Resenting the Hero (3 page)

Another exclamation of delight. Damn it. I glanced down to the beginning of the line. Source Devereaux had made her match. And it wasn't me.

I took a deep breath. And then another.
Stay calm, damn it.

There had been no guarantee that Devereaux would Choose me. Absolutely none at all. To become upset that the results had not been what I hoped would be childish and unproductive.

Bradford, Viola, stood before me. We looked at each other. Nothing happened. Big surprise.

Sources Creol and Karish were left. Wonderful selection. I carefully clenched my teeth.

I watched the two remaining Sources work their way down the line. I watched the Shields react to them, despite their best efforts to appear stoic. When Creol approached, one could perceive the slightest stiffening of neck and shoulders as the Shields did their best not to lower their gaze and avoid the Choice. When Creol left, one could detect the relaxing of the posture as the Shields breathed deeply in relief.

Karish, on the other hand, brought quickened breath and brightened eyes. There was a subtle shifting of balance to the ball of the foot, as though each Shield were ready to leap into a run at the Source's word. And when Karish moved on, the slight drooping of the shoulders screamed disappointment.

And then he was before me. Creol. Staring down at me with horribly piercing, yellowish brown eyes. I steeled my spine and glared right back, daring him to Choose me. He was not going to know I was a quivering coward.

And nothing happened. For an endless moment I waited, not even breathing. I still wasn't sure how long it could take, and with the luck I had already experienced that night it seemed certain that Creol must Choose me. But time drained by, and there was no pull or shock or anything else I'd been told to expect, and Creol was already looking beyond me to his next victim. I figured he had to know what he was doing, he had done this so many times before.

The sharp relief I felt at not being Chosen by that man was a nice, cool shock. It almost made up for the earlier disappointments. So Devereaux and Black and neither of the Bradfords had Chosen me. Neither had Creol. Life was wonderful.

My brothers would never let me forget it, that I was left all alone and pathetic in the Circle. There were worse things.

Karish stood before me. He had gone through half the line without Choosing. I wondered if he was getting worried. I wondered why I was even there. I looked up at him.

Light slapped into my eyes, blinding me and setting my ears to ringing. It almost hurt. Lightning raced through my veins and burst through my skin, I could feel it. My lungs threatened to collapse in my chest. I couldn't breathe, and I thought about panicking.

Just as abruptly, the light vanished. I could see, I could hear, I could breathe, and I was standing on my own two feet. I looked up into gleaming dark eyes, and I thought about panicking.

Karish. The Stallion of the Triple S. My Source. I was chained to a legend. An infamous legend. Stories of drunkenness, whoring, and general recklessness filled my head. Oh. My. God. I must have been
evil
in a former life.

This was it. The person I would work with the rest of my life. Moving with him as we were transferred from post to post. Learning how he moved and felt and thought. Most importantly, learning how he channeled. Because from that instant on, my most important task was protecting this man while he worked, making sure the forces he manipulated while calming tsunami and cyclones and other natural events didn't end up killing him.

I would die with this man. He'd catch some sexual disease, or some enraged spouse would kill him, and the bond would drag me down with him. He was that sort, the sort that shone too bright and burned out fast.

Hell.

He grinned, and of course my brain immediately froze solid. He took my hand and kissed the back of it, which was odd enough behavior to keep me silent. I let him pull me out of the line because I really couldn't believe what had just happened. “I'm Shintaro Karish,” he said, as if there were any chance I didn't already know who he was. “My friends call me Taro. I am very pleased to finally meet you.”

Finally. Like he had been aware of my existence for more than half a moment and had been desperately anticipating our introduction. Very good. And he had a tenor born for the stage. I'd always been soft for a good male voice. But what was that accent? Sources and Shields were raised in different academies, but we all ended up with the same bland accent. His drawl, with its rolling
r
's, was definitely aristocratic, and the pretension disgusted me.

He was beautiful. I usually preferred blonds, but even I had to admit that he was visually stunning. The slightly longish black hair, the black eyes with just a touch of an enticing slant, the finely drawn nose, cheekbones, and jaw. Good teeth, well-shaped mouth, warmly bronzed skin. A gold ring glinted in his left lobe in defiance of the rules and tradition of the Match. He wasn't too tall, but he was lean, with elegant hands and an excellent stance.

Was that my mouth watering? Of course not.

But he slept with a different partner every night. Or so they said. And I'd never been one to follow a crowd.

On the other hand, we were Paired. For life. No matter how impossible that seemed at the moment. I couldn't ignore him as I would like, and being rude to him would only make things difficult for me. So I smiled politely. “Dunleavy Mallorough.” I remembered to withdraw my hand. “It will be an honor to serve.”

He raised an ebony brow in obvious amusement. “I see,” he murmured.

I was immediately suspicious. Just what did he think he saw?

Another shout distracted me. Black had found his match in Jamin Tan.

“Are your family here?” Karish asked.

Oh, Zaire. My family. Wouldn't they just be thrilled? Especially my father, his little girl bonded to the Stallion. For of course they had heard of the Stallion, even though they weren't part of the Triple S. Everyone had heard of the Stallion.

Aye, they were there. “Are yours?” I asked him, because I had to say something.

He smiled again, but this time it was a rather twisted effort. “Of course not.”

Oh. Well. Now what? I had no questions to ask him. I already knew all about his life. I looked back at the line.

The Match was over. Sources Creol and Viola Bradford hadn't Chosen. I wondered if they were as disappointed as all the Shields who had suffered the same fate. I doubted it.

No one was directing at Karish the poisonous glares I was receiving from some of my former classmates.

Idiot. For all his flaws, Karish was reputed to be an excellent Source. I could have done far worse. Just because he wasn't the one I wanted didn't mean we couldn't work well together. And being Chosen by him was better than not being Chosen at all. Really, it was.

Really.

The spectators had left their seats and were making their way into the Circle. I could see my family heading toward me. My parents, my older sister, my two younger brothers. They looked happy and proud. That helped me relax a little.

Mother hugged me first, a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “We're so proud of you, honey,” she whispered fiercely. Though, really, there was nothing to be proud of. It wasn't as though I had actually accomplished anything, or won something through merit. Getting Chosen was merely the luck of the draw.

Father cupped my face with a long hand and kissed me lightly. “Good work, little one,” he said gruffly.

Big sister Kaaren and little brothers Dias and Mika, both of whom towered over me, crushed me in a series of embraces. Mika was the only one who had something to say about my Source. “Lucky girl,” he muttered, running an admiring gaze over Karish's form.

I ruffled his hair because I knew he hated it.

There were introductions to make. “Lord Shintaro Karish, I would like to present my parents, Trader William Mallorough and Holder Teshia Mallorough, my sister Holder Kaaren Mallorough, my brothers Dias and Mika Mallorough.”

With each name, he bowed slightly, and then looked the person right in the eye, a heavy, intense gaze accompanied by a melting smile. If I didn't know better, I would say he was silently flirting with each and every member of my family. Including my father.

My father cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You're the Duke of Westsea's brother, aren't you?”

“Aye,” Lord Karish said smoothly enough, but his smile suddenly seemed fixed.

My father glanced about the crowd. “Where is he?”

“Taking the tip off the blade, I imagine.”

I almost sighed. Sources were known for expressing themselves oddly; it was something to do with the way their minds worked. I'd harbored the secret hope that my Source would be an exception.

Karish gave me a smile that put me on immediate alert. “Shall we head on over to the Horse's Head?” he asked.

Oh, lord. That was right. Tradition declared the newly bonded Pairs were to celebrate at that ancient drinking establishment and trade life stories. It was something everyone looked forward to practically from the moment they understood what drinking themselves senseless meant.
I
had been looking forward to it. It not only meant that one had been Chosen, it was also the first time Shields and Sources were allowed to be out of their academies without official supervision. It was the big send-off before leaving the only home most of us really remembered and heading out into the real world. It was the one time we could act like idiots without anyone thinking less of us. It was a thousand little signals and symbols rolled into one major event, and I had fully planned on enjoying it.

But not with Karish.

I'd been hearing about Karish for years. I'd gossiped about him just as much as everyone else, admiring the stunts that obviously required a lot of skill and snickering at the high jinks that just as obviously required as much moxie and no discretion at all. Like everyone else, I'd known where he'd come from and who his family was. But I'd never felt anything about him, any more than I felt anything about a character in a story. He was just a piece of local color that had nothing to do with my life. Even once I understood he'd be one of the Sources at my Match, I'd only felt pity for the person who would be bonded to him. He could have nothing to do with me. And so I'd felt nothing about him.

Only now he had everything to do with me. I had to work with him every single day of my life. I had to go where he was sent, explain his behavior to offended regulars, try to convey important information to him. His reputation would shape mine. His conduct would determine where I lived and for how long. And every time he channeled I would have to listen to his blood and calm his heart and crawl inside his brain.

I pulled in a deep breath. I was a Shield. This was my task. That it was so incredibly disappointing—well, there was no point in whining about it. Might as well begin as I meant to go on and get used to him as soon as possible.

I cocked my head to one side and said in assent, “Of course.” I turned back to my family.

Mother sighed. “I'd hoped we'd have a bit more time,” she murmured, embracing me. “Be careful out there. The real world is different from the academy.”

I imagined so. I hoped so. I'd enjoyed the academy, of course, but the number of rules had been stifling. “Aye, Mother.” I exchanged quick hugs with the others, wishing, too, that we would have had time for a proper conversation. It had been expected, however.

When I turned back to Karish, he held out an arm to me, obviously expecting me to take it.

Chivalry. No doubt another remnant of his aristocratic background. I was a Shield with a serious task to perform, not a sickly maiden. What need had I for chivalry?

I'd deal with it. I had to. He was my Source, and I was stuck with him and his quirks for the rest of my life. If he took his work seriously—and according to his reputation he did—then I could ignore the rest.

I took his arm.

And felt the muscles along the back of my neck and shoulders ease and loosen.

Ah, hell.

Chapter Two

It was only as we were leaving the Matching Circle that I was able to see what the building itself looked like, as upon our arrival we had been driven up in covered carriages and bundled directly into the entrance.

Small. Just large enough, I guessed, for the Circle itself and the antechambers we had been waiting in. Made of black wood and only the one story high, with no windows, and the Triple S emblem over the entrance. Rather a grim looking place.

The carriages that had brought us to the Matching Circle were needed to take the unbonded participants back to the academies. The rest of us were walking, and that, in itself, was a new experience for me. It was the first time I had put foot to ground outside of the academy in nearly seventeen years.

I was ashamed to discover my difficulty in resisting the distraction of all the people—all the regulars—swarming about on the evening streets. The rattling carriages. Dogs and cats darting about. Sights I had read about but had never seen. It felt noisy and crowded. I slipped my hand from Karish's arm, trying to stay focused in all the confusion.

I didn't know where the Horse's Head was, but the Sources seemed to. Sources were kept in their academy for far fewer years than Shields and spent the remainder of their training out in the world under the strict supervision of training Pairs. Karish would have never been permitted to walk through streets in this way, for fear of a spontaneous bonding, but he may have seen streets from a distance, and thus had been able to understand better any directions that were given to him.