vow of obedience to him. But to travel and live and work in close quarters with a female for weeks, maybe months!
What had Abbot Leone told him about vows? That their true worth was revealed only by a test of significant magnitude, a test most frequently fought out in the world, not in the safe, secure confines of a monastery.
Reluctantly, Teague lifted his glance from the scriptura pad and met that of Raina. She stared back, her striking green eyes gleaming with understanding—and an unexpected, most startling compassion.
"It seems," he softly said, "the decision is yours. I have no choice now but to obey." With that, he lowered his head and shoved his hands deep into his sleeves.
Did he want her to decline the king's request? Raina wondered, bemused by his sudden physical and emotional withdrawal. There was no abbot to command her. True, she still risked Falkan's anger if she refused him, but she doubted he'd put her to death because of it. And her refusal would certainly ease the monk's personal turmoil. But suddenly, she wasn't so sure she wanted that.
It wasn't a vindictive need to get back at him for his monastic arrogance. Neither was it some perverse desire to punish herself, though agreeing to join forces with Tremayne might well result in that. No, it was something else . . . something deeper and oh, so very bewildering and illogical. Something that sprang from the heart, not the head.
She shouldn't do it. Shouldn't follow where she'd never gone before, into that nebulous, uncharted realm of emotions, rather than remain on the path of clearheaded logic. But that look on his face last night . . . and the abject f§ar that had emanated from him when he'd held the scriptura pad in his hands and read the fateful words of his abbot . . .
He was trapped, forced to do what he'd no wish to do, and Raina knew now, with a surety that startled her, that he didn't shy from the mission out of cowardice or indolence. No, it was something far deeper, something ingrained in the man that drove him. Something that had happened to him long ago . . . perhaps even on Incendra.
The realization filled her with a curious sense of oneness, of empathy, of partnership with the enigmatic monk. She shouldn't let such maudlin emotions color her decision—she never had before—but for once, she did. Perhaps there was a certain twisted destiny in it all—a monk who shunned women and a woman who hated men, both Incendarian exiles, both with unresolved issues they'd thought they'd left behind that still needed resolution. And though the kindest act might well be to spare the monk the pain of her presence, her needs must ultimately prevail over his.
Raina shook the overly sentimental musings aside. The king awaited her decision. "Brother Tremayne," she softly said. He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes shimmering pits of agony. "It seems," she forced herself to continue, "that I have little other choice, either."
She turned back to Falkan then, unnerved and unwilling to face the monk's torment a moment longer. "I will go, Imperial Majesty. I'm not naive enough to imagine you can so easily or quickly find another Incendarian to replace me at any rate. The monk and I will just have to work out our differences between ourselves."
King Falkan leaned back in his throne and smiled. "Good, I was hoping you'd both see the wisdom of my decision."
"When is the proposed departure?"
"In a week," the king said. "You must have time to gather your things, learn the intricacies of piloting a Volan ship, and be briefed on the caves and the proper technique for extracting and transporting the crystal back to us." He shot his nephew—who until now had stood silently nearby—a questioning look. "Do you want to tell them about the third passenger, or should I?"
"A third passenger?" Raina glanced from one man to the other, suspicion narrowing her gaze. "There was nothing ever mentioned about a third Incendarian. If so, you have the two you need and I
What had Abbot Leone told him about vows? That their true worth was revealed only by a test of significant magnitude, a test most frequently fought out in the world, not in the safe, secure confines of a monastery.
Reluctantly, Teague lifted his glance from the scriptura pad and met that of Raina. She stared back, her striking green eyes gleaming with understanding—and an unexpected, most startling compassion.
"It seems," he softly said, "the decision is yours. I have no choice now but to obey." With that, he lowered his head and shoved his hands deep into his sleeves.
Did he want her to decline the king's request? Raina wondered, bemused by his sudden physical and emotional withdrawal. There was no abbot to command her. True, she still risked Falkan's anger if she refused him, but she doubted he'd put her to death because of it. And her refusal would certainly ease the monk's personal turmoil. But suddenly, she wasn't so sure she wanted that.
It wasn't a vindictive need to get back at him for his monastic arrogance. Neither was it some perverse desire to punish herself, though agreeing to join forces with Tremayne might well result in that. No, it was something else . . . something deeper and oh, so very bewildering and illogical. Something that sprang from the heart, not the head.
She shouldn't do it. Shouldn't follow where she'd never gone before, into that nebulous, uncharted realm of emotions, rather than remain on the path of clearheaded logic. But that look on his face last night . . . and the abject f§ar that had emanated from him when he'd held the scriptura pad in his hands and read the fateful words of his abbot . . .
He was trapped, forced to do what he'd no wish to do, and Raina knew now, with a surety that startled her, that he didn't shy from the mission out of cowardice or indolence. No, it was something far deeper, something ingrained in the man that drove him. Something that had happened to him long ago . . . perhaps even on Incendra.
The realization filled her with a curious sense of oneness, of empathy, of partnership with the enigmatic monk. She shouldn't let such maudlin emotions color her decision—she never had before—but for once, she did. Perhaps there was a certain twisted destiny in it all—a monk who shunned women and a woman who hated men, both Incendarian exiles, both with unresolved issues they'd thought they'd left behind that still needed resolution. And though the kindest act might well be to spare the monk the pain of her presence, her needs must ultimately prevail over his.
Raina shook the overly sentimental musings aside. The king awaited her decision. "Brother Tremayne," she softly said. He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes shimmering pits of agony. "It seems," she forced herself to continue, "that I have little other choice, either."
She turned back to Falkan then, unnerved and unwilling to face the monk's torment a moment longer. "I will go, Imperial Majesty. I'm not naive enough to imagine you can so easily or quickly find another Incendarian to replace me at any rate. The monk and I will just have to work out our differences between ourselves."
King Falkan leaned back in his throne and smiled. "Good, I was hoping you'd both see the wisdom of my decision."
"When is the proposed departure?"
"In a week," the king said. "You must have time to gather your things, learn the intricacies of piloting a Volan ship, and be briefed on the caves and the proper technique for extracting and transporting the crystal back to us." He shot his nephew—who until now had stood silently nearby—a questioning look. "Do you want to tell them about the third passenger, or should I?"
"A third passenger?" Raina glanced from one man to the other, suspicion narrowing her gaze. "There was nothing ever mentioned about a third Incendarian. If so, you have the two you need and I
Similar Books
