Page 30 of Shifter King
He turned to face and took hold of her hand. "You will not be able to watch most of it, veskaro. It will wound you deeply. Do you understand this? If I ask you to leave, it is for your own good."
"I know." She closed her eyes, reaching up to touch her temple. That faint pulse pressed harder again as the Ki Valo Nakar stirred within her. "I know that this will be hard, but I don't think there's any other way to stop the Abliatos. And every day, more and more people are dying and suffering. Just on the outside of the city…Besides, I did promise you that I would stand by you in something like this. I gave you my word."
His expression softened, the harshness in his eyes lessening. "We will see what your response is when first blood is shed."
"I prepared all my life to kill for a purpose," she responded, her voice thick with emotion and her chest tight. "And while I expected the bloodthirst and the blood curse to give me that edge, I was prepared to go forward even if it did not feel good. I feel deeply, but I am not bound by my feelings, Naatos. Sometimes death is the only answer." She certainly had thought it was with him for decades. Her mouth went dry. "But if another better answer does present itself, I will tell you."
A faint smile pulled at his lips. "I do not doubt you will. But know that in this I want only blood. I have considered pacifism, Amelia. I have tried to let the worlds be what they are. And do you know what happens? People choose wrong. And then the worlds start to burn. If you want to make a difference, you make it where it counts, and it always costs blood. This time I guarantee it will because I will accept nothing less."
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his hard chest. It was like hugging a bristling storm cloud stuck upon a mountain. His consciousness pressed against hers, harder and sharper than before. But her barriers held. All the space and distance between them had vanished.
He put his arms around her as well, resting his chin on the top of her head. Vague thoughts and words pressed up, surging hard against those boundaries once more. If she focused, she might have found their meaning, but she did not push against them. She just held him. "I trust you, veskare," she whispered. "I trust you to help get your people free and stop this tyranny. I'm—" The words died as she realized she couldn't say it even if it was true. She wasn't sure that the Tue-Rah could be restored and time set back to what it was. That seemed far too optimistic a thing to hope. It might be that the Tue-Rah could not be restored in this place for decades. And the suffering, it existed now. It was better to focus on this. Make a difference here. Then handle the matters involving the Tue-Rah.
He nodded. A faint pulse of something like gratitude moved through him before vanishing back into the storm. She burrowed a little closer. Her veskare. Her abrasive beloved. Her scorpion.
"Do you want to be alone?" she asked at last, pulling back enough to see his face.
A slow smirk pulled at his mouth. "For a time." He stroked a line from her temple to her chin with his knuckle. "It will be safer for you back at the camp."
"Don't go too far." She stepped back, reluctant to let him go. "And don't try to take Darmoste on your own."
He rolled his eyes but smirked all the more for half a breath. "Get back to the camp, woman. I don't want to worry about your safety in this state.""I need to focus on vengeance. She doesn't need to see this part of me again."
She tried to smile as she stepped back. He hadn't meant her to hear that last part. "I love you."
"And I you," he said.
THE BEALORN PROPOSAL
It didn't take long to return to the camp, and Amelia wasn't especially shocked to discover that both QueQoa and WroOth had left as well. AaQar alone did not seem to have the need to rage and attack. His nostrils flared, his muscles remained taut, but the anger that flowed off him was deeper and more contemplative. He had resumed weaving the rope, his movements fluid despite the tension in his fingers and wrists.
She picked up the pot with the fibers and sat beside him. "Do you want to talk?"
He shook his head, his mouth pinched. Questions darted around him like flies. They hissed at the edges of her mind.
She knotted the fibers and started plaiting as firmly as she could. Her technique was looser than was ideal, and her hands still shook. But at least she was making something productive. There was a comfort in the repetitiveness.
The logs in the fire cracked and sparked. The fragrance of the boiling stew as well as the familiar scent of burning wood did not soothe, nor did it awaken her hunger.
At last, AaQar tossed the end of the rope into the pile. "Something happened. They would not have gone peacefully into that place no matter what they vowed. Their vows permitted defense in certain fashions. Especially when protecting their young or in the defense of the innocent. But something…" He dipped his head forward, his jaw working. "You would have…you would have loved them. It was—" He drew his hand over his eyes. "To see so many that we knew—that was not the end they should have had."
She worked the rope around, adjusting the coil so that it didn't pull so much. "I didn't see any children in the monument," she said softly. "Maybe…" It wasn't a comforting suggestion. What had happened to the children? Even if the parents were lured in to save the children, where had the children gone? She cleared her throat. "Why was Elinar called the Blood Rook?"
"He was a healer. And he perfected the ability to synthesize his own blood into different forms that were stable for exceptionally long periods even in extreme temperatures. He was trying to teach others the practice as well, but it was exceptionally delicate and tedious work. Most in that cadre were healers of one sort or another. Perhaps not physical. But in some fashion. Cruelty begets cruelty, but they were never cruel. Even so they were met with such…"
The silence grew between them as he continued to weave. His hands moved faster; she could not have kept pace even if she tried. She brought her focus back inward, sighed, and then put the kettle back on to boil. She needed more tea to help strengthen her barriers. Somehow she'd have to figure out a way through this. His presence wasn't as hard to hold up against as Naatos's though the river of that grief intensified at points.
Soon the kettle hissed its boiling alert. She prepared her own canteen with the healing herbs and then one for AaQar as well. He nodded weakly as she set it beside him. "They were kind people."
Her wrists stung and ached from the tightness of the cloth strips. Carefully, she undid them and then massaged the blood back through. "I am so sorry," she said. "No one deserved what happened back there."
"No. Not even our worst enemies deserved that." He wove the fibers even faster now, somehow keeping it even and taut. "They would not have…"
"Did we add to this? Did we make this worse?"
She looked up sharply. The skin on the back of her neck tightened and prickled. Had AaQar said that or thought it? It was getting harder to tell. The words had slipped into her mind so clearly.
Closing her eyes, she counted her breaths again. Eight in. Hold. Eight out. Hold.
