Without a Front (29 page)

In the ensuing silence, Andira took a large gulp of her spirits. “So much from something so simple. If I'd known…”

“You wouldn't have given her the warmron?”

The fact that she didn't immediately say no told Lanaril more about this relationship than anything else.

Andira gazed out the window, where the top of the State House towered over the trees. “She needed comfort,” she said quietly. “If you could have sensed what was pouring out of her then… She's been carrying a heavy load of responsibility while mourning the loss of her mother, and she couldn't lean on her family, because they're leaning on her. She was so alone
.
And yes, I could have offered a palm touch and projection, but it wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough.”

Lanaril smiled to herself. She knew exactly why it hadn't been enough, but for the first time in their friendship, Andira seemed unaware of her own emotions.

The smile dropped as she remembered something else from her readings.

“There's one more thing you need to be aware of,” she said.

Andira looked back in concern. “And it's worrying you.”

“Keep in mind that these are just stories. I don't know how true they are, but given the fact that the old stories described your empathic flashes, yes, I'm worried that this might be an issue. Once you complete your bond, the link may also extend to the physical. There are tales of both tyrees showing symptoms when only one was ill, or physical injuries being transmitted across the bond. There's even a story of both tyrees dying from a mortal injury to one.”

Andira sucked in a breath. “She'll be a proxy assassination target.”

“If word of the true nature of your bond gets out…I'm afraid that might be the case.”

“Well, that's just perfect!” Andira's voice rose on the last word as she pushed herself out of her chair. “Salomen will hit the farthest moon! She already hates that part of my life. She hates my Guards, she hates the idea of having to even think about power and politics, and I can only imagine what she'll say if I tell her she can't go to the shekking seed store without informing her very own Lead Guard first.” She stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips. “This will kill the bond. She'll never consent to such a life, and even if she did, how could I allow her to make herself as much of a target as I already am?”

“You don't have a choice.”

“I don't accept that!”

“So you'll deny the bond? And become mentally crippled when that fire starts to burn out your brain along with your empathic senses? Will you watch
her
become mentally crippled?”

Andira dropped into the chair and let her head rest on its back. “I've dreamed about a tyree bond my whole life. This morning I thought it was a sick joke. Now it seems like a nightmare. What's next? Does it get worse than nightmare, or is this as bad as it gets?”

Lanaril reached across and took her hand. “Listen to me. This is not a nightmare, it is a gift from Fahla
.
Do you understand what that means? She
chose
you for this. She blessed you and Salomen beyond anything I've ever seen. You just…hurried her blessing along a bit, so it feels overwhelming right now. But it won't always feel that way. I have faith that you and Salomen will get through this, and there will come a time when you will embrace this with a full heart. In fact, I'll lay down a bet right now. I say that within three moons, you are going to walk through that door and tell me that you cannot imagine living without your bond. You're going to tell me that you can hardly remember a time when you were afraid.”

“I'm not afraid for myself. I'm afraid for Salomen.”

Lanaril smiled. “Bring her with you when you come to tell me I was right.”

CHAPTER 48
Confession

 

“You must be joking.”

“I wish I were.”

Tal was in her window seat, watching Salomen pace the room. She had flown back to Hol-Opah in time for evenmeal, and though she had fronted her disquiet, apparently her front was already porous. Once the table was cleared, Salomen wasted no time coming to her room and asking for the news.

She was exactly as happy as Tal had predicted.

“This is beyond tolerance! It was only after midmeal that I even began to get comfortable with the idea of you as my tyree. Now I'm supposed to accept that we're not even normal tyrees?” With a potent glare at Tal, she sank onto her chair. “I can't believe it. Fahla! From the day you stepped onto my holding—”

“I turned your life upside down? Destroyed your peace of mind? Made you wish you'd never taken Norsen's place in the delegation?”

“That's not what I meant to say.”

“Then what did you mean to say? Because I certainly did the first, and I'm almost certain I did the second.”

“But you did not do the third.” Salomen was calmer now. “I can't regret meeting you. Nothing about my life is even remotely within my control anymore, but I know that you…that we are meant to be here. I just don't want it to be like this. Not like this, Andira. It's too much.”

If they hadn't been in this stupid situation, Tal would have pulled her into a warmron, kissed her, and told her they would both be fine. How ironic that they were fated to be bonded at a deeper level than most Alseans, yet here they sat, a body length apart and afraid to touch each other. Afraid of taking one more step toward a connection they could not control.

Afraid even to show their emotions,
she realized. Both of them were fronting, an instinctive self-protection against the very person they were not supposed to need it with.

“We're doing this all wrong,” she said, and let go of her front.

Salomen's eyes widened, her surprise growing when Tal pushed out of the window seat and sat on the floor in front of her chair.

“From the day I stepped onto your holding,” Tal said, “I was fascinated by how different you are here, in your home and on your land. There's such warmth and depth, and great Goddess, the way you smile at the people you trust…” Her gaze dropped to Salomen's lips, which held no smile but were at least no longer pressed together in a frustrated line. “I understood that in five moons I'd never seen the real Salomen Opah. I think that's why I chose to begin our instruction the way I did, by asking to know more about you. You were right, that wasn't the usual method. I told myself I needed your trust for our training to work, but in truth…I just wanted it. I wanted that warmth you gave to everyone but me.”

“Even though you did your best to keep me on the defensive?”

“I didn't say I was consistent about it.”

Salomen relaxed slightly, a half-smile finding its way out as she dropped her own front. “I wanted your warmth, too. I never thought I'd get it.”

Tal breathed in the complexity of her emotions and rested a hand on her leg, trusting that clothing would protect them from an empathic flash. “We're getting a lot of things we never expected, aren't we?”

“Those might be the truest words you've spoken yet.”

“I don't want it like this either, Salomen. But I think that even if we were not tyrees, our hearts would eventually have spoken to each other.”

Salomen covered her hand. “I think our hearts have already been speaking. I just don't enjoy being forced to listen before I'm ready.”

“That's nearly what I told Lanaril, though I might have used more profanity.”

“Of course you would use profanity with the Lead Templar of Blacksun.”

“By now she's used to it.”

“You're good at pushing people past their normal boundaries, aren't you?” But without her front, Salomen couldn't make the question sound like anything more than it was: a statement of her own discomfort. After a pause she added, “Thank you for letting me in. It feels better knowing that you're just as nervous as I am.”

“If all you sense is a case of nerves, then we need to work on your skills.”

A familiar crinkle appeared above her nose as she concentrated on sensing more deeply. “You're afraid…of me? Why?”

Tal looked at her askance. “Wasn't it just this morning you were apologizing for hurting me? I can't imagine the power you'll have as this develops.”

“Exactly as much power as you'll have over me. You're not the only one who has been hurt.”

Well, that was true. Tal had conveniently forgotten her own apology. “After listening to Lanaril today, I can assure you I'll never call this a joke again.”

“Ah. And you think that was the first time?” Salomen shook her head. “You've hurt me since the day you arrived. It hurt when you showed me a glimpse of yourself on our first night of training and then went back to being the Lancer. You gave me something precious, and then you took it away again. Every night after that you did the same thing. You have no understanding of how intimidating you can be; when you're fronting, it's like nothing is there at all. I kept seeing glimpses of the real woman behind that front, and I found myself drawn to her, but then you would take her away and present me with that impenetrable wall. And all the while you kept asking me those questions. You were learning about me, but I wasn't allowed to learn about you.”

“I was teaching you. It's not appropriate—”

“Stop hiding behind that! It was never just about being my teacher and you know it. It was about holding the upper hand. So I'm wondering if you're really afraid of me hurting you, or if you're just afraid of us being on equal footing.”

“That is the most—” Tal snapped her mouth shut before she could start another argument.

“Why would you be so angry right now if there wasn't some truth in that?” Salomen asked.

“Because you just called me a coward!”

“I did not ca—”

“Of course you did! Who else is afraid of a fair fight but a coward?”

“Is that what this is? A fair fight?”

Tal let out a growl of pure frustration and tried to pull her hand back, but Salomen held it in a surprisingly strong grip.

“I have never thought you were a coward,” she said. “But I do think you've spent your life climbing through a power structure, all the way to the top. And you didn't get there by letting anyone close enough to see your vulnerabilities.”

Tal relaxed her hand as her anger drained away. “You sound like you've been studying the Truth and the Path.”

It was a feeble joke, but Salomen nodded. “I had to figure you out one way or another.”

“You and your research,” Tal grumbled, though there was no heat in it. The anger had gone as quickly as it had come, and now she just felt tired. “I don't even know what we're doing here. This all started because I wanted to make you feel better.”

Salomen let out a soft snort. “I guess we need some practice at this.”

“Words for Fahla.” Tal turned her hand over, watching as Salomen clasped it. “Perhaps we just need to trust her. Neither of us had the other in mind when we dreamed of our tyrees, but she's already given us more than we were able to imagine for ourselves.”

“It's not trust in Fahla that I have an issue with.”

That stung, but it wasn't as if Tal didn't feel the same way.

“I'm sorry,” Salomen began, but Tal shook her head.

“No, don't apologize. I deserve that.”

“But it's not just me. You don't trust me either.”

It was really just a political negotiation, Tal thought. They were two warring parties who had found common cause and were poised to sign a binding peace treaty. But they each had a pen in one hand and a sword in the other.

“We have to lay down our swords,” she said without thinking.

“What?”

“We have to learn to trust each other. Somehow.”

The room was silent while she contemplated their clasped hands and wondered how long they had before even this set off a flash.

“If we are to learn that,” Salomen said slowly, “then I need to know something.”

“I'll tell you anything in my power.”

She felt Salomen gathering herself; this was clearly a critical piece of information.

“Who was she? The one you loved? Because I don't understand how you can accept our tyree bond as you seem to when you have someone else in your heart.”

Stunned by the last question she had expected, Tal pulled her hand back. This time Salomen let her go, watching as she rose and turned away.

“How much do you know?” Tal asked, her gaze on the darkening landscape.

“I know it was one of the Gaian aliens. I felt it when you shared your memory of the warmron. And I felt it again this morning, on our way to the fields—a love you're still mourning a cycle after they left. I don't know how to compete with a memory.”

“There is no competition.” Salomen had sensed all that?
Through
her front? She ran her hands through her hair and waited for the right words to come. But there was no way out of this other than the truth.

Turning back, she held out a hand. “Come and sit with me.”

She pulled Salomen out of the chair and led her to the window seat, letting her settle in before taking her usual spot on the opposite end of the cushion. With her back against the wall, she folded her legs beneath her and faced her future tyree.

“Her name was Ekatya Serrado. She was the captain of the ship.”

“Of course it was their leader.” Salomen's mental retreat was instantaneous.

“And she was a bonded tyree,” Tal continued, watching as all of Salomen's assumptions ground to a halt.

“What?” she whispered.

“The Gaians are all sonsales, but it seems they're capable of tyree bonds. At least, these two were.”

“You loved another's tyree?”

“I loved a woman who understood power and the demands of a heart that belonged to something bigger than herself. A woman who recognized the role I play and still saw me as a person. She was not just their leader, and she understood that I'm not just the Lancer.”

“She saw the thinking, feeling Alsean,” Salomen said.

Tal recognized her own words from that morning. “Yes, she did. And I had never before had that experience. Not from someone I'd just met.”

“Did she know how you felt?”

“Not until right before she left. Even then I wouldn't have said anything, but her bondmate encouraged me.”

Salomen slumped against the wall. “I can't believe it. Her
bondmate
told you to speak?”

“She said Ekatya would understand. And she was right.”

“So you told Ekatya…what? That you loved her?”

Tal had to remind herself that it was Salomen asking the question. This was the one person on Alsea who had the right to know.

It still took a moment to get her voice to work.

“I told her that had she not been tyree, I would have pursued more than a friendship.”

“What did she say?”

“She said…” Tal cleared her throat. “She said that had she not been tyree, I would have succeeded.”

She looked out the window, clenching her jaw to force back the tears that threatened. Taking slow, deep breaths, she tried to box up the emotions—and failed. Speaking it aloud had made compartmentalization impossible.

Time stretched out in painful silence as she listened to the maelstrom of emotions that emanated from Salomen. For someone who was trying to convince a reluctant tyree, she had certainly started off with her worst move.

But the emotions shifted, and Tal couldn't understand where that compassion came from. She didn't deserve it.

“Thank you for telling me,” Salomen said at last. “I can feel what that cost you, and I promise your trust is not misplaced.”

Tal could only nod, her gaze locked on the distant mountains.

“And I don't wonder anymore why she's still in your heart.”

That brought her head around. “Why?”

Leaning forward, Salomen brushed a lock of hair behind Tal's ear. “Because she is the dream you touched but could not hold. And sometimes that's worse than never touching the dream at all.” She let her fingers continue their journey, gently sifting the strands of hair, and Tal felt all of her bones turning to liquid. “Had she told you she could never have loved you, I think you would have been able to put aside her memory more easily. You would only have had to forget your own emotion. But her words meant you had to forget both your emotions
and
hers. And you cannot do that, can you?”

“I tried,” Tal whispered. “And it worked, after a while. I really thought I was over it. But this morning it all came up again, as strong as ever.”

“In the skimmer.”

She nodded miserably.

“Andira…” Salomen's voice changed, carrying a note of tenderness. “That was my fault. And I'm truly sorry, but—maybe it was for the best. I understand now. I know how I hurt you so easily, without meaning to. But I can heal you as well, and that's something Ekatya Serrado could never do.”

“Why not?” Tal's eyes were closing at the sensual touch.

“Because she could not love you.” Salomen's fingers slipped from her hair and lifted her chin. “But I can.”

They were deep into the kiss before Tal's dazed mind processed the last words she had heard. In an instant her bones solidified, and she surged up to bury her hands in Salomen's hair. The kiss turned passionate as they both forgot their fears and allowed themselves to feel the bond that pulsed between them. It was so strong, almost a physical entity. How had she not felt it before? Why—?