Sunstone's Secret Page 3

  “Thank you,” the woman rasped, lying back on her pillows, closing her eyes.

  “Sweetie, you need to drink something,” Em spoke as she caressed Mysha’s face. Natalie helped Em elevate Mysha’s head and swallow a few sips of tea while Em introduced the two women to each other.

  “Em, is there anything more we can do until we have the raegle leaf?”

  “No, hydration is the most important thing. And having her eat any food that stays down.”

  Natalie cocked her head at Mysha. “Does anything sound good?”

  “Sometimes … eggs … but I … usually … throw them up.”

  “Are you able to read or knit or do anything to occupy yourself in bed?”

  “Reading … makes me … feel … sicker.”

  Natalie went over to a wooden bookshelf overstuffed with books. “Well, why don’t I read to you? What would you like me to read?”

  “You … don’t … have to … do that.”

  “Please. It would be my pleasure. So long as your husband doesn’t mind me staying.”

  Mysha selected a title, which Natalie removed from the shelves. She sat in a rocking chair next to the bed with the newly empty bucket nearby. Em curled up in a chair to listen as well.

  Jake leaped on the bed and curled up next to Mysha as Natalie began reading. She frequently paused to hold the bucket as Mysha’s pregnancy took its toll. She stopped to put a blanket over Em, who’d dozed off. A wise Healer always seized an opportunity to sleep.

  Her work done, Natalie snuggled back into her chair and resumed reading. Caring for the sick woman was a balm to Natalie’s soul.

  Here, in this small wooden house, someone needed her, needed her gifts. The cheery comfort of Mysha and Shepherd’s home, plus the enthralling world of the book she read, chased away her nightmares and kept her mind off of Jules.

  Chapter 4

  J

  ules lay curled on his side in a dark cell. The tattered remains of his clothes did not hide the purpling bruises and angry red burns covering his body. The smell of fetid straw, human waste and something more insidious threatened to make Natalie retch. A hooded guard came to the cell door, keys jangling as he opened the lock.

  “Up you get.” The guard hauled Jules to his feet. Black, stringy hair covered Jules’s battered face.

  “No,” he moaned through cracked lips.

  The guard dragged Jules through a dark, twisted series of passageways to a room containing a flat stone table. Jules didn’t even fight back when the guard placed him on this, clamped irons on his ankles and wrist, and secured his right shoulder to the table with a thick leather strap to prevent him escaping with his arm that lacked a hand—Jules’s souvenir from the last time he was in Aldworth’s custody.

  “Now,” said a familiar voice from behind her. “Where shall we begin today?”

  She whirled; Aldworth held a curved dagger, torchlight glinting on the blade. Natalie lunged as Jules screamed.

  “Natalie, wake up. You’re screaming.”

  The light on the blade wobbled as something pulled her back. I’m not screaming, Jules is.

  “Natalie, STOP.”

  The light on the blade faded to a speck and the screaming stopped. Drenched in sweat, she pushed herself to a sitting position. Blinking, she took in her surroundings. She was in her bed in Ebenos Point Keep, the hall door was open and Onlo stood on her left.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” she pulled the bed covers to her chin.

  “Did you have a nightmare?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Natalie’s breath quivered as she inhaled. “They were … Aldworth was torturing Jules,” she palmed tears from her cheeks.

  “Onlo, don’t you think Anli and her team need a Healer? Someone could take me on a boat and I could join them.”

  Onlo’s warm hand cupped her cheek. “Natalie, they’d be impossible to find by now. Besides, I already have one friend who needs rescuing. If I can help it, there will not be another.”

  Startled by his touch, Natalie plopped back against her pillows and turned her head away, pushing at Jake, who was trying to lick her face. His hand fell away and she made a fist around her sheets. Onlo was just a friend. Wasn’t he? She didn’t want to touch her face where he had held it and betray her confusion.

  The terror of the nightmare, the overwhelming compulsion to search for Jules and the more-intimate-than-expected comfort from a friend sent Natalie’s brain swirling and she closed her eyes against the tumult, wishing it all away.

  “Besides, everyone on that boat can defend themselves if needed. You do not have their training.”

  She whipped her head around and glared at him. “Well, of course not, I’m a Healer. They don’t teach us how to kill during Healer training. We take an oath not to harm others.”

  “You think Aldworth and his followers give a damn about your oath? A week ago, in Roseharbor, when members of the New Mage’s Guild chased you and Jules through the streets, did your oath matter to them? Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have broken that oath to get Jules away from them.”

  Natalie folded her arms and glared at the wall opposite him. “I don’t know,” she said, uncertain if she just felt stubborn or she honestly didn’t know.

  Onlo sighed. “Then Anli and her crew would have to defend you as well as themselves, and Jules if they’d found him. You’d lower their chances of survival.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I don’t mean to insult. I only—”

  Natalie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, the flash of Aldworth’s dagger still behind her eyelids. And what could she have done to stop him from hurting Jules? Nothing. “No, Onlo, you’re right. You’re just telling it like it is.”

  “Mm,” Onlo’s deep voice resonated in the room until silence shrouded them both. “Natalie?”

  “Yes?”

  “What if you could fight back? Would you want to learn how?”

  As twilight’s rays streamed through the window the next evening, Mysha’s long eyelashes fluttered closed. Natalie tiptoed into the main room of the house, gave Shepherd an update, and left reluctantly for the Keep. She meandered amongst the lengthening shadows, watching Jake investigate all the interesting smells, her brain churning between her worry for Jules and a debate about whether it was all right for a Healer to defend herself. In her five years of education at the Abbey, she’d never been taught self-defense. In addition to the oaths Healers took to not harm other people, it never seemed necessary; life had been so peaceful.

  But she could not ignore Onlo’s point. What if someone meant harm to you or someone you loved? What if you didn’t want to kill, but you only wanted to live another day?

  “That’s one thing I learned the hard way when I was in the war, Healer. When I had to kill so I could live another day.” Jules’s voice echoed in her brain. He had taught her how to hunt using traps and she did not want to kill a rabbit they’d caught; it went against every Healing instinct she had. But they had had to eat.

  And now she must live to make Jules’s sacrifice to be worth it. Onlo was right; odds were someone would try to harm her again. She would just as soon live another day.

  Entering her room, Natalie found a simple brown package tied with twine on her bed. Stepping backward a few paces, she peered into the hallway; it was empty. Returning to the parcel, Natalie sat on her bed and cautiously opened it. Light armor made of the supplest brown leather fell into her lap. A pair of soft, gray cotton pants and a tan shirt slipped out, falling atop the leather armor. She searched the packaging for a note, but couldn’t find anything.

  Biting her lip, she stripped off her clothes and pulled the new ones on. The velvety leather boots went up to her knees and fit like a second skin. Shrugging into the leather bodice, she tied the laces as tight as she could and then slid her hands into bracers. She could tighten one easily, but once one
was tightened, she struggled to tighten the other wrist. After a while, she gave up. A belt completed the ensemble and she padded down the hall to the bathroom to admire herself in the mirror.

  The bodice clung to her every curve. The pants fit a lot better than her old worn out brown ones did, the shape of her legs accentuated by the boots. The sleeves of the new shirt flared slightly before disappearing into the bracers.

  She recalled the day Anli’s team left to find Jules; how sleek and adept her crew looked loading the boat. Could she pass as a member of Anli’s team by appearance alone? She stepped closer to the mirror. No. Obfuselt leather was black, and her leather was brown. Whoever her mysterious benefactor was, they were not trying to make her a part of Obfuselt.

  As she twisted and preened in the mirror, Natalie glimpsed a bit of her old self. Despite the armor, she was still a Healer. Between teaching Charlotte and her time with Mysha, she’d reclaimed her Healer status from those who would take it from her.

  Stepping closer to the mirror, there also someone new; someone Natalie didn’t know yet. The face of someone who could help rescue Jules if she had the skills.

  Chapter 5

  S

  weat ran down Natalie’s back in tiny rivulets. Even at this early hour, the sweltering training yard had no shade whatsoever—and so far all she’d done was stand there. Rubbing the back of her neck, she wandered over to the racks of training weapons. They resembled oversized wooden toys; Natalie couldn’t imagine herself using one, let alone their real counterparts. She picked up a wooden staff and rolled it back and forth in her hands a few times. She wondered why someone would learn to use a staff when they could use something deadlier like a sword or knives, but the smoothness of the wood appealed to her and she stroked it reverently with her thumb.

  “Put the staff back. There will be plenty of time for weapons later,” Onlo said, making her jump. Well, this is off to a brilliant start. I’m pretty sure one of the basics of self-defense is ‘never be caught off guard.’ I’m doing a bang-up job so far.

  She put the weapon back, turned and was surprised to see Charlotte behind him, dressed in an elegant skin-tight outfit. “You will be training together,” Onlo announced.

  The princess smiled and began to stretch in a way Natalie was certain no human body should be able to bend. “I had tutors in hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship and archery growing up. I want to be sure I stay in shape.”

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  Onlo stood in front of them, legs slightly apart, arms clasped behind his back. “Before you can fight or defend yourself, you must first have the stamina to do so. Jog four laps around the training yard. Go.”

  Natalie followed the princess, whose silver ponytail bobbed jauntily and caught the sunlight as she jogged. The first lap was all right. On the second lap, Natalie’s boots scuffed along the packed dirt. Her new boots, which seemed so soft when she put them on, rubbed in all the wrong places. She had not realized the training yard was this immense from her perch in the bay window. During the third lap, she prayed Em was nearby to treat her for heat exhaustion. By the fourth and final lap, chest heaving, bending over the stitch in her right side and stumbling along the perimeter of the training yard, it didn’t matter, she was dead anyway.

  Barely shuffling forward, hands on her knees, she struggled to take a full breath. The princess, having finished several minutes ago, sat on the ground stretching like a cat in the sunshine.

  Onlo indicated a barrel nearby. “Get a drink, Natalie.”

  Staggering to the barrel, opening the lid and grabbing the dipper, Natalie poured the cool water into her mouth, not minding that a good bit splashed on her face. Don’t drink too much, you don’t want to vomit. Yay, I’m not entirely useless out here; I can save myself from dying of heat stroke.

  Maybe.

  Once Natalie had stretched, Onlo taught them something called reiqata, a flowing series of poses that formed the basis of Obfuselt’s self-defense arts. Arms and legs shaking after the run, Natalie struggled to mimic Onlo as he taught them the first sequence. She couldn’t help but compare herself to the princess, who moved like a dancer, mastering each move on the first try, and executing the entire first series of motions perfectly the second time through.

  “Could you show me again, please?” Natalie asked. Onlo showed her the poses once more. With a sigh of frustration, she made her reluctant arms and legs mirror Onlo’s positions and tried to make them flow from one pose to another, but the reiqata didn’t come any easier. With a growl, she turned and went to go get some more water. The princess executed all the moves flawlessly, while Onlo observed with pride. Natalie slammed the dipper back in the barrel.

  “Again,” she demanded.

  Natalie yawned in the training yard the next afternoon. After yesterday's disastrous training session, she'd limped to Mysha’s house and read aloud late into the night, as much for her own comfort as for the pregnant woman’s. Alas, her stolen moments of solace would likely bite her in the rear today.

  If the plan was for her to learn to protect herself when her life was in danger, she would likely die as soon as someone jumped out from behind a corner and yelled, “Boo!”

  Onlo asked her and the princess to do five laps around the training yard today and her muscles screamed the entire way. The bandages on her blisters slid off and rubbed against the very injuries they were supposed to protect.

  Natalie limped to Onlo in worse shape than yesterday, seven minutes after the princess finished. Wanting to glare at him, she stared daggers at the ground instead. She grabbed some water and stood in front of him for the reiqata. She did all right with the first four poses, but her hot, scrambled brain simply could not put together the rest of the sequence. She watched Onlo like a hawk, but her mind refused to absorb any information.

  The princess, of course, did the whole thing perfectly on the first try.

  Onlo spent extra time with her, repeating movements and trying to fix her alignment in the poses. The more he helped her, the more her blood boiled. Why couldn’t her body listen to her brain? Charlotte could do it, why couldn’t she?

  Her legs shook as she held a particular stance. Onlo walked behind her. “Here,” he said as he deftly corrected her knee, hip and shoulder position.

  His fingers held her shoulders for a steady beat and she felt his breath on her neck before he stepped away. A shiver rippled down her spine and Natalie’s eyes widened. Was that intentional? Is he …? No, no he couldn’t be.

  She shook her head and added “possible paranoia” to the list of symptoms she’d assembled for herself, including “heat exhaustion,” “poor memory,” and “general lack of physical coordination.”

  Late that afternoon, she practiced, scouring her brain for everything Onlo taught her. Two hours later, drenched in sweat, with muscles she didn’t know she had screaming in protest, she eased herself into a cool, herb-scented bath. Letting her head fall back against the bathtub with a wet plop, she felt good about tomorrow’s practice; it had to go better.

  It didn’t.

  The princess moved on to the second sequence of movements. Natalie stumbled over the first ones.

  Hell in a kettle.

  On the fourth morning, Natalie sat on her bed, shoulders slumped and head buried in her palms. It was time to go to the training yard. Frankly, Natalie wanted to curl up and take a nap. It was probably a better use of her time.

  She couldn’t bring herself to move when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she said into her hands.

  The bed sank beside her. “You don’t feel like training today,” Onlo’s said; it wasn’t a question.

  She humphed, trying not to be aware of how close he was on her bed. “That obvious?”

  “Do you still want to learn to defend yourself?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess you want to fight back against those men who chased you through Roseharbor?”

 
Natalie jerked her head off her palms and glared at him. “I’d do anything to save Jules from those men!” She slapped a hand on the bed. “If I could go back in time … but look at me! I can barely run. I can’t remember the first sequence. I’m not graceful. I try so hard, but I can’t do it.”

  “Ah. Here is your problem.”

  “What, ‘I think I can’t?’ Don’t be trite.”

  “No. You are angry and trying too hard.”

  “I—what?”

  Onlo grasped the hand she’d put on the bed with his large warm one. “Natalie, we have not been friends for long, but I know you well enough to see that you are a passionate woman. Jules is missing and you are not a part of his rescue. You are frustrated, angry, and scared. You are not in control of your own life, but much of life cannot be controlled, like the ocean. Ride the waves instead of fighting them. You will tire less easily.”

  Natalie squeezed his warm hand, one corner of her mouth turning up just a bit. “You are very observant.”

  He squeezed her hand back, merry eyes twinkling at her. The clasp of his fingers prompted memories of her hand in Jules. A chill spilled down her back. Why am I holding hands with Onlo? Onlo said we’re friends. Do friends hold hands sitting on a bed like this? What would Jules say if he saw us?

  Natalie removed her hand from his and rested her chin on it, her fingers conveniently obscuring Onlo’s view of her face so he couldn’t see her confusion

  “Today, during the reiqata, try this. Do you have a grounding meditation to access the ley lines on your Isle?”

  She nodded.

  “Meditate before you begin. And get your anger out during your run. Anger has no place in the reiqata.”

  Legs pumping and arms swinging, Natalie channeled all her anger and anxiety into each step of her afternoon run. Pacing herself, Natalie did all eight laps of the training yard, and she didn’t finish too long after the princess. Her blisters had, thank the Five, hardened into callouses. When she sat down to stretch, warmth radiated throughout her body and her mind, rejuvenated by the run; she almost craved more.