The Demigod Proving (41 page)

Leenda stumbled back from the cot and landed on her tailbone on the ground. The hat fell from her head, and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She cried out, her lips burning and her fingertips tingling from the feel of his skin.

“What are you doing?” he said.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. For a moment she thought he would help her up, but after he jumped up—he wore white cotton undershorts down to his knees—he backed away from her. She couldn’t see his face in the dimness, but could imagine its terror.

Now that she had his attention, she didn’t know what to say. She’d thought to insist that he come with her, that he listen to reason, but that seemed as inadequate as asking Rashel to tell him the truth. She started to stand and accidentally kicked the eagle figurine.

He leaned over and snatched the figures up from the ground.

“Where’s the lion?”

On her feet, she dug into her pocket and pulled out the lion. As she extended her hand to him, palm up, the lion resting on it, the figurine seemed to wink at her in the light. He reached for it, and she snatched her hand back.

“Not until you finish that kiss."

He gaped at her. “What?”

“I want a proper end to that kiss. Throwing me off is no way to treat me. I’m your mate.”

He made noises of confusion and frustration.

“You felt it just like I did,” she said. “The power of that kiss. We were meant for each other, Wrend. You belong with me. And you know it.”

She really had no idea if he knew it, or not, but a human would say that kind of thing. Did the human brain influence even her words? It wasn’t enough that the body affected her emotions, now the brain dictated what came out of her mouth?

“It’s forbidden,” he said. “I can’t kiss you.”

She stepped toward him, tilting her head forward so she had to look at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Let’s get away from here, Wrend. Let’s go somewhere we can be alone—without worrying about paladins or anyone else.”

A struggle passed through his eyes as she put the lion on the cot behind him, and placed her hands on his hips. It took all of her effort to not kiss him again—if he got another kiss he’d have to work for it. And he wanted it. She could see the hunger in his eyes, feel it in the trembling of his stomach muscles.

“Just come with me for a little while, so we can talk.”

“You don’t want to just talk.”

“We
do
need to talk. But if other things happen,” she said, running a forefinger down his arm and taking his hand in hers, “I won’t object.”

He licked his lips. His eyes glinted with conflict, and she feared that if he voiced his doubts they would overtake him. So, she reached both her hands up to the back of his neck, stood on the tips of her toes, and pulled his face down to hers.

He resisted far less than she expected or hoped.

Chapter 48: Willful disobedience

It's natural for all beings of intelligence to test the bounds around them, to push against the walls that create their world. It's part of having the ability to act and make decisions. The trick is to not push too hard, and to not push against the wrong bounds.

-Wrend

Wrend felt himself slipping into uncharted territory for the second time that night. But this time, he knew exactly what was going on.

And not only did he welcome it, he enjoyed it.

Her mouth tasted both sweet and salty, like cured beef and apples. Her hands on the back of his neck felt warm; he wanted her to run them over his chest. Touch his stomach.

He stood there with his eyes open as he drank her in, relishing the softness of her lips against his. She closed her eyes and leaned her body into his, tilting her head back. In the dim light it almost looked like her head had caught fire, the way her tangled hair shifted in the shadows.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. It was forbidden for him to have any kind of relationship of this manner.

Yet, what would happen if he did? The Master didn’t have to know. And, indeed, the Master hadn’t said anything about avoiding her when he’d confessed that Wrend was a draegon, and this girl possibly his mate. He hadn’t told Wrend to avoid her. He hadn’t forbidden contact with her.

And besides, it might not matter soon, anyway. If Wrend failed in whatever task the Master had in store for him, it didn’t really matter what he did, anymore. And if he succeeded, the normal rules wouldn't apply to him. In fact, if he became god, he would probably take on wives like the Master did.

The question—did it matter if he obeyed the Master—nearly made him pull away. Of course it mattered. Yet something held him there. Perhaps the words of Naresh and the seeds of doubt they’d planted. Maybe the questions that resonated with his soul, as if they were old memories coming to the surface: was the Master even god, or just a man who’d set himself up as god?

But maybe that also wasn’t the reason he kept kissing her. Maybe it was just that he found it so pleasant.

His desire grew with each moment the kiss continued. He bent his legs so that she didn’t have to crane her neck so much. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her closer. A little squeak of pleasure rose from her throat.

She was his mate from a former life. He could feel it—he had a connection with her. But he couldn’t tell her he knew. If he did, the pull toward her would become that much stronger. He couldn’t concede everything to her. That would be too much.

But maybe he could go with her. Just for a while. Just to get to know her better. The scales in his mind tipped in favor of it.

He pulled his lips from her.

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 49: Interrupted

Always approach shadows with caution. Always. The one time you forget the danger that can emerge from darkness, you will get a nasty surprise.

-Athanaric

Wrend’s agreement to go with Leenda sent a thrill through her. As it was, she almost couldn’t breathe, what with his body almost one with hers. Just her thin shirt separating them.

Nevertheless, she pulled away in order to take his hand and pull him forward, toward the door.

“Wait,” he said. “I need boots. A shirt. Probably pants.”

“You look fine without a shirt,” she said, but didn’t object further as he grabbed his clothes out of the chest and pulled them on.

He moved with a hurried grace, hardly pulling his eyes from her even when he sat on the cot to lace up his boots. She picked the hat back up, and with a sly grin at him snatched the lion from the cot. A prize. By the time she’d put the hat back on her head and tucked the hair up underneath it, he was fully dressed again and belting on his knife.

“Do you really think you’ll need that?” she said.

He looked at the knife and shrugged. “It’s always with me.”

She joined him at the door, and he took her hand as he peeked out of the tent to make sure the way was clear.

“Maybe we should go separately,” she said.

A sliver of light slipped through the tent flap, lighting one side of his face as he looked at her.

“You lead the way,” he said.

“You’ll follow? You won’t abandon me?”

She saw the desire in his eyes and knew he wouldn’t. To feed his passion, she touched his face and kissed him again. When she pulled away, his voice became falsely stern.

“Lead the way.”

She stepped into the night. Not ten minutes had passed since she’d entered the tent, but the night felt different. The air felt cooler in her lungs, and the ground felt softer beneath her shoes. The stars shone brighter. The moon’s thin crescent shone more sharply against the sky. But everything else—the physical shapes around her—seemed insubstantial. The tents, trees, and bushes passed by like ghosts, hardly bearing substance because of the fog over her mind.

She moved fast, taking a circuitous path through the tents in order to avoid the paladins. He followed her at a distance, not as adept at avoiding guards. But they let him pass without issue, and before long they reached the edge of the camp, where the ground sloped uphill in a long, dark ridge. A copse of trees covered the top of the ridge. Krack waited on the opposite side, perhaps half a mile away. At least, he did if he’d kept his promise—which she thought he probably had; she was finally getting through to him.

Paladins, each spaced a hundred feet apart, patrolled the area. They marched back and forth along some invisible line fifty feet out from the camp. As she stood at the edge of the last tent, listening, the paladins in the darkness to the left called out that all was clear and safe. At first it came only as an indistinguishable mumble through the darkness, but it gradually grew louder and clearer as paladin after paladin called it out, going down the line.

“Safe and clear here.”

Wrend crept up behind her—he wasn’t particularly quiet—and she turned as he approached her.

“When I came into camp, I jumped over them,” she said. “I leapt from the top of the ridge into the city.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and it occurred to her that he didn’t know the extent of her abilities—the same ones that anyone who used Ichor could have.

“I can’t do that.”

He said it without looking at her, but she wished he would. She wanted him to lean over and kiss her again. Now, staring at him, feeling him so close, she found that the walk through the camp had not diminished the strength of his pull. It had increased it, as if the promise of what might come had lodged its way between her ribs, into her heart.

“But you can get past them, right?” she said. “They’ll let you out. And I can just leap over them.”

His brow furrowed. “We can try.”

“Just meet me up in those trees.”

She nodded uphill, past the paladins. It would be dark in those trees. No one would see them. Krack wouldn’t know they were there. Her heart raced at the thought, and she leaned up to kiss him, letting it linger for a moment as he touched her cheek with light fingers.

Then she separated from him and bound Thew and Flux to her body. She’d already been harvesting both constantly since leaving the tent; she did it so much, had such experience, that she almost did it unconsciously. Like breathing. She took about a dozen steps back into the camp, so she could get a running start, and with one last look at Wrend, applied the Ichor to her legs and body and started to sprint.

Her hat flew off as she lifted into the air, and her hair whipped in the wind. It was a good jump. Without Flux—just the application of Thew to strengthen her muscles—she would have leapt thirty or more feet, but with Flux she lifted high into the air, in an arc like an unusually tall rainbow. The ground dropped away from her, and she adjusted the path of her flight toward the trees. A paladin looking up into the sky might think she was a large bird passing overhead. The camp and tents shrunk, and she lost sight of where Wrend stood in the shadows. The trees gained definition as she approached them.