Veil of Shadows (19 page)

He was hesitant to say it, very much so. Syn’s magic was part of who she was. Like his skill with a blade. He loved the feel of a blade in his hands, loved crafting one, giving it life.

But the words had to be said. He had to understand—if he didn’t understand, it would fester between them.

He slid his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head. “If the energy has become so dangerous, it can’t be used, wouldn’t it be best to just leave it alone? You are a warrior, Syn, with or without your magic.”

“Yes, I’m a warrior.” She turned her head away and stared at the wall. “But I’m also a witch—it’s every bit as much a part of me as being a warrior. And not being able to use it is crippling me. I feel it . . . like there’s a part inside me that is fading away and dying, bit by bit. A part of
me
is dying. I’m not meant to be like this, Xan. None of the witches are, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to us if we keep trying to suppress it like this.”

She ran her hands up and down her arms, then crossed them over her chest. He wrapped an arm around her, easing her close. “You’re cold.”

She rested her head on his chest and murmured, “Not so much. When you’re touching me it isn’t bad.” She snuggled close and slid her arms around his waist.

“What isn’t bad? Being cold?”

“Hmmmm. When you touch me, I don’t feel the cold.”

The cold . . . He frowned, thinking back. He almost always saw her standing in one way—when she stood still, it was with her legs spread wide and her arms crossed over her chest. It was a somewhat arrogant, defensive stance, sometimes. But now something occurred to him. “You feel cold a lot.”

“Almost always.” She sighed.

“Is it the magic?”

“Yes. It wants out, Xan. It needs out. Keeping it trapped inside is terrible,” she whispered.

“And that’s why you did this thing with Lee and Elina.”

“That’s why. The magic is kind of like a conduit. It connects me to the earth and lets me draw the earth’s energy in.” She shifted around on his lap and reached for his arm. She held his hand in one of hers, with the palm turned up. “Picture a lake, right here. Your hand is the earth, and cupped inside your hand is the energy. Like a lake, deep, still and peaceful.”

She laced her fingers with his and looked up at him. “In a lake, it’s easy to drop an anchor—to secure yourself.”

“But now the energy is like a raging river, sweeping everything along as it goes. When the waters are rough, even the stronger watercrafts have a harder time staying anchored, although they can usually manage it.”

Eyes narrowed, he said, “So basically, the energy is trying to suck you in . . . because you’re not strong enough?”

“I’m not an overly powerful witch, Xan. I’ve mastered what I can do, but I’ll never be as strong as Elina or Lee. I just won’t. Right now, if I try to make that connection, to anchor myself, I get swept away.”

“I do not want to think of that. Give me a few moments before we go down that path, if you would.” He grimaced and shook his head.

She smiled and traced a pattern on his chest. “I don’t really want to think of it, either. But we have to think about finding a solution. That’s why we did it, Xan. It’s not just because we’re mad over not using our magic. We
need
to use it, but the lesser witches, if they tried to use it now, it could kill us and others.”

A choice between dying inside or dying in reality, and possibly causing the deaths of others—neither option held much appeal.

“What exactly were you trying to accomplish?”

She peered up at him, cocking her head. “Do you really want to know? Or are you just humoring me?”

“If I didn’t want to know, I would not ask. Help me understand. Please.”

“We want to make a net—to forge links between the witches. All of us. We’d be our own anchor, and for those who aren’t as strong, the net would act to help stabilize us.” She licked her lips and shrugged. “It
could
work. I didn’t study magical theory as in depth as Elina has, but it could work.”

Then she grimaced and added, “It
was
working—I felt it. Then we ended up having our little party broken up and Elina took a blow to the head because Lo was too quick to jump to conclusions.”

“So that is how she ended up wounded.”

“Yeah.” Syn sighed glumly. “It was working, Xan. We could make this work . . . I could have my magic back; we’d be able to provide those magical defenses once more. But the commander has a stick up his ass over this.”

“He has a hard road to walk,” Xan said, his voice soft. “He wants what is best for his followers, including those with magic. But he must keep his people safe, as well. It isn’t an easy choice.”

“I know that.” She had a disgusted look on her face. “But we’ve tried explaining, and he won’t even listen. He has a blind spot about this, because of Lee.”

Xan crooked a grin at her. “I can understand that blind spot, Syn. A leader needs to look after the interests of all his people, but a man’s gut insists he protect his woman, first and foremost. He is trying to do both, and it cannot be easy for him.”

“I know it’s not easy for him. But he’s
not
protecting her—Lee, even more than Elina and I, is being hurt by this. And he doesn’t even realize just how much it is hurting her. I don’t think Lee even understands.” Syn sighed and stroked a hand down his chest, running the tip of her finger over a long, thin ridge of scar tissue that bisected his right pectoral.

Xan covered her hand with his and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How is it hurting her more than you? More than Elina?”

“It’s complicated.” She stroked her fingers across his lower lip, along the firm line of his jaw. Reaching the narrow strap that held his eye patch in place, she stroked it. “Will you tell me how this happened?”

“A knife.”

Syn rested her fingers on the black shield that covered his damaged eye and asked, “So I guess you’re completely blind in the eye?”

“The eye is no longer there. Infection settled in. It was either lose the eye or risk dying.”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned his head and nuzzled her hand. “There is nothing to be sorry for. It happened a long time ago. I’ve lived longer without the eye than I lived with it. I adjusted.”

“How old were you?” Syn frowned, studying his face. He might be a few years older than her, but not that much, she didn’t think.

“Ten.”

Her jaw dropped.
“Ten?”
she demanded. Shock recoiled through her and she sat upright, staring down at him with horror.

“Yes.”

“Exactly how does a ten-year-old get hurt that badly with a knife?” But even as she voiced the question, she realized she could imagine just how. “Well, maybe that’s not a good question. Kids very often run around carrying things they shouldn’t.”

Xan’s mouth twitched in a smile. “It happened during a training session.”

“Training session.” Syn narrowed her eyes as something cold and hard settled inside her belly. “You were
ten
. You shouldn’t have been
training
with knives.”

He sat up and settled behind her, drawing her stiff body against his. He stroked a soothing hand up and down her thigh as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “And how old were you when you started serving in this army, Syn? You were orphaned at age ten . . . What did you do after you lost your mother?”

“I sure as hell didn’t start training with knives.” Tears stung her eyes, and she turned her head, pressing her lips to his cheek. Under her mouth, she felt one of the narrow lines of his scarred face. Shifting around on his lap, she slipped her fingers under the strap, slowly. She waited for him to pull away, but he sat there passively as she eased the patch away.

The scarring was much neater than she’d expected; most of it was one long, thin line that bisected his eye, starting at the outer edge of his eyebrow down to the bridge of his nose. The lid to his eye was closed, permanently—and unless she was mistaken, they’d stitched it.

“They stitched it closed,” she murmured. She could just barely make out the faint lines where the stitches had been placed. “Did they actually use old-fashioned stitches? Why not las-sutures?”

His lips twitched, that small smile she saw from him so rarely. “I was but a child when it happened, Syn. I barely remember anything other than the injury itself. It became infected, and there was a fever. After the fever came on me, I don’t remember much of anything until I woke up one day and the eye was gone.”

She scowled. For all its surgical neatness, it seemed borderline barbaric. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his eye, running her mouth along the scars and then easing the patch back into place. “Why do you wear the patch? The scarring is actually rather minimal.”

“Yes. I’ve just always worn it. A child tends to shy away from any unusual attention—I guess it just became habit.” He ran a finger along the narrow, raised ridge still visible around the patch and shrugged. “People stare, with or without the patch. But the patch makes them more comfortable than the actual scarring would.”

“And you’re really all that concerned about people being comfortable?” Syn asked, smirking.

“I couldn’t care less if people are comfortable.” He flashed her a grin—a real smile, there and then gone. Reaching up, he tapped her nose and added, “But I prefer not to be bothered when the insanely curious see the scars and ask what happened.”

She arched a brow. “Am I being insanely curious?” “Perhaps.” He reached up and curled a hand over the back of her neck, drawing her in for a kiss. “But you may ask me anything.”

There was a hard, perfunctory knock at the door. Syn grimaced and kicked her legs out of the bed. Grabbing a tunic from the foot of the bed, she tugged it on and crossed to the door. She peeked through the small viewing hole and then shot Xan a disgruntled look. He remained silent as she spoke through the door. “Yes, Commander?”

“Get your ass out here and in my quarters. You have ten minutes.” There were a few seconds of silence and then he added, “And bring Xan with you—it will save me the trouble of pretending to look for him when I already know where he is.”

Syn made a face at the door and listened to the faint sound of his footfalls as he walked away. Then she turned and met Xan’s gaze. “He may decide to tear into you for being here. He’s still pissed off at me . . . You might end up catching some of it now.”

Xan shrugged. “I can handle it. I heard the order go out and I chose to ignore it.” He stood from the bed and grabbed his clothes. “Although I don’t have time to go to my dormer and grab anything but the clothes I wore yesterday.”

“Not an issue. If we’re lucky, all he’ll do is assign us to latrine duty for the next few days, and trust me, you don’t want to mess with clean clothes on that job rotation.”

Xan’s face twisted with disgust. “I’ll take your word on it.”

“You’re probably going to end up in trouble.” Syn sighed and flicked her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry.”

He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Do not be. There is nowhere else I would rather be, I promise you.”

Syn felt the blood rush to her cheeks and her heart fluttered. Forcing a smile, she said, “Let’s hope you don’t regret those words.”

They weren’t alone in Kalen’s quarters.

Elina and Lee were also there. Elina sat on one of the narrow, hard-backed seats. She must still feel lousy—Syn had seen the goose egg covered by her hair. There was no way the woman couldn’t have a massive headache.

But she looked serene—completely undisturbed. It came from years of practice and Syn had already put on her mask as well. She’d be damned if she let anybody see how tangled she felt inside. Never show weakness—it was a lesson she’d learned early in life, and one she adhered to.

Lee hadn’t quite perfected the art of hiding her every emotion. She stood there, leaning against a wall and looking miserably unhappy. She was pale, dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth was a tight, narrow line. She glanced at Xan and then at Syn. “If he’s here for moral support, I gotta say, I’m impressed, Syn. I love you, but there ain’t no way I’d be here if I didn’t have to be.”

Xan stroked a hand down Syn’s shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she could see him smile. “He’s here at the commander’s orders,” Syn said, shrugging.

Lee cocked a brow and studied Xan curiously. “Oh?”

“Apparently breaking orders is contagious,” he said. “After word went out that you three had been confined to quarters, I ignored it and went to see Syn.”

“Moral support?”

“Hardly.” Syn snorted and glared at Xan. “He came to yell at me. I’m getting very tired of males yelling at me over this when they can’t really even understand what it’s like for us.” She softened the words with a light brush of her fingertips down his cheek.

He caught her hand and kissed it.