But her body remembered. Yet how could her body know of these feelings? Blankness. There was a blank place in her mind, a walled-off place. Hands on her body…Forbidden! A restless heat rising…a heavy ache between her legs…an intolerable need…Forbidden! Hunter kissing her with a demand she couldn’t resist, couldn’t fight, the hard male strength of his body pressed to hers, her own body yielding, helpless in a desire beyond reason. Forbidden!
Hunter’s love. The Unicorns.
“No!” It was more moan than word, anguish rather than protest. And she found the strength, somehow, to break free of him. She stumbled away, her legs shaking, heart pounding, her breathing ragged as she grasped the back of a chair for support. And she half-closed her eyes when she looked down and saw that the chair was his.
Hunter swayed on his feet when she left him, the force of his need nearly overwhelming him. God, but he wanted this woman! And she wanted him; blind and deaf, he still would have been certain of that. Why was she fighting him? He tried to rein the fierce needs of his body, the ache in his loins a throbbing threat to his control.
“Siri—”
She was struggling for control, terrified at the weakness of her own body. If the strength of a ten-thousand-year-old taboo hadn’t been so great…And there had been something familiar in her body’s response, but—it was gone now.
“You want me,” he said then, his voice hoarse.
“I can’t change what I am,” she whispered.
“I’m not asking you to change!”
She straightened slowly, her shoulders squaring. And she looked at him with dry, hot eyes. “Asking. Demanding. But I can’t change what I am!” Without another word, she went to prepare their midday meal with shaking hands.
After a while, her hands steadied. Her heart stopped pounding and she could breathe again. But her fear didn’t lessen, and the black foreboding was heavy in her mind.
She couldn’t change what she was, but Hunter could. And she couldn’t tell him that change would destroy her, couldn’t explain, because it wasn’t for telling.
—
Mother?
Daughter?
Help me, Mother…
I cannot, child.
Mother…
Beware, child. And be strong.
Chapter 7
His failed possession of Siri had enraged Boran more than he liked. He lost his temper with Con and one of the other Huntmen when he returned to camp to hear mutters of discontent, and took a great deal of pleasure in nearly breaking Con’s jaw. Only the awareness of his slipping mind control enabled him to stop short of actually cracking bones in his fury.
He stood swaying a little, staring down at Con where the Huntman sprawled and nursed his bruised jaw with a shaking hand. Another Huntman began to speak, and Boran knocked him flat without even thinking about it.
Slowly, though, he began to regain control over his temper. His earlier lust, lacking the completion of the act with Siri, had transformed itself into physical rage, and he felt calmer once that tension was dispelled. His mind settled into its normal alert and methodical state, and he decided the time had come for action of a different sort.
He had yet to see the sorceress in battle, and he wanted to know her strengths in that area. It would be useful, too, to discover if Hunter had healed entirely. He frowned a little, recalling Siri’s abrupt resistance just short of penetration. Was there something he had overlooked, some part of her mind he was unable to reach into and control?
No. No, it was merely the ingrained taboo honored for ten thousand years. She would not easily give up her virginity. But if her strengths were further tested? If she were forced to be violently active in defending her beloved unicorns from the threat of Huntmen? Would that not strain her abilities, weaken her strength?
Yes.
He looked at the Huntmen. Dull weapons to be thrust by a strong arm. Still, there were more in the city, easily recruited by promises of gold. And he would be absent from the valley only a day to bring more Huntmen here.
Con had risen to his feet, still nursing his jaw. Sulkily, he said, “We’re tired of waiting, Boran.”
Boran smiled suddenly and was amused that they shrank from that more strongly than from a blow. “No more waiting,” he told them pleasantly. “We move against the sorceress and her lover. I know her weaknesses now. You will do exactly as I command.”
—
The midday meal was a silent and strained one. Siri was tense, preoccupied, her manner stiff, and wary eyes studied Hunter from time to time. She ate without feeling hunger, her mind fixed rigidly on the coming confrontation and the blackly agonizing darkness she couldn’t penetrate.
What was it? Not the end? Fear clenched inside her, holding her heart in a fierce grasp. No, she wouldn’t let it be the end! The Unicorns would survive. Nothing else mattered. She didn’t matter. He didn’t…
Hunter. She looked at him, her eyes sliding away almost instantly. Damn him. Damn him for mattering. Her heart thudded against her ribs, hurting her as fear tangled with her love for him and rose in her throat. Was that it? Was that the blackness she couldn’t penetrate? Was his vital importance to her causing the anguish she could feel lying ahead of them?
And she sent a prayer to nameless, faceless gods to spare her a choice she wasn’t strong enough to make.
I can’t choose! Choosing them would mean his death. And so much of me would die with him. Choosing him would destroy the Unicorns…and me.
“Siri?” His voice was deep, hesitant. “I—I want to help defend the unicorns. When the Huntmen come.”
So he hadn’t forgotten after all. She rose and carried her plate to the work-shelf, barely aware that he’d done the same. Maybe there will be no choice, she thought bleakly. Seeing the possibility of her own death in the cards’ black prophecy, she was torn yet again by a sudden desire to tell Hunter where the Unicorns would hide. If she were to die, would Hunter protect the Unicorns until another Keeper could take over? Could she trust him that far?
Did she dare take that step? No Keeper had ever asked for the help of a man, had never wanted or needed it, and she knew in her heart that the asking would be her first voluntary step toward destruction. She would be admitting that she trusted him, that she cared enough to trust, and after taking that step she would never be able to go back. Her resistance to trust, to…love…was half her strength; once she abandoned that part of her will, how would she find the necessary courage to fight Hunter’s desire—and her own?
Once trust and love were freely given, could even the power of a ten-thousand-year-old taboo prevail over the relentless and chaotic need of an all-too-human body? Could any promise or vow stand against that?
Siri squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t love him, she refused to love him! If she didn’t admit it, refused to say the words, it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t really exist. But she could trust him. She had to take every possibility into account, prepare for every eventuality; and the cards had never before prophesied such a black and terrible danger. And if she were to die on this day, there were yet weeks of Summer to leave her beloved charges vulnerable. She had to ensure their survival—even if that meant giving her trust to a man.
But not her love. Never her love. She could feel it, but keep it safely undeclared in her heart. Safe. So that it wouldn’t interfere with her vows and promises, and so that he couldn’t use it against her.
“Leave,” she said suddenly, harshly, giving him a last chance. “Leave now. Today. This minute. I won’t be responsible for you.”
“You aren’t,” he said instantly.
Siri turned her back on him to walk to the open door, staring out over the peaceful valley. His refusal to leave left her with few choices, few alternatives. There was no longer time available for thought, for finding acceptable answers. She could only use every resource at her command to fulfill her own trust and guard the Unicorns.
It was all she could do.
“They’re coming,” she said in a vo
ice deadened by defeat. She was so afraid. “I don’t know how many. But they’re strong. And determined.”
Hunter watched her, sensing from how she spoke that these Huntmen posed a greater threat than any she’d known. A part of him understood that he was somehow responsible for that greater threat, but it only made him more determined to help her. “Let me help, Siri.”
She turned suddenly to face him, her back against the doorjamb. The sharded brightness of something rent into limitless, elusive pieces was in her dark eyes, some resolution or decision set aside in terrible pain for the first time. “I can’t ask you,” she said flatly.
“You don’t have to. I want to help, Siri. I need to help.”
A sigh, shuddering and heavy, escaped her. “Then you have to make me a promise—two promises.”
“Anything.” He realized in that moment, jarringly, that Siri would not again ask him to leave the valley. On that point, at least, he had won. But what had she lost? What had his victory cost her?
“First, you must promise never to reveal the Unicorns’ hiding place. Never. Your word.”
“My word. I promise you, Siri. I won’t betray your trust.” He felt elated by her request. She trusted him. It wasn’t love—but it was a beginning.
Siri met his gaze fiercely, unsettled and afraid because she saw that he understood in some way the importance of her trust. Would he try to use that against her, use the knowledge to get what he wanted from her? And could she fight that? “And you must promise that should I not survive this day, you will do everything in your power to protect the Unicorns until another Keeper can take over—even if it means returning to this valley next Summer to guard them. Your word!”
Coldness, icily desolate, replaced his elation. He heard his own voice emerge hollow and mechanical. “What have you seen? What has your Sight shown you?”
He saw a faint quiver disturb her tightly held mouth. “Give me your word.”
“Tell me!” he demanded.
She shook her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Nothing I could speak of. Something I—I can’t really see. Perhaps death. I may lose today.”
“You can’t die,” he said, and it was a desperate denial.
Abruptly, she held a hand out between them and reached with the other to pull back the tight cuff of her sleeve. On the golden flesh of her forearm, hidden from him until now, was a ragged scar. She held his eyes again when they lifted to hers. “Cut me and I bleed. I can’t heal myself, Hunter, not the way I healed you. I’m as mortal as you are.”
“You can’t die!” he repeated between gritted teeth, his words shaped by an unconscious determination to hold reality at bay for the first time.
Her black eyes were fathoms deep. “Yes. I can die. I told you before—I’m no sorceress. No witch. In fighting the Huntmen, I have only my hands, my wits, and the weapons I fashion for myself. No magic.”
“You’ve always won before.” It was a last protest against truth, whispered in pain and denial.
“I may not win this time.”
He reached out suddenly, needing to hold her, but Siri stopped him with a hand lifted to his chest. Just that. No force, but he went still, feeling that hand and seeing the rejection in her eyes. She wouldn’t be held by him. Not now.
Hunter let his arms fall to his sides, staring into her eyes. He wanted to stand between her and any threat, protect her, cherish her. And she would have none of it.
She’d told him more than once that this was her birthright. Told him in pride and determination. He could no more stand between her and danger than he could allow her to protect him. It was her right to protect the creatures entrusted to her, her right and her choice. To offer her his protection would be to belittle her and everything she believed in. He could only offer help.
She wouldn’t even allow him to comfort her.
“Your word,” she said steadily.
“You have it,” he said in a heavy voice. “I’ll keep the faith, Siri. If I survive and you…don’t, I’ll protect your unicorns.”
Siri saw that he was pale, his features haggard, green eyes dark and curiously lost. Her hand fell slowly. “Thank you.”
He smiled just a little, and one hand lifted to touch her cheek so briefly that she didn’t have time to draw away. “For what? You won’t even let me carry your sword.”
She knew what he meant and felt a flicker of respect for him in this. He was strong enough, and more than willing, to fight for her, she knew. But also strong enough to fight with her, and that meant more to her. “Just knowing you’ll shield the Unicorns makes me stronger,” she told him.
“I only hope it makes you strong enough.”
There was no answer for that, except time. “We should hide the Unicorns now. We’ll also have to gather forage to place in the cave with them; I have a feeling this battle will last longer than any other.”
Hunter followed her from the cabin, trying not to flinch from a possible future in order to deal with the present. “Cave? You mean the dragon’s cave?”
“No, not Bundy’s cave.” She sighed, apparently at odds with her valley’s peculiar reality. “If they could be hidden there, everything would be much simpler. But dragons and Unicorns are ancient enemies; not even they know why any longer. I’ve never known a Unicorn to go near Bundy.”
“But if they could—?”
“Dragons are guards. Always. As you observed, they were created out of man’s fears of what might be just over the horizon, and so a dragon’s purpose is to guard. Sometimes they guard treasure, sometimes they guard a more defenseless race than themselves. Bundy guards the sea within The Reaper because the Mermaids live there while they bear and raise Keepers. Dragons always guard Merpeople, because they’re gentle and defenseless.”
“But not unicorns.”
“No. Unicorns aren’t defenseless, except against men and then only by choice. Cloud’s told me stories of the ancient times; Unicorns were fierce in battle then. It was before the Guardians or Keepers, and before man had disillusioned them. Only a dragon could defeat a Unicorn, and then only rarely.”
They were walking toward the woods, following the unicorns that were already moving along the path to the Crystal Pool. Hunter thought about her words for a moment. “Yet the unicorns and Bundy live here in peace?”
She nodded. “Because Bundy remains in his cave and the Unicorns respect his domain.”
“Another easy solution shot to hell.”
Siri smiled a little. “Indeed. If Bundy were Keeper of the Unicorns, they’d be well protected. But he isn’t.”
Hunter looked down at her as they walked, and reached suddenly to grasp her hand, retaining it even when she would have gently pulled away. And even that small resistance rubbed salt in an aching wound. Why did she fight him? “I know you’re allowed to touch, Siri, even if you can’t love! You’ve touched me before this.”
After a moment, he said, “Your hand’s cold.”
She wanted to tell him her heart was cold as well, but concentrated instead on the preparations they would have to make. And tried not to think of how warm and strong his hand was, of how naturally her fingers had twined with his.
The twilight world of the forest, shaded and quiet, closed around them as they walked. The murmur of the spring ahead grew louder; the faint splash of the little waterfall became a rushing gurgle as they neared. And the unicorns, like the forest, were silent and subdued.
“They know, don’t they?” Hunter asked.
“Cloud’s known as long as I have. It’s a bad omen for the herd, Huntmen coming so soon after a birth. They’re worried.”
Hunter pushed aside yet another chilling presentiment of death, forcing his mind to practicalities. “What weapons do you have?”
Siri glanced up at him. “Few.” She touched the long knife at her belt with her free hand. “This. A bow and arrows, a couple of spears. And there are traps, snares to be set around the valley.”
He sighed. “Damn.” br />
“The Huntmen will be armed little better than we.”
“Well, at least the odds will be fairly even.”
She stopped suddenly on the path, staring up at him. “You have to remember something, Hunter. The Unicorns will be hidden. The Huntmen know I always hide them. Alive, one or both of us could reveal the hiding place, and the Huntmen know that, too. What they aren’t sure of is how long the Unicorns can remain hidden; for all they know, it could be for the rest of the Summer.”
“So they won’t want to kill us both,” Hunter said slowly.
“If they’re smart, no,” she said evenly.
“Torture?” he guessed in a taut voice.
Siri shrugged and began following the path again. “It’s a possibility.”
He wasn’t deceived by her casual tone, nor was his mind diverted from the possibilities her words had conjured. The thought of Siri bleeding and broken, in an agony of the Huntmen’s creation, horrified and sickened him. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, but couldn’t swallow the fear.
On a world called Argosy, humans had evolved into a martial society, and one of their greatest joys was the conquering of other worlds. They had raised torture to a fine art, competing among themselves to see who could keep a captive alive the longest while systematically destroying the body. Hunter had seen. He had seen shapeless forms devoid of all but the last faint flicker of suffering consciousness. He had seen the travesty of life flesh could be reduced to….
“They could capture you,” she said softly, not looking at him.
“I’d prefer a clean death,” he said, the fear for her still choking him.
“So would I,” she said even more softly.
Nothing more was said for a long time. They followed the path and the unicorns past the Crystal Pool, Hunter noticing that the Moonflowers were closed against the day, no longer colorful or mystically beautiful. The path branched just beyond the pool, one way leading to Bundy’s cave, the other becoming fainter and fainter until it disappeared. But the unicorns continued moving through the forest, finding their way through brambles and thickets where there was no path to betray their whereabouts.