Laidan stayed within the cave, sitting by Garan and trying to cover up the noise of her stomach grumbling by humming to herself. As she looked at the entrance the light in her mind haloed everything. Yet when she kept her gaze to the shadows, she could tell the light had dimmed since those first painful moments when Thurdon had thrust his gift into her. Her emotions were ragged and she felt physically numb.
Taking refuge at the observatory was the only choice open to her now. All her choices, whether they had existed previously or not, had disappeared the moment Thurdon had passed on his power. Why had he done this to her without explaining some small part of it? A sigh escaped from her and her gaze slid to Garan, who sat staring at nothing.
“Is it safe to leave now?” she asked.
“Not yet. We have to wait until the rain dries up. Don’t want to be exposed to the fumes. Then we will go.”
She looked down at her bare legs and sighed. “I must find something to wear. I can’t be seen like this.”
Garan turned his attention to her. “How do you feel?”
She smiled at him, glad for his concern. “Better. Everything is quiet now; well, Thurdon isn’t shouting anymore. But I can’t think properly and I can’t remember things. It’s like there is a large lump of rock inside my head.”
Garan nodded, as if he understood.
“Clothes?” she prompted.
Garan rubbed a hand through his curls and tugged on his earlobe. “I have an idea. What about this?” He took off his Skywatcher cloak.
She stared at him. “I’m not cold, Skywatcher, I’m half-naked. What will that do?”
“You really try my patience. I have needle and thread. I can fashion it into a kind of covering.”
Suddenly she was touched, because she knew how much the cloak meant to him. He had studied for years to finally be awarded the status of Skywatcher. “I see. It might work. Not bad for a Sky Eyes.”
She let him drape his cloak over her. Now that it was dry, it smelled of dust and of him. He sewed a side seam and stitched across one shoulder. Laidan was quite astounded at how deft he was. He even managed to get the moon and stars pattern to line up along the hem and the waist to cinch in just so. With his shirt underneath she felt almost decent. In fact she was better attired than she had ever been with Thurdon, except for the bare legs.
“Well? How do I look?”
Garan’s eyes glittered as he looked her up and down. When his gaze met hers he looked away. “You look … decent enough.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed, and then crouched down on a rock. Unbidden tears began to sting her eyes. She sniffed then, feeling suddenly quite overwhelmed by the loss of her mentor and the situation she was in. Garan moved nearer the cave entrance and peered out, oblivious to her suffering.
From where she sat the air was full of the vinegar smell. She waved her hand in front of her nose. “What a stink!”
“’Tis the fumes from the rain. Best we draw back into the rear of the cave again. Perhaps the wind will dispel it soon.”
As she stood, she commented to Garan, “We always traveled to the observatory before the season of storms began. We would have been there already if I hadn’t insisted that Thurdon eat breakfast—the poisoned breakfast.”
Garan harrumphed. “Don’t blame yourself. ’Tis not your fault.” He went to the darkest part of the cave. “We should rest again before we leave. It will be a long, hungry walk back to the observatory. The fumes from the storm are getting quite strong.”
Laidan watched him as he stepped carefully over the rocks and stumbled on a stone. Choking back a cough from the smell, she followed him.
With her back to the decorated wall, Laidan leaned her head to one side. She was conscious of Garan’s bulk, but he seemed to be studiously ignoring her and keeping his body from coming into contact with hers. She remembered waking to the warm touch of his hand on her thigh, and how she had overreacted to it. They always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Sometimes she couldn’t help it. “I’m not very comfortable here. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
Garan’s head jerked in her direction, his eyes wide. “Next to me? Er … not at all—that is, if you feel you are safe enough.”
As she snuggled down next to him, she smiled and said with exaggerated force, “Garan, you do try my patience.”
*
Judging by the gnawing hunger in her stomach, Laidan guessed it was well past noon when they left the cave. As they walked along in the direction that, Garan assured her, led back toward Vanden, so that they could circle around it and head to the observatory, she saw that the pools of acid rain had dried and the sky was a clear violet color. A faint vinegar taint lingered in the air. Sheltering his gaze from the early afternoon sun with his hand, Garan searched the distant skyline, eyes tracking along the mountain range. She guessed he was trying to sight Trithorn Peak. Laidan studied the horizon herself. There were lots of mountains from this angle and not one seemed familiar to her. With a sinking feeling, she suspected they were lost.
She touched Garan lightly on the arm. “Can you see it, Garan?”
He was quiet for a moment, biting his lower lip, then he bent his head toward her.
“Not exactly. The river has brought us quite a way downstream and I think we crossed over to the other side. Perhaps if we continue to backtrack toward Vanden, keeping the river on our right, I’ll see it.”
Just then Laidan’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you hear that?”
Garan’s head jerked up, his gaze wary. “Quiet,” he said softly.
Laidan had heard a noise like rocks tumbling together. The leaves of the trees trembled in the breeze. The crunch crunch of pebbles shifting sounded behind them. She swung round again, sensing movement. They weren’t alone. Garan grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He tensed, readying himself to run. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the ground move.
“Garan,” she said, unable to hide the fear in her voice. Turning full circle, they saw men emerge from the ground, their camouflage cloaks snapping in the breeze.
Thurdon was mercifully quiet in her mind. She lowered her eyes to hide their glow. Garan’s hand sweated, and he squeezed hers so hard she felt the bones crunch together. They were surrounded.
Keeping her eyes on the approaching men, she saw that the majority were dressed in guard uniforms from Vanden and others in manual laborers’ trews and aprons. She whispered to Garan, “Are they rebels or Lenk’s men?”
The circle tightened around them. Garan pulled her close to him, but he neither ran nor readied himself for a fight. The air was so close and the faint residue of the rain soured every breath. She wiped sweat from her brow, glancing up at Garan. Fear was writ all over his face, and his violet eyes were dark pools as he chewed his lower lip. Quietly he said into her ear, “Doesn’t matter which … both are to be avoided.”
A large man with a scarred face separated from the rest and moved forward, followed by another man, thinner and slightly shorter. “Escapees from Vanden, I see? Just what I’ve been looking for—saw you leave town and thought you’d make nice booty.”
Garan made himself appear taller. “We are Skywatchers from Trithorn Peak. We have nothing to do with Vanden.”
The man with the scarred face was staring at Laidan. When Garan spoke, he shifted his gaze to him and stepped closer, rolling his shoulder as if he had an injury that pained him. “We found the place where you dumped your sodden food on the riverbank. Easy enough to track you from there.” He leered at Garan. “Pretty boy … mmm … you’d make a good trade for goods, I expect.” The shorter man, who had some kind of malady that speckled his dark skin with white patches, moved toward her. His eyes were almost black. “An even rarer beauty,” he said, giving her a mocking bow. Laidan wanted to retort, though the pressure of Garan’s hand stayed her. The first man spun around, his stinking cloak hitting her face. “Bring them, Bevan,” he said to his offsider.
“Yes, Nulf,” Bevan replied, signaling for three others to approach.
Laidan’s anger at Garan rose when he let the rebels tie them up without a word or a hint of a fight. Then he stumbled like a fool when one of the men shoved him. “Why didn’t we resist?” she asked, hissing the words at him. Their hands were bound in front of them and the three men guarded them as they fell into step behind the rest of the rebels.
He looked at her with those violet-colored eyes of his glittering with futile anger, but he said not a word.
“Shut up!” one of the men said before he shoved her from behind, making her stumble. Garan caught her before she fell and she shrugged him off. Thurdon’s presence was gone for the moment, a strange and inexplicable lull.
Laidan was used to walking. She’d been trekking across the land most of her life. They trudged over the plain until the ground began to undulate with soft brown hills. Garan maintained the pace, but when she glanced at him she noticed signs of weariness around his eyes and mouth. When they reached the top of the first hill, Laidan caught a glimpse of the river. It appeared the rebels were taking them upstream, though further inland from Vanden. She allowed that thought to give her some hope.
The motley group of men halted the march and broke out rations. Bevan handed them both a small piece of old, hard bread. While sitting down to eat it, Garan leaned toward her on the pretext of offering her his own serving of bread. “They are taking us close to where we need to go. Stay close to me so that we can escape.”
She refused his bread. There was no wine. Garan’s had been confiscated along with the contents of his pack. “We should have been more careful, then we wouldn’t need to be escaping.”
His lips quirked into a shy smile. “’Tis too true.”
A guard paced around them, his clothes ragged-edged and dirty. Garan bit into his bread and chewed, observing the man watching them. Laidan thought he was wary, but not necessarily worried. Nulf, who seemed to be the leader, headed in their direction. Garan frowned and shared a quick, warning look with her. A shiver ran up her spine and her breath caught in her throat. She really didn’t like that disgusting man.
Nulf’s dark eyes passed over her. Although he focused his attention on Garan, she sensed he was concentrating on her. Garan stumbled to his feet so that he stood a head taller than the leader. “You! Tell me what this Trithorn Peak will pay to have you back. Speak quickly.”
Garan lowered his gaze. “The observatory will pay handsomely for our return. Our trade is in gems.”
“Gems … Vanden’s cache? Enough to buy weapons?”
Garan shrugged lightly. “Plenty of weapons.”
“I will send a messenger to deliver the ransom demand for you.” Nulf’s eyes met Laidan’s. “You will stay with me.”
“No!” Garan went to lunge but was struck across the knees from behind. Through teeth clenched in pain, he said, “I’ll not leave without her.”
Nulf punched Garan in the jaw and bellowed, “Fool. If you want to live at all you will leave her with me and say nothing more. She’s just a woman with a pretty face, snowy white legs and a moist cleft in between. I hear Lenk wanted her, and it would give me no greater satisfaction than to take something he wants. If you are smart you’ll forget all about her.” He turned to the guard. “Bring her to my tent when we camp tonight and double the guard on him.”
Laidan felt as if the ground had swallowed her up. How dare that smelly, ugly, fat old pig say those callous, disgusting things about her? She ground her teeth together and chanced a look at Garan. He looked so stricken he could barely glance at her. The guard watched them and grinned, showing missing teeth. She thought she might throw up.
Later, as they trudged through the late afternoon sun, Laidan was feeling done in. She was thirsty. Thoughts of what lay ahead made each step harder to take. Standing to the side was Nulf, watching his men bring up their captives. He noticed her weary state and stopped the march. “Bring her some watered wine. I want her fit, not half-dead from thirst, you fools.” A flask was procured. Nulf snatched the container and thrust the wine toward her. Laidan had no qualms, and quickly put the wine to her lips and drank deeply. Nulf watched her as she swallowed. Garan must be as thirsty as she was—dare she?
After her thirst lessened and she was more refreshed, she asked, “May I offer some wine to my fellow Skywatcher?”
Nulf’s gaze shifted to Garan, who stood very still. “You may … if you kiss me first.” He smiled then in a sickening sort of way that made her stomach twist. Backing up a step, she knew her face was bright red. She cast an uncertain glance at Garan, who shook his head ever so slightly, his expression pinched. Nulf snatched the flask and slipped it into his shirt, leering at her. At least his teeth were whole, she thought, though his cheeks were furred with stubble and sweat ran down his neck in muddy runnels.
“Laidan,” Garan hissed, and struggled with the two guards holding him back.
Ignoring him, she nodded to Nulf. Last year Garan had tried to kiss her, and she had slapped his face. But the experience hadn’t been that bad, because she had actually liked Garan then and had wanted to be kissed. But he’d taken her to those dreadful caves and scared her senseless. Before she could draw breath, Nulf grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck and jerked her to him. She was too scared to fight as his lips mangled hers. She tried not to breathe because he smelled worse than acid rain fumes. After mashing his putrid mouth on hers, he stared into her face and grinned at her. “You’d be the one, all right. Lenk’s power maiden. Eyes that glow, they said. But you have no power to stop me, do you?” He shoved her away from him. She was busy wiping her mouth with the back of her bound hands while he chuckled to himself. A quick glance around revealed that all his men had watched him molest her, their gazes bright, wet.
“Take it,” Nulf said, puffing out his chest. Her hands shook as she reached into his shirt to take the flask. With weak knees, she held the wine out to Garan.
His expression was unreadable as he shrugged off the guards. Then with an angry glitter in his eyes he took the wine and drank quickly, gulping large mouthfuls before Nulf snatched it away. With another leer at her, Nulf trudged back to the head of the group, accepting with a smile their jests and lurid suggestions about her.
Garan recommenced walking without a glance or a word to her.
“The least you can do is thank me.”
He answered in clipped tones. “I’ll not be thanking you for risking your life and safety. I’ve been listening and watching. These men are bandits with no political cause or morals. Understand?”
“Can’t we negotiate with them?”
“Negotiate? What do you expect he’ll do when he takes you to his tent? Discuss moonfall?”
Laidan felt her face redden further. “I … I … Wing dust! You’ll have to get us out of here before then.”
The look Garan gave her made her heart sink. “I’m working on it. Although if you would guard your favors instead of flaunting them, I’d be content.”
“Content? What business is it of yours what I do?” Instantly she regretted saying it. The hurt in his eyes spoke volumes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Ahead was a copse of trees. Her bladder was excruciatingly full and she couldn’t hold off any longer. Negotiating some privacy with the guard was difficult. However, once the guard agreed, he sent word up the line for the rest of them to wait. With a rope around her waist she went into the trees. Next it was Garan’s turn, and she could hear the guards teasing him about the size of his equipment. When Garan returned to her side, he avoided looking at her.
After another hour or so of walking, the bandits headed into a narrow ravine, the entrance of which was concealed by trees and rocky outcrops. The water course that had carved through the soft sandstone had long ago dried up. It was the bandits’ main camp, she realized when they walked further in. The lead men dropped their supplies and added them to a big pile of rolled tents, food sacks and casks of wine.
An exceptionally red dusk was cut off by the shadow cast by the ravine walls. Laidan looked around her, swallowing fear when she saw even more bandits lurking in the dark crannies, their gazes tracking her passage through the defile, making her feel as if she was naked.
A lone structure stood out in the darkness and, as she drew closer, she saw it was a cell made from wood roped together to form rough bars. The ceiling was low and the three male prisoners within crouched to accommodate their bulk. A smell of excrement and refuse wafted over her, growing steadily stronger as they approached. Her steps slowed, but a shove from behind hastened her along. Hysteria neared the surface as she prepared to beg not to be thrown into the cage.
Garan struggled against their captors as they tore at his clothes and hair to shove him in. One of the men held a knife to her throat. “Stop, or she dies.”
Garan went quietly when he saw her predicament. The guards kneed him in the back, sending him sprawling onto the other captives. Laidan didn’t resist either when they shoved her head down to push her through the cage opening.
Garan righted himself, awkwardly treading on the other prisoners, who shot threats at him. “Sorry,” he said as he sought a corner for them. The other three prisoners left little room for them even to crouch in. Garan pulled Laidan close into the space he occupied, sheltering her with his body. He smelled of sweat and dust, but his warmth was welcome. He touched her hair lightly. It comforted her and then brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, Garan. How are we going to escape now?”
*
Laidan woke to rough hands and strong fingers biting into her flesh. All hell was breaking loose in the cage as Nulf punched Garan in the face, sending him reeling back. While he lay stunned, she was dragged from the cage. “Garan!”
“Come on,” Nulf said, pressing his fetid face close to hers. “You best behave or he’ll suffer for it.”
From somewhere deep within her, resistance boiled to the surface. “You forget your ransom,” she replied, tilting her chin up. “The observatory won’t pay if you hurt him.”
He laughed and grabbed her by the elbow to drag her along. “I never stated what condition I’d return him in. What does it matter to you? You won’t be going with him. You have plenty of work here.” He leered into her face and squeezed her breast. She batted his hand away with her bound hands, only to have him laugh at her. “What else is a body and face like yours for? When I’ve had my fill of you, I’ll have to share you with my men. But don’t worry your pretty head, because by then you’ll be well trained and it won’t hurt a bit.”
Laidan struggled against his hold as he dragged her across the camp toward a rude and grimy-looking tent. His men stood up as they passed, jeering and laughing. His threats horrified her and all her hope for rescue centered on Garan, who was locked in a cell.
“Save a bit of her for us, Nulf. We don’t need much,” cried a voice to her left.
“Yes, just a nibble,” said another from behind.
“Best paint her red, then we’ll be able to aim our darts,” shouted a man who leaped in front of them, only to be shoved aside by Nulf.
“Nah, she has no hole.” More laughter.
“Well, you have no rod!” A growl followed that comment.
Laidan cringed. So that was what Thurdon had meant all those times she’d thought him prudish and overprotective. He had wanted to shield her from attention like this. Vomit rose in her throat. Her legs failed her, but Nulf lifted her under the arm and half-dragged her along with him.
The sounds of a fight breaking out reached them. Nulf swore under his breath as he shoved her into the tent to fall onto his cot. When she bounded up from the unmade bed, he backhanded her. While she lay there, stunned, he removed her bonds and used them to tie her roughly to his bed.
“Wait here. I have to deal with that mob first.” He mauled her mouth, grazing her lips with his teeth, before leaving her. Tears came—tears of terror mingled with relief that she had been given some kind of reprieve.
Outside, the sounds of uproar increased. Nulf yelled over the top of the uproar, making himself heard. “You’ll get your turn.”
His promises did not do the trick. The fight appeared to be out of hand, for the yells, grunts and the impact of fists were audible for some time. When Nulf returned he had blood on his shirt and a bruise under his left eye. Laidan stared up at the ceiling of the tent, feeling the pain in her bound limbs. Her bare legs were spread apart, anchored to the cot. Nulf stared at her with a wet look of anticipation in his eyes. Laidan’s mouth went dry. She didn’t think she could cope with what was coming next. Nulf took two steps and rummaged through a pile of clothes on a chair. A cup clattered to the ground and he picked it up and splashed in some wine. “Drink this.”
The cup was filthy. She shook her head even though her throat was parched.
“None of that. You’ll feel better after you drink this. Come on.” Kneeling down he put one hand behind her head and then tipped the cup with the other so that she could sip. Dark liquid swirled within. The aroma was delicious—dragon wine. She opened her mouth. It was pure dragon wine—the best and probably the most potent she had ever tasted. On an empty stomach, she felt a burning sensation in her chest and then the effect coursed through her body. Within minutes, she felt woozy and warm, felt the burning smoothness on her tongue and throat as Nulf tipped some more into her mouth. It was too heady. She closed her lips and tried to turn her face away.
“Come on, drink all of it. You’ll be all soft and compliant then. Won’t be so a’feared of me either.” He squeezed her jaws open and poured more in. She could barely swallow it, was drowning in it. She so wanted him to stop because the wine was burning through her veins, filling her up with its potency. She started to spit it out. Nulf pulled the cup away.
“Don’t waste it, you stupid cow.” Nulf drank the rest of it and then bent to lick the wine off her chin and neck.
Her head spun. Nulf’s wet voice was in her ear. “Nice to see you so relaxed now. This won’t hurt a bit.”
He groped beneath the dress Garan had fashioned, clawing his way up between her spread legs. His rough fingers probed her soft, moist flesh.
“No. Stop!” Her voice was raw with panic despite the wine. She didn’t want this animal on her. Not then. Not ever.
“Shut up, slut.” He stood up and started to loosen his trousers, undoing the dirty brown ties. She fought the haze in her mind, but the dragon wine was strong and she’d drunk so much that she now struggled to maintain focus. Nulf was taking his shirt off, revealing a scarred, furry chest and a bulging stomach. Casting the shirt aside, his trousers round his ankles, he knelt at the end of the bed and tried to take off her clothes. He cursed and tugged but they didn’t shift for Garan had sewed them onto her. Nulf hiked up the refashioned cloak, pushing it over her thighs, sliding it slowly over her hips. She shivered as his breath panted damply over her flesh. Again he began to probe her, more violently and urgently this time. Laidan screamed and struggled against her bonds.
Nulf laughed at her terror. “Not well oiled, are you?” He grinned at her.
He was hurting her now. Tears slid down her face onto the dirty pillow. Oh Thurdon … help me! Not like this … not like this.
Voices called from outside the tent. Without warning the tent flap opened. “Nulf. Come quick. There’s trouble.”
“Blast you! Can’t you see I’m busy?” He withdrew his bloodied fingers and growled to himself. “Coming!” He pulled his clothes back on and sparing Laidan a look of regret. Before he left, he leaned forward and kissed between her legs, making a fat, wet sucking sound, and then yanked down her cloak-dress perfunctorily. At the tent flap, Nulf displayed his rod proudly, stroking it like a pet. “Don’t go anywhere. This is for you.” With that parting comment, he tucked it away and strode out of the tent.
Laidan had to get out. Had to. She struggled against her bonds until she collapsed back against the rank-smelling bed. The tent flap moved. She sucked in a breath, fearing Nulf’s return or one of his men, sneaking in to avail himself of her person while his leader was busy elsewhere. She caught movement on the edge of her vision, heard the footstep. She sucked in a breath, preparing to scream, and began to struggle against her bonds in earnest.
“Quiet!” Garan said, putting his hand over her mouth. “’Tis me.” He drew his hand away and reached for the ropes tying her to the bed.
The wine still had a strong hold of her, but the relief she felt washed over her like a wave. “How?” she said, and it felt like she was speaking underwater.
His face hovered above hers. “I don’t have time to explain the details. We have to get out of here now. These bandits are being attacked by a large band of rebels.”
Panic speared through her drunken mind, slurring her words. “What? Are you sure these ones are rebels?” When she was free of the bonds, she rubbed her wrists and lurched to her feet. The world tilted crazily. Garan steadied her and frowned. The place where Nulf had hurt her smarted, but it wasn’t serious. Running was possible, lots of running was necessary. Garan seemed preoccupied as he looked around the tent. His violet eyes were darkened pools. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“That depends on your definition of hurt.” She struggled to say the words coherently. His face fell and he bit his lip. “Let’s say that he was about to hurt me a lot more, and you arrived before he could come back and finish the job.”
Garan nodded, though his mouth was tight with worry. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and beckoned for her to follow him. He poked his head through the tent flap and drew back quickly. “Can’t go that way. They are mobilizing. We’ll have to try the back …” While Garan searched for a blade to rip the fabric at the rear of the tent, sweat started to pebble in the small of Laidan’s back as the wine continued its trek through her blood. She licked her dry lips and cast nervous glances at the tent flap. “Ah … Garan … can you hurry?”
A few toneless grunts were followed by sounds of success, as Garan finally found a broken section of blade. It was a bit rusty, but it was sharp enough to pierce the tent fabric and allow him to cut through. Laidan’s heart rate quickened. The sounds outside were like those of the attack on Lenk’s manor house. There were explosions and the smell of burning in the air. Yells and orders were barely discernible among the grunts and the sound of many feet running through the ravine.
“Laidan, come on. You first.” She bent down and put one foot through the cut. Before she had her other foot in place Garan gave her a shove. She was just righting herself when he surged out after her. “Quick, into the bushes.”
The leaves stuck in her hair and twigs tangled in her clothes as they fled into the trees. At times it was only by crawling along the ground that could she make any progress. Her intoxication slowed her progress even further.
They hadn’t been in the woods for very long when they realized that the trees were alive with rebels. She could hear their raspy breathing and accented curses as they hacked through the bushes around them. She dropped to hands and knees and kept low to the ground as she inched forward.
Another five crawl steps and she stopped again. Here she could smell a bandit—the stale urine whiff reminded her of Nulf’s tent. The path ahead was occupied by two pairs of feet. One of the men had a lamp. She paused and listened, not daring to move in case they spied her crouching in the bush. Running feet neared. The two bandits on the path quietened for a moment and then fled. The owners of several pairs of feet jostled the branches as they sped by in pursuit of them. As the footsteps grew distant, Garan prodded her again. “Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered. “I’ll lead you.”
Garan edged in front of her and led them to the ravine wall. The tip of Belle moon appeared above the lip of the ravine and sent a wash of light to illuminate the rock face, revealing tall, thin crevices. She watched while Garan examined one before he moved on to another. Branches rustled nearby and the sound of feet crunching on dropped twigs grew more distinct. Laidan tapped on Garan’s back urgently, keeping her eyes screwed shut.
He side-stepped to another crevice. It was tall and dark and wide enough for them to squeeze into. With the cover of darkness, it would be enough to keep them from being visible.
Garan squeezed himself against the wall and wedged Laidan in with him. It was a tight fit. They both listened for a while and, when they heard nothing further nearby, began to relax. The wine still affected her. Garan didn’t seem to mind when she rested her head against his chest. He didn’t have much choice really, considering how jammed in they were. In a distant part of her awareness, she felt him caress her waist.
Her mind floated a little and filled with idle thoughts. Looking up at him, seeing his face in the muted moonlight, she whispered, “Why did you kiss me in the cave last year?”
He pressed his mouth lightly to the top of her head, then whispered in her ear, “Because I wanted to at the time.”
“And now?” She lifted her face invitingly.
He was looking down at her, his eyes dark. “I … I …” There was a question behind his eyes and in his puzzled frown.
Reaching up, she drew his head down and brushed her lips against his. He drew back and watched her face as if waiting for her to recoil, to slap him. She smiled again and touched his face, the tips of her fingers sliding along his nose. Again she rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. She welcomed the feel of him around her. His timely rescue had saved her from Nulf’s pawings. She wondered if that’s what a man did, just mangle a girl as if she existed only for his pleasure. She heard Garan sigh softly and tighten his hold on her. No, she thought, Garan was not like that. He’d never treat her that way.
Easing herself up on her tiptoes, she tried to kiss him again. She needed to know how he felt—not just that he felt protective of her because he’d been sent to save her—but to feel his passion, his love, if it existed. Garan’s eyes were a bit wild. She stroked his chin, touching the bristles that hadn’t been so obvious before. On some level she became aware of the sound of fighting in the ravine outside as echoed yells pierced the air.
“Laidan,” he began to chide her, placing his hand over hers to stop her caress. “You taste of dragon wine … You’re not yourself.”
“I feel fine.” She kept her face raised. “Kiss me, Garan,” she whispered, and she stood on the tips of her toes and opened her mouth to his. She reveled in the power she felt, power over him.
When his lips didn’t meet hers straight away, she thought time had stood still. She breathed softly and waited. She felt his tension surround her: in his chest, in his arms, in his thighs. He kissed her, tentatively at first, and then he pulled back. His hands strayed to her face and he nudged her chin up slightly and kissed her again, deeper this time, and all she wanted was more. The next kiss sent a shiver down her spine and she felt something else in it—his trembling and a response from somewhere deep inside her, beyond the fear. Then he eased her head down to rest on his chest, and tenderly stroked her hair. His heart was racing, and she knew it was his reaction to her. A smile curved her lips and she closed her eyes.
He moved slightly, easing a press of rock against his back. The smell from the cage wafted up, stirring her to wakefulness. “Garan, you smell awful!”
“So do you.”
Outside the moonlight had dimmed and the noise of the fighting had died down. Garan made no move to escape. “Better to wait until they are all gone from here,” he whispered to her.
Nodding in agreement, she closed her eyes again, liking the feel of him near. Thurdon stirred slightly in her mind, and his presence nudged her. It was strange, she thought, that he should do that then, when he had been quiet all through Nulf’s assault. Her fear had probably driven him out. Yet there was no outrage from Thurdon while she was with Garan, only the general chaos in her head caused by his presence.
*
The jerking of Garan’s head startled her out of a daze. The sunlight was tinged red, possibly from a fire nearby. Laidan was pressed up against Garan and tried to pull away. The memories of her advances toward him came in a rush. It had to be the wine, she thought. I couldn’t have done those things otherwise. Garan put his arms on her waist and edged her to one side so that he could slither out to take a peek.
Laidan stayed where she was, waiting, listening. It was too quiet now—eerie even. Her eyes were fixed on Garan’s back. He turned once and beckoned to her to follow. She caught his hand and together they eased out of the crevice. No one was around. They walked down the length of the ravine wall and turned. Within five steps, they came full up against a band of men who had emerged from the surrounding bushes. Roughly, Garan pushed her behind him. She clutched the back of his shirt while she looked left and right for an escape route. More men closed in. They looked less slovenly and better fed than the bandits they had escaped from. Rebels, she thought. Garan paled, his gaze shifting from one to another.
The rebels pushed and shoved them down the path to a mob waiting in the clearing. Into the middle of the throng strode a lithe man with dark hair and pale soulless eyes. The men backed away as he stood in front of them, tapping a riding crop against his thigh.
“Well, what have we here? You can be none other than Lenk’s runaway power maiden and her Skywatcher companion. Nulf revealed your presence to me before I cut out his tongue. Let me introduce myself. I am Gercomo and you are now my possessions. Do as I bid and you will be rewarded. If you do not …” He shrugged.
Something about his emotionless voice chilled Laidan. Garan looked even paler than before, his throat working even though he did not speak. She suspected that he was thinking the same thing she was: this Gercomo was a new and even deadlier kind of being than any they had yet encountered. Not having uttered a single word, they were seized roughly and dragged through the smoke-filled woods out of the ravine.