Blood of the Guardian (24 page)

Nolan shrugged and met Rikar’s glowing white eyes.
“Probably not. But I don’t care.”

The camp still lingered in the clearing, though they were supposed to have traveled already. He presumed all the transformations had changed their plans. The lights of Brim shone in the clearing, haphazardly jammed in different branches of trees. Each symbol spread out on a section of the camp, some large and others scarcely big enough to contain a man.

Jezebelle went through the camp, checking on others. Empathy was one of the easiest transitions; she appeared to take to it well. A few people sat, hands over their ears or retching in the weeds. Others lay on the ground, curled in tight balls with their emergence of Strength. Nolan shuddered, remembering. Strength was, by far, the worst Shay to gain.

Jezebelle paused, stopping in the light of Empathy, standing in it while she played with the violet hues on her palm. Nothing happened, of course. Once one gained a power, the lights were useless to them … but not to Nolan. By Brim, he needed the light.

He’d become part of this freakish show because of his powers. Now that the whole camp had them, what use would he be?

Maybe the gypsies would go on pretending they were normal. It was possible. Nolan had done it. But he doubted they would have enough self-control to keep up the façade.

Now that there was no law against having a power, they could display them without the threat of being a traitor. If they were going to keep Nolan, they would have to stretch him further, make him more unique. They’d already pushed him near death. Somehow, he had to get the stones and escape.

Jezebelle cut across the clearing, around the unused fire pit, and straight through the symbol of Strength illuminating on the ground. She stopped in her steps, hesitating in the light. Holding out her hands, she wiggled her fingers in the foreign Shay. Alec had done that once—he’d stood in a light that wasn’t his own—and it had given him a massive headache for days. Nolan smiled, amused at the idea of her laid up in bed. However, Nolan’s grin melted, falling from his face like a dropped stone. He stood slowly, blinking back the shock, as Jezebelle’s feet lifted from the ground and pinpricks of red light formed around her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

MEGAN GASPED, sitting up straight. Her nightshirt clung to her as her body dripped with sweat. She jerked her eyes around the room, then to her wrists, rubbing them.

No ropes.

A dream.

The
dream—it always felt so real.

A hand touched her arm. She whirled, her hand squeezed into a fist. She relaxed when warm brown eyes met hers. “Megan?”

Her aggression and fear melted.
Emery.
He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, whispering that everything was
all right. She wept, contentment and safety replacing the forced passion and fears. Finally, she drew back, looking into Emery’s concerned face. She placed a hand on his moist cheek. Were they her tears? Or had he been crying too?

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows on half his face. His pallet of furs and blankets lay on the floor near the flames. Disheveled blankets spread across the space where he’d jumped up to comfort her. Now he sat next to her on the bed that was supposed to be theirs. Her heart thrummed, increasing. She leaned in to kiss him, and his posture stiffened.

“Meg … No.”

She jerked away, turning from him. Her cheeks burned. She wasn’t asking for … well, for that. Was she that revolting?

The weight of his body left the bed. She heard him retreat to the floor. Blankets ruffled. He sighed, and silence took over. Like every other night, it ended with Megan alone.

Megan tossed on her mattress, pulling the covers over her face. The tears came again; this time, it wasn’t because of her past with Alcandor. She held back her snuffling, not wanting Emery to hear. Then a memory floated into her mind, pushing away her grief. Alcandor had controlled her when he’d made her kiss Emery. Her face heated in the darkness as she remembered. Alcandor had controlled her, yes; but he hadn’t pushed very hard. Every smidgen of yearning she’d withheld over the years had burst through at that moment. Alcandor had only broken her guard.

And Emery had kissed her back.

His hands had touched her neck, her back, her hips, pulling her into him, pressing her body against his. So strong and gentle and full of yearning. She hugged the blanket, biting into it. She wanted her husband, and he wanted nothing to do with her.

What kind of marriage did they have? How could Emery love her when he never wanted to touch her? Emery had told her their marriage would be for show. But when she’d discovered he actually loved her … she’d hoped differently. Had Nolan lied? Maybe Nolan had only told her about Emery to get rid of her. Maybe Emery didn’t love her after all.

Her anger at Nolan abruptly washed away. He was still missing. So was Alec. The kingdom balanced on the brink of war, and all she wanted was to pull Emery into her bed? What was wrong with her? Emery had bigger things to worry about than the desires of a silly girl—even if the silly girl had just married him. She pulled the blankets closer, gripping them under her chin. She needed to give him space.

A faint knock sounded at the door. Emery jumped to his feet, grabbing the bundle of blankets from the floor. He flung them on the other side of the bed, out of sight, avoiding Megan’s gaze as he headed toward the visitor. He cracked the door open, and it creaked in protest. Emery’s eyes flared violet as he frowned with annoyance. “Yes, what is it?”

A soldier stood in the opening, his feet shifting. He looked like a child who’d been caught disobeying. Megan snorted. The guy believed he’d interrupted them.

“Your Majesty,” the man said, “General Trividar has returned.”

Megan sat straighter, listening.

“And?” Emery prodded.

“And, my king, they’ve found Ekon.”

“I will be there in a moment.” Emery shut the door and met her eyes. “Finally, we might have some news.”

Megan jumped from the bed and grabbed the dress she’d discarded that night. Emery strode to his closet and yanked out a fresh tunic. He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and Megan froze. Emery was always private, unlike the other men who strutted around showing their muscles. Emery wasn’t a fighter. He negotiated and led. He never trained with swords or spears. He was thin, but defined muscles covered his torso, and a smattering of black hair decorated his chest—just the right amount. Megan blinked, realizing she’d been staring. And why shouldn’t she? He was her husband, wasn’t he? Emery turned toward her, his fresh tunic in his fist.

Mustering what little bravery she had, she pulled her nightshirt over her head and imagined being alone. The only men who’d ever seen her like this were Alcandor and Maska, neither of which were under good circumstances. She’d never
chosen
to let
someone see her, until now. Stepping into her dress, she pulled it over her shoulders, adjusting it into place.

Finally, she risked a glance. Had he watched or looked away? He stood in the same position, his eyes locked on her and his shirt clenched in a white-knuckled grip. His bottom lip had dropped ever so slightly.

She smiled, smugness filling her. He’d watched.

Emery turned away, almost bumping into the closet door. He grabbed the rest of his clothes and stepped behind the privacy screen. She brushed her hair, pleased. He may refuse to touch her, but she’d make certain he knew what he was missing.

A light knock sounded at the door, and Megan answered this time. The same young soldier stood, his awkwardness returning. “Your Majesty. Please tell King Emery they have him in the throne room.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The young man left, practically fleeing. Megan carefully shut the door.

As she turned, Emery approached, fastening the last of the gold buttons on his doublet. He looked good, but he was always handsome. His trimmed beard. The sharp angle of his jaw. Her heart quickened.

His eyes flicked to hers, flaring slightly with his Empathy. He sensed her emotions often, and it sent flutters of pleasure through her when he did. Such a personal touch of his mind. He knew how she felt about him. He always knew. A lump formed in her throat.

He brought a hand to her cheek. Hesitating, his fingertip traced her jaw and then dropped to his side. “I’m sorry, Meg. We’ll talk more about things later, okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak. The spot where he’d touched her burned.

They left the room, and she fell in behind Emery, her heart still fluttering from his brief touch. At least he wanted to talk.

As they approached the throne room, Strength Rol’dan swung open the doors, allowing them to pass through without slowing their pace. A dozen or more soldiers lined the chamber, the air in the room volatile. All here were supporters of Emery. Most of the troublemakers had fled with Ekon, who now knelt in the center, arms and legs chained. Maska pressed him down with one hand on his shoulder while the red light of Strength blazed from his eyes. General Trividar held a sword to Ekon’s throat, his eyes golden. Ekon would not be escaping.

Megan joined a grouping of Rol’dan, while Emery continued forward, all eyes watching him. The traitor glared, smug defiance on his face. His swollen nose had been recently broken. And bruising formed on his jaw and eye.

“General. Report,” Emery said.

“We tracked them to a clearing and found evidence of an altercation. There were two dead traitors, but no sign of Alec or the girl. After we continued on for another day, we found Ekon.”

“Who killed the traitors?” Emery asked.

General Trividar pressed his blade into Ekon’s throat. “He won’t talk, Your Majesty. However, it would appear they died by the sword.”

“Alec?” Emery asked.

Megan grabbed the seams of her dress, squeezing. It could be Alec. But where was he now?

“Perhaps,” Kael said, sneering. “But like I said, Your Majesty, Ekon refuses to talk.”

Emery nodded and approached, but Ekon only grinned.

“The boy came to you?” Emery asked.

Ekon stared ahead, his grin widening.

Kael pressed the blade into his throat. “Did you not hear your king?”

“He is
not
my king.”

Murmurs spread through the room but died as Kael yanked his blade. Megan gasped, covering her mouth, expecting to see a shower of blood. Instead, Ekon cursed as a stripe of red appeared; the blade hardly marred his skin. Ekon jumped to his feet, cursing, but Maska forced him down.

“Don’t touch me, Talasw—”

Maska punched Ekon between the eyes. He fell, slamming against the stones as blood poured from his misshapen nose.

“Next time, I will remove it,” Maska growled.

Several Rol’dan stepped forward, but Emery held up his hand. They hesitated, then returned to their places.

The rage fell from Maska’s face. He blinked, as if realizing what he’d done. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Emery said, his eyes hard. “Get him to his knees.”

Maska yanked him, forcing him into a kneeling position. Ekon glared as blood poured down his chin.

“The young Deverell boy. He came to you?” Emery asked calmly.

“The swine lover came to us, yes.” Ekon spit blood on the stone floor.

“And the girl? Is she alive?”

Ekon shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Emery walked toward him, slowly, regally. Megan swallowed. So powerful, so
kingly.
His brown eyes faded into a brilliant violet light. Ekon flinched, and his smugness faltered and melted.

Emery’s eyes increased in color so that all the whites disappeared. He knelt before Ekon, pushing his chin up so their faces were only breath apart. Ekon didn’t resist.

“Ekon,” Emery said, “tell me exactly what happened.”

Ekon swallowed. “We found a spot. We were going to have a bit of fun with the girl.”

“Fun?” Emery asked. “Can you elaborate?”

“Aye,” Ekon said, as if he were explaining the weather. “Fun. Going to use her. It’s better when they fight a bit.”

Emery’s jaw tensed. “Did you succeed, Captain?”

“No. The boy interrupted us. He killed a few of my men before taking her and running off.”

“Do you know where they are? The boy and the princess?”

“Well, we stuck the boy with an arrow in the stomach. Will kill him, but it’ll be nice and slow.” Even under Emery’s trance, Ekon’s face spread into a grin. “We were tracking them when the General found me. Hadn’t found the boy or the Talaswine girl yet. But we will.”

Emery’s Shay ripped from Ekon’s mind. Ekon gasped, falling to the floor on his side. Finally, his head rose, and a sneer fixed in place. “Too bad you only found me. They’ll have crushed the boy’s skull by now … properly, this time.”

“General. Did you see others?”

“No, Your Majesty. We only saw Ekon.”

“Go back to where you found him, and search for Alec and the princess.”

Kael nodded, his eyes already taking on Speed. “We will leave at once.”