Page 55 of Prize of the Warlord
Instead of answering, I rise from the table. “I’m tired. And I’d like to speak with my parents alone before I retire, so if you’ll pardon me, Your Highness.”
“Of course, of course.” He looks a bit disgruntled, but he gives me a permissive wave. “Have a bath as well, darling. I didn’t want to speak of it, but you reek of vagabonds and beasts.”
“So sorry, my dear.” I give him an exaggerated curtsy. “I shall try to be more pleasing to you in the future.”
“I’m sure you will.” He smiles, his gaze traveling along my body. “I look forward to it.”
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Once my parents and Joss and I are finally alone, seated around a small table in the inn’s best and largest room, I tell them everything—all the details of my time with the Warlord, including our connection through the ether and what it means. I omit our sensual interludes, but I try to communicate how our feelings for each other deepened during those days of travel. I explain the history of his people as they see it, and the hardships under which they suffer.
“You see, they raid our villages because they don’t have much choice,” I say. “They need supplies that they can’t make or obtain in their own lands. They lose people all the time to disease, exposure, and monsters. They live among so many dangers—it’s terrifying.”
My mother presses her hand over mine. “You’re a compassionate girl, Ixiana. I understand why you feel for them.”
“But it’s not that simple,” my father adds. “The raiders don’t just take what they need and leave. They are cruel and destructive. They poison wells, burn buildings, and rape villagers—men and women alike. They kill children.”
“Some of the clans do those things, yes, but not all. The Warlord’s people don’t commit rape or murder children. At least, not with his permission.”
Joss is playing with one of her knives, as she often does when she’s unsettled. “When I was attending classes in Oloth District, I heard a version of our history like the one the Northern raiders tell,” she says. “I thought the teacher who told it was merely trying to be subversive, or keep us from falling asleep at our writing tables. But maybe he was trying to wake us up to an uncomfortable truth. Still, if you’d seen some of the border villages after the raids, Ixiana—if you heard the weeping of the people left violated and broken in the streets—”
“Cronan would say that these wrongs were done to his people first—that this is vengeance,” I murmur. “Though as I said, he doesn’t condone rape.Faen,there’s so much pain on both sides—how can we ever—” My lip trembles, and I bury my face in my hands. Exhaustion and emotion crash together inside me, but I fight the oncoming tears. If I give in and cry, I’m not sure when I’ll be able tostopcrying. A wound in my heart bleeds for the Warlord, gushing more pain as I realize just how great the divide is between our peoples.
I’d had some vague notion of convincing my parents, of single-handedly crafting a permanent treaty.
A stupid idea. Impossible.
My mother strokes my hair. “Darling, sometimes when we are with powerful people, when we are frightened and endangered—our hearts have to adapt. They develop emotions and connections to help us survive the situation.”
I drop my hands from my face and pull away from her. “That’s not what this is. You don’t understand—you don’t know him.”
“Ixie, be honest. You haven’t known him long, either.” Joss stares me down. “Are you saying you’re in love with him?” Her lip curls.
In her eyes I see that familiar disdain, the contempt for my weakness. Pitiful little helpless Ixiana, falling for her mighty captor.
My parents’ eyes reflect it too—pity and prejudice blending to create a reality in their minds, one they can accept. It’s easier for them to believe that my soft heart was temporarily overcome by Warlord’s looks and brawn—much harder for them to accept that I’ve awakened to a broader worldview and a deeper truth than any of them understand.
“Did he touch you?” asks my mother through tight lips.
She’ll read the truth in my eyes whether I speak it or not, so I say, “I wanted him to.”
“Gods.” My father’s voice shakes, and he rises abruptly. “I can’t bear any more of this tonight. Ixiana, you need rest. We’re safe here, well-guarded by our soldiers and the Prince’s men. Tomorrow we will continue on, and we’ll head straight for the border and the Prince’s palace. He wants you with him, Ixiana, so he can protect you. And he will likely want to move up the wedding. Once you two are married, you’ll be far out of this Warlord’s reach, safe under the protection of His Highness’s family.”
Fury and panic blazes along my nerves. I rise as well, ready to protest—but my sister interrupts. “Whatever you want to say, Ixie, it can wait until we’ve all had some sleep. Come along—you’ll share my room. There’s a bath heated for you. You’d best get into it before the water cools.”
She ushers me out, and I don’t resist. My mind is beginning to blur and my head is swimming—sure signs that my body has reached its limits. I’ve had a good meal, and once I’ve bathed and rested, I can attack my parents with the truth again—more effectively, maybe. I need a strategy, some way to convince them to at least meet with the Warlord and talk to him.
The bath is a sheer delight, as is the comfortable bed that I sink into afterwards. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Joss sits on the edge of the bed and strokes my hair, while my eyes close and my thoughts drift into darkness.
Deep in the night the darkness shifts, turning blue, beautiful, infinite.
And somewhere in that vast blue, I can hear the Warlord screaming.
60
My Warlord is roaring in pain. He’s close to blacking out from the intensity of it—I can feel him shifting in and out of the ether.
“Where are you?” I shriek. “Tell me where you are so I can help you!”
