Touch of Iron (The Living Blade #1) (40 page)

But at the same time Nora felt Suranna’s naked arm stretch around her from behind, pressing her into a tight embrace. She heard the queen whisper into her ear.

“
I know exactly how you feel. You despise not being in control of your own life.
”

“What?” Nora shook her head.

She looked down into the cup, but it was empty. And it wasn’t even in her hand anymore but had fallen to the floor. Suranna sat on the throne, a divine queen. But she also stepped gracefully around Nora in one fluid movement and cupped her face gently in her hands. Nora’s mouth was dry. She closed her eyes. The sweet scent was overpowering so close.

“You feel it, don’t you? The helplessness?”

Nora swallowed hard and tried not to look at Suranna’s soft lips open just a little, drawing in her breath as though sucking it from her lungs.

“
You want to be free.
”

The blackness spun before her eyes, a single ray of golden light blurring softly into a tear on the inside of her mind. Nora raised her hand to steady herself against the queen’s shoulder, but her arm went through Suranna’s form like a wisp of smoke. Still, she could feel the queen at her throat. Nora’s knees went weak and bent of their own accord under her weight. The cool black stone was under her hand now, perfectly smooth. And when Nora opened her eyes, she saw her own pale reflection in the black, her own dark twin. Lara, Death Herself, was staring right back at her with her skull grin. Nora gasped in horror, and panic squeezed her heart, making it miss a beat.

There must have been something in that drink… something…

She saw her black mirror image standing tall and upright beneath her, gazing up at her in dawning horror. The world flipped and Nora stood looking down, watching herself scream silently, veins bulging in her forehead. She saw herself pounding her fists against the black surface as though trapped under a thick sheet of ice. The ice at the bottom of the world.

“
Let go.
”

I can’t.

“
Show me what you’re afraid of.
”

Something broke. Her world came crashing down, and Nora fell backward, into the swirling black that shattered like glass under her falling frame. But she couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything. Frozen to her core, she fell…

N
ora landed on her feet,
pulling herself upright after an almighty jolt. Gods, she’d tripped over that fucking cobblestone. The door was just a few more steps away. She staggered toward it and fumbled for the key at her belt in the dark.
Stupid lock. Stupid key. Come on!
A scratching sound behind her made her look back, but the town square had emptied. A few last stragglers from the slaughter feast were standing around the gleaming coals of the fire pits, talking in low voices, their faces lit from below. No one was close by. No one looked up. Funny, it felt like someone had brushed against her. She shook her head. She shouldn’t have had the last cup of wine, she thought, and opened the door. Back home.

The kitchen was silent and dark. A sole candle gave off its golden light on the table where her father sat. He looked up at her from his cup.

Oh gods, no. Anything but this.

Nora stood in the memory of that dark kitchen of her mind and watched herself square her shoulders. It looked just as pitiable from the outside as it had felt on the inside.

“Nora,” her father said, half rising from the kitchen bench. “I didn’t think you’d be back before morning.”

“I’m back.” She hung her cloak on the knob behind the door.

“
I’m back
.” Real Nora spoke the words along with her counterpart. She wished Memory Nora would just keep walking to the stairs.
Go upstairs
. She concentrated on the words.
Go upstairs
. But to no avail. Memory Nora wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t go up the stairs, and it would all happen all over again.

“You can’t change what happened,” Suranna said, suddenly standing at Nora’s side, her long linen garment fluttering in a breeze that didn’t exist. The sight calmed Nora a little. This was a memory. Of course you could change what happened. If she didn’t want to see this, she could just pretend she
had
gone upstairs, gone to bed. People lied to themselves all the time, telling themselves how things had happened over and over again until it became the truth.

A heavy weight pressed down on her, distorting everything. For a moment, she watched Memory Nora smile at her father and then make toward the stairs, one step heavier than the next, her boots sinking into the wooden floor as though it were a tar pit.

“Don’t.” Suranna held out a hand and the memory halted. “To be free, you must face what you fear.”

“Close your eyes and make a wish, Nora.”

It was Mother Sara’s voice. Nora turned. Over the fuzzy outline of her halted memory, another layer was added. Mother Sara scratched the tip of her small, sharp knife across Nora’s upper arm and pressed a piece of white cotton onto the bleeding wound. This Nora was nine years old. She squeezed her eyes shut at the welling blood, trying not to cry.

“One day I’ll marry Father,” she said.

Mother Sara smiled as she hitched up her long skirts and ran the knife across her thigh. On her white skin, paler knife-etched scars showed the signs of the many wishes Mother Sara had made at the Shrine of Hin.

“Maybe you will,” she said as the blood gushed forth.

I had forgotten this
, Real Nora thought, wincing at the memory.
Gods, Sara must have known she was ill already
.

Sara pressed a cotton strip against her flesh and watched with grim satisfaction as it slowly turned deep red.

“If you give the gods your most valuable possession, they may grant your wish.”

“Like Owen?”

“Is he your most valuable possession, sweetie?” Mother Sara’s voice echoed into the memory kitchen, and the picture before them unfroze.

Real Nora shuddered.
Here it comes
, she thought again. Unstoppable. The twins’ curse at work.

Her father’s lips crushed against hers. She opened up to him, letting him in, and for a short glorious moment, the two of them were alive in each other’s arms, her tongue exploring his mouth with zealous passion. She heard him moan and it made her knees weak. He pulled her closer, his strong hand gliding below her waistline. She ran a hand through his hair, grinding her hips against him. Feeling his readiness there made her blood quicken.

Real Nora braced herself.
Here it comes.

Her father stepped back as though stung and made the warding sign over his heart. Just like the villagers did when they saw her passing. It was the sign against evil. Against
her
evil. The evil seductress. The dark twin. The force of the simple sign was crippling. Worse than if he had raised his hand against her in violence. Because that would only hurt for a while and then fade. This was going to stay with her for the rest of her life.

“Oh, gods, you believe it too?” Nora pointed at the sign, wiping her wet mouth with her sleeve.

“Nora,” he started to say and quickly dropped his hand to his side.

“You think I’m evil? You raised me!”

“This shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s what you wanted!”

“Go to your room, Nora.”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” The grin on Nora’s face was twisted in spite. As though he could still be her father after this. She stood, trembling hands clutching her sides.

He wagged a finger at her.

“Now you listen,” he started. “I never—”

“
You
kissed me!”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Suranna interrupted. The scene before them froze once more. The queen had seen enough. “Everyone will believe it was you.”

“It was a mistake. I, I was surprised.”

“You wanted him.”

“I wanted my life to stay the way it was.” Nora pulled herself up straight. “Is that so bad? I wanted us to live together. As a family. We already were one, for crying out loud! I’m not a monster.”

“You’re afraid everyone is right.” Suranna was watching her closely now. “Afraid it was your fault.”

“No.”

Nora stormed past her kneeling father, running up into the dark, two steps at a time. She’d grab the door handle of Owen’s room, and this was where the story would start. She wiped her face with her sleeve and pushed the door open…

…and stepped out onto the
balcony of the Temple of the Wind. Her momentum carried her steps a bit farther to the white stonework. She looked back, recognizing the scene, searching for Diaz, who surely sat meditating in the shadows by the door. Only he wasn’t. He was already at the balustrade with Nora.

“And because it’s a burn,” Memory Nora was saying. “And burns fucking hurt. Anyone who’d do that to themselves is looking to burn away something that hurts more.”

Real Nora watched herself blink, then lean in to Diaz.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Owen.”

She laughed quietly, a knuckle pressed against her lips. Then she looked up once more at Diaz, who had bent down to her, their faces close. He seemed about to say something but didn’t. She lifted her chin as his hand caressed her cheek. Their lips met in a gentle kiss. A touch, an invitation. As though they were back in the training circle, testing each other’s strength. So, a challenge, then. She pressed her body against his and took his mouth violently. They kissed like they fought, hard and unrelenting, his burning touch always a promise of more hidden underneath, holding back. Maddening. She grabbed his belt and hooked her leg around his loins. His hand slid under her thigh, hoisting her up and against the wall in one smooth move.

“Aren’t you passionate?” Suranna said beside Nora, amused.

Nora jumped, startled.

“Er…this never really happened,” Nora stuttered, blushing. In the background she was still in Diaz’s embrace, moaning loudly as they moved together.

“I know,” the queen said. “It’s what you imagine when you touch yourself. The mind doesn’t distinguish.”

They both watched in silence.

“I see a pattern,” Suranna spoke. “Forbidden father figure?”

“No,” Nora sniffed.

Suranna smiled.

“Knowing what you want is the first step forward to freedom. So many people are stuck in denial, stuck with the shoulds: who they should be, how they should live.” Suranna tapped a finger against the corner of her mouth. “Telen is like that. He isn’t a casual lover. He can’t find joy in satisfaction and then walk away. When he loves, he must give himself over completely, and if he can’t, he won’t allow himself to, even if he were burning for you. Do you want him to burn?”

“No.”

“You should. Connection bestows great power.”

Suranna snapped her fingers and the floor beneath them changed to black water. For a moment Nora felt the cold under the soles of her feet. Then her body plunged down, rushing into the chill. The water pressed in around her and she was flailing, unsure which direction was up. She took a deep breath and her lungs filled with water. She broke through the surface, coughing and choking. A burning sensation spread in her chest as she took a rattling breath. A stabbing pain in her gut made her bend double, face splashing into the water again. A hand cupped her face and pulled her upright as she sputtered. She clutched at the arms, holding on for dear life. The pain, though! Like a dagger twisting in her stomach, the white-hot blinding pain of steel penetrating. She gasped.

“Noraya!”

Two voices called out as one. The panic and pain subsided as she was pulled out of the water, first onto the red stone of the floor, her naked body pale as death. But then she was pulled higher, out of her racked body until she was floating just under the domed ceiling of a room that was unknown to her. Suranna was next to her. Below, she saw Diaz next to her writhing body, soaking wet himself but clothed, hoisting himself out of a small round pool. He bent over her as she bucked underneath him in some kind of seizure.

“What’s this?” Nora asked Suranna. “I have no recollection of this.”

“It’s happening right now.” Suranna turned toward her. “You’re suffering the aftereffects of the potion I gave you. Intimacy isn’t always romantic. First thing I tell all my girls when they come here: illusions are for poets.”