek, smoky fingers touching him inside and out. He pushed himself up to his elbows.

“You see it now?”

“It’s Suranna?”

He nodded, his face turned away, letting her see a dark hand stroking down his neck. Gods, she hated that bitch.

“It’s powerful ancient magic.” He swallowed hard, voice breaking. “I thought it was terribly romantic at the time, letting myself be bound to her. We belonged together forever. That’s what I thought, anyway. Turns out she thought otherwise. Such is life. That’s how it goes, isn’t it?”

Shock ripped through Nora. He had repeated what she had told him on Solstice. His black eyes were watching her face intently. She carefully kept her expression as neutral as she could and, oh crap—so that’s what he felt like all the time!

“Is it two-way?” Nora asked. “Can you—”

“No.”

“Idiot.”

He laughed through his nose, but nodded.

“Well, can you break the spell?” Nora wondered.

“It was woven with the power of one of the ancient treasures of the gods.”

“Means no, then.”

One shadow hand was inching slowly down to the rim of his trousers. He laid his own hand over it as it crawled on downward. So she wouldn’t see. He couldn’t stop the smoking trail under his skin. He licked his lips.

“Only magic stronger than the one used to make it can undo the spell. That’s why I need Bashan to find the Blade. It’s my hope that he’ll grant me freedom from the curse for my help in finding the Blade.”

“But he’ll never release you from service to him afterward.”

“It’s like Talitha said.” Diaz pressed his arm to his abdomen as he rose—as though wounded. “I don’t know how she knew. I can choose slavery to Suranna or servitude to Bashan.”

“Gods, Diaz.” Nora shook her head.

“Bashan won’t live as long as I will. And he is malleable to a certain extent. And every wielder of the Blade has died by their own hand after only a few years. So my term will be short.”

The shadow hands took his body into their possession and, with a sudden sweep, disappeared into his pants. He made a strangled sound and squeezed Nora’s shoulder tightly.

“You should go now.” His hoarse voice sounded like gravel. “Go.”

He pushed her toward the door.

“It’s not fair,” Nora said, grabbing hold of his wrist. “I want to stay. With you. I could help. Maybe. I want to.”

She made to touch him, but he pulled away, shoving her roughly against the wooden door at arm’s length. Nora was breathless. The sight of the hands all over him made the blood pound hard in her temples.

“I, I want you,” she corrected after a moment’s hesitation.

He swore in his own language, then bowed his head. His shoulders shook. Was he laughing? At her? Her cheeks were hot. His hand snaked around her waist as he looked into her eyes. Then he shivered as one of the shadow hands reappeared and traced the outline of his lips before sinking back below his waistline. He suppressed a moan and tightened his grip.

“Where were the two of you when I was seventeen?”

His eyes were on her mouth as he lowered his head. She leaned into his embrace, her knees weak. Her lips were but a hairbreadth away from his, but he then stopped. He tossed his head far back, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“I cannot.”

“Please. Diaz. Just one kiss.”

He looked down into her eyes, lips opening.

“Please,” she repeated.

“All heartbreak starts with just one kiss,” he breathed. “Forgive me. I do not want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, you wo—whoa.”

The door opened behind her and a falling sensation took hold of her instead. When she sat back up, hip aching from the improvised roll, she saw the door close before her.

Then she heard the sound of the lock.

Then she realized Diaz had shut her out.

She jumped to her feet as the window shutters were closed from within, barring entry.

“You!” she screamed at the door. “You fucking half-wight. Open this door right now and I’ll kill you!”

“Don’t you mean ‘or’?” a voice said behind her.

Nora turned and scowled at a woman and her lover passing by. “Fuck off!”

She kicked the door and nearly broke her toes doing so. The pain flooded her with red rage, and she found herself pummeling the door with her fists.

“Open the door this instant, Diaz. I won’t let you just meditate this off, asshole. Open the fucking door.”

“Is there a problem, my lady?”

The voice from behind sounded amused. Nora whipped around and saw a small group, gathered to see what the commotion was about. At the head of the crowd were two guards, leaning casually against their spears.

“Is there a problem?” one of them repeated.

“No, of course not. Everything is just fine. Thank you very much for asking.”

“I’m afraid you’re disturbing the queen’s peace. I must ask you to quiet down.”

“Oh, the queen’s peace, eh? I’m sorry, but right now, do you know what I say to the queen’s fucking peace?”

“If you don’t calm down, my lady, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.”

Nora opened her mouth to say something wickedly rude but then stopped herself.

“Actually,” she said loudly, “I think that’s an excellent idea. Yes. I’d like an audience with the queen, please.”

The guards chuckled.

“The queen’s busy right now,” one of them said.

And I know with whom
, Nora thought darkly.

“I’ll wait,” she said.

And then I’ll tear out her fucking spine and dance around with her entrails
, she thought. And smiled.

M
aster Telen Diaz sat cross-legged
in the middle of the red-walled room and meditated. Or at least he tried to. Palms open, eyes closed, he went deep within and far without, concentrating on a ball of white healing light, his own energy condensed in his mind to a pulsing sphere. It wasn’t much. But he had found that full meditation in the proximity of the queen was the soul equivalent of lowering the drawbridge and destroying the outer walls. What was meant to guard him, to protect him, was instead ripped wide open, allowing her entry into his deepest being.

So he concentrated on the white sphere, imagining ice-cold mountaintops and wading through hip-high snow. She couldn’t reach him here. No one could. He found a quantum of solace in that.

He heard the knock on the door and ignored it, deeply breathing in the scent of snow. Focus on the light. The white, clean, blank slate. Nothing to be seen. No one here.

“Do you smell the snow?” Nora asked. Her red lips parted. “I want you.”

There was the knock again. He gritted his teeth as the white ball faded, grayed into the dim light of the room.

Concentrate on the light. Choose a different setting. He took a deep breath. He was walking the high north, the endless wastes of the Wightingerode, the cold sunlight reflecting silver on the water that came up to his knees. No one was here. He was alone.

“Master Diaz? Are you there?” A man’s voice came from the other side of the door.

With a sigh, Diaz gave up and got up.

Two guards stood before the door and snapped to attention when he opened it. The front guard bowed his head.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, master. But there has been…an incident with your…apprentice.” The guard smacked his lips at the practiced words. “You should come immediately.”

Diaz closed his eyes. It wasn’t Nora’s fault. He should have done something to hinder her acting on her impulses. Should have done something
else,
rather, but what? Doing something with her was what was out of the question.

“Where is she?”

“In the throne room.”

Ah. It would be faster and less painful if he just impaled himself on his sword now. Instead he gritted his teeth and inclined his head.

“I shall come,” he told the guard.

He followed the two guards to the throne room entrance and waited as they opened the golden doors. Beyond it was pitch black. He heard a moan and instinctively stepped inside the darkness.

He shuddered slightly, a sense of dizziness holding him fast as his eyes adapted to the dense gloom, pupils widening in a second. The doors closed behind him, shutting out the last of the natural light. The black lightened fast, became washed-out shades of midnight, like a charcoaler’s clothing. A red flame flickered in a brazier in the middle of the room, before the throne, but he could make out no other light source. Odd.

Diaz saw Nora, illuminated by nothing but the brazier, struggling between two men, guards. He groaned inwardly. She hung by her arms, which one of the guards was tying together behind her, still wearing nothing but her breast band and a pair of loose trousers. He saw her muscles flex as she kicked out at the other guard, mad with helpless fury. The three had not yet noticed his entry. One of the guards slapped the girl around the face.

Diaz’s hand automatically moved to his belt, to the hilt of his sword…that wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. It was still back in the room. Why should he have thought to take it? He felt the anger rise in him and didn’t try to push it back down. He wouldn’t need a sword for this.

“Do that again,” Nora said quietly, calmly, and full of hatred, “and I will fucking kill you.”

Her black hair hung in locks before her face, and her cheek sported a red welt. Her eyes shone fiercely.

“Vixen,” the guard laughed. “Make sure to tie her up tightly.”

“Legs, too?”

“No,” the first guard said slowly with a smile. “Maybe we can have some fun while we wait.”

He reached out fast. Nora turned her head away, bracing for more punishment, as his hand grabbed her breast band and pulled it down. Nora curled together, trying to hide the flash of pink nipples.

Diaz charged.

He tackled Nora to the ground, and his hands closed around her neck. She bucked beneath him in fear and her eyes grew wide.

“Master Diaz! What…?”

“Change,” he growled.

The guards disappeared, vanished into smoking wraiths.