Page 53 of WarBride

She is still for a long moment. Then she nods.

“Is there anywhere else you would prefer to go?”

Another long pause, followed by a short shake of her head.

“Very well then.”

I urge Elydark forward, and we make our way down that empty, mud-choked road. Nothing about this sits well with me. The girl is so determined to keep her secrets. I truly know nothing about her, this living enigma who has somehow fallen into my hands. I wish I did not have to leave her, wish I had time to explore more deeply into her mysteries. Something tells me there is a great deal to be discovered, and those discoveries will be well worth the effort.

But that is a pleasure for some other man. The man who eventually succeeds in gaining her trust . . . and her heart. Not for the husband she never chose, the one who bought her against her will, who carried her into captivity. I certainly do not deserve her trust. I do not deserve her love.

And I don’t seek it. My responsibility is through. I saved her from Lurodos. I helped her discover the fate of her sister. Now I will deliver her to her own kind and be off. My people need me. Ashika, Kildorath, and the others await my coming at the Luin Stone, but they cannot wait much longer. The Hidden City needs the protection of its Licornyn Riders. We have already been away too long.

My gaze strays from the road before me, down to the dark head of the girl slumped against my chest. Though I try not to,I cannot help being aware of the round softness of her body, of the way she nestles between my legs. The sensation brings other memories to life—the smell of her in my nostrils, the taste of her on my tongue. Gods above, why does she affect me so? It’s been some time since I was with a woman, yes, but she is a stranger. Our time together was always meant to be brief. One night of passion and then goodbye. That was the agreement. I certainly cannot offer her more.

And yet my arm, wrapped loosely around her waist, tightens slightly. I feel again the constricting burn of thevelracord eating into my skin. My heart rate increases, and my breath grows tight in my chest.

Vellar,Elydark’s song murmurs in my head,do you sense danger ahead?

No, my friend,I hasten to assure him.No, all is well.

Why does your heart beat so fast then?

I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to admit the sickness, the anger, the fear churning in my gut. Perhaps if I do not tell him, I can make it not be so.

We come to a turn in the road at last. The town lies before us, huddled between two hills, all squat gray buildings in this sad gray landscape. Clouds roll in, carrying mizzling rain with them. Everything about the prospect is bleak and sad and colorless.

“We’re here,” I say, my voice deep in my chest. “This is as far as I dare go. Humans cannot see Elydark or me either while I ride him. But they will see you floating in mid-air, and you’ll be hard-pressed indeed to explain it. Best if you dismount and walk on from here.”

She nods. With my assistance, she slips from Elydark’s back and lands lightly on the ground below. She looks so strange, this human girl, standing in the human world, but clad in the garments of my people. She huddles in the folds of a Licornyncloak, her gaze downcast. The damp air plasters strands of dark hair against her cheeks.

I draw a breath through clenched teeth. Then, untying one of my saddlebags, which I prepared in advance, I hand it down to her. “There,” I say. “Supplies. Food, spare clothing. A little human coin even. It’s not much, but . . . I hope it will serve.”

She nods, clutching the bag to her chest.

“And you are quite sure there are people here who can help you? Who can return you to your family?”

“Yes, I am sure.” Her voice is soft and low. She draws a deep breath which shudders slightly. Then: “You have done enough, warlord.”

She speaks the words without malice or bite, but I hear the accusation nonetheless. Even now she blames me for her pain. And how can I deny it? Perhaps I could have done more. Perhaps I could have protected both her and her sister.

It is done, however. My choices, whether good or ill, cannot be unmade. I have nothing more to offer her save regret and a hope that her life, once free of me, will prosper.

So I nod. Then, on impulse, I lean in my saddle, reach out, and touch her cheek with one knuckle. She shivers but does not withdraw, and I let my finger trail down to her chin, tipping her face back so that I might look at it. At last she lifts those brown eyes of hers to meet my gaze. Gone is that fire, that spark, which had so heated my blood in the dark, secret hours we spent together. All that remains are ashes.

“Be well,zylnala,” I murmur. And what more is there to say to this woman, this wife, this stranger? I wish I could offer something, some acknowledgement of what these last few hours have meant to me. But I myself do not understand. An impulse comes over me to lean down and kiss her, and I almost give in to it. But what would be the good of that? She is not mine. I may not casually take such pleasures from her.

Retracting my hand, I turn Elydark’s head about and set my back to her, determined not to look over my shoulder. Not to seek a last glimpse of that forlorn figure, standing there in the big, gray, winter-caught world.Go, Elydark!I sing into my licorneir’s head. He breaks into a canter then a gallop. I lean over his neck, eager to cover the distance between us and the gate, eager to leave this world behind.

Within a few paces, I gasp. A sudden searing pain shoots up my arm. It’s so sharp, so unexpected, light seems to explode in my head. I struggle to draw breath and nearly fall from the saddle.

Vellar?Elydark’s voice hums inside me.Vellar, you are suffering.

I’m fine,I answer grimly, shaking my head, shaking that shock out of my senses.Get us out of here.

You should not let her go. Your hearts-bond belongs with you.

She is not mine.A growl rumbles in my throat, even as my song rings silently in my licorneir’s head.We are not bound.

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