“You won’t,” she said, silencing him with fingers, lips, and tongue.
Reule gave in to her confidence with a sigh, resigning himself to the knowledge that in spite of his attempts to argue, a part of him had already decided to claim her, in every way. He’d have to hope that her fearlessness was well-founded. If there were problems, they could be dealt with at the time, but he was determined that it wasn’t now. He knew she was intent on convincing him otherwise, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be swayed by his body or hers.
“Reule!” Mystique cried out when he suddenly surged away from her and rose to his feet. He left her grasping hands empty and her small body entirely chilled. But then he was there scooping her up, hauling her against his chest. He moved with confidence through the thick steam until he’d set her on a bench and was wrapping her up in the dry, full warmth of clean cloths. He took special care with each of her wounds, his head bent silently to his task. That was when she understood with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t be learning what it meant to be loved by a Sánge male that night.
Chapter 8
Darcio was many things, but a fool had never been one of them. He was respectfully cautious as he watched his Prime prowl the common room in a deep, moody pacing that would’ve set up the hackles of any Sánge who happened to stumble on their predatory king. Darcio was Shadow. Always there, but silent and unobtrusive. His ability to be so had earned him his exalted position as the Prime of Jeth’s personal bodyguard, so he wasn’t about to change his habits now. Not that Reule looked like he was much in the mood for conversing, in any event.
A servant entered the vicinity and Darcio quickly came to attention, waving the unsuspecting man back to a safe distance from their agitated Prime.
“What is it?” Darcio asked.
“There is…That is, a farmer has come to request assistance, and he is waiting…”
“Why do you disturb me with this?” Reule’s barked demand made the Sánge attendant leap in his own skin and he went pale beneath his normal swarthiness. Keep attendants were aware of Reule being a gruff and even sometimes impatient man, but he was never mean or cruel. The servant’s reaction was a testament to the rawness of Reule’s tone. “Rye is Prime Blade, and he’s in his offices today. It’s his duty to award assistances. Why do you come to me?”
“M-my Prime,” the attendant stammered hastily, “it’s not the type of assistance you think. The farmer doesn’t wish to see any of the Packmates.”
“Well, then who?” Reule asked sharply.
But Darcio instinctively already knew and, fearing Reule’s volatility, he dug for truth and clarity in the attendant’s mind. Thought flooded him and instantly confirmed his suspicions about what was happening.
“Tell the farmer that he cannot be helped today. He can return in a day or two. She’ll be ready to receive visitors then.”
Reule’s head snapped to attention before the attendant had even begun to reply and Darcio realized his mistake a moment too late. He shouldn’t have said “she.”
“A farmer has come to see Mystique? How does a commoner know of Mystique? For that matter, what assistance would he ask of her?”
“My Prime,” the attendant said with surprising aplomb, “there is hardly anyone in Jeth who hasn’t heard of the foundling woman. The apothecary alone was—”
“The apothecary?” Reule roared.
“Apparently, our apothecary has taken his leave,” Darcio answered for the servant. “On his way out of the city, he had a great deal to say, to any and all who would listen, about your ‘outlander whore,’ My Prime. As the apothecary told it, she dismissed him after she insulted him and all Sánge. The physic then informed his listeners that she was single-handedly going to be responsible for the death of the Prime Tracker because she’s using her outlander ways on him.”
“By the Lord and Lady, the bastard will pay for that! He knew full well Chayne was near dead at his hands already!”
“Of course,” Darcio agreed, his manner still casual and unconcerned. “That was the point, I’m certain. No matter what we said, if Chayne were to die, the ‘outlander whore’ would be responsible and we’d just be covering the truth of it.”
“If anyone calls her that again, Darcio, I will personally gut them,” Reule spat roughly.
“Your pardon, My Prime,” Darcio said sincerely, following it up with a charming sort of grin meant to ease his leader’s temper. “But let’s not forget the farmer, Reule.”
“The farmer,” Reule repeated, his brows drawing down in thought. “Why has a farmer come to seek Mystique after the apothecary’s lies?”
“Firstly, My Prime,” the attendant said quickly, “there’s no longer an apothecary for the people to go to. He even took his two apprentices with him. Therefore, the only healer that remains is the one who challenged and usurped the former physic’s position.”
“Mystique,” Reule breathed. “But he warned them she was going to kill a Packmate. That’s as bad as accusing her of trying to assassinate me.”
“Secondly, My Prime,” the attendant continued methodically, “I believe the farmer’s son is considered terminally ill, and that he would try anything, even the ways of an outlander…uh…woman.” The attendant flushed when Darcio snickered. “He has nothing left to lose.”
“I don’t care what the father’s motivation is, only that the boy is in need.”
All three males turned to see Mystique walking rapidly past the common area, skirts swishing around her determined steps. She was twisting her hair up quickly, looking for all the world like a woman about to take care of serious business. Darcio watched as Reule all but ran to catch her by the arm and stop her progress.
“Kébé, you’re supposed to be resting.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, trying to gently extract her arm. She might as well have been trying to escape a prison. Her glare at his hand also did little good. Darcio had to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds of amusement. He leaned back in his chair as if watching a sporting event. The Shadow was amused by Reule’s behavior. He was protective by nature, but this was downright proprietary. “Reule,” Mystique said with obvious exasperation, “I feel fine. Look at my arms. See?” She held out her free forearm, which was left bare by the elbow-length sleeve of her dove gray velvet gown.
Mystique’s gesture showed off the nearly healed expanse of her arm, only bruises remaining of what had been ugly and painful wounds the previous evening. Amando had been correct. A single night’s rest had done wonders for her. However, Darcio could see she was still unusually pale and there were shadows beneath her eyes. Healing Chayne and then herself had taken its toll. Mystique’s straight spine and no-nonsense bravado was more than an act, though. Darcio didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d find whatever resources it took if she needed to.
“Mystique, you look exhausted. One night of rest after what you did for Chayne isn’t enough. You’re barely recovered from your own wounds, kébé. You can’t keep pushing like this.”
“I feel fine,” she insisted. “Better than I have in a while.”
This time, she did not pull away. Darcio watched as she leaned closer to Reule, her small body fitting to his bigger one and somehow matching perfectly against him. The Shadow’s eyes widened at her bold public familiarity, and the whiplash of response from his Prime that snapped like lightning through the Pack connection. He glanced at the attendant, who looked like he needed to sit down very badly. Darcio hardly blamed him. Outlander or no, it’d been a long time since anyone had seen Reule welcome the affections of a fertile female. Not since he was an adolescent, Darcio recalled more specifically. But even with his mistresses, Reule had never been one for public affection.
Her tactic was obvious and almost devious in its upfront nature, if that contradiction were possible. It was certainly powerful, if the look on Reule’s face was anything to go by. And that was totally discounting what he was inadvertently emanating to his sensitive Packmates. Not that
the Pack wasn’t already completely aware of the way Reule was responding to the pretty stranger. Every time the two of them touched, it had a tidal effect that crashed through all seven men. The Prime was the epicenter, and the shock wave would radiate out to the others.
Darcio had never felt anything like it. Not from Reule, not from anyone. The result was breathtaking and arousing. Even now his heart was racing madly, echoing the leap his Prime’s had taken. The entire Pack was unable to wholly protect themselves from so powerful a psychic feedback. The mistresses of the Pack were getting a fair dose of feedback themselves as a result. It was the first time Reule had ever given himself over to the full power of the mnise, and with an entire Pack within the age of mnise it was bound to have volatile repercussions. Especially given Reule’s emanation ability and the difficulty of controlling it when he was feeling emotional extremes. This was what had set Delano and Saber to worrying. However, after what she’d done for Chayne last night, Darcio doubted there would be another sound of protest from the Pack where Mystique was concerned.
“Considering the length of your memory and the physical state you’ve been in for your five days of awareness, that isn’t truly saying much,” Reule said wryly to her, although his fingers had come up to sweep over the arch of her left brow in a gesture of tenderness.
Mystique lowered her arm and gave him a patient smile. “Reule, there’s no apothecary in your city.” Her nose wrinkled when she thought of the odious physic who had failed at his duties and maligned her as well. Darcio suspected she wasn’t concerned with the latter much at all. “Despite his questionable competency, he served a purpose. There will be fear, even among brave Sánge, if they feel there’s nowhere to turn when illness and injury strike.”
She used Reule’s reaction to her logic as an opportunity to slip out of his lax hands, stepping around him in order to confront Darcio, who quickly rose to his feet. “I’ll need Pariedes and Drago to help me. I need rooms, somewhere on the ground floor. One room with good light, and the other a dark, cool room close by the first with no natural light whatsoever so I can store herbs and medicinals. A hearth in each. I’ll need many sturdy shelves, a few cots.”
“You wish to create an infirmary in the keep?” Darcio asked.
“Where better? Unless you prefer to move me to my own lodgings in the city proper where—”
“No! You’ll stay here where it’s safe and where I can keep an eye on your insane behavior,” Reule commanded. “City proper,” he grumbled irritably, “as though I’d set an outlander woman who has just been accused of threatening a Packmate out alone among Sánge? Not to mention being touted as the reason for the city losing its apothecary in the first place. You wouldn’t survive the day.”
Mystique seemed to take affront to that and Darcio had to cover a laugh with a cough as she glared at his Prime from her diminutive height as though she wanted to bash him over the head.
“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself,” she argued indignantly. “Don’t think just because I needed rescuing that I’m some sort of fragile thing in need of care all the time.”
Darcio certainly hoped not. If she thought to run with Reule and his Pack, she’d have to be made of stern stuff. However, she had proved herself to have endurance and a tolerance for hardship already. It was Reule’s remark that was in the wrong, and the Prime of Jeth knew it on a logical level. Darcio just didn’t think Reule was thinking very logically at the moment.
“I hardly think you could face down an angry mob of Sánge, Mystique,” Reule countered sharply.
“You’d be surprised at what I’ve had to face down!” she snapped furiously.
There was a beat as the remark made an impact on everyone in the room, including Mystique herself. Her anger rushed away and so did all of the blood in her upper body. Darcio and Reule both leapt for her, each catching her under an arm and holding her steady as she gasped for breath. She recovered and tried to break away, but she certainly wasn’t strong enough to shake them off. The temptation to read her thoughts was fierce, but Darcio respected her privacy even though her horror and fear were already overwhelming his senses.
“I’m all right. Please,” she said tightly, trying to loosen herself again from the hands circling her upper arms.
“To hell you are,” Reule said bluntly, using his grip to draw her away from Darcio and into his full captivity. “What is it? What did you remember?”
Darcio turned to the forgotten attendant, who was trying not to look interested in what was happening. With a sharp mental command, the Shadow sent him on his way with instructions to feed the farmer while allowing him to wait in the kitchens. He turned back in time to see Mystique glancing at him with discomfort.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Darcio said graciously, not wishing to hinder what was clearly a need for her to talk about her trauma. But Reule halted him before he could move an inch.
“No. Stay, Shadow. Kébé, Darcio is trusted every day with my life and has been since I was born,” he coaxed her gently. “I’ll only have to repeat this to him later. I need the help of all my Pack in order to assist you in remembering what happened to you. To bring to justice those who hurt you.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head and burying her face against Reule’s broad chest. She was hiding from the truth now, rather than hiding it from them. Darcio couldn’t imagine what could possibly encourage her to want to relive what she’d been through. He’d relived much of it for her, and he was still having nightmares days later.
“Talk to us, kébé. Don’t trap it inside you. It will cause you to live in fear.”
Darcio had to hand it to his Prime. He seemed to know exactly what to say. She jerked her head up and wriggled away with sharp twists of her shoulders.
“I’m not afraid!” It was an untruth. Her heart was racing hard enough to give it a fit. “I won’t be afraid,” she corrected herself in a meeker voice. She wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her chin bravely in spite of the trembling of her body. “I just remember people. A lot of people. Shouts. Laughter.” She shivered so hard, Darcio heard her teeth clicking together. “Jeering,” she corrected again. “It was hostile and all around me.”
The Shadow felt his Prime’s eyes on him, but he didn’t need to look up to know his expression. This was nothing they’d discovered together through Darcio’s ability. She’d been alone during his tracing of her body memory. Even when the Jakals had been in the same house with her. They’d never once known she was there. Darcio theorized that she’d somehow managed to block them off from sensing her. The strange thing was, none of the Pack had directly felt her sorrow that day either. What they’d felt had traveled through the Prime first before reaching them. It was yet another mystery.
“A group?” Reule encouraged gently.
“A crowd. A…large crowd. That’s all I know,” she said abruptly, turning her back on them and pacing away. “I should see this farmer and his boy,” she said, her fingers sweeping both of her cheeks quickly, a useless attempt to hide tears from them. But they both understood she needed time to digest these memories and the feelings they evoked. She would talk to Reule when she was ready.
“How did you know someone was here to see you?” Darcio asked casually, trying to change the subject.
“Well, I…” She turned around, surprise on her face as she looked from Darcio to Reule and back again. “I just…I felt their need. I feel the son’s sickness. I just knew they were here and that they needed me to heal them.”
“Them? I thought the son was the only one ill,” Reule said.
“Reule,” she chided softly. “What good father’s spirit wouldn’t be sick when his son is so ill?”
She turned and walked briskly away, as if that would explain everything.
Oddly enough, Darcio believed it did.
It took another argument and a great deal of coaxing to convince Reule and Darcio not to accompany her into the kitchen. She tried to get them to go ab
out their normal business, but that was apparently asking too much of either of them. She suspected she was gaining the mercurial Shadow’s championship, though she knew not what she’d done to deserve it. But it was his relaxed attitude and remarks that eventually kept Reule away from the kitchens.
Mystique was grateful for that. She wanted to face this on her own, without Reule’s handholding. He was so imposing, and as the ruler of Jeth, he’d command awe, respect, and obedience. She wanted none of that by proxy. She’d inadvertently made herself responsible for the health of this Sánge nation by chasing away their apothecaries. Considering the way he’d cared for Chayne, it was no wonder he and his apprentices were all that had been needed to care for thousands of Sánge. It must have been effortless to hand out his lackluster instructions. She even suspected the monopoly was by design. Why train others who might outpace him and one day come to realize his shortcomings?
Mystique was grateful she’d been able to heal Chayne, and she was even glad she’d called attention to the untrustworthy medicine the apothecary of Jeth had been practicing. What she wasn’t so certain of was whether she could help the rest of the Sánge. She didn’t even know how she knew what she knew, or even how far that knowledge truly went. She was afraid of making a mistake that could cause harm to someone. Just because she was one of those so-called naturopathics, that didn’t make her infallible.
However, she wouldn’t walk into the situation letting anyone else know her self-doubts. She swept into the hot kitchen, feeling its great bustle of activity in clouds of steam and the noisy clatter of pots and cutlery. There was an absence of talking, though, and the way the small hairs on her arms stirred to life, she realized that the entire staff was communicating telepathically rather than shouting over the din of their work. As a result, there was an almost musical rhythm to the way they were doing everything. Even when they wove around one another it was like a perfectly timed dance. It made her smile.