Rosetta went to the room down the hall, choosing a particularly large chair as a source for her magic. As it was consumed, white bindings laced their way around her nearly naked body. Only the Mage’s mantle remained on her as she was bound. She could hardly stomach the sight of herself now, knowing how shameful that sight she had become. It was too late to change the source of her magic, her body fat had been the fuel her whole life. Her brother had relied on the quickening of his heart and had grown so strong from it. As a young girl she had always had a sweet tooth and never wanted to stop. Her lovers bullied her for it, but she loved pain and suffering. The flung insults and pinches, slaps, and light whipping. She did plenty back, barbs and sneers. It wasn’t fun unless there was a two way struggle. They were taming her. Once she was tamed, it got boring. Once the soft comfort outweighed the sharp pain that is.

The tightness of the bodily bindings made Rosetta’s breath more labored. She thought suddenly that she wanted more softness. She needed comfort. She should have just gone to the temple like her brother. Maybe being beaten until a Dom used their safeword would help. Or maybe she should have just asked for comfort. No, they would mock her. The temple was supposed to be a place of ultimate secrecy, but they would never stay quiet about her or her brother. They were only Bound god Sorcerers for thousands of miles. Not only were they blessed, but they were the former Court Mages. Everyone would talk about how she had gone soft if she only asked for cuddles.

I’ve gone soft, so fucking soft and fucking fat, she thought, I deserved it. Every last pound was another brick that would some day suffocate her. A slow means of suicide and she wanted it, because she was a fat disgusting bitch who couldn’t even keep one princess safe!

The Sorceress screamed, clawing at her belly with her nails, raking away the first layer of skin. She kicked at the half eaten chair, making it clatter against the stone floor. In all her bindings she never covered her toes or heels and in her stupid kick she hadn't kept a proper technique. She hopped around, cursing at herself now, her toes red. Pathetically she stumbled down to the stone, barely able to warp a section of floor to a feather bed before she landed. Why did her god allow her to hurt herself? Why couldn’t she have protection from her own ways, like other Sorcerers? Most everything else there was an attempt to stop an incoming blow, but self harm was always permitted. Well, unless it was permanent.

The door opened to the dust filled room, heavy boot steps echoed against the many pieces of shrouded furniture. Rosetta was conflicted on whether she should hide her tears. They wouldn’t stop flowing before Warren reached her. Damn him.

She covered her face with her hands, as he loomed over her. He made the dim room much darker around her. He didn’t say anything for a long while, letting her sobs die off. She laid down on the padded section of floor that she made, unable to meet his eyes.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said flatly.

“I want to die, I can’t do it,” she mumbled into the bed.

“No you don’t,” he said without a pause. “You just want out of this situation and a permanent solution is all your sick mind can think of.”

“No! I want to be gone…” she snapped, feeling some of the rage fade by the last word. What he said made some sense, but she didn’t want it to.

His pants, made of a sturdy material called “denim” creaked as he took a seat beside her, patiently waiting on her to speak. “Go on, tell me about it,” he said softly after a few moments.

Rosetta sniffled, looking up at him finally. “It never stops, I’m alright one bloody moment, and the next it comes to haunt mah. I’ll never bring her back, all my magic and I couldn’t protect my charge. I hate mahself, every single time I think of her. I can’t go a fuckin’ hour without being reminded of her. I’ll never be okay again!” she said quickly. She felt a horrific string of grief being tugged out of her as she admitted it.

Warren nodded, putting his hands on his knee. “A guard’s guilt. It’s pretty common in the army. Lots of people never recover. Yet here ya are Rosie, halfway across the world, still trying to do yer job. Little by little you keep trying. Ya had a momentary lapse in composure and hurt yerself and an object, now pick yerself up and let’s get to work.” From his pocket he plucked a packet of tissues and handed it to her.

She snatched it from him, tearing open the little paper package. “Yah don’t get to just say a few words and say yah made mah better like…” she grumbled, wiping at her face.

“Yer not gonna be better for good,” Warren said plainly. “Yer never gonna be the same, Rosie. Until ya finally leave this world, yer gonna be thinking about Luann and the night she died. It’s gonna be part of you forever. Ya have to live with that.”

Rosetta felt the walls closing in around her again. She trembled, trying to find some kind of response. Some way to crawl out of the hole she was in mentally. “Stop…” she whispered. Her heart pounded suddenly in panic.

His big finger caught her by the chin. In his deep blues was something resembling a smile. She tried to turn away from him. This time it was his full hand that got her, his thumb on one cheek, the rest of his fingers on the other, they touched her teeth beneath her cheeks. It was just enough pain for her to pay attention. “Ya gotta fill yer days with something. Something that isn’t grief. Something healthy. It doesn’t matter if you end up on this floor a thousand more times, it matters if you pick yourself up again. Now come on, let’s go, Rosie…” He released her and stood up to his full height, dusting off his pants.

She blinked, realizing that he was giving her something to hold onto. Though her limbs were weak, the drain emotionally and physically from her healing toes, she pushed herself up. With some effort she rose into the air. “Don’t call me, Rosie, mate,” she growled, hovering so high that she could meet his eyes. They were smiling at her and she hated that.

“Oh, but at least it’s yer name,” he said with that raised palmed shrug of his. “My men used to call me War Horse, or just Horse.”

“Why?” she asked, looking him over.

He slapped his thigh. “‘Cause I’m as sturdy as one,” he said with a laugh.

She couldn’t help but crack a smile. “It’s accurate like,” she remarked.

His face grew serious. “We have to at least get along, you and me,” he said evenly. “We have to guard these two should anything happen. I’m afraid these kids are gonna cause more trouble for the pair of them.”

“Professional,” Rosetta said. She felt a warming of her heart at his nodding smile. Her burden wasn’t as heavy currently, she flew with a greater ease. In degrees, not extremely. It wasn’t all gone, like he said it would never be gone. That thought still made her feel trapped, and her toes touched the stone at the thought of that girl on the bed. She shook it off, staring at Warren’s guarding hand as she returned to her hovering height. It was just high enough to look him in the eyes. “I can work with yah,” she said. “I’ve worked with plenty of people I didn’t like.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Now what have I done to gain yer ire?” he wondered, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yah aren’t mah bruther, quit actin’ like yah need to replace him,” she said, trying to be assertive.

“I’ve not hurt ya any more than ya have yourself,” he said. “Or any more than I might a fellow soldier. If you want no contact, then just tell me, I’ll listen…”

There was a block in Rosetta’s throat suddenly. A firm hold and a measly tossed bag of chips was all the offenses he had against her. In the books she devoured like candy there were much more graphic offenses. The women were feeble and weak, the men were strong and firm, bordering on abusive. How many times had she read the same scenario over and over again? Dress-rippers were her bread and butter. She stared at the giant man beside her. The sweet smile wasn’t like those books, but his hold and strength were. His insults to her were not too much for her to handle. “I’m not weak,” she managed to say. “If we’re soldiers, then we’re equals…”

His black brows raised with a chuckle, his slender lips curled into a smile. “Well, I guess you’re free to touch me too. Though I don’t think ya could do much without yer magic,” he said jovially.

She turned her head from him, whipping her ponytail in his direction. From the half eaten chair she picked up more bindings, lacing them through her hair and up her neck. The final wrappings went over her eyes in several layers. She could see perfectly fine through it, but it wouldn’t let anyone see where she was looking. It had been months since she had worn her full garb. She pushed the night out of her head when it came up. There was more for her to do now.

Warren and Rosetta sat side by side on chairs besides Susan and Ed’s bed. Rosetta crossed her legs on the seat, setting her hands on her bound knees. She struggled to keep calm with the others looking at her. Though her eyes were closed, she could feel them gazing at her, wondering if she would succeed. On the other side of Warren was Kalyah, monitoring the health of the young Ash Maker. His breathing told her that he was ready to start the psychic link. Suddenly Rosetta felt a gentle probing into her mind, a tingling sensation below her skull. It was the Paladin and she hardened her defenses, telling him she wasn’t ready.

“Jonah, Diana, would ya two mind sittin’ down and turnin’ away?” Warren asked. “It’s difficult to focus with an audience.”

The couple apologized and moved to a couch, turning it away from them. Rosetta peeked and saw Aiko was still laying down between the two twins on the bed. Whether Diana was still spying, she didn’t know. The familiar seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to the injured Ash Makers.

“Ya ready?” Warren whispered.

This close she could smell his masculine musk constantly, a fine mix of sweat and cologne. She locked down that thought, imagining it in a safe that was chained up and warded with spells. Any sick thoughts of desire went in there too. By his own words her mind was sick, so too she thought were any ideas of attraction to him. She didn’t like him. Hate was too strong because her mind loved to think in extremes. The contents of the safe were only bodily thoughts, lonely thoughts of a woman that rarely went without. Now she had denied herself for too long and everything was sounding good.

“Aye,” she said, adding a few more chains to the safe of dangerous thoughts.

“Go into your landscape and build yer room,” he said softly.

Rosetta pictured herself in her favorite place, the grove behind the castle in Principality. A particularly beautiful circle of oaks where a fire pit had been dug out. About the dirt circle, where no underbrush grew, fell many acorns and spiky leaves. The air was humid and smelled sharply of fresh plant life, the black earth was wet from only the humidity. In reality, the great slow moving river of the Greed was a half a mile away. This was a dreamscape though, and the circle of oaks repeated endlessly past the ring. Beside the fire pit Rosetta built an oil cloth tent, like one she had raised many times before. The ruddy cloth walls of the pyramid stood taut, held up by a single wooden pole in the center and secured to the earth by four strong spikes.

She had come here with others and she hid out here alone. Her relationship with her brother had not always been perfect, and sometimes she needed her peace and quiet. Mentally she remade her haven and to her surprise she felt herself walking in it. All the aspects had a fragile quality, the smell, the feel of the earth on her feet, and the texture of the oil cloth against her fingers, but it was real enough and her magic held it together. As she took a seat in the tent, the fire pit roared to life. The even ethereal lighting shifted to the dead of night, lit only by the crackling fire. She couldn’t see past the ring of oaks, it was darker than the earth out there.

Suddenly the Sorceress heard a high pitched laughter and knew instantly who lurked in the darkness. She tried to close her eyes, but her mental landscape was already behind one set of closed eyes. In the corner of her tent she heard the shifting of steel. In that safe she had placed shameful thoughts of the man and she thought all of the guilt. It was bulging out, eager to escape from the confines of the safe. She focused on the bending metal, but it wouldn’t return to its normal shape. The laughter came again. Such a young and innocent laugh echoing throughout the shadows. One that she had been happy to hear before, now it only breathed terror into her bones and soul.

The fire climbed higher, her fear piling logs atop it. Like a flash of lightning came the figure, resting a hand against an oak. She wore a bloody red nightgown, glassy dead eyes staring down at Rosetta. Across Luann’s throat was a nasty divide of open flesh, still dripping blood. How dare she forget her for even a moment? How dare she try to lock her away?

Luann tried to speak, but only a gurgle of blood came spilling out her open neck. A jumble of horrible sounds. Rosetta clapped her hands to her ears, the fragile sensations were now rock solid. She spoke the language of the young girl’s open throat and it pierced her hands like a dagger, stabbing into her eardrums and twisting around.

“Your fault, it’s all your fault. I died because of you. You disgusting Mage. I will never leave! You can’t lock me away. I will forever haunt your soul!” it hissed violently at her. There was no longer humidity in the air, it was blood in a fine mist. All that blood was on her hands, on her being. It was her fault.

“Rosie, come here,” came a man’s voice.

Rosetta’s vision became a blur as she wrenched her head about. The ghost was walking closer to her. Pure agony caught her by the wrists. Her throat screamed in protest. She was shouting, she realized. She could taste the faint sensation of blood on her tongue.

Her hands were torqued off her ears and she was crushed into a savage embrace. The wind was knocked out of her as she was held tighter than the bindings strapped across her body. Tears streamed down her face as she was allowed to breathe again. She smelled the scent of that man and in her mind she heard the faint sound of chains binding once again.

Was he able to hold the safe together with her? Of course he could. He was trained in this far more than her. If he actually needed her, then…

Her body ached and burned, so much magic had been consumed that she might as well have flown for hours. She went limp in Warren’s arms, coughing past the catch in her throat.

“Yer not ready yet,” he said gently into ear.

She finally opened her eyes, finding herself in the real world, in the room she had left to hide in her mind.

“It was a good effort, but ya aren’t ready yet,” he stated again.

He set her down on the chair. A small hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to a frowning Kalyah.

“You burned away a couple pounds in a few minutes,” the healer said quietly. “You should rest, honey.”

Jonah and Diana were up, staring at her also.

“Give mah water,” Rosetta said hoarsely. “We’re gonna figure this out…” She gestured with her hands out. “Come on, I can do this. War Horse, he’ll bring mah into his mind. Come on…” She coughed, feeling tears across her throat.

“Yah can do it, can’t yah?” she asked.

“I can try,” he admitted.

“I can do it,” she repeated. She guzzled down the cup of water and then another, ignoring the frowns all aimed at her.

“I can bloody do it,” she stated again.