if you mean to have him out of those chains, you’d better be willing to put him in these.”
Omvir opened the bag and pulled out a set of di pentivas anklets with their delicate looped and chiming chains. The bracelets followed. Unlike a woman’s ilian bangles, they were wide and close-fitting, with clips and locks that would fasten a man’s wrists together and bind him closer than the chains Joh currently wore.
All four of them stared at the decorative bonds spilled across the table. They were shackles just as truly as the iron that bound him now, their delicacy deceptive due to the magic that had forged strength into them. The main difference was that his present chains marked him as felon, as prisoner. The others would declare him ilias, part of a family.
Di pentivas rites lingered from Adara’s ancient history like the odor of some stinking mold from a forgotten closet, from the days of warlords and the battles of metal against magic. The magic—even more predominantly female then than now—had prevailed of course, and to keep the peace, many of the men on the losing side were married di pentivas into Adaran iliani.
The men had no choice in the matter, and could not divorce or be divorced from the ilian. However, if they settled into the marriage and accepted it, they could eventually leave off the wrist bands and exchange the anklets with their looped and chiming chains for the ordinary anklets of a married man.
Though they were still legal, no one practiced the ancient rites any longer, nor had in a hundred and a half of years. Save for Kallista and her ilian, last year.
The captain touched one of the chains. “They look like the ones Stone wore.”
“They are. I don’t think the Reinine will let you give them back again. She didn’t seem best pleased you gave them back the once.”
She stirred the chain on the table and looked up at her bodyguard ilias. “So?”
The red-haired man took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands across his face. “What do you want me to say? What can I say? It would be stupid for me to object now. He’s already ilias.”
“What?” The word was startled out of Joh and he wanted to hide when the others turned their eyes on him. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a sword’s bite,” Obed said.
“I told you.” The captain’s gentle voice sliced deep. “The only time anything remotely like that seven-fold magic ever happened before was during the ilian ceremonies. When the One bound us together into an ilian. This time, She did not wait for the ceremony to bind us. Torchay is right. We are already ilian.”
“Madness.” Joh gripped his hands tight so their shaking wouldn’t show, but he could do nothing to stop it from spreading through his entire body.
Again she smiled that sweet, cruel smile. “Isn’t it? Look at the ilian you’re part of. Even with you, we’re as much Tibran as Adaran. You get used to the madness after a while.” She pushed the iron key toward her bodyguard again and this time he took it up.
“Sergeant—” Joh sank back into the chair as if he thought he could escape the man. “You’re her bodyguard. It’s your duty to protect her. You said it yourself. This is impossible.”
The hawk-nosed man paused in the act of unlocking the leg irons and looked up. “So was that bit of business that happened when she touched you.” He turned the key and the lock fell open, the chain fell to the ground. “And my name’s Torchay. You’d best be getting used to using it. The one of us you’ve not met face-to-face is Fox. The rest you know.”
“Sergeant, think,” Joh hissed out the words. Were these people all mad? “Where’s the man who would take on the Reinine herself if she endangered your captain?”
“Oh, he’s here.” This time when the sergeant looked up, death rode in his eyes. “Never mistake that. He’s always here.”
He tossed aside the first set of iron shackles. “But you’re no danger to her, now. Not physically.”
The sergeant picked up one of the di pentivas ankle bands and fastened it around Joh’s left ankle, saying the words Joh had never expected to hear, beginning the process of binding him into the family. When Omvir moved back, the captain was there, fastening on the other band, shackling Joh again in bonds forged of silver, magic and sacred vows.
He shook his head, not sure whether he was trying to deny the captain’s action or the emotions snarling through him. She gave him her kiss and the dark, tattooed man moved in, fastening a gold bangle around his ankle, saying the same words.
Joh shuddered. He could not do this. He could not possibly be part of any ilian, much less one he’d almost destroyed. “Sergeant.” He tried once more when the red-haired bodyguard took up the iron key, this time to unlock the manacles.
“Torchay” he corrected. “And now you’re one of us, you’d better be calling her Kallista. She doesn’t like it when we don’t.”
The first iron cuff dropped away. Torchay spoke matter-of-factly as he took up a wide, gold band. “You might want to wipe your face.”
Saints and sinners. It was covered in tears. He’d never been good at handling things like this and he had been bombarded with so many conflicting emotions in the last few moments. With his liberated hand, no chains rattling, Joh swiped his face dry. Goddess, he hated this, hated feeling so churned up, so guilty, so grateful, so overwhelmed.
When Joh went still again, Torchay—the sergeant—fastened the di pentivas band around his wrist, then did the same on the other side.
“I’ve made no oaths in return,” Joh muttered, resentful that they paid his objections no mind. “I’ve given no bands.”
“You’re di pentivas. You don’t have to.” Torchay sounded almost cheerful.
Then the dark one, Obed, slapped his hand down on the table between them. When he pulled it back, two plain slim anklets and a matching bracelet lay there gleaming. “There,” he said. “Give them. Swear the vows. They are written on your heart whether you say them with your mouth.”
“Where did these come from?” Kallista—no, the captain—asked the question in Joh’s mind.
The dark man lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “You said we should keep a supply, for instances such as this, when the One adds to our number.”
This happened often? Joh supposed it must, recalling last year’s events.
“Have you been carrying them with you all this time?” Kallista reached out as if to touch the bangles, then did not.
“I had to get more, after Fox. But since then, yes.” Obed turned those strange, dark brown eyes on Joh and fell silent. The other two did the same, just watching him. Waiting.
Joh let his head fall back against the high softness of the chair and shut his eyes. He should not be here. He had almost killed them, for the One’s sake. And yet—
He couldn’t deny the mark, couldn’t deny that the magic had swept him along with the others. Nor, much as he might wish to, could he deny wanting what they offered, or the paralyzing fear of taking it.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his burning eyes.
