Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) (22 page)

“No!”

The world shimmered between black and red as he dove for her, catching her before she could slide completely to the ground. He dragged her into his lap, cradling her to him. A fine trickle of blood ran down the corner of her mouth, mixing with the smear already there. Her eyes were closed and he was sure he was about to lose his fucking mind.

From somewhere, someone was screaming. For a moment, he thought the sound was coming from him. Then he realized it was Imogen.

She was wailing her death song.

H
e stood in their usual meeting place by the water, watching the clouds play childish games with the moon. The world around him slumbered and part of him wished he could be so lucky. It had been a week since he’d seen her, a week where he paced the docks, wondering if he’d lost her forever. Each night he prayed that that would be the night she would part the heavy fog lifting off the water and stand by his side, and every night he was left alone.

The moon was a solid disk of pale gold pinned to a velvet black sky. He stood surveying the straining shadows stretching away from the halos of light spilling across wet cobblestone. The air was cool and crisp from the rain earlier that day. It was interlaced with the scent of grass, wet dirt, sour water, and kerosene from the lamps. He drew it all in with his eyes open and his hands balled loosely in the depths of his pockets. A light gust of wind fluttered through his shortly cropped hair and caressed his upturned face.

To anyone foolish enough to venture the night at that hour, he would appear relaxed and content. Some would even mistake him as unguarded. But Gideon was painfully aware of every whisper, every tremor of change. He knew the moment the air behind him shifted and a solid mass stepped into the emptiness behind him, even before he caught the glint of steel coming at his throat.

In a single, powerful move, he wheeled about and not a moment too soon.

His blade clanged with the dagger. Sparks lit up the darkness and a soft, female laugh washed over him like a blanket of warmth.

“Kyrie?”

Another chuckle. “I almost had you that time.”

Steel struck the ground with a resounding clang. His hands were reaching for her before he could comprehend that it was his blade lying forgotten at their feet. She was yanked roughly into his chest. Improper be damned.

“Thank God!” His breathless prayer broke against her shoulder.

“Gideon.” Her quiet murmur squeezed his chest, as did the little nuzzle she gave the front of his coat.

His arms tightened around her, only to immediately yank away when she gasped and went rigid. He pulled back, searching her face in the soft light illuminating her magnificent blue eyes.

“Forgive me,” he murmured quickly. “I have just been so worried.”

“Father wished for me to train,” she explained in a tone a little too tight. “He was unpleased by my performance at the ceremony.”

Gideon frowned. “Your performance? You were incredible.”

Stowing her own weapon away in the holster at her hip, Valkyrie shook her head.

“Father thinks I took too long and I was not committed to the task.”

His scowl deepened. “That is ridiculous!”

With what she probably thought was a careless shrug, she turned away. “We should patrol.”

He snatched up his dagger off the ground, shoved it into his pocket and hurried after her.

“Valkyrie, wait.”

He knew the moment he took her arm that something wasn’t right.

She hissed and jerked out of his touch. But it wasn’t a sound of anger. It was a sound of pain. His hand came away wet and he became aware of the ting of copper impregnating the air. It was thick, as thick and moist as the crimson stain marring his palm. He thought for a moment that maybe he’d cut himself without realizing, but he knew better.

“You are bleeding!”

“It is nothing,” she said before he could even finish voicing his concern.

He ignored her. “Are you hurt?”

“I am all right.”

Gideon took a step closer and for the second time that night, he reached for her. She didn’t resist him when he touched her shoulders and twisted her body around.

Light shone down the length of her rigid spine. It highlighted the dark fabric of her coat and the even darker wet patches seeping through from shoulder to tailbone and the lengths of her arms. He couldn’t be sure, but he was certain her legs were no better. Her entire back end was oozing blood.

“What the hell is this?” he growled.

“It is nothing—”

“This is not nothing!” he snapped at her, moving around to confront her without touching her again, knowing that if he did, he might do something irrevocably damaging. “Are these new?”

She refused to meet his gaze. “Please, Gideon—”

“Are these new?” he repeated, louder.

“No!” Her blue eyes shot to his, shining with anger and a plea for him to let it go.

Every muscle coiled in fury. It took five deep inhales before he managed to calm himself enough to speak without punching the lamppost.

“Why have these wounds not been healed?” His voice trembled with his restraint. “The ceremony was nearly eight days ago.”

Her gaze flitted away from his. “They will be.”

“When?” His snarl ricocheted down the narrow alleyway like the crack of a whip.

“When Father wishes it.”

Another thought had him seeing red. “Have you been training with your body injured like this? Answer me!” he roared when she made to turn away from him.

“Stop it!” She straightened her shoulders. “They will not affect my abilities to patrol. I can still fight!”

“That was not my question!”

“Yes!” she shot back, breathing as hard as he was.

He backed away from her. He had to. He could no longer trust himself near her, not when bloodthirsty madness was fighting so hard to overtake him.

“I can still fight!” she insisted.

He put a hand up, stopping her when she made to take a step towards him. He turned away, rubbed his free hand over his face. It shocked him how it trembled.

“I...” He shook his head. “I made myself promise that I would hold my tongue. That I would not interfere—”

“Gideon...”

He forced himself to face her once more. “No, Valkyrie, I can no longer do this. I refuse to sit idly by while you are tortured.”

“I am not tortured,” she protested.

His brow lifted. “And what would you call it?”

She folded her arms, seeming so small. “You knew what the ceremony would be like.”

“Yes, but did you honestly believe I would accept it?”

“I told you not to come.”

“I would never have not come,” he countered. “I have been alive for too many generations. I have seen horrors you could not imagine. I have killed. I have watched life fade from a man’s eyes. I have walked through oceans of blood and, to this very day, hear the serenade of death in my sleep. But not once in all those years have I witnessed an act so vile that it made me sick to my stomach the way your marking ceremony did.”

She visibly recoiled.

But he wasn’t finished.

“Yet even that was nothing compared to this moment.” He searched her wide, pain-filled eyes. “I said nothing when you were beaten and deprived of sleep for five days in some twisted method of preparation to nearly get killed by two demons. I held my tongue when everything inside me screamed at the thought of seeing you that way. But you cannot ask me to say nothing when you stand before me, drenched in your own blood.”

“It is nothing!” she insisted. “They were not bleeding this morning.”

His fingers bunched at his sides. “They should not be bleeding at all! They should have been healed right after your fight. What sort of perverse game is your father playing?”

“It is not a game!” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I deserve this. I displeased Father. This is my punishment.”

Nothing in the world, no amount of restraint could stopper the molten hot rush of livid fury from bursting forth, shattering what little hold Gideon had on himself. He could scarcely see past the toxic red shroud suffocating him.

She reached for him. “Gideon—”

“Do not touch me!” He staggered away from her.

“Where are you going?” she called after him when he stumbled his way down the docks.

He said nothing as he reached the end and stood staring at the empty streets. The night that had appeared so serene only moments ago was now fraught with a bitter tang that coated the inside of his mouth like poison. He wanted to spit, but knew it wouldn’t help.

“Why are you upset?” She had come up behind him.

Despite the rivers of rage coursing through his veins, Gideon laughed. “Why am I upset?” He turned to her, finally stable enough to look into her face and rein in the urge to hunt her father down like a dog and paint the streets with his blood. “How can you be so blind? How can you even think to ask me such a thing? How can you not know?”

“The tradition of my people—”

“What is below?” he cut her off. “Where were you taken after the fight?”

“Gideon—”

“Where?” he repeated louder.

Her bottom lip disappeared between anxious teeth. Her gaze slid away from him, the tears painfully bright.

“The pit,” she mumbled so low, the crash of waves against the docks nearly swallowed the words.

“What is the pit?”

She turned away and made her way back to the pier. Gideon followed.

“It was built during the war.” She stopped at the very end, before she could go tumbling into the ocean and faced him. “My father used it to keep prisoners for interrogation.”

“A dungeon?” he guessed.

Her visible wince answered before she did. “Not exactly. Gideon, please, let’s not speak of this.” She turned imploring eyes on him. “I beg of you.”

It thrummed through him to argue, to press her until she told him. Instead, he could only nod and watch as relief washed over her face. She gave him a grateful smile, one he couldn’t find in him to return, not when he could still envision the blood soaking through her clothes.

“We should start the hunt.”

“Gideon...”

Shaking his head, Gideon started away.

“Will you please stop?” The crack of her heels shattered the night as she hurried after him. “Gideon!”

“No!” He whirled around so fast, she ran straight into him. He had to grab her to keep her from pitching head first into the ocean. He released her just as quickly out of fear of agitating her injuries. “I refuse to bite my tongue any longer. Your father is a tyrant!” he snarled. “An evil dictator with a thirst for blood. A madman that should be put down like the dog he is!”

“How dare you!” she hissed at him. Now her anger was as white hot as his. “That is my father!”

“Your father...” Those two words were shredded through the tight clench of his teeth. “Is worse than a demon.”

Her dagger was out in a brilliant flash of steel and at his throat before he could finish. She was trembling, but her grip was unnaturally steady.

“Chose your next words very carefully, Caster,” she warned in a low murmur.

Gideon never so much as flinched. He closed the inch separating him from the blade. A warm trickle of blood rolled down to pool in the hollow of his throat. Still, he held her gaze.

“Kill me,” he challenged. “That is the only way you will save your king from the death I will give him.”

Her nostrils flared. “What are you doing, Avery?”

Any other time, her use of his surname would amuse him. It only reared its head when she was especially infuriated by him. Now it only managed to prickle his own annoyance.

“What I should have done ages ago.” He braced himself before speaking again. “Leave.”

Valkyrie blinked. “What?”

“Leave,” he repeated. “Leave before it is too late.”

The dagger dropped from his jugular. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Perhaps.” His wiry grin faded as quickly as it came. “You do not belong with them, Valkyrie. You are not like them.”

“I am a warrior!” she said almost defensively.

“And you still can be, but not with them.” He took a deep breath. “You know what I say is true.”

She shook her head. “No, I am a Harvester. I am the daughter of Arild Devereaux, Ruler of Armies and Harvester of Souls. I ... I...” Uncertainty flickered across her face, reflected in her shimmering eyes. “What you are asking me to do is treason. I would be marked as a traitor. I would be exiled.” Her hand went to her right arm where he knew her mark burned beneath her sleeve. “Everything I have worked towards would be for nothing. My marking ceremony would have been for nothing. How can you ask me to give up who I am?”

“You are Valkyrie,” he murmured quietly. “You are strong and brave and more beautiful than any woman I have ever met. You are not just what they are telling you.”

“Where would I go?”

“With me.” He reached out and lightly brushed back a dark strand that had escaped the twisted knot containing her heavy riot of curls. “You know my parents will welcome you. You will have a home with us. No one will ever lay a hand on you again. You will be safe.”

The fear in her eyes tore at him, but he didn’t back down. He had finally said that which had been eating at him since the moment they had met. Now it was up to her to make the choice.

Her gaze went to the mark her blade had made on his throat. “My whole life has been about duty and loyalty. I was raised to obey.” Her lashes lifted and he was caught in the blue pools of her eyes. “I have earned respect with my people. I should not ask for more.”

“Respect is not everything,” he murmured. “What about love?”

Her smile was rueful. “Is for children and fools.”

“Do you believe that?”

Her smile faded. She seemed to be holding her breath as he was holding his.

“No.”

His aching fingers reached for her, no longer willing to withstand the distance. But they closed on air as a shadow pulled away from the others and Valkyrie spun away, dagger ready to be thrown.

Serinda stepped into the middle of the pier, only a mere five feet from where Gideon and Valkyrie stood. Clearly close enough to have overheard everything. Gideon wondered how long she’d been there and how she had managed to get so close without him having noticed. But then, his entire focus had been on Valkyrie.