The Lone Warrior (59 page)

Though his face retained its usual calm, the joy of that knowledge coursed through him, deep and steady. Beyond that—she frowned—it was difficult to tell, but he definitely wasn’t as settled in his mind as she’d expected.

As chairs scraped back and people rose, Mehcredi sighed.
Sister give me strength
. Amid the general exodus to the taproom, she touched Walker’s arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Dark brows drew together. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.” Mehcredi raised her chin. “Your room in fifteen minutes?” Any longer and she’d lose her nerve.

He gave a curt nod. “Very well.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets to control the trembling, she excused herself and climbed the stairs. Halfway up, she passed Amae on the way down. The other woman stopped and cocked her head. “You are Mehcredi, yes?”

“Yes. Congratulations. About the baby, I mean.”

Walker’s sister smiled. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It is truly wonderful.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell. Mehcredi shifted uneasily under that penetrating gaze.
Say something,
she thought.
Anything
. “Uh, your accent isn’t like his. Walker’s.”

Amae gave a fluid shrug. “I lived in Trinitaria from the age of fifteen.”

“You were a dancer, weren’t you?”

A flash of pain crossed the other woman’s face. Mehcredi cursed her stupid tongue. “Gods, sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t—”

“I was a slave,” said Amae flatly.

“I was an assassin.” Mehcredi squeezed her eyes shut. Godsdammit, would she never learn?

“
Really?
” Amae’s face lit with interest. An assessing look raked Mehcredi from top to toe. “Hmm. We should talk, you and I. Spar, perhaps.”

“Can’t. I’m leaving tomorrow,” said Mehcredi, unable to prevent the misery from leaking out.

“Pity.” Amae studied her face. “If you’ve come to say good-bye, his room is last on the right.”

Mehcredi swallowed. “Thank you.”

Ducking her head, she moved on, but the other woman took her arm in a gentle grip. “I don’t know what’s between you and Welderyn, but you are important to my brother. You could even be good for him.”

Amae dropped her hand and stepped back. “ ’Cestors keep you, assassin,” she said formally. “Know that you are always welcome in my house.”

Mehcredi had to swallow again. “Thank you. That, ah, that means a lot.”

“Mehcredi?”

She turned on the landing. “Yes?”

Amae shot her an impish grin, an expression that had nothing of Walker in it. “He was always deep, even when we were children. Don’t give up.”

Their eyes met. “I won’t,” said Mehcredi gravely. “I promise.”

Walker’s door was unlocked, so she let herself in and lit a fire. The first flames were racing over the kindling when the door swung silently open. She hadn’t heard a thing.

She rose, dusting her hands. “You must teach me to walk like a Shar.”

“No.”

Long legs braced, the swordmaster stood motionless, studying her, his dark eyes fathomless, unknowable. Mehcredi watched the strong tanned fingers of one hand furl into a fist, then relax. He was so armored, so formidable—heart and soul, mind and body. The complete warrior.

Her throat dry, she searched for the comforting glow she’d felt on the way back from the farm, the knowledge that what she did was
right
. When it didn’t come, she plowed on anyway, her heart knocking against her ribs.

“I came to say—” When she stopped to wet her lips, his gaze fastened on her mouth and something clenched hard inside him, she
felt
it. Gods, yes! Encouraged, she forced the words out. “I came to say g-good-bye.”

Immediately, he pinned her with a glare. “No, you’re going back to Caracole with us. Noblelady Izanami wants a live-in bodyguard for her daughters. I’ll recommend you.”

Mehcredi shook her head, hope fluttering to life in her breast. “John Lammas and his brothers have grain wagons leaving for Ged tomorrow. It’s all arranged.” She managed a smile. “He’ll even pay me.”

“Is that what you want?” Walker stalked over to the bed, seized his pack and reefed it open. “Here.” With a contemptuous flick of the wrist, he tossed her a small leather bag.

Mehcredi snagged it out of the air before it landed in the fire. “What—?” When she hefted it in her hand, it clinked. “Godsdammit!” Revolted, she flung it away from her. “What do you think I am?” Breathing hard, she gave him her back.

“Mehcredi.” A long pause. A featherlight touch on her hair. “I’m sorry. This is the rest of Meck’s money, earned fair and square.” Firm hands grasped her shoulders and turned her around. Walker’s smile was wry. “Did it never dawn on you to wonder what happened to your wages?”

“N-no.”

“Of course not.” He pressed the bag into her hands. “It’s yours. Take it.”

He stepped back, removing the warmth of his body, the scent, the presence, that was his alone, leaving her bereft. “You see?” he said. “You don’t need to go to Ged. Another couple of days and we’ll leave for Caracole. Home.”

She lifted her gaze. “What about Amae?”

When he smiled, it reached his eyes. “She and Rhio are following, once they arrange for someone to take over the tavern. Just for a few weeks, then they’ll return to Holdercroft. Amae wants the local midwife to deliver the baby. Their future is here.” His eyes had softened to that rare rich shade like chocolat. “I’ll be back for the birth though, to sing the baby’s Song with my sister.”

“That sounds . . . nice.”

Mehcredi gathered her courage, leaving a horrible greasy space where her stomach used to be. It would have been easier to fling herself headlong from the high-pitched roof or face a hundred djinns. This was her life she gambled, her love—her everything.

“I’m still going to Ged.”

“Listen, Mehcredi—”

“No!
You
listen!” She poked him in the chest for emphasis, then wheeled about to take a couple of hasty strides. “You can’t have it both ways, Walker. Am I in your life or out of it?”

He pressed his lips together, color flushing up under the bronze of his cheeks.

Mehcredi let the silence stretch. The fire crackled and popped in the grate. “That’s what I thought,” she said at last. “I can’t go on like this. It hurts too much . . . Every time I turn around, you’re right there and I . . .”

She had the sensation the walls were closing in, the small cozy chamber fogged with grief and yearning. Hers? His? She couldn’t untangle the knot.

Roughly, she cleared her throat. “I don’t know a pretty way to put it.” Squaring her shoulders, she looked him full in the face. “You lied to me.”

Walker’s features went stiff with offense. “Indeed? When?”

“You said you didn’t want me.”

She waited, but he didn’t speak. “But you do. With the soul-link, even I can tell that.”

He shrugged. “I’m only a man, Mehcredi. You’re so very willing and really quite lovely.” He favored her with a wolfish smile. “Enthusiastic.”

She swallowed the hurt. “You doubt me. You think I don’t know my own mind.”

His expression softened very slightly. “I don’t see how you can, not yet.”

“Exactly.
Not yet
. So I’m going to fix that, once and for all.” She put her hands on her hips. “Walker—
Welderyn
—I don’t worship you. I don’t think you’re perfect.” She gave a vulgar snort. “Godsdammit, you’re not even close. But I . . .” For a moment, she faltered. “I need you like I need air to breathe. I can’t explain it, I have no idea why, but—”

“I do. It’s because—”

“No, you do
not
!” Mehcredi made a chopping motion with one hand. “You didn’t make me, Walker. How dare you say you did?” The anger helped, she realized. It gave her strength, pushed her past her own boundaries. Gratefully, she gathered it around her like armor, used it to shore up her resolve.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. “I didn’t mean it quite the way it sounded, but you can’t deny—”

“Yes, yes, I know. You taught me everything. So fucking what?” The growl that rumbled in her throat startled her. A wild tygre could have done no better. “I’m leaving though, just the way you want, you stupid bastard.”

“Stop that.” Walker grabbed her hands in a punishing grip. Oh. She’d been thumping his chest for emphasis.

“Let’s see how we do, shall we?” she panted. “Because I’ll be back.” She rose on her toes to thrust her face into his. “I want your promise you won’t run.”

His eyes opened wide with shock and offense. “
Run?
”

The expression lasted for no more than a split second, but Mehcredi hugged it to herself with glee.
Got you!

“You think I’m a coward?” he snarled.

“I don’t know.” A smile ghosted over her lips. “Are you? Swear on your Ancestors that you’ll face me.”

“No problem.” He spoke a sentence in Shar, one that included her name.

“Translation?”

“I swear, on the bones of my Ancestors and on my Song, I will meet with Mehcredi of Lonefell when she returns.” An aching pause. “If she returns.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Who knows what you will learn, who you will meet? There are men out there with clean hands and good hearts, just don’t . . . don’t take the first one who offers.”

“I mean what I say. I will always mean it.” Mehcredi stared, drinking him in, imprinting the proud features on her memory—the slashing cheekbones and imperious nose, the enigmatic long-lidded eyes. Those impossible lashes. As for his mouth—No, it wasn’t possible for her to look at those firm lips without aching. Or his beautiful strong hands, or the set of his shoulders, or . . . or . . .

Not a single keepsake—beyond the alien stone he’d left inside her. She should have snipped a lock of his hair while he was sleeping. Mehcredi bit the inside of her cheek. Gods, she’d gone beyond besotted to mawkish.

Enough. Another second and she’d crumble.

Reaching behind her, she gripped the doorknob with trembling fingers and eased the door open. “Until next time,” she said, tilting her chin and looking him steadily in the eye.

Then she ruined it. “Take c-care.”

“Wait. I want—” His voice cracked. Before she could move, he’d swooped, pulled her back into the room and cradled her face between his palms. “No,
you
take care. Men can be—Don’t believe everything—Oh, gods.”

Walker hauled her up and took her mouth like a conqueror, angling her head for the best fit, exploring every recess of her mouth as if memorizing the heat, the wet, the texture. The soul-link burgeoned and the kiss exploded into a fiery darkness so intense it hurt. Mehcredi clung, moaning. She no longer knew where she began and he ended, she no longer cared.

Walker growled something and ripped his mouth away from hers. The world spun. The next moment, she was standing, shaking in the passageway, panting, her fingers pressed to her lips. The door still vibrated in her face, the slam echoing in the dark building.

After an eon, Mehcredi regained her breath. Slowly, trailing her fingertips along the wall, she stumbled back to the chamber she shared with Rose. Thankfully, there was no sign of the other woman save for a gown thrown across one of beds and her elusive perfume.

Zem and Topher Lammas would be bringing their wagons through Holdercroft in the hour before dawn. She might as well get ready now. There’d be little enough sleep as it was. The distress was so pervasive, so overwhelming, it was like a living thing gnawing at her vitals. She could no longer distinguish between Walker’s feelings and her own. It was all awful. Moving like an old woman, she pulled off her shirt. By the Sister, she was fighting for her life, all over again. For her own sanity, she had to believe she was doing right. Gods, what if—? No, she refused to think it.

Tomorrow she’d be all day in the saddle. Might as well be comfortable. Mehcredi reached for the breastband, her lips curving with bittersweet memories. Glancing down as she shrugged into it, she froze.

What the—?

She angled her body toward the lamp, squinting. The merest whisper of a shadow showed beneath the pearly skin of her left breast.

Her lungs seized. The Mark. Barely there, so faint she had to peer in order to make it out. Wonderingly, she traced the swirling pattern with the tip of her finger and her nipple stiffened with a rush. Clutching the breastband, she sank back onto the bed, her head spinning.

She’d wanted a keepsake, hadn’t she? A talisman she could look at every day.

A shaky smile bloomed on her lips.

When Rose came in a few hours later, Mehcredi was lying under the covers fully dressed, pretending to be asleep. It was still fully dark when she heard the distant creak of wheels, the jingle of tack. Shivering in the raw air, she threw the blankets back and crept to the door, pack in hand.