The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Tenara paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. Instead of saying anything, she nodded. The words "you're welcome" felt strange in this instance, when all she'd done was give him a place to sit in the tiny cell her grandmother had reluctantly made him.

Tenara slipped into the bathroom. It was not an unfamiliar room to her. These were her chambers when she visited, and she did every few months or so and had since she was a little girl. First, she came with her parents, and then she came on her own. Well, as on her own as she could get as a princess, usually arriving on a Hajaran ship with Hajaran guards at her back, and her handmaid, Lel, and her advisor, Bora.

Tenara ran her hand over the bronze tub, looking longingly at the steaming water garnished with rose petals, oils, and lavender. She dragged her borrowed clothing over her head, and as she was stepping into the water, caught sight of herself in the gold-framed mirror. She stopped, taking her foot out of the bath and going to the mirror for a closer look.

She looked like death warmed over. Her cheeks were sunken, her hair was disheveled and tangled at the ends. She ran her hand over the rippled surface of her chest, along the ribs peeking out. Starved. She'd nearly starved to death. Her finger traced the scar running between her breasts, then up to the hollows of her collarbones and over her shoulders. She hadn't been this thin before. She looked angular and wrong. She turned her hands over, admiring the shimmering scars before she wrapped her arms around herself and hugged tight.

Safe.

She was safe again.

Tenara slipped down into the tub and submerged herself beneath the near-scalding liquid as if she could drown away a month's worth of brutality, starvation, and near-death experiences. She came up for air, disappointed that the lingering imprint of her misadventures did not wash away in the water.

Tenara emerged almost a half-hour later, finally dragging herself out of the now-cold water. Her silver hair was wet and combed, drawn back into a loose braid. She was dressed in a silk gown trimmed in delicate lace, with a thin, soft, linen robe drawn over her shoulders. The neckline of the gown dipped low enough to show the beginnings of that opalescent scar marking Thvoros’s entry into her world.

She crossed the room towards him, blowing out candles as she went until the only ones left were the ones on his side of the room. She frowned, appraising his torn clothes and bloodied form. He was so dirty, and he couldn't bathe or fix his attire until she made him corporeal again.

"In... everything that's happened, I didn't get a chance to talk to you about what you did..." She stepped around him for the candle-lit sconce on the wall. "Thank you for finding my father. I am... sorry he hurt you. I am sorry you are... trapped here." She didn't look at him. Instead, she stared at the dancing beads of flame. "I hope we can find your way home. If anyone can figure out how to undo what Edan did, it's Sinead. She's the most powerful sorceress in the world..." Tenara blew out the candles and went to the next sconce. She hesitated, biting her lip as if chewing on the words she didn't want to say. Finally, she faced him and met his eyes. "She isn't... like the women where you come from. Like those people in Arken. She's good... but protective."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi had setttled himself on the loveseat she'd set out for him, his back resting against one corner while his long legs splayed over the opposite side. He sat up when she addressed him, and watched her closely while she went about snuffing the candles. His eyes followed her form, and the idle thought came to him that she was beautiful. It had been difficult to notice, caked in blood and sand as they'd been the last few days. Not that it mattered. Many things were beautiful. It did not make them good. He pulled his eyes away and drew his attention back to her words.

She spoke of his safety, and not her own. As if she truly cared whether he was injured, or whether he felt safe here. He knew he was a fool for it, but he wanted to believe her. Her efforts to empathize with him seemed genuine, even though she had plenty of her own worries at hand.

He wasn't sure how he felt about what she seemed to have picked up on about the ways of his homeland. He found himself sifting through his memories to recall exactly what he'd told her about the world he came from so far. The last few days felt a bit blurry, or maybe that was just exhaustion dulling his mind. What had he given away, that she now felt compelled to reassure him of Sinead's intentions?

"I wonder if it's okay...to believe in you?" he said, watching her quietly. The question surprised him as soon as it left his lips. Even the very idea of attempting to trust someone seemed naive. Childish. Still, he found himself watching her, awaiting her response.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara appraised him with an unreadable expression. “I wonder the same about you…” She pursed her lips, words beating behind her teeth. She thought about the man he’d taken down in the bar and crushed to the floor as if he were nothing but a paper doll. “Are you dangerous? Should I fear you?”

[Soran Nightblade]

Hearing his question echoed back to him only reinforced how absurd it was. "...Yes. And, yes." His eyes met hers, their gold color warped by the red glow of Sinead's spell over his skin. "It is not my... desire to harm you. But it would also be foolish to offer you loyalty. If your beloved queen asks me to politely die to ensure your safety, I have no intention of complying. You should fear me."

[Emora Deen]

She frowned, but decided against prodding him with questions of how he thought he could possibly fight his way out of the predicament. Helpless beasts could often be dangerous and unpredictable when cornered or made aware of how tightly they were caged.

“And if it turns out we are stuck with each other?” She glanced to the sword resting on the bed. “If you can’t go home and I can’t be rid of your sword?”

[Soran Nightblade]

He pondered her suggestion for a moment, and his face went carefully blank. A half-life, unable to control any aspect of his existence. How long would he stay sane in such circumstances? A new thought occurred to him for the first time. His next Fever... it should be coming soon. If it came while he was still in this situation...

He shook his head. This world was so different, who knows if it would come at all. But if it did, there was no telling what he would do. "If this situation becomes permanent... you will find me extremely poor company," he said. It sounded like a threat, and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't one.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara's gaze darkened at the threat. "It won't be my fault if it's permanent. I can make it just as unpleasant for you as you can make it for me," she said, but wasn't certain if that were true. Tenara's heart was soft. She had been threatening as needed in order to survive, but the most violent thing she'd ever done by choice had been to kill the sorcerer who was trying to kill her.

"I'll guess we'll figure out where we stand in the morning. Good night," she said curtly, blowing out the last of the candles and plunging them into darkness. The pale glow of the moon filtered in through the large windows lining one wall. She crossed the room, shedding the linen robe and draping it over the foot of the bed. She drew back the heavy duvet and crawled into the welcoming cocoon of soft cotton, lying with her back to Thvoros.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon's nerves crawled as he lay still, the room now dark except the faint glow of Sinead's tracker spell on his body. He wanted to be angry with Tenara for her threat, but she'd only spoken the truth. In a way, it was a relief to find a crack in her kind facade. It would keep him from entertaining any more self-indulgent questions about 'trust' for a while. She's given him her answer, as he'd given his.

The night seemed to go on forever, and he was too on edge to sleep in this place. He was a prisoner, albeit a well treated one. But unlike Tenara's, his survival here was optional.

It was still well before dawn when a scratching sound came from the window outside. Something was scraping faintly on the stone wall, growing closer. Havitharon lay very still, listening closely. The sound was right outside the window now. He thought he could hear two sets of boots scuffing against the outside wall now, in addition to whatever metal tool was scraping.

The outsider rolled slowly from the couch, crouching out of view and watching the window closely.

"It's this one," a voice whispered outside the glass. A hand appeared in the windowsill and jimmied open the shutter latch. A male form pulled itself up into the frame and let himself into the room, his footfalls expertly silent.

"Is it clear?" came a second whisper from outside.

"Shit, wait," the first man hushed, gesturing to his partner. "There's someone here."

"What? There are no guests in the ledger today."

"Well someone's here, ledger or not."

"Did she see you?"

The first man edged toward Tenara's bed, studying her. "Sleeping."

"Then snuff her and let's get on with it. The guards change in five minutes.

The man pulled a butterfly knife from his belt and hovered over Tenara's form.

Havitharon lunged to his feet, snarling. The red aura around him grew brighter as he bolted toward the man. "Tenara!" he shouted, leaping across the magical barrier Sinead had erected. Instantly, the entire room was flashing with intense blue light.

"Holy... fuck!" the man with the knife staggered backwards as he saw Havitharon's glowing form charging him. Havitharon tried to punch the man in the chest, but only managed to slam himself into the wall. "Go, go, get out!" the intruder shouted to his partner, running for the window.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara had not been sleeping well, though she had been sleeping soundly. Her dreams were full of faceless people in Arken, and the sorcerer plunging his sword into her chest. The call of her name shook her awake. Startled eyes searched for the threat as her hands sought the sword she'd tucked between the sheets with her.

Escape couldn't have been that easy. Of course they wouldn't have let them leave? Had Elias, out of spite or anger, told someone about them when he went back to the inn and found them gone? She imagined the men in Rami's room emerging from the balcony door to drag her back into darkness—and she really did have to imagine them because she barely remembered the one face she'd been able to see. They were blurred horrors now. Just the thought of them brought back the acrid stench of the cloth over her face, and a month's worth of black space and blurred half-truths where memories should be.

She rolled, slinging the sword blindly towards the threat. She'd die. She'd die before someone put her under that deeply ever again. The room was a blaze with blue light and Thvoros's red form and the scurrying shadows by the window. She ran for the one signaling his friend to leave back through the window and charged him, slamming her shoulder into his back.

[Soran Nightblade]

The man choked out a curse, but still managed to be remarkably quiet as he staggered under the weight of the woman's attack. They had to be thieves, or trained assassins. His partner was in the window now, drawing a throwing knife from his sleeve. The man let Tenara shove him to the ground, and deliberately maneuvered her so his partner would have a clean shot.

Havitharon whirled on the man in the window and charged. It probably wouldn't work, but the alarmed urgency of the whole situation made him stupid enough to try it. He grabbed for the man's shoulders and tried to thrust himself into his mind. The red haze around him spread to the intruder's form, and then Havitharon's body disintegrated entirely in a mist of red sparks. The hand holding the throwing knife paused mid-throw, shuddering with some hidden effort.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara knelt over the one thief, her gaze on the other, with his throwing knife aimed menacingly at her. But then she saw Thvoros dive... into him. And he stopped‚ stiff as a board. The one beneath her rolled, slicing across her side and stomach, splitting silk and skin. Red flowed, darkening the pale gown as she fell over. It didn't heal. Not like when she cut herself with Thvoros's sword. It bled, spreading out over the gown while she scurried back, away from another arching slice.

They were in close proximity. Too close for Tenara to sling the sword and do any real damage. In a second, the thief was on her. She dragged her hand across the blade and pulled her power like yanking a cord. A bead of red light bloomed in her eyes as the thief arched the knife towards her throat, and then he stopped too. His hand shook, and the shake traveled up his arm. Tenara fell back against the floor, blue flames coiled around her hand as she lifted it into the air. Magic filled her, drowning out the cut's pain and replacing it with power and pleasure. The thief lifted off the ground, his mouth trapped in a silent scream. Her flared hand fisted, and there was an audible snap of bone, his legs and arms crooking unnaturally before he dropped to the floor.

[Soran Nightblade]

"Tomas! What did you do, you crazy bitch," the man in the window ground out, overpowering whatever Havitharon was doing inside him. He climbed the rest of the way in through the window and drew his knife back again, aiming it down at her.

"Stop."

As the word was spoken, a blast of white light hurled into the second thief's chest, blasting him back against the wall. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor as the man's skull crushed against the stone. The red haze around the man flickered out entirely as his body collapsed. "Tenara," Sinead said, rushing to her side. "Where are you hurt?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara's glowing gaze shifted from the crumpled man to Sinead. The red glare in her eyes faded, the black returning to her pupils. A quivering hand reached for the split skin across her middle.

Safe. This was supposed to be a safe place.

Her breath came quick. The magic was gone, and the pain was back. Pain and fear and...

"Thvoros," she murmured. She tried to sit up, but cried out, collapsing back onto the floor. "He..."

[Soran Nightblade]

Thvoros? The queen's gaze frosted over. If that outsider had anything to do with this... She glanced around, but saw no sign of him in the room with them.

Too late, her guards rushed into the room, quickly covering all the windows and exits. The whole thing had happened in a matter of seconds. "Shh. We will deal with him in a moment, sweetheart." Sinead drew Tenara carefully into her lap, pressing healing magic gently down against the center of her chest so it could flow through her. She flinched a little as she noticed an unfamiliar power pushing back at her from inside Tenara. "You have grown strong, granddaughter," she said carefully. "Try to let your defenses back for me."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara didn't want to let her defenses back. She didn't even know how, at this point. Tension coiled inside her, a rigid wall of defenses stacking higher and higher. She was not safe. Not ever. Not even here, in this place of solitude and familiarity. Would it be the same at home? Would she fear the corners of her own bedroom? Her city? Her people.

Tenara's eyes stung with tears. Fuck crying. Fuck tears. She hadn't any time for these feelings. She had to find Thvoros. Why? Why did she have to find him? He'd helped her. If he hadn't woken her, then they would have killed her or worst...

Tenara thought of the man who'd cut her and the sound his bones had made when she'd snapped them. She hadn't even thought... Her hand closed and he'd splintered... Gods. What was she?