Free Voice of the Lost : Medair Part 2 by Andrea K. Höst Page A

Ahrenrhen Wall.  Concern for the heir, or an instinctive desire to protect a bond he would not acknowledge?
    "I ceased pursuit after a while, behaved more appropriately, though I still find myself trying to prove myself to him.  If he will not love me as a son, he will as Kier."
    "Show," Medair murmured.  Islantar turned again, then drew himself up into a sitting position.
    "Show?"
    "You don't know how he feels, merely what he shows you.  And you are talking about this to me because–?"
    "Because I cannot be certain you will not attempt to take your life again," Islantar replied, with a note of sorrow.  "I think if you ran from him, he would be quite capable of finding you wherever you went.  If you were killed, he would bear the wound always, but go on.  I do not believe he would survive your suicide.  And I do not wish to lose him."
    For once, Islantar sounded his age.  He looked down, but had recovered his equilibrium by the time Medair could summon a reply.
    "I'm not going to kill myself, Kierash," she said, surprised at her own certainty.  "I don't know what precisely I will do, but that moment has passed at least."  She grimaced.  "You remember everything, then?  You were very disoriented before."
    "For a short time I was the Niadril Kier," he said.  He lifted a hand, but stopped short of touching his face.  "I thought his thoughts, felt what he felt.  I...do not remember a great deal of his life, only snatches, things which occurred to him while he was...within me.  You are very different now, to how he first saw you.  He could not decide if you look more or less vulnerable."
    Medair winced.  "Please.  I would prefer it if you didn't tell me things like that."
    "The need to demonise the enemy.  He understood it."  Islantar nodded, then caught himself.  "I'm sorry.  It was one of the most profound experiences of my life.  What could impact me more than being someone else, let alone such a man?  I cannot talk about it to anyone else, not in the same way, but I won't keep reviving the past for you."
    He turned, looking back towards the spur once again.  "There has been some movement down the road from the castle," he told her.  "A patrol went past, circling the hill, but did no more than glance cursorily into the caves.  The one behind the spur is deep enough to hide a thousand."
    Medair, her tentative equilibrium shredded by thoughts of Ieskar, decided that packing would be the most sensible thing to do while they waited.  To focus on moving forward, instead of wallowing in the past.  She had barely finished when Islantar leaned forward, briefly exposing himself to make some signal.
    "He has someone with him, two people," the Kierash said.  "We should go down now, carefully."
    Following the Kierash out of the cave, Medair craned to see Cor-Ibis' two companions.  They were immediately recognisable: the red-haired Velvet Hand, Liak ar Haedrin, and the male kaschen, an Serentel.  Her heart was heavy as she eased down among the rocks, keeping behind what little shelter the uneven hillside offered.  Avahn and Ileaha had been her companions for weeks, were friends, despite their Ibisian blood.  Just as Cor-Ibis, no matter how white his skin, was the man she loved.
    Acknowledging that fact didn't diminish the difficulty of her future, but it did allow her to meet his eyes directly, and not flinch away from what had happened between them in the dark.  Whatever else, she would not run.
    He waited until she was close, then touched the back of her hand.  It was the only gesture he allowed himself as they headed into the cave behind the spur, but it was apparently enough for Liak ar Haedrin and an Serentel, who were not nearly correct enough to hide their comprehension.  They seemed startled, oddly pleased.  Medair again felt that wash of shame, and tried to fight it.  They were not enemies, and there was no dishonour in caring for this man.
    "We cannot move on until the patrol has passed