Page 69 of Swordheart
“She will not sell,” Sarkis had said.
“Are you certain of that?”
He was. He didn’t knowwhyhe was—he had known the blasted woman for all of a week, after all. She was alone in the world, with very little money until her grasping relatives were dealt with. She could have used the money to set herself up very nicely. It would have been entirely sensible for her to sell.
He also knew that Halla wouldn’t do it.
She is far too tenderhearted and you know her feelings on slavery.
Slavery had been the bishop’s next question, in fact. “Do you wish to be free of her? I confess, there is no legal description of your current status, but if you are in her service unwillingly, it is within my power to decide that you are being held as a slave. That is illegal, and the Temple will fight to have you freed.”
“You willnot!”
He hadn’t realized that he raised his voice until the echoes went clashing around the room. The bishop put up one slow eyebrow at him.
“I am sorry, holy one,” he had said, willing to give her the respect due a true priest, even if she served a soft southern god. “I should not shout. I find Lady Halla’s service acceptable. Compared to many past wielders, it is… congenial.”
She had nodded, and then called Halla back inside.
The congenial wielder in question now looked down at his hand on her elbow, and then pointedly back up at him.
“Sorry,” said Sarkis, releasing her. “I forget myself.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “You’ve been much better about the manhandling.” She frowned up at him. “Anyway, of course I wouldn’t sell! It doesn’t matter how much money they offered me. I mean, you’re a person! That’s not how it works!”
“You would not be the first to grow tired of my company.”
Those gray eyes narrowed. Confusion? Annoyance? “I’m not tired of you,” she said. “You saved me. I’m grateful.”
Sarkis found his jaw clenching. It wasn’t her gratitude that he wanted.
Well, whatdoyou want, then?
He didn’t know. Or rather, he knew exactly what he wanted and it was a terrible idea.
I should not want anything. She is the wielder of the sword and I am her servant. I will serve until I am no longer called to do so. That is all that I can do.
He said this to himself three or four times, until it was absolutely clear in his mind, and then Halla reached out and touched his arm, frowning. “Sarkis? Are you all right?”
“The great god have mercy,” he said, and kissed her.
Sarkis knew that the kiss was a mistake the moment he did it. He kept doing it anyway, at first because stopping a kiss so quickly offended his sense of craftsmanship, and then because it felt too good to stop.
Halla’s lips were warm and soft. So was the rest of her. Her hands lay flat against his chest, and then, as the kiss went on, curled to clutch the edges of his surcoat. He pressed closer against her, feeling her body begin to mold against his.
This is a terrible idea,he told himself conversationally, sliding his tongue along her lips until she parted them.
Yes, and?
Well. Just so you’re clear.
She tasted like apple and she had very little idea how to kiss, but she seemed to be figuring it out quickly. He slid his hands up her arms and tilted his head, deepening the kiss until she made a small sound—approval? astonishment? dismay?He didn’t know, and the fact that he wasn’t sure made him end the kiss and pull back.
This is why it’s a terrible idea. You don’t know what she wants. And even if she doesn’t want you as anything but a guardsman, she needs your services to get her back home safely. She might be afraid to reject you for fear of her own safety.
Better women have made worse bargains, and will again before the world ends. It’s your job to keep her from having to make a bargain like that.
Sarkis might not know what he wanted, but he was damn sure that he didn’t want Halla to submit to his desires simply because she needed his help.
