Bound (19 page)

Behind her, she heard a boot scuff on the stones that paved the square. "You always did like to come here and talk to her, especially when you were troubled."

She turned on the bench and saw her father walking slowly across the square. She stood as he approached her and was glad when he stopped several paces away. "Father."

She was surprised at how unwell he looked. His eyes and face were drawn and haggard, as if he had not slept in many weeks, perhaps longer. His blond hair, the same shade as her own, was not as carefully groomed as usual, and seemed to contain more gray than she remembered. His fine clothes hung from his body and she realized that he was leaner than when she had seen him a week earlier at her graduation. He still had his cane with him, but it no longer seemed an affectation, for he leaned heavily on it, canting his body to one side.

"I must say, I was surprised to get your letter. The request to see me was... unexpected," he said, his voice quiet and exhausted.

His condition and lack of surprise that she was in the city in the first place sent the first twinges of warning through her. When she responded, she worked to keep her voice clear and even. "I need you to be honest with me, Father. I know it's something you have not done for years, but I am hoping that here, in front of Mother, with us face to face, you will for once tell me everything. Something is going on, and I know that you're involved in it. I would rather hear the whole story from you, so that I may judge what part you want me to play in your plan. I won't cooperate without that. You want something. What is it? What are you involved in?"

He gazed past her to the memoria of his dead wife, looking sad and older than she could ever remember. His eyes also showed more love for Pella than she had ever seen. He was silent for so long that she was on the verge of declaring this a waste of time and leaving when words began to pour out of him.

"I did it for you, Faylanna, though the cost was higher than I knew," he said, his voice quietly desperate. "Everything I have done was for you. You were all I had left when Pella died. You were my one joy, my only care. I wanted everything for you, the whole world, from the day you were born, even those things that might not have been mine to give. I love you. I'm not always good at making you see that, and I think Pella would be sad at how things have fallen out between us these past years, but I have always acted out of my love for you, my care. Please, trust me, my daughter."

His words did not have the effect she knew he intended. It was like a spark landing in a bed of tinder; her anger flared around the words, feeding on them, and every hurt and resentment that had built up in her during her life since her mother's passing rushed out of her in a torrent. "Trust you? How can you even ask that, when you've not trusted me once in all of the years I've been at school? You have at every turn disrespected my choices, my decisions, and my feelings. You've treated me like your slave, a possession to be given away to whomever would bring you the things you felt our family was owed! And you dare to call that love? You didn't even trust me enough to give me a choice about what you're involved in now. You've just gone ahead and committed to something for me, on my behalf it seems, without even telling me what it is, and you just assume I'll go along with it because you tell me to trust you?"

"You need a partner, one who is worthy of you, of what you have become, Faylanna, not someone who will hold you back. You're right, there is a plan, but it is for you. Yes, I have taken it upon myself to arrange significant things in your life, but I have my reasons. You need someone who can protect-"

She rode right over his words, her fury rising further until it began to frighten her. "Why can you never accept me for who I am? Why do you always assert that I cannot be anything unless I have a partner? Everyone else has marveled at my strength, my abilities, unparalleled in history according to most, but not my father, who should be proudest of what I have accomplished. No, you always tell me that it's not enough, that I am not enough for you. Would I be enough for you, even if I went against my own wishes and took a partner? Will I ever be enough for you?"

Fay turned her back then and began to walk away, her heart racing and struggling to calm the rage that she had only suspected before now. Behind her, she heard a clatter as something fell to the stones. She turned to see her father standing bent over, one hand to his chest, and his cane lying fallen to the ground. His face was stricken and rapidly losing color. She suddenly felt guilty for the words she had spoken so heedlessly when he was obviously unwell, and it cooled her anger a little.

"It's too late," he said with an effort, his voice barely carrying to her ears. "Too late to stop, gone too far. Won’t let me. Did it for you, Faylanna, can't stop..." He trailed off as he crumpled to his knees, folding forward until his head nearly touched the stones of the square but not collapsing sideways. The air around her stirred, faster with each passing second as she to go to him, her concern suddenly outweighing the past. Then she stopped, frozen in horror as a shape straightened out of her father, a man. Marcius. He turned his blue eyes on her and took a single step out of her father, toward her. He stopped, closed his eyes and then opened them again. This time, she realized she could not see anything through him. She thought that somehow he was really there.

A shocking thrum of heat and need bolted through her in a rhythm so fierce that it nearly shook her whole body. Her last dream of him rose in her mind, his hands and mouth on her naked skin and she felt a blush rising all over her face. His satisfied smile suggested he knew what was causing it. The wind continued to build, swirling like a tempest around the square and making the branches that spread over this memoria whip around until they groaned on the verge of snapping. The candle in the memoria's hands blew out and was carried away into the storm. Fay's hair rose in the wind, streaming out in the growing gale but her eyes never left Marcius. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came to her mind. He took another step toward her, then stopped, turning to look at something. She followed his gaze to the entrance to the square.

Tavis was walking through the break in the hedges, undeterred by the rising storm. He wasn't looking at her though. His eyes were fixed on Marcius, his face determined and stern as she had never seen it before. She turned back to Marcius and saw that he returned Tavis' gaze, his own aspect a mix of amusement and understanding. After several moments, a crack of lightning split the howling of the wind around them and Marcius turned back to her. She realized then that the wind did not touch him, which meant he must still be no more than a projection. His voice spoke, firm and challenging, coming not from him but from everywhere around her, and she marveled that a mere image could display such power.

"The time is coming when you will have to make your choice, Faylanna. Or will you make it now? Will you come with me, or stay with him?"

Looking from Marcius to Tavis, she tried to understand what she wanted, when the hesitancy to consider bonding that had haunted her for years abruptly shattered. It was replaced by a sudden need to be with someone. The change and the intensity of the sensation left her breathless. She turned back to Marcius and he nodded after a moment. His voice came again, softer, his amusement clearer this time. "Perhaps this is not the time, but it’s close, my sweet. I will give you time to decide. Choose wisely, Faylanna. Remember what I told you. I know you will make the right choice. I can wait, but not forever."

The image of Marcius took a further step forward, closing the distance between them. He reached out and put a hand on her cheek, cupping it. The touch set her nerves on fire in a way that reminded her again of her dream and rendered all questions of how it was possible unimportant. He smiled, and again it was as if he were reading her reactions through her thoughts. Then his face changed, rage blooming as they were forced apart. Fay could feel the shield between them expanding, causing her to stumble back across the stones of the square as the wind roared around them. She glanced over and saw Tavis standing there, his face set in concentration, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and she knew it was his shield. She heard a snarl of anger and frustration and turned to see Marcius fading out. The wind around them slowed and died. Pain spread its black tendrils through her, and she felt it swallow her as one final cry of fury echoed around the square and in the darkness that claimed her.

Chapter 12

A buzzing sound drew her out of the abyss. She became aware of light, red and diffuse. It distracted her from the angry hum as she puzzled over this, and then she realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them and the light became golden morning sunshine, streaming through the window. She realized that her hand was enveloped by something warm and saw long, tanned fingers wrapped around it. Tavis was sitting in a chair beside her bed. She looked around the room and they were all there. The buzzing sound that had drawn her back came from Ki and Eliar, who were arguing off to one side of the room, and she sensed the magic that kept their words indistinct to her. It seemed wrong for them to be arguing with each other, and she tried to understand what had happened. She knew she shouldn't be in bed, and that it shouldn't be morning, but didn't understand why those things were wrong. Frowning, she worked painstakingly to reconstruct her memory. At first, it wouldn't come, as if she was resisting it somewhere deep inside. Then she remembered.

Turning back to Tavis, who hadn't moved since she'd opened her eyes, she said, "You followed me."

The two men ceased arguing. They had clearly heard her despite their barrier. Ki and Eliar approached the bed. Lydia put a hand on her arm from her chair on the other side. When Fay turned to her, the expression that met her was a blend of concern and wariness.

"It's a good thing he did, too. I thought we had explained to you why we were against your idea. Now do you see why? You might have been killed, from the sound of things."

Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Fay said, "That wasn't what they wanted. My father wouldn't hurt me." Her eyes flew open. "My father! Where is he? Is he all right?"

She looked around at them, but no one spoke. She waited, worry gnawing at her, and the silence stretched out for several moments before Ki broke it.

"Faylanna, what happened?" She was surprised at how much anger she heard in his voice. It seemed wholly out of proportion with what had happened. "Why did you arrange that meeting after we specifically told you not to? Do you understand the risks you took? What if Tavis hadn't followed you there, hadn't been there to save you?" She stared at Ki as he stopped and took a deep breath. From the way his eyes closed, she thought he was trying to calm himself down.

"You don't know your father as well as you think, Faylanna," Eliar said, and she found her temper rising at the scolding tone he was using. "Surely, whatever happened, the little bit that Tavis saw and has told us of should be enough to make you see that he is not the man you once knew. In fact, I'm not sure what he is anymore."

"Tavis, how could you let her go? Why didn't you tell us what she was planning?" Ki asked, his anger flaring again.

"Ki-" Lydia began but Fay lost her temper entirely at that point.

"Don't you dare blame him for this!" she snapped, trying to sit up, though both Tavis and Lydia held her shoulders to prevent this. "I make my own choices! You're as bad as my father, telling me what to do like I'm a child. Who I can see, what I can do, what I can't do. That's my choice to make, not yours, so I made it. Tavis didn't tell you after he found me because I asked him not to. If you're going to blame someone, blame me, but don't think I'll just accept whatever you tell me, the little bits that you think I should be allowed to know or be involved in. Whether I met with my father was never your choice to make."

Everyone else was glancing from Fay to Ki as they stared at each other. Her eyes ached from the force of her own outrage, but she didn't look away. Finally, she saw some of his anger depart.

"Do you remember what happened? Tavis told us he wasn't there for much of your meeting, only the end. Tell us what happened with your father," Ki said in a calmer voice, though not the low tone he usually adopted. Fay thought she might be hearing his normal speaking voice for the first time, and it was more familiar than anything she had seen about him. She did not miss the note of command in his final sentence and wondered who he was to use it so naturally.

For a minute, she pondered this mystery, then what to tell them. Parts of what had happened were too personal for her to be comfortable to sharing, but she wasn't sure what Tavis might have already said. She explained about the argument with her father, his appearance and mental state. Knowing that Tavis would have mentioned Marcius' presence, she explained how he had come out of her father somehow. Here, she paused and decided she'd said enough. Turning to Tavis, she feigned distraction and asked, "Why did you follow me to the Gardensia? I was supposed to go alone. I told you that you couldn’t come with me."

Tavis didn't speak, but looked down at his hand, still holding hers, instead. She could see that he was embarrassed by the question, and she wondered how he would answer. Before he could though, Lydia asked, "Did you see what happened to Calder?"

Fay looked at her in confusion. "I- No. After Marcius touched me and Tavis cast-" She looked back at Tavis in wonder as she remembered the power of his spellwork, "cast a shield, everything went black. That's the last thing I remember. Tavis, didn't you see what happened to my father?"

Before Tavis could speak, Ki responded, his voice returned to its usual low tone. "Calder hasn't been seen in the day and a half since, so far as I can tell. He missed the meeting with the Emperor we told you about. In a way that's good, because he's missed the opportunity to do whatever he might have had planned for it. My f- My feeling is that the Emperor will not grant another such audience. But it worries me at the same time. Where has he gone and why did he miss that audience? He worked for months to be granted one, so why wasn't he there for it?"