Chapter 27

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

TAMAS

I landed on the soft loamy soil, talons tangling in the thick bed of creeper. Once I folded my wings, I loosened my hold on the feathered form and surrendered to the aching feeling of transforming bone. What once took tens of minutes to achieve, now took seconds and the pain was over. In the soft glow of Garrat's flaming torch, I bent and retrieved the handful of black feathers I'd lost during the process, then held them up into the flame until they caught alight.

"You took your time," Osmud grumbled, while rotating his shoulder.

"That arm still bothering you?"

"I haven't had time to rest it with all the trips I'm forced to make back and forth?—"

"Maybe you should ride rather than fly next time." I patted his arm and strolled past him, not ready for a lengthy diatribe about my failings so far. "Garrat."

Garrat's flaming torch cast ghoulish shadows across his face. "Tamas."

We embraced.

"All is well?" I asked, stepping back.

"We've made camp on the southern border of Wilhelm, and on the banks of the Lanrial River. We're in position, waiting your signal. Romelda has gathered five of the blooded."

"Five?" I repeated. "I had hoped for more."

"Many have passed. Fewer choose to be blooded anymore. One thousand years, Tamas," Garrat said. "Many of the Nazeen gave up hope."

"I plan on restoring that hope."

"Huh," snorted Osmud from behind me.

I rolled my eyes. "Ignore him."

"Ignore," snapped Osmud, coming up beside me. "There's plenty that needs ignoring, and it's not up to Garrat to do it."

"What's going on with you two?" Garrat's gaze darted between us.

"Osmud's developed wing strain, and it's put him in a foul mood."

"Tamas is panting like a dog, and it's robbed him of his senses."

"Perhaps Osmud needs some relief of his own to take the edge of?—"

"Osmud can't spare the time because he's forced to babysit?—"

"Shut up or I'll cuff you both. We're planning a war in case that insignificant detail evaded you."

"My mind's on the mark," Osmud said. "Always has been. Which I can't?—"

I sighed. "Leave up. I have my plans?—"

Osmud turned to me. "And what are those, exactly? So far the only plans I see involve bedding a certain?—"

The scrape of a sword leaving its scabbard preceded the blade at my throat by a breath. It was no surprise, and I could've maneuvered myself away in time, but I relented to Garrat's frustration.

"I don't want to hear another word." He glared at Osmud. "We have an army on the other side of the Ashenlands, and you two are scuffing like littluns."

As usual, Garrat was the sense in our threesome. The cold of his blade at my throat snapped my focus back to the task. "Is Romelda sure the Nazeen's spells will work?"

"The spells Romelda thought to conjure proved of little use to most of the Salmun's vile creatures. Nothing new there. We've done three incursions into the Ashenlands since arriving in Wilhelm and made an interesting discovery."

"What might that be?"

A thousand years of lore regarding the impenetrability of the Ashenlands and the might of its vile beasts meant centuries had passed with no northerners daring to venture this deep within. My father took a handful of strong followers and skirted the perimeter a few times and brought back stories, but there was little that could be said about the dark depths.

"There are two types of creatures inhabiting the Ashenlands. We're calling them the source and its manifestations. Romelda says there's powerful magic behind it.

"The source has dull eyes, its manifestations, nasty creatures made corporeal have glowing eyes. It was Romelda who discovered the trick. If you want to kill the horde, you find the source. Otherwise you're fighting an unwinnable war against a deathless army."

"Kill the source—" I said.

"Kill its spawn," finished Osmud.

"Romelda believes the manifestations are never far from the source. Which is handy. She also believes they lure the source to the prey. All you have to do is hold out long enough for it to arrive."

I clapped Garrat on the back. "You have been busy."

"That's not all. We've also discovered the manifestations shy away from light. They'll keep their distance as long as we pass through with enough torches to last the distance."

"That's a lot of torches."

"Plus some help from the Nazeen."

"What about if we set fire to the forest and move through in its wake?" Osmud said.

"We tried. It won't take. Everyone is set to work making torches. Each will carry their own and the Nazeen will add their spells to ensure they glow brighter than is natural and remain lit for the passage."

"This is good," I said. "The king's court has gathered to the south of here. We give the trials time to play out and the king to have eliminated most of his councilmen."

I nodded to Osmud. He'd played his part in planting the treasonous letters within Weselton's Manor for the king's men to retrieve.

"I shall take care of the king and his son while you march the army through the Ashenlands. Then we take out the rest of the noble families."

"And when all the Tannard line are dead, the Salmun will have no choice but to recognize you as heir to the throne."

Before they crossed into the northern realm, the Nazeen combined their power in one last stand against the Levenian, and encased the Etherweave within stone and bound it to the House of Tannard. None but an heir of the Tannard line could unite with the Etherweave and take the Bone Throne; the seat of the Etherweave's power. But unbeknownst to the Nazeen, a soft-hearted Levenian warrior spared King Ricaud's sister from slaughter, which proved their boon, for now they had a Tannard. She was forced into marriage with one of their own, creating a Tannard with Levenian blood links: the new House of Tannard.

A strange melancholic sound rippled through the night air.

"How about we pat ourselves on the back for making good plans somewhere else?" Osmud said.

"We're finished." I rested my hand on Garrat's shoulder. "How long do you think it will take you to cross the Ashenlands?"

"We hope to do it in a day with the Nazeen's help."

"Osmud will send word of when to start your journey."

Garrat nodded, then turned and disappeared through the trees.

"My shoulder won't like this," Osmud grumbled.

But already his words were fading as I took the form of a eagle once more.

****

I left Osmud grouching on the edge of the tent city and headed for my tent. Somewhere behind the tents, a bonfire had been lit, music played, and the smells of roast meat wafted on the gentle breeze. For one moment, I stood outside my tent, contemplating joining the festival to have my fill of ale and spiced meat, but thought the better of it when a wave of weariness sunk in. I'd not slept for days and had spent far too much time as something else other than human form. It was taking its toll.

I felt the disturbance in the air the moment I entered my tent and jerked my upper body away from the attacker's swipe, blocking their strike and flipping them over my shoulder. I intended to pin them to the ground with my weight, but instead I crumpled in a heap with a groan when something slammed into my groin.

"Asshole," Tressya grouched, pushing at my shoulders so I fell to my side on the ground, still nursing my screaming balls.

"Next time…" I inhaled. "Don't surprise…" I huffed. "A Razohan." I cupped my hands delicately between my legs. "My fucking balls."

"I saw you head into the Ashenlands." She coughed. "What's this? A feather."

I opened my eyes and looked up at her, seeing her hold the black feather up to the thin ray of moonlight that had found a gap in the tent flap. I found the strength to release one hand from my balls. "That's mine." And I snatched it out of her hold.

"You can change into a bird?"

"I'm a shape-shifter, Tressya. I can be what I want."

"Not only do you have the souls of people inside of you, you have animals as well?"

"A boon and a curse, remember?"

I eased myself back onto my knees. "Are you going to help me up?"

Tressya stood and walked further into the tent and out of the moonlight. At least she was walking in and not out of my tent, though I doubted there would be any stirring down below since it felt like I was wearing my balls inside.

I heard the rasping of flint in my iron bowl, followed by a small flame as the dandelion seeds caught alight. Tressya lit my candle from the small flames, then set it aside on the same wood table beside my bed.

It took some effort, but I climbed to my feet and hobbled across the tent. Once at my bed, I collapsed onto my back and gently stretched myself out, covering my face with my arm to hide my smile. The smile was because she stayed perched next to me rather than leaving my bed for the other side of the room.

"You haven't bothered to change back into one of your gowns?"

"It's dark. Who's going to see. Besides, everyone's at the festival, and this outfit is far more comfortable." She settled herself better. "Why the Ashenlands? What evil schemes are you making?"

"I'll tell all once you reveal how you were the first out of the trials today."

"Yesterday. The midnight hour has past."

"No wonder I feel exhausted."

"I have my skills, Razohan. If you get in my way, end what is mine to protect or annoy me, you will find out what they are."

"Another promise I'm sure you'll keep. Though I still have my heart."

I felt the movement of the bed and peeked out from under my arm to watch her stroll around my tent. She took the candle with her, leaving me in the shadows, but casting a warm glow upon her face. Her plain features had never looked so beautiful, her unadorned attire now irresistibly alluring. Though grace had never been her ally, tonight, each of her movements flowed like an elegant dance, and I was unequivocally entranced.

From her expression, I could tell she was deep in thought, seeming far away from our conversation. That I didn't like. I had never been a jealous bastard, but at this moment, believing she wasn't thinking of us, made me nearly grow claws and shred my blanket to pieces.

"You lost your sword and daggers, I noticed, but you seem to have another. Do you need any more weapons? I've got plenty to share." Crazy of me, but I wanted her to own something of mine, even if it was a weapon she could use against me.

"The king is generous with his gifts."

I bet the wanker is . "Can't have his blade without one, now can he?"

Was that a small smile I spied struggling to break free of her expressionless face? Good. I had her back where I wanted her. Focused on us.

"What was your object?"

"Some trinket of Bloodwyn's. I barely noticed it."

I didn't need to find any such objects to escape the Ashenlands. I simply transformed into a bird and soared out. Instead of hunting down pathetic novelties, I'd hunted down Andriet. At least I tried to, but the Salmun's magic was more powerful than any of us in the north had thought. Somehow, the moment the competitors crossed into the Ashenlands, not only did we plunge into a thick gloomy forest, but all signs of life disappeared, except the wizards' vile beasts.

"How about yours?"

"A dagger."

"That's fitting."

"Did you come across any of their creatures while you were there?" She tried to keep her voice disinterested, but I knew that game only too well.

I rose to sit on the edge of my bed and watched her as she stopped at my trunk and had the audacity to pick through my things. She was welcome to do so, for I had nothing in there to hide. It was all Bloodwyn's possessions.

"You mean the creepy glowing eyed creatures?"

She froze, bent over my trunk, and glanced back at me. "You saw them too?"

"I'm impressed. How did you get away?"

She straightened. "How did you?"

"Agility and skill with a blade."

"Same."

Liar. Already I was adept at reading her body language and facial expressions, a result of studying her so closely. "It's the dull eyed ones you really have to watch."

She turned to face me. "Oh?"

I enjoyed having more knowledge than her. It gave me leverage.

"You know, the source." I shrugged like it was no big deal.

Dark shadows fell under her eyes and nose because of the candlelight, obscuring her gaze, but I bet she fixed it on me.

"Don't play with me, Razohan." Oh, I want to play with you little princess. I want that very much.

I huffed a laugh as I stood, then stretched slowly, testing the extent of my aches. Finding them bearable, I crossed to the trunk. "There's the source, and there's its manifestations. If you want to rid yourself of the manifestations, you have to kill the source." She was going to describe me as an arrogant ass again for the way I sounded. The thought made me smile.

"So the manifestations are the ones with the glowing eyes. That's the creature I fought. But you say the source has dull eyes. I never came upon one of those."

"You fought only one?"

She frowned. Yep, the word arrogant would definitely come up soon.

"The manifestations can't die. Kill the source if you hope to get rid of them. Lucky for us, the manifestations rarely venture far from the source. Perhaps they can't. Eventually, the source will turn up. If you can hang out that long."

"They're afraid of light. The manifestations are, at least."

I quirked a brow, then smiled at her sharing secrets again, even if I already knew that secret. "See, that wasn't hard."

The candlelight accentuated the deep grooves in her brow, then her lips twitched against a smile and my heart fluttered a beat. My hand twitched to reach out for hers, but perhaps that was moving too fast. But dammit, I was ready for everything and anything with her. "There's much we can do to help each other."

I wanted her to survive the trials, something I would never admit to my most trusted. I'd never wanted anything as much as that truth. No. That wasn't true. I wanted her. I wanted her smile and her fight. I wanted to hear my real name on her lips as much as I wanted to feel yet another of her daggers at my throat. I would take her wit and sarcasm any day just to hear her voice and dare sleep with one eye open just to lay by her side every night. Above all, I yearned to hear her beg me to ceaselessly please her body and soul.

"There's much we can do to hurt each other as well," she added.

I bowed my head, unable to face that truth. It was like a punch to my gut.

"We're on opposing sides, Bloodwyn."

The name Bloodwyn was a discordant note on her lips. I opened my mouth to give her my real name, then slammed it shut. The two of us alone in this tent, the candlelight drawing the night close around us... Osmud's constant warnings rang like an alarm in my head, but I ignored them. I wanted her to say my real name, not tirelessly repeating the name of a noble unworthy of her attention; I should know, I lived in the guy, and he'd achieved nothing of honor in his life.

"We don't have to be?—"

"So, you're choosing to give up your goal and return to the north?"

"I didn't say that."

What was I saying? I didn't know myself.

"Then we're enemies, and there's no way around it."

"Perhaps we can find a way we both achieve our goals while accommodating the other."

"Mine is to save the Tannard line, and yours is to destroy it. In what way are you proposing we accommodate each other?"

What way, indeed? I had no solution, yet, but I was desperately trying to work one out. All I knew was I couldn't let her go. At some point I'd taken her small hands and wrapped them around my heart, folding them in close and hoping she'd never let go. I was in deep, deep shit.

I stepped away from the intensity rising within me. It felt like grabbing hands, clawing to seize her, steal her away and hide her somewhere only I knew.

What did I want to do more right now? Shake her for being so obstinate or kiss her for being so…fearless, bold, confident, resilient, resourceful, perseverant. The list was long and contained everything I adored and desired in another, in a life mate.

I paced, rubbing my hand across my forehead, trying to straighten my thoughts.

"Do you even understand who you're protecting?"

"It's the Mother's will." She responded fast, then blinked as if surprised she spoke the words.

"And you always do as the Mother asks? Without question? Without knowing why she asks it of you? Not caring about the risks to yourself?"

She inhaled, then turned back to the trunk and set the candle beside it. Then, surprisingly, grabbed a shirt and folded it, none too kindly.

"Do I get an answer?"

She threw the shirt back into the trunk and spun on me, hands jabbed to her hips. "Why is my goal any less important than yours, Razohan? Answer me that?"

"Because I know exactly what's at risk, whose fates are being decided, and whose will be destroyed by keeping the House of Tannard alive."

"I've met my share of seers in my day to learn most of them are fakes. What I have learned is fates are many, each as true as the other, depending on who is the one believing."

I'd closed the distance toward her without realizing. We stood close enough everything around us disappeared and the strains of lively music and merriment grew faint. The frustration that had drawn me close to her eased now I was here, to be replaced by a sudden shaming feeling of defeat. I had little I could say to refute her claim, because no matter the fervor of the Nazeen, no matter that the augur's departing words drove my new found conviction, no matter our lore, spanning a thousand years and passed down through the generations, or King Ricaud's possession, I could only follow what I believed.

I bowed my head so she couldn't read my conflict. The north learned to despise the south, loathe and fear the House of Tannard and their evil wizards, but I could well ask what did the south learn of us? I'd spent my youth shunning everything Romelda told me, a rejection born from my fear. As my father's murderer, perhaps I wasn't worthy. Maybe I would be the next tyrant.

"No answer, Razohan?"

"I must do what I have to," I replied.

"As I."

My heart was neither honest nor innocent. My past actions were a testament to what I could and would do. Perhaps Andriet was more worthy of the Etherweave than I.

"We've sorted that out," she replied with a clipped voice.

"I wish it wasn't so."

"I guess I'll leave." She pressed her lips together.

I could only stare at her.

"Fine." She fiddled with her belt in an awkward gesture.

"I'll think of something that will solve our problem."

Her eyes widened. "You would?" Then she blinked, ducking her head. "Fine." She repeated herself, this time rubbing her palms down her sides, while her eyes darted from me to our surroundings, then back to me again, undecided where to look. And that gave me hope. Dare I believe she wanted me to find a way to free ourselves of this divide. She'd kept me a her secret for all this time and that gave me the greatest hope we'd find a way through this so we could be together. We had to. From the very beginning, I'd gambled everything on there being an us.

"I'll…" She picked at her fingers. "I'll…"

"Stay alive in the meantime."

"I intend to. Thank you for telling me about the…source."

"And thank you for telling me about their fear of light."

"We're even then."

"Perhaps."

"Then…I shall go."

I nodded.

She pressed her lips into her mouth, then after one inhale, she moved around me for the exit. Once there, she stopped and turned to me. "Good luck tomorrow, Razohan."

"One day you'll say my real name. I promise you."

I wanted to gather her close for the way she stared at me.

"Goodnight, Tressya… Oh, by the way."

She stopped halfway out of the tent flap.

"Those berries won't work on me."

Her eyes widened, so I winked at her. "The ones you slipped inside your pocket while you were rifling through my trunk. Just make sure to keep them away from anything you eat or drink. They're quite lethal."