Beneath the Thirteen Moons by Kathryne Kennedy Page A

backwards. As angry as she felt, she still welcomed the warmth of his fingers and fought to lean back against him. It felt so incredibly right .
    Natives, she thought. But she still held that wall of black around her mind, had repaired the chink she’d broken before. So they couldn’t be influencing her thoughts, making her feel this strange attachment to the man. But he had no such protection.
    Korl tried again. “Mahri, listen. You’ve had so much root, it’s possible you’re hallucinating.”
    “You can only See true with the zabba,” she shouted back.
    “But you’re a Wilding, with no discipline. Isn’t it at least a possibility?”
    “No.”
    Branches and vines slapped into the boat and Mahri used her bone staff to fend them off. Jaja had hunkered down beneath the bow, kept shaking his head and trying to catch her eye.
    “It’s all nonsense, Mahri. I’m not falling in love with you, okay?”
    The boat slowed and she felt the sigh of his relief warm the top of her head. She turned in his hands and at that moment dawn broke, surrounding him in a cloud of soft golden light.
    “Are you sure?” she demanded.
    He put his palm over his heart. “I swear to you, I am absolutely not falling in love with you.”
    “But I thought I saw—in your eyes…”
    And she saw it again, as the sun touched those faceted orbs and lit them with fire. But he shuttered them, that mask of arrogance fell over those perfect features, and he shook his hair back from his face. “Maybe a little lust, water-rat. But that’s all.”

Chapter 6
    “T HANK THE-THIRTEEN-MOONS,” BREATHED M AHRI .
    Korl scowled. “It’s not very flattering, you know, when a water-rat’s grateful that a Royal doesn’t love her.”
    She laughed, her face aglow, threw pole-strengthened arms around those broad shoulders and hugged him hard. To his credit he held the air in his lungs.
    “No, it’s not that,” she laughed. “Although I’m relieved, but that doesn’t mean what I told you about the natives isn’t—oh, never mind. I’ve found the trail!”
    Korl hadn’t released her from her hug. “What trail?”
    His eyes were bottomless depths of… “Stop looking at me like that. I’ve found the way to the village, a hint of familiar water.” Mahri tried to wriggle out of his arms, gave up, and just turned to face the bow, his warm body pressed against her back. A small part of her marveled at his reluctance to let her go, how her own body tried to meld with his, despite the disparity of their minds and hearts.
    She zealously followed that hint of the village, lost it once when it got overwhelmed with other water Patterns, but finally reached a channel that she recognized. “We’ve gone too far,” she murmured. “I’ll have to Push the water against its natural current.” She tried to open her pouch when strong fingers wrapped around her own and squeezed.
    Mahri sighed. “Listen, Great Healer, you’ve already told me I’ve taken enough root that I won’t survive after we reach the village. So what’s the point in stopping now?”
    “How much zabba have you got left? How much am I going to need to Heal your people?”
    He’s got a point, thought Mahri. But we’re far from the village and to Push against the current takes a lot of Power. She Saw into his hands and took control of his muscles, made them release her fingers so she could dig into the fish-scale pouch. She pulled forth root and ate.
    “Stubborn wench,” he growled into her ear. “Give me back my hands.”
    “Bossy brute,” she flung back, shuddering from the bitter taste of the zabba. “I just did.”
    “Then how come they’re running up the front of your vest, like they’ve a mind of their own?”
    Mahri choked back a laugh and Pushed those wandering hands back down around her waist. Had she done that to his muscles unconsciously, or did Korl really have a sense of humor? “Stop it, I need to concentrate.” And she forced the water to do her will, made it