‘Ah, of course.’
‘Are you eager to return to the Vitr, Warden?’
He shrugged. ‘It did not top my list of immediate ambitions, sir. I regret no longer being under your command.’
‘We face difficult times, Warden. It may be some while before things return to normal and we can resume our routines. You will be in the care of Sergeant Bered while in the commander’s train.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You need not worry overmuch. He is a veteran of Glimmer Fate and the shores of the Vitr.’
Spinnock nodded, and then sighed. ‘I will miss you, captain.’
She felt something deep inside rise in answer to his words, and the sensation left her feeling momentarily weightless. She glanced away. ‘Let us hope Bered is better proof to your charms, Warden, than I am.’
Spinnock stepped closer. ‘Forgive me, sir. When I carried you back from the Vitr, ill as you were, well, I never tired of the embrace.’
‘Yet another reason,’ she muttered, ‘to regret my fever. Spinnock, be careful now.’
But he shook his head. ‘I know I am young. Perhaps too young in your esteem. But we-’
‘Enough of that, Warden. This is not the time.’
‘But it is all we have, Finarra.’
The figures moving past them seemed but blurs, like a host of wraiths bound to otherworldly tasks. She dared not meet Spinnock’s eyes, even though she knew that only in them could she right herself and rid her senses of the wheeling vertigo that threatened to take her. ‘It shall have to wait,’ she said. ‘Please, step back. There is proper decorum to consider.’
He did so, with a half-smile. ‘I do not regret my impulse, sir. At least now you know my feelings.’
And here I thought to seduce Faror, and find for Spinnock another woman’s arms. Confusion roiled in her and yet she felt almost drunk. ‘Be safe, Warden, and we shall one day resume this conversation.’
‘In private, I hope.’
‘That,’ she allowed, ‘would be best.’
Out in the compound, she paused, drawing deep, steadying breaths. She recalled little of that ride through the night, as Spinnock bore her back to the fort. Had he spoken to her? Cajoled her to keep her from slipping away? She had been bound to him, knotted by leather straps. She remembered the heat coming from him, and the sweat between them. He would have felt her against him, her breasts, her belly; even her arms had been drawn round his waist.
Warden Quill came up to her. ‘Sir, your mounts are saddled, equipped and waiting.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Warden.’
‘Sir?’
‘You ride in Bered’s troop, yes? Good. I trust you have been informed that young Spinnock Durav will be with you.’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘The commander thinks highly of him, Quill.’
The man nodded. ‘I will keep an eye on him, sir.’
‘Be not so obvious as to embarrass him.’
‘I have already known his company at the games table, sir, and would count him a friend.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
Quill smiled. ‘I will be guarding his left side, sir, with Stennis on his right.’
‘Very good. Thank you.’
She set off for the horses. Now, Spinnock, I’ll have my legs round you yet. As for you, Faror Hend, you have a husband in waiting, and too many crimes to cross to ever lie with your cousin. Even Calat sees the temptation in your eyes.
There was no guessing the paths of desire. He is young, but I will have him.
For a time.
‘I confess that I am without resolve.’
At Spinnock’s words, Faror Hend turned, to see him leaning in the doorway to her cell, his arms crossed and his eyes dancing with reflected light. She shook her head. ‘I have not seen that in you, cousin.’
‘I envisage a life where I am like a blade of grass, flattened by the faintest breath of wind.’
‘Then you will know bruises in plenty.’ She studied him. ‘What has taken you so, Spinnock?’
‘Brave words from me, while I stood far too close to our captain.’
She looked away sharply, returning to readying her kit bag. ‘There is a reason Finarra Stone is yet to find a husband.’
‘I see something wayward in her eyes, it’s true.’
She snorted. ‘She longs for no husband, cousin. She’d rather a wife.’ She looked back suddenly. ‘Did you not know that?’
The surprise on his face shifted into a smile. ‘Now there’s a challenge.’
Faror Hend straightened, moved close to him. ‘Spinnock, listen to me. She would play with you. You’re not the first man she has teased. But her lust lies in the feel of soft breasts in her hands, and yielding wetness between the legs. She shies from a stubbled kiss and hungers only for velvet lips.’
‘I shall scrape every whisker from my face, and deceive her in the dark.’
‘You deserve better than to be used.’
‘Hence the weakness of my resolve, cousin.’
‘Then yield to this.’ She grasped the back of his head and brought her mouth against his. She heard a grunt from him and then he pulled away. Faror moved close again and reached with her other hand between his legs, cupping the weight of him and feeling his heat through the silk.
Spinnock set his hands on her shoulders and firmly pushed her back. ‘No, cousin.’
‘Did you think me deaf to your invitations, Spinnock?’
He shook his head. ‘I thought we but played. A game with no risk of resolution. Faror, I am sorry, but this cannot be.’
She backed away and then swung round to fix the straps of her pack. Without facing him, she said, ‘Resolution is the least risk to such games, Spinnock, when in every move we fence in strategies of desire.’
‘Beloved cousin, do not misunderstand me. If we were not cousins, I would have earned revile from every Tiste for stealing you from your betrothed, for making of your body a thing well used.’
She struggled to slow her breathing, cursing herself for the pounding of her heart in her chest. Every ache felt delicious and yet tortured. She could still feel his lips against her own, and her left palm remained damp with his sweat.
‘What you did just now-’
‘Every game turns serious, Spinnock, eventually. Now let’s see your hasty retreat, cousin, and know the proof of unexpected resolve.’
‘My retreat, cousin, is the very opposite. Our captain awaits you, after all.’
She twisted round to glare at him. ‘In games of love, cousin, we all play to wound.’
‘That is a bitter vision, Faror.’
‘Is it? What greater courage than love’s confession? When the duelling is done unto exhaustion, one or the other must drop their guard, and then smile at the spilling of their own blood. Next comes the question: will the one doing the wounding now step close to set tongue to that wound?’
‘No, he will turn the blade upon himself, cousin, and so conjoin this crimson flow.’
‘And so the game ends with the promise of scars.’ She shook her head. ‘Play on, then, cousin, and think not of me.’
He edged out from the doorway, his expression filled with sorrow and dismay. ‘Fare you well in your journey, cousin.’
‘And you.’
When he was gone she shut the door, and then sat down heavily on her cot. The blood runs clear until every drop becomes a tear. The game is lost the moment you forget that it was ever a game. To hear the song of love is
