Alliance Forged (17 page)

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Varian’s voice shook and his fingers flexed where he grasped her arms.

“And you think I do?” Kymora couldn’t help the nervous laugh that spilled from her. “Varian, we can learn together. There’s no benchmark measuring what we do except how we feel.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” He stepped back from her. “But it seems I’m weak.”

“Not weak. Human.” Kymora smoothed her hand down his arm. “Desire should be shared and enjoyed.”

Varian laced his fingers with hers, marveling at the delicate length of them and lighter hue of her skin against his. The smallest of touches from her made him vulnerable, no matter what she claimed, and only the
Lady
knew why she affected him so profoundly, but a small part of him craved every tingle, every prickle of awareness, every shiver of pleasure, to the point where he ignored common sense.

Uneasiness curled in the pit of his stomach. Violence and Kymora didn’t belong anywhere near each other. Hesia had never revealed the specific details of his conception, but all
Na’Chi
were the products of rape. Brutality incarnate. The legacy of his birth was as much a part of him as the traits that gave him dark hair and violet-colored eyes.

He used violence to survive. How many times as a child had he stolen food and clothing from human-slaves who had little enough themselves, breaking or destroying what few belongings they had to make it look like a
Na’Reish
warrior had ransacked their hovel so as not to betray his presence?

He couldn’t count the number of
Na’Reish
he’d killed, whether it was in defense to ensure his own or others’ survival, or deliberate, bloody murder when the smallest chance of discovery outweighed his preference to spare a life. And he knew, even if he had the choice, he’d kill again if it meant saving others.

He and violence were brothers of the same womb. And yet he still wanted to be with her. He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to do everything the others had hinted at in ribald conversations around their watch campfire.

Stroking. Licking.

Teasing. Sucking.

Mating.

But what sort of future could it lead to?

He shook his head. What did Kymora want from him? Did she think he would change if she worked with him long enough? He wanted to, wished for it so many times, but nothing could alter what he was.

“You’ve retreated to that dark place inside you….” Kymora’s quiet accusation drew him back to the present.

She closed the distance between them, her other hand coming to rest in the center of his chest, directly over his heart, and tucked her head beneath his chin. He tried not to notice the softness and curves resting against him nor how well she seemed to fit, like she belonged there.

Her fingers squeezed his. “Sometimes all you need is a little faith to overcome fear. I’m here, Varian, and if you let me, I want to help you.”

Her offer warmed a small part of the darkness within him. How did she do that? Make him believe in the impossible?

A heaviness settled in his gut. Kymora’s life was so different from his despite the surprising commonalities they shared as leaders. When it came down to it, he had little to offer her in return and she had so much to lose. She was better off without him.

He pulled away from her, this time holding her at arm’s length before releasing her. “I won’t live up to your expectations, Kymora.” Surprise lit her face a heartbeat before she frowned, her lips parting. He cut her off before she could speak. “You’re wasting your time trying to help me.”

Bending down, he picked up her staff. When he rose, she was standing in front of him, a speculative look on her face.

“Believing in you isn’t a waste of time, Varian,” she said softly, a familiar stubborn tilt to her chin.

Something remarkably like panic shivered up his spine and wrapped around his neck. She’d worn that same look the night they’d sheltered in the cave, like she didn’t credit what he was saying. He grimaced. The distinct advantage in being able to read his aura
worked in her favor, especially since he lacked any sort of control when he was around her. He felt like he was fourteen years old again.

Vulnerable.

He
hated
that feeling.

The expression on her face gentled. Had she felt
that
, too? He tensed, not needing her pity.

“I’ll take you back to the village.” He thrust her staff into her hands, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

At least there she’d be safe and he’d be able to put some more distance between them. Something he should have done the moment she’d approached him at the burial site.

“W
HEN were you going to inform me of the
Chosen’s
arrival?”

The terse question stalled all conversation around the communal area in the village center until all anyone could hear was the pop and crackle of the fire in the middle of the large area.

Arek glanced toward the couple emerging from the twilight shadows between two houses. Both were silhouetted by the purple-hued sky.

At Varian’s side, Kymora’s expression lit up, a wide smile splitting her face. “Kalan’s here?”

Varian’s dark gaze swept the gathering of
Na’Chi
, humans, and Light Blades, his brow furrowed, the tightness around his eyes and mouth grooved deeply. Arek had little doubt he’d noted and counted the number of extra Light Blade warriors seated in the circle.

“I’m here, Kym.” Dressed in full battle leathers, her brother rose from where he’d been sitting with Lisella and Zaune. He stripped off his gloves and tucked them into his belt as he crossed the circle to
engulf Kymora in a tight hug. “Arek’s messenger arrived late last night. We’ve ridden hard to get here.”

Bringing him up to date on the aftermath of the attack and attempt on Kymora’s life had taken the best part of an hour. Arek had never seen Kalan so furious as he had been during their visit to the house where the renegades were being held. The chill in his green-eyed gaze as he’d stripped them of their amulets, then questioned them reminded Arek of the day the Blade Council had passed judgment on Davyn, his grandfather, for trying to kill Annika.

Arek shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Having a
Na’Chi
half sister still made the skin on his scalp crawl, thanks to a lifetime of his grandfather’s influence, but training with the scouts had helped somewhat.

The memory of their first terrible meeting haunted his thoughts. He’d wanted to kill Annika. The shame of his own actions weighed like a millstone around his soul, but a lifetime of beliefs were harder to shake than he ever thought possible.

A shiver worked its way along his spine. That he’d allowed himself to be blinded by Davyn’s brand of hatred turned his stomach. A part of him still loved the man he remembered as a young boy, but the way he’d betrayed the Blade Council by hiding the origins of human and
Na’Reish
history left a hollow ache inside him.

“How is Annika?” Kymora asked.

Her question drew Arek back to the present. She’d released her brother from their embrace. Excusing himself from the group he sat with, he joined Varian, Kalan, and Kymora. Kalan nodded a greeting.

“Busy.” Kalan’s gaze flickered from the
Na’Chi
leader to his sister, lingering on her as if he was making sure she was all right. Reassured, the tense expression on his face eased. “Since she began working at the hospice, Master Healer Candra has her collating all her herbal remedies and recipes into a single journal. She sends everyone her greetings.”

Kymora’s head tilted. “Annika didn’t come with you?”

“She wanted to.” His lips thinned. “But I didn’t know what to expect when we arrived here.” He turned toward Varian. “I’m sorry to hear Geanna, Eyan, and Rystin have completed their Final Journey.” His deep voice was quiet as he held out his arm to the
Na’Chi
leader. The scout gripped his forearm after a momentary hesitation. “
Lady
bless them and your people as they mourn their passing.”

“Thank you.” Varian’s response was short, terse. The lines around his mouth deepened as he tilted his chin toward the crowd. “Why the large contingent of Light Blades?”

“Your people’s safety is important to me, Varian,” Kalan said, softly. His brow creased a moment before clearing. “There is another reason I brought them with me, although that news can wait awhile. Lisella informed me everyone was about to sit down to a meal when we arrived.”

Varian’s jaw flexed and his dark eyes flashed black. So used to the scout’s calm composure, Arek was caught off guard by the uncharacteristic display of temper. He tensed, prepared to step between the two men. The
Na’Chi’s
gaze flickered to him, his nostrils flaring. Arek cursed that his scent gave away his intentions.

“I’m sure that’s Ginn’s cooking I can smell.” Kymora leaned closer to Varian. “And I bet the children are all hungry. I know I am.”

The intense expression on Varian’s face eased to one of tolerant resignation. Just like that, her interference calmed him. Arek’s eyebrows rose at the swift change, and he exchanged a glance with Kalan. They’d seen Kymora work her magic numerous times, usually on pig-headed Councilors.

“I’ll go help Lisella and the others.” Varian transferred Kymora’s hand to her brother’s arm, then excused himself.

As if his agreement were a silent signal, the hum of conversation resumed behind them.

“Lisella was adamant we wouldn’t see Varian until tomorrow
morning.” Kalan’s comment was low, carrying no farther than their small group. “She and Arek told me about Rystin’s challenge.”

Kymora’s eyes closed a moment and her hand tightened on her brother’s arm. “Varian might not show it, but he blames himself for all three deaths.”

“Why?” Arek asked. “The rebels killed the two watchers, and while Rystin’s death came as a shock, Varian was following
Na’Chi
custom.”

“In hindsight I suspect he feels he should have made different choices.” Her statement made Arek shake his head. “I don’t presume to understand the life they led hiding in
Na’Reish
territory, but their safety dictates his every action and decision.” Her smile was sad. “His people’s lives rely on his skill as a leader.”

“No one person should have to bear that amount of responsibility.” Kalan’s soft statement held a thread of anger. “There’s no such thing as perfect choices, Kym.”

“We all know that,” she replied, just as quietly. “But Varian’s the one who has to accept there was nothing else he could have done to prevent those deaths. All we can do is reassure and support him.”

“You seem to have had some success doing that this evening.” Arek glanced across the circle. “Varian returned to the village and he’s now helping with the evening meal.”

Kymora chewed on her bottom lip a heartbeat before speaking. “I haven’t suggested it to him yet, the timing has never been right, but he needs to do more of that. Socialize with his people, with ours.” She sighed. “Having the crafters and their children live with them has helped, but the longer the
Na’Chi
remain isolated, the harder it will be for everyone else to accept them.”

Kalan grunted. “Lead by example.”

“Exactly.” Her nod was somber. “At the moment, his reticence influences others.”

“Perhaps I can assist.”

Arek raised an eyebrow. “How, Kalan? We agreed to give the
Na’Chi
the time and space they needed to acclimatize to living with us.”

The warrior’s jaw tightened. “Let’s eat first. The news I have to share should be told to everyone.”

“But…”

“After the last couple of days you’ve all had, a warm meal, good company, and a chance to relax is something you could all use.” His friend’s green-eyed gaze slashed to him. “Besides, this meeting could take a while.”

“You know what Kalan’s like when he’s made up his mind, Second.” Kymora tucked her hand into his elbow. “Let’s go get our meal. I’m hungry.”

Reminded she probably hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, well before the attack on the village, Arek placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “My apologies, Kymora.”

With him on one side and Kalan on the other, they headed over to the line forming before the servers. During the next half hour, conversation was minimal or light as everyone ate in small groups scattered around the open area.

Arek caught Kalan’s eye and tilted his head to his right. Bowl in hand, Varian stood alone near the wall of a house. While his stoicism and shuttered stare were enough to deter anyone from joining him, after several minutes of observation, not one
Na’Chi
made the effort to include or invite him into their group. They all avoided or ignored him.

“Varian’s by himself again, isn’t he?” Kymora’s question was tinged with quiet pain.

Arek shared another more startled glance with Kalan. “You’re reading our auras?”

“Not yours,” she murmured. “His.”

“Across this distance? You’re able to pick his out from among so many others?” Kalan asked, voice reflecting his surprise.

She put aside her bowl, her brow furrowing. “If you could feel him the way I do, Kalan, you’d understand why I can identify him so clearly. He shouldn’t be alone.”

As she reached for her staff, Kalan placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go.”

Indecision flitted across her face a heartbeat before she acquiesced. Kalan collected two cups and a skin of water before heading to where Varian leaned against the side of the house.

Arek finished the last of his meal. Kymora picked at hers. He reached across to tug on a lock of her black hair as he used to do when they were younger.

“They’ll be fine,” he commented. Her pensive expression didn’t ease. “We’ve a few minutes to spare before the meeting. Why don’t you tell me how Varian convinced you to go swimming in that river, eh?”

That drew a small smile. “Convincing me had nothing to do with it, and I’m sure someone’s filled you in on the facts.”

“Humor me.”

She did and Arek was satisfied when it diverted her attention from her thoughts. His respect for Varian grew when he discovered he’d chosen Kymora’s safety over confronting the two rebels. By the end of her recount, Arek found himself staring across the circle at the scout.