Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
Only Aris

Aris walked his horse across the stones, reined in and sat for several moments, letting his obvious disapproval do his talking. The older man had perfected the art of combining parental and military control over the years; quick to remind Jonas that his heritage and his fame gave him no free passes. When Jonas fired up, Aris cooled him down. When Jonas bolted for trouble, Aris held a tight rein. Only Aris could bring together the soothing calm of a mother, the stern pride of a father and the hardline captain into one package. Even his body reflected this in his straight bearing and slightly portly tummy.

Only Aris knew Jonas better than Jonas knew himself.

Jonas was almost driven to apologize without his graying captain uttering a word. He clamped his lips tight.

Karlani brought her horse alongside Aris’s, her appreciative glance making Jonas pull his shirt on and button up in a hurry. The Syakaran woman looked past him and glared full hatred at Llew, her dark eyes even darker under a furrowed brow. Jonas took the half step required to block that line of sight.

“Enough.” Aris spoke just loud enough to be heard over the river. “Hisham. Take Llew back to Gaemil’s.”

Jonas went to protest, but Aris leveled a no-nonsense look at him and Karlani moved her horse a couple of steps closer, like a menacing bodyguard. Like Jonas would’ve only weeks earlier.

No harm done letting Aris send Llew back to the mansion. Their afternoon was over anyway.

He nodded to Hisham, as if his friend had been waiting on his okay. The Karan lieutenant was already following the order, and Llew, thankfully, wasn’t protesting.

Jonas watched Hisham lead Llew back through the trees, then he turned back to Aris.

“So,” said Aris, “this is what you’ve been doing instead of running the training exercises with Gaemil’s staff.”

“I’ve run exercises every day since I got back from Turhmos. I needed a break. Nobody can work the schedule I’ve been keepin’ without a rest.”

Aris grinned. “I should have you arrested on the spot. It is Quaven army policy that a soldier takes leave only at the say so of a superior officer. You may be Quaver’s hero, Lieutenant, but you are still my bitch.” Aris’s smile turned ugly, doggish, before transitioning to something approaching sympathetic. “And we both know why, don’t we?”

Jonas nodded. The hot-blooded Syakaran needed a firm hand, lest he make monumental mistakes in the blink of someone else’s eye. And Jonas had made mistakes.

“Need I remind you, that you owe Quaver a Syakaran male child to lead the next generation of soldiers?” Aris waved a hand at Karlani.

Jonas stared flatly at Karlani. The woman looked like the cat that’s left a rat at the front door; all sensual pride.

“That you owe Quaver their next hero?” Aris pushed.

Jonas thought back on all those nights he’d come home to his late wife, Kierra, when she believed he’d been off doing as Aris asked – whether or not it was true that time. He thought back to those nights of her sobbing over dinner, of her crying herself to sleep. He’d hated it. Hated himself for doing it. He hadn’t known how to stop it. Could he stop it now? For Llew?

Karlani helped. The thought of that woman boasting to Llew made Jonas feel ill. Never mind the part he’d have to play.

“Well?” Aris said. “Do I need to remind you that only Syakaran women have Syakaran sons?”

“What would a Syaenuk have?” Jonas found he’d said it aloud. What would Llew have?

“Nothing. Llew will have nothing, not with you.”

“But what if she did?”

Aris narrowed his eyes, but Jonas returned only open curiosity.

“Like I said, probably nothing. Or some inferior hybrid. Like a mule.”

“Mules are kinda useful,” Jonas murmured, still trying to get his head around the possibilities.

“Mules don’t lead armies. They bring up the wagons at the rear.”

What would Llew have? A Syaenuk? A Syakaran? Or something else entirely?

“Don’t waste our time even thinking on. Your country needs you to be a soldier, not some over-sexed young buck off gallivanting with the enemy!”

“Llew’s not—”

“Llew is Aenuk. She’s about as far from our ally as it gets. And it’s time you acted like it.”

“She ain’t like other Aenuks.”

“You think the crowd that made their way across Quaver to kill your folks was like other Aenuks? Them folks passed for normal. We still don’t know where they crossed the border, and Aldia’s a long ways across Quaver, from any direction. They didn’t raise a single eyebrow.”

Fifteen years and the wound was still raw. Jonas felt very small, standing before the two riders. Like the seven-year-old he’d been when his parents were murdered.

“We’ve let Llew closer to you than any Aenuk should get. I think it’s time we start behavin’ like we remember what she is and what she can do. That... girl has the power to kill you with a touch. She could siphon your life from you faster’n you can draw breath, let alone a knife. And, yes, I’m talkin’ about you, not just anyone. You.”

But she’d saved his life. The only reason they hadn’t told Aris was because it would mean telling him Llew already carried his child. They hadn’t had time to come to grips with it themselves, let alone deal with what Aris would have to say.

“I’ve been tellin’ you since the day we found out what she was that girl would bring trouble. Are you going to listen this time?”

Out of arguments, Jonas nodded.

“It’s a big change for him, Llew.” Anya turned another page of the book laid out on the table in front of her.

The table stood at the center of the estate’s library, a vast room, three mezzanine levels tall, walls packed with row after row of books.

“I’ve done a lot of reading about Quaver, and they’re all taught to hate Aenuks from a young age. That’s what Aris has known all his life. That’s an awfully long time.” Anya pressed her lips together. “I suppose he’s not that old. Still, it’s a long time to hold a belief. Hard to shift.” She returned her attention to the book, running a finger down the page, on the lookout for something of interest. “Now, Karlani might be a problem. It’s well-documented that Syakaran male children have only ever been born to Syakaran mothers. So, it makes sense for Jonas to, ah, spend time with Karlani.” Her finger continued down the page, then jumped to the top of the next.

Llew didn’t need to hear this. What was best for Quaver certainly wasn’t best for her. Whose business was it who Jonas... spent time with, anyway?

Anya paused in her search, resting a sympathy-laden gaze on Llew.

“It’s what happens, Llew. I always knew my husband would be chosen for me. The gods know there wasn’t anyone suitable in Cheer. I got lucky, I guess.”

That was a surprise to hear. When they’d first arrived in Rakun, Anya hadn’t exactly been overjoyed at the age gap between herself and her intended. Sure, she’d known Gaemil was older, but after traveling several weeks with Jonas, Alvaro, and Cassidy – three men only a handful of years her senior and of some physical appeal – meeting the somewhat portly, somewhat balding thirty-something lord had come as a bit of a shock for Anya, to say the least.

Anya smiled as if she’d been reading Llew’s thoughts.

“I don’t suppose you’ve looked at him the way I do. Especially not with your head already turned.” The sympathy returned and she placed a hand over Llew’s. “I’m sure once Jonas has done what he needs to do, Aris will be much more lenient about the two of you.”

That wasn’t helping. Anya seemed to sense that, as her reassuring smile faltered.

“I mean …” Anya sat back. “You know what? To hell with what I mean.” Her cheeks colored. “How does he know you and Jonas wouldn’t make perfect babies? What does anyone know? There simply hasn’t been a case of a Syakaran and Syaenuk, ah, marrying before. Nothing I’ve read, anyway.” She leaned forward again, wide-eyed and eager. “Gosh. You could have anything!”

Llew lowered her gaze, resisting the urge to place a protective hand over her baby. It didn’t need to hear everyone’s speculation over what it might or might not be. It just needed to get born, preferably free and preferably with a pa. Actually, Llew had known plenty of fatherless children, even more parentless altogether, and they’d mostly managed alright. It was Llew who needed her child’s pa. She wasn’t sure she could do this on her own.

“Of course, I suppose it could be like how you can’t heal him,” Anya continued, off in her own trail of thoughts. “Perhaps you can’t even have children together.”

Llew looked up, keeping all expression from her face. Jonas had said the same, right before he realized what she was telling him. But Anya didn’t have the benefit of knowing Llew had healed Jonas, had brought him back to life, and could do so because she carried his baby. But she couldn’t tell Anya. Not yet. She didn’t know if the news would stop at Anya, and sure wasn’t ready for Aris to know.

“I’m sure there are plenty of happy childless couples out there,” Anya was saying. “But Aris is right. Jonas is Quaver’s future, and if you can’t give him Syakaran children, then...” Anya stopped, pressed fingers to her lips, then gaped at Llew, all wide-eyed shock. “I’m sorry, Llew. I was thinking aloud. Just thoughts. No harm done, right?”

Llew gave her a weak smile. Speculation that she and Jonas may not be able to conceive was an argument already lost.

“Forgive me, Llew,” Anya pleaded. “I grew up believing people fell in love despite being married, rather than getting married for love. Forgive me?”

“Of course.” Anya was only saying what everyone else would be thinking. Better to hear it from a friendly source.

“Thank you. Now, we just need to find out something useful about Aenuks, or better yet, Syaenuks, like you.” Anya looked down at her book, flipped a couple of pages, then looked back up at Llew. “It would have been nice to have parents to learn from. But the next best thing is books. We’ll find something.” She patted Llew’s arm.

Resting her head in her palm, Llew attempted to return her attention to her own book. She needed to learn about her power. If nothing else, it would provide a distraction. The fact remained; she was little more than a passenger in her own body as things currently stood. Her power flowed through her, with or without her say so. She’d managed a measure of control when she’d brought Jonas and Cassidy back to life without fully restoring their health, in an effort not to leave too much death behind them. But she’d needed Hisham’s help to stick to that plan. Anya was so sure there would be something in Gaemil’s library. He certainly had enough books.

Llew puffed out a hefty sigh and let her eyes move down one page and the next. The words blurred together. So many words.

“You’ve not spoken of your time in Turhmos,” Anya said.

“And I won’t.” Keeping head in hand, Llew swiveled in her seat so her arm blocked Anya’s view.

Flown – yes, flown – into Turhmos by Braph with his magic device powered by Aenuk blood, Llew had few positive memories of the country. In his ‘home’, lined with copper piping that tinkled with running water, Braph had enslaved her. First for her blood, which he collected via blood-sucking mechanical spiders. Second for her body, which he had used as a substitute for her mother, whom Llew was to replace. The only good thing that had come from being there had been finding out that her father hadn’t abandoned her five years prior, but had instead been kidnapped himself after trying to lead Braph astray the first time he had located Llew. For five years, her father had been providing Braph’s supply of Aenuk blood. But it wasn’t enough for Braph. He’d still craved the power of the Syaenuk blood he had drained from Llew’s ma. And so, he had sought Llew again.

Llew had escaped Braph’s home, accidentally killed her father, and allowed Cassidy to die. The entire journey, adventure, whatever one might want to call it had left her feeling like a failure. And still a little dirty, like she couldn’t wash Braph’s touch from her skin.

She didn’t want to think about what had happened in Turhmos. She most definitely didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m here if you ever need to.”

Llew shot up from her chair, slammed her book closed, and let her scowl tell Anya what she thought about talking. Over dramatic? Perhaps. But clear.

Anya looked mildly uncomfortable about returning Llew’s gaze, but otherwise she simply returned kindness. Now Llew had made a spectacle, she couldn’t sit down and pretend nothing had happened.

“I— I’m getting a headache. I’m going to have a lie down.”

“Of course. You should relax. I’ll have a bath sent to your room.”

Llew left the library unable to decide whether to accept or decline Anya’s offer. It grated to think of Anya trying to understand what being in Turhmos had been like for Llew. No matter how much Anya wanted to help, Llew would rather protect her friend from the knowledge of the things that had happened to her.

She paused under the family portrait again. The woman looked so happy. Mothers always seemed happy. Maybe something happened when you had a child. Maybe it would all work out.

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