Untouchable. Part 16

Chapter Thirteen.

TARI wanted to rush the camp of soldiers and tell everyone what had really happened. To her, to Princess Edlyn. She could tell everything, and that would ruin Vyrn's plans.

But she quickly decided that strategy would not be wise. First of all, the soldiers might believe Vyrn's stories over hers. After all, it was clear that the men didn't like her very much. So instead of making her presence known and trying to ruin Vyrn's plans, she followed them for three days. During daylight hours they divided into groups of two or three and went in opposite directions to search for the prince and Sanura. They always set a meeting place a short way down the road, and they were always at that meeting place-unsuccessful in their search-by sunset.

Tari was always there, too, well hidden in the forest so she could watch and listen for a while before retiring to whatever lonely, dark hole she had chosen for her bed that night. Since she had the majority of the day to make herself comfortable, it was no trouble to find a hollow or a cave or a thicket where she might conceal herself. During the other hours of the day she collected herbs and mushrooms from the forest. The foliage here was a bit different from her homeland, but there were enough similarities for her to be certain about what she found. She avoided the few plants which were completely foreign to her, just in case. She ate very well, considering her circ.u.mstances.

She found fresh water aplenty, so she could bathe and drink, and she usually spent at least a small amount of time sitting in the sun and thinking about the days to come. Her initial anger turned into an unexpected serenity as she planned for the coming days. Perhaps tonight she would make her move. Yes, tonight would be fine.

SANURA almost wished the sentinels would find them, but her days and nights continued unchanged. She walked until she felt as if her legs would buckle beneath her, but they never did. Trystan led her, he fed and watered her just enough to keep her alive, and Alix seemed farther and farther away with each step they took.

Trystan had not touched her since that night when he'd made her lie and tell him that she loved him. She'd been desperate to get what she wanted-Trystan inside her so she could see all that she needed to see. But in the end he'd been stronger than her. He'd denied himself, he'd even laughed at her own need and easy response.

On some nights she dreamed of Mali, and in the way of their first sleep connection it was more real than not. Mali was distressed by Sanura's current situation; she was afraid there would be no one to come for her, to take her away from home, to hold and love her. In the dreams Sanura did hold the little girl, and she made promises she prayed she would be able to keep.

She took as much comfort in those dreams as she offered.

"We should reach Arthes by tomorrow afternoon," Trystan said in an almost jovial voice as he tugged on her rope. "I'm still a bit annoyed that you made me walk, and even more annoyed that we have not found a decent horse to steal, but I have been enjoying the antic.i.p.ation of what's to come more than I'd thought I would. It's a pleasure I would not have enjoyed if not for you, so I suppose I should thank you properly." He turned and winked at her. "I do know how to thank you properly, don't I, Sanura?"

She did not respond, and he turned to the front again.

"There are so many different ways to kill someone," he continued, "and when that someone is one's own brother, well, the act should be symbolic and meaningful in some way, don't you think? I could run him through with his own imperial sword, or spear him with the emperor's ceremonial staff, or choke him with his own crimson imperial robe. I could smile and end his life quickly, or I could make his death last so he is sure to remember in the next life that it was his brother who ended his time in this world."

Sanura ignored Trystan's words. She had quickly learned that anything she said only spurred him on, only encouraged his ramblings.

He glanced back at her and grinned. "You condemn me with your silence, love. Don't be so harsh. Any man who finds himself emperor should surely expect political intrigue and a.s.sa.s.sination. It comes with the throne."

"Will it come with yours?" she snapped, in her anger unable to stop herself from responding, even though she knew it would only prolong the agony of this conversation.

His smile faded. "I suppose it will. I won't be as gullible as Jahn, however. No one will surprise me. No one will sneak upon me."

"No one will love you."

Trystan pretended not to care about such a trivial matter, but she felt the flare of anger within him. Only someone who wanted love would demand to hear the words, even if they knew the words to be false.

"You will," he said, and then he turned about and increased their pace. When he walked faster, she had no choice but to do the same. It was either that or be dragged. "You will love me."

Sanura had become accustomed to the constant trudge, the endless hours of walking. As she walked, she thought of Mali and of Alix and how she needed to find a way to save both of them. She thought of the love she'd found and how quickly it had been taken away. Sometimes Trystan rambled; sometimes he was silent for hours on end. She preferred the silence.

It was late in the afternoon when Trystan stopped abruptly. He came to a halt in the middle of the rough road they had been traveling all day. For a few moments he simply stood there, motionless and straight of spine.

"What's..." Sanura began, but Trystan quickly silenced her with a lifted hand and a glare before he dropped to the ground and placed his hand upon the path.

"Horses," he said. "Three of them, perhaps four."

"The sentinels who search for us?" she asked.

"I don't know." Trystan drew his sword and turned toward Sanura.

For a moment she thought he would kill her with that sword, rather than risk that she might tell all she knew about the prince and his other self. The sword swung and she closed her eyes, but she felt no pain. She opened her eyes to see that he had cut the tether which tied them together, waist to waist.

Of course, being tied to her would only hamper him if he had to fight.

He pointed the tip of his sword at her, seeming to aim for her nose. "Run, and I will find you."

Maybe-maybe not, Sanura thought as she edged toward the thick forest.

Trystan c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "And if by some chance I can't find you, I'll make my way back to Donia's cottage and I will kill her and the demon child. They will never see it coming." He grinned. "They trust me."

Sanura's heart sank. He knew how much the child meant to her. Would he really go so far? Yes. Not only that, he could reveal Mali's heritage and be hailed a hero for killing the offspring of the Isen Demon. "I won't run."

He turned his head and grinned at her as she slunk just inside the shadows of the forest. "I never needed that rope at all, did I? Just the threat of harm to that demon child is enough to keep you under control."

Sanura did not answer. How could she love and hate the man behind the same face? How could she long to save him and to see him dead? As long as Trystan lived, Mali was in danger. As long as Alix lived, there was hope.

The hors.e.m.e.n were coming from the direction in which she and Trystan had been traveling, and they were coming fast. Since there was a curve in the road, they could not see the men who approached, but the noise of their advance grew louder and louder. It took Trystan only a moment to move a long fallen limb into the path. He stared at the limb for a moment, frowning, and then he looked to Sanura.

"Move to the middle of the path," he said.

"What?"

He grabbed her arm and all but threw her to the middle of the road, positioning her just behind the long limb. "Don't move. You know what will happen if you do."

Sanura faced the direction from which the riders would appear, bound hands at her waist, chin high as she tried to appear unafraid, even as her heart pounded. The horses' hoofbeats on the path grew louder with each heartbeat, with each breath she took. She imagined those horses' hooves knocking her down and running over her body, and she wondered if death from such an accident would be quick or painfully slow. Still, she did not doubt Trystan's threats, and she would not save herself and sacrifice Mali.

When it seemed that the riders were right around the corner, she closed her eyes.

THE spring weather in the Eastern Province was much nicer than the cold Verity had left behind, and as they moved farther south, the difference became more and more p.r.o.nounced. There were flowers everywhere, and the warm sunshine felt nice on her skin.

Laris had led her from the creek where she'd bathed to a small and apparently rarely traveled path which wound toward Arthes. In the past three days they had seen two other travelers, and neither of them had been at all threatening. In fact, those two men had both studied Laris with suspicion, as the sentinel was armed and far superior physically to either of them.

She could almost hope they never reached the capital city, that she never faced Emperor Jahn at all. She and Laris could walk these roads forever.

In theory that was nice, but in reality her feet hurt and she was in dire need of another bath-a proper one, this time-and her legs ached horribly.

Laris glanced at her. "Would you like to ride awhile?" He always seemed to know when she reached the breaking point, when she felt as if her legs could take no more.

She nodded, and he squatted down slightly. Verity climbed onto his back, placing her arms about his neck and her legs around his waist. It was a totally improper position for her to a.s.sume, but over the past few days she'd grown accustomed to it.

Yes, she'd become accustomed to the feel of Laris's firm back and wide shoulders, to the smell of his skin and the sensation of his soft hair against her cheek. She'd become accustomed to the sound of his voice and the rhythm of his breath, and to the way he never complained about carrying her, not even when he grew tired and his shoulders began to sag.

Did he carry her because he loved her? Did he bear her weight because she'd tricked him with a witch's potion? How stupid that had been! She'd wanted to test the potion, just in case she one day needed to use it on her emperor husband, and she'd also wanted to make sure she had an ally for the long journey, but she had never considered that she might be ruining someone's life, that she might be creating a burden of another sort.

"Tell me about your family," she said, to take her mind off her own guilt.

"Again?" Laris laughed.

"Well, you have a lovely large family, and when you speak of your parents and brothers and sisters, it all sounds so very different from my own family tales."

Laris obliged and told her a story about his youngest brother, a boy who always seemed to be in some sort of trouble. This particular tale was about sneaking off to fish when ch.o.r.es were neglected, which seemed a common enough tale. It was the way Laris told the story that made it amusing, and Verity wished she had such tales to tell. Her privileged life seemed boring compared with Laris's family. During the telling of the fish story, he laughed and she laughed, and after a while she rested her head against his and held on tight. The miles went by too quickly. Every step took them closer to Arthes and her fate.

As empress, she would have all that any woman could desire. Money, clothes, servants, a fine home, power...jewelry! She had almost forgotten about the fine jewels which would surely come with the position. Any woman would be impressed by the possibility of being constantly adorned with the finest of jewels. She sighed. Some of them would probably be horribly heavy and uncomfortable, a sparkling burden. She had never thought of jewels as a burden before!

Laris finished his story and grew quiet. His breathing was more labored than it had been before, so Verity told him she wished to walk.

"I don't mind carrying you a while longer," he said.

"I'm getting a cramp in my leg, and I need to walk to work it out." She lied rather than argue, because she knew carrying her was a burden-not a sparkling one-and she did not want Laris to suffer.

He would suffer when she married the emperor, unless she found a way to undo the potion's effects. She would suffer, too, but it would be of her own doing. Perhaps she should suffer.

Uh, no. How silly was that?

Laris put her down and waited a moment while she smoothed her skirt and her hair.

"At this rate we will probably be in Arthes in less than a week," he said.

Less than a week! Perhaps she should walk slower, or insist on more time to sleep at night.

"Unless, of course, you . . . change your mind."

Verity lifted her head and looked Laris in the eye. "Change my mind about what?"

He held her arms with his large, roughened hands. "They think you're dead, Verity. That is the message the emperor will receive when Wallis and Cavan reach Arthes. For all we know, they're already there and have already delivered the message that you drowned in the river. If you don't go to Arthes, if you don't present yourself as a candidate for empress, then..." He gulped once, and seemed unable to continue.

She held her breath. "Then what?" she said when she could breathe again.

"We could get married," he said quickly, as if he had to spit the words out to make them go. "You could live with my family until we can afford a place of our own. You could change your name and hide away and no one would ever know that Lady Verity of Mirham survived the journey."

"Not even my parents?" Verity asked in a small voice.

Laris's face fell and he lowered his eyes. "You're right. It was a stupid idea. I don't know what I was thinking." He turned and started walking again, his back to her so she could not see his face.

If he truly loved her, she might be tempted to say yes to his ridiculous proposal, even though it would mean sharing a small house with eight people for a while and doing without all the fine things to which she'd become accustomed. It also meant not being empress. If what he felt for her was true and not magically manufactured, she might change her name to Anya or Felyciny, or Leisa-well, not Felyciny, even though that was a common enough name. Anya or Leisa was more elegant and appropriate.

What on earth was she thinking? She was actually considering choosing a false name!

"I can't let my parents think I'm dead," she said as she hurried to catch up with him. "And I really should tell someone that Wallis tried to murder me. He should not be allowed to get away with such an atrocious act."

"You're right, of course," Laris said, even though he didn't sound as if he believed she was right at all.

"But..."

Laris turned and looked down at her. "But what?"

"But we really don't have to rush toward Arthes. I was told the emperor would make his choice on the first night of the Summer Festival, which is weeks away."

"What are you saying?"

"The next time my legs begin to hurt, perhaps we could just stop for a while." She glanced off the road to the gentle hills in the distance. "And perhaps we could veer from the path on occasion so I can see more of this lovely province. It's very different from home."

"What of informing your parents of your survival and informing the emperor that Wallis tried to kill you?"

"I doubt that Wallis will send word to my parents immediately, especially as there is no body to send home. And as to the other, well, justice will be served, but I don't know why it can't wait."

Laris smiled a little, and Verity reached out to take his hand in her own.

THE riders, three of them, came around the corner at a gallop, but reacted well when they saw Sanura standing in their path-just as Trystan had suspected they would. One rider veered to her left, the other to the right, and the man in the middle pulled on his horse's reins and reared back, barely missing her. The horse's hooves came very near her face. In that moment, Trystan's heart seemed to stop. He allowed his attention to stray from the riders and move entirely to Sanura. It was a luxury which could not last long.

As the rider in the middle of the road tried to bring his horse under control, he fell off and hit the road hard, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of his companions.

The three men were armed, but did not wear the uniforms of sentinels. They were bearded and large and dirty, and wore mismatched clothing, some pieces finely made and others desperately in need of repair.

Mercenaries or highwaymen, then, searching for their next victims.

Trystan remained hidden in the shadows of the forest, taking a moment to size up his opponents. After a few seconds he could tell which was the strongest and which was the smartest, and which was so slow he could be saved for last.

Sanura opened her eyes as one of the men, the smart one, dismounted and walked toward her with an angry leer on his face. "Woman, what on earth are you doing standing in the middle of the road? Didn't you hear us coming? Don't you have the sense the One G.o.d gave a toad? He reared his hand back as if to strike her, and that was when Trystan made his move. He tossed his dagger with precision. It flew through the air and landed, as intended, in the man's raised hand.

The man who had thought to strike Sanura screamed and clutched at his wounded hand as Trystan leaped from the shadows.

His first opponent was the one who had fallen from his horse-the strongest of the three, by Trystan's estimation. The man wielded a short-bladed sword that had not been properly cared for. He swung it with verve and strength but very little skill.

The last rider to remain horsed-the slow one- dismounted to see to his squealing, wounded companion. That one was a follower, not a leader. He was a man who did as he was told when he was told, and did not tax himself with making decisions.

Out of the corner of his eye Trystan saw the man who'd thought about hitting Sanura yank the dagger from his hand, grab her, and begin to shout.

The rider who fought Trystan made a mad stab with his blade, and Trystan skillfully finished him off with a single thrust.

Two to one was much better odds. Trystan turned to face the man who held Sanura, and he smiled. "Thieves or mercenaries?" he asked crisply.

The smart one held Trystan's b.l.o.o.d.y dagger to Sanura's throat. "What is it to you?"

"I wish to steal or purchase your fallen comrade's horse, as he no longer has need of it and I do, and I'm wondering if I'll have to kill all three of you in order to make that happen. Thieves I can bargain with. Mercenaries are likely to need killing."

"In that case, we're thieves."

"Good to know. If we're going to bargain, you can release the woman." Something deep inside him did not like seeing that blade at Sanura's throat. One smooth and relatively minor motion, and she'd be dead. He had threatened to kill her himself, and still might, but she would die by his hand-no other's.

"I don't think it would be wise to release her just yet," the man who held Sanura said. "You put a dagger through my hand, and it hurts! You also killed my cousin. By rights, I should kill your woman in return."

They called her his, and she was. Bound as she was, beautiful as she was, she was obviously a possession which could be bartered just as the horse was.