Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (38 page)

As he looked into Marianne’s gentle brown eyes he once again wished he had chosen Alise to approach. Mari reminded him of a timid fawn. Alise would be able to handle his deception, but Mari? The concern in her eyes tugged at his heart. She stood before him, shy and perhaps a little fearful, but she had dared inquire because of his biting words. The mystery of her built inside him once again. How could one be so gentle by nature, so altruistic?

All his life he had been focused solely on himself. He had lived day in and day out by thinking of only Korin: how to survive, how to break free, how to deceive Ista, and how to deceive those who loved him. To find someone so opposite was extraordinary. Around Mari he felt like he was a speck of dust and she the mountain, he the weak soul and she the vibrant spirit. He deserved neither her kindness nor her worry. He was a creature sent from the Abyss; she was an angel sent from the Maker.

“No, Marianne, your father is exceptional to me. Have no fear. How are you?” he asked, growing more troubled as he continued to study her. “You look tired. Have you been able to rest?”

Mari bit her lip and glanced away, but not before he saw tears spring to her eyes. He wanted to reach for her, console her in some way, but he didn’t know how. All he had done was hurt his entire life. He was incapable of anything else.

“I don’t feel well, but I’m sure it will pass.”

Korin saw her lie. She didn’t think it would pass. His pulse raced as he thought about the depression Lorlier said ran in Marianne’s line. “What do you mean? Are you ill?”

Her fawn-like eyes flickered back to him. “No, at least I don’t think so. Oh, I shouldn’t be troubling you. Father told me you were studying to teach the men. Alise has the power you know.”

Korin shifted, disliking Mari’s sudden change of subject. “Yes. Lorlier thinks she may hurt herself by trying to learn too fast.”

Marianne smiled, transforming her face into something celestial. “She’ll try, but she’s strong. I don’t think a bolt of lightning could harm her.”

“Good morning to you both.”

Brice sauntered down the dimly lit corridor to begin his morning patrol of the grounds. Eternal damnation! If Korin didn’t ask Marianne to accompany him on his ride Brice would report back to Ista his dubious nature. Korin didn’t want to cause suspicion, especially at this critical time.

When he glanced back at Marianne, his heart melted. She looked so alone, and Lorlier did say to spend more time with her.

Brice stopped beside them and raised an eyebrow. “Are we riding together this morning?” Brice’s eyes held steady on Korin. Korin threw up his mask and tried to remain calm. Was Brice looking for something? Korin shoved the thought aside and turned to Marianne.

“If the lady will have me,” Korin said.

Marianne searched his eyes. She frowned as if not seeing what she wanted. Korin dropped his mask, fearful she would refuse, and took her hand.

He drew in a breath to say something, but as he stood holding her hand a warmth stole through him. He had never held someone’s hand, and Marianne’s slender hand closed around his as if it belonged there.

“Please,” he whispered. This time he let his feelings for her rise inside him until he could feel his face transform into someone he had always wanted to be.

Mari glanced away, face reddening. “It would be a pleasure.”

Brice moved on without another word. Korin watched him leave, his sense of foreboding rekindling, but Davis was with his pedagogues until that afternoon, hence safe from Brice’s hand.

When their horses were saddled, they rode in silence. The sun inched its way into the sky and the morning’s dew brought the wispy grass to life. The sparse trees of the fields shivered in the slight breeze and rained down an occasional mist.

The ride was bittersweet. He was where he wanted to be, in the position he wanted to be in, with the only person he wanted to be with, and yet everything was out of his reach. He couldn’t stay in Fest, he couldn’t stay in his position, and he would never be with Mari.

But the wind, the ride, the fantasy that he was just Korin, without the needles or his secrets, was something unexplainable, untouchable, and beautiful.

After a time his thoughts wandered back to Brice. Brice had acted strangely. It was almost as if the man had expected Korin to blatantly deny Ista’s wishes.

Did Ista know of his deception?

He thought back to what had occurred since leaving Zier. Ista hadn’t called him. Ista enjoyed summoning members of the Collective with the pain. Why hadn’t she summoned him?

He glanced at Marianne. Was it something to do with his relationship to Marianne and Lorlier? Korin’s mind spun, frantic to think of every possible scenario.

If Ista knew he held feelings for Lorlier’s family she would use it to her advantage. She would force him to do things by threatening the safety of Lorlier and his children. He felt the tendrils of Ista’s hold tighten. With sickening dread Korin realized Ista had more control of him now than she ever had before. He had inadvertently given Ista the one thing that would keep him alive: the threat of harming those he loved.

As Marianne slowed, Korin’s breath caught. Her long, brown hair had fallen loose of its clasp and cascaded around her shoulders in frantic disarray. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill breeze and her eyes shimmered with rare enthusiasm.

Korin swallowed past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He desperately wanted to reach over and bury his hands in her hair, pretend he was a normal man and she a normal woman. Korin turned away. He had to return to the keep. Mari would never be his.

Mari’s soft cry made Korin turn back. She had doubled over. Her face was clinched with pain.

Korin jumped off his horse and steadied her mount. “Mari?”

She blinked, eyes clearing. After another breath she straightened and shook her head. “It has passed now.”

He grabbed her hand, frantic for an answer. “What just happened, Mari?”

She looked at him with something between sorrow and apprehension. “I’ll tell you if you swear you won’t tell my father.”

“I swear on my sword, please.”

Marianne lifted her chin, as if warding off evil sprits. “I think I’m dying.”

A chill colder than the Watcher’s heart rushed through him. When he spoke his voice came out a harsh whisper. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Korin. My father would say it’s the depression that runs in my mother’s line. It’s not. I’ve always been shy, not depressed as my father thinks.”

“Marianne, stop talking like this,” Korin said, voice rising in a panic. “You’re scaring me.”

Marianne turned her uneasy gaze his way. What he saw in her eyes seared his heart. Korin threw down the reins, giving the mare freedom to chop the lush grass, and helped Mari out of the saddle, leading her to a path that veered into the surrounding trees. There was an enclave a short distance down the path where he often went to think. Korin always felt the place wrapped him in a gentle embrace, sympathizing with him when he was melancholy and laughing with him when he felt joy.

He had never felt an embrace of a woman. He knew the enclave was the closest thing he would ever have to one.

They walked in silence. He hadn’t let go of Mari’s hand, and she hadn’t taken it away. It felt so small in his own, so vulnerable. His very existence was a threat to Marianne and her family. Ista would use his love against him. It would be better if he just ended the fight and gave into death, but walking with Marianne stirred dreams inside him once again.

A smile lit Marianne’s face as he led her into the small enclosure, chasing all signs of uneasiness from her countenance. She put a hand to her lips. “Korin! How did you find this place?”

Despite the circumstances, Korin grinned. It was beautiful. The towering rocks formed the shape of a horseshoe. A low ledge curved along one side, forming a natural seat. Purple and red wildflowers lined the rocks’ edge, and creeping moss stole over the tops of the gray stone, careening down the interior sides, giving each rock a unique personality.

Marianne picked some flowers and placed them behind her ear. She was incredible. She looked better in disarray than she did dressed for a ball. When she turned to look at him she quickly turned away when she found his eyes on her. He could sense her nervousness, but his voice wouldn’t come. Her fists clinched before she turned back. Although her eyes held a hint of fear, she started to hum and held out her hand for a dance.

“Marianne, I don’t know how to dance, and we need to talk.”

She clasped his hands and leaned into him. She began to sway.

Heat exploded inside him. He became disoriented. As her head dropped to his shoulder the scent of her drifted to him, causing his feelings to rise to the surface.

Everything became vivid: the wildflowers in his peripheral vision, the sun’s rays dancing on the rocks, Marianne’s hair tickling his chin, the soft breeze, the sun-warmed enclosure, the heat of his own body, and her soft humming, sending a low rumble inside his chest, chasing away all cares and memories.

He became just a man holding the person he loved. He would give his life for her. He would do anything to keep her from harm.

His head drooped. His eyes closed. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.

“You’re dancing,” she whispered.

He supposed he was. They were moving in rhythm. Her hips swayed under his touch, but slowly, so slowly. Before he knew what he was doing he grabbed a handful of her hair, brought it to his lips and kissed it.

It even tasted sweet.

His arms encircled her, drawing her closer. Her hand slid down to his waist. The cadence of a sparrow’s song made him realize she had stopped humming.

A burst of sun-warmed wind gusted past, twirling the scent of wildflowers around them. Marianne tightened her grip. With sudden insight he realized she needed him just as much as he needed her. He reacted on instinct. Drawing her head from his shoulder, he found her lips.

His entire world exploded. She was so perfect, so innocent, and so beautiful. He couldn’t get close enough. Everywhere he touched, he brought her closer. He wanted to make her feel everything she allowed him to feel. Moving his lips from her face, he kissed her neck and shoulders, marveling at their smoothness. Her hands burnt a trail of fire over his flesh. He was ravenous for her touch.

She whispered his name. He answered. Nothing else in the world mattered but her.

“Oh, Korin, you meant it.” The pleading in her voice stopped him. His vision cleared. They were on the ground, surrounded by wildflowers, clinging to each other. Her smock was almost off, buttons torn.

The trust in her eyes terrified him.

He bounded to his feet and turned away. The entrapment of his life, the solitude and the lies tightened their hold once again. “I’m sorry, Mari. Oh, may the Maker forgive me.”

How could he! He was a vile creature who had killed to avoid pain, who was only in Fest because of an order, and who may not be alive the next day.

He was hurting the one thing he swore he would never harm. Marianne didn’t know him. She would be appalled to discover his true nature, and she would be crushed if he had to take his life.

When he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, he turned to face her. The broken look in her eyes was too much for him to bear. She didn’t understand his withdrawal, and there was nothing he could do to explain his reaction.

“You don’t.” It was a simple statement, but the weight in her voice hung in the air like lead. Korin watched her face go through a variety of emotions: first it was confirmation, then disappointment, and finally despair. He didn’t understand. He tried to grasp her words but they evaded him, something about him not meaning …

He grabbed her wrist before she turned. The pain in her eyes would torment him for the remainder of his days.

“I love you.” His voice broke with his words, but the conviction in his tone left no room for doubt. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. Don’t ever doubt my love for you, Marianne. It’s unending.”

Tears rained down upon her breast, but they fell out of elation. He didn’t know how to feel. Part of him wanted to embrace what was happening but another part told him to hold back. He was the spawn of the lower plains, she of the upper. The twain would never meet.

“But why?” She turned a furtive glance to the crushed wildflowers at her feet.

Korin cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him once again. “No,” he said, searching her face, making sure she understood. “I want you. I want you more than anything in this life. But it can’t be. I’m no prince. Even if I were I’d be unworthy of you. You don’t know me, Marianne. I’m not what you see. You wouldn’t want me if you knew my life.”

She placed a hand on his chest. “Yes, I would.” Her smock fell open. Korin quickly closed it again.

“This isn’t right. You’ll marry a prince and you’ll regret anything that happens between us. You deserve so much more than me, so much more than anything I could possibly give you.”

Marianne lifted her chin. “You’re more than you know, Korin. Even my father says so. And I love you.”

Korin’s knees gave way. He staggered backwards until he hit the rock wall of the enclosure, sliding down the warm stone until he rested on the ground. His heart pounded so hard he knew she could hear it. He rested his face in his hands and tried hard to hold onto his emotions. He couldn’t. They were a torrent of pure, chill water welling inside him, cleansing his soul.

He reached for her, pulling her to him, clinging to the fountain that had purified his spirit. He buried his face in her chest and savored the experience, relishing the feel of her but knowing it could never be.

His life had been worth nothing. Now she had made everything worthwhile. Korin set his jaw, determined to end the pain Ista planned for Lorlier’s family.

“I can’t tell you what those words mean to me,” he said.

Marianne’s eyes filled with tears.

“What is it?” Korin whispered.

“I just want you to know me, to be able to remember me.”