The TwiceBorn

Just Say You Love Me

"I intend to leave this life so shattered there's gonna have to be a thousand separate heavens for all my flying parts."--Andrea Gibson  

"Get up."

Islinn opened her eyes and, for a moment, didn't know where she was. She scrubbed a sleepy hand across her face and looked around the small, dark room.

"Who are you?" She asked, yawning and grimacing as her stomach pulled. She briefly touched her lower lip. It felt huge and throbbed with its own heartbeat. The robed figure kneeling beside her looked surprised.

"I'm Lucan. Get up. Lord Kenric wants to see you." He replied. Islinn nodded and shuttered another yawn with the back of her hand.

Of course, he'd want to see her and ask her if she'd changed her mind yet. And he would ask her in private because if she said she had, he could tell his followers that he, personally, had delivered the last True Believer back to Brede's fold.

But when she said she had not changed her mind...what would happen then?

She didn't know. But she doubted it would be pleasant. Her sleepy daze was abruptly interrupted as Lucan's hand came down on the corner of her tunic and yanked her to her feet. She yelped, more out of surprise than pain, but he quickly let her go. She stood, slightly hunched over, and felt the familiar scratchiness of rope as it was slipped quickly over her neck. He wouldn't look her in the eyes as he stepped closer and tightened the noose.

"You don't have to...tie...me. I'll walk with you." She said softly. Lucan ignored her. He stepped back from her, pulled an ornate blade from his robes, and raised it to his lips as he simultaneously closed his eyes. He gave the blade a gentle kiss then his lips began to move rapidly in silent prayer.

Bewildered, she quietly waited. For someone who had been in such a hurry to fetch her for Kenric, it seemed like an odd time to pause and engage in prayer. Kenric hadn't struck Islinn as being a patient man. Faintly,she could hear the sounds of the Church as its inhabitants awoke for the day. The steady drone of morning prayers. The warm spicy scent of porridge being made. The shuffle of feet as everyone began to move about. All of them so familiar. A long time ago, it had sounded like home.

She studied Lucan. She recognized the blade he held. Blades of Benediction, they were called, and JoHan had told her, once, that she would, one day, be worthy of bearing one of her own. They were beautiful, made by the Sentinels with blacksmithing skills and they boasted ornate handles and blue-steeled blades. JoHan had told her she would  receive her own on a cold white morning when there hadn't been enough wood for a truly warm fire and she remembered thinking if she had a blade like that, she'd trade it for a heavy cloak at the first town they came to.

The thought brought a tiny smile to her lips. She was suddenly aware that Lucan had finished his prayers and was staring at her with ill-concealed disgust.

"I will take you to Lord Kenric now. Do not touch me and do not give me cause to place my hands on you again." Lucan said. Islinn nodded but Lucan had already turned to head out of the small room and Islinn had to almost run to keep the rope from tightening around her neck.