But the women . . . they remained forever under the threat of being taken and force-bred by men, compelled by more than enough magic to enforce their attackers’ will and whims. Alonnen gave Rexei a sympathetic look.
“I am sorry that it happened, Longshanks. I wish we’d found a way to break and banish Mekha long, long ago . . . but not even the strongest mage can change the past. We can only move on,” he said.
She sniffed and glared off to the side, then gave a tiny, huddled shrug. “’S okay,” she muttered. “He’s gone now. No one else will . . . U-Unless the priests really do start . . . summoning demons to regain . . .”
This was entirely too depressing a line of thought. Alonnen stepped forward, slipped his arm gently around her shoulders—steadfastly ignored the way she flinched—and guided the lanky young woman toward the refreshing room.
“Enough of that for now,” he ordered gently. “Those kind of thoughts right before bed are enough to give anyone nightmares, and we’ll both need a good night’s sleep to be fresh minded and ready to tackle all the other problems at hand. Now get in there, wash your face, get yourself changed into your nightshirt, and get ready for bed. You can even borrow my tooth-scrubber if you like. I use a spearmint paste mixed up at one of the apothecary shops in Heiastowne—you know the one, on the corner of Bladesmith and Seventh Lane? It’s the best apothecary in town, in my opinion.”
She nodded, and he patted her on her good shoulder.
“Excellent. There’s also a bottle of pain drops in there from the same shop, extract of willow, clearly labeled. Take four drops for your shoulder now if you want, or in the morning if it’s still bothering you. But if you take it now, use the scrubbing paste after. I find it helps kill the bitter taste. And don’t worry when you come back out. Just think of me as a brother. Did you have any brothers?” he asked her as she slowed a little. “Or any sisters? Or were you an only child?”
“Two brothers. Older. A lot older.” Her shoulders hunched inward. “They . . . they and our father were out of the house w-when . . .”
He swatted her on the shoulder blade, making her blink and look at him in shock. “Oy! What did I say, Apprentice? Stop thinking about the awful bits in life all the time. Start thinking about happy things, and about scrubbing your teeth, and worrying about nothing worse than whether or not I’ll snore. I’m told if I sleep just right—on my stomach, not on my back—I don’t actually, so that’s how I try to sleep at night. You know, I should set you an assignment to see if I really don’t snore on my belly, that’s what. Go on, wash up,” he ordered her, giving her a little push. “Don’t take too long. And don’t try to hurt me in my sleep, or I swear I’ll roll onto my back and keep you awake all night by snoring.”
A soft sound escaped her. Alonnen wasn’t sure if it qualified as a snort or as a laugh. He took it for what it was worth—something other than fear or distrust—and nudged her the last inch or so into the refreshing room. When she was fully inside, he closed the door between them, and quietly rested his forehead on the panel.
Her mum raped and taken by the priests; family scattered who knows where or what happened to them; she’s afraid of men, afraid of priests, afraid of me . . . Gods, I need him—her—to trust me, and You dump this in my lap?
Praying to all the Gods and Goddesses of the world wouldn’t get him very far, though. Not even if They were gathered right now at the resumption of the old Convocations. That was on an island somewhere on the other side of the Sun’s Belt, where it was summer instead of winter and where the people hadn’t ever had to deal with the murderous hunger of their so-called Patron.
Maybe I should look into this Guildra person he . . . she mentioned. Gods . . . she certainly can pass for a young lad when she tries. Actors Guild, journeyman rank. Yeah, I can see how she earned that one, with who knows how many years of pretending to be a boy under her belt. Pushing away from the door, he crossed to the bed, rapped the control rune for the small crystal mounted on the headboard, then turned off the ceiling-embedded suncrystals. Retreating back to the bed, he picked up the book he had left there the previous night, selected the far side, and climbed under the covers.
It took her several minutes to emerge. When she finally did, he tried his best to ignore how the light from the refreshing room crystals backlit her figure. She looked around the room, then headed warily for the bed. Alonnen did his best to ignore her, save that she just stood there for a long while. Giving up, he sighed and tucked a ribbon between the pages to mark his place.
Instead of putting the book on the nightstand, though, he held it out to her. “Here. It’s a book of tales about Painted Warriors. Don’t budge my ribbon, please, but you can read as much of it as you like. The runes for the reading light are on the bedposts, there and there,” he added, gesturing over either shoulder. “And don’t hit me with it if I snore; that’d be too cruel to the book. Goodnight, Longshanks, and sleep well when you get there.”
With that, he twisted over, tucked one arm under the small mound of pillows, squirmed to get comfortable, and closed his eyes with a sigh. Several more seconds passed, then he felt her tentatively drawing back the covers. Determined to go to sleep, he focused on first tensing, then relaxing each muscle group. The only way to get her past her understandable fear of men was to be as matter-of-fact as possible. When she finally climbed onto the bed and slowly started turning the pages of the book, he relaxed further, until sleep finally claimed him.
• • •
Rexei woke abruptly. Her neck and shoulders ached, and there was a bruise on the side of her breast. It came from the corner of a book, she realized. Blinking, she tried to make sense of where she was. The bedding was far too soft and warm to be her bolt-hole in Heiastowne. The dove gray coverlet topping the layers keeping her toasty and comfortable was vaguely familiar for a moment, then it all came back in a rush: the temple, the mages, the dissolution of Mekha, the freeing of the prisoners, her uncomfortable interrogation by the Precinct leftenant, and the innermost depths of the Vortex.
And Alonnen. Her first post-awake memory of him was the full-on view of his unclothed frontside . . . and the feeling that had lain beneath her shocked fear at the sight of her host’s naked male body. Beneath the panic . . . beneath it, lay that same strange spurt of excitement from the first time he had grinned at her. Heart beating erratically, Rexei lifted her head to look at the other side of the bed.
The only sign he had been there at all was the divot in the feather-stuffed mattress and the rumpled lay of the covers, which he had apparently dragged more or less back into place while she slept. She was still clad in his nightshirt and her underdrawers, her chest wrappings were somewhere in the refreshing room, and aside from the awkward, curled-over angle at which she had slept and the book she had slept on, she felt just fine. Unviolated. Not that he’d . . . or that she’d . . .
Blushing, she admitted to herself that there had been more reasons than the fact she’d been tired to have impelled her into crawling into this bed. She was wary of men—rightfully so, given the things she had heard and seen—but Rexei knew that not all men were horrible, brutal creatures who abused authority and were driven by uncaring lusts. In fact, there were plenty of men who were good souls, kind and considerate, polite and proper.