Shrouded Sky (The Veils of Lore Book 1) (20 page)

Orryn thrashed beneath the blanket.

“It’s all right,” Chandra said. “It’s just a bad dream.” She sat down beside him and stroked his hair. She had to soothe him, get him to listen. She studied his face, trying to determine if her touch was having any effect, but the only effect it seemed to be having was on her. He looked so handsome, she thought, like a male Sleeping Beauty, with his perfect features and long blond hair. Would a kiss awaken him? She laughed to herself. If only it were so simple.

Then again . . .

Chandra leaned toward Orryn slowly, hesitantly. Was she really about to do this? Yes she was. She closed her eyes and touched her lips to his.

Orryn jerked away as if repulsed, and Chandra straightened, embarrassed and a little insulted. But what did she expect? Since she’d first met Orryn, she’d seen few emotions in him, other than anger, frustration, and perhaps a hint of jealousy. True, he’d expressed something bordering on desire at the springs, but he’d quickly reined it in, once again resorting to temper. She’d never seen pity or love or anything resembling compassion in him, though it occurred to her his demeanor had changed somewhat when he’d first brought her here. He’d held her hand then and introduced her to his family, and he’d shown affection for them and maybe even a little for her. But was it really affection in her regard? Based on what she’d learned thus far about Pedants, she was sure Orryn had never felt the touch of a woman, at least not in a sexual way. That would have been the greatest form of betrayal to the Sovereign Lady. And the Sovereign did not seem the type to forgive.

It occurred to Chandra that if Orryn, the real Orryn, was to win this battle, he would have to break his vows. Emotion was the answer, but how to draw it out of him? Anger wasn’t enough. It had to be more, much more.

She ran her eyes down his throat toward his chest. If a kiss wouldn’t bring him to his senses, perhaps fear would. She recalled how in the story she’d read, the Priestess, a character not unlike the Sovereign Lady, had run her finger along her victim’s throat, stopping only when her palm was planted against their chest. It was then that she devoured their soul and took over their body. Was the Sovereign capable of doing the same thing? If so, would Orryn recognize the danger of a hand pressed against his heart?

Chandra drew the blanket aside, then untied the laces of his tunic and pushed back the material. His skin was flushed, his chest rising and falling sporadically, but it wasn’t because he knew she was there, or even that she was about to touch him. It was because he was fighting for his life. She splayed her hand on his chest, the muscles beneath it constricting as they worked to drag air in and out of his lungs. But he did not wince or moan or move in any other way. Clearly the gesture did not conjure any sense of fear in him, nor any sense of pleasure. But what if she touched him more forcefully? Would he react to her then?

Chandra lifted her hand, thinking pain might do the trick, but as she gazed upon his flawless face, the momentum of her plan lost steam. He really did look rather helpless, lying there unaware. It must have been like that for her when she was sprawled unconscious on the beach—with her shirt lifted to her neck and Orryn’s hand up her leg. She swung her hand and slapped him hard.

Orryn bolted into the upright position, knocking Chandra to the floor. She staggered to her feet, rubbing her now aching backside, which would have been worth it if it had made Orryn more aware of his surroundings. Unfortunately his awareness was still an internal one. He may have been sitting up, but that was about it.

Chandra gathered her skirt and climbed onto the bed. She grabbed his face in her hands. “Orryn,” she said sternly. “It’s me. Chandra.”

Orryn tried to pull away, but she held fast, the way she had seen the Sovereign Lady do. He made a noise that sounded like a whimper, then grabbed her wrists, gripping them so hard she thought her bones might snap.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You have to wake up.”

He blinked, as if he’d heard her, then spat an incoherent threat, though she couldn’t be sure it was aimed at her.

“Orryn!” she said more insistently. “The Sovereign has put you under some kind of spell. You have to fight your way out of it!”

He shoved her away.

Chandra regained her balance. “That bitch really has you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?” she said.

Orryn’s face contorted with rage, and as it did, a strategy formed in Chandra’s mind. She leaned toward him.

“Who are you panting for, Orryn?” she said. “Your Lady the
whore
? Is that it?”

Orryn screamed through his teeth and flew off the mattress. “I should skin you alive, you filthy cat!” he shouted. His eyes were staring directly at her now, glassy, like someone high on drugs. He stalked toward her.

Chandra scrambled off the bed. “Like you’re going to skin Tygg?” she said, facing him down. God, where had that come from?

Orryn stopped, and Chandra felt as though the oxygen had left the room.
Keep going, make him feel guilty, sad, anything!

“That’s right,” she said as boldly as she could. “You think I don’t know? You’re going to skin him, aren’t you! The Sovereign will make you do it because she’s angry with you. That’s why she’s torturing you. And she won’t stop there. Tygg will be next, then me!”

Orryn’s stance seemed to shift.

“I’ve heard what happens to Taubastet prisoners,” Chandra continued, trying to think of something, anything to make him think she knew what she was talking about. “Before you kill Tygg you’ll torture him. You’ll do it expertly, too. Your Lady will demand it. He’ll scream and he’ll beg, but it won’t matter. She wants his hide on her wall, and she wants it carved from him all in one piece!” Tears came to her eyes. She couldn’t help it.

Orryn shook his head. “I—I would never do that.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but the Pedant in you would!”

“Do you really believe that of me?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

Chandra walked cautiously toward him. “I don’t want to, Orryn,” she said, “but I don’t know what else
to
believe. The Lady has her claws in you and—”

“I’m a Pedant, not a slave!” he snapped.

Chandra stopped her approach. “You’re not!” she said. “You’re a puppet!”

“A
what
?”

“She’s displeased with you about something and she’s testing you. She has your two selves battling each other: the Pedant vs. the real you, fighting to see who comes out on top.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Look around you. You’re in your bedroom. Do you even remember getting here?”

Orryn glanced around, then settled his eyes on the bed. “What happened . . . there?”

“Not what you think.”

He shot his attention back to her. “If I’m at battle with myself as you say, it’s only because I’m overdue lavation. Once the Sovereign performs it, I will be as I should be.”

“That’s just it, she already performed lavation on you!”

“Impossible,” he said. “I wouldn’t have had the strength.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She did it anyway, and she worked some sort of spell on you. Don’t you feel it, the turmoil inside you? It’s not due to lack of lavation. It’s because the Sovereign is pitting you, the real you, against the Pedant she conjured.”

“Then the Pedant must win,” he said.

“No, Orryn. Don’t you see?”

“It’s
you
who do not see!”

Chandra marched toward him. “What I see is a man who’s afraid to be one. What I want to see is the man who carried me into the springs!”

Orryn was clearly taken aback, but he squared his shoulders as if to deny it. “I regret I tried to take liberties with you,” he said. “It will not happen again.”

Chandra pressed closer. “Maybe I want you to take liberties with me,” she said, and almost believed it. An unexpected longing was blossoming inside her, and it was a longing she hadn’t felt since Marc.

“You know what you ask is impossible,” Orryn said.

“Nothing’s impossible.”

Chandra slipped her hands into his open shirt, not knowing how far she wanted this to go, but knowing it had to go far enough. If Orryn could embrace his emotions, she felt certain she could get the Pedant in him to accept defeat.

She traced her fingers along his chest and toward his shoulders, expecting a reaction from him, especially a negative one, but strangely Orryn did not move to stop her. In fact, he did not move at all. He simply stood there, staring at her. Perhaps this was going to be easier than she thought.

Or more difficult.

Chandra shrugged the tunic from his shoulders, but even then he did not react. She ran her eyes over his bare torso, noting the muscles that lined it from stomach to waistband. How perfect he was, she thought. And yet, how real. The longing inside her grew, and as much as she hated it, she could not deny it.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. Was it fear that her scheme to save him would fail, that the Pedant in him would win? Or was it something more? She tilted her face to his.
Kiss me, Orryn
.

The violet of his eyes seemed to spark, like fire against amethyst, but still he only stared, his mouth too distant and his hands too still.
Why doesn’t he move?

Chandra felt aggravation rear its ugly head. Was she really so unappealing? She raised herself on tiptoes and pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his.
Kiss me back, dammit!
But Orryn did not return the gesture. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back a step. “Don’t,” he said.

Chandra’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. She felt like such a fool! How could she have been so stupid? She didn’t even like him. Oh, who was she kidding? She lifted her chin, swallowing what little pride she had left. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just thought if you could, you know, want it . . . me . . . then maybe you would realize what you’ve given up.”

“I know exactly what I’ve given up, Chandria.”

Chandra realized that his voice, though strained, sounded more like the Orryn she thought she knew. She studied his face, searching for more evidence, but all she saw was a glint of amusement, which had to be a hallucination. This was Orryn, after all.

“I cannot do what you wish me to do,” he said sternly. “Were I to it would nullify every vow I ever made as Pedant. I cannot appear to fail the Sovereign Lady, especially with your life and Tygg’s dependent on it.”

“But if you go back to being a Pedant, you won’t care about our lives,” she said, feeling very small. How could she have been worried about kisses when there was so much more at stake?

“Father won’t allow that to happen. He’s always found a way to keep my compass intact.”

“I don’t think he can help your compass this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father may have been able to keep you from revealing too much in the past, but this time something slipped through. The Sovereign hurt you on purpose, and she hurt you bad enough that your father didn’t know if he could save you. The only reason he’s not in this room right now is because I promised him I could reach you, because the Sovereign planted visions of me in your head. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to draw the real you out, and the only way I knew to do it was to get you to embrace your emotions and fight against the Pedant she’s pitted you against.”

Orryn frowned. “So your kiss, just now, was only a ruse?”

Chandra looked away.

“Regardless,” Orryn said, his annoyance rekindled, “you knew what that would have meant for me!”

“I know exactly what it would have meant!” she countered. “It would have meant you could no longer be Pedant.”

“Yet you tried to tempt me down that path? Why, Chandria?”

“Because it would have meant the Pedant would die and you would live!”

“Live? Are you suggesting that if the Pedant wins, I don’t?”

“Figuratively speaking.”

“And if I win?”

“You still might not. Non-figuratively speaking.”

“And that is better how?”

“We haven’t figured that part out yet.”

Orryn looked at her as if she were an idiot.

“Well at least we’d have a chance,” she said defensively.

“To do what?”

“To save Tygg’s life!”

“Is that what this is about? Tygg?”

“It’s about
all
of us!”

He shook his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“We have to do something, Orryn. The question is what?”

“What we must.”

“How methodical.”

He walked slowly toward her. “You said the Sovereign Lady has forced me into some kind of inner turmoil, a fight between the Pedant and the man. The truth is—” He hesitated.

“The truth is, what?” Chandra asked.

Orryn drew a deep breath. “The truth is those selves have been at odds ever since I first found you on the beach.”

“But you hate
me,” she said, convinced of it.

“I have admittedly used every excuse I know of to dislike you. It was the only way I knew to ensure my survival, and yours. Never before had I been without lavation that long. I had no idea what it would feel like.”

“So how do you feel now?”

“Like something is crawling through my veins, controlling me, or trying to. I’m well aware of what emotion is,” he said, “what it feels like, how one is expected to handle it. I was not always a Pedant. I was once a child. But after thirteen years of living without it, of living with only honor and duty, I have found emotion to be painful. It’s nothing like I remembered. How could it be? I was stripped of it when I was a boy. Now I’m a man.”

“Are you sure what you’re feeling is emotion, not something else?” Chandra asked.

“Very. Even now I can feel the Pedant clawing his way into my head, demanding that I suppress it. I’ve worked hard to be a Pedant. I cannot help but still feel loyalty to it.”

“Your parents said something about ‘all we’ve worked for’. I assume that includes you. What exactly are you working for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Orryn, with you nothing is obvious.”

He pulled up a nearby chair and gestured for her to sit on the bed, facing him.