Devarian Uprising Page 5

  All through the long trek she’d been aware of him, like a cloud at the corner of her vision, shadowing her. Stolidly, he’d hiked among the others, uncomplaining, always at a certain distance, defiantly ignoring the glares she occasionally threw over her shoulder. She could feel him, a constant irritant, like sand in a wound, struggling to maintain the grueling pace set by the larger, sturdier Antoreans. Was he so devoted to Rolen, then, that he would kill himself to follow him?

  Fine. Let him. She didn’t care. But some small part of her mind noted that every night when he lay down, it was never near the Antorean leader.

  Soleyla backed away from the ridge top, sliding down on hands and knees until the spire had dropped from view, then stood. There was nothing more to see from here. If Valda had ’ported in more Guardians, then so be it. Whatever enemies they faced on the morrow, this was their one, their only, shot. There would be no second chance.

  Behind her, she heard the small click of stones as Rolen followed her down from their perch. The men were encamped in the next valley over, concealed in the maze of caves and tunnels that pocked the weathered stone, resting and regaining their strength for the coming battle. When she heard Rolen clearing his throat, Soleyla lengthened her strides -- not from any hurry to return to the men, merely from a wish to avoid conversation with Rolen. They both knew what had to be done tomorrow. What else was there for them to discuss?

  “Soleyla.” She heard his heavy footfalls behind her, and quickened her pace. Not fast enough -- his hand closed on her wrist, spinning her around. At her snarl, his eyes widened, but he didn’t release her arm. “Soleyla, please!”

  “What?” She spat the word at him, sneering inwardly as she saw him flinch. His face was pale underneath his tan, drawn and haggard with lack of sleep -- and fear? He dropped his gaze, his throat working convulsively as he swallowed.

  “Soleyla, I…” He raised his eyes again, and the panicked plea in them held her still. “Tomorrow, I… Soleyla, I can’t do it!”

  Her face set like stone. She knew what she was asking of him, and Soleyla had to admit he had every reason to be terrified. But without that distraction… Making her voice as stern as if she were speaking to a raw recruit, she snapped, “Yes, you can. You have to. Look at me!” she barked as his gaze slid away. He jerked upright at her tone.

  Soleyla gave him a small, reassuring smile. Forget that he’s Rolen, a small part of her whispered, the part of her that had been born, bred, and trained to command. Forget Kantou, and everything that lies between you. This is a soldier, on the eve of the most dangerous mission of his life. If he fails…

  “You will not fail,” Soleyla said, her voice steady and sure. She saw her words and the faith they expressed sink home, saw his shoulders relax just a fraction. “These are your people. Your planet. And you will do whatever you must to save them. I’ve watched you, Rolen. You can do it.”

  He swallowed again and nodded, his expression still frightened, but resolute. He drew himself up, towering over her, once again the massive, canny leader who had once backed her against a cliff, fighting her, a Guardian captain, to a standstill. At the memory, an involuntary grin stretched her lips, surprising her. If this man couldn’t do what she’d asked of him and survive, no man could.

  Rolen grinned back, a savage, reckless gleam in his eyes. Yes, strange as it was, this was a man worth fighting beside. Soleyla pitied the woman who tried to make a slave of him.

  Which led her, of course, to Kantou. Soleyla’s grin froze, then slid into a scowl. She started to turn away, but Rolen grabbed her again, his strong hands gripping her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “Soleyla,” he said, his eyes burning down at her with an intensity that had nothing playful in it now. “Soleyla, if I’m going to do this tomorrow, I want you to do something for me.”

  She shifted in his grip, uncomfortable beneath that fierce, earnest gaze. “No promises. What?”

  “Talk to Kantou.”

  At that, she flicked her arm up, breaking his hold on her shoulder, and spun away. When he tried to grab her again, she backhanded him, feeling a grim satisfaction at the thud of bone against bone. He staggered back, then caught his balance, glaring at her from under that thick black hair. He shook his head, studying her. “You stupid, stubborn woman.”

  “How dare you.” Her voice was flat, low, dangerous.

  “I?” Rolen laughed, one short, hard bark which had nothing to do with merriment. “I’m going to die down there tomorrow. I’ll dare whatever I damn well like.”

  “Good.” Striding past him, Soleyla headed for the encampment.

  “Damn you, woman!” Rolen lunged after her, spinning her around. Struggling, she tripped him, and together they went down, rolling on the ground until Rolen pinned her, grinding her wrists against the stony earth. Panting, he glared down at her. She glared back, furious.

  “What will you do now, Rolen? Try to rape me again?”

  Turning his head, he spat in disgust. “I wouldn’t lower myself.” He sat up, releasing her, and Soleyla lay, surprised, rubbing one bruised wrist.

  “You really are an idiot, you know,” he continued. “He worships the ground you walk on, and you won’t even see it.” Shoving himself to his feet, Rolen stood for a moment, looking out over the rugged peaks of his world. “Love is a strange, strange thing.” Soleyla wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or to the mountains around them. “You’ll gladly kill yourself for something that doesn’t even know you exist.”

  He glanced down at her again, extended a hand almost absently, and pulled her to her feet. “Talk to him, Soleyla,” he repeated. “He loves you.”

  Shoulders square, his fears once again under control, he strode away. But it was a long, long time before Soleyla followed.

  Chapter Five

  The drizzle, which had thickened and thinned over the past six days without ever fully stopping, settled with the dusk to a light, steady rain. Under its soft, continuous patter, the men of Rolen’s tribe, the sturdy descendants of League renegades, sat, huddled or stood near the mouths of the interlocking caves, looking out over the shadowed, muddy, rain obscured valley. Every man there, Soleyla knew, felt the weight of his own death, as steadily and inexorably as the damp that seeped into their bones. She felt it herself. But there was no sense of wavering, no hesitation to be perceived among the grim faces enduring the onslaught of night.

  For many of them, it was their last night. Win or lose, the death toll would be horrific. If they lost, it would be annihilation -- not only of them, but of their lovers, children and families they’d left behind. For those stakes, Soleyla knew, not a man among them would turn back. She was, she admitted, proud of them.

  She was seated alone, in a small chamber opening off the main cavern where most of the men had gathered. No fires flickered, not even deep in the tunnels behind her. A cleft in the rocks gave her a narrow view of the valley, and as night deepened her eyes ceaselessly scanned it, senselessly searching for some point her gaze could fix on, some landmark to cling to in the damp, trackless night. Somewhere behind the clouds a full moon shone, so that not even the dark was absolute. Everything wavered. Stones blurred into sky, sky melted into mountain, everything was mutable, featureless, incomprehensible.

  He worships the ground you walk on.

  Kantou’s beautiful face, clenched with a need she’d never seen there before, so rapt in Rolen’s body he hadn’t even heard her enter…

  You stupid, stubborn woman.

  His voice, screaming as he leapt in front of Rolen, arms outspread, ready to die to protect the man he’d just been…

  Just been…

  Say it, Soleyla!

  Just been fucking. Her mouth twisted into a snarl. Was she supposed to forget that? Just put it aside as if it meant nothing? Easy for Rolen to say -- Rolen who’d held Kantou in his arms, drawing Kantou down to him, kissing him, feeling his cock inside him…

  Talk to him, Soleyla.

  Talk to him? She could bar
ely stand to look at him. If she could, she would scrape the memory of his face from her mind, the way he’d looked, lying beside her, relaxed in sleep, unguarded, vulnerable…

  Her eyes scanned the night, ceaseless, restless. She hardly noticed the tears coursing down her cheeks.

  What was she supposed to do? Go and find him? Prostrate herself before him and beg his forgiveness? For what? For throwing away her commission, her future, for turning traitor against her own people in the quest to set him free? And what did he do with that freedom?

  He fucked Rolen.

  He loves you.

  But he fucked Rolen.

  Worships the ground you…

  He fucked Rolen, damn it!

  Soleyla slammed her head back against the rock, sending lights bursting before her eyes. Pain seared through her, and she clung to it, grateful for any fixed point in the internal whirlwind that buffeted her mind. Gasping, she swiped impatiently at the damp on her cheeks, only dimly aware she’d been crying. Was still crying. Shudders shook her, and she raised a hand to her mouth, struggling to contain her sobs.

  Then a voice spoke behind her, and her grief congealed into an icy, solid hate.

  “My lady.”

  Had he come to gloat? To see the mighty Soleyla Devarian, reduced to tears like a man? She would not give him the satisfaction. Raising her chin, she stared out into the darkness -- though what there was for her to see out there was a question she could not ever have answered. Her voice, she was pleased to note, was cold and steady. “Get out.”

  “My lady, please.”

  Swiveling her head, confident he wouldn’t be able to see her tears, Soleyla stared haughtily. Kantou was no more than a smudge against the darkness, an outline against the blackness behind him.

  “I said get out.”

  “My lady… Soleyla…”

  A shriek rose in her throat, burning. Soleyla clenched her jaw, fighting it. How far, in the moist air, would such a shriek carry? Would she betray their position for the satisfaction of screaming at Kantou? Rigidly, she spoke, her voice low and deadly.

  “Leave, Kantou. Now.”

  In the dim gray light, she saw him sink to his knees, his head bent, his face obscured by the fall of his thick, straight hair. In the shadowy dark, it glimmered like cobwebs, like raw silk. Her hand, itching to stroke it, closed into a fist instead.

  Uncurling herself, Soleyla rose to her full height, feeling adrenaline pumping through her legs, her arms, tightening the heavy muscles developed by years of combat, rushing down her limbs as if in preparation for a battle. She could feel the bloodlust growing in her, the desire to hurt, to maim, to rend…

  “I will warn you one last time, Kantou. Leave. Or I will break every vow I ever made to you.”

  He didn’t move.

  Fury shot through her and her body quivered as she strode forward, bringing her hand up to cuff him. As she approached, he raised his head, unflinching. His eyes were huge in his pale face, wide, waiting. Trembling with rage, she stood over him, poised to strike.

  “Please, Soleyla. Beat me. Hit me. I don’t care.” His voice was soft, desperate, pleading. “Only don’t, don’t ignore me any more.”

  At his tone, the fury in her climbed another notch, making her head spin with the urge, the bone-deep need, to smash him, batter him, break him until he crawled, whimpering, at her feet. Contemptuously, she kicked him, hard, in the chest, sending him sprawling backward across the jagged floor.

  Tears started from his eyes and yet he didn’t roll away, didn’t raise his arms to protect himself. He simply lay there, his eyes fixed mutely on her as she loomed over him, one booted foot poised to smash in his beautiful, treacherous face.

  You are not your mother, my lady.

  Merkun’s voice rang in her ears, as clearly as if he stood next to her in the darkness. Soleyla froze, jolted, it felt, out of herself. For a moment she stood, seeing herself, foot raised over Kantou ready to stomp him, shatter the bones of his face into a bloody pulp, seeing the black, poisonous pride inside her like an infection, a sickness her mother had long ago succumbed to.

  And he would let her, Soleyla realized. Making no move to defend himself, with no protest, no recrimination, not even judgment, Kantou would have let her.

  Spinning from him, Soleyla leapt for the cave’s opening just in time, collapsing onto her knees as she vomited, over and over, smelling the sickly tang of bile until the steady fall of rain washed it away.

  * * *

  The floor of the cave was cold under her cheek, and rough. Outside, the rain pattered on, soft and unfailing. Feeling as drained and empty as a bleached piece of driftwood, Soleyla pulled herself stiffly to a seat, her back against the stone.

  There was something near her in the darkness. Something warm, unmoving, so close all she had to do was reach out her hand to touch it. “Kantou,” she said, and that was all. That was enough. He came to her, silently, and laid his head in her lap. Wearily, she stroked his hair, finding comfort even in her exhaustion in the thick, silken feel of its heavy smoothness, sliding through her fingers like water.

  He loves you.

  All she could feel was a stunned sort of surprise, a dumb, animal gratitude at a gift so huge, so incomprehensible, she could do nothing but accept it. She felt him shift, sighing, under her caress. His arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear.

  “Soleyla,” he whispered, not a question, just her name. He said it again, as if the word alone were a benediction, a source of strength and comfort. “Soleyla.”

  A slight, tired smile curved her lips. What could she do? How could she resist that? Cupping her hand under his chin, she lifted gently, and he rose to his knees beside her. Tilting her head against the wall, she gazed at him, saw tears trembling at the corners of his eyes.

  “I thought… I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” he whispered, his voice cracking with remembered grief.

  Soleyla stared, bemused. “Why?”

  “You… you never spoke to me. Barely even looked at me. You wouldn’t… wouldn’t let…” He faltered, his gaze dropping.

  “Wouldn’t what, Kantou?”

  “You wouldn’t let me make love to you. Not like that. Not the way you let Rolen…”

  Soleyla straightened, reaching out to stroke Kantou’s face. His eyes, gray and luminous, stared into hers, pain shining nakedly in their depths.

  “You saw us?” He nodded. “Oh, Kantou,” she breathed. Drawing him to her, she wrapped one arm around him. He dropped his head to her shoulder, cupping her other hand between his, running his fingers over it again and again, as if to make sure it was real.

  Soleyla kissed the top of his head, smelling the clean, sweet scent of his hair. “You still don’t understand, do you? Everything I do -- everything, Kantou -- is for you.”

  He tilted his head back, studied her, confused. “But… you let him inside you, and you never…”

  Soleyla almost laughed as she finally understood. It was a bitter jest, though, and her jaw clenched, twisting her smile. As Kantou shifted, drawing back, afraid he’d offended her, she shook her head reassuringly, and pulled him back. “No, Kantou. It’s not you I’m angry at.”

  He was silent for a moment. She could feel his heartbeat, soft and even, beneath her palms. Then he asked, “But why wouldn’t you let me?”

  “Because, Kantou…” And this time she did chuckle, her amusement running like a warm thread through the worn, faded cloth of her emotions. “I wanted it to be special. Private. Something that was just between us. I wasn’t about to share it with Rolen.”

  “Oh.”

  Soleyla smiled again, hearing in his voice the same chagrined realization she’d felt a moment earlier. And then grinned as she leaned her head against his, letting her lips brush gently against his ear. “Rolen’s not here, Kantou.”

  His eyes widened, and he drew back, studying her. In the dim, lambent light she saw his throat work, swallowing, and felt
her exhaustion fall away.

  Her nerves tingled, suddenly aware of the cold, the damp night air, the hard rock beneath her. It was hardly the ideal place or time. But -- and the knowledge returned to her in a rush that set her pulse leaping -- it might be the only place and time they would ever have.

  Never before had the thought of battle frightened her. But now, Soleyla quailed at the possibilities the coming day might bring. Was it worth it? She would happily risk her own life, would risk the lives of Rolen’s men without a qualm -- they were fighting for their own lives, and the lives of their loved ones, after all -- but the idea of Kantou injured, Kantou killed, turned Soleyla’s knees to water. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t…

  Kantou was touching her, his hands stroking her cheekbones, her lips, her hair. Something of her fear must have showed, for he whispered, “I’m not afraid, Soleyla. I’m not afraid of dying. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you again.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he laid a gentle finger across her lips. “No. I won’t stay behind. I won’t wait, wondering, not knowing if you’ll return to me. Not here, not back at the camp. Where you go, I go. Even into death. Promise me that, my lady.”

  Her eyes closed as his words pierced her, penetrating her heart. It ached, overburdened, so full of love she could find no answer but to kiss him, to cover his mouth with hers, taste the salt of his dried tears on his lips. She pulled him to her, hungry for the feel of his tongue in her mouth, the rush of saliva as their tongues met, seeking, exploring, sliding against and around each other to dart eagerly deep between the other’s lips.

  With a sigh that was half sob, Kantou dragged her against him, covering her face with kisses, clasping her tightly, as if he thought she might turn to mist and float away. His mouth grazed her chin, her cheeks, his breath ragged in her ear as he nuzzled her neck.

  Soleyla’s hands slid over him, caressing his strong, broad shoulders, his arms, rising to run through his hair. Her fingers clenched in the smooth, heavy strands as he opened her shirt, bent his head to her breast, and suckled with a blind, hungry, animalistic greed.