Victory's Price

Phoenix/Wolf (Part Forty - Five)

Chapter 49

The Phoenix dreamt of bloodshed. The Stars spoke to her in her sleep. They could taste war on the winds, they could hear it in the streets.

But entrancing as the hints of attention were, she was not so invested in exchange as to forget her eternal ties to the world around her.

"By tomorrow we shall be home, Wolf." She murmured, neglecting to open her eyes. "Why fight me now when I shall no longer need it by the end of this journey?"

"I would rather take what is mine than receive it as your cast off."

As a bracing breeze ruffled her hair, Phoenix opened her eyes. She could not resent his tenacity though the connection to the Stars had been a rarely pleasant one.

His nicked, peasant's sword hovered just inches from her nose. It was a foolish positioning. Whilst it was very intimidating to look directly down the fuller, he would have been wiser to hold her throat hostage.

"Slowly, so that I can see your hands, I want you to unbuckle your sheath and place it as far from yourself as possible."

Phoenix yawned. Sleeping at the roadside had meant a damp, cold night and she had spent the majority of the early hours trying to see conflict on the streets of the Central Plateau.

"Does it not occur to you that I have magics?" She lay her head back onto the dewy ground, focusing on his face and not his weapon. "This situation does not threaten me."

"You need to be alone for magic." Wolf laughed, his expression smug. "And now you've got me."

"You mean nothing to me."

But, with sickening horror, she realised that she lied.

It changed nothing. She could do nothing. She needed him.

Phoenix took in a deep, calming breath and studied his face. He was pompous and mild but he was changing, she had been given dough and was kneading it into steel. It was a cruel twist on her old adage that, with this victory, came affection.

She vowed, then, that this was the closest he would get. It had started this way before and cruel, trusting, Yellow Cat had driven her to the brink of madness. It would not happen again.

She could tell from her companion's easily apparent glee that he had not bought the bluff. It obviously gave him great pleasure to have her trip over her words. She quelled the resulting fury. Retaliation would not serve well.

"My sword." Wolf prompted.

Master of her emotions, Phoenix kept her face straight. It was not his place to see her weakness.

As she slowly slid her hand toward the pommel of his sword, Phoenix knew what would have to be done. He could not be allowed to beat her. And whilst she had not expected to be set upon by her own, she had not set camp without intimate knowledge of the surrounding area.

"You have changed that you would not let me draw my own weapon first." The words were no more than stalling for time but she could not prevent the small swelling of pride at the realisation.

"Someone once told me that honour belongs to the one with the blade." Wolf was patient with her speed. He watched her hands intently but Phoenix, her vision blocked by his weapon, was blind to her own movements.

As her fingers met the metal of the pommel at her hip though, she smiled. Wolf tensed, intelligent enough to realise she would not concede easily.

"Don't do anything." He growled, bringing his blade to hover so close that  it almost touched her.