“Brave?” Taar shakes his head. For the briefest instant, his eyes dare to look out into the dark of thevardimnar, beyond the glow of lightsong, then hastily return to mine. “I am not brave. I am more afraid now than I was as a child, when this evil first fell across my world.”
“More afraid?” I scoff. “I don’t believe you’re frightened at all.”
“Then you do not know me very well yet,zylnala.” His voice is sad and faintly rueful. “You have not yet understood my heart.”
Once again I am struck by his expression, struggle to comprehend it. Willing to be distracted, I push aside my own terror and reach out along the shining golden thread which unites us. In that place where it flows from his chest, I feel the love he bears for me. Still so new, so tender and fresh, and yet shockingly deep-rooted. With every breath he takes, those roots deepen; given time, it will grow into a great expanse of love that continues to branch and spread throughout his life and beyond. The truth of it frightens me. How can I bear being loved by such a man, knowing how unworthy I am of his devotion?
But one thing I begin to recognize: the fear moving through him. For to know real love is to know real fear. If given room to grow at equal pace with the love, it will take root as well, andbecome a darkly poisonous thing, as hellish in its menace as thevardimnaritself.
I blink hard, pulling back from him, back from our connection. Breath catches in my throat, and it’s only with an effort of will that I release it. For some time I can do nothing but sit in my saddle, easing air in and out from my lungs as I listen to Diira’s song. At last I look up at Taar again, only to find him still watching me sadly.
“Now you see, little songbird,” he says in a low voice. “So long as you are mine, I shall fear the loss of you. Your joy means more to me than life, yet I find I am incapable of sustaining it. Though I give my all, my all will never be enough to protect you. Not in the end. I can only walk alongside you through this darkness, this hell which surrounds us, and learn to trust you more.”
I squeeze his hand, knuckles whitening. Until this moment, I’d not realized what a dangerous thing we’ve entered into. I was so infatuated with the thrills of body and soul experienced with him through the secret hours of the night. I thought then that I understood love. But this . . . this is where our bond truly matters. This dance of love and fear and trust, all balanced together on the edge of a knife. What a beautiful dance it will be as the years go by, if only we can maintain that balance.
On a sudden impulse, I lift his hand to my mouth, kissing it reverently. Then I press his palm to my cheek, let him feel the warmth of my tears, even as we allow our souls to join in the song of the licorneir. And the light pulsing around us shines all the brighter.
When thevardimnarlifts at last, I cannot tell if it has been hours or minutes. It felt like an age, but judging by the position of the sun, I don’t think we’ve lost much of our day. I shake my head, blinking away the shadows on the edge of my vision, and lean forward to rub Diira’s shoulder, gratefully. Then I turn to Taar. “We’re not making it back to the Hidden City by nightfall, are we?”
He shakes his head and casts me a wry half-smile. “We made too late a start this morning, my love. But no matter. We will ride into the night and, when you are weary, we will sleep under the stars.”
“WhenIam weary?” I snort. “I seem to rememberyouare the one who did not sleep at all last night.”
He sighs and runs a hand down his face, pulling at the skin under his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he says, then shoots me a quick smile. “But you were worth it.”
I flush. His words don’t dispel my concern; he looks haggard after the ordeal he suffered yesterday at Shanaera’s hands. And we have another ordeal to face when we reach our destination, one neither of us is prepared to meet.
“Why don’t we stop now?” I say. “Here is as good a place as any. Or we could find water . . .” My voice trails off as I watch the sudden tightening of Taar’s features. All traces of exhaustion vanish in a sudden intensity of focus. “What is it?” I ask, uncertain I want to know the answer.
He stands in his stirrups, eyes narrowing, his gaze fixed on the western horizon toward which we have been riding. Elydark tosses his head, and they exchange trills of song between them, which my gods-gift detects, though I do not understand them. I look in the same direction as they, and Diira pricks up her ears, nickering softly.
What is it?I ask her.
Licorneir,she replies, singing into my mind.Fast approaching.
Mahra?
Diira shakes her head, horn flashing in the late afternoon sun.Heartbound licorneir,she replies.
My skin prickles. This can only mean Licornyn riders. They do not venture into Cruor unless necessity drives them, for even a bonded licorneir is never wholly safe from the ravages of thevardimnar.I turn to Taar. “Are they riders from the Hidden City?”
Taar’s nostrils flare. “I cannot tell from here. It may be Licornyn from another tribe. But I think not. Kildorath will be on our trail.”
A shudder roles down my neck at that name. I remember Kildorath all too vividly as the ferocious man who looked as though he would murder me the night Taar bought me and brought me into the Licornyn encampment. He made an overt attempt to kill me not three days ago, when he saw me again in the Hidden City. In his mind, my mere presence in his land is a sacrilege deserving of instant death. He will gladly slit my throat if given half the chance. And yet he is one of Taar’s men, a trusted companion and longtime friend.
I breathe out slowly, determined not to let panic color my voice. “What are we going to do?”
Taar’s face is tense as he contemplates the various options before us. We could run, of course—turn around here and now, flee across Cruor, avoiding the coming confrontation. But what would be the use? We have nowhere to go. In the end, it is better to meet our pursuers on our own terms than wait to be hunted down or driven into exile.
“We go on,” Taar says at last. He casts me a stern look. “Only this time, you and Diira stay behind. No charging on ahead me.”
I nod in rueful compliance.
“If something happens,” he persists, “you give your licorneir her head. There isn’t another one like her in all this world for pure speed. You outrun them and get away from here. Do you understand?”
As if anything could compel me to abandon him now. We are in this together, whatever may come, whether or not he likes it. But I merely drop my eyelids demurely, smiling my internal rebellion without words.
Taar reads my face. Though he growls a little, he does not try to push me. Instead he urges Elydark forward, and the big red licorneir surges into motion. Diira tosses her head and sets out in pursuit. It is only with a struggle of will that I convince her to hang back, to let Elydark maintain the lead. So we ride for nearly an hour, still without sight of those we go to meet.
