Page 35 of War Mage

Even if I must defy the will of the gods themselves.

???

Night comes both too quickly and at an agonizingly slow pace. I force myself to doze again through the day, knowing I will need my strength for what is coming at night. Adara doesn’t have that same struggle; she is obviously still exhausted from her injury and everything that happened afterward. As the sun sets, there’s some commotion in the courtyard, footsteps and horses gathering, which rouses me from my doze. Adara starts at the sounds as well, before realizing that she’s been leaning against my shoulder. It’s obvious the moment she notices the fact because she shoots upright and scoots on the bench until there’s a hand's worth of distance between us. I try not to let her apparent disgust bother me as I exchange a look with her. Her shoulders tense, but she says nothing. Then I hear the quiet command in the menacing voice of the magistrate, “High Guard, you may move out.”

“Yes, Magistrate Zadicus,” comes the reply, in the familiar voice of Gair. “Caravan, move out!”

The wagons lurch forward, rolling heavily over the cobblestone streets of Stormfury Landing. The wagon bed rumbles and jolts. It’s jarring, but I know that the turbulence will just get worse once we’ve exited the city and are on the country roads. I look toward the front of the wagon, but the canvas is closed tight, so I can’t see the driver of the wagon. I scent the air but smell nothing but Adara’s cinnamon and smoke scent. Which tells me, if nothing else, that the driver must be a vampire if I can’t smell him. Damn these vampires and their subtle, barely-there scents.

Turning back to Adara, I ask, “Did you get enough rest?”

The mage nods her head. “I was like one of the dead. Last night was . . . eventful.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I remark. “It is good that you slept. You need to keep up your strength. Everything you do from here on out should be to conserve your energy. Things will only get moreeventfulfrom here.”

Adara rolls her eyes. “Iknow. I know my limits.”

Ah, her impudent attitude again. It’s like she can’t help but lob impertinence my way. I find I don’t mind it as much as I used to though. It’s an improvement from her fear and distress last night. The scent of her overwhelming emotions almost choked me with their intensity and rotten smell. The smell of another’s fear has never affected me in the way that hers does. It’s like claws scratching against the inside of my skull, the feeling that something is intrinsically wrong. Only years of controlling my emotions kept me from losing restraint when I smelled her fear. It makes me want to kill whatever is bothering her, even if it would compromise the mission. I’ve never felt like that before and it perturbs me.

We roll along in tense silence for a while, when suddenly she says quietly, her voice covered by the rolling sound of the wagon wheels, “Sorry I slept on you.”

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard her right.

She glares at me. “Don’t make me say it again. I already apologized.”

I shake my head, responding lowly, not wanting our wagon driver to overhear our conversation, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But you don’t like me,” she remarks. “I’m sure that you don’t want to be my pillow.”

Is that what she thinks? That I do not like her? I suppose that is what I’ve been projecting, trying to keep my Mating Instinct from ruining the mission. It bothers me though, more than I would have thought, that Adara thinks I don’t like her. We may be adversarial and it would be unwise for us to get any closer, but, somehow, I want her to know that I respect her. “It is not that I dislike you,” I tell her.

“Yes you do,” argues the mage. “What happened to ‘you’re cowardly and unpredictable and I’ll never trust you?’”

I shift uncomfortably, having my words thrown back in my face. “You have shown that you are a different person than I thought you were at that time.”

“What? Just because we had sex?” Adara asks carelessly. “Don’t tell me you are that simple?”

Her insults do not bother me. I know that they are coming from a place of hurt and fear. I can feel it in our bond, though she is trying to cover it with sarcasm. “No, it is because you saved us in the Bitter Ocean and have been a good partner to me on this mission thus far. Though I know that your motivations do not match mine, I have still learned to . . . respect you in a way.”

I can feel Adara’s surprise at my words in the mate bond. I continue, “I was wrong before, to mistrust you. My whole purpose here is to ensure your success. I would do anything to make that happen.”

“Anything?” Adara asks, her lips quirking ever so slightly. “Would you give me your Oath on that?”

Her tone is teasing as she says the words, but I take them as serious. “My Oath, Adara. I will do anything to help you succeed on this mission.”

Her brows raise. “That’s a strong promise to make. Don’t you orcs take Oaths very seriously?”

“You underestimate the importance of what we’re doing here,” I say, my voice still hushed. “You agreed to do this for the good of your Mage’s Tower, but you saw those blood slaves last night at the slave market. If Grazrath has his way, the whole world will be in chains. I would do anything to stop that.”

Adara frowns at the seriousness of my words, but nods after a moment. “Alright, I accept that. But you have to admit that promising to do ‘anything,’ to make that happen is still a promise you might not be able to keep.”

“I always keep my promises,” I tell her.

“You’ve never broken a promise?” she challenges. “Not even as a child?”

Her question sobers me. “The only promise I’ve ever broken is when I promised my mother that I would make her well again when her wasting fever worsened. That taught me the importance of only making promises that I have the power to keep. I’ve kept every promise I’ve made since then.”

Adara stares at me, stunned at my personal disclosure. I’m surprised myself. I never speak of my mother. But, oddly, I don’t mind Adara hearing about my mother’s death. If anyone can understand losing a parent to illness it would be her.

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