Driven By Instinct

6 - Affections

Morra's poultice had worked sublimely. Despite her reputation, Vica was far from a gifted healer apart from using rudimentary life magics, and she eagerly appealed to the tavern keeper's wife to part with her method "just in case." Shavings of pine bark from the trees native to this region, ground cayenne peppers, turmeric, along with a host of other ingredients from Morra's private garden. In other words, mostly things that Vica would not be able to find naturally in any one region. She hid a crestfallen expression with a bashful smile, shaking her head when Morra offered to bundle up whatever she had.

Vica had already imposed on them. Even if it had been at Constantine's scheming behest, they had no idea and had offered their help eagerly. To take advantage of their gratitude any further was unthinkable.

She clasped her hands together and wrung them as she sat on the edge of her bed, fully bedecked in traveling gear and armed with a beaten leather satchel. Along with some food wrapped in cloth, it was stocked with whatever supplies her hosts could bear to part with, including a roughly hewn toothbrush and extra socks. She wasn't sure Constantine had been given the same treatment - but considering that they thought he had rescued her and had agreed to escort her to her next destination like a gentleman, it was a distinct possibility.

She rubbed her eyes fiercely with the heel of her wrists. How did he do it? Knowingly exploit people, kind and good people who worked hard for their daily bread. From her adolescence on, she had always spent every waking moment perpetually conscious of whom she was burdening, of how to repay them. She could admit that her sense of obligation and indebted duty went beyond the norm, but she had never met someone so willing to deceive and manipulate to get what he wanted. Not just willing but even eager. Constantine thrived on it all.

He was like a child, Vica thought. He was a dangerous creature, yes, but anything he wanted he took, anything he wanted to say he voiced. Nothing mattered to him more than his sole satisfaction even if it came at the cost of others'. Indeed, it seemed like he took special pleasure if it came at someone else's expense. She remembered suddenly the feel of his hot hand as it slid up her thigh, rough fingertips trailing like fire on her skin and ghosting perilously close to her core. The recollection was so vivid that she cringed even now, and she buried her face in her hands, screwing her eyes shut.

She was not someone prone to violence. Her only thought as it happened had been that she wanted to escape, to run away. Not until after she had been left alone had she entertained the thought that perhaps Constantine deserved to have his face broken. She even cautiously tasted the idea of wishing he was dead before abandoning it a second later. It warred too violently with the principles engraved in her bones by the Magister: a man could be evil but the soul was still sacred. Hating him was acceptable, but she couldn't choose to end his life as recompense for only the injuries to her pride. If he acted on his threat to carry out malicious harm against others, then certainly it was her duty to set aside moral arguments and grimly make the right decision. But as long as she didn't provoke him, then Constantine would not hurt anyone else. Everything was his fault, but their lives were still in her hands.

Her opportunity would come. Until then, she just had to bear it.

And anyway, Vica thought wryly as she lifted her chin, her opinion on the value of his life didn't matter. It would continue to not matter until she regained her magic with which to secure her freedom, and dreaming of resistance was pointless until she had a plan to correct things. What to do, she thought, and closed her eyes. What to do?

Before anything else, she had to get Constantine to leave Landon. There was nothing she could use to her advantage here, and the presence of powerless bystanders only made it more difficult for her to mount a resistance. At least in a larger city, there might be soldiers and other mages to whom she could signal her distress, but it could well be that Constantine would avoid such places for exactly that reason. She didn't know every nuance of his methods, but she knew he was a shrewd man - attentive to his surroundings and always prepared to use them to his advantage. To think that such qualities were wasted on a cutthroat, a mercenary, an assassin for hire. He would have made an excellent scholar if only he were so inclined.

A knock on the door interrupted her cartwheeling thoughts. It wasn't Constantine - she could feel his dark and stifling presence yet lingering in the next room. Vica stood, leaving the satchel on the bed, and moved to open the door. "Morra!" she exclaimed, eyebrows flying away into her dark hair. "I thought you and Bodan had already left to start fencing the goat pastures. I would have come downstairs if I'd known." If Constantine had allowed it, that was. He had been keen on keeping her close - no doubt he knew even better than Vica that proximity was his best weapon against her. Anytime she tried to leave her room, he always appeared within arm's reach a moment later.

"It's nothing," Morra reassured her. She held something in her hands, but Vica stayed her curiosity and moved aside to invite the woman in. "No need, no need. The baker's wife and her sisters got together last night to knit some mittens after you had gone to bed. They stopped by in the early hours. I should think they will fit."

Vica took one proffered pair with a smile and slid them over her hands. They had a little extra room at the fingertips, but they were warm and well-made. "They're excellent. I wish I could thank them before I go." She doubted Constantine would in any way be thrilled at the idea of making house visits before they set off. Best not to make promises she couldn't keep. "Will you see them today?"

"I'll tell them," Morra said with a wide smile. "I just wish I'd thought of it before they did. Snows will set in early this winter, so you should think about settling down somewhere until Third Moon."

Vica pressed her mittened hands to her cheeks, relishing the warmth of the soft fleece lining. "I surely will. Just one more stop or two."

"You are doing God's work." Morra pushed back some flyaway strands of Vica's black hair behind her ears with a fond tilt of her head. "But I think it unwise to tempt fate so often. We're all very lucky that Mister Constantine found you when he did."

Vica wondered at herself for so expertly concealing her whole-body spasm at the misplaced praise. "So lucky," she agreed. "And thank you for all your help. I feel terrible for how I've imposed."

"Nonsense. Blessings are no imposition. We haven't seen or heard a single wolf since you left and the sheep aren't so agitated anymore. It's a few weeks later than usual for tupping season, but we'll have our lambs early in Fifth Moon."

A pleased warmth rose to Vica's face. "That's amazing. Don't forget to keep making sounds by the edge of the woods every night for a while until the wolves stop wandering up to these parts. They should have already started roaming more on the other side of the forest."

They exchanged a little more chattering until they heard the sound of a door latching shut a few feet away. Constantine stood there, hand still wrapped around the knob. "I'm sorry, ladies, I don't mean to interrupt. Miss Vica, I'll head down and you can come when you're ready. Take your time."

I most definitely intended to interrupt. Do not take your time, his smiling yellow eyes told Vica, but Morra didn't seem to notice. She urged them to stay as long as they wished before setting off and then begged their forgiveness as she had to take her leave first. Bodan, she told them, had gone on ahead and would be waiting for her. She exchanged a parting hug with Vica and a curtsy to Constantine before hurrying downstairs.

"You're welcome," he said suddenly.

"For what?" The sharp reply had flown out of her mouth before she could stop it. Rather than irritating him, however, her indignation seemed to only amuse him.

"If we hadn't come back here, you wouldn't have had a chance to collect on your debts." Constantine walked forward as he spoke and stopped in the doorway. He raised one hand to grab onto the top of the doorjamb, looming over her with casual aggression. "So you're welcome."

"There were no debts," she said shortly. She didn't move. "You -" she began again but clamped her mouth shut when she realized what she had been about to say. She couldn't let Constantine provoke her this way. He would only use it against her later. She steeled herself and turned her back so she could go retrieve her belongings still on the bed, lips still drawn in a thin line.

"I what?" he mocked. He watched her as she remained silent. "Oh, Vica. You really are no fun."

She was standing in front of him again, satchel resting at her right hip with the strap looped over the opposing shoulder and across her chest. When he refused to move to let her pass, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Are we leaving or not?"

"We don't have to." With one hand still hanging onto the doorjamb above their heads, he used his other hand to cup her chin. He rubbed his thumb slowly just under her jaw, felt her pulse quicken and her body tense at his touch. He had lied, of course. Vica was so much fun that he didn't know what to do with himself. He slid his hand up her cheek to push some stray strands of hair behind her ear. When she still didn't respond, he then moved his hand back and sank it into her black locks until his palm was flush against the back of her head. He shifted his fingers so that he could firmly tangle them in her hair, and then he pulled back gently until her head was tilted back. He leaned forward, dropping his chin and letting his other hand support more of his weight until he was looking almost nose-to-nose into her eyes.

He could see the subtle play of fear and dread in her eyes, the way her dark eyes flashed at him. She smelled so good, he thought. It wasn't a scent he could put a name to. Just the smell of something smaller and weaker, the scent of prey. He briefly imagined taking her against the doorway, not even bothering to strip her all the way. The thought of spreading her open in another man's house was too tempting by far.

"I'll let you go if you tell me what you were about to say," he said, regretfully pushing away his urges for the moment. "We can leave as soon as you do." He almost hoped she didn't. He could make her say anything he wanted in a few moments anyway if she refused. Any word he wanted.

She only hesitated long enough to decide that he would stay true to his word and leave once she had acquiesced. "I was going to say that you don't know anything," she told him. She swallowed uncomfortably, her head tilted back so far that the action was a little more evident than she wished it was. "Not everyone is like you."

"Hmm," Constantine hummed. He let his gaze slide down to her bared throat. The edges of her travel cloak weren't fastened together, and soft skin peeked out at him innocently.  "That could be true. Tell me more." He should mark her right there, he thought. Right on top of the sharp rise of her collarbone.

"I don't bookkeep favors. I did what I did because I wanted to, not because I wanted something from them later."

"So you aren't going around indebting innocent countryfolk to you so that you can sway their allegiance in a mass rebellion when the time comes?"

Even in her vulnerable position, Vica thought it acceptable to scowl fiercely at him. "That sounds like something only a wretched son of a b***h would do."

"That's not very smart, Vica. So many people benefiting from you when you know they have no way of repaying it all. Maybe you're just a deviant. Does it turn you on?"

"I'm not the deviant."

Constantine's hand left the doorjamb and dropped to the small of Vica's back. She had entirely too many clothes on. "So they take advantage of you in the end, since you have no intention of coming to collect your debts. Maybe that's what turns you on. When someone uses you. Do you like that?"

"I help because I can," she hissed, and Constantine stilled.

More than the dark fury in her eyes, he felt her magic twisting in her like a cut serpent. Not just passing anger, this. He had disturbed something more profound in Vica's soul with his words. Immediately, his interest turned in that direction, and he half-forgot his curiosity concerning the taste of her skin. "Because you can?" he repeated, urging her to continue. He couldn't have torn his gaze away from hers even if he had wanted to.

"Because they can't and I can," she said. "Because good things should happen to good people but they can't help themselves. Because it costs me nothing but for them, it's everything. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?"

"So they win and you get nothing from it? It's your loss, Vica -"

"It's not about winning!"

Constantine fell silent, taken aback by the violence in her voice. She had all but shouted at him while they stood nose to nose. He felt the raw currents of her power beating against his anti-magic, rebelling against the suppression. Was this the real Vica? He had known from the instant he had sensed her that she hid her true nature with a pretense of tame domestication and cool composure, but he hadn't expected what he knew he detected now: a flash of a killing urge, a bloodthirst. It was crude but there was no mistaking it.

And then Vica too seemed to tighten into herself, and her magic wound itself away from Constantine's senses as if it were retreating. "Get away from me," she said rigidly. "I said get away from me!" She shoved hard at his chest, and he slackened his body so that his arms fell away from her. 

She seemed surprised despite herself that he had yielded, and she paused as if uncertain of what to do now that she had gotten what she wanted. Silence fell around them as they stared at each other, and then she pushed past him, freshly emboldened by his newfound generosity. Constantine heard her footsteps as she descended the stairs, and with the sharp exhale of a surprised laugh from his nose, he turned to follow her down.