Silverlight (3 page)

O
n the seventeenth night
of my vigil, Amori brought supper up to me. “Let her go, Magnus.” She placed a
gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Hold her tight and help her into the
long summer. You’ve done all you could.”

“No. No. No!” I eyed the plate of food, tempted
to push it away, but that would’ve been unkind. Amori had done so much for
Kymber. For me. “I don’t . . . I
can’t
believe she was given back to me
so I could lose her again.”

Clucking her tongue, Amori closed the door
behind her.

Though I was bone-weary, I gripped Kymber’s
shoulders and shook her. “It’s not ending this way, do you hear me? Wake up,
Kymber Oryx. Open your damned eyes. It’s time to wake up!”

Kymber’s right hand flew up and flailed against
my chest, as though she were trying to fend me off. Her eyelids parted just
enough for me to catch a glimpse of her gem-blue irises.

Gods. Gods!

She was alive.

I
sensed the shadows that had been pursuing me
were solid and sentient. Too tired to fight them any longer, I thrust my hand
out and screamed. “Please! It can’t end like this!”

As the darkness swallowed me, I closed my eyes
and kept my hand outstretched, a dying plea lodged in my throat.

Inexplicably, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. “Wake
up, Kymber.” The voice was deep and male, so close I could feel his breath on
my cheek. “Can you hear me? Damn it, wake up. It’s time to wake up!”

I struggled to open my eyes, mentally stumbling
over the voice. Was it Magn . . . ?

No, it couldn’t be. I was hallucinating again.
Sick from drinking that damned, dirty water. I’d probably been flat on my back
in the cave for days on end. I’d no doubt pissed myself . . . and worse. My
skull felt as though it were going to explode. 

“Kymber?”

“Go away.” I wasn’t sure if I said it aloud or
only thought it. It was definitely his voice, but Magnus Tyrix didn’t usually
haunt me during an illness. No, he occupied a much darker corner of my mind.

“I’m not going away. Wake up, damn you.”

“Go away, or I’ll kill you.” I tried to wriggle
away from the hands gripping my shoulders and failed.

“That’s right. Wake up.” A hand caught my jaw
and held it, forcing me into a state of drowsy focus. I heard the distant
sounds of men laughing, pots and pans rattling, feet shuffling.

I was not in the cave then. I kept my eyes shut
and tried to recall my last memory. Ah, the same thieves who’d taken my things
weeks earlier had come back for the rest of it. Convinced I was hiding
something of great value, they were more thorough in their search this time.

Didn’t they care that it had taken me two years
to gather and hide the goods they’d carelessly thrown onto that pile? No, this
time they were going to steal everything I had and kill me for a witch.

 I had managed to fight for a bit, until
exhaustion flattened me. The one they called Cort had pulled his sword then and
hit me in the head. The bastard
hit
me!

So odd though. I could’ve sworn I saw Magnus
Tyrix as I was falling, falling into blackness. Cort must’ve put everything he
had into that blow, for me to conjure Tyrix the Traitorous Jackass out of thin
air.

My eyelids felt heavy, as though stones were
pressing down on them. My eyes opened as slits, and I caught a glimpse of
thick, dark, hardwood beams overhead. The warm, sweet smell of beeswax candles
and the faint tang of beer and roasting meat mingled in my nostrils.

“That’s it, Kymber. Wake up, love.”

Love? The man using Magnus’s voice had called
me his “love”? I snapped my eyes open.

Gods above and below, I wasn’t sick, and I
wasn’t having a nightmare. I
was
looking into Magnus Tyrix’s face.

He leaned over me with half a smile. Such
broad, strong shoulders. The chiseled lines of his handsome face were made that
much sharper by the candlelight. Three or four days of stubble covered his jaw
and upper lip. His eyes were just as dark as I remembered, framed by thick
black lashes.

I couldn’t tell how long his hair was now, as
it was pulled behind him. In another time, it had nearly been to his waist when
loose, wavy and dark and much softer than it looked. I’d spent enough time
running my hands through it, hadn’t I?

That was before he betrayed me.

His dark leather jerkin and the white shirt
beneath it gave him an air of malevolence. He was close. Too close.

Dizzy, weak as a kitten, I smashed him in the
chin with my ruined right hand anyway. Not much of a punch, but I thought I’d
send a message.
I will not go back without a fight.

He leapt up with a curse, holding the bottom of
his face in both hands. “Damn it, Kymber. What did you do that for?”

Don’t talk to him. Don’t answer.
Tucking into a ball, I
dropped off the edge of the bed, gold sparks flying behind my eyelids when my
head hit the floor. I crawled into a corner and cradled my aching head in the
crook of one arm, disgusted to hear myself whimpering.

I knew now where I was. This was Magnus’s room
at The Blue Lantern Inn. We’d made love too many times to count on the cot that
stood between us. I’d never get away from him, as sick and wounded as I was.

“The Blue Lantern.” Leaning to one side, I
vomited into a spittoon, then wiped my mouth and glared at him. “I suppose you
find this amusing.”

 “Amusing? In what way?” He moved his hands
away from his face with a glare of his own. I’d split his lip. “You were hurt.
It was the safest place I could think of.”

“Safe.” I laughed then dry-heaved until my eyes
bulged. “Yes, being with you is extremely
safe
, isn’t it? And these
aren’t my clothes. What did you do?”

He stiffened. “I cut that damned, filthy tunic
right off your body with my dagger, then I washed you from head to foot while
Amori stitched your wound.” I briefly glimpsed a self-satisfied smile. “And
then we dressed you.”

 No hint of remorse and no apology. I didn’t
have the strength to get angry. “You had no right. You have no right to
touch
me.”

“Listen, I only touched
you enough to
wash and dress you. Amori was here the whole time.” Magnus’s jaw tightened. “Do
you want me to get her so you can ask her?”

Gods, my head hurt. “Ask her what?” I said
wearily.

“If I took liberties with you.”

With some difficulty, I raised my fingers to
the cloth bandages wound around my head. “Those men were going to kill me. How
did I get here?”

“I brought you.” Magnus made a quick maneuver
around the end of the bed and sat on the edge, eyeing me as he rubbed his chin
with one hand. I shivered. The
scritch scritch
of his fingers against
stubble sounded like rats foraging in the dark.

“Shove that confused look up your ass,” I said
with as much fire as I could muster. “I won’t go back to him. I’ll find a way
to kill myself first.”

“Back to whom?”

“Gah . . .  Gah . . .” My tongue tried to form
words my injured brain wasn’t willing to part with. “Drakoe Garai.”

He started and blinked. “Is that where you were
all this time? In Pentorus? With King Drakoe?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“I
didn’t
know. Did he . . . did he . .
.?” He paused to take a breath. “What happened, Kymber? It must’ve been at
Marilian, as that’s the last time I saw you.” His nostrils flared a bit. “. . .
until yesterday.”

There was something about his tone that gave me
pause. I held my aching head and mumbled, “Yes. At Marilian. Just as you’d
planned.”

“I have no patience for riddles tonight. You
need to tell me what happened at Marilian.” He pressed his hands to his knees
and stood. “Right now.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone of
voice. You don’t get to make demands, after what you did to me.”

“What did I do to you?” He looked genuinely
confused.

“Y
ou
tell
me
what happened at
Marilian.” I pressed tighter into the corner, but I had no illusions. Magnus
had me right where he wanted me. The thought of going back to Pentorus almost
sent me over the spittoon again. I couldn’t. I just
couldn’t
. . .

“Damn it, Kymber, I was told you were dead and
had been buried in a mass grave dug on the battlefield.”

“Who told you that?” It was all I could do to
keep my jaw from dropping into my lap.

“Tariq. He said he tried to get to you, but he
was injured. He said he crawled across the field to the open grave, but those
who were burying the dead covered you over before he could make it all the
way.” Magnus’s throat pulsed as he swallowed. “He told me Silverlight followed
you into the grave.”

Tariq. Of course. My body crawled with
gooseflesh as I pondered it.

I’d known Magnus Tyrix well at one time. I
could see he believed what he was telling me, which was not the same thing as
lying.

Gods. Tariq had told me one thing. He’d told
Magnus another. Had he deceived us both, thinking the other would never know?

“Where is Tariq?” I asked carefully.

Magnus shrugged. “Off on some new adventure, I
suppose. I’ve had no contact with him for two or three summers.”

“Are you lying to me about the grave? Because I
will kill you if you are.” I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that,
but it made me feel a little better to say it.

He pulled his sword from the scabbard, dropped
to his knees, and pressed the shining blade flat against his forehead. “I swear
on Bloodreign that I am not lying to you. I speak the truth, as I understand
it.”

Curiously, the sight of Bloodreign convinced me.
An oath was binding, a statement true, if made while presenting his sword. I
relaxed into the corner, my head muzzy, and covered my face with my hands. “I
think it would be easier for both of us if you
were
lying,” I finally
said in a shaky voice.

“I am not.” He remained kneeling, eyes lowered
in a gesture of respect, Bloodreign gripped tightly in both hands. “You know
I’m not.”

No, he wasn’t lying. The only thing we could do
was sort it out. I laid my hands in my lap and took a deep breath. “I think
we’ve been played for fools.”

“By whom?”

“Finish your story first.” I wanted to hear it
all, no matter how painful. “Your account of events is much different than
mine.”

Magnus rose and dropped his sword back into the
scabbard. “I can verify Tariq was injured. His shoulder and left leg were
sliced open. He told me he saw your body tossed into the grave. He said he
crawled to it as the gravediggers threw barrow after barrow of dirt over the
bodies. By the time he got to the edge of the grave, it had been covered over.”
Magnus’s voice grew husky. “I couldn’t believe it was the end of you. I wept
until I had no more tears to cry. If only I could have gone into that grave
with you, Kymber.”

I pressed the heels of my hands against my
eyelids. His story wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true! Believing it meant Magnus
wasn’t a heartless bastard after all.

I buried my head in the crook of my arm. Tariq
was going to die by my hand, slowly. I would torture him the way I had been
tortured. He had no reason to give a damn about me but to do this to his own
brother was beyond comprehension.

Angry storm at bay for the time being, I lifted
my gaze to Magnus.

 “The look on your face tells me that is only
part of the story.” Magnus went to his knees before me and reached for my
hands. 

I pulled away, not ready for contact just yet.
“It’s
none
of the story. It isn’t truly what happened.”

“Then tell me. I deserve an explanation.”

“Yes, you do, though I don’t think you’ll like
it much.” I inhaled and began to speak. “You had taken most of the men to the
other side of the battlefield. To the right flank, in order to hold off the
Pentorians on that side. Tariq and I stayed where we were, as you’d requested.
Remember? We’d turned their left flank back and you didn’t want to lose the
momentum when you went to check on Commander Forish. As soon as you were out of
sight, Tariq . . .” I struggled for air. That horror had never left me.

“Tariq what?”

“He suddenly spun and kicked Silverlight out of
my hand.” I could only imagine the haunted look I had on my face. How many
times had I relived that moment, trying to think of what I could’ve done to
save myself. I had never feared Tariq. I’d been trained to fight between him
and Magnus. “He certainly caught me unaware that day.”

Magnus growled. I lifted my hands to silence
him. I had to finish the story uninterrupted, or I would not be able to finish
it at all.

“I bent to retrieve my sword, but I saw him
swing at me with his own out of the corner of my eye. I pulled back, but not
fast enough. He cut me. Here.” I ran my fingers over the scar on the back of my
hand. “I staggered and tried to stay on my feet, but I couldn’t. I went to my
knees begging for an answer. Why? Why did he do it? But he didn’t say anything.
I lunged for Silverlight again, but he kicked it out of my reach. Then he grabbed
my injured hand, and sliced here – between my fingers.” I presented him with
the longer, deadlier scar on my palm. “The blade went all the way into the
middle of my hand. I can still hear him laughing. ‘You’ll never be able to hold
a sword again,’ he said.”

Magnus’s eyes grew round. “Why would he do such
a thing?”

“Tariq said you wanted me gone. That you had a
wife and children hidden in Jalartha, and you didn’t love me anymore. He said you
asked him to kill me. He was willing to do it for you, but he saw an
opportunity to profit. Garai offered him a king’s ransom for me, or so he said.
He’d ordered your brother to disable me first, so I couldn’t fight. So I could
never fight again.” I lifted my useless right hand. “You see the result.”