She’d been wrong about him. So wrong. Swallowing hard, she said after him, “If you give her that coin, you will not touch me again.”
For an instant, his step faltered. His fists clenched. But he continued on.
And she had not expected agony like this. Never had she imagined Kavik would slip a blade between her ribs and leave her bleeding. Throat burning, she blindly turned toward the packs, vision wavering with hot tears.
Vela. I need your strength now. Help me, please.
But the pain did not ease.
HIS legs barely seemed able to carry the crushing weight in his chest. It was done. She would not touch him. He would never touch her again. Even if she continued her quest and followed him until the end of his days, he would stand firm.
Except he could barely stand now. The heat from the ovens in the inn’s brewing chambers seemed like a demon’s breath on his face. As soon as he moved out of sight of the stables, he leaned back against the support of the walls.
“Kavik? Are you unwell?”
Selaq, with a blue cloth covering her yellow hair and a wooden tub propped on her hip. Her appearance made the coin in his hand seemed heavier than any boulder. He would never give it to the innkeeper. Mala never needed to know.
Whatever her injuries, they couldn’t be deep. Her pride had been damaged. Not her heart. She hadn’t known him well enough or long enough to feel more.
Except that she felt everything deeply. He’d never seen anyone possess such ferocity and passion. Who was so quick to grin—or to make him laugh.
His throat a knot, he said, “I would ask for your help.”
Eyes widening, Selaq stared at him. “You would ask? Has the sun risen in the west? Or has the truly impossible happened, and Barin is dead?”
Kavik could never joke about Barin’s death. “I need you to let Mala believe I have paid you to come to my bed tonight.”
“Oh, no.” She hefted the tub up onto a table. “She’ll kill me.”
“No. It would not be you that she hurt.” And Kavik would take any punishment she gave him. Had already given him. You will not touch me again. “She would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“You don’t deserve a collar.”
The coin seemed to burn in his palm. “She has vowed never to put one on me.”
And she wouldn’t. Kavik knew she wouldn’t. She’d felt deeply then, too, when he’d told her of his father. Of his moon night and what Barin and his soldiers had done.
Selaq scoffed and lifted a ball of brown dough from the tub. “Even if Vela demands it?”
“She believes the goddess wouldn’t ask it of her.” The image of cold silver eyes flashed through his memory. “I do not believe the same.”
“Do you think she would defy the goddess? Abandon her quest?”
“She will have to.” Because Kavik would never give in. “Or never complete it.”
Her brow furrowed. “You say that very easily. When I heard of the taming, I wished her no success. But I would still never wish what would come upon her if she abandoned it.”
“She will be marked. But she has no vanity. And she wears other scars.” Almost as many as Kavik did.
Selaq’s kneading hands stilled, and she stared at him. “Kavik, you fool. You utter fool.”
Tension gripped his chest. A stubborn fool. “Why?”
“A quest is a promise made to Vela. Do you think she accepts a broken vow lightly? Mala will be forsaken. Shunned. Never allowed to return home. Never allowed to stay in any one place because anyone who offers her shelter or aid will risk Vela’s wrath. Any village she enters, they will drive her away with dogs and stones. You think Barin plagues you? It is nothing to what the goddess will do to her.”
Ice splintered through his veins. And he had shoved her away? Sworn never to give in? He would crawl into the citadel with a bit between his teeth if it pleased Vela.
And beg Mala to forgive him.
His legs found their strength again but as soon as they carried him into the stable yard, a vise seized his heart. Mala was sorting through the packs, adding items to the pouches on Shim’s saddle, her head bowed and her movements slow. Leaving.
Her head shot up when the stallion gave his nicker of warning. She wiped her cheeks.
The tightness in Kavik’s throat became a burning knot. “Mala—”
“You can keep the black gelding and the other two horses. They will only slow me down.” Without looking at him, she opened a jute sack and began dividing the contents. “They will be compensation for your assistance in searching for the demon tusker.”
“Don’t, Mala. Please.” Voice broken, he reached for her.
She whirled on him, her hand flying to her sword. Her blade pressed against his throat.
Kavik stilled. It was not the weapon that stopped him. Her dark eyes swam with tears, but the expression in them was a spear through his chest. Not just pain. Devastation that matched his own.