Untouchable (20 page)

If he truly loved her, she might be tempted to say yes to his ridiculous proposal, even though it would mean sharing a small house with eight people for a while and doing without all the fine things to which she’d become accustomed. It also meant not being empress. If what he felt for her was true and not magically manufactured, she might change her name to Anya or Felyciny, or Leisa—well, not Felyciny, even though that was a common enough name. Anya or Leisa was more elegant and appropriate.

What on earth was she thinking? She was actually considering choosing a
false
name!

“I can’t let my parents think I’m dead,” she said as she hurried to catch up with him. “And I really should tell someone that Wallis tried to murder me. He should not be allowed to get away with such an atrocious act.”

“You’re right, of course,” Laris said, even though he didn’t sound as if he believed she was right at all.

“But...”

Laris turned and looked down at her. “But what?”

“But we really don’t have to rush toward Arthes. I was told the emperor would make his choice on the first night of the Summer Festival, which is weeks away.”

“What are you saying?”

“The next time my legs begin to hurt, perhaps we could just stop for a while.” She glanced off the road to the gentle hills in the distance. “And perhaps we could veer from the path on occasion so I can see more of this lovely province. It’s very different from home.”

“What of informing your parents of your survival and informing the emperor that Wallis tried to kill you?”

“I doubt that Wallis will send word to my parents immediately, especially as there is no body to send home. And as to the other, well, justice will be served, but I don’t know why it can’t
wait
.”

Laris smiled a little, and Verity reached out to take his hand in her own.

THE
riders, three of them, came around the corner at a gallop, but reacted well when they saw Sanura standing in their path—just as Trystan had suspected they would. One rider veered to her left, the other to the right, and the man in the middle pulled on his horse’s reins and reared back, barely missing her. The horse’s hooves came very near her face. In that moment, Trystan’s heart seemed to stop. He allowed his attention to stray from the riders and move entirely to Sanura. It was a luxury which could not last long.

As the rider in the middle of the road tried to bring his horse under control, he fell off and hit the road hard, much to the amusement of his companions.

The three men were armed, but did not wear the uniforms of sentinels. They were bearded and large and dirty, and wore mismatched clothing, some pieces finely made and others desperately in need of repair.

Mercenaries or highwaymen, then, searching for their next victims.

Trystan remained hidden in the shadows of the forest, taking a moment to size up his opponents. After a few seconds he could tell which was the strongest and which was the smartest, and which was so slow he could be saved for last.

Sanura opened her eyes as one of the men, the smart one, dismounted and walked toward her with an angry leer on his face. “Woman, what on earth are you doing standing in the middle of the road? Didn’t you hear us coming? Don’t you have the sense the One God gave a toad? He reared his hand back as if to strike her, and that was when Trystan made his move. He tossed his dagger with precision. It flew through the air and landed, as intended, in the man’s raised hand.

The man who had thought to strike Sanura screamed and clutched at his wounded hand as Trystan leaped from the shadows.

His first opponent was the one who had fallen from his horse—the strongest of the three, by Trystan’s estimation. The man wielded a short-bladed sword that had not been properly cared for. He swung it with verve and strength but very little skill.

The last rider to remain horsed—the slow one— dismounted to see to his squealing, wounded companion. That one was a follower, not a leader. He was a man who did as he was told when he was told, and did not tax himself with making decisions.

Out of the corner of his eye Trystan saw the man who’d thought about hitting Sanura yank the dagger from his hand, grab her, and begin to shout.

The rider who fought Trystan made a mad stab with his blade, and Trystan skillfully finished him off with a single thrust.

Two to one was much better odds. Trystan turned to face the man who held Sanura, and he smiled. “Thieves or mercenaries?” he asked crisply.

The smart one held Trystan’s bloody dagger to Sanura’s throat. “What is it to you?”

“I wish to steal or purchase your fallen comrade’s horse, as he no longer has need of it and I do, and I’m wondering if I’ll have to kill all three of you in order to make that happen. Thieves I can bargain with. Mercenaries are likely to need killing.”

“In that case, we’re thieves.”

“Good to know. If we’re going to bargain, you can release the woman.” Something deep inside him
did not
like seeing that blade at Sanura’s throat. One smooth and relatively minor motion, and she’d be dead. He had threatened to kill her himself, and still might, but she would die by his hand—no other’s.

“I don’t think it would be wise to release her just yet,” the man who held Sanura said. “You put a dagger through my hand, and it hurts! You also killed my cousin. By rights, I should kill your woman in return.”

They called her
his
, and she was. Bound as she was, beautiful as she was, she was obviously a possession which could be bartered just as the horse was.

“My dagger could’ve gone through your heart or your throat, so you should not hold your wound against me. As to the other, he was your cousin, eh?”

“Not a favorite cousin, mind you,” the knife-wielding thief said. “Lucky for you.”

“How much for the horse?” Trystan asked. “Your cousin isn’t going to need it anymore, and I do.”

The thief looked at his fallen cousin, at the horse, and then at Sanura. “I’ll trade you for the woman. She’s pretty, and I haven’t bedded a pretty woman in a long time. Is she agreeable?”

“Very,” Trystan said in a flat voice.

“Does she have a name?”

“Call her whatever you’d like. It matters not.” He did not want to tell the man that her name was Sanura. The name was for him alone, not for one such as this.

The wounded man looked at his hand and grimaced. It was still bleeding, but was far from fatal. “I’m not sure a woman is enough in trade for all that you have done.”

Trystan smiled tightly. “This one is, I promise you. She begs for sex now and then, she likes it so well, and when she finds her pleasure, she screams loud enough to shake the walls around you, or the trees, if you have no walls. She will make you glad to be a man, and before you’re finished with her, you will have forgotten all about your wounded hand and your cousin.”

Sanura glared at him, hurt and angry and wishing him dead, no doubt.

“An unlikable cousin and a horse for such a woman seems like a fair enough trade,” the thief said with a grin. “But if she is so wonderful, why would you let her go?” He was a suspicious man. As he was untrustworthy, he likely could not trust anyone else.

“I’m done with her,” Trystan said simply. “She’s been good fun on this journey, but I can’t very well take her home with me.”

The man who held Sanura nodded as if he understood. Perhaps he imagined that there was a wife waiting at home, a wife who would not be pleased to see one such as Sanura. “It’s a deal, then.”

Trystan sheathed his weapon in a show of surrender and agreement. “Done.”

Sanura blinked hard, and her eyes went wide. Was she relieved or horrified that he would leave her here? He could not tell, and he wanted very badly to know what she was thinking right now.

He took a step toward Sanura and the man who held her. The knife did seem to slip a little from her throat. “It’s not a bad trade for either of us,” he said. “You’ve lost a cousin but gained a delightful woman, and I’ll be able to ride the rest of the way home. I’m damned tired of walking.”

He took another step, and the thief moved the dagger to a more ready position once again. “Stop where you are.”

“I only wish to kiss the woman in farewell. She really has been quite pleasing. In many ways, I will miss her.”

“You’ll get no kiss. Take your horse and leave before I change my mind and kill you so I can have the horse and the woman.”

Trystan held both hands up, and he smiled. “Fine. There’s always another woman down the road to kiss.” He stepped backward and locked eyes with Sanura. “Sorry, love. I need the horse more than I need you.”

Trystan stepped over the man he had killed and hoisted himself into the saddle. When he was well seated in the unfamiliar saddle, he gave Sanura a casual wave of his hand, and then he turned toward Arthes. He spurred the horse onward and rounded the corner, moving out of sight and racing down the road.

SHE
had never thought to be sorry to see Trystan ride away, but these men who now held her—they were worse. They had killed on many occasions, when killing had not been necessary, and the one who held her liked to hurt his women. He would make her pay for the wound Trystan had delivered, if he got the chance.

It looked as if he would get that chance. Trystan had traded her for a horse! He had left her with these nefarious men, knowing what they were and what they wanted, telling them that she would
beg
for sexual favor.

Alix would care, but Trystan did not.

The wounded man ordered her to remain still as he released her and studied his bleeding hand. He still held Trystan’s dagger in his unmarked hand, but the other was all but worthless, and would be until it had healed. She took a step back toward the forest, but her smallest motion caught the man’s attention and he threatened to hurt her if she moved again.

Hurt her, not kill her.

She had fallen so very low. No longer treasured, no longer revered, no longer protected. Maybe that dagger in the back would be better than what awaited her. Maybe death would be better than to be given to one such as this. Sanura wanted to scream at the horrible man that she would rather be dead than continue to live this way, but it was not true. She wanted to live.

She heard the approaching horse before she saw it. Trystan rode into view, his sword drawn and held high, his hair flying behind him. He was not smiling as he cut down the man who had already been wounded, and then the other—a man so stunned by Trystan’s appearance he didn’t have time to draw his own weapon more than halfway out of its sheath.

They were just a few feet away, and the commotion was so great, the screams so gut-wrenching, that Sanura dropped to the ground and covered her face with her arms. She did not want to see or hear as Trystan cut down the highwaymen. She did not want to see more blood, even though it flowed from unworthy men. She had seen enough blood to suit her since coming to this land.

“I want to go home,” she whispered. “Gods above help me, I want to go home.” As the screams fell silent, she added, “I want Alix.”

As the horse’s hooves moved closer, she dropped her arms from her face and looked up. Oddly calm, Trystan sat his horse and looked down at her. He offered her his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she stood and took it. Trystan lifted her easily and plopped her down in front of him, in a sideways position which was uncomfortable and unnatural but oddly steady. When she was seated securely, he slipped the blade of his sword between her wrists and cut the bonds which had restrained her for so many days.

Once he had returned that sword to its sheath, he turned the horse away from the bodies and took off at a moderate speed. “Did you think I would really give you away?”

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“I’m far from finished with you, Sanura,” he admitted, and she could tell that the words were grudgingly said. Trystan did not wish to need anything or anyone.

For a moment she detected a light within him, just as she had once detected the darkness within Alix. Confused and agitated, that light struggled—as did the shadows. In that moment she knew the truth. Neither Alix or Trystan would ever win this battle. The struggle would continue for the rest of their days, dark and light vying for control.

No, the battle was not theirs, it was
his
.

She placed one palm against the side of a beard-roughened face, leaned in, and kissed the man who held her. For Alix, for the light, for not being able to allow those men to hurt her, she kissed him. The meeting of their mouths was brief, and took him by surprise.

“What was that for?” he asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.

“For saving me,” she said simply.

He laughed harshly. “My intentions were not noble, so I hardly deserve your thanks.”

She understood his intentions better than he did, and it was all becoming so clear to her. “You love me.”

Again he laughed, but the sound seemed more forced this time. “I love no one,” he said after the laughter died. “I took you back because you are mine. I own you as you were meant to be owned, I possess you as you were intended to be possessed. I would’ve just as ardently retrieved a horse or a sword, if I saw either of them in unworthy hands.”

He spurred the horse to a gallop, and she held on tight. If she screamed, he would hear her, but she needed time to think. How best to save this man? How best to repair the damage she had done?

How best to love him?

TRYSTAN’S
control was tight, if not complete, and Sanura knew she could not seduce him unless he wished to be seduced. He could not be tricked, and subtleties were wasted on him. She could not lie to get what she wanted, she could not pretend.

That left the truth, which was stark and painful, but also unexpectedly beautiful and full of hope.

Though he wished to race to Arthes, they did make camp for the night. Trystan was not taking any chances with the precious horse he’d killed to take, so there would be no pushing the animal, and no racing down dark paths where unseen obstacles might—and surely would—lurk.

This might be the last night they spent alone, the last night before they reached the palace and Trystan became the emperor who’d murdered his brother to take the throne. After that happened, would Alix retreat completely? Would he bury himself deep and stay there?

Trystan built a fire and cared for the horse. There had been hard bread and dried meat in the saddlebags of the horse he’d taken, and the meager meal seemed like a feast after too many days of foraging for their sustenance. They shared their meager rations in strained silence.

When Trystan took the bedroll which had also been a part of their bounty and laid it upon the ground for their bed, he did not threaten Mali or bind Sanura’s hands and feet. He knew she would not run. He knew that she was his.

Before he could recline upon the rough blanket, she forced herself to stand before him and take his face in her hands. She did not tremble; she did not waver, even though the eyes which stared down at her were dark and unpredictable.

“I love you,” she said simply.

Trystan sighed. “Good Lord, woman, are you trying to seduce me again?”

His sharp tone did not deter her. “No. I don’t need to join with you in order to see who and what you are. I see all of you. I love all of you. Trystan and Alix, darkness and light, killer of thieves and noble prince—you are
one
and I love you no matter which part of your soul is stronger at this moment.”

“You’re confused,” he said softly.

Sanura raked her fingers across his rough cheek. “No, for the first time since I met you, I am not at all confused. I don’t understand how it happened, I don’t know why you are two, but I do see. Your goodness is not without shadows, and your darkness is not without love. Threaten and glare all you want, I know you will not hurt me.”

She went up on her toes and kissed him as she had that afternoon, softly and without demand. “There is no more need to hide from me, because I see all of you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I will call you Alix or Trystan or whatever else you might wish. It does not matter. Perhaps I was given to your brother, but that was a lifetime ago and I am now yours. In ways I cannot begin to understand, I have always been yours.”

He caught her up in his arms and lifted her off her feet, and he kissed her hard. His tongue speared into her mouth, and he parted her lips wide as he devoured her. She threaded her fingers in his hair and held on, kissing him back, giving as much as she took.

She felt it when the moment came that he gave over completely, when whatever within him fought his love for her lost the battle. He laid her on the blanket and kissed her again. Sanura could not remember ever being swept away quite like this. Trystan or Alix, she did love him. Trystan or Alix, he did love her.

For the first time, she made love without consciously using her gift. There was no search for more, no sought-after connection at the pit of her soul. Trystan undressed her, taking care not to tear her plain hand-me-down dress. He undressed himself with haste but not with frenzy. Bare body to bare body there was connection, but it was of a man and a woman, not of a gifted slave of the Agnese and he who possessed her.

Alix had made love to her; Trystan had made love to her. The instant he entered her, she knew this was different. This was both—no, that was wrong. This was Prince Alixandyr the whole man, good and bad, noble and wicked. She did not reach to grasp his desires or to know more of who he was or what he wanted from her, but the knowledge was there, flowing through her like the ocean before a storm, strong and sure and beautiful.

Fractured
. The word teased her.
Broken.
Alix’s word to describe himself and the darkness which he fought.
Endless
, to define the battle he fought every day.

And then it all went away and there was nothing but the way their bodies came together, the way the stroke and the press and the frenzy made her feel. They were skin and breath and sweat and heartbeat, they were need and love and possession, and then they were release. They were pleasure. They were screams and moans that sounded in the lonely black of the forest.

And neither of them was alone. They had both been so lonely, so isolated in their lives, but no more. Never again.

The body above hers stiffened and withdrew, but with an easy arm she pulled him back to her. “Do not be afraid of me,” she whispered. “I have not seen anything which I did not already know, and even if I had, I will not hurt you. I will not hurt any part of you.”

“Don’t care about me, Sanura. When I’m done with you, when I don’t need you anymore, I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t,” she said confidently. “A part of you might wish to kill me, a part of you might want to be free of all that I see, all that I know, but even that part loves me.”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” he said.

“No, I’m very sure of
you
, Trystan or Alix or whatever you wish to call yourself. You do treasure me, even when my very presence maddens you. You do want me, even when you know such wanting is not wise. You do love me, just as I love you.”

He looked her in the eye. The light of the fire was not enough for her to see the color of his eyes well, but she knew they remained dark, at least for now. “I have fought too long for what I want to allow a woman to ruin it all.”

“I will ruin nothing,” she said confidently.

“My plans have not changed. When we reach Arthes, I’m going to kill Jahn and take the throne.”

She did not think so, but now was not the time to argue. “If you insist.”

“I’m going to take all those things which the one you call Alix would not take.”

“Will you take me?” she asked, lifting his hips to bring them closer once again.

“Yes.”

Sanura pressed her lips against his neck and tasted his sweat. She flicked her tongue there and suckled his skin and wrapped her legs around his. “Good. Tonight nothing else matters.”

THEY
had found a narrow path which led them east of Arthes. No matter how many detours they took, no matter how often they stopped to rest or to admire the scenery, eventually they would come to the capital city. That knowledge weighed upon Verity every day and every night.

She could not sleep, even though Laris was close to her, offering her his magnificent warmth, and she’d walked more than she’d been carried today. She should’ve fallen into an exhausted sleep long ago, but her mind was spinning mercilessly.

It was so completely unfair that she could fall in love with a sentinel! Why could she not have fallen in love with a rich merchant or a prince or even the emperor himself? Why did she have to defy her own destiny to be the wife of a great man? No, she had to fall in love with a sentinel who had no money, no home of his own, no jewels to give her, no position of power, no land. All he had were strong hands which protected her, strong arms which had saved her life, sweet eyes which spoke of the magical love with which she had poisoned him, sweet lips which she was dying to taste.

She would be tempted to take him up on his offer of a new life, if not for the fact that his love for her wasn’t real. Tears stung her eyes. She had done a few selfish things in her lifetime, that was true, but she’d never done anything as horrible as this!

Her sniffling woke him.

“What’s wrong?” Laris asked, his voice sleepy.

“I’m a terrible person,” Verity said in a small voice.

He pulled her close and laughed sleepily. “You are not,” he said with confidence.

“I am,” she insisted. “You just don’t know...”

His hand settled in her hair. “You’re spoiled and funny and beautiful and naïve and overly ambitious, but you are not a terrible person.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep. Morning will be here too soon.”

If she didn’t tell him now, she might never again find the nerve. While he held her, while it was too dark to see his face and the shocked reaction he would no doubt have...“I gave you a love potion!” she said quickly. “That’s why you risked your life for me, that’s why you hold my hand and why you sneaked into my tent all those nights before Wallis tried to kill me, it’s why you’re so nice to me. I tricked you! I gave you a witch’s potion to make you love me.”

His body stiffened, but he did not push her away. Not yet. “When did this happen?”

She hid her face against his chest, expecting him to push her away at any moment, now that he knew the truth about her. “The day we left home, I brought you a cup of cider. It was not just cider,” she added with a sigh.

“Oh, that,” Laris said, relaxing once again.

“Oh, that?” she said, sitting up to look down at his dim figure. She had basically poisoned him with a magical elixir meant to serve her own purposes, and he was so besotted he didn’t even see the wrongness of her actions! “Oh, that? Is that all you have to say? I did a terrible thing to you, I tricked you and used you and you just say, Oh,
that
?”

He gently pulled her back down to him. “You’re worrying about nothing, Verity. Maybe you gave me a love potion, but I didn’t drink it.”

“What?” Her heart skipped a beat. “But I saw you.”

“You saw me put the cup to my lips. The cider stunk, thanks to the potion, I suppose, so I pretended to take a drink, and when you turned your back, I dumped it all onto the ground.”

Verity rose up again. “Why didn’t you just tell me it stunk and you wouldn’t drink it?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Why not?”

Laris sighed and sat up. “Because I already loved you, that’s why. Because you were, and still are, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and I didn’t want to say or do anything to dim the brightness of your smile.” He reached out and touched her face gently. “Why me? Why didn’t you give the potion to one of the others?”

She could lie and tell him that he’d been closest, the most convenient, but she didn’t want to lie to him, no matterhow embarrassing it might be. “You were by far the most handsome of all the sentinels, and you have such a lovely smile, and on the second day after you arrived, I saw you speaking to the cook’s son, who is not so very bright, and you were kind to him.”

“You chose me,” he said.

“I did.” They lay back down in the dark, and once again Laris held her. Her heart felt so much lighter, she could not stop the smile that spread across her face. Whatever he felt for her, it was real, like her own feelings. He had not saved her because he was under the influence of magic, but because he cared. Because he truly loved her.

“I’m glad I chose you,” she whispered.

Laris sighed sleepily. “So am I.”

VYRN
laid a hand over his stomach, which had not been quite right of late. Soon, in a matter of days at the very least, he would be forced to part from the other sentinels and soldiers and make his way to the house of the woman who had hired him. There he’d be paid for his efforts, and with any luck he could disappear before anyone thought to question what had happened the night Princess Edlyn died.

He didn’t have a lot of time. Paki and Kontar, the blue whore’s two surly guardians, just yesterday had separated themselves from the group to travel to Arthes and demand justice from the emperor himself. They were all frustrated at the lack of success, but those two had finally had enough of following the others and not finding their charge. Impatient fellows! Yes, it would be best if he collected his pay before too many questions were raised.

Vyrn walked into the forest to relieve himself, took care of the task, and then turned about. Tari stood there, her thin, drably gowned body positioned between him and camp. He blinked hard, wondering if she was a hallucination. His head was swimming and his legs were unsteady, so it was possible.

“Hello, Vyrn,” she said in a lowered voice. “I got tired of waiting for you to collect me, so I decided to find you on my own. I hope you don’t mind.”

“We haven’t yet caught the prince,” he whispered. He stepped toward her, and when he was near, placed a hand on her shoulder, as much for support as to assure himself that she was real.

“I know.”

Vyrn set aside his annoyance. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing that she’d joined him. He’d eaten something bad or had picked up a disease from one of the villagers he’d questioned, and he could do with a woman to look after him. Besides, with her to help him through this bad patch, he could leave immediately and go collect his pay.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” he whispered. “We can leave tonight.”

She nodded, meek and agreeable as always.

“Wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Vyrn returned to camp. No one else was sick, which made him think he’d caught a disease. They’d been eating the same food, after all. He’d caught something from one of the common folk he’d been interrogating of late. A farmer or a shopkeeper’s wife had passed along this weakening illness. Maybe one of those annoying coughing children he’d had to deal with a few days ago had given him this sickness. Little monsters, he should’ve beaten them the way he’d beaten their uncooperative father. Dammit, someone had to have seen the prince, someone had to know where he was.

That no longer mattered. He was not going to find the prince and collect a bonus, but he still had a nice bit of pay to collect. Until he regained his strength, Tari would care for him. She’d be good for one last function before he disposed of her.