Future Dreams (12 page)

Tigh lifted her eyes from behind her white covered kneecaps. “Is that what this is about? Expectations?”

“Mostly.” Jame sighed. “But it’s only because of what she holds in her own mind, not what’s in mine. I want to tell you my story after I see Argis. I only ask one thing in return.” Struggling with the need to trust Jame, Tigh nodded. “Have Otlar take care of that cut. And wait for me.”

Tigh lowered her eyes. A part of her wanted to run as fast as she could away from everything that led to the hurt that burned through her at the thought that another may have already claimed Jame’s heart. But she’d never seen any lie in Jame’s attitude toward her as she had seen in so many others. Nothing could hurt more than what she was feeling, except hurting Jame by not giving in to such a small request. “I’ll wait.”

“Promise me,” Jame said.

Tigh looked up at the raw emotion in Jame’s voice and saw the desperate pleading in her night darkened eyes. At that moment, huddled on cold bricks in the middle of the night, surrounded by the brooding adobe of Ynit, she realized that her life had meaning again. That meaning was called Jame.

“I promise,” she whispered.

JAME TOPPED THE steps and saw Tas pacing the length of the short corridor. Smart of Lon to put them in a little used part of the establishment, in case any loud discussions disrupted the other guests.

Tas stilled her agitated feet and hung her head in embarrassment. “She heard about you defending Tigh the Terrible and went crazy. She thinks you’re being forced into helping her. I came along to keep her out of trouble.”

Jame took a deep breath to get her anger under control and put a hand on Tas’s shoulder. “Thank you for being a good friend. Do you think I’m being forced into anything?”

Tas shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it to me.”

“I was just doing my job and tonight, I was giving my friend a chance to relax a bit after her recent ordeals,” Jame said.

“She heard the two of you laughing . . .” Tas ran a hand through her shaggy hair. “You know how Argis can get.”

“Yeah, I know. Wish me luck.” Jame rapped on the door and pushed it open.

“Tigh’s the lucky one,” Tas mumbled as she slumped against the far wall.

Jame gave Tas a curious look then closed the door behind her and let the silence spark for several heartbeats while she waited for Argis to turn away from the window. The muscles in Argis’s back tensed with anger and confusion.

“Why are you here?” Jame finally asked.

“We heard that you were defending Tigh the Terrible,” Argis said to the window. “The school had pledged to keep you out of danger.”

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Jame said.

Argis spun around. “How can you say that? She’s Tigh the Terrible.”

“Was Tigh the Terrible,” Jame said. “Besides, if she were still dangerous, you’d be dead.”

“Why didn’t she fight back?” Argis asked. “The impulse to fight can’t be cleansed from them.”

“That’s true. But the impulse to fight when provoked is gone,” Jame said. “She has no idea why you assaulted her. You walked into a public establishment and dragged a stranger into the street and flattened her with your fist.”

Argis stared uncomprehending at Jame. “You’re an Emoran princess. That should have been enough to tell her that I was just trying to protect you.”

“From what? Eating too much?” Jame shook her head and raised beseeching eyes to Laur. “We were sharing a meal.”

“Why?” Argis asked.

“We were hungry.” Jame fought to keep her anger down. Argis’s jealous possessiveness may have been endearing when they had been young but now it grated on every nerve in her body.

“Do you share a meal with all your clients? In a safe house? In an intimate corner?” Argis crossed her arms in a smug challenge.

“No. Tigh’s the first,” Jame said. “I consider her a friend.”

“A friend?” Argis’s incredulous bark echoed off the white-washed walls. “Now I know I have to get you away from here. How could you be so naive to think Tigh the Terrible sees you as anything other than a conquest?”

“How can you be so naive to think you know everything about someone you’ve never even seen before, much less spoken to?” Jame worked to control her anger. “If you’re questioning my ability to recognize suitable friends, I’m questioning my choice of you as a friend. It’s always been about you and what you want me to be in relation to you.”

Argis looked dumbstruck. “Everything I’ve done has been for you.”

“I have a choice on how to live my life before I become queen.” Jame kept her words steady but her voice quavered from too many conflicting emotions. “I told you before I left Emor that I may decide to be an arbiter for a while. You wouldn’t even listen to me. You just patted me on the head and told me how proud you were and then went on about your plans for when I returned to Emor for good.”

“You really want to do that rather than come home and start a life with me?”

The desperate look in Argis’s gray eyes wrenched at Jame’s soft heart. She wished Argis would just understand instead of reacting to her words as if they were mortal blows.

The image of another emotionally wounded warrior colored Jame’s thoughts. She’d caused the pain of two warriors that night.
How did I get myself into this mess?
She admitted it was her softheartedness that had stopped her from breaking off with Argis when she first realized she wasn’t sure of her feelings anymore. Except the only rival for Argis’s affections at that time had been her desire to become an arbiter.

Now it was different. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed Tigh’s company in a way she had never experienced with Argis.

“At this time, yes.” Jame held up a hand before Argis could respond. “What if you were told you had to give up being a warrior because it wasn’t what everyone wanted you to be?”

“This is different,” Argis said.

“In what way?”

“You’re our princess. You need to be where we can protect you.” Argis ran a hand through her short-cropped hair.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Jame said. “I do have a choice as to how to live my life. Many Emoran princesses have gone out to experience the world before settling in Emoria. It’s just the recent idea of isolationism has made this tradition less common. Jyac didn’t send you here. You took it upon yourself to come here and try to impose your will on me.”

“Impose my will?” Argis choked on the words. “We’re to be joined. I think I have some say in your decisions for the future.”

“Would you be willing to come with me while I pursue being an arbiter?” Jame asked.

Argis looked as if she’d been slammed in the face with the flat of a sword.

Jame sighed. “Go home, Argis. I appreciate your concern for my safety but I’m in no danger. I’ll visit Emor when I’ve finished my schooling. We’ll see how I feel after I’ve received my arbiter’s medallion.”

“I’ll return home under one condition.” Argis straightened in an attempt to restore her dignity. “Be careful around that woman.”

“I’ll be careful around her,” Jame said.

Argis captured Jame’s eyes. “And you’ll return to Emor before you take any arbiter positions. So we can talk.”

“I’ll return to Emor and we’ll talk.” Jame nodded, feeling relief they had come to some kind of agreement. Maybe by that time she’ll have thought of a way to make everyone happy.

Chapter 10

“Your friend is out back,” Otlar said before Jame had a chance to open her mouth.

“Thank you.” Jame gave Otlar a grateful look. “Did she let you take care of her cut?”

“She did.” Otlar nodded.

“This is for the meal and for the disruption.” Jame held out several pieces of silver.

Otlar shook her head at the money. “She took care of it.”

Jame frowned. “Tigh?”

“She paid for the meal and apologized for the commotion,” Otlar said.

Jame chuckled. “I didn’t know she had any money.”

“Have a good night, my princess,” Otlar said.

“You too, Otlar,” Jame said.

She negotiated the back corridor into the cool dark air. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy alley, she focused on Tigh slumped against the opposite wall, knees pulled tightly to her chin.

Jame crossed the small alleyway and sank cross-legged next to Tigh, who looked as if she was bracing herself for another blow. The tension from her confrontation with Argis flowed out of her. Something about the passive Tigh, even in her tense state, had a calming effect on her.

“I’m sorry we were interrupted like that.” Jame studied Tigh’s tight features, half hidden in shadow, and knew she had to work hard to bring Tigh back to her. “I haven’t enjoyed myself like that in years.” Tigh blinked but kept her eyes focused on the scuff on her knee. “I have to tell you, I don’t know if I’m more angry at Argis for ruining the good time I was having with you or for punching a stranger in the mouth.”

Tigh swallowed and glanced at Jame. “I’m sorry I acted like I had some kind of . . . You know what I mean.” Tigh cast an agonized gaze at the safe house door.

Jame stared at Tigh for several heartbeats before she understood the strange apology. Instead of being angry about having to sport a ripened bruise and cut lip for the next several days, Tigh was preoccupied by what she thought was an inappropriate reaction to the woman who hit her. Tigh was mortified that she was jealous of Argis.

Jame knew she was about to step into the same territory she thought she had inhabited with Argis, except this one had more vivid and realistic landscapes. She let that thought seep through her consciousness.

“I didn’t feel you were out of bounds with your reaction. And you do have some kind of hold on me.”

Tigh stared at her, stunned. Jame was certainly getting a lot of practice in hitting warriors on their blind side that night.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.” Jame stood up and held a hand out to Tigh, who still looked as if the evening was going to leave her miserable, in spite of Jame’s words. “I promise my story will have a happy ending.”

“For you or for me?” Tigh asked.

Jame took Tigh’s hand. “For both of us.”

TIGH WAS AMAZED at how the events of a single evening could go from wonderful to miserable to utterly magical. Sauntering through the quiet back streets of Ynit hand in hand because Jame refused to release her hand once she had a firm grasp of it. Listening to Jame’s soothing voice as she told her life’s story. Understanding it more than Jame probably realized. At least understanding the essence of it as far as family expectations and how narrow the sheltered worlds where they were raised could be. Standing in awkward shyness outside the arbiters’ residence and covering the disappointment that the long evening was ending too soon with the promise of sharing the next midday meal. The quick kiss to her cheek that set fire to her senses . . .

“Tigh?”

Tigh cast a sheepish look at Bede. “Sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bede asked. “Maybe you hit your head when you fell—”

“I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head,” Tigh said. “I’m just tired.”

Bede studied her for a heartbeat then nodded and turned back to the young boy on a cot. “Now once the wound has been stitched, we put this salve on it to ease the pain and prevent infection.”

Tigh wrinkled her nose at the bitter odor of the herbs in the salve. Guards, being nearly invincible in battle, never spent much time in infirmaries during the Wars.

A familiar voice reached her keen hearing and she turned to see Jame enter the ward. She looked at the sand clock. Too early for the midday meal.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled and met Jame halfway down the ward.

“Hey,” Jame said. “I know, I’m early. Pendon wants to see both of us about the little incident last night.”

“Pendon,” Tigh said.

“He just wants a full report. For the records,” Jame said.

Tigh shook her head. “They’re going to make a fuss over it.”

“It wasn’t your fault and you weren’t the one who exhibited violent behavior,” Jame said.

Jame’s indignation soothed Tigh’s fears. “I’m glad you’re my arbiter. I have to tell Bede.” She trotted past nearly empty beds to Bede.

“Pendon wants to see me. About last night,” Tigh said.

“If you need a few good words, just let me know.” Bede placed a fatherly hand on her arm.

Tigh was stunned. She never expected anyone to volunteer to say kind words about her. “Thank you.”

Still a bit dumbfounded, she joined Jame and they left the infirmary.

“Why do you think they’re going to make a fuss about this?” Jame asked as they strode across the plaza to the fortress.

Tigh shrugged. “Because he wants to see us both.”

“I’m a witness to the incident,” Jame said.

“You’re also my arbiter,” Tigh said. “As a witness, you would have been asked to submit your statement in writing.”

“They can make as much fuss as they want,” Jame said. “They can’t do anything because you didn’t react with violence.”

Tigh could almost see Jame’s keen mind working out the arguments in her defense. The idea that someone would stand up for her took her breath away. The fact that it was Jame filled her with a disbelieving wonder.

They entered the fortress and strode down the wide main corridor to Pendon’s office.

An assistant healer met them at the door. “Please come this way.”

Tigh exchanged glances with Jame and they followed the healer to a consulting chamber. As they stepped across the threshold, Tigh no longer needed to speculate on the nature of the meeting. Pendon, looking apologetic, sat at an oval-shaped table. Leona and Tribune Sitas flanked him, neither a surprise to Tigh. But the presence of Rantigar, raking cool eyes over Jame, put Tigh on her guard.

The irony that she was going through the same pressures from home as Jame wasn’t lost on her. But for the first time she was possessed with the urge to fight for both their rights to lives of their own choosing. Besides, she didn’t like the disdain in Rantigar’s eyes when she looked at Jame.

“Thank you for coming.” A subdued Pendon motioned them in. Tigh and Jame sat in the chairs closest to the door. “I’ll turn it over to you, Tribune.”