Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)
Was Gonna Tell You

Llew continued to come in and out of consciousness, the passing of time as vague as any of her thoughts. It felt as if her life had become about sleeping, bathing, and barely functioning in a drug-addled semi-consciousness. She slept. She woke. She slept again.

A week after the attack, her medication was reduced and she began to get out of bed for short walks around her room, supported by Jonas, his hands always gloved in leather.

Her belly ached, firing sharp pains with nearly every step in her efforts to get out of bed, but she was sick of being bedridden. She had to move.

All too often, her body ached for another reason. That strange love that had appeared out of nowhere no longer had a direction and she didn’t know what to do with it. As the drug haze wore off, the sense of loss moved in and settled. Llew, the strong, independent child of Cheer, regularly turned into a blubbering mess wrapped in arms unable to give any real comfort through leather and cotton.

They spoke little about what had happened. Jonas hardly talked at all. Llew guessed his thoughts were consumed with all that he’d learned in those days. He’d looked up to Aris all his life – his mentor, his Captain, his father figure – and Aris had kept possibly the biggest secret ever from him: that he was something more. If that wasn’t bad enough, Hisham’s silence about Jonas’s son certainly was.

Betrayed by the those he trusted most; Llew had some sense of how he must have felt. She used to think her parents had betrayed her, and her supposed friend Kynas certainly had.

Cadyn came by almost daily, growing more agitated. Once, when Llew was emerging from a sleep, she heard the captain urge Jonas to leave her, head for Turhmos and bring back Cadyn’s nephew.

After that conversation, Jonas, it seemed, was always there, curled up on the floor by her bed, propped off the chair, or in his own cot under the window. She hadn’t heard Cadyn make a threat against her, but the clues were there to make her wonder.

When Anya walked into Llew’s room, Llew had to blink and look again. Anya was really there.

Anya gave her a tight-lipped smile, her eyes sparkling. Then the smile turned down and she came to Llew’s bed.

“Oh, Llew. It’s so good to see you.” Anya bent to kiss Llew on the cheek.

“Don’t. I’ll burn you.”

Anya stopped, only an inch separating them, then pulled back and sat in the chair by the bed. Seemingly not quite sure what to do with her hands, she rested them on the edge of the mattress.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Better,” Llew said honestly.

“Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

Llew smiled. “They’re looking after me.” She was eating and drinking, but only small amounts, and only when the hunger or thirst got too much. The problem with things that went in was that they had to come out, and everything hurt.

“And so they should.” Anya put on a stern air briefly before softening to a friendly smile again, though her pity wasn’t far from the surface.

For the first time since she’d met her, Llew felt an awkwardness in Anya’s presence. They both knew why Anya had come all this way, but neither of them knew how to talk about it.

Jonas, who had been asleep in his cot, stirred. “Anya?”

“Hey.” Anya waved.

Jonas rid himself of his bedding and came across the small room, arms spread in a clear suggestion of a hug. He wore only his drawers.

“Oh.” Anya blushed. Then she composed herself and stood to accept the greeting, even giving a tentative hug in return.

“It is so good to see you.” Jonas pulled Anya into a firm embrace and Llew felt the sting of jealousy.

“You, too,” Anya croaked out, unable to catch a breath. She patted his bare back.

Jonas released her and studied her a moment, as if he, too, had to make certain she really was there.

“Well, I’ll leave you two girls to …” He turned and pulled on his trousers, leaving the room, half-dressed and without finishing the sentence.

Anya brushed herself off. “Um. Right.” She sat back by Llew. “I’m so sorry, Llew.” She started to reach for Llew’s hand, stopped, and returned her own hand to the mattress. “So sorry.”

More thin smiles passed between them. Anya’s gaze shifted to the head of Llew’s bed, where the locket she’d had rushed to her in Brurun hung from a hook in the wall.

She looked down, her fingers fidgeting. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give a clearer warning. I didn’t really know what he had planned, and I had to fit it on such a tiny note. When I hadn’t heard anything from you, I’d hoped you’d run with Jonas. But I guess I should’ve known. If you’d got away, Gaemil would have heard something.”

“I never got to read it.”

Anya looked up. “What?”

“There was never a chance to look without Aris or Karlani seeing, and I figured you didn’t want them to see. I tried to be vigilant, Anya. But it’s so hard when everywhere I turn, I’m surrounded by hate.”

Again, several moments of silence passed between them. The easy openness was shattered; for the time being, anyway.

“All the books we were reading … They’re gone. Burnt.” Anya took a deep breath, like she was suppressing an outburst. “The library smelt terrible. Actually, I quite liked the smell, but I suppose I shouldn’t, should I?” She took a moment to ponder that. “No,” she said quietly. “I knew it was Aris. And I knew he was planning something. I sent a message to Quaver, too, but clearly that achieved nothing.”

Anya fumed silently for a few more moments. Llew didn’t have an answer. They’d barely been inside the barracks before Aris turned on them. Who knew what Anya could have hoped to achieve from Rakun?

“I planted my Ajnai seed,” Anya said after a while. “Goodness, they grow fast. You should see it. It’s already practically a full-sized tree. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s great.”

“And, while I thought nothing of it at the time, it burst into seed days before I got Jonas’s message. Almost like it knew. So, I brought some with me. I know Quaver destroyed all the Ajnais they found, but surely times are changing. I mean, you and Jonas. And Aris. Whatever the books say, there’s something going on and the Ajnais are part of that. As were your babies.”

Something dropped in Llew’s stomach, and she almost forgot to breathe.

Anya lifted a hand to grab Llew’s, offer her comfort, but remembered in time that Llew was still injured and withdrew.

“Maybe you should plant one for them. It would be a fitting memorial, don’t you think? It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To give them a proper funeral?”

Llew opened her mouth to speak but found she couldn’t shape that word: babies. Anya looked back, her expression pained, mirroring Llew, though she clearly didn’t know why. Llew changed tack. “Them?”

“Oh!” Anya’s fingertips went to her lips. “You didn’t know? Hisham briefed me on my way in, so I thought …” She slumped, full of sorrow. “I thought you knew.”

“Them?” Llew repeated. She’d been mourning the loss of one child already. Three weeks had now passed, and she hadn’t even known about another. Surely, she should have. Shouldn’t she have felt something, known something?

“I thought Jonas would have told you. I’m sure he wouldn’t have forgotten. He probably didn’t want to upset you. And here I come along …” Anya stopped.

“I needed to know.”

“Yes, of course. But maybe not from me.”

“Tell me.”

Anya inhaled and shook her head one way, then relented.

“Aris killed one,” Anya continued, her eyes boring into Llew, seeking signs she’d said too much, but Llew wanted to hear. “There was a second, but the doctor said you wouldn’t be able to carry it safely. There was no way you could heal and grow a baby at the same time. I’m so sorry, Llew.”

Aris had only killed one of her babies. And the other? The other had died because she was too broken to save it. She rolled over to face the wall, risking the pain to curl in on herself.

“Apparently, the doctor said we were lucky to still have you as it was,” Anya murmured. “Well, not in those words …” Anya let her voice fade away and rested a hand on Llew’s shoulder while sobs shook her.

“What’s going on?” Jonas asked from the doorway.

Llew rolled to her back, wiping her tears away with the back of her forearm.

“I told her. There were two,” Anya said over her shoulder. She turned back to Llew and squeezed her shoulder.

Jonas crossed the room to Llew’s bed. “I’m sorry, Llew. I was gonna tell you.” He crouched, grabbed some loose sheet, and clasped Llew’s hand.

“See?” Anya smiled.

“There was never a right time. I dunno—” Jonas shrugged, and his face pinched against so many unspoken words. “—I guess there’s never gonna be a right time. I guess … I just want you to get better.”

Llew didn’t know what to say. Some part of her wanted to be angry at Jonas. But how could she be? All she could do was mourn anew, for the child she hadn’t known needed her tears. Her vision wobbled, and Jonas leaned in, placing one arm over her, and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’ll um …” Anya began, and then she slipped from the room, leaving the couple to grieve.