Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (27 page)

“Truthfully, I didn’t think anything I said would have swayed you. You are strong willed, Magdalene. You had made up your mind and you weren’t going to change it, not for a conceited, obstinate warrior like me.”

My mouth fell open in shock.

“Yes, I know what you think of me,” he muttered.

“That was before I knew you,” I said, my humility weakening my voice until it was almost inaudible.

“And how do you think of me now?” he asked, avoiding my eyes as he switched to my other cheek.

I felt tension rising between us but considered it to be entirely coming from me. He seemed so relaxed, but then that was his typical demeanor.

“I think of you as confident,” I said, which sounded better than arrogant. “You’re firm when needed and jovial when not. You’re fair and balanced. You exude charisma.”

“I do?” he asked, amused.

“You haven’t noticed the girls who walk just close enough to our camp in an effort to get your attention?”

“I have not.”

I thought that was peculiar…and charming.

“It’s interesting that you have…,” he murmured.

I bristled, which he noticed and chivalrously changed the subject.

“So, is that all? Confident, firm, jovial, and charismatic?”

Seductively appealing
, I thought and had to move quickly past it.

“You’re compassionate, intelligent, an inspiration to those you lead, and…”

“Yes?” he said, noticing me wavering. “I can accept it.”

“You are authoritative.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbled curiously.

“What?”

“You have an ability to read others.” As an afterthought, he added, “Yet, after meeting me and my guards, you still felt that guardians were not needed.”

I tensed at that honest critique, which made him balance it with a compliment.

“You did the best you could with them, bringing in Daniel and Jacob,” he said, reverting the subject back to a more comfortable discussion point.

“When you had Daniel make the announcement, you did it to ease me into the idea of it,” I said, though it sounded more like a question.

“I did it because I figured you were less likely to argue back. Clearly I was wrong,” he grumbled.

I tried to stop myself from smiling but failed.

“And what are you finding so funny?” he asked, captivatingly.

“You kept huffing when I tried to counter you on the judgment.”

“Yes I did,” he said unashamed. “And you kept trying to cut me off.”

“Yes I did,” I said with an equal amount of pride.

His hand dropped a few inches and settled gently on my neck, beginning to wipe away the blood there. It caught me off guard and my inhale stuttered. He paused to assess me.

“Don’t stop.”

He nodded and tenderly placed his hand back on the side of my neck.

“What did you think when you saw me in the Hall of Records?”

“You mean when I learned that you had kept from me the fact that you were a messenger?”

“Yes.”

Our eyes met. In mine, I know he saw defiance. His were unenthusiastic.

“I thought you had a death wish.” He shrugged. “I
still
believe you have a death wish.”

“No, what did you
think
?”

His hand fell away as he casually evaluated me. “I wondered how you could possibly have thought you could have gotten away with what you intended. I then wondered if you had ever considered the level of danger you are in. Finally, I accepted that you would fight me on what I had to do. All of this, of course, happened in the span of seconds. But my reaction wasn’t so much a thought as it was a feeling. Stark, unrelenting.” His head dipped but came back up and I could almost see the caginess in his eyes now. “I had never felt that kind of inhibition before. It was almost as if I was being swallowed by darkness.”

“Fear,” I said without thinking.

His eyes rolled skyward. “That might be an apt name for it. All the time I searched for you, from the point in time when I fell until I reached the Jurgen home, that feeling gripped me.” His jaw tightened in memory of it.

“Why didn’t you ask the messengers where to find me?”

“I did. No one knew, except…” His voice faded away.

“Except?”

“I could have sworn Hermina knew. She kept dodging me, avoiding me in the hall and at training. Eventually, I felt my efforts were futile and I could do better on my own.”

My lips turned up in a melancholic grin.

“So, she did know…,” he surmised.

And my lips broadened into a beaming smile. The cuts across my face allowed it to stay no longer than a quick breath.

He frowned. “At least I know who your ally is.”

His hand came back to my neck and he shifted closer for more leverage.

A few minutes passed as I focused on avoiding the way my body was responding to him being so close. I thought I had been doing a decent job of it but just after I reminded myself that he had feelings for someone else he noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it too painful?”

Yes.

«No. I’m…I’m just embarrassed.”

He went back to cleaning. “At what exactly?”

“My scrapes.”

He paused, held his breath, and released it in shocked laughter. “Magdalene, you’re stunning. A few scrapes can’t hinder that…”

My breath caught in my throat at his unreserved compliment.

“You think so?” I whispered before realizing I had said it.

Eran’s hand fell to his lap again and his head began to shake in amazement. “You…You take my breath away…”

He seemed to freeze in place then, as if he knew he’d gone too far.

Instantly, my mind turned to the girl who held his heart, and I was filled with longing sadness that she had met him before me. But she had, and because of her, I looked away.

Yet his words and the way he said them stayed with me through the wiping away of the blood and through the searing pain as I was washed with alcohol. The memory of them stayed with me as Eran repeatedly caught my eye and looked away before the intensity could rise up between us again. They stayed with me when we returned to the tent without risking another word. And they were with me when I fell asleep that night, knowing that Eran sat only a few feet away, attentive to our distance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: PEACE

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
I
FOUND
E
RAN
sitting at my bedside, staring out the open tent flap. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression relaxed. He seemed to be concentrating on the movement outside. I expected there to be activity, with Hermina and several others having been pulled back to their bodies here before me.

“Good morning,” he said maintaining his posture. His voice was scratchy from lack of sleep. “How was training?”

I chuckled while setting my feet on the ground. “Good. We worked hard.”

He nodded, seemingly relieved to hear it.

“You didn’t sleep did you?”

“Some,” he said in an effort to brush the question aside.

I grimaced, nonetheless.

“Magdalene, let me ask you a question,” Eran said, still not having looked my way. “Last night, when Seti attacked, what happened?”

It sounded like a trick question.

“He died,” I said, which caused Eran to finally look at me. He was smiling at my answer.

Restraining his laughter, he said, “Yes, he did, but I’m referring to before that point. What happened when the others in the camp knew he was here?”

“They rushed to help.”

“Rushed,” he repeated slowly. “Rushed where?”

I shrugged. “Everywhere.”

“That’s right,” he replied, somberly. “They were chaotic. They didn’t know where to go or what to do.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

“Why?” I asked, suspiciously. That argument supported my reasoning for them to leave, which was exactly opposite to Eran’s objective.

“I don’t think they are ready.”

“For an attack?”

He nodded.

“Eran,” I said, “are you suggesting they train here too?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“And why are you bringing this up to me?” I wondered if he’d forgotten that I still wanted them to leave.

Boldly, he said, “Because I need your help in convincing them.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Eran, there’s only one thing I want to convince them of and it doesn’t involve staying here.”

“But they are staying here, Magdalene, and if they don’t prepare for a larger attack they will be killed.”

His blunt declaration jarred me.

Without me having to confirm it, he remarked, “I know you see my point, Magdalene. We both want them to live. Let’s help them do that the best way we can.”

Since he was being direct, I figured I should be too. “You’re trying to convince me to make them stay and fight before I can convince them to leave.”

“And who,” he said, swiveling his head toward me again, “do you think will be more successful?”

As much as it pained me, invoking a sharpness that ran the length of my stomach, I knew what he said was true. They were going to remain and they would be annihilated if they weren’t ready.

“I’ll help,” I whispered.

He evaluated me before responding. “I know how hard that was for you.”

“It’ll be harder for me if they die. What do you want me to do?”

He seemed to appreciate my appraisal of the situation before launching into questions about each messenger’s strengths and weaknesses. As I answered them, I got the sense he was assessing their skills based on my analysis of what I had seen of them during practice. When we were done, he sat staring out the tent’s entrance for several long minutes. Then he lifted his head and reviewed his plan with me. When he did, I was left in awe. In a matter of minutes, he had defined our greatest weaknesses around camp and placed messengers with their guardians at the locations they would be most effective and safest given their distinctive traits.

When he was finished, he asked, “What do you think?”

I jerked my head back and teased, “You mean the conceited, obstinate warrior is asking for my opinion?”

“And regretting it…,” he growled before grinning.

“I think it sounds effective.”

He seemed to genuinely appreciate the compliment and then prepared to stand, but I stopped him.

“Eran? Thank you,” I said, “for asking.”

He remained motionless, and I got the impression he was wavering between his reactions. In the end, he responded in a way that left no doubt to his sincerity. “I value your opinion, Magdalene. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever valued anyone else’s more.”

This time, there was no inhibition as there had been the night before. Only I seemed struck by his honesty.

“That…That’s good…”

“It is,” he said. “A guardian
should
trust their messenger.”

As my mouth fell open in offense, his signature smirk sprang up. He was playing with me, I knew, but it was no less insulting. Knowing it, he strode wide steps toward the front of the tent.

“I’ll see you outside,” he said, amused.

I recovered quickly from his teasing, put on my boots, and picked up my weapon. By the time I left the tent, Eran was gathering everyone into a circle. Again, there were new faces in the crowd, telling me that I had effectively lost my battle to convince them all to scatter. A few of the messengers acknowledged me with a smile or a tip of their head as Eran began handing out instructions.

“We will be assigning stations for each messenger and guardian pair. You will be entirely responsible for your station, making certain that it is stocked and ready for an assault at any given time. Hoffstedler and I have already discussed in which station each of us would be best suited. He will be giving you those responsibilities now.”

Hoffstedler stepped forward and began calling names. As each pair moved forward, the crowd slowly dispersed, heading off to their given post. Eventually, only Hoffstedler, his guardian, Eran and me remained.

“Two are missing,” Hoffstedler announced. “Bailey and Claudius.”

Eran surveyed the movement of those nearby. “I must have missed them. Let them know when you see them that they will handle cooking duties, at least five hot pots at all times.”

“I will,” Hoffstedler said and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called out. I hadn’t been given my responsibility.

“Thank you, Hoffstedler,” Eran said dismissing him. “I’ll take it from here.”

Hoffstedler tipped his head and he and his guardian left to prepare the triage area.