The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Tenara flinched a little. She’d been thinking the same thing but the ease with which he admitted it drove the notion home. Though she was certain what he’d said in the tavern was part of their ruse, the words had enough certainty and casualness behind them that he must have seen his fair share of dealings in flesh. Of course he’d understand…

She swallowed. The idea made her heart race and that only served to make her malnourished form dizzy again. She shoved the fear down into a small place in her heart.

It was just a body. Just sex. Rami had done it for years, even boasting that he loved his line of work. She’d tried to convince him to come into the palace, to work there so they could see each other with ease, and he’d refused because he liked the Indigo House and the freedom it offered.

But the Indigo House was warm and opulent and comforting—as much as a brothel could be. And she was thinking of taking some random man on the cold street…

The image of Elias pushing his tea across the table towards her—explaining how she should drink it because she couldn’t be certain what had happened to her while she was unprotected and unconscious and alone on the privateer’s ship—sprouted in her mind.

At least this time it could be her choice.

“I know,” she said, keeping her gaze on the street because she couldn’t bare to look at him. “I just need to work myself up to it.”

Survive. Get home. Wash it all away in the Ongore Sea.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon looked a bit confused, but said, "If you're uncomfortable, I will do the talking. The spell seems to have worked well enough for people to understand me."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head. “I can do it.” She didn’t want him bartering her for real. It was one thing for him to do it as a ploy to find her father, it was another thing for him to actually pimp her out—even if his intentions seemed noble. She didn’t want him all tangled up in her emotional baggage if it turned out not to be as simple as Rami had always made it seem.

“When we find the right time, I’ll let you know. Then we can get a hot meal and a warm bed. I don’t think it will be enough for two beds, so I hope you don’t mind sharing. We can put pillows between us…”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon waved a hand. She seemed very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Was she rhat nervous about sharing a room with him. "The floor is sufficient. Or I can stay nearby outside, if you prefer that."

They turned a corner and came up on a well lit building with many voices inside. "Maybe here."

[Emora Deen]

“It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing a room with you. I… trust you.” She wasn’t entirely certain she did, but… she wanted to. She needed to. Because she was adrift in a foreign place and full of fear and needed something to anchor her, and—whether he liked it or not—she’d chosen him. Well, actually, he’d been thrust upon her—or into her, if you counted the sword that had pulled him into the world by going through her sternum.

She sighed and stepped into the warm-lit space, chatter spilling out into the air as the door opened.

She paused just inside, looking at all the merry faces and picking out a lonely looking man at the bar. He was pushing an empty glass back and forth, waiting for the bartender to come back to refill it. A heavy purse hung on his belt. He had money and a slight drunkenness to his features. He didn’t seem cruel but that was hard to tell by just looking at someone.

Tenara locked her legs to keep her knees from shaking.

“Okay. Thvoros, wait here. I’ll be right back. It shouldn’t take very long…” She slipped away from Thvoros and went to the man.

She spoke to him, but the room was too loud with chatter so the words stayed close to the man’s ear. He smiled at her. Picked up a lock of silver hair. She flinched but then righted herself. Said a few more words until the man nodded. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a few coins, taking her hand and dropping them into her palm. She covered them with her fingers and held them tight as he took her wrist and guided her towards the back of the bar and a narrow, dark hall. She didn’t glance back at Thvoros. She couldn’t.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon charged across the room when he noticed the man start to leave with her. Something didn't seem right. And why was she going with him alone? He caught up to them in the hallway and grabbed her other wrist, pulling them both to a stop. "That's far enough. The transaction can be done right here."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head fiercely at Thvoros, the color draining from her already pale face. “No.”

“Sure, man. If that’s your thing,” the guy said, releasing her wrist and grabbing her hips. She stifled a yelp when he pushed her forward, over a line of barrels along the hall. She clutched the coins he’d given her in her now freed hand so tightly the skin whitened and her joints ached. She turned her face away from Thvoros and clenched her eyes as the man’s hands raked her skirts up, trying to ignore Thvoros’s grip on her arm or the trapped feeling spreading through her chest.

She thought of sun and sand and starlight. Of home. It was just a body. Just a moment. Just a blip in the long line that would be her life once she made it home. Home. Get home.

[Soran Nightblade]

The man's greedy voice shifted instantly to a pained shriek as a heavy force threw him sideways. He tumbled to the floor, grasping at Tenara's skirts like they might balance him. Havitharon's tall form was on top of him instantly. He dropped his knee down hard between the man's legs and pinned his throat down to the floor with a broad hand. His other hand clapped over the man's mouth, stifling his screams from the people in the other room. The man clawed and squirmed against the Outsider's grip, trying equally to protect his throat and his groin, but Havitharon's grip was made of stone.

His gold eyes flared back at Tenara, wide and angry.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara pushed off the barrel, clutching the rim of it because she felt if she let go she’d collapse to the floor. Her legs shook violently, the coil of fear and anticipation exploding in a rush of sweeping, dizzying adrenaline.

She hated the look in his eyes, the shame it drove into her heart. He didn’t understand. She thought he would, but he didn’t. She opened the hand with the coins, showing him what the man had paid her. Her hand shook so badly that a few rattled between her fingers and clattered to the floor.

“It’s okay,” she said, the confidence not reaching her voice. Her eyes glazed with tears. “It’s okay. I can do it.”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon stared at her, confusion warring with his anger. "We're here to sell one of the gems off the sword...yes? If he already paid you, we're leaving." He waited for her answer, even though the situation was already piecing itself together against his will. She wasn't really about to...

[Emora Deen]

She blinked at him. “A gem off…” He wanted to sell something off the sword?? Her cheeks darkened, a flood of embarrassment choking her and making her want to flee to the shadows.

“We… can’t sell those,” she said. The thought of selling a part of the sword, the sword, or the book he carried hadn’t crossed her mind. Those were… his. She was almost certain the sword itself was him, in some way—though he might not have realized it yet. He was bound to it some how, and pulling a piece off of it to sell felt like chopping off one of his limbs. “It might hurt you…”

[Soran Nightblade]

"Who gives a damn? Why should it even-..." He snarled, too upset to deny that he thought she might be right about the sword. He ground his knee a little harder against his thrashing prisoner just for the satisfaction of hearing him scream. "You're half dead. Are you an idiot?!

[Emora Deen]

Her head cocked as if his words had slapped her. “Idiot? You wanted to sell a jewel off an object directly tied to you. What if you lost your corporealness or an eye or disappeared altogether?!” She wasn’t certain if she was shaking from fear or anger anymore, or if her body was just deciding to shut down. “And what does it matter to you? At least I’d get something for what was taken of me this time.” She angrily wiped away a tear that had the nerve to slide down her cheek.

[Soran Nightblade]

Her words made him nervous. It was the first time she'd mentioned her feelings on being strapped with that sword, and with him. So far, he had only seen her adapt to whatever happened to her and survive by moving forward. He assumed his presence was one more thing she'd adapted to endure. Was she actually holding some sort of sentiment for him? Or did she resent him? Did it matter?

He raked a clawed hand through his hair in frustration while the man under him whimpered. "You trust too quickly. In the state you're in, I could snap your neck as easily as this waste of flesh could have just snapped your soul. Don't do such a thing in some attempt to protect me. We are not friends. We're barely allies!"

[Emora Deen]

“I wasn’t doing it for you!” She threw the money at him. “I have barely eaten in a month! I’m hungry and tired and scared. I’ve been abused and nearly killed to bring you into this world!” She jerked the sword off her shoulders and shook it at him. “I’m quite certain if you could carry this shitty sword for any length of time you’d leave me in the dark for the monsters that conjured you.”

She was hurt. She wasn’t sure why his words hurt. Maybe because she had hoped that they were allies. He wasn’t wrong. She had begun to want to trust him, to hope that they were in this together. But he was just using her to carry his body around for him.

Tenara thrust the sword at him. She didn’t care how she was connected to it, or how she felt compelled to carry it because she was drawn to the sword like moths to light, or if it was tangled up in her magic somehow, she didn’t want to carry it anymore. “Carry your own fucking sword.”