Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

“They’re spreading out in both directions,” he said. “Trying to find a way around the flame.”

Senneth nodded. She gathered her fingers into points and stretched her arms wide, extending the wall of fire another quarter mile on each side, another half mile. It was taking all her energy, all her strength, but she could enclose the entire Hall in a circle of flame if she had to. “Where are our reinforcements now?” she asked in a tight voice.

“Another half an hour away. The battle on the inside is nearly won-only a few attackers are still fighting for their lives.”

“Tell the others to gather at the edges of the fire and await any who try to break through.”

She could hear what was almost a smile in Donnal’s voice, though she couldn’t break her concentration enough to look at him. “Tayse has already organized them to do so. He wants to know how long you can hold the wall?”

“Till dawn, if necessary.”

“I don’t think the fight will last that long,” Donnal said. A rustle, a shadow; he had changed and flown away.

Senneth stood where he had left her, spine stretched up, head tipped back, arms still spread as wide as they would go, and fed her soul to the fire. She was alive with magic; a liquid fever careened through her veins. Her fingertips were candlewicks, and flames danced at the end of each one. Each individual strand of her hair was on fire; her eyebrows had been singed. There was nothing in the world except heat and energy and rage. Noises had fallen away, time had ceased to pass or matter. She was an elemental in a primitive state, and she could burn forever.

It was Tayse’s voice that brought her back to a sense of humanity, a sense of self. “Senneth,” he named her, his voice both compelling and soft. “Senneth. Drop your arms. Let the fire die. We have vanquished them. The Hall is safe.”

He said the whole speech three times before his words actually registered. Slowly she opened her eyes, tilted her head forward, allowed her arms to fall to her sides. Instantly, the fire went out. Just as instantly, she was flooded with a multitude of pains. Her back ached, her arms were sore, and Bright Mother of the burning sky, her head hurt so badly she thought it might shatter. She looked around in wonderment a moment, orienting herself. Still daylight, though the sun was low on the horizon. Before her, a scattering of charred and broken bodies littered the ground. Behind her, a grim and efficient cleanup was under way, as servants and soldiers moved through the dead and wounded, searching for friends, carrying away the bodies of enemy and comrade alike.

“What were our costs?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“More than seventy dead. Mostly Danalustrous men, though a few Brassenthwaite soldiers fell in the defense. The assailants lost four times that number and eventually retreated. Some of Malcolm’s soldiers are pursuing.”

She put a shaky hand up to the back of her neck. Every small movement was agony. Her bones felt brittle and scored by heat. Surely someone had taken a chisel and hammered a thousand holes in her skull. “Who attacked? Could he tell?”

“It appears to be the work of three malcontent vassal lords who had been left out of the negotiations to inherit property outright.” He shrugged. “Now their sons and daughters will inherit nothing but shame.”

He took her arm and she leaned on him heavily as he escorted her back toward the manor house. So many bodies-such a dreadful sight on Malcolm Danalustrous’s well-manicured lawns. “Tell them,” she said. “If they gather up the bodies, I can make a pyre.”

“I think they can make a pyre of their own with more traditional methods,” he said firmly. “You need to rest. You look the color of ash-gray and white. And just as likely to disintegrate.”

“My head hurts,” she said.

“I’ll help you as soon as we get to the room.”

They came upon a pile of fallen bodies; no easy task to pick a way through. Tayse simply lifted Senneth up and carried her around them. She knew she should protest that she was perfectly fine, but she felt utterly dreadful. She leaned her head against his shoulder and listened to the rumble of his voice from deep in his chest. “Your brother is anxious to make sure all is well in Brassenthwaite. He plans to set out for home first thing in the morning.”

“We should leave for Ghosenhall tonight,” she muttered.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” he said. “If your headache is better.”

She wanted to lift a hand to rub her temple, but she couldn’t make the effort. “It’ll take us almost a week to get back.”

“We might be able to push that.”

“I wish we hadn’t come!”

They were almost at the broad, gracious front entrance of the manor, just now stained with blood and piled high with discarded weaponry. Tayse bent to kiss her gently on the forehead. “You saved the Hall,” he said. “They all might be dead if you had not been here.”

That silenced her for the whole trek through the foyer, up the stairs, and down the corridor to their room. There was no fire in the grate and the air was cool, for which Senneth was grateful. Her skin was still heated; her pulse was too high, too fast, too thick.

Tayse settled on the bed beside her, arranging her so that her back was to his chest but she was leaning away from him. On their very first journey together, he had learned the trick of chasing away her headaches. No one else had the physical strength or reach to command all the pressure points at once. Now, very gently, he placed the thumb of one hand on a bone partway down her spine. With the other hand, he cupped the back of her neck. Senneth braced her fists against the bed.

“I’m ready,” she said.

His hand closed around her neck; his thumb bored into her back. She gasped with a sensation that was both pain and the cessation of pain. It was as if his hands were as ferocious and unbreachable as her own wall of fire. It was as if they made a barrier that misery could not cross. Still, the suffocating hold was difficult to endure. She invariably had spectacular bruises the day after a cure like this, but the alternative was three days or more of migraine.

“All right-enough,” she breathed, and he slowly released her. They both waited in silence a moment to see if the pain would come washing back, but Senneth felt nothing now except hollow exhaustion. “I think that’s done it. What a gift you have for healing me.”

“The gift I treasure most,” he said solemnly. His hand pushed her down so she was lying on the bed. “Sleep now. I’ll go hear the councils of war.”

“I need to talk to Kirra,” she said drowsily.

“I’m sure she’ll be by as soon as she’s taken care of details of her own.”

“And my dress is covered with blood.”

“You can take it off later. Sleep now.” He leaned over and brushed his mouth across hers. The light kiss made her smile. She was asleep before he left the room.

ITwas full dark when Senneth woke, feeling physically refreshed but emotionally drained. Sitting up cautiously, to make sure no pain woke up with her, she touched a few of the candles on the bedside table, and light wavered through the room. A glance at the fire sent the coals leaping with fire. Sweet gods, she was filthy. And starving.

She had changed into a more comfortable-and much cleaner-shirt and trousers, and was washing her face in the basin, when a quiet knock sounded on the door. “I’m up,” she called, and Tayse, Kirra, and Donnal filed in. Kirra was carrying a tray of food. “Oh, you most thoughtful girl,” Senneth said, immediately pulling up a chair beside a small table. “I was thinking about chewing some firewood, I was so hungry.”