Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 Read online

  “You’re welcome to stay at the colony if you’d like.” Harper rolled his shoulders and kept his tone light. “I have two young healers, both with potential and no real guidance.”

  I expected Aldrich to laugh in Harper’s face or throw his title around, belittling the offer.

  “You let uneducated healers near your wounded?” Aldrich clucked his tongue.

  Using the same tone as he’d used on me, Harper said, “We have limited supplies and less capital to entice a proper healer—let alone priest—onto our payroll. We’re doing what we can.”

  “I make no promises as to my tenure, but I will teach your young ones what I can.”

  My jaw would have dropped if the sun hadn’t baked my dried mouth shut.

  “Thank you.” Harper’s shoulders relaxed.

  “I will require supplies,” Aldrich said. “Is there a local healer you trust?”

  I pried my mouth open. “Yes. I have a live-in healer at the consulate.”

  “Then we must go there for supplies, fresh herbs, bandages.” He made the choice sound clear-cut, and I had trouble mounting an argument. “Otherwise, we’ll be dependent on whatever supplies you have on hand. If raiders guard the border, intent on keeping us out, then once we’re inside, they’ll become the wardens who lock us in. We must prepare for that eventuality.”

  “If that’s true, should we risk Dillon?” I asked Harper, whose lips downturned. “You’ve met Isabeau. She’s an accomplished healer. He would be as safe in her hands as anywhere. Safer, considering where we’re headed. Plus, if he takes a turn for the worse, there is a priest in town.”

  “It’s your choice.” Aldrich sounded indifferent. “The consulate lies in the city’s heart, yes? How will you reach it? You’re well-known there. If word has spread, you’ll be in danger.”

  I’d entertained similar thoughts, so I turned to Harper. Inspiration slammed into me. “There’s a safe house at the city’s edge. It’s small, but well kept. We could go there.”

  “What safe house?” Harper demanded. “Why didn’t I know about it?”

  “It’s a shelter for slaves turned informant against the legion.” Abusing it this once meant surrendering it for any future use. “That’s why you didn’t know. It was none of your business. Those slaves had sealed files and locations guarded from you, as well as their prior owners.”

  “All right.” He shot me a hard stare. “So we’ll drop Dillon off first, then—”

  “No.” I cut him off. “Aldrich’s right. It’s too dangerous for us to go into the city. It will be dangerous enough to get near the safe house.” Aldrich eyed me warily. “I think he should take Dillon to Isabeau. He can spend the night there and give my boarders time to load the sled with supplies. Then he can pick us up in the morning.” I sighed. “The rest, I guess, is left up to fate.”

  “What do you say, priest?” Harper directed the question to Aldrich.

  I got the feeling Harper liked the idea, perhaps too much. I read calculation in his eyes of the hours we’d have alone together.

  He asked, “Are you up for it?”

  Aldrich tapped his fingers on my seat. “Won’t your Isabeau be suspicious of a stranger arriving with one of your wounded?”

  “I’ll write her a note.” Then I scoffed at myself. My reflexes were so human sometimes.

  “I didn’t know you traveled with quill and ink.” Harper laughed, reading me with ease. After all, he’d scribbled on every page of my life’s book. He was still chuckling as he delivered the rest of his joke. “Is that a scroll in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

  “You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” I informed him.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve built up an immunity to my sense of humor, considering you’re about to spend a night with nothing but me for entertainment.” His eyes glinted with promise.

  Leaning back, I fumbled for one of the cactus paddle plates I’d made earlier, then I scratched a brief message into the dried husk of the once-succulent plant. “That will have to do.”

  I set it on my seat, then crawled from the sled. Aldrich left without looking back.

  “Are you ready?” Harper asked me, and I understood the question was a weighted one.

  This moment could have been a paragraph from any day of our lives. His intent to claim me hung unspoken between us. The fact my sex was dominate, that my choice would bind us, if we were ever bound, strung his heart to my whims. Once, I’d been afraid to pluck that delicate thread. Now I knew it vibrated with a perfect pitch when strummed. “Yes. I am.”

  His nostrils widened, picking up the scent of my arousal. No, desire had never lacked between us. I’d never had him, and I wanted him. He wanted me, and I would let him have me.

  But first…he owed me a talk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I moaned, pleased beyond measure. All my ailments were forgotten, but unfortunately, my stink remained. Crushed velvet smashed against my cheek, and I inhaled dusty upholstery, glad to be where I was. It turned out I was far more domesticated than I’d thought. And more than drink or food, I wanted the cushions where I collapsed the instant we entered the safe house.

  “Thirsty?” Harper’s voice scratched. He must have poured my cup first.

  “You can have it.” I yawned. I had eaten too few calories too late to keep me awake. With the queasy feeling purged from my guts, my stomach emitted a timid growl, which I stamped out.

  “You need to drink.” He brushed the hair from my eyes. “And you have to eat something. I’ve seen you crash too many times not to see this one coming. Get up, and I’ll find us food.”

  Groaning, I pushed myself upright. Lethargy tugged at my limbs and weighted my head. I was several shades past exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sink into the cushions, but he was right. If I didn’t eat, I’d be a wreck when he woke me later, assuming he could wake me.

  “I’ll help.”

  Two steps later, my elbow nudged his. He sifted through the cupboards and found packets of dried meat strips and jarred fruit. There were other things, tastier things, but neither of us had energy to cook. Besides, chewing kept me from asking the questions firing in my gut.

  I’d given him an out in Rihos, told myself his past made no difference to our present. In that moment, it hadn’t. Then days passed. Nothing resolved itself. His mouth only opened to bark orders or mutter curses. At night, he kept me warm beneath his blanket, but sleep came hard to him. Even trapped in what must be nightmares, he kept his lips sealed and his past guarded.

  His promise of a talk would save me from making a liar of myself if he honored his word.

  “What else is down here?” He passed over a cup and plate, each filled to the brim.

  “This living area, the kitchen, what passes for a bathroom and a bedroom—with bunks.”

  “Those sound confining.” He frowned toward an open doorway.

  “There’s rarely more than one person here at the time, so it’s usually a moot point.”

  “There are two of us here now,” he pointed out.

  I gathered my rations, returning to the sofa. “Then we’re fortunate there are two beds.”

  His growl followed me, raising hairs along my neck and causing my insides to quiver.

  “I was under the impression you and I…” His thought hung unfinished.

  Hiding behind my cup, I drank and grinned. “What impression were you under?”

  His lips flatlined in response as his right eye developed a rather cute tic. “We talked—”

  “Did we?” I asked in all seriousness. “I remember you promising me we would talk.” I held on to my cup so my hands stopped trembling. “Did it happen and I missed it?”

  “Emma.” He said my name on a groan. “I know I said we would talk, but…”

  Silence fell, and I sobered. Acting like this wasn’t serious, like it didn’t matter, was how we ended up here in the first place. This was my chance, maybe my only chance, and I took it.r />
  “But you lied.” I made it a statement, though its double edge cut us both.

  “I— No, I didn’t lie.” He scowled. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me.”

  “This is not about me.” Only it was, and I hated goading him.

  “How is this not about you? I buried the past. You’re the one toting a shovel.”

  “If you were more open with me, I wouldn’t have to dig for information on my own.”

  “What can your knowing possibly change?” His brow wrinkled.

  “I don’t know.” My fist clenched, collapsing the cup and slicing my hand. Blood and water dripped on my lap. “You came home. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to feel this again. It was jarring.” He caught my wrist and picked the shards from my palm before the skin healed.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re telling me you wished I hadn’t come back.”

  His shirt collar ripped. It took me a minute to realize I’d snagged it and jerked his face to my level. “Never say that again.” Stupid tears pricked my eyes. “I didn’t know. God help me, I didn’t know you were alive or I would have come for you. That’s what I want to know. How you could be alive somewhere, alone and hurting, and I didn’t know. I should have known.”

  “How could you have?” He pried my hands from his shirt. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I chose my path. The consequences were mine to face.” He poured water on his shirttail and cleansed my cuts. “You can’t keep blaming yourself.”

  “I can’t stop.” Yes, I’d said the past was past. I’d lied. The past was now. It stood at my shoulder and dug festering claws in the ragged wound where my heart beat. “I want to let go. I want forgiveness, forgetfulness.” Finally, truth poured from me. “I want…”

  He touched my cheek. “If you want my forgiveness, you have it.”

  A feral sound rumbled from my throat.

  “I don’t want your forgiveness, I want mine, and I can’t have it because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.” Once the dam broke, the words exploded from the cracks, fracturing their container until I knew every wrong thing we’d done would soon stand in this room between us.

  “I dated men. I didn’t like them. I used them like napkins to wipe away the loneliness.” I grabbed his forearms and held on for the ride. “I hated when they touched me. It was wrong and disgusting and everything you didn’t want for me. Yet I allowed them to use me. I begged them to fill me. Then I asked for another and another until I was too raw to stand or move or do more than take it and embrace the bliss of finally being free from choice. When I had to endure what they gave, then I almost enjoyed it.” I swallowed. “And while Roland kept me drunk on magic, part of me enjoyed it. I wanted out, I wanted you, but I still craved the kind of peace he offered.”

  “You want to talk?” Between one heartbeat and the next, Harper’s eyes turned ice cold. My bones froze. I couldn’t shake the chill. I had the impression he saw inside of me, to where it hurt most, that he’d hurt worse and scoffed at the pathetic innards of my misery. “Let’s talk.”

  Precise, clipped, furious words followed. I shivered against his arctic tone of voice and the way he emptied himself of every scrap of my Harper. The male across from me was a shell. I saw now how he’d survived Eliya. He hadn’t. This…mask, this…husk, had done it for him.

  “My queen,” he all but spat, “enjoyed my performances. She commissioned them often by offering me food or drink after I’d begun to gnaw on my fingernails or bite the flesh off my arms.” My gorge rose as he continued his account. “I entertained her several times a day. Some of my partners, I recognized. Most I didn’t.” He dared me with his gaze. “Select few, I enjoyed.”

  Pleas for him to stop filled my mouth. I bit down, through my lip, and caged them.

  “I could have fought Eliya’s drugs and persuasions harder. I didn’t. I wanted an end so badly, I embraced her false bliss and let her compulsions swim through my mind and erase the details of your face one beloved feature at a time.” Disgust saturated his voice. “You don’t deserve me? I don’t deserve to know your name, let alone how it tastes on my tongue.”

  Agony so acute I would have thought it an archer with a target pierced my heart.

  Why had I thought I needed even a taste of his pain? Hadn’t we shared enough agony? Endured enough humility? Why had I thought jabbing him with barbs of my uncertainty would make him real? He was real. I was the one drifting through life in a haze of my own making, using his trials to distance him from me, then failing in courage to glance beneath the lies he ate for my comfort. Every little thing with us had been fine. He forced our lives into that mold, for me.

  A hard shudder made his corded forearms tighten beneath my hands. He peeled away his façade, the cold words and an even harsher reality. Then he reapplied his mask layer by layer.

  Pressing a finger to my lips, he said, “I’ve never deserved you. This—us—we’re past that. We’re two halves of the same person who somehow didn’t make a whole. And I’m glad.” His large hands cradled my face. “I like that you’re soft where I’m hard. You give when I won’t. I’ve imagined how it must feel to burrow in your warmth so many times reality blurs.”

  “Harper…” My cheeks flamed.

  His thumb swiped across my jaw. “Have I really never been inside you?”

  I placed his palm over my frantic heart. “You were from the first. You will be, always.”

  “It’s not enough.” He leaned in, replacing his thumb with his lips, nipping my chin.

  His touch spread fever through my limbs, melting my heart and my resolve. My core wept at the thought of our bodies entwined. I was ready, finally, to stake my claim. His frank assessment made me self-aware. I hadn’t washed in memory. I smelled of horse and desperation.

  I refused to go to him with residue from another male’s hands on me. I wanted to be cleansed. I wanted his scent to replace mine so I smelled him on my skin. I wanted…a bath.

  Chamomile oil swirled in eddies around my breasts as Harper used a dropper to perfume my bathwater. My lids were half closed to better watch his unguarded fascination with that particular part of my anatomy. He hadn’t touched me since drawing my bath, except to hold my hand and guide me into the massive copper tub, the safe house’s one luxury. I’d bought the unique creation from a local artisan to round out the house’s amenities. Smitten, I’d bought a second for the consulate and commissioned a third as a gift for Nesvia’s last birthday. Its circular lip rested flush with the floor. Its curve enticed you to stay awhile. Buried in the ground, it stood five feet deep with narrow steps notched down one side, and a bench seat circled the interior.

  What I’d thought of as practical shined in a whole new light once exposed to Harper.

  I sneaked a glance at where he sat cross-legged next to me. “Want to come in?”

  “Hmm?” His hand submerged, checking the temperature for the third or fourth time.

  He jolted when I grabbed his wrist and tugged. “I asked if you wanted to join me.”

  With obvious effort, he dragged his gaze to mine. “I thought you wanted privacy.”

  I didn’t mention he hadn’t left after pouring my bath, or that private meant one, not two.

  “I wouldn’t mind the company.” I scooted across the bench and made room by the stairs.

  He brushed the buttons of his shirt with his fingers but didn’t unfasten them.

  “What’s wrong?” The cozy atmosphere bumped down a degree.

  “It’s nothing.” He worked the front of his shirt open.

  I made my way toward the edge closest to him. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be stalling.” Grabbing his hand, I stopped him from undressing. He frowned up at me. “Tell me.”

  He held out his arm and his glamour dropped. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

  His natural skin looked the same as always. I brushed my hands down the network of veins from elbow to wrist, taking his hand. “I don�
�t understand.” I smiled. “What am I missing?”

  “This.” His forearm shimmered, and another layer of glamour peeled aside.

  I lost my footing, slipping as my gut plummeted. The lines and scars I remembered, multiplied. Pockmarked craters scooped out chunks of his flesh, their rims littered with bite marks. Some were too small or in the wrong location to have been made by him. I forced my mouth shut, made my claws retract and my lips smile. “You have nothing to hide. Not from me.”

  He shivered when I traced the same path, lingering over unfamiliar grooves.

  “I wanted to be how you remembered me.” Shame thickened his voice.

  I stroked his hair from his face where steam plastered it to his forehead. “Is there more?”

  He nodded, staring at the floor between us. “It’s like that. All over.”

  “Can I see?”

  His pause lasted longer than a simple decision should have taken.

  “Are you sure?” His fragile self-esteem crumpled when he spoke. “It’s not… I’m not…”

  Now I understood why he allowed me to pull away, why my suggestion of a bath was met with relief and not his usual growling impatience. I’d forgotten his station, a mistake.

  Sthudai traded on their beauty. Their lives were defined by their appearance. Their worth was measured by it. I failed him yet again by neglecting this consideration. He simply was to me.

  I appreciated his beauty. I didn’t judge him by it or consider he might judge himself by it.

  “I’m sure.” I tugged his shirt from his shoulders, earning a grimace from him.

  Focusing on the hammered lip of the tub, he let his glamour drop—all the way. When I touched him now, the low-level hum of magic was absent. He bared himself to me, stripped as naked as if he wore no clothing. This was him, all of him, without any enhancement or artifice.

  He had been foolish to think more scars, even the vicious ones, would detract from his appeal. I decided I saw him as my favorite version of him, with or without his glamour. I’d known him too long to change my perceptions. He was Harper. I was Emma. It was that simple.