in the Tibran camp. The misty wave seemed to have lost power just there, for Kallista thought she could see wounded attempting to crawl back to safety.
On the waters of Ukiny Bay, Tibran ships sat at crazy angles, their masts snapped and splintered. They’d all been anchored closer to the city than the camp had been. Some ships had already sunk, the rest sinking or so damaged they’d never sail before next spring.
Within the city, Kallista could hear shouting, some of it joyous, some frightened. The mist hadn’t harmed Torchay. Could it have been so selective as to kill only Tibrans, leaving Adarans untouched?
“My gloves, Torchay. I need my gloves.”
“Yes, Captain.” He pulled them from his belt and helped her put them on, both of them fumbling at the task with shaking hands.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Torchay.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice. “Please don’t be afraid of me now.”
“I am afraid for you. That’s a different sort of thing. Blessed One, Kallista, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I don’t—You heard what I said. And then there was power. So much—” She shivered and Torchay wrapped his arms around her, sharing his warmth as he had before. Her shivers weren’t due to cold this time, but still his presence stopped them.
“It sounds almost as if…” His voice came hesitant, fearful. “Could you have been…marked?”
Terrified, Kallista stared at him. “That’s just legend. Children’s stories. It isn’t real.”
“Isn’t it?” Torchay looked over her head at the devastation on the plains below.
Kallista shivered again. Or perhaps it was more of a shudder. “Isn’t it supposed to leave an actual mark? Something you can see? Or feel?”
Torchay’s hand that had been absently stroking the nape of her neck came down to claim her hand. He carried it back up to where he’d been touching her. “What do you feel?”
There, beneath her untidy queue, she felt a faint raised ridge on her skin. Her fingertips followed it down to a sort of knot, where another ridge intersected the first. Cold gripped her heart.
“Can you see it?” She held her hair up, out of the way, while Torchay bent to look.
“Yes,” he said. Nothing more.
“Well? What does it look like?”
“A scar. A red, raised scar.” He paused and his fingers touched. He traced along her spine, then perpendicular to it. “North. South. East. West.” He touched the point where the lines crossed, where Kallista had felt the knot. “And a rose in the center. It’s a perfect Compass Rose.”
She dropped her hair, pressed it down over the mark, over Torchay’s hand. “Maybe it was there already.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Kallista, I’ve braided your hair almost every day for nine years. It wasn’t there.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“O h, sweet heaven, Torchay.” Kallista had reached the end of her strength. She’d poured it all out and had nothing left for her precious control. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m a soldier. Nothing more. I don’t want this.”
All she’d ever wanted was an ordinary life. An ilian of her own. Family. Friends. But from the day her magic first woke when she was thirteen, and she killed one of the family’s supper chickens with an out-of-control lightning bolt, she’d been destined for the military.
Her dreams had shrunk from love and family to duty and comrades. And now, even that threatened to be taken from her. Punishment for finding a friend.
On his feet again, Torchay carefully wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Nevertheless.”
“I’d rather have a friend.”
“Is that what you’re fretting about?” His northern mountains accent came out as he teased. “You’ve still got that. You’ll not get rid of me so easily.”
“Naitan. Are you injured?” One of the regular Adaran troops put his head above the walkway, standing on a Tibran ladder. “General Uskenda has ordered every able-bodied soldier
On the waters of Ukiny Bay, Tibran ships sat at crazy angles, their masts snapped and splintered. They’d all been anchored closer to the city than the camp had been. Some ships had already sunk, the rest sinking or so damaged they’d never sail before next spring.
Within the city, Kallista could hear shouting, some of it joyous, some frightened. The mist hadn’t harmed Torchay. Could it have been so selective as to kill only Tibrans, leaving Adarans untouched?
“My gloves, Torchay. I need my gloves.”
“Yes, Captain.” He pulled them from his belt and helped her put them on, both of them fumbling at the task with shaking hands.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Torchay.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice. “Please don’t be afraid of me now.”
“I am afraid for you. That’s a different sort of thing. Blessed One, Kallista, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I don’t—You heard what I said. And then there was power. So much—” She shivered and Torchay wrapped his arms around her, sharing his warmth as he had before. Her shivers weren’t due to cold this time, but still his presence stopped them.
“It sounds almost as if…” His voice came hesitant, fearful. “Could you have been…marked?”
Terrified, Kallista stared at him. “That’s just legend. Children’s stories. It isn’t real.”
“Isn’t it?” Torchay looked over her head at the devastation on the plains below.
Kallista shivered again. Or perhaps it was more of a shudder. “Isn’t it supposed to leave an actual mark? Something you can see? Or feel?”
Torchay’s hand that had been absently stroking the nape of her neck came down to claim her hand. He carried it back up to where he’d been touching her. “What do you feel?”
There, beneath her untidy queue, she felt a faint raised ridge on her skin. Her fingertips followed it down to a sort of knot, where another ridge intersected the first. Cold gripped her heart.
“Can you see it?” She held her hair up, out of the way, while Torchay bent to look.
“Yes,” he said. Nothing more.
“Well? What does it look like?”
“A scar. A red, raised scar.” He paused and his fingers touched. He traced along her spine, then perpendicular to it. “North. South. East. West.” He touched the point where the lines crossed, where Kallista had felt the knot. “And a rose in the center. It’s a perfect Compass Rose.”
She dropped her hair, pressed it down over the mark, over Torchay’s hand. “Maybe it was there already.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Kallista, I’ve braided your hair almost every day for nine years. It wasn’t there.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“O h, sweet heaven, Torchay.” Kallista had reached the end of her strength. She’d poured it all out and had nothing left for her precious control. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m a soldier. Nothing more. I don’t want this.”
All she’d ever wanted was an ordinary life. An ilian of her own. Family. Friends. But from the day her magic first woke when she was thirteen, and she killed one of the family’s supper chickens with an out-of-control lightning bolt, she’d been destined for the military.
Her dreams had shrunk from love and family to duty and comrades. And now, even that threatened to be taken from her. Punishment for finding a friend.
On his feet again, Torchay carefully wiped the tear away with his thumb. “Nevertheless.”
“I’d rather have a friend.”
“Is that what you’re fretting about?” His northern mountains accent came out as he teased. “You’ve still got that. You’ll not get rid of me so easily.”
“Naitan. Are you injured?” One of the regular Adaran troops put his head above the walkway, standing on a Tibran ladder. “General Uskenda has ordered every able-bodied soldier
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