Chapter 24

“Silver.”

Something warm and inviting moved through me—the soft touch of consciousness. But I was swimming in the deep waters, only noticing a faint glimmer of light above.

“Silver,” the voice called again. Was that my name?

Emptiness anchored me to the cold waters, pulling me down. I fought against it and surfaced through the hollows of my eyelids. When they opened, they heavily drank in the images that swirled and blurred before they closed again.

“That’s it, come on. Wake up, love.”

“Is she alive?” another one shouted from a distance.

Familiar voices.

Warmth penetrated through soft fabric against my cheek. Miles of arms wrapped around me. I smelled cinnamon, tasted blood, and felt the sharp sting of winter’s breath on my skin. A deep inhale reminded me that I was alive, and I shook in violent upheavals from coughing. Slivers of pain welcomed themselves back into my body, so I closed my eyes… anchors away.

“There now, you’re safe. Silver, open your eyes.” The voice was worried and demanding. A finger pulled at my lid and I turned my head, moaning. “Open your eyes and come back to us. That’s not a request, it’s an order.”

A hand combed through my bloodied hair, pulling it away from my face. Shivers rolled through me as the world fell into focus. As Simon came into focus.

“Justus!” he shouted, the sound vibrating against my ear. “She’s awake.”

My neck turned left slowly until I saw Justus kneeling on top of Samil with his hands gripped onto something directly over his chest. A knife. Samil moaned and Justus twisted the knife in violent movements, provoking another scream.

It wasn’t a dream.

Simon knelt with me in his arms. “We’ll fix you, I swear to it.”

He carefully rose to his feet. Justus also rose, placing his foot on the handle of the dagger, and another long moan escaped Samil.

An icy breeze caressed my skin, as did the sudden awareness that I was mostly naked. I twisted uncomfortably.

“Justus, she needs to be cared for. I will take her,” Simon urged.

The snow crunched underneath Simon’s feet as we neared my Ghuardian. His face was cut, although the bleeding had stopped, and his sweater was stained with blood. I lowered my gaze, unable to look him in the eye. My body shivered and I pressed against Simon.

Justus caught Samil’s eyes lingering on me and anger flared as he forcefully kicked him in the face, knocking Samil’s head in the other direction.

“You do not look at her!” He pushed the knife in, as if it could possibly go in any farther.

Justus peeled off his thick sweater in one swift movement. Neither was dressed for the cold. Justus did, however, have time to strap on weaponry. His muscles flexed as he inched near enough that he could gently tuck his sweater over me and it was searing hot, a welcome warmth. A worried expression blotted with anger spread over his face and I closed my eyes. The richness of spice and smoke from the fabric filled my nose.

“I’ll take care of her. You take care of him ,” Simon growled. “Call the Council and have him detained.”

Justus looked at me with regard and once again, I averted my eyes.

In a low whisper he asked, “Why does she refuse to look at me?”

“You’re a bloody fool. Do you treat her as a Mage with value? Do you talk to her, or at her? I know what it feels like to be treated as a dog; it doesn’t take a beating to instill that. It merely takes a word. You have locked her away, taught her only to protect herself, not valuing her worth as a fighter. What hopes have you given her for a future other than victim? This is not the dark ages, Justus. Females now have a place.” Simon turned when Justus gripped his arm.

“Do you not think I respect her? Remember, I chose to be her Ghuardian. She called my name… I heard it.”

“And we can argue about this later. She is suffering.”

The grip loosened and we quickly moved away. A moment later, I heard Samil’s screams slice through the night, one I had longed to hear, and one that went on and on as Justus exacted his punishment.

***

My lips parted and a biting scent filled my nose, settling on my tongue like candy. A soft pillow cradled my head and my eyes drifted open.

A dim light illuminated the corner of the room from a small lamp with a red shade. Scattered across the bed were soft fur blankets over black sheets. There was a small writing table that held a stack of books that were precariously close to tipping over. The door ahead was slightly ajar.

Simon slept in an oversized chair near the bed with his hair obscuring his face. His breathing was heavy and I could see one part of his face that gave the most peaceful angelic expression. His jeans were dirty and wet at the bottom. As I leaned over even more, I saw his feet were dirty and bare.

The sheet was pulled aside and I looked down at my healed body. Each mark had been individually tended. I still felt exhausted; no amount of energy could possibly restore what I had lost.

I wore a long, white T-shirt and thick socks pulled up almost to the knees. I still had blood matted in my hair and caked beneath my fingernails. I started to push myself up when a hand reached out and settled me back down.

Simon’s warm eyes scolded me. “Not so fast, you. Stay as you were, you need to rest.”

“Where am I?” My voice came out broken and raspy, so I cleared my throat.

I watched Simon’s face harden. His eyes were locked on my thigh where there were bruising fingerprints. One he had missed, as it was in such a personal area he must have avoided looking while he dressed me.

“Simon, just leave it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I sighed.

Something dark unleashed behind the depths of his glowing eyes as he pulled in a long breath through his nose.

He did not wait for a response and touched my leg as his eyes never moved away from mine. Within a few moments, the bruises were gone. All evidence was erased.

Simon retracted his hand and his features softened. “This is my home I always keep open. It was the closest place we could bring you, and you’re safe here. Nothing to worry about, I’ve got alarm systems that go out to the bloody street. I just want you to rest.”

“You healed me?”

He nodded in the affirmative and reached for a glass of water, bracing my neck as I took a sip. I nearly lurched at the glass, not having realized until that moment the intensity of my thirst. It rushed into my empty stomach, cold and uninviting, and burned my dry throat. I stopped to allow it to settle. My stomach did not protest so I took more sips.

“He did not feed you?”

“Where is Justus?”

The glass tapped on the wood table and he turned away. “Calling the Council. What he did…”

“Is Samil dead?”

Simon let out a long, heavy sigh. “Not yet. It is against our laws to kill another Mage—justified or not—everything must go through the Council. Justus wants Samil’s death, do not doubt it. He is very clever and we will find your justice. It is not against our law for a Creator to control or even use their Learner, we have to prove the intent was more.”

“He wanted to kill me.” My eyes went blank as my mind recalled those moments in the field. “I fought him, Simon. I knew I couldn’t beat him, but I fought him with everything I had left.”

“You fought as well as any Mage could be expected to in their first year of being. I’m impressed, and one day you will be a strong warrior.” When Simon looked at me, I saw anger on his face. “Don’t you ever doubt yourself; you must always do whatever it takes to survive.”

“What is a Unique?”

He stared at me pensively. “It is Justus who should do this.”

“I have a right to know what I am.”

He turned away, placing both of his feet on the floor and leaned forward on his elbows.

“A Unique is a rarity of our kind. We know very little of them. Your power is different, taking it gives a feeling like no other. It does not make you stronger, but you have the potential to become a powerful Mage. I have only seen one Unique come to full potential in my lifetime. I don’t know enough to tell you what you are, only another Unique could do that. Some consider your kind… dangerous. If your identity is discovered while you are still so young, you would be used as Samil had intended, or killed out of fear.”

“So my power gives an extra kick, but why is that worth anything?”

“If another takes from you, their energy is fueled and some of it becomes part of them, and over time it could increase their power, if they are able to control you. A Unique is a coveted thing by the wrong people. That is why I only know of one; they either stay hidden in secret or they are taken and used.”

“Samil made others like me. I don’t know if they were Uniques, but he’s trading his services for making others. I still don’t understand why I was different; do you think being a Unique has something to do with why my appearance changed?”

“I can’t be sure. We do not know what it is that makes a Unique; is it just a random assortment of light during your creation, or does some of your human genetics play a role?”

I leaned forward and placed my hand on the back of his neck, sweeping his soft hair to the side so I could get a more intimate view of the tattoo on his neck.

“What does this mean?” It was a series of four symbols I ran my finger over.

Simon flinched and stood up, shaking his hair free. He faced me directly and it became obvious how exhausted he was as he struggled to keep up the conversation. His voice was weak and without its usual melodic pitch.

“That is what my Creator gave me. A constant reminder that I also know what it is to have a maker who is corrupt. It’s not a mark meant to be touched with such…” He shook his head and flattened his hair over the spot.

“What, tenderness?”

There it was. Simon and I were connected by that similarity, our lives ran more parallel than I had thought and now I knew why we connected.

Quiet hung over the room like a spell where the slightest disturbance would break it. There was movement behind the door ahead and just beyond the opening I saw the silhouette of Justus. He was standing outside, listening in, but not saying a word. I couldn’t make out his face, only his profile. I wasn’t ready to face him just yet and clearly he didn’t want to see me. That hurt a little more than I expected.

“Do you need anything before I leave you to rest?”

“I could use a bath.” I scraped my fingers through my hair in disgust.

Simon walked into the bedroom hall where I heard him drawing water. I glanced back at the door and Justus was no longer there.

“Here, love, lift up.” He slid his arm beneath my legs and carried me. I rested my head against him and, as we neared the tub, I stole a moment to admire him. He wasn’t just decent—he was a man of character.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to join you. I’m going to put you down in the water and you can remove your shirt when I leave. There are fresh towels here. Just go straight back to bed when you are done.”

As he set me down, I felt the delicious water, so inviting, surrounding my body like a warm caress. Simon removed each sopping wet sock, one at a time, before he tossed them into a hamper.

“Do you need anything?”

I ignored him, dunking my head in the water and trying to remove the vile clumps of blood. I heard a cabinet open and close before a hand came across my forehead, gathering my hair up.

“Sit up. I’ll wash your hair.”

I didn’t argue. Simon tenderly held my head as he wet my hair with a pitcher of water, lathering in his hands shampoo that smelled of vanilla and coconut. He gently worked it through my dirty scalp and I sighed in relief.

I tried to remember the last time I had been taken care of like this, and I couldn’t.

A tickle ran down my forehead as suds threatened to infiltrate my eyes, but his finger swept across my brow, wiping them away. In the short time I had known Simon, he surprised me at every turn. There was a softer side to him that I could see he kept hidden very well behind the façade of a tough guy. While we had a brief interlude in the bedroom, we didn’t connect to the degree that I deserved such tender affections.

“Lean your head back and keep your eyes shut.” His left hand supported the nape of my neck and a warm stream of water touched the edge of my hairline; I breathed out a long, restful sigh. Simon repeated this several times until his hand ran across my hair and it squeaked.

‘Okay, I’m going to leave you alone.”

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

I paused, a thank you was in order, but what came out instead was, “I don’t want your pity.”

It was the truth. It wasn’t until I became a Mage that I learned what it was to be cared for. Part of me still resisted it, but it was a nurturing that I never had. But having someone do it because they felt sorry for me—I just couldn’t stand the idea of him looking at me as if I were a broken thing.

He placed his hand on my knee. “That is one thing you will never, ever have from me. You have the heart of a warrior, and someday you will have the strength of one.”

I looked up and saw honesty in his eyes. I knew this was a man who had hidden pain of his own. “I know what it’s like, but just remember, love—a scar will always mark you, but never let it define you.” Simon gently touched my hand and left me alone to bathe.

I found the soap and scrubbed myself raw. I drained the tub and ran the water a second time. Once I felt clean enough, I stepped out of the bath and tugged at the chain until water gurgled down the drain. The towel soaked up water from my damp hair before it was tossed in the hamper. While there were no clothes for me to dress in, a thin black robe hung from a hook on the inside door. The fabric was silky and smelled clean as I settled back onto the bed.

It did not escape my attention the sheets had been changed from black to white, and there were extra blankets for me to cover up in. Darkness engulfed me, and just as I was on the brink of falling asleep—a voice called out. His voice.

“Sillllverrrr… you belong to me .”

I let out a wail, flying out of the bed and sliding across the tile of the bathroom. Samil.

With a sudden bang, the bedroom door kicked in and I scurried to the corner, hiding behind the edge of the counter. I tucked my knees against my chest and held my breath, listening to the ominous sound of footsteps bearing down on me.

“Silver… are you ready to beg ?”

When his body moved within my view, I thrust out my foot, kicking him in the groin with no mercy. Immediately, he doubled over and I kicked him again in the chest, sending him to the other side of the room.

My legs sprang up and I snatched a razor from the edge of the sink and flew forward, ready to strike. I saw nothing but blinding rage—I was running in pure survival mode.

Someone slammed into me and knocked the razor free. We fell to the floor but before I hit the tile, he pivoted his body around so that he took the brunt of the fall. I lay across his chest with my arms pinned so tightly that I couldn’t move a fraction. Guttural noises came from my throat as I writhed and kicked.

“Silver, stop !”

I thrashed violently, kicking my legs and flailing my head. While my attempts were genuine, the results were feeble.

“Let it go, Learner. Let it go.” The voice fell to a whisper. “Silver, calm down—it’s Justus.”

I made an animalistic sound before I recognized the voice and stopped struggling. Lying at my feet was a body slumped against the wall with a mop of brown hair covering his face. One knee was bent up with a rip in the jeans and my eyes trailed down to the bare feet.

Simon. I hurt Simon .

I threw my head back in shame as my eyes shut tight; comprehension was beginning to sink in like a dagger. Tightness gripped my chest that had nothing to do with the man pinning me.

“Get him out of my head!” I cried.

My voice dissolved into tears. Whatever held me together was lost. My body shook with unrelenting sobs. I pulled against his solid arms, which held me firmly to him no matter how much I tried to tear them away.

“Stop it; let me go!”

It was like fighting against a wall.

His voice softened against my ear. “Shhh, I’ve got you, Silver, be still. Lean into me. I’m not going to let him take you again. Forgive me. I failed you as a Ghuardian.”

In that moment of clarity, I realized that I did not deserve the respect these men gave me. I wept on his cheek, and the minute I realized what I was doing I jerked away and hid beneath my wet hair. Samil didn’t go as far as he might have, but in the past week I felt violated, robbed of my dignity, stripped of my independence, and treated like an animal. I had tried to stay tough and imagine myself as a warrior—but part of me was still human.

“He ruined me.”

“You are not ruined.” His hand brushed my hair gently away from my tear-stained face as the other still held me. Warmth radiated from his body and my chest rocked with heavy sobs that I was powerless to stop.

Justus cradled my wet cheek. “You break me with those tears, Silver. Please don’t cry.”

I calmed, taking slow breaths until the remains of my despair had faded.

“As long as I’m with you, I will keep you safe.”

“And how long will that be for?”

He did not hesitate, answering the moment I spoke the last word. “For the rest of my life.”

Justus pushed himself up to sitting position and loosened his hold. I leaned against him, wiping my face.

“I will train you properly and you will learn to fight. You will have the future you deserve—an independent one. You will be strong enough to protect yourself one day and have a job within the Mageri. I did not prepare you as I should have; this is my fault.”

He jaw flexed and I could see he was taking it personally. There was no need. I’d come to realize that my life was out of my hands, as were many of the decisions.

“This life wasn’t my choice and I used that as my crutch, my out for not following your rules. But I am making a choice now.” I shifted to face him so he could see my sincerity. “I choose to be a Mage; I’ll listen to you from now on and will learn. This is my life, and I accept it.” I sniffed and wiped my damp lashes.

His stare was prideful. “I’ve never given you kind words, Silver. It does not mean that I am without them when I think of you. You’re sterling, that’s what you are. Always remember that.”

My eyes met his, accepting the compliment. Justus hadn’t been taking care of himself. His hair was grown out some and one cut on his face had not completely healed. I lifted my fingers to the gash that ran along his cheek when he caught my wrist. Without a word, I twisted free of his grip and pressed my hand over his wound. As my light began to work itself and heal his cut, it was the first time Justus really looked at me. With my hand cupping the side of his fearless features, his eyes regarded me with admiration.

A low moan redirected my attention to Simon. His head was against the tile wall at a peculiar angle.

I crawled over. “Simon? Please wake up. I’m so sorry.” His eyes fluttered as if he were on the brink, but couldn’t quite pull out of it.

“Move; let me.”

I backed up, sliding across the grey flooring as my robe picked up a little of the water that was left behind from my bath.

Justus leaned over Simon, holding his hands across his chest.

“Simon—wake ,” he commanded. I had a feeling there was some kind of energy thing going on that snapped him out of it.

Simon’s eyebrows sank into his sockets and he bared his teeth—hissing in pain before letting out a snarl. I jumped, having never seen a more visceral reaction.

Justus threw his hands around Simon’s head, cradling it like a melon, and tiny threads of light, so fine they could have been cobwebs, drifted from his fingertips.

Within a few seconds, Simon started coughing. Justus pulled him up to a sitting position.

“You okay in there?” He knocked on Simon’s head jokingly and I smiled a little.

Simon’s face strained—the rope of muscle in his neck was taut and he grimaced. Suddenly, he reached for a fistful of shirt and pulled Justus so hard they were nose to nose.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Simon grunted through his clenched teeth, “but fuck my head, mate! Put your bleeding hands on my balls !”

I sat back, laughing, as Justus considered his request.

“I swear I’ll never tell.” I said, crossing my heart.

As Justus aided a friend in need, Simon’s eyes flitted around, falling on me before amusement stirred in his face. “I probably deserved that.”

My humor receded. “I didn’t know it was you. I’m so—”

“Fearless.”

I knew in that moment I had more than an acquaintance in him, and a Ghuardian in Justus. I had companions, men I would be able to count on.

Some men do stick around.