Dagger-Star by Elizabeth Vaughan
Red stayed back, because Beast wasn’t alone. There was a man—no, a lad—there, trying to free his reins while avoiding Beast’s teeth. Beyond them, Red could see a steading in the distance, with smoke rising from the roof of the house, and a small barn beyond that.
Warmth and shelter, maybe. Red drew a breath and let it out slowly. She just had to be careful. Only one way to find out.
She stepped forward and hailed the lad.
THANKFULLY, the boy’s mother was willing to shelter them. “There’s the barn, although the smithy’s better for sleeping warm.” Larrisa pointed to a long building apart from the others. “Light a fire in the forge and the loft heats up fast.”
Red nodded, grateful. “Sorry for scaring the lad so bad.”
“Wasn’t scared,” Therrin protested.
Larrisa raised an eyebrow. “He shouldn’t have been out there, Warrior.” She sighed, and Red could see the weariness in her face. The woman was plump, but there were tired lines in her face.
“Ah, Ma.” The boy blushed. “Was trying to help the horse.”
Larrisa shook her head. “As horse-mad as your father was.”
“Nothing wrong with running,” Josiah said. “I’d have run from her, too, the way she looks.”
Therrin shot him a grateful look.
Red looked down at herself, and had to snort her agreement. Between the muck and the blood, she probably looked like death warm—
Josiah’s dead face floated before her mind’s eye, and she cut that thought off.
Larrisa looked them all over. “Well, you do look a fright. You probably ran into them that killed my man a fortnight ago.”
Red stiffened. “Them? There’s more about?”
Larrisa nodded. “Raiders. But we’ve stout walls. We can talk in the morning. You need to get that one warm, and now. There’s water in the well, and I’ll send out soap and what clothes I can spare.” Bethral wrapped an arm around Ezren, who stumbled forward. Oris and Alad followed behind.
Red tugged on Beast’s reins. “We’ll put this one to pasture.”
Larrisa shook her head. “Put him in the barn. Leaving him out will just draw raiders. There’s feed enough, since all our horses but one have been stolen, and that one is ill. She’s in the back stall.”
Bethral’s head jerked around. “Ill?”
Larrisa nodded, her face filled with pain. “Something else we can talk about. It’s nothing that she’ll share with yours. Get warm and clean. I’ve two little ones to see to. I’ll share what food I can.”
Red nodded, and tugged Beast’s reins. He followed along, quiet as she could wish, and she was grateful for his cooperation.
The barn was big, with clean stalls. It took some doing, but Beast was too tired to put up a fuss. Red worked as fast as she could, but her body felt heavy and so damn weary. The wet leather of her gloves slid on the pitchfork handle, and she grimaced. No spares to change into, so she was stuck with them for now.
Josiah worked beside her, and she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. Not now. Later. Later, she could see him, feel him against her—
“Let me.” Bethral’s hand grabbed the pitchfork. “I’ll finish in here. You two go get warm and clean. There’s a bucket of warm water waiting in the smithy.”
Josiah sighed behind her, and set his pitchfork against the wall. “Room enough in there for all of us?”
“We’re sleeping in here,” Red growled. “To protect the horse.”
Josiah shrugged. “Wherever. I should sleep like the dead this night.”
Red turned white, and staggered.
Both Josiah and Bethral stared at her. Bethral reached out to steady her. “What haven’t you and Ezren told us, Red?”
Red shook her head. “Later. When we’re private.”
Bethral shrugged. “Go. I will take care of this, and then join you.”
Red and Josiah walked out into the night.
LARRISA didn’t have much, but she was generous with what she had. A thick porridge, with bread and butter. She’d sent the food out with Therrin. “Ma says we’ll talk in the morning.”
Red was too weary to insist otherwise. She’d barely been able to wash up, and had rinsed her gloves over and over, to get the muck out. They were damp now, but at least the smell was gone.
She’d thanked the lad for the food, and shut the door. Bethral returned, and they crammed into the loft, warm from the heat of the forge. There’d been no talk as they ate, just the passing of the loaf and dipping out porridge into the bowls.
But once bellies were full, eyes filled with questions. Red looked at Ezren, but he looked away, and shook his head. She snorted at a storyteller unwilling to tell a tale, but she could hardly blame him. “I woke when someone tugged at my gloves….”
She continued, through the fight and the dash through the bog. She closed her eyes, unable to look at them as she told of their dead bodies, and Ezren’s struggles on the altar. Of the power that had filled the air and brought them back.
There was silence when she finished. Josiah pulled up his tunic, to look at his chest. “Not a mark, not a scar.”
“A vague ache,” Bethral said.
Alad looked down at the gash in his tunic. “Don’t feel any different,” he said with a worried look.
Oris coughed. “Why didn’t it bring the others back?”
Ezren spoke. “Maybe because all I cared about was you. I saw…” He looked at Bethral, and then away. “I saw all of you dead and I just wanted…to change it. To have you back.”
Enough talk. Red spoke up, setting aside her bowl. “Josiah and I will sleep in the barn. Larrisa spoke of raiders, so…”
Oris nodded. “I’ll stand first watch. Alad can spell me.”
“Wake me, Alad,” Bethral said. “I’ll stand until dawn.”
Red opened her mouth to protest, but Bethral cut her off. “No. Of all of us, you’ve had the worst of it. Whatever that magic did, we’re not as tired as you. Sleep tonight.”
Josiah stood, and reached out his hand. Red looked up at him, and took it with a sigh, letting him pull her up from the floor.
“And tomorrow?” Bethral asked softly.
“Will have to wait,” Red replied as she eased open the door of the smithy.
The goats were waiting outside. They milled about for a moment, then trotted toward the barn, expecting them to follow.
The barn smelled of horse and hay. It might not be as warm as the smithy, but it was warmer than a cold camp in the woods. Josiah closed the door behind them, and bolted it. Red rigged a few tools to clatter over if disturbed, fussing until she was satisfied with the arrangement.
The goats bedded down in a pile of straw outside Beast’s stall. Red paused, and reached down to scratch under Snowdrop’s chin. The goat pulled back in surprise, but then leaned her head out and closed her eyes with a murmur of pleasure. Silly thing deserved more of a thanks, but it was the best Red could do for now. She reached out to the rest of them, and they clustered around, making little chuckling noises of pleasure as she gave them all a good scratch around the ears.
Josiah came out of one of the back stalls with an armload of horse blankets. He looked at Red in astonishment.
Red ignored him, patted Snowdrop, then headed up the ladder into the hayloft. She didn’t have a sheath for her weapons, and the damn ladder looked as high as a castle wall, but she gritted her teeth and pulled herself up anyway. Josiah handed up the blankets, and then came up with one of the lanterns in hand.
Josiah hung the lantern from one of the posts, painting the loft in golden light and shadows. It took a few moments to arrange the blankets, but eventually they had a warm nest in the hay. Red stood there, trembling, all the emotion of the day threatening to spill out of her, all the pain, all the…
Josiah moved beside her, and slid his hand down her arm, covering her hand. “Let it go, Red.”
Red looked down, and saw that she was clutching the jagged shard of a dagger. Josia
Red looked at him, at his warm, living face. He smiled, and eased her sword out of her other hand, placing both weapons close by.
Josiah moved then, to stand very close. He eased his hand up her back to rest between her shoulder blades. Red sagged, putting her head on his shoulder, and he took her weight with ease. She was content for the moment, breathing in his scent, as his other arm came up and wrapped around her.
Josiah’s warm hands slid up under her tunic, rubbing her back.
Red just stood there for a long moment, listening to his soft breath and the beat of his heart. She closed her eyes, and didn’t even react when he swept her into his arms and placed her on the blankets. “You’re falling asleep on your feet.”
She blinked up at him, staring at his wonderful living face. He smiled at her and shook his head. “Let’s get you out of these clothes. We’ll be warm enough under the blankets.”
His warm hands eased her tunic off. The looted shoes slid off her feet with no effort, and her trous followed. He avoided her gloves, careful to make no contact with the leather.
The cooler air made her nipples tighten, but Red didn’t reach for the blankets. She just stared as Josiah undressed, gazing at his warm, living flesh. With no mark on his chest, no scar to show. As if it had never happened.
Josiah didn’t linger. He stretched out beside her and pulled the blankets up over them. Once they were covered, he pulled her close, making a face at the touch of her gloves. She drew back, but he shook his head, refusing to release her.
She sighed as he ran his hands over her arms and legs, sharing his heat with her, warming her chilled flesh.
“Sleep, Red.” Josiah’s voice was soft and warm in her ear. “I’m right here.”
She nodded, and closed her eyes. But the images that came were of the altar, of Josiah and Bethral dead on the ground, and Ezren screaming curses.
Her eyes snapped open. Her chest froze, the breath in her body trapped within. She reached out for Josiah, seeking reassurance. He was there, had to be there, beside her, and—
“Easy.” Josiah captured her frantic fingers with his own. “All’s well, Red. I’m fine.” He brought her gloved hand up to his chest. She pressed it there, seeking his warmth, the feel of his skin, the beat of his heart. But wet leather stopped her, and she moaned in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” Josiah stirred beside her, propping himself on an elbow, concern flooding his face.
Red trembled. “I need….”
“What ever you need,” Josiah assured her, covering her hand with his own.
Red swallowed hard. “I need to touch you.”
TWENTY-FIVE
HER wide eyes looked into Josiah’s, frantic and frightened. Concerned, he pulled her to his chest, catching her hands between their bodies. “Whatever you need, Red. We can touch. We are touching.” He moved his legs, rubbing his lower leg against hers.
“No,” came the soft, desperate response. “More. I need to touch you.”
Puzzled, Josiah drew back. It took him a moment, but then he suddenly realized what she meant. “You’re going to take them off?”
Her eyes grew wider, and she shook in his arms. “Ah,” he spoke softly. “You want to, but you can’t, can you?”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “I want….”
“Hush.” He pulled her close, and released her hands so he could rub her back. She shuddered in his arms, more from shock than passion. He looked at the small lantern, burning softly on the beam. “What if we blow out the lantern? Would that be enough? I couldn’t see….” His voice trailed off as he saw her expression. Whatever demons drove her, they wouldn’t let her take off those damn gloves. Unless…
He sat up, careful to keep her covered for whatever warmth the bedding offered. He reached over for his tunic, already torn in the front. He gathered the material in two fists, and tore off a wide strip. And then another, from around the bottom.
“What are you doing?” Red sat up.
Josiah didn’t answer. He just tore a few more strips. “Here. Wrap this around your eyes.”
Red frowned, but did as he asked.
“Can you see?”
She tilted her head a few times. “There’s a bit of light around the edges.” He wound another strip around. “No,” Red said, “I can’t see a thing. But—”
Josiah took the strips off her head, and Red smoothed her hair back, giving him a puzzled look.
He smiled at her, glad to see some calmness back in her eyes. “They’re for me.” He offered her the strips. “Bind my eyes, Red Gloves. Then bind my hands to the beams. Outspread, so I can’t rub my face against them.”
Red’s jaw dropped.
“I trust you.” He leaned in, kissing her soft lips. “I won’t be able to see, or get free. You can take off your gloves, Lady Warrior, with no fear.”
“Josiah,” Red whispered, as if unable to believe. “You’d do this?”
Josiah moved, stretching out on the blankets, centering himself between the two posts. “For you, Lady.”
Red got to her knees, and tied one end of two strips to each beam. Josiah extended his arms, and she tied the strips to his wrists. Josiah tested them, pulling hard. There was a bit of give in the fabric, but not enough to allow him to escape or to touch his face.
Red looked down at him, her face filled with wonder and a hunger he’d never seen. He lifted his head toward her, and she wrapped the fabric around his eyes. But she didn’t stop with one strip; she secured him with three, tying them off. When she was done, Josiah put his head down. He opened his eyes, but there was only utter darkness. He closed them, satisfied that there’d be no chance he could see.
“Can you see anything?” Red demanded.
“No,” he replied, pulling at his bonds. “It’s safe, Red.”
She said nothing, but he felt her shift on the blankets. He gasped as he felt her lips brush over a nipple.
“You’re certain?” she asked again. Josiah swallowed, and nodded, unable to trust his voice. The sensation was so different, not knowing when or where or—
Cold steel touched his other nipple.
Josiah jerked as the tip of a dagger pressed into his skin.
“You really can’t see,” Red whispered.
“I trust you,” Josiah repeated, ignoring his racing heart. “Whatever you need, Red.”
Silence was his only answer, as she sat beside him. Josiah tried to remember to take in air. He could feel her gaze on his skin, and his body responded. He did trust her, but there was something about being so vulnerable. So exposed. He drew another breath, and then felt her move.
She was drawing off her gloves.
The leather was wet, and he could hear her tugging at the fingers, loosening them in order to pull them off. He shifted on the blanket. He couldn’t help but wonder. Were they disfigured somehow? Blackened and stained? Or maybe they were claws, hard and sharp, that would pierce his skin—
He jumped at her touch. Her fingertips were cold, and damp from the leather, but they felt normal against his skin. She placed them on his chest, just below his collarbone, and paused there. Her fingers warmed as she hesitated.
“Whatever you need,” Josiah urged her on, breathing deeply, trying not to struggle against his bonds. She needed this, needed to know that he lived.
Her hands pressed down now, palms over his nipples. Her fingers curled, and her fingertips moved over his skin with the barest of touches. He licked his lips, wanting more.
She explored his chest, tracing the lines of muscle, caressing the hairs. Josiah’s breath came faster as her hands moved lower and lower still. Red made no sound, but Josiah could feel her focus on him, on his body, as she explored.
He was lost, lost in the darkness, lost in the feel of her touch. He moaned as she moved past his hips, stroking his thighs and the soft skin behind his knees. Si
“Touch me,” he asked, wanting more of her, but Red ignored him, retracing her path up his body until her fingers explored his neck and face. Softer than snowflakes, they touched him, fluttering over his cheeks and lips.
Josiah opened his mouth to plead, but Red covered his lips with hers, claiming a kiss. He could feel wetness on her face.
Red Gloves was crying.
He licked his lips, tasting the salt of her tears. “Red—”
She moved then, wrapping her hand around him, guiding him into her depths as she straddled his body. He arched his back, thrusting up at the sudden touch, and slid into her wet heat.
She set the pace of their dance, and it was a slow one, each giving as much as was taken. Josiah climbed higher and higher as he strove to bring her with him. Unable to touch, all he could do was thrust, accepting the pleasure of her touch, her body, her mouth on his.
For one single moment, it felt as if they moved as one, then Josiah fell over the edge, crying out her name. In that brief instant, he thought she cried out his name as well, then all was lost in a bright swirl of pure release.
Eventually he stirred, and opened his eyes to find himself free, with Red curled at his side, her gloves on her hands. He shifted slightly, and kissed her eyes as she lay sleeping. Red stirred, but didn’t awaken.
The tear tracks remained on her face, and he frowned at the sight. He stroked her face with his fingers, drying those tears. There was so much about his kitten that he didn’t know.
Red roused slightly, and turned her head so that her lips brushed over his palm. Josiah smiled softly. Maybe he couldn’t guard her body, but he could protect her heart, for as long as she allowed.
He settled down in the hay, making sure that the blankets covered them both completely. Red murmured a protest at the movement, then cuddled closer. He smiled at the beams over his head, and closed his eyes to sleep.