It needed to match Tom’s native turyn, and it also needed to remove the sickness in the man’s blood, making it similar to his own. Will spent several minutes tuning his turyn. The process was somewhat similar to what he had done with Tailtiu, when he had learned to give himself different kinds of night vision.
He felt the rightness of it when the turyn came into phase with what he desired, and then he began to push, forcing his power into the wounded man’s arteries and veins until the flow of blood began to carry it throughout the man’s body.
It took considerably more power than he thought he had spent on Joey, but he kept the flow of turyn slow, letting his body replenish his store from the environment so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Time passed at a rate unknown to him, so deep was his concentration. At some point he heard the rustle of grass behind him, as someone walked closer, but he never looked up.
Gradually, Tom’s breathing smoothed, and his groaning stopped. The man’s body cooled, and the redness of his skin returned to its normal color. When Will felt he had done enough, he stopped the flow of turyn. He needed to get up, to find a fresh bandage, but he stumbled as he started to rise.
Strong hands caught his arm, steadying him. Isabel was beside him, her face worried. Will gave her a weak smile. “Hi.”
“What were you doing?” she asked. “That wasn’t a spell.”
“I didn’t want him to die.”
“Do you have any idea how much turyn you used? You were at it for hours,” she said, disapproval in her voice.
“Enough,” said Will. “I did just enough.”
She turned him until he faced her, then put her hands on either side of his head. “Are you stupid? You aren’t a sorcerer, Will. You probably used up a year of your life. Don’t you realize how dangerous wild magic is?”
He stared into her eyes, the same eyes that had haunted his dream. “But you didn’t stop me, did you?” She’s upset that I wasted her investment. A short-lived slave is worth less. He started to say as much, but then he was falling.
***
Will knew something was wrong long before he opened his eyes. His surroundings didn’t smell right. The tent he shared with his platoon had a distinctive odor that one learned to tolerate only through constant exposure, the smell of iron and sweat. Wherever he was now had none of that. The air was fresh, and when he inhaled through his nose he picked up a variety of scents that had no place in an army tent—clean linen, roses, and—something else.
His eyes flew open. He was in Isabel’s tent. What am I doing here? Will felt a wave of panic wash over him. The last time he had been there, he had been arrested.
Remaining perfectly still, he turned his eyes to survey the rest of the room. It was much as he remembered it, except for the addition of a second cot in the center, a few feet away from the one he was lying on. The other cot was also occupied.
“Sweet holy Temarah, mother of kindness and mercy, save me from this calamity,” he whispered to himself, repeating the prayer he had often heard his Aunt Doreen use. Isabel’s sleeping form was almost within arm’s reach, and the thick blanket she had wrapped herself in was tangled around her body. Her hair was loose and had fallen to one side, exposing the smooth curve of a naked shoulder. Farther down, one of her legs was entirely uncovered.
I’m dead, thought Will. They’ll have my balls for this. Despite his anxiety, he didn’t move. He watched her breathe, studying her nose and lips. Will knew that people were never one thing or another, but he couldn’t reconcile the contradictory things he knew about Isabel.
She wasn’t who she claimed. She was a noble, but she had none of the conceit he expected from those of her station. She was a sorceress, but despite the evil that was the source of her power, she seemed kind. How could someone so compassionate also live with the knowledge that they subsisted on the enslavement of innocent spirits? He was also nearly certain she intended to bind him to her in some way, though whether that entailed magic or simply mundane obligation he had no idea.
“Isabel?”
It was a woman’s voice, coming from just outside the tent. Isabel’s eyes shot wide, and for a second she and Will stared at one another in mutual horror. She sat bolt upright on her cot and her head whipped back and forth, searching for something. The neck of her gown drooped dangerously low as she did, but Will didn’t dare warn her.
Isabel pointed at the desk on the other side of the tent, and Will answered with an expression that clearly said, ‘who me?’
She nodded emphatically, pointing again at the space beneath the desk.
He shook his head—‘no way.’
“I’m coming in,” said the woman outside. “I better not find you hiding in there. If I do, I’ll be very cross.”
Isabel jumped up from her cot and grabbed Will by the shoulders. He was so stunned he didn’t even think of fighting her as she shuffled him across the room and pushed him down under the desk. He pulled in his legs and folded his knees, but his mind was full of visions. He had seen things he was not supposed to see.
His hiding spot was far from perfect, though. The desk had four legs but no sides, leaving him clearly visible to anyone entering. To solve that problem, Isabel sat in the chair in front of him and threw her blanket over his head and her lap. She scooted the chair forward. “Come in!” Isabel called, answering the woman outside.
Will heard footsteps entering, but that fact was secondary to the reality of his current position. Isabel’s knees were on either side of his shoulders. It was too dark under the blanket for him to see anything, but his mind had already mapped out a picture of where he was in relation to the rest of Isabel’s legs—and her hips.
“So, you were in here. You should have answered sooner,” said the other woman. “What were you doing?”
“I fell asleep at the desk,” said Isabel.
Will couldn’t breathe—or rather—he wasn’t sure how to breathe. Through his mouth? His nose? What was the proper etiquette when one was trapped between a woman’s thighs? Either choice seemed as though it would lead to his early demise. He exhaled slowly through his mouth and Isabel jumped slightly.
“You seem nervous,” said the stranger. “Why is your face so red?”
“My leg went to sleep,” said Isabel, pretending to stretch, which led to yet more interesting moments beneath the desk.
I’m a dead man, thought Will, even as something else occurred to him. What might he see if he used his night vision? No, I’m not doing that, he told himself firmly, then had to stifle a laugh, but what would Tailtiu do? He already knew what her answer would have been.
“What brings you here?” asked Isabel.
“What do you mean?” said the other woman. “I only came to this godforsaken place because you were here, but even though I arrived yesterday I still haven’t seen you.”
“I’ve had a lot of work.”
The unknown woman scoffed at that. “What? Taking care of soldiers? There are others better suited to that. You shouldn’t be working at all.” She paused. “Why are there two cots?”
“I was using the other one to stack things on,” said Isabel smoothly. “You still haven’t said what you wanted.”