The Twelve Kingdoms (18 page)

“Even if I did—which I have no intention of doing—this is not the time or place for that kind of conversation.”

“Then you acknowledge that there could be a time and place for it.” He grinned at my narrow glare. “That works for me.”

I sighed, indulged in rubbing my temple when I really wanted to massage the pounding lump on the back of my head. “You weary me, mercenary.”

“So much for you being fine. When will you rest?”

“There's a spot not too far ahead where we can stop. More defensible than this open meadow.”

He studied the landscape. “I've seen little so far of concern. What lurks out of sight that would attack a party this size?”

“This is why you needed us with you. Just wait and see. For now, the danger is less, this close to Ordnung.” Unless our skeleton staffing had encouraged the Tala to venture closer. Unless Uorsin sent troops after me. Neither of which I could control. “Still, the Tala have penetrated this far and farther. With our defenses so lean, they might have grown bold.”

“Surely your sister would not sanction attacks on the Twelve?”

No, I didn't think so. But I also didn't care to discuss Ash's dire comments that Andi and Rayfe contended with discontent internal to Annfwn. Or to rehash our recent disagreements for the foreigner's amusement. I hadn't heard from Andi, except via Ash, and I considered him an unreliable messenger at best. Even if she denied us passage across the border, at least I could see her and make sure that she fared well.

She loved and trusted Rayfe, I knew.

But I didn't.

We stopped an hour or so later, on one of the aprons where the acid-green meadow grasses gave way to soft, moss-covered soil that abutted a sharp cliffside. With our backs to it, we needed only guard to the forward of our group, not above or behind. Remembering to watch for attack from above was key when dealing with the Tala, I told Harlan, and I was gratified to see him pass the word among his men.

I tended my horse and made sure everyone had instructions and something to eat before I made my way to where Dafne had set out my blanket roll for me in an alcove against the stone. She gave me that same half-sympathetic/half-exasperated look Harlan had.

“You're waxy, Your Highness,” she said, with a shake of her head. “I'm making you a healing tea, but you need to rest.” She and Harlan, singing the same tune.

“That wasn't your opinion when you convinced me to flee my home with no sleep.”

“I regret that, but we had to get out and you know it. Now we have breathing room. You saw to it that you won't be missed for some time. When you are, there's no one with the skill to catch up to you and your Hawks—something else you know full well. Take care of yourself, Ursula. We need you.” She handed me a steaming cup.

Obediently I took it, sat on my pallet, and sipped, humbled by her caring. The brew backed the headache off almost immediately, making me even more guiltily grateful. “I apologize. I hate feeling less than my best. It makes me irritable.”

“I understand that.” She sat beside me. “I wish I'd been able to bring ice. The swelling is, if anything, worse.”

“Second day is always worse. It will start going down soon. And we'll hit pockets of snow before long. I'll grab some of that.”

She looked a bit aghast. “We'll hit winter weather even in late summer?”

“There's a reason those peaks are white, librarian. But no—most of our way should be warm and clear. In these mountains, though, old snow can linger in shadowed clefts of the north faces. Near the top of the pass is anyone's guess. While I have you away from the others, tell me—did you see Lord Percy while we were at Ordnung?”

“Well, of—” She looked up and to the right, as if mentally scanning one of her documents. “Wait. No. Come to think of it, I didn't. I should have. More, I should have noticed I hadn't seen him. He's a longtime personal friend and always at court in some capacity or another, or about in the halls. How is it possible I didn't miss him?”

“You were occupied a great deal,” I pointed out.

“Not
that
much. Interesting, because I didn't think to look for Lady Zevondeth, either, not until I ran into a reference to her in the books in Andi's rooms.”

“And I didn't think of her until you mentioned her. Just as it never occurred to me to look for Percy.”

“Which you always would have,” Dafne replied, looking somber. “It was always your habit upon return to Ordnung to visit with him and confer on the status of Ordnung's defenses.”

“I'm surprised you know that.”

She shrugged a little. “I pay attention.”

“So I see.” My jaw cracked with a yawn, stretching my bruised face so my eyes watered. “In your reading, did you find that the Practitioners of Deyrr had unusual powers of persuasion?”

“As in, being able to make us forget about people?”

Or to influence a king. “Yes—anything like that?”

She thought about it. “Not directly, but I brought what I could with me. I'll look with that in mind.” She paused, looked out over the waving grasses below, so brightly green even this late in the season. “I don't much care for the notion that I can't trust my own thoughts.”

“I'm with you there.” I yawned again. “Suddenly I can't keep my eyes open.”

Dafne took the mug from me with a pleased smile.

Too pleased.

“Danu take you—you sedated me?”

“Not very much,” she retorted. “Very mild painkiller and soother. The fact that it's hitting you so hard confirms how badly you need to sleep.”

“Tell Marskal that whoever is on watch should wake me in four hours. We can make more time today.” I had more, but I lost it in the fog of drowsiness. Had to lie down. “And remind me to discuss insubordination with you later, Lady Mailloux.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” She sounded not in the least worried, covering me with a blanket. “Sleep well.”

She disobeyed on that, as well, was my first thought when I awoke to full dark. We would have a serious conversation about this.

“You're awake? Good.” Harlan rumbled, a darker silhouette against the starry night sky. “Some food and tea for you.”

I sat up, scrubbing my hands over my scalp to clear the dregs of the heavy, dreamless sleep. The headache had backed off considerably, which I appreciated, but not enough to let Dafne off the hook.

“Now
you
are my lady-in-waiting? I know that's not in your contract.” Taking what Harlan handed me, I sniffed the tea suspiciously.

“No sedative this time,” he said. “Though you look better for the sleep.”

“Do you have cat's eyes that you can see in the dark?” I muttered.

“I could observe that much before the sun set.”

“Then why in Danu didn't you wake me earlier? Why didn't Marskal? I'll skin Dafne if she didn't pass along the message.”

“She did,” he returned in that mild tone, surprisingly soft for all its deepness. “I overruled your order.”

“Listen, mercenary, you don't have the authority to—”

“Countermand you in most situations,” he agreed. “Unless I perceive that impaired judgment is leading you to endanger yourself. It's in the—”

“Yes, I know what your thrice-dammed contract says.”

“You seemed as if you needed reminding.”

“A reminder that my authority is compromised by a hired hand who makes cavalier decisions about whether my judgment is up to his standards? No, I remember that quite well.”

“What bothers you most, Ursula?” He asked the question almost philosophically. A soft whisking sound told me he sharpened his blade. He sat with his back mostly to me, gazing out into the night. Guarding me, even still. “That I'm paid to do my job—which I'm very good at, by the way—or that you can't push me around?”

“Oh, I think I could if I tried.”

“I look forward to it.” Harlan sounded as if he meant it.

“Where is everyone?” Less groggy, I peered into the dense night, listening for movement.

“I sent them ahead to scout and hunt, replenish our provisions.”

“Your men don't know the dangers that—”

“Marskal and your other Hawks do. I tasked him to lead the group. Your lieutenant is a good man.”

He had the right of it, but I seethed over his autocratic decision making nonetheless.

“We shall catch up, then.”

“In the morning, yes.”

“You think you can keep me here against my will?” I loosened my blade in the sheath.

“Tell you what: if you can take me down, we'll leave.”

“Another gambit to get me to spar with you.”

“As you like. I'm betting that you're in no shape to do it. You were stretched thin enough to break and slept like the dead. So, yes, I intend to see you get a full night's sleep. When was the last time you had that?”

Not since Rayfe had turned our world upside down, certainly. I'd grown accustomed to less sleep over the years since Salena died, however. Some nights had been better than others, but never the same again. As if losing my mother had robbed me of some essential peacefulness. Maddening that thinking of her still grieved me so. Even more aggravating that this mercenary saw this essential weakness. “I don't need much sleep.”

He didn't comment, his silence damning enough.

“What's it to you?” I needled him, fed up with this entirely. “Oh, right—a paycheck. How could I forget.”

He stilled. Set the blade he'd been sharpening down. Turned and looked at me, face shadowed but his slow-boil anger palpable.

“Keep pushing me that way and you will find out.”

“I
s that a threat?” I asked, a bit on the loud side, to cover the sound of my gathering myself to spring, ready to defend, then attack.

“You'd like it to be, wouldn't you?”

“No. I'd like you to cease interfering, however well-intentioned you think it to be.”

“Put down your sword. I'm not your enemy, Ursula, even if you feel on firmer ground treating me like one. You asked what it is to me. Is it so impossible to believe that it's important to me because you are, because I have come to care deeply about you?”

I thought I'd been ready, but I hadn't seen that coming. A sucker punch to the gut that stole my breath.

“You're paid to care.”

“That blade grows dull with overuse. I've served many ladies without loving them. If anything, the contract is what brought us together, not what dictates my heart.”

“You hardly know me.”

A curve of Moranu's moon topped the tree line, gleaming on Harlan's face, silvering his pale eyes. Enough that his wry smile showed. “That doesn't seem to matter. I started to fall in love with you the moment I saw you striding through the court, so tall and proud, determination and anguish in your eyes.”

I was not equipped for this. Amelia would know how to flirt or gently put him off. My thoughts spun without traction. No defense to this.

“At least I've rendered you speechless,” he commented, his tone echoing his smile. “Is it such a shock? I made my intentions clear before this. I invited you into my bed, after all. You knew of my desire.”

I found a way to parry that one. “Yes, but that's hardly a declaration of . . . deeper feelings.”

“Won't even speak the word in my presence, I see.”

“Look at Jepp and Brandur,” I persisted, feeling a bit trapped, needing to break out of this corner. Rebalancing, I angled myself so I could step out of his reach as soon as I gained my feet. “Their liaison is hardly an emotional one.”

“True, but you are not her, are you? And I am not him. You and I are much alike in that. We are not people who take ‘liaisons' casually.”

“I'm certainly not. I don't know about you, Captain.”

“Harlan,” he rumbled, shifting his weight and edging into my reach. He'd know that I'd feel the pressure of his proximity. Deliberately making me feel cornered.

I refused to budge, to give him the satisfaction. Sometimes reaching a détente with an enemy required refusing to be the loser. Until we tested each other, either of us might be the winner or loser. I could never beat him strength to strength. My best strategy lay in speed and surprise. Which I could not exercise in my current position. For the moment, I'd have to rely on bravado. “I know your name.”

“Then use it, Ursula. This conversation is between you and me, not our roles in the world.”

“See, that's where you don't understand me at all, mercenary. You have a profession, which you may do very well, but you do it for pay. I
am
my role in the world. There is no separation of selves. I can't escape that, even if I wanted to. You may be a man first and a mercenary second, but I'm the Heir to the High Throne and because of that a warrior for my kingdom and only incidentally a woman. The last is the least important.”

“Only because you don't put the woman first,” he countered.

“What you don't understand is that I don't care to.”

“Then explain it to me.” He leaned on one elbow. “We have time and a place now.”

“Yes, you certainly made sure of that.”

“I did. So if you care to condemn me for it, I'll accept the sentence on those terms. But first I want my prize. What I did this for. Tell me about your other lovers and why they left you so cold.”

When Danu raised the moon. “No. And I'm not cold.”

Faster than I expected, his hand snaked out and grabbed mine. “Cold,” he repeated.

“If that's your seduction technique, it wants improvement.” I tugged my hand away, but he simply scooted closer, as if I'd drawn him in. “Keep your distance.”

“Which is it, Ursula—do you want my seduction technique or my distance?”

My back hit the cliff wall, Danu take it. “Your distance.” I hardened my voice into command. “Don't think I won't cut your throat.”

He stayed where he was—far too close—and rubbed his thumb over my palm. “I'm sticking. I need the reason, to understand how you can want me and still refuse me at every turn.”

“I don't want you.” A last-ditch effort to escape his relentless attack.

A weak one and he knew it, pressing his advantage. “Let's dispense with that artifice. You like what you see when you look at me; you warm and soften when I touch you. That's not the problem. What is?”

“Some of us don't have the luxury of indulging in everything that takes our fancy.”

“What's the harm? I'm a simple mercenary who poses no threat to the throne. I won't get you with child. We're alone for the night. I'm bought and paid for.” A smile in his voice, he pressed a kiss to my palm, and I shivered before I locked down the response. For an unhinged moment, I entertained the possibility. To touch and be touched in return. To have this sweet warmth run all through me, like a spring thaw.

But I knew where this led.

I yanked my hand away, scrubbing the kiss away on my pants. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I—” I shifted restlessly, needing to pace. To escape this questioning, which laid my heart open as surely as a flaying knife. “I just can't.”

“Are you a virgin?” he asked, careful and quiet.

I laughed at that, jagged. If only. “At my advanced age? Hardly.”

“Rape?”

His voice came out harsh enough that before I squelched the impulse, I reached out to touch the hand that automatically went to his sword. “No. Not that. Never think that. I was willing.”

“Then what happened?”

I shrugged. Holding off the memory of that night. Making it stay quiescent. “Nothing to speak of. I agreed. I tried it and I didn't care to repeat the experience. Ever.”

“Only once?”

“Believe me, once was enough.” Enough to keep me awake for years until I learned to set it aside. Where I should have left it. What about this mercenary made me dredge it up again?

“Who was it?” Suspicious anger ran deep in his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

Yes. Oh, yes, it had hurt. And I had broken my rule and wept. Told him to stop, that I'd changed my mind, but he hadn't. I'd come away from that night wounded in some unhealable way, where the blood never dried, broken inside. So strange, the injuries of the invisible self. I'd take a physical hurt over that any day.

And now . . .

Now these questions brought back those memories I'd thought dulled by time, their edges as sharp as the dagger that slices, leaving you bleeding out before you feel the pain.

“I'm not talking about this.” My words came out on a gasp, my chest so tight I had no breath. “I have to move. Let me out.”

Thank Danu, he moved out of my way and I lunged to my feet, gulping in deep lungfuls of the sweet mountain air. Head swimming, I leaned my hands on my knees, head down, willing my heart to stop its frantic pounding. Forcing the tea to stay down.

A hand on my shoulder made me spin, my dagger in my hand before I knew it, pressing the point to the soft spot at Harlan's throat. He held up his palms in surrender, expression full of some sorrow.

“I'm not the enemy, Ursula,” he said gently, as if I didn't hold his life in my hands. “I'm not him.”

“He's not—wasn't the enemy either.”

“That's a matter of debate. He hurt you. That makes him my enemy.”

I sighed. Sheathed the dagger in a slow, deliberate movement. “It's ancient history. Go slay dragons for some other princess.”

“How many times must I say it?” He settled big hands on my waist, testing my reaction, then cupping my hips when I didn't protest. I flattened my palms on his muscled shoulders, holding him off as much as I could muster. We stood eye to eye and worlds apart. “I don't want some other woman. It's all about you. I want you.”

“Surely even you know we never get everything we want.”

“That doesn't mean we give up trying.”

“I can't give you what you're asking for. I can't talk about this. Don't ask me to.”

He let out a long breath, the sense of strategic retreat palpable. “All right. I'll let it go for now. And I'll take whatever you're able to give. Even if this much of you is all I can ever have.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, mercenary.” I tried for a dry tone, but I'd gone breathless again. In a different way this time. My heart pounding another rhythm. The way I'd felt seeing his golden skin gleaming with oil and sweat.

“I always keep my promises.” He edged me closer. “So here's one for you: tell me to stop and I will. No matter what. Always.”

He leaned in. I readied the words on my tongue, but he did nothing more than brush my cheekbone with a kiss, as light as a butterfly's wing. I held my breath, waiting for the awful to rise up.

It didn't.

Harlan waited, too, then, with a deep hum that I felt more than heard, he kissed my other cheek, at the high point just below the temple. Warmer this time, a tingle of heat that filtered into my bloodstream. Both energizing and comforting.

“Does this hurt?” he whispered, and I realized he meant my bruises. Of course he meant those, not that other, invisible wound.

“No,” I breathed, surprised to find that was true of both, that I'd changed my grip so that I no longer held him away, but curled my fingers into his shirt, absorbed in the sweetness of his mouth on my skin.

“May I kiss you?” He'd already trailed several more soft kisses down my cheek, to the line of my jaw, to the corner of my mouth. But he hovered there, waiting for me to decide. He meant more than he had already. A real kiss. Like lovers do. Like I never had.

“I don't know how,” I admitted, hating that I had to, certain that I should say so. A concession in that it revealed so much about that other time, that awful night. So many skills I'd perfected, and yet I'd never kissed anyone, mouth to mouth. Amelia had awakened her lover that way, with a deeply sensual kiss that had stabbed me with a strange emotion. At the time I'd put it down to suspicion of Ash's motives. Now I wasn't sure what it was. Envy, perhaps.

More, I'd wanted to know how that felt, if only once.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, lips a breath away.

“All right.” I braced myself and he chuckled, low and deep, running his hands up my back in that sensual, soothing way.

His mouth feathered against mine, exquisitely gentle, barely there and gone. I sighed out, breath mingling with his, and it seemed we created a web that drew our lips together again, lightly caressing, sweet, almost innocent.

My heart softened, thudding with lulled beats.

“More?” he asked.

“More,” I agreed.

He changed his angle, careful of my broken nose, and kissed me again. Deeper this time, lips moving over mine with leisurely heat, opening and inviting me to do the same. Vaguely surprised at myself, I wanted to taste more of him. The inner edge of his lips possessed a velvety texture, a contrast to his man's mouth and the slight scrape of stubble on his face.

Then his tongue touched mine. His hands soothed me before I realized I'd tensed. Another kind of stroking, this. But one that went to the core of me, the hot glide of his mouth on mine. I made a sound, something incoherent, needy, and he pulled away, surveying my face.

“Still okay?”

“I don't know.” An honest answer, if an unsteady one.

“Let's sit.” He took my hand, lacing his roughened fingers with mine, and coaxed me back to the pallet.

“I don't think—”

“Shh. Don't think.” He tugged me down to sit beside him. “Only kisses and only if you want to. I won't hurt you, Ursula.”

Taking my hands, he pressed his mouth into each palm, in that place he'd found me to be so vulnerable, and this time I let the shiver take its course. A delightful fire that shimmered through my blood, heating me throughout. He drew my hands behind his neck, then slowly lay back, guiding me to lie atop him, steadying me with his gentle hold on my hips.

“Kiss me, little hawk,” he urged. “Your mouth is like the finest wine.”

“You can save the flattery and compliments.” A line I should draw, though the muscled bulk of his body under mine made me even more breathless. I might as well be some seaside recruit newly arrived to Ordnung's heights, as much trouble I seemed to be having keeping my breath. “I'm not a woman who needs romance.”

He brushed my cheek with light fingertips. “On the contrary. I think you need it more than most. You've had so little of it in your life. Kiss me.”

I studied his mouth, picked my angle, and settled my lips on his, anticipating now the delicious shock of contact. My breath rushed out in a long sigh, and he swallowed it, hands roaming down my back, never dropping below the line of my hips.

Softening with the sensation, not caring that he'd called me on that very thing, I relaxed against his reassuring bulk, sinking into his scent, taste, and texture. I lost myself in him, in the long, slow moments of tongue glide and sweet caress of lips. Restlessness built in me, like a hunger for more food after a few tastes. Like I wanted to take bites out of him, or lap him up. I shifted, moving to deepen the kiss, and he flinched, making a pained sound.