Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
I had never thought I’d be so grateful to see a nothing little town in the Wilds as I was to see this one. I wasn’t even sure it had a name—but at least it had something that looked like an inn. That meant a roof, a hearth, and perhaps, if Kason’s pockets were deep enough, a warm bath.
It had begun raining in the middle of the night, a deluge that had not let up for longer than a few minutes at a time.
My sodden hair dragged against my face, but my bound hands and the tether Kason held prevented me from brushing it aside.
I’d been shocked when Kason had done so occasionally, his movements casual, as though he wasn’t consciously aware of it.
By midday, I had found the novelty of the action was no longer entertaining, and certainly not enough to make the rain any more bearable.
Rather than aim straight for the inn, Kason stopped on the road and turned to me. “I need your word that you won’t misbehave.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Kason gritted his teeth and glanced over his shoulder at the inn. “See that banner hanging by the door?”
I craned my neck to get a look at it. The symbol on the cloth was difficult to make out in the rain, but it appeared to be a stylized red eye. I’d seen it here and there in this province before, but didn’t know what it meant. “Yes?”
“That’s the brand of the Sightless God.”
“Never heard of him.”
“It’s an older religion, fallen out of favor in the capital and more civilized regions.”
“Spoken like a man of privilege.” I sneered.
Kason’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “The Sightless God has only one eye and is blind, but he knows all—or so his followers believe. They adhere to a strict code of conduct, and they abhor magic of any sort.”
“Good for them. Can we go get dry now?”
“Listen to me, you idiot,” Kason growled. “If we go in there with your bracelets on, we will both be killed. They don’t see any difference between lawful and unlawful magic—it’s all a sin to them.”
“Oh. Well…” I turned and held out my bound hands as best I could. “Go ahead and remove them.”
“Little witch…”
“I’m tired, I’m cold, and I’m hungry for a meal that doesn’t squish between my teeth.”
“And?”
“And?” I echoed.
“I fully expect you to try to escape at some point, but not tonight. Not here.” Kason’s blue eyes were very intent—almost as though he were begging. How odd.
I straightened and turned to face Kason. “You’re afraid of these people?”
“I have heard stories. Let’s say I don’t wish to discover if they were true.”
Kason seemed genuinely concerned, a realization that made me shiver. This was the man who’d trekked across gods knew how many leagues to chase me, through all sorts of dangerous lands. For him to be so worried now…
“Why don’t we continue? The rain isn’t that bad,” I lied.
“Your lips are blue.”
“I’ve endured worse.”
Kason shook his head. “Just promise me your grand escape attempt won’t be tonight.”
I pressed my lips together and considered my captor. I owed Kason literally nothing, yet I felt inclined to obey, if only to erase the lines of worry that had taken up residence in Kason’s forehead. How ridiculous. But… “Not tonight,” I agreed reluctantly.
Tension melted out of Kason’s shoulders, and he reached for my bindings. “Thank you.”
It took Kason a few moments to remove the leather.
His hands seemed to be trembling, though whether from relief or cold, I had no idea.
I was just thankful that the rain had encouraged everyone in the village to remain indoors, so there were no witnesses to the odd picture we made.
The return of my magic was not as exciting as it should have been, the tingles racing through my veins subdued by the omnipresent rain.
Still, it added a little energy to my step as we approached the inn.
Heat enveloped me as soon as we stepped inside, like a hug from an overbearing aunt—too much, too close, but still better than being left out in the cold.
Chatter stopped as the door swung shut behind us, and the entire tavern watched warily.
Six men sat around an oval table, small tiles and other game pieces set out before them.
Instead of tankards, each man had a small, steaming mug—I sniffed and immediately caught the scent of apples and cloves.
A fire crackled in the open hearth, almost too large for the small space.
“Welcome, travelers!” A man I assumed to be the proprietor strode up to us with his arms cast wide. “We don’t often receive out-of-town guests.”
“Thank you for the welcome, good sir,” Kason said with a solemn nod. “Might we acquire a room for the night?”
The innkeeper’s brows rose. “Just one?”
What an odd question. Kason seemed to think the same, since his response held a note of inquiry. “Yes?”
“And are you wed, sirs?”
What in the hells’ fiery depths…? Kason’s hand on my elbow prevented me from taking any action. I rather felt like a horse wearing a confining bit, and I didn’t like it at all.
“I’m not sure I understand the purpose of that question,” Kason hedged.
The innkeeper bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Our village follows the old ways. You know of Harkanato?”
“The Sightless God,” Kason clarified, probably for my benefit.
“The All-Knowing,” the innkeeper corrected. “He guides our lives and asks only that we honor him by adhering to his commandments, one of which is to sleep alone unless married.”
“That is a load?—”
Kason’s pinching grip on my elbow cut off the rest of my outburst. “I see. Then you can rest assured, Sir Innkeeper, we are indeed married.”
What the— Married? I had the good sense to keep my exclamation internal this time, but I couldn’t keep my body from tensing. Kason tugged at my arm, just enough to signal me to not act out.
“Blessed you are by the gods then,” the innkeeper said with a wide smile. “May I see your marks?” He reached for Kason’s hand.
Oh shit.
I hadn’t been around too many married couples in my life—for some reason, thievery didn’t seem to go with the whole settling down and making a family thing.
But I’d met one or two, and they’d only been too proud to show off the marks left upon them by the gods to signal the joining of their souls.
In my opinion, marriage was nothing short of stupid.
Why bind yourself to another for the entirety of your life and, if some proponents were to be believed, into the next?
Before long, your spouse would tire of you, and then where would you be?
Everyone knew the gods were picky about releasing people from their vows.
Divorce could happen, but it wasn’t easy, and the price paid was never a monetary one.
Besides, the priestesses insisted on counseling before they’d present the petition to the gods, and who had time for that?
Despite Kason’s warnings about magic usage here, I knew I had to do something.
Gently, tentatively, I readied myself. Casting a subtle and undetectable spell to mark someone was—I’d never done it before.
I also had no real idea what the marriage mark should look like.
My memory of the ones I’d seen was fuzzy at best. I simply hadn’t cared enough to pay attention.
Would it be worse for the innkeeper to see bare skin or an incorrect mark?
Before I had decided on the answer to that question, the innkeeper pushed back Kason’s sleeve to reveal an intricate symbol on the inside of Kason’s right wrist. A symbol I hadn’t cast—and one that looked vaguely familiar.
Holy shit! Kason was married?
“Yes, excellent.” The innkeeper smiled, then gestured for my wrist.
Kason interrupted by pulling me close. “I beg your pardon, but surely my wrist is proof enough?” He grimaced. “You’ve turned a blessing of the gods into something of a brand, and that’s not what it is supposed to be.”
“But Harkanato?—”
“Your all-knowing god knows the truth, and it is we who would be punished for our indiscretions, no? They are not your responsibility.”
“Give ’em a room, Corl,” one of the men at the games table said. “You know what those marriage bonds are like. He wouldn’t be able to get it up for anyone else, anyway.” That statement led to much chuckling around the table and clinking of cider mugs.
Corl huffed out a loud, unimpressed breath. “Second door on the right at the top of the stairs. Do you want to eat down here or in your room?”
“In the room, please,” Kason said.
The innkeeper waved us on our way, and Kason all but dragged me upstairs. Once we reached the room, Kason yanked the door open and pushed me inside before gently, and with great, exaggerated care, closing it.
“What part of ‘don’t use magic’ don’t you understand?”
I gaped at Kason. “Me? I did nothing!”
Kason struggled to strip out of his sodden jacket and shirt, then held out his marked wrist. “You call this nothing?”
“I call that stupid.” I sneered. “Does your spouse appreciate you running all over the country chasing me?”
It was Kason’s turn for his mouth to fall open. “I’m not married!”
I gestured at the mark. “That says you are.”
“You put it there!” Kason emphasized each word, but kept his voice down so our argument wouldn’t travel downstairs.
“I did not!” I kept my voice pitched at a similar volume and crossed my arms. “I was going to, but I didn’t know the correct design, and then he pushed your sleeve back…”
Kason’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Remove it.”
“I didn’t put it there !”
A knock sounded at the door, and Kason leaped forward to seal his palm over my lips. “I have your supper, sirs,” the innkeeper said, his voice muffled.
“Thank you,” Kason called. “Please leave the tray beside the door, and we’ll retrieve it momentarily.”
“As you wish.”
I fumed as Kason kept his hand over my mouth for another minute or more, long after the sound of Corl’s footsteps had died away. Finally, I had had enough, and I shoved Kason to the side. “I did nothing,” I whisper-shouted.
Disgusted with the situation—and the fact that I’d given my word I would not try to escape that night—I began peeling off my wet clothes without much care for them.
I heard a seam rip, but I was too incensed by Kason’s accusations to slow down.
I slapped my sodden shirt on the floor and started on my pants.
“Stop.”
I jerked away from Kason’s outstretched hand. “What? Are my unmentionables going to offend you now? Let me get out of these godsdamned rags?—”
“Mokido, stop.” Kason grabbed my right arm and turned it to expose my inner wrist. His face paled. “My gods.”
“What?” Instinctively, I tried to pull my arm away, but Kason wouldn’t let go. When I looked down, I understood why.
On the inside of my arm was a mark identical to Kason’s—but lighter, much lighter, as if it were only half-imprinted. I stared at it, my gut sinking.
“What does it mean?” I whispered.
“It means we’re fucked,” Kason whispered back.