the
ground. The awe-inspiring display had trouble competing with the
man beside her, his solid warmth, a shadow that brushed her arm
before he turned to move away.
___
Lady Perr frowned at the
firedancers, Balthaar above her on the dais when they had so much
to speak of, if only her mind could stay clear for long enough. She
had to know what had happened, the events she couldn’t recall. He
must know the cause of her scars. She took two steps towards him,
determined to use whatever excuse necessary to draw him away from
the High Precept, but before she could reach him, her veil caught
on fire.
Chapter 15
The flames wrapped around
Lady Perr’s face, the fire bringing back another memory
full-force.
Fire. Tongs. Screaming
through a throat raw on the inside and outside as the men with
their faces streaked black and red applied their skills to her
body, torturing her as they removed strips of pale blue flesh,
burning her skin as they did her mind. The flames flickered as she
stared through the sheets of red at Balthaar, the barbarian whose
eyes caught hers as she stood wrapped in flame, stared at her as he
had in the moonlight the last time she’d seen him seeming to run
towards her from too far away.
___
He’d stood close, but not
touching. She’d felt his presence wrap around her heart, warming
her from the inside, as his brief touch always did, like the kiss
of the sun on a cold winter’s day.
She remembered his low
voice as he’d spoken to her of names, whispered his own name,
Harrin, hidden from the world, but a gift to her. His glance felt
like a caress on her face, her lips, her own awareness of the
Barbarian defying reason, logic, nature. She’d left with the
irrational knowledge that she would see him the next day, and the
next, and the one after as though all their days would pass tangled
as growing vines from the rich soil of their mutual
contentment.
That same night she’d
awoken to pounding on her door. When she’d opened it, an Elsyrian
face peered in, his golden eyes alight with concern.
“ Balthaar the viceroy is
petitioning the emperor for your hand. He’s going to be
executed.”
The emotions swirled
through her. Shock and horror replaced the slight euphoria, that
Balthaar, her Barbarian would desire her as his. She could not
allow him to sacrifice himself, his position for something that
could not be. Elves and Barbarians did not, could not, intermarry.
And yet she cared neither for reason nor law. If he were to die,
she would take her place beside him.
“ Take me to him.” She
threw a gauzy wrap around her shoulders as she followed the
Elsyrian into the darkness down the steps. He held a torch above
his head that made his ygolden eyes fierce when he turned to glance
back at her before he led her to the shadows, to the priests of the
Emperor, the Bashai instead of Balthaar.
Chapter 16
Balthaar saw the arc of
flame from the gardener’s hands and moved before it spread from the
flimsy gauze of Lady Perr. Balthaar ripped the flaming sheet off
her head, ignoring the pain in his fingers. She stared at him
blankly, her skin flushed from the heat, but unsinged.
He cupped her face in his
palm as his other hand encircled her waist. “Lady Perr, Hatia, are
you all right?”
“ You weren’t executed,”
she whispered, touching his cheek with trembling fingers. “I
thought they killed you. Of all that they did to me, they could do
nothing worse than tell me of your own tortured death. You’re
real?” she asked, gazing up at him with her soul in her
eyes.
He closed his eyes, lips
tightening before he looked at her, a fierce expression in his eyes
she’d never seen but that the two Rasha recognized from battling
the terrifying Barabbas general.
He ripped her dress in one
quick motion, the aged fibers giving way easily from her throat to
her shoulder revealing pale blue skin in layers of silver, strips
of skin removed in the patterns Balthaar knew. He closed his eyes
as his heart ached,
ground. The awe-inspiring display had trouble competing with the
man beside her, his solid warmth, a shadow that brushed her arm
before he turned to move away.
___
Lady Perr frowned at the
firedancers, Balthaar above her on the dais when they had so much
to speak of, if only her mind could stay clear for long enough. She
had to know what had happened, the events she couldn’t recall. He
must know the cause of her scars. She took two steps towards him,
determined to use whatever excuse necessary to draw him away from
the High Precept, but before she could reach him, her veil caught
on fire.
Chapter 15
The flames wrapped around
Lady Perr’s face, the fire bringing back another memory
full-force.
Fire. Tongs. Screaming
through a throat raw on the inside and outside as the men with
their faces streaked black and red applied their skills to her
body, torturing her as they removed strips of pale blue flesh,
burning her skin as they did her mind. The flames flickered as she
stared through the sheets of red at Balthaar, the barbarian whose
eyes caught hers as she stood wrapped in flame, stared at her as he
had in the moonlight the last time she’d seen him seeming to run
towards her from too far away.
___
He’d stood close, but not
touching. She’d felt his presence wrap around her heart, warming
her from the inside, as his brief touch always did, like the kiss
of the sun on a cold winter’s day.
She remembered his low
voice as he’d spoken to her of names, whispered his own name,
Harrin, hidden from the world, but a gift to her. His glance felt
like a caress on her face, her lips, her own awareness of the
Barbarian defying reason, logic, nature. She’d left with the
irrational knowledge that she would see him the next day, and the
next, and the one after as though all their days would pass tangled
as growing vines from the rich soil of their mutual
contentment.
That same night she’d
awoken to pounding on her door. When she’d opened it, an Elsyrian
face peered in, his golden eyes alight with concern.
“ Balthaar the viceroy is
petitioning the emperor for your hand. He’s going to be
executed.”
The emotions swirled
through her. Shock and horror replaced the slight euphoria, that
Balthaar, her Barbarian would desire her as his. She could not
allow him to sacrifice himself, his position for something that
could not be. Elves and Barbarians did not, could not, intermarry.
And yet she cared neither for reason nor law. If he were to die,
she would take her place beside him.
“ Take me to him.” She
threw a gauzy wrap around her shoulders as she followed the
Elsyrian into the darkness down the steps. He held a torch above
his head that made his ygolden eyes fierce when he turned to glance
back at her before he led her to the shadows, to the priests of the
Emperor, the Bashai instead of Balthaar.
Chapter 16
Balthaar saw the arc of
flame from the gardener’s hands and moved before it spread from the
flimsy gauze of Lady Perr. Balthaar ripped the flaming sheet off
her head, ignoring the pain in his fingers. She stared at him
blankly, her skin flushed from the heat, but unsinged.
He cupped her face in his
palm as his other hand encircled her waist. “Lady Perr, Hatia, are
you all right?”
“ You weren’t executed,”
she whispered, touching his cheek with trembling fingers. “I
thought they killed you. Of all that they did to me, they could do
nothing worse than tell me of your own tortured death. You’re
real?” she asked, gazing up at him with her soul in her
eyes.
He closed his eyes, lips
tightening before he looked at her, a fierce expression in his eyes
she’d never seen but that the two Rasha recognized from battling
the terrifying Barabbas general.
He ripped her dress in one
quick motion, the aged fibers giving way easily from her throat to
her shoulder revealing pale blue skin in layers of silver, strips
of skin removed in the patterns Balthaar knew. He closed his eyes
as his heart ached,
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