Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
You Did This To me

Jonas was woken by Llew clambering over him to vacate the bed.

“What are you doin’?”

“Going to the chamber pot, if you must know,” she snapped. “You did this to me.”

Probably best not to comment. He’d been here before with Kierra. There was no winning, and no benefit in pointing out the equal participation in the causative event. And definitely not the time to point out that his trousers were bunched funny, and his belt was digging into his hip.

Not long after, Llew was climbing back across Jonas to snuggle up between him and the wall. Jonas had a moment of wishing they were back in Aldia already, and this was their life, before he succumbed to the folds of sleep once more.

He woke with a start in the dark before dawn. Tempting as it was to stay, he silently thanked whatever had woken him and slipped from the blankets. Llew stirred but didn’t wake.

He paused to watch her, for once totally relaxed. He wondered what she dreamed of to look like that. It seemed every aspect of her life brought a ton of worries and stresses. How far back did she have to go to find safety in her dreams? Back to when she still had a ma? Or did she see a future in which she was truly free?

Her eyebrows pinched together at some thought or other, and Jonas reached out to brush the crease away. Somehow, it worked. She even smiled a little. So did he. But he had to go. He needed to be in his room when the call came to get moving.

He was pulling the door closed as near silent as possible when another door cracked open farther along the corridor. Aris emerged. From Karlani’s room.

Jonas was too stunned to move. Aris, too, closed the door silently. Then he looked up.

The two men looked at each other a good few moments.

One part of Jonas prepared to counter Aris’s reprimand, while another tackled the disturbing thought that there was only one reason his captain was leaving Karlani’s room, desperate though he was to come up with another.

Aris broke the look first, turning away to head to his room.

Jonas stood a moment longer struggling with the notion that, while he was grateful for the dismissal, it meant his hunch was right. He couldn’t put a name to his discomfort, though, so he shook it free and headed for his own room.

The call to wake and get moving came all too early, and Llew was alone in her bed. Here, Jonas had rebelled against Aris for a mere cuddle, but hadn’t stayed long enough to face his captain in defiance? Llew didn’t understand, and she fumed. Better for him not to have come at all. She could have been on her way to a different Brurun town by now, dreaming up ways to get by alone, not this push and pull of being drawn to a man who wasn’t allowed to be with her.

She had no belongings of note to gather and stood by her horse under a shadow of resentment. She should’ve been gone, alone, not waiting to ride into a lion’s den.

While Aris was preoccupied packing his saddlebag, Jonas sidled up to Llew, placed a hand on her belly and gave her a light peck on her lips. Looping behind her, he pulled her hip into his and smiled at her.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he said in a hushed tone. “We’ll be fine.”

Reluctant as she was to believe him, his touch and words had the desired effect, and Llew relaxed, even almost looked forward to the journey. But he stepped back, half turning away, as Aris finished his task, and his departure left her cold. Damn him. She swung into her saddle and Amico snorted and threw his head.

“Me, too, boy. Me, too.”

The air was cold, the horses’ and riders’ breath visible. The sky was clear, the stars still out, and a light shimmer appeared on the ground as a frost settled.

Gaemil’s kitchen and stable staff had been up especially early to see them off comfortable and well-provisioned.

A light tap-tap-tap grew into the louder slap-slap-slap of Anya’s night-shoes as the girl ran across the courtyard, appearing from behind the huge fountain and making little attempt to slow as she approached the horses.

Llew slid from her horse and Anya ran into her arms.

Next came Gaemil, striding across the bricked yard. And behind him, Emylia.

Llew had hardly seen the woman since she’d returned from Turhmos. From Cheer to Rakun, Emylia and Aris had barely been separable. In fact, there had been mention of her going on to Quaver with them. What had changed?

She gave a stiff curtsy before Aris, then shook the hands of Hisham, Jonas and Karlani warmly. But she didn’t look at Aris again as she pulled Anya back from Llew. They’d both known it was coming, yet the act of parting still came as something of a shockand Llew’s heart settled heavy. Regardless, staying with Anya had never been an option.

Once Llew mounted again, the group gave a final wave to those who had woken early to see them off, turned their horses, and headed from the estate.

Rakun was a ghost town in that hour between the night and day. The only people up were the bakers with bread ovens adding the final crust, and a few others stumbling home after a too-long night.

Free of the city limits, the small group let their horses stretch, eating up the miles. The Brurun townships were strategically spaced along the main route, meaning comfortable accommodation would be the norm rather than the exception.

Unlike Aghacia’s pioneering population, the people of Brurun were largely settled in their cities or out on the land. Aris’s crew had struck no trouble when they’d come from Quaver and there was little reason to expect any this time around. With a group made up of one Karan, two Syakara and one Syaenuk with borrowed Syakaran power, there was little risk of striking trouble they couldn’t subdue.

Anya stood, staring dumbly at the gates where Llew and Jonas and everyone – it sure felt like everyone – had left minutes earlier. Gaemil had invited her to return inside, but she’d brushed him off, requesting a moment alone.

Llew was gone. Now what was she to do?

“Miss Anya?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“What?” Anya turned sharply, and the maid stepped back, as if she expected to be struck.

Anya could only imagine what terror she had presented the poor maid. She was a mess. Tear tracks had already begun drying on her cheeks, even as more made their way down. She’d woken too late and had to dash out without doing more than throwing on a simple dress and tugging her brush across the top layers of her hair. She hadn’t washed her face or anything.

She’d clung to her friend, hoping to take an impression of Llew into her own heart.

Gaemil was lovely, yes, but they were betrothed. There were certain expectations coming up that Anya simply hadn’t had to think about while Llew was around. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Llew would be going, but it still felt like the rug had been pulled from under her. She sniffed deeply and pulled a wrist across her sodden top lip. “What is it?”

“Miss Anya.” The maid curtsied. “I found something I thought you should see for yourself.” She looked nervous, her gaze flitting around direct eye-contact. “Well, really, Lord Tovias will need to see, but he—”

Anya nearly dismissed her. Now wasn’t the time for trivial matters, but the maid’s demeanor had her more than a little curious. “Show me.”

Anya half-ran to keep up with the maid’s determined pace. They headed inside and straight to the library. Anya had seen the library before.

The maid swung the door open, pressing herself into it to let Anya past.

The library, as she knew it, stood before her as ever before. But on the table where she and Llew had studied lay a mountain of books. A mountain of black and brown, smoldering books. Burned. All burned.

Anya felt numb.

The acrid smoke bit the back of her throat and she coughed, then sobbed.

Black. So much black. And wet. Water everywhere. Of course, they had to put them out, a part of her understood that, but water and books did not mix! Oh, the poor books!

A few loose pages floated across the room on the breeze generated by her entry. Who had done this?

Anya walked to the table and gathered up a couple of tomes that had slid from the pile, luckily leather-bound. The covers were still warm to the touch and slick, but intact. She hugged them to her chest, moaning. Her books. Her precious books!

She lay the books on the floor, risking damage to one to find out what the pages looked like. She eased a cover open, each creak of the leather firing panic through her, freezing her, but she persevered.

“No, no, no. Oh … no.” More black. Some brown smears, but mostly black. What words remained were smudged and faded. She pushed the book aside, pulled another closer, but it was the same. Someone had burned them all.

Someone cleared their throat. Anya turned again to see the maid who had brought her to the room.

“Does Gaem— Sorry. Does Lord Tovias know?” Anya asked.

The maid shook her head.

“Well, then.” Anya stood and brushed herself off. Some of the ash smeared an ugly black bruise into her dress, but such things were of little consequence when a pile of books lay massacred in the middle of the library. She took a calming breath. “I suppose someone better tell him, then. He won’t be happy.” He’d be downright livid if Anya was any judge.

She gazed at the devastating mess, let her eyes travel past it and up, up, up the rows upon rows of shelves. Her eyes rested on the one shelf devoid of books. She knew that shelf. The one that had held all the books she and Llew had been studying. All the books about Aenuks, Kara and Immortals. She knew who’d done it. Bastard!

She forced an empty smile to her lips when she turned back to the maid. “Please be gentle in your efforts to tidy all this up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The maid curtsied as Anya left.

Gaemil was hunched over his desk in his smaller study, the one where he expected to work without interruptions. Anya hesitated briefly before knocking on the ajar door and stepping in. Gaemil spun in his seat, irritation melting to delight before concern made its home.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Anya sought and found a small stool on which to sit. She didn’t think she could deliver the news standing.

Gaemil reached out and squeezed above her knees, giving her a big grin that drew out one of her own despite everything. He could still make Anya feel like the most important thing in the world, even when he was supposed to be busy. She took a moment to prepare herself for what she had to say.

She didn’t know what to say.

Gaemil, a man of learning, loved his books and, while Anya hadn’t known either of them long, it was obvious he held Aris in high esteem, too. Regardless. It had to be said.

“Aris burned the books.”

Gaemil blinked. His eyebrows dipped, raised. His mouth curved down, then quirked in a wry smile. “What books?”

“All the ones about Aenuks, Kara and Immortals. The ones from your library.”

“My books?” His tone was still light, like he hadn’t yet digested what she had served.

Anya nodded.

“Aris?” Gaemil’s mouth twisted, dubious.

Anya nodded again. “They are piled on the ground floor table. I’ve asked one of the maids to help tidy them up, carefully.”

Gaemil’s brow creased, then he stood. With a look he invited Anya to come along as he left the room and started back to the library. His long-legged strides carried him swiftly and Anya ran to keep up.

At the library door, he stood, staring, for a good few moments.

“Aris did this?” His voice was high and trembled with disbelief.

“I think so.” Anya spoke softly and took a self-conscious step back.

“You think so?” Unable to lash out at an unknown perpetrator, Gaemil’s anger flared in the look he turned on Anya. “You think so?!”

Anya didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t actually seen Aris light the books on fire. All she knew was that he’d shown an interest in them and now they were destroyed.

“I’ve known Aris since I was knee-high to a toad. He wouldn’t …” Gaemil turned back to the charred mess. “He wouldn’t …”

He suddenly backed out of the doorway and stormed down the corridor, anyone in his way taking evasive action for their own sakes. Anya didn’t know whether or not he expected her to follow. Was he angry at her for accusing his friend? Or did his anger lie where Anya thought it should: with Aris?

Her own gaze drifted back through the door to the horrid sight before her. She was supposed to be reading up about Aenuks and how Llew could learn to control her power better, and maybe prepare for whatever this baby of hers was going to be. How could she be of any help to her friend now?

“Miss Anya?” One of the girls in the room approached. She held forth a little blue book, strangely uncharred. Anya took it from her and opened it carefully, half expecting the pages to crumble as soon as she exposed them to air. But this one was still supple, untouched by flame or smoke. Something slipped from its pages, fluttering to the floor a few feet away. She snatched it up, but it was nothing; simply a torn corner of a blank sheet of paper. A placeholder, perhaps.

She flipped the book open. It was a slim volume. Handwritten. But not Aris’s writing, as far as Anya could tell. Dates, lengths, estimated ages of ‘infant’ and, later, ‘fetus’ were recorded along with notes of maternal wellbeing. Clearly a midwifery notebook, to Anya’s eyes. Flipping to the final entry, she found notes on the birth of Gaemil’s younger brother, now a landowner in Neran. The pages leading up to it recorded the child’s development inside the womb. Back another page was Gaemil’s sister, now off married to a prince in some country Anya could never remember the name of. Flipping back a few more pages she found: Gaemil Oswalt Tovias, 7lb 6oz, 21in. Healthy baby boy. She caught herself smiling at the entry, picturing the tall, powerful man as a babe-in-arms, then she reminded herself what she was looking at: evidence. Every book was a clue to what Aris might have been thinking when he decided to set them alight, and only this one seemed to have survived. Untouched, as if it had been elsewhere.

“Where did you find this one?” Anya flipped back through the last few pages.

“His room, miss.”

Anya looked up, and the maid held her gaze.

“Rana found it when she was changing the sheets, miss.”

Notes prior to the births mostly referred to maternal health, with a few notes about fetal heart rates in the weeks leading up to the birth itself. Anya couldn’t think of any reason Aris would be interested in such a volume, unless he was taking a strong interest in Llew’s baby, which she supposed he might, given that the child was also Jonas’s.

The maid who had handed her the book remained in the doorway, another book in her hand, though she lowered it, half hiding it behind her leg when Anya looked up.

“What is that?” Anya asked.

“What, Miss?” The girl pressed her arm in tighter, all but hiding the tiny notebook entirely.

Anya looked directly at the woman. “The book you’re hiding. Hand it over.”

Cheeks reddening slightly, she held the book up.

The cover was almost totally black. Anya brushed her fingers over it, lightening it to a shade of brown and revealing a black motif in the shape of a coat-hanger. Unenlightened, she flipped open the cover. Blackened paper fractured and fell away. Brown pages, so damaged that any writing they held was faint or entirely obliterated, crinkled and cracked under her touch.

“What is this?” she asked, scowling at the script. With no answer forthcoming, she looked up. “What is it?”

The maid’s hands were clasped behind her and her eyes darted everywhere while she blinked at something approaching Karan speed. Anya didn’t let her own gaze waiver.

“It’s a—” The maid cleared her throat. “It’s an abortionist’s notebook.” The girl’s eyes dared a brief look at Anya before darting down again.

“I don’t … oh.” The word hadn’t made a frequent appearance in Anya’s vocabulary, but the meaning soon came to her. “Oh!” Anya clasped a hand to her lips. She didn’t know where he had found it, but Aris’s interest and attempt to hide it painted a dreadful picture. A chill ran down her spine and a sickly sensation settled in her belly.

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