Unbound

  It’s his fault—if he hadn’t given me that tickle-teaser I never would have been so bad! Never would have done those things, she thought mutinously.

  Her anger and fear and guilt got the best of her. Lifting her chin, she glared at him.

  “I order you to move and let me pass, slave,” she said in her best “I am a royal princess so you’d better obey” voice.

  Varin’s bronze eyes widened…then narrowed. He looked about to speak but then he simply shook his head and stood to one side.

  “As my Mistress wishes.” His deep voice was cold, with none of the humor she’d come to know and love and his face was as blank and impersonal as the metal mask he’d been wearing the first time she saw him.

  Brynn took one look at him and rushed past him, running into her chamber and slamming the door behind her before she threw herself on the bed and cried.

  Later…much later…she got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. The girl in the viewer had pale cheeks and a guilty look in her big, gray eyes as though she’d been caught stealing or swearing…or abusing herself.

  Brynn felt miserable but she knew who to blame for that and it wasn’t the huge warrior standing guard outside her door.

  It wasn’t Varin’s fault, what I did, she admitted to herself ruefully. He was trying to help me and I treated him like dirt—like a slave. I should apologize.

  Apologizing was something she didn’t see much of at the palace. Lords and Ladies and especially royals never admitted a fault—it was unheard of. Yet, at the convent she’d been taught humility along with guilt. And now she found she couldn’t leave either one behind, though she’d thought—for a time—that she might.

  Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair and looked at herself in the viewer. Yes, apologize—that was what she would do.

  But what does he think of me after what he saw? She didn’t know—didn’t want to know—but her fear and shame in facing him didn’t mean she could duck her responsibility.

  Going to the door of her chamber, she opened it and looked out. Varin was standing there as always, his jaw set, his eyes facing straight ahead. He wasn’t looking at her at all. Brynn had made almost no noise opening the door but somehow she knew he was aware of her anyway.

  “Varin?” she said in a small voice, looking up at him. “Varin, can…can I talk to you?”

  He simply stood there without answering, just as he had on the first night she’d dared to approach him.

  “Varin?” she said again, going out to stand in front of him.

  Still he looked straight ahead—it was as though someone had carved him out of rock.

  “Varin, please,” she whispered. “I…I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you a slave.”

  “Why not, Mistress?” he rumbled, still looking straight ahead. “It is what I am—what I have always been and will always be. Just your slave, nothing more.”

  “Then…then you never want to be friends anymore?” Brynn felt tears rising in her eyes but she tried to push them back down.

  He said nothing.

  I’ve lost him, Brynn thought. I’ve hurt him and now he hates me. I’ve lost my only friend.

  “Varin,” she whispered. “I…I’m so s-sorry. I never meant…I…” A sob choked her and she couldn’t go on. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again and turned to flee back to her chamber.

  “Wait.” His deep voice stopped her before she could open the door. “Wait a minute, little one.”

  The tender nickname made her pause and look back hopefully. “Yes?” she whispered.

  “Come here.”

  He made a motion and Brynn went to stand before him once more, twisting her fingers together and looking down at the little rounded toes of her slippers, peeping out from beneath her dress.

  “No, not like that—look at me,” Varin insisted.

  “I can’t. Not…not after what I did,” Brynn whispered. “I just…can’t.”

  He blew out a breath.

  “Look, Princess, I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse than ‘slave’ in this palace since your father bought me. It won’t kill me to hear it one more time.”

  “But it wasn’t just that—although that was mean enough,” Brynn protested. “It was…” She cleared her throat, feeling a hot, miserable blush rise to her cheeks. “It was what I did…and how…how I let you see me doing it.” She risked a glance up at him. “You, uh, did see me, didn’t you?”

  “Actually, when I dreamed of you today I saw…” He frowned, shaking his head.

  “You saw what?” Brynn looked up at him again. His face was dark and worried looking.

  “I can’t explain it exactly but it wasn’t the usual dream. It wasn’t something you’d done or something you were doing. Unless—did you go walking in the flower gardens with your ladies today?”

  “No.” Brynn shook her head. “We stayed inside and did needlepoint until I thought my fingers were going to fall off. It was miserable.”

  “All right.” He nodded. “Because in my dream, the bunch of you were walking in the gardens and then, suddenly, a dark shadow fell over you—you and Amalthia.”

  “A shadow?” Brynn frowned. “Like a cloud passing over the sun?”

  “Not exactly…” He frowned. “I can’t explain it but I woke reaching for my sword. It felt like a threat.”

  “Oh…” Brynn put a hand to her mouth. “That’s so scary—especially after the dream I had last night!”

  “You need to be careful—especially any time I’m not with you,” Varin told her sternly. “There have been strange rumors lately—talk about alien scout ships from another sector. I heard the Master of Ships discussing it with the Minister of War the other day when they were down at the Arena placing wagers.”

  “Do you think…think something bad is going to happen?” Brynn asked softly.

  “I don’t know…but I do know I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from whatever comes, Princess.” He gave her a gentle look. “Try not to be worried. I’ll be right outside your door keeping guard all night. And I’m going to try to be assigned to you during the day too—I want to be as near as possible all the time if something’s going to happen.”

  “You’d do that for me? Even after what I did?” Brynn blurted.

  He frowned. “I will always protect you, no matter what. And I told you, I am a slave—it doesn’t matter that you called me what I am.”

  “It matters to me,” Brynn said softly. “Because I also call you friend and that’s much more important. But…” She bit her lip. “That wasn’t exactly what I was talking about.”

  “What then?” He looked honestly mystified.

  “I mean…what I did, um, last night,” Brynn clarified. “I…I was…when I was using the…” She shook her head, feeling miserable all over again. Her unhappy expression clearly registered with the big Kindred.

  “You mean when you used the tickle-teaser?” he asked, at last catching on. “Is that why you were so upset this morning?”

  “Of course it is!” Brynn burst out. “Do you know what they called that at the convent? Self abuse. And I…I did it over and over and over again.”

  “I know,” he said dryly. “I could hear you.”

  “Goddess above! Was I that loud?” Brynn felt like she wanted to sink into the stone flagstones of the floor with embarrassment.

  “You were pretty loud,” Varin admitted. “But there was no one to hear but me. And I have to admit…” One corner of his sensuous mouth curled up. “I kind of enjoyed hearing it. Sounded like you were having a lot of fun in there.”

  “But…so you don’t think I’m awful? I mean for…”

  “For having a little fun? For giving yourself pleasure? Hell no, little one. I told you—the Goddess gave us our equipment for a reason.”

  “But I…you told me to go under the covers,” Brynn felt compelled to confess. “But I didn’t. I…I took them off. And then I lifted my nightdress too. I…” She bit
her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. “I wanted you to see me…to see what I was doing,” she admitted at last.

  “Gods…” His voice was a low, interested growl. “I wondered about that.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t see me in your dream today, though,” Brynn said.

  “No, but I did have a vision of you last night.” He ducked his head down to meet her eyes with his own. “You were beautiful, little one—lying there so open and naked in the moonlight.”

  “And…you don’t think I’m awful now?” she whispered.

  “Why would I? I’m the one who gave you the damn tickle-teaser in the first place,” he growled. “What would give you the idea I’d think you were awful for using it?”

  “I don’t know,” Brynn admitted. “The things the Sisters said at the convent, mostly. That touching yourself was wrong…but doing…doing things with a male was even worse.”

  “But they wouldn’t tell you what things you weren’t supposed to do, right?” He shook his head disgustedly. “Fucking ridiculous. Did they really call it ‘self abuse’ when you touched yourself?”

  Brynn nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well then, little one—you abused the Seven Hells out of yourself last night.” His eyes went sleepy with amusement and he rumbled with laughter.

  “Varin!” She slapped his arm, only half faking the blow. “Seriously—I’ve felt awful all day wondering what you must think of me for…for putting on a show like that!”

  The glint of amusement left his face and his bronze eyes went serious.

  “I thought you were beautiful, Princess. Beautiful and wild and free. Look at me…” He lifted her chin with his fingers, though Brynn knew it must hurt him to do so because of his obedience band.

  She looked up at him reluctantly. “Yes?”

  “Don’t let guilt stand in the way of getting what you want—what you need, little one,” he rumbled. “I don’t believe the Goddess meant us to never use the parts of our body she made for pleasure. And I don’t believe you did anything wrong last night. You were just exploring yourself a little, is all—nobody knows but you and me and I don’t think any less of you for it. So no harm done, all right?”

  “All right,” Brynn said reluctantly. But she thought just the same that it would probably be a while before she was able to push the guilt aside long enough to use the tickle teaser again.

  “Go to bed,” Varin told her gently. “You’re all worn out from feeling miserable and guilty all day. Get a good night’s sleep and things will look better in the morning.”

  “All right. Thank you, Varin. For everything.” She smiled at him, feeling like a huge, heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The Sisters at the convent had made self pleasure seem like such a weighty, awful subject. But to Varin, it was just “having a little fun.” His casual attitude helped take some of the deadly guilt away. It made Brynn think that maybe she’d be able to sleep after all.

  “Anything for my Mistress,” he murmured, his eyes seeming to glow in the dim light of the corridor.

  Impulsively, Brynn hugged him, making sure that none of her bare skin was touching his. Varin seemed caught off guard at first but then his big arms came around her, pressing her close to his chest, though she was so much shorter than him her head didn’t even come up to his shoulder.

  “It’s all right, little one,” he murmured soothingly. “Tomorrow is going to be better—you’ll see.”

  Brynn was sure he was right…but the next day was when it happened…

  Chapter Ten

  They were walking in the gardens when it happened—not because Brynn wanted to, but because Amalthia had insisted on going there to find some pink bloomies to match her dress for the upcoming ball.

  Brynn hadn’t wanted to go. Remembering Varin’s dream, she protested that she’d rather stay in and do needlework—although honestly if she never saw another piece of needlework again it would be too soon. But the sense of dread she’d gotten from the big Kindred’s dream—and her own awful nightmare—were too strong to be denied. She did not want to go to the gardens.

  It didn’t matter to Amalthia what Brynn wanted, however.

  “I would think you would want to find some flowers to match your gown too, Princess,” she said pointedly. “Or no wait—there aren’t any gray flowers.” She giggled nastily and the other ladies in waiting did too—following her lead.

  “I don’t need any flowers,” Brynn said, ignoring the insult. “I’m going to stay here in the palace.”

  “By yourself?” Amalthia squealed, as though being alone was some kind of a weird, socially unacceptable habit.

  “Why not?” Brynn lifted her chin. “We had to spend meditation time by ourselves every day at the convent. I don’t mind being alone.”

  “It’s a good thing you don’t because that’s exactly what you’ll be at the ball.” Amalthia’s eyes flashed meanly.

  Part of Brynn wanted to quail but she refused to turn tail and run.

  “Has it ever occurred to you, Lady Amalthia,” she said, doing her best to look down at the much taller girl. “That my father might marry me to someone quite close? Maybe even someone who’ll take over the rulership of Galen one day?”

  “I…ah…” Amalthia looked at her uncertainly.

  “Which would make me the Queen,” Brynn pointed out, frowning at the other girl. “And what do you think a queen who’s extremely unhappy with one of her ladies in waiting might do?”

  “But…that could never happen. Because the Crown Prince…he…they…” Amalthia turned pale and for a moment Brynn thought she had the other girl on the run. Then two bright spots of color appeared on Amalthia’s cheeks and she glared at Brynn.

  “I don’t know what an unhappy queen might do but I certainly know what an unhappy princess does,” she snapped. “She gets just a little too close to her slave.”

  “What?” Brynn suddenly felt like her stomach had dropped. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Princess! Don’t pretend you don’t!” Amalthia pointed a finger at her triumphantly. “I saw you hugging that huge, horrid Kindred of yours last night. Saw you hugging a slave of all things! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  Brynn felt sick. She’d been so sure that no one had seen her and Varin. How much did Amalthia know? How long had she been spying?

  “I…I don’t know what you mean,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake too much. “You’re lying.”

  “No, Princess—you’re the one who’s lying. And if you don’t come out to the gardens with me right now and help me find the perfect bloomies for my dress, I’m going to go to your royal father and tell him everything I saw. Everything,” she emphasized.

  Oh, Goddess above! Brynn felt like she might be sick or faint or both. What if Amalthia made good on her threat? How much did she know? Did she know about the tickle-teaser? That Brynn and the Big Kindred saw each other in their dreams? Or had she simply seen them hugging the night before?

  She didn’t know and there was no way to find out without exposing herself further.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she said, trying to sound casual. “But if you’re that set on finding the perfect flowers, we can go.”

  “You should find the perfect flowers too—for your deflowering,” Amalthia said snidely.

  That word again. It bothered Brynn but not nearly as much as her worry about Amalthia tattling to the King about Varin.

  She ignored the other girl’s taunt and wandered out of the palace casually, headed for the gardens as though she was simply taking a stroll in the pleasant, sunny weather. But inside her heart was pounding like a piston. Gods and Goddess above—what was she going to do?

  The other ladies in waiting, who had been watching her exchange with Amalthia with wide eyes, were whispering again. Brynn wondered miserably what gossip they would be spreading next. And all because Amalthia was nosy and nasty and mean for no good reason!
/>
  She cast a glance of pure rage at the other girl. Because of her, the King might find out about her bond with Varin. And if he took the big Kindred away from her…

  Brynn felt sick at the thought. Although she had known the huge warrior such a short time, their connection felt extraordinarily deep and strong. The idea of losing him now made her feel as though someone had casually suggested cutting off her hand. She could live without it, certainly—but her life would never be the same.

  I wish something awful would happen to you! she thought, glaring at her head lady in waiting as she ran giggling through the gardens, filled with flowering plants and bushes and trees. I wish you’d get stung by a honey-tick so that your whole face swells up and you can’t go to the ball!

  The nasty thought surprised and shocked her a little, but she couldn’t quite make herself regret it. Insults she could forgive and get over by the dozen. But the idea that Amalthia’s tattling might separate her from the one person she cared about in this whole stupid palace, made her feel half-crazy with anger and worry.

  “Here’s a nice bunch of bloomies!” Amalthia exclaimed, going over to a bush with dark blue leaves and bunches of tiny bright pink and purple flowers all clustered together. “They’re just exactly the color off my—”

  Suddenly a shadow fell over her and the air was filled with a low, ominous buzzing sound.

  What in the world?

  Brynn looked up and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Diving toward them—toward Amalthia—was a huge black and red thing.

  It looked a little like an insect—but who ever heard of an insect as big as a man? It swooped down, its segmented body blocking out the sun for a moment and then its long, sleek abdomen, black striped with blood red, curled under and Brynn saw a barbed stinger as long as her forearm extending from it.

  The rest of the ladies in waiting were running and screaming by now but the huge thing was coming right at Amalthia from behind, so she couldn’t see it—only its shadow.