Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) (17 page)

“Mother,
Ashayna only did what I asked. I pressed her too hard and she lost control.”

“Dramatically,
I see,” Talnarra said, with a glance around at the mess. Her gaze hardened as
she studied Ashayna. “I’ve obviously overestimated my son’s abilities. Neither
of you will practice without an elder in the future.”

“Talnarra, don’t
be so harsh,” Kysoran said. He tilted his head to one side. His crest fluffed
in a motion Ashayna attributed to humor. “You’re secretly pleased, admit it.
Our son’s bondmate is extraordinarily powerful, just like you were hoping for.”

Talnarra’s eyes
narrowed, but she nodded stiffly. “Yes. However it doesn’t mean I’m pleased to
see she’s destroyed half the practice chamber.” She sighed, then continued, “My
mate has a point. I’m expecting too much, too soon, from you both. Go have a
healer check on your Larnkins, and then get some rest. Ashayna, you will be
tired when the thrill of your pounding blood returns to normal. There is a
price for calling on the amount of power you did.”

With that said,
Talnarra and Kysoran withdrew, followed by seven grim-faced guards. Ashayna
knew it wasn’t over as easily as that. No, she was willing to bet the council
would assemble to discuss her little escapade involving fire and spirit magic.

Ashayna winced
as a small throb stabbed into her temples. The price Talnarra mentioned? A
second throb vibrated through her brain. Exhaustion, swift and overpowering as
snow cascading down a mountain side, threatened to engulf her.

She let Sorntar
urge her out of the rubble and towards the healer’s. When they were almost to
their destination, he drew her aside into an alcove.

“After you have
recovered, I want to study in the library.”

By his tone,
Ashayna was willing to bet it was more likely to be researching the history of
a certain twelve talismans, than studying for their lessons.

“Yes, that sounds
prudent.”

Navigating the
library baffled Ashayna. Even the sprawl of the practice grounds and the many
buildings comprising the stable complex was nothing compared to the complexity
of the library’s corridors, stairs, and tightly nested rooms. Mentally cursing
narrow stairs, which reminded her far too much of her time in the Oracle
Tower, she steeled herself against fear and followed close at Sorntar’s heels.

“The part of
the library we’re headed to is more spacious than this section, nothing like
the Oracle Tower,” he said.

“I didn’t say
anything aloud. And I had my shields in place.” Tilting her chin up to meet his
gaze, she stood with a hand braced on her hip.

A look of mild
embarrassment crossed Sorntar’s features. “Though I’ll admit to trying to peek
into your mind on previous occasions, I didn’t this time. Your Larnkin grows
stronger, and with it, your ability to project your thoughts.” He shrugged, his
wings flaring with the movement. “As our Larnkins recover from the severing of
the bond which occurred when they took us as hosts, our magic will grow in
strength. Increasingly, we will be able to sense what the other thinks and
feels. It has some benefits,” he rushed on, “Only rarely will I intentionally
read your private thoughts.”

“How gallant of
you.” A smile twisted the corner of her lips up at his hasty and very nervous
explanation, spoiling her attempt at anger.

He didn’t say
anything in response, just stood there looking blameless and altogether too
handsome. As she stomped past him, she glanced up to see if he’d caught her
last stray thought.

He flashed a
quick shy smile. Was it her imagination, or did his skin darken with a blush?

Instant warmth
flooded her, twisting low in her belly. A shiver raced down her body and her
breathing hitched. Blood rushed to her cheek at her body’s surprising response
to him.

By the gods,
it was just a smile. Stop acting like a girl at her first flush of maidenhood.
Scolding herself didn’t stop the pounding of her heart.

“Curse it,” she
whispered and tromped ahead, uncaring that she lacked the slightest clue where
she was headed.

They moved
deeper into a new section. This one made the first area seem open and spacious.
The small dark corridor had one point in its favor—this deep, with its gloomy
atmosphere, no one was likely to disturb them or ask uncomfortable questions
about her magic. Just when she was searching for something to say to break the
awkward silence, Sorntar pointed down a newer section of tunnel. They arrived
at a large book-lined room with tables and benches at its center.

“We should
start with older scrolls dealing with the Oracle Stone,” Sorntar said. “Nothing
I know or have discovered fully explains what it is.”

“Maybe we
should just go to the other councilors.”

“I’d rather
not. What I know of the Oracle leads me to believe its words are always
truthful, but not easily understood. There is a saying among my people ‘Beware
the untruths and the half-truths, for many have died in deception’s shadow.’  Of
late I have heard what must certainly be half-truths and full evasions by some
elders. Then there is the strength of our Larnkins.”

Sorntar drew
breath to say something else, but instead his brows furrowed and he pressed his
lips tight together. She thought she knew what he’d left unsaid. They weren’t
likely to find a solution to their problems in a book.

* * * *

“How can I
help?” Ashayna fingered a scroll covered in a flowing script, then hunched over
it, her nose a bare hand-span away. She still couldn’t read a word of it.
Bracing her hands against the stone table, she looked up at Sorntar. “What
language is this anyway?”

“A dialect of
ancient lupwyn,” he replied. “I can weave a spell to allow you to know our
languages. It’s a simple spell, very harmless.”

“In case you
haven’t noticed, I don’t do well with magic.”

“Ash, let me
try.”

She sighed and
glanced around the room. Every book was written in a foreign language. Despite
her supposedly vast magic, she couldn’t help Sorntar with this simple task.
Anything would be better than this feeling of worthlessness, even magic. “Fine.
Try if you think it will help.”

Sorntar’s eyes
widened, his lips parting on a surprised breath. Just as quickly, he hid his
astonishment and stepped around the corner of the table, motioning for her to
straighten up. She did and found he’d moved forward at the same time. He
crowded her back against the table’s edge. The bulk of his wings blocked escape
to either side. The table prevented retreat. Their bodies were close enough to
touch. Her breath came shallow, her heart started to race. Ashayna turned her
head away and tried to shield herself. If he read her mind now, he would know
how he affected her. Her heart continued to pound its frantic rhythm.

A warm weight
landed on either side of her hips—the steady grip of his hands. He lifted her
like she weighed nothing and sat her on the edge of the table. When he stepped
between her thighs, she tensed. Too late to stop him, his hands moved to her
shoulders. A rising wave of his magic caressed her a moment before its burning
essence tickled her nose. Sorntar’s familiar scent blanketed her until a
strange mix of panic and desire tightened her stomach.

“Easy, Ash,” he
crooned. “I needed to get within the perimeter of your physical shields. They’re
stronger than plate armor. I felt you summoning them as soon as you agreed to
the spell.”

“I didn’t…I
wasn’t aware.” She might not be aware what her magic was doing, but she was
very much aware of how close Sorntar stood. The broad expanse of his naked
chest nearly begged for her to explore. Her gaze trailed down his chest. Seeing
the hard muscles of his thighs trapped between hers made her heart race. His
spicy scent surrounded her. Liquid heat swirled through her blood, coming to
rest low in her belly as breath sped from her lungs.

Hesitantly, she
traced the outline of one of his primaries. The feather was wider than her hand
and knife-edge rigid. He sighed, the tension in his wings melting away with the
sound. Encouraged by his response, she ran a finger up his feather’s length
until the quill’s shaft disappeared under another layer of feathers. These were
softer, and vanished in turn under a layer of down. Her fingers curved around
his one wing bone, just above where it joined to his back. It was bigger around
than her fingers could span.

Sorntar began a
deep rumbling, not unlike a cat’s purr. Risking a glance up at his face, she
found he had his chin tucked against his chest, his eyes closed, and the
feathers of his crest were half raised.

A tugging at
the end of her braid made her jump, she relaxed when Sorntar began unwinding
the thick coils. His fingers smoothed each strand, removing tangles, the scrape
of his fingers along her scalp raising tiny thrills along her flesh. With each
sweep of his finger, she leaned closer, when he started massaging her temples,
she nearly purred along with him. The last time someone combed her hair had
been during childhood. Those memories paled to Sorntar’s touch.

She released
his wing to stroke his back. Her fingers molded to taut skin, trailing up to
his shoulders. His hands dropped from her hair and took a firm grip on her
hips. He pulled her closer. It still wasn’t close enough. She arched her back
and crushed her breasts to his chest. Her fingers bit into his shoulders.

Hot and moist,
his lips trailed along her jaw, his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive
skin of her neck. With a slow, thorough determination he carefully worked his
way up to nuzzle her ear. Teeth nibbled at the lobe with gentle nips before his
warm lips moved down her throat.

She gasped at
the heat shooting straight to her core. Her blood thundering in her veins, she
arched closer, her hands clinging to his shoulders. Sorntar melted against her
with a groan, then continued his lazy exploration downward until he came in
contact with the delicate silver chain. His cooing changed tones, growing
deeper. He tugged at the chain, attempting to free her necklace from the
confines of her vest.

In truth, it
was
his
necklace. But he couldn’t have it back. It was the only thing
able to calm her Larnkin. Panicked, she jerked away from Sorntar, but was
halted by his wings crossing behind her back. His cooing stopped. He opened his
eyes a slit. He took her one hand and flattened the fingers against his chest, and
then his eyelashes lowered again.

At least he
wasn’t going to make an issue out of her borrowed necklace. It must hold some
special meaning. If she knew what it was, she was afraid her honor would demand
she give it back to Sorntar. That would likely anger her Larnkin.

Unable to help
herself, her fingers curled in one final caress. “Ah…this isn’t research, nor
is it going to help me read ancient languages.”

“Mutual
grooming,” he rumbled without opening his eyes.

“I’d say it’s a
little more than that…” She put her hand on his chest and pushed. Reluctantly,
he let her go. She put as much distance between them as the room’s narrow
confines allowed. “I think we need to focus on the problem at hand.”

“Problem?” he
asked sleepily.

“Larnkins, Oracle
Tower…Sorntar, you need to focus.”

He shook out
his feathers and stretched, his eyes sharpening with intelligence. Looking
around, he murmured something about spring and mating instincts. There wasn’t a
hint of embarrassment in his eyes. He picked up the nearest scroll and offered
it to her. “Can you read it now? I cast the weaving before we… digressed.”

She cleared her
throat as she snatched it from his hand. Unrolling it, she looked at the
lettering only to have the words shimmer and blur. Dizziness swamped her. The
scroll slipped from her numb fingers. She stumbled, slamming a hip against the
table. Sorntar pulled her against his chest before she joined the scroll on the
floor. With one strong arm behind her shoulders and the other hooked under her
knees, he lifted her with ease. She gasped in surprise. When the ceiling
stopped spinning, she found herself staring into Sorntar’s intense gaze.

“Are you all right?”
Concern formed little creases along the corners of his mouth.

“I’m fine. You
can put me down. If anyone asks, that wasn’t a swoon.”

Humor glinted
in his eyes. “Of course not.”

“I don’t swoon.
Put me down.”

“My weaving
didn’t take.” He peered down into her eyes. “Would you like me to try a second
time when you’re recovered? Perhaps this one will reinforce the first enough
your magic won’t undo my work so quickly.”

“No!” Ashayna
pushed at his chest until he had to put her down or drop her. “Thank you for
trying, but I think I’ve had a big enough dose of your magic for now.”

“Sorry, my
spell casting abilities are normally better than that. I allowed myself to
become distracted.” He had the grace to look embarrassed and backed off several
steps.

“Happens to the
best of us.” Ashayna straightened her clothing without meeting his gaze. She
just wanted the whole episode behind them. “We have work to do.”

In the end, she
helped Sorntar in whatever way she could. At first gathering certain books he
described, and then later putting away the ones he set aside in rejection. Time
crept by as Sorntar leafed through book after book, unable to find what he
sought. With little else to do, she opted to sit and pretend she wasn’t
studying him.

The feathers of
his crest shifted, and she realized she hadn’t shielded her thoughts well
enough.

“If you get
bored with the…scenery, you can always write a letter to your family.” He didn’t
raise his eyes from the scroll, but she still saw his grin. “There is paper and
supplies in the pack by your feet. We might be able to get a santhyrian to
deliver it for you.”

Ashayna reached
down and rummaged through the pack until she grasped a sheet of paper. She
crumpled it up and sent it sailing through the air. It hit Sorntar squarely in
the chest. “It’s not nice to make fun,” she stated.

“My apologies,
I couldn’t resist.” He tossed the paper back, catching her in the shoulder.

She grunted and
pulled out another sheet of paper. When Sorntar held his hands up in surrender,
she only reached down and grabbed quill and ink. He chuckled, returning to his
research.

Ashayna stared
at the cream-colored paper for some moments, trying to put words to her
experiences among the Elementals. Dipping quill into ink, she started to write.
Words poured fourth onto the page faster than she thought possible. By the end
one letter had become two.

The first one she
addressed to her entire family, the second to Sorsha and Lamarra alone. In it
she wrote everything she couldn’t put in the first.

Ashayna poured
a bit of wax from a candle and sealed the second letter. When she was finished,
she stood and looked in Sorntar’s direction. He was slumped over a stack of
books, sleeping. One hand laid on a partially unrolled scroll. The other rested
on his thigh, close to the hilt of one sword. “Ready to protect me even in your
sleep,” she whispered. Something in her chest tightened. “Ah, you could steal a
woman’s heart without even trying.”