Of Deeds Most Valiant: A Poisoned Saints Novel

I  wake a new man.

Victoriana sleeps just inches from me, her fringe of lashes a fan over her cheeks, her breath soft, dark hair tangled around her face.

She’s so beautiful that it hurts. Grips my heart in a fist.

She’s layers. The wild woman who streaked herself with mud. The girl too soft to kill her dog even knowing it housed a demon. The stalwart warrior, chin thrust out, refusing to bend when outnumbered. The paladin blessed by the God, shot through with the gold veins of his holiness. She’s all these things at once. I love them all.

I reach a hand as if to caress her cheek and then I stop abruptly.

Beneath the ground, she had turned her heart to me. When she was backed into a corner. When she had no other allies. I dare not assume she will choose me here in the open air. It’s not that I am insecure, thinking a rival will sweep her away. It’s more that I am cognizant that she is a wild creature at heart. A wanderer. A freewheeling bird of the sky. She will not thank me for anchoring her.

Nor will she thank me for pressuring her based on a vow she gave while under duress. I am no blackguard to hold a woman captive by words spoken under fear and pain.

A doggy face appears from over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at me. No quarter is given me though I’ve healed him. He huffs once at me.

I draw my hand back, frown, and rise. Even without additional spirits occupying him, Brindle is a sticky fellow. He has no love for me.

I step out of the tent and find Hefertus cooking a fragrant-fleshed fish by the fire. He has no fishing gear. I can only assume he asked the God for the fish and it leapt from the sea to his hand to satisfy his hunger.

I’m constantly fascinated by how the God deals with Hefertus. Where I am offered pain, he’s given plenty. Where I am constantly winnowed to clarity, he is left happily oblivious.

“Pretty girl,” he remarks as he turns his fish, not looking up at me. His missing finger doesn’t seem to bother him, though it must serve as a reminder forever of the terrible road we walked. “Turned your head, didn’t she?”

I grunt. For a man swathed in pearls, his beard oiled and hair brushed until it gleams, he’s hardly one to judge another for being too pretty.

“What are you going to tell your aspect about the cup?” he asks, changing tacks.

“Nothing.”

His snickering laughter makes me frown.

“Well, my ill-tempered friend, if you say nothing then they’ll only have my word for what took place. I think it likely your dark horse in there will only write a letter.” He gestures at the tent, where Victoriana sleeps. “Can she write, do you think?”

“Rude. She read Ancient Indul, a thing you could not achieve.” I bristle at his insults but they feel good. Like the bracing wind along the shore that bites at my exposed skin, they remind me I am alive.

I look out over the hole in the ground left by the collapsed ruins across the water from us. There’s nothing there. Not even the arch or the statue that once graced the hilltop. It’s all water now. I shiver. It’s a miracle that is not my tomb.

“Her demon read Ancient Indul,” Hefertus corrects dryly.

I shoot him a look.

He smirks. “What? I keep up. Common sense may not be my greatest strength, but you should be glad for that. A man with any sense would have run the moment he was free of that place.”

I grunt again. “I would say rather that it shows your lack of sense that you stayed.”

He laughs. “Then you should thank the God that he took my excess sense, for it saved your sopping wet soul from death.”

We’re quiet a moment and then he sobers.

“If I’m to give the report on this incident, my surly friend, then I will have to make a decision. I can report the incident as it happened, and you might find there are people with many questions to ask you. An uncomfortable thought, no? Some of the Aspects of the Divine God are … how do I say ‘hellishly awful’ without being rude?”

“I think you just did,” I say, amused.

“They’ll do all those lovely things they do to the truly innocent,” he continues, his tone dark, mocking, and merciless. “Thumbscrews. Broken bones. Lighting you on fire to be sure your marrow runs out and you aren’t a demon. You know. The usual holy work.”

“A fate I’d like to avoid,” I say with a furtive glance at the tent.

“A fate you’d like your lady love to avoid. Don’t play coy with me. You’d revel in all that misery. It’s your aspect’s way. It’s not my way, though. I like to keep things bearable. Which is why another story occurs to me.”

“And what is that?” I ask, taking the fish he puts on a leaf and passes to me.

My belly is already rumbling as I reach for it and I have to close my eyes to guard the pleasure of hot food from slipping out where Hefertus might see it. I nearly moan when the first scrap touches my tongue.

Hefertus’s voice takes on a charming lilt as he lays out the story.

“We came to this place, all of us, but the door to it stumped us. It would not allow entry and could not be forced. We camped several nights, our tents spread out, and then one night — horror of horrors — the place fell into the ground and was covered by the sea, and everyone camped on top of it was swept away into the chasm, except the three of us, the dog, and the horses, who were camped just far enough away from the actual ruin to be spared. A kindness of the God. A miracle.”

“It’s a good story,” I say after a while as we eat. “But someone might try to bring ropes and go down into the ruin to look.”

“Underwater?”

“With pumps and engineers, water can be moved.”

“As long as it isn’t me, I don’t rightly care,” Hefertus says. “What could they possibly find down there? The place looks too ruined to generate more demons. And I think that the bodies would be long decomposed before anyone could work their way through the rock. It would take months to organize that kind of endeavor. Years, maybe, at the rate the church works.”

“There’s the golem, Cleft. He froze when he disobeyed Sir Sorken. But he wasn’t dead, I don’t think. And he’s made of rock. It’s possible another of their Engineers could wake him.”

Hefertus snorts. “Then it’s a good thing he has no voice. Stop fretting, Adalbrand. This is a secret best kept hidden. Your Vagabond will understand that.” He pauses. “What will you do with her?”

I shake my head. “I do not know what I will do about her. Not with her. She is not mine to direct.”

Hefertus snickers again. “Sometimes I think it’s you who loses common sense when you call on the God and not me. Either way, it makes no difference. We’ll travel together back to civilization and then I’ll leave you on the road and ride to Saint Rauche’s Citadel to make my report. You won’t want to come. I’ll tell them all I speak for you, and deliver any letters the pair of you want to write.” He pauses. “But I’ll read them first, so don’t let honesty get in your way.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say wryly, and then we eat in companionable silence until the Vagabond wakes.

I watch her come out of the tent, sleep-mussed and so desirable that my whole body aches to hold her no matter my good intentions.

It’s too much.

I leap up from where I sit like I’ve been stabbed and hurry off down the shore on my own, trying to calm my pounding heart and shaking breath with the brisk sea breeze and the difficulty of negotiating a path along the angry sea. My neck and my side hurt enough to steal my breath, and that’s good. I lean into that.

She stirs me up like a hurricane. I am unsteady, uncertain. I will not let that instability leave marks on her. Not after everything else.

I seek solace in prayer for what feels like hours. My prayers have never felt so intimate. Probably because I’ve never been touched by the God like I was in that terrible place.

Eventually, I feel a touch on my shoulder and I spin, hope flaring in my eyes, only to be disappointed by the mocking gaze of Hefertus.

“I’ve always thought your order had it the worst,” he says. “Just drive a dagger through your flesh like a cursed Penitent, why don’t you. All this celibate angst is killing me.”

The black look I direct at him only makes him laugh more.

“Come on, brother,” he says, throwing an arm jovially over my shoulders. “The Vagabond doesn’t want to stay here, and neither do I. This whole God-forsaken place is haunted. Let’s ride as far as we can and keep on riding until we shake the dust of this place off.”

We make our way back to where the camp had been. It’s already packed, the horses ready. My lady paladin sits astride hers, looking for all the world like a holy knight, though she is bereft of armor. Even her sword is lost back in the fountain.

I lost my armor, too, shedding what was left of it in the sea as I fought for my life. My sword — more precious to me than any other possession — is gone forever.

We’re a pathetic pair, we two.

She watches me intently, as if waiting for something. I do not know what that something is, so I meet her gaze steadily and then mount my horse and am grateful when the road is so narrow that we must ride single file.

I ride at the rear. A terrible choice, as it means my eyes are fixed on her back for the next twelve hours as we ride. By the time we decide to pitch camp, I’ve memorized her down to the finest hair. And when I retire, wrapped up in stolen blankets, refusing Hefertus’s offer of the tent, my mind replays the softness of her curves over and over.

Hefertus sleeps in the tent with her. I wish I could resent him for it. I am, instead, merely horrifically jealous. Would that I dared sleep a foot from her. Would that I dared drown in her scent and allow myself secret glimpses of her drowsy form. I dare not. I am overwhelmed just by this much proximity. I will not force her hand. I will not pressure her with emotional displays. That is not the path of honor. If I slipped even once, all my gates would fall open and I would be as overwhelmed as a city when a siege breaks.

I do not sleep. I do not dream. I spend all the night with my thoughts racing round and round. My arms feel so terribly empty.

At the first hamlet we encounter, Hefertus spends money like water, gathering food and supplies.

It is here that my heart is broken for a new reason, for as we walk through the hamlet, a child runs out and into the side of a barrel. His arm goes backward and breaks with a snap. I’m on my knees in the dust in a second, praying over him, gently helping to set the bone and bind it, but though I can administer kindness and help as anyone with knowledge can do, my prayers for his healing go unanswered. No power flows through me. No miraculous healing saves him the pain of the break.

I know why this is. It’s a result I expected. And yet it is a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that by choosing one path, I have lost another. By choosing one good, I have prevented another. I leave the child to his parents with a troubled heart and a twisting belly. He lingers long in my thoughts as I mull on the choice I have made.

At the first good-sized town, Hefertus buys the Vagabond and me both serviceable new swords and what little armor is available. It is not the kit of paladins, but it is as close as one can get in the wild.

We spend an awkward night in a crowded inn with one room and one bed. Word has reached the world that the north is opening and gold prospectors, historians, and hunters set out by the dozens. They are only the vanguard. More and more will pour up into the new space as the days go by. It’s a strange thing to see the gleam of opportunity in their eyes as they race to a place I can’t abandon quickly enough.

Hefertus takes the bed and that leaves the floor for us. I can barely manage to look my lady paladin squarely in the eye. Even the smallest glimpse of her seizes my heart and squeezes the breath from my lungs. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I sleep with my back to her and for the first time in years, my thin blanket feels very lonely.

The next morning, outside the town in a wooded glen, Hefertus leaves us. He has letters penned by both of us for our aspects and he wears an irritable frown.

“I’m leaving you both. If you’re traveling down the same road as me, give me at least an hour’s head start.”

The Vagabond Paladin looks confused. “I don’t understand,” she says miserably. “You don’t want to travel with us?”

Hefertus growls. “Girl. Knight. Whatever you are. If I must ride one more day with the pair of you and your angsty silences and longing, desperate glances whenever you think the other is not looking, I will chew through the ends of my own hair and eat my own boots. The tension is turning me inside out and I am not even part of this tangled star-crossed love.” He makes a sound that is like an unspoken curse. “I want a pair of warm arms and a willing kiss, or … failing that … an empty room of my own where I can clear my head. You’ve ruined me. Both of you. So yes, I would travel alone. Very alone. As alone as a man can be. If you have any sense of gratitude for the fire, and the tent, and the horses that awaited you when you swam to safety, you will give me that, at least.”

There’s a long silence as he catches his breath. I do not look at the Vagabond. My cheeks are hot with the knowledge that now everyone here knows the hidden cockles of my heart.

I clap Hefertus roughly on the shoulder. Maybe too roughly. He grunts.

“Thank you for all you’ve done, brother, and godspeed.”

He grunts again.

“Thank you, Sir Hefertus,” my lady paladin says stiffly.

He laughs, a dark, dry laugh. “I swear to the God,” is all he says, and then he kicks his horse and leaves us in his dust.

I look up at Victoriana and see her huge brown eyes looking at me. Her jaw is clenched with determination. She shatters me with a look.

“I suppose you’re leaving now, too.” Her tone is grim.

Beside her, her dog laughs at me.

I shift awkwardly in the saddle. “I gave my vow to stay with you.”

She looks upset. I cannot fathom why. I have exercised every possible caution to protect her heart.

Without a word, she kicks her horse and leads us back toward the town and then down a side road that wends far into the woods. I follow her grimly all through the afternoon, though she never looks back once.

We reach a small creek as the light is fading. She begins to set a fire without speaking. I remove the horses’ tack and bring them to water. When they’re taken care of, I join her at the fire. Her dog is already there, spread out beside the flames to catch their warmth. He pants happily, wet from his drink at the creek. I swear he is still mocking me.

Victoriana stands abruptly, that enchanting black hair falling into her eyes. She hasn’t braided it once since we left the sea, as though she thinks it might offer the protection her mismatched armor cannot. Like me, what armor she has is packed away. She wears only the sword buckled to her hip and her light travel clothing — purchased for her by Hefertus just as mine was. He claimed to be so rich as to hardly care where the money went, but I know full well he is generous to a fault.

“Enough of this.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her gaze snags on mine before she rips it away, and in that flicker of a moment, I see nothing but anguish.

What has happened?

I take an involuntary step forward, but the fire is between us, dancing and smoking wildly as if it is alive.

“Victoriana?” My voice sounds uncertain.

“I release you from any vows you made. Any and all promises made to me,” she says roughly.

“None but the God can release me,” I growl, annoyed. What is this?

“Then ask him to release you!” She turns to me abruptly, her face taut with vexation.

I rock back on my heels, surprised. “Why would I ask that?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

She’s glorious and deadly, powerful and potent. I want to be in her presence forever.

She scoffs. “Why? You have barely looked at me since we were drawn out of the sea. Adalbrand, you fool of a man.” She runs a hand over her face. “Your heart is not with me, so don’t let your honor force you to dog my steps. I’ll be no one’s duty.”

Her chin is high and trembling and her eyes are liquid.

Oh.

Wait.

I step around the fire briskly, and catch her by the waist with both hands, driving her back a step.

“Are you saying my distance offends you? Do you want me yet, Lady Paladin?” I ask her hoarsely. The words tumble from my mouth as if a dam has opened. “Are you still mine? Even now? Even after you’ve seen me possessed by demons? Even after you’ve seen me commit black murder?”

“Of course I want you, Adalbrand.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. “It’s not me who has been cold and distant since we left the ocean.”

“I healed your dog,” I say numbly. “I brought him back from death.”

“Thank you.” She does not sound like she’s thanking me. She sounds like she’s slamming a door on me.

“It was your turn to speak,” I say stupidly. “If you still wanted me that way then it was for you to say it. I thought your silence meant you had regrets. That you wished to put all that behind you.”

She laughs, disbelieving, and it’s half laugh and half sob.

“Are you always this stupid?”

“I think I might be,” I say as I jerk her waist so that it’s flush against mine — we’re nearly the same height and her mouth is pleasingly close — and then I lean in and kiss her with all the pent-up passion and yearning I’ve been holding back for days.

She yields beneath my fingers, softens with my kiss, and it reawakens the desire I’ve been holding down. I groan into her mouth, overcome with need for her, drugged by the taste and feel of her mouth sliding on mine, her lips catching on mine, dragging them toward her. I want to see where else they could catch and drag.

“You can’t kiss me.” She is breathless when we break apart, her fist firm against my chest, holding me back from kissing her again. I swallow down the stab of loss at her rejection. I’ve misunderstood. I’ve overstepped. “You’re sworn to celibacy.”

Oh. I search her eyes. Is that her only objection? My honor?

“Didn’t you see Hefertus pay for my armor and clothing?” I say, my voice clouded by the harshness of my breath. The rise of desire is not so easy to quell as it is to awaken.

She shakes her head. And her voice is pleading. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She wants me to give her reasons to stay. My heart leaps to offer them.

“I gave him every coin I possessed.”

Her tone is dry. “He hardly needs it. He’ll just spend it on nonsense.”

“Did you not see how I could not heal the boy?” I ask, tentatively, trying not to misread her again.

She looks puzzled. “You bound his arm. I thought …”

I laugh darkly and then her expression turns the bitterness of it into true amusement.

“Tell it to me plainly,” she demands.

I tuck her hair behind her ear so I can revel in this moment before I answer her, but her sharp gaze urges me to explain.

“I’ve left the Poisoned Saints. Changed allegiances. The letter I sent with Hefertus will confirm it with my aspect.”

“But the God came down in glory over you.” She looks confused. “Why would you walk away from his service?”

“I would not.” I bite my lip, waiting to see what she will say when she finally realizes what I’ve done. “I’m just joining a different aspect. After all, I’m sworn to follow you and you will be wandering this earth for the rest of your life.” I pause and clear my throat a little awkwardly. “And if you’ll have me, then I’ll wander it with you, honoring the Aspect of the Rejected God. And if you won’t have me, then I suppose I will be doing it alone, since it’s already too late to change my mind. I’ve sent all the letters and the God has clearly changed where he’ll let me direct his power. As far as the world is concerned, I’m a Vagabond Paladin now.”

“You did this for me?” she says, understanding dawning.

“Yes,” I whisper, and my hands at her waist squeeze just a little, pressing her harder against me. She fits just right.

“And what are you begging for now?” she asks coyly, but there’s a shyness to her prodding that I’d like to tease out.

I lick my lips and take a gamble. “More kisses.”

And she’s laughing when she kisses me — at first — but celibate order or not, I have the skill to turn laughter into gasps, and gasps into moans, and I do just that under the blanketing darkness of the night.

If I am now a Beggar Knight, and if my hands are open to the God right now, then he’s filled them to overflowing with good gifts. And I’ve never felt so free.