Healing Eden (6 page)

“You assume too quickly, warrior.” Her genteel demeanor disappeared. Whether a trick of shadows or actual manifestation, Clio loomed larger, angled for attack with a steel-laced voice to back it up. “You’ve assumed wrong before. Perhaps you should put your strategic abilities to task and favor a different path this time. One that serves the greater good and stands for what you know is right.”

Her stance eased, and her tension settled as swiftly as it had come. She folded her hands in front of her. “The choice is yours to make. Search yourself and make the right one.”

Her image dimmed.

Reese lurched forward to try and stop her, but met air.

She was gone. Poofed to nothing. If he’d found the cell dismal before it was worse now. His soul itched with discomfort.

He covered the cell’s width in three long strides and slammed his palms against the wall. A roar knotted at the base of his throat, neck straining for release. All the pain, all his bad decisions, balled into one giant barricade.

Lead Maxis to goodness? With Ramsay and Eryx’s blessing?

He rested his forehead against the cold crystal and groaned. He’d need more than strategy to bring what Clio wanted to pass. He’d need a fucking miracle.

* * * *

Maxis stuck to the shadowed side of Cush’s main thoroughfare, the other sparkling with gold flecks in the morning sunshine. Serena’s link pulsed a pastel yellow in his mind’s eye, its mental map showing her location barely a block away, just over the next rise.

The stubborn minx. If it were anyone else he’d have avoided the sun and waited until nightfall to do his business, but delaying with Serena was a bad idea. Mending the hole he’d blown in her pride would take some impressive sucking up. Leaving her alone to stew on it longer would only up his deficit.

He shielded his degenerative eyes from the reflections and ambled up the hill. Every flicker plucked at the nerves behind his retinas and left a path of bruises on his brain. He’d trade cheery, searing sunshine for dark or cloudy skies any day. He sidestepped a well-dressed lad running down the sidewalk. It could be worse. Serena’s parents could live on the poor side of town.

“Maxis. I need a word.”

Maxis groaned at the mental summons. Thyrus was a pain-in-the-ass middleman and a glutton on a good day, but damned handy when it came to information.
“What do you want?”

“Yes, well.”
A stammer and string of garbled noises brought to mind Thyrus’ flapping jowls.
“It’s Angus. Says he needs a word with you posthaste. Seems he’s still a bit agitated over his last confrontation with Eryx. The old man didn’t take too well to being made the fool.”

“He made himself a fool,”
Maxis replied.
“He wasn’t supposed to use the information until we had proof. Let alone confront the malran in front of the whole damned council. If he can’t hold his tongue or his temper, that’s hardly my fault.”

He stopped in front of one of the cootyas. Wooden crates were stacked in chaotic yet artful patterns and filled with Eden’s bold colored fruits and vegetables. Dealing with Angus was the last thing he needed today. Charming Serena alone would suck up a year’s worth of charisma. “
Where is he?”

“At my office. Was here when I arrived this morning. Very fidgety and quite loud. Not good for business.”

No, probably not. Thyrus might be a finger-licking meat eater in search of his next buffet, but he had a healthy legal practice to pay for his gullet’s demands. If said business handed Maxis frequent insight into the cracks and scandals of the Myren elite, then so be it.
“Keep him there.”

Thyrus huffed and dropped their connection.

This part of the capital was surprisingly quiet. A block away an ostentatious fountain shot steams of water from moss-green marble, a centerpiece for one of Cush’s most exclusive neighborhoods. The light chatter of early morning business droned behind him.

Dealing with his future bride wouldn’t be a straightforward affair. And while she might come up with a half dozen more ways to make him pay for his harsh statements between now and when they next met, she wouldn’t go off half-cocked like Angus.

Rerouting to Thyrus’ office in the business district, he took to the skies. Better to nip the ellan’s frustration while he could. He’d use the delay to his advantage and offer a fresh spin to keep Eryx and Angus at each other’s throats a little longer. Maybe even long enough to let Maxis bounce back from his losses.

Sunshine slanted across the ivory domed rooftops and taupe brick-laid streets. Street vendors settled their carts for a new day, canvas awnings stretched to battle what promised to be an over-warm morning. The trip took no more than five minutes by air, but was enough to stoke the slow ache behind his eyes to a nasty throb.

He stormed the stairs to Thyrus’ office, his bootheels clipping against the smooth gray sandstone. The top floor opened to a long, open-air corridor with three Blackwood doors along each side. Faint, muffled voices sounded from the far end, the other spaces void of energy.

He opened the last door on his right.

Thyrus’ voice hung in the air, his jaw slack on an unspoken word.

Angus scowled and spun toward the entrance
.
At least Maxis though it was a scowl. It could have been the old man had left his dentures at home.

“You.” Angus shuffled forward with hunched shoulders. “You and your bogus information left me and my constituents in a bad place with the malran.” He stopped a foot out of Maxis’ reach and wagged a bony finger. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t divulge my sources and turn you in.”

Constituents his ass.
If Angus gave a damn about the people of his region Maxis would hang himself at the malran’s request. “I’ll give you three reasons.” A cream-colored sofa stretched beneath a high, wide window. Maxis strolled around Angus and settled on one side. “Number one, Eryx already knows your source. To think anything else would be to discredit his intellect. While I find his family to be a generational string of pompous do-gooders, he’s not stupid.”

He propped his booted foot on the ornate glass and iron table in front of him. “Number two, the information you were given wasn’t bogus. And, three
.
” He stretched his arms out along the sofa back. “You can use that information to make Eryx’s life hell
,
if not cost him his throne.” He paused and tilted his head. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

Angus straightened as much as his stooped frame would allow. His fingers twitched at his sides and sent a ripple through his crisp white council robe. “How?”

The fickle bastard. Maxis ought to make him grovel after the attitude he’d thrown around. Probably, not the best time to posture though if he wanted to keep Angus as an ally.

Thyrus waddled around his oversized black desk.

“My sources tell me you challenged how Eryx knew Lexi was Myren before he brought her here,” Maxis said. “Are they correct?”

Angus nodded.

“And what was his response?”

The councilman harrumphed and waved a dismissive hand. He tottered toward the high maroon wingback at Maxi’s right. “A bunch of evasive nonsense about not being able to disclose such matters until certain security aspects were researched.” He eased into the chair, stiff, like he had more than a proverbial stick up his ass. “Considering my recent episode with the malran, I wasn’t about to crawl any farther up his bad side in a public forum.”

Ah, yes. The episode. He’d heard about Angus convening criminal trials in Eryx’s absence. Damned if Eryx hadn’t judged him guilty of treason for daring to act on his behalf.

Maxis scratched at his jaw. “So, the malran stripped your rank. You’re still a valued ellan
,
sworn to act in the best interest of the Myren people and to champion the malran’s vision. Correct?”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “What of it?”

“So, you play the concerned, agreeable councilman.” Maxis stood and straightened his overcoat. “I understand the malress has professed a desire to find more lost Myrens, such as herself. The best way for you to support our newest leader is to support her causes
.
To jump on the bandwagon, so to speak.”

He paced to Thyrus’ desk and plucked a pink hard candy from a delicate ivory dish at the edge. “Of course, to find our lost, we’ll need to know how Eryx identified our malress. That type of information can’t be withheld from the council. It should be public knowledge so we can better seek and protect our people.”

“A good angle.” Thyrus nodded. “We have a moral obligation. Can’t have any of our lost folk traipsing about in Evad all alone.”

Maxis couldn’t help but smile. Such support, and without the mention of food. “A nice touch, old friend.” He squared his attention on Angus. “You’re a gifted politician with a host of solid connections. What do you think? Can you make it work? Or did the…episode…affect more than your placement on the council?”

Angus straightened in his chair, torso angled forward and shaking. “I can make it work.”

“Good. I look forward to watching Eryx squirm from the sidelines.” Maxis headed toward the door. That hadn’t gone bad at all. If anything he had more bounce in his step. Who’d have thought it possible? “Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ll return to my errand. But do keep me updated on your progress.”

Angus’ voice cracked across the room. “Maxis.”

Maxis paused at the threshold and lifted one eyebrow.

“A word to the wise. Rumor has it the malran’s men are searching for the rebellion leader.” Angus anchored his elbows on his armrests and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His grin looked about as innocent as a dagger. “I’d hate to lose a valued colleague.”

…with all council agenda items completed and new business assigned, the formal session between our esteemed malran and the region representatives of Eden were concluded at fifteen spans past sunrise in the year of our race, three-thousand, six-hundred and thirty-eight.

Eryx snapped the old journal shut and leaned back in his desk chair. He anchored his elbow on the armrest and rubbed his chin. Pale sunlight speared through the library’s arched windows, distant and annoyingly chipper voices slipping through the open panes.

His muscles twitched and a restless simmer crept beneath his skin. His mate was only just now recovering from being kidnapped, her human best friend was still held captive by his worst enemy somewhere in Eden, and a whole mess of politicians were breathing down his neck.

And he was drudging through old transcripts.

He’d kill for a dagger and decent fight. Histus, he’d even take a quick spar with Ludan. At least his somo wouldn’t pull any punches.

“Here. Take a look at this one.” Lexi shoved a new tome beside the one he’d finished. The damned things would’ve made tolerable bricks in the castle walls. Eighteen by eleven and an average of four inches thick, they ate up a whole wall, their leather covers weighting the room with the scent of age and dust.

Lexi hustled to the other side of the desk. She’d spurned the closet full of gowns and tunic sets he’d given her in favor of Levi’s and a soft purple tank. The way the denim hugged her ass, he had half a mind to commandeer the whole damned Strauss empire.

She opened a new book and ducked her head. The sun shot across her long, soft-black hair to call out hints of blue.

His bainenann. His malress.

And he’d nearly lost her.

The restlessness jumped from a simmer to boil, and pressure knotted at the base of his throat. “What makes you think this one’s any better than the last one?”

“Dirt.” She winked, flipped the page, and reclined into the chair she’d dragged from her matching desk across the room. “I figure the more layers, the older and juicier the information.”

Not exactly how he’d hoped to spend the second week of mated life. Then again, it beat how he’d spent the first. Considering she’d been nearly killed by Maxis and his rebellion fanatics, he’d halfway expected her to cut bait and head back to Evad. But no, she was here, sharing his desk, helping him dig for a historic precedent to bail his ass out of hot water with the ellan.

Helluva woman.

“If I did the math right, mine starts around 1760.” Lexi smoothed her hand down the parchment. “It would be nice if you guys counted years the same as us.”

“Them.”

She looked up, a silent question on her face.

“Humans,” he said. “They’re a them. You’re Myren.”

She waved him off. “Semantics. I was a them a long time and always will be. How far back is yours?”

Eryx glanced at the spine. “1520 to 1580.”

She squinted, gaze distant for a few seconds before it sharpened. “That’s like…your great-grandfather’s reign?”

He rubbed his eyes, the burn from hours scanning faded ink on yellow parchment going nowhere fast. “No. Grandfather.”

“Pfft.” She frowned and turned another page. “Generations were hard enough to track with an average life span of eighty. An average of five hundred years is gonna take a while to wrap my head around.”

“You’ll get there.” No doubt faster than most. For a woman who’d spent her whole life with few friends, no family, and scraping to make ends meet, she’d done pretty damned good taking on his hodgepodge clan, a sizable estate, and a royal title.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Lexi peeked over the back of her chair. “Hey, Galena.”

Galena shut the door and glided across the rug emblazoned with the Shantos family mark, a black horse reared back with wings spread wide on a backdrop of deep maroon. “Am I interrupting? Orla said you’re trying to find something.”

“Political ammo.” Lexi marked her place on the page with one finger. “Eryx needs arguments to warrant his bringing me here and healing Brenna.”

Or else he’d lose his throne. No one ever said it out loud, but his brain sure offered it up often enough. Intervention in human destiny or disclosing their race to humans were the two sacred tenants that had ruled his race from the very beginning, handed down from The Great One, himself.

And he’d broken them both for Lexi.