Blood of the Guardian
Author: Kristal Shaff
Date: 2016-07-27 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: The evil king, dethroned. The undead, released. And the dark, oppressive Nass are no more. No one thought it was possible—not even those with Shay abilities—yet Nolan Trividar defeated the king and confined him to the depths of Faylinn. The kingdom is now ruled by a virtuous king, but not everyone is happy with the new regime. Unrest in the army is rampant, even as foreign threats press at their borders. Nolan travels the kingdom, striving to spread the light of Brim to those who have lived in ignorance for so long, but his mission is cut short when the Talasian feet lands on their shore. Now,

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Bonus

Map

Shay Symbols

Dedication

Prelude

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Postlude

Acknowledgements:

Author Info

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales, is purely coincidental

Copyright © 2016, Kristal Shaff

Illustration © 2016, Anne Drury

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Kristal L. Shaff. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any in form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from Kristal L. Shaff, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Edited By: Courtney Koschel

Cover illustrated by: Anne Drury

Typography by: Liesl Mensinger

Cover Copyright © 2016 Kristal L. Shaff

First Edition, July 2016

Bonus Content: Free ebook

Visit www.kristalshaff.com for a free fantasy
ebook, THE PARDON STONE

Also, learn more about the Shay powers and keep
up to date on other books in this series,
as well as Kristal’s other works.

To my husband, Peter, who put up
with me in the ups and downs of my
writing adventure over the many years.

I love you.

Prelude

A RAT SKITTERED ACROSS THE FLOOR and disappeared down the hall. It was one of the few living things in the dungeon, amongst the filth and the roaches and the occasional idiot guard. Alcandor shifted on his pathetic excuse for a bed, so unlike the luxuries he once knew. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the putrid odors of his dungeon home.

At one time, he could have smelled or listened outside of this wretched place with his Perception, but now he could only hear the vermin and the occasional movements of the guards. Once, he could have torn open these simple iron bars with his Strength or used his Empathy to persuade the soldiers to let him go.

Now, he could only sit and do nothing.

For over five hundred years, he had ruled them all. Then that boy reduced him back to the state where Brim had brought him, before he had become king. He was stuck, once again, in the body of a simple man … a Shay-less man. But he’d found a way past Brim’s isolation that first time. He had done it despite Brim’s punishment, and he’d blissfully destroyed Brim’s favorite creation in the process.

He would kill man again.

Alcandor sneered, his frustration building at being trapped, like one of these infested rats. If he could reach the guard—and claim his dagger—he could stick it into the man’s throat, drain his power, and start his own life all over again.

The guard snorted and resituated. Ignorant, stupid man.

Alcandor released a long sigh. Even without his Shay powers, he was proficient in the fine art of persuasion. He would wait for the right moment. When they least expected it, he would escape. Then, after a kill or two, his reign could begin again. It might take some time, but it would happen. He could be patient. Immortality gave him all the time in the world.

Chapter One

A MULTITUDE OF BLANK STARES surrounded Nolan Trividar, as though he’d spent the last ten minutes speaking in a foreign language. A man scratched his chin. Another picked his teeth. And a few whispered to each other, staring at Nolan as if he were insane.

Nolan sighed. Sometimes people were just plain dumb.

Pressing his thumbs to his temples, he looked at the lights of Brim illuminating the ground of the emptied storage building. Piles of fishing nets and rusted spears leaned against the wall. Earlier that morning, Nolan had climbed this rickety building and secured the six stones into holes cut into the ceiling. Now, with the sun at its peak, beams of light shone through the stones, brilliantly refracting the six symbols of Brim in spectrum hues on the dirt-caked floor.

“Perhaps if you told them again, Master Nolan,” Greer suggested. The Guardian, who had taken the form of an old man, smiled at him encouragingly. His eyes flicked to the ceiling, and Nolan followed his gaze. A dark, cloud-like mist darted back and forth. It dove into the crowd and circled around a man’s unknowing head. Nolan could feel the result of the Nass’s taunt; the man’s apprehension and fear increased, causing a similar mist to slither out of the man and join the other Nass drifting about the ceiling.

Nolan frowned. This wasn’t going so well.

“I know you can all feel it,” Nolan continued. “Surely the stones call. Step into the light and bring forth your Shay power. It’s hiding inside you. Just step into the light and let it come free!”

More blank stares followed. Nolan surged his Empathy Shay and didn’t feel indifference like he had thought; fear mounted from them in a swelling wave. Why were they afraid? Was it him? He was … different, of course. After becoming a half-Guardian, he was taller and broader than any normal man. And he wielded all six powers, which, he supposed, might intimidate them a bit. Or maybe change scared them. The people of Adamah didn’t like to stray from their monotony, even if for the better. The stubborn townspeople didn’t know what was best for them, even when Nolan stuck it in front of their ignorant faces.

A dark mist darted by Nolan and zipped off again, as if teasing him. Nolan ground his teeth. The Nass weren’t helping much either.

“Who sent you?” a voice called from the crowd.

A woman stepped forward, her hair braided in numerous locks. Huge, circular earrings hung from her lobes, and bangles covering her wrists chimed softly with each swing of her slender arms. Her tight-fitting shirt dipped low, displaying far too much to leave anything to the imagination. And her skirt consisted of strips of cloth, revealing olive-toned legs with every step. She was a gypsy—a Talasian outcast. But her complexion seemed fairer than the typical gypsy. Her black hair and dark eyes complemented her skin and instantly drew every man’s eyes.

It took Nolan a moment to realize he’d been gawking as well.

He cleared his throat. “King Emery Cadogan sent me.”

The woman threw her head back and laughed. “Ah! So the new king sent you? Why should we trust a man who took the crown by force? Why should we follow such a king, a traitor before he took the throne? And why should we trust you?” Her eyes searched him, starting at his face and traveling down the length of him. A smirk formed on her lips. “We don’t even know what you are.”

Nolan’s face warmed, but he shoved the emotions away.

Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the crowd. Several more Nass joined the mass of hovering and twisting mists. Though these people could not see the Nass, Nolan could.

“And we know nothing of this magic.” She motioned toward the colored symbols as their light flickered with a passing cloud. “If we step into this light like you say, it might strike us all dead!”

The complaining of the crowd increased at her words, and a new supply of Nass filled the room.

“I can take her down,” a voice whispered in Nolan’s ear. “No one would even see me drag her gypsy arse outta here.”

Nolan turned to the hazel eyes of Lieutenant Kat Connelly, one of the Speed Rol’dan who had come with Nolan to spread the light of Brim.

Kat winked and grinned. “Believe me. It’d be my pleasure.”

Nolan considered her offer; however, the gypsy seeming to magically disappear would reinforce their ridiculous fears. “No,” he replied. “There has to be another way.” I need to convince them … somehow.

“Just listen!” Nolan pleaded. “There is no magic! If one of you would step into the light, you’d all see the truth.”

However, instead of listening, the crowd’s complaints only increased. They had grown so loud they couldn’t hear him at all. He scowled. The people of this town weren’t the smartest. But even so, how could they listen to that wench? The gypsy’s smug grin made his fists clench. His blood boiled in his veins.

“Master Nolan,” Greer said, “please calm yourself before you do something rash.”

Nolan didn’t care anymore. The light of Brim began to build inside of him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the specific Shay power he would need. He had done it to Alec once, had frozen him in the throne room back in Faylinn. Surely a handful of simple townsfolk would be easy compared to Alec’s hard head.

“Master Nolan, please,” Greer said.

Nolan ignored him. These people would listen to him, whether they liked it or not. He surged his Shay of Empathy, held his palms toward the crowd, and let the power burst forth.

Instantly, the room went mute. Every man, woman, and child—including his friends—froze like statues.

Nolan walked through the crowd, watching their motionless faces: some scowled with anger; others’ eyes were wide with fear. Even though they couldn’t move, they were aware of him.

“I’m sorry,” Nolan spoke, his arms shaking slightly at his exertion of power. “I’ll let you all go once I’ve had my say. It’s important you listen.” He pointed at the frozen gypsy, the sneer still embedded on her face. “She’s wrong. What you see here is no magic; it’s a gift. A gift given to us by Brim, the god of light, the creator of the powers we hold.

“After Alcandor became king, the stones were lost, and only those with the strongest abilities were able to come into their Shay powers. That is why King Alcandor formed his army, so he could manipulate those with power and keep them under his control. And he also concealed a very important truth: Everyone in the land, not just his soldiers, are gifted with Shay powers.”

Their frozen silence followed. Nolan surged his Empathy and searched them, hoping they understood. He sighed, shoulders sagging, when he only felt fear and confusion.

Of course they were afraid. I suppose if someone petrified me, I might be a little scared too. Once they were calm, they’d be more ready to listen.

Several more Nass tore out of the frozen bodies.

Nolan glared at the mists. The Nass only heightened their fears. Even if he soothed them with his Empathy, the Nass would drag them down again. He needed to get rid of these nightforsaken things. Nass first. Soothing after.

He had done it before.

He could do it again.

Nolan summoned the light of Brim, letting it build and gain strength. Last time, the act of cleansing the Nass had almost killed him. But this was nothing like before; it was only a small room, not a battlefield. With a small burst of Brim’s light, he could get rid of them and break through their thick heads with the truth.

He closed his eyes, feeling the light build. He let his focus slip and could hear commotion as people were released from his hold.

Someone grabbed his arm. “Nolan! What are you doing?”

Nolan shrugged off the hand and focused on his inner light. It was almost ready.

A woman screamed as the light spilled from Nolan, illuminating the space around him. In successive, gushing waves, the power of Brim exploded.

Chapter Two

MUTED LAUGHED AND FOUL LANGUAGE slowly drifted into Nolan’s conscious thoughts. He opened his eyes and slammed them closed as the all-too-familiar throbbing pulsed through his head. The last thing Nolan remembered was the room full of people, their stubbornness as they ignored him, their fear, and the Nass filling the room. Then he remembered the power of Brim exploding, and then he remembered nothing at all.

“He’s awake!” a woman said.

“Praise Brim!” someone else said. “Now I can kill him.”

In the distance, muffled bar music droned on—a flute and drum, maybe—followed by another round of bawdy laughter. Nolan blinked as his vision cleared.

He lay in a simple room with chipped, red paint covering rough walls. The lumpy bed made his body ache from a position he had probably held too long. Thin blankets hardly covered him they were so threadbare. A desk, with a mismatched chair, sat against the wall. Nolan’s leather bag dangled limp and empty over the chair.

Nolan scanned his surroundings and found three figures watching nearby. He swung his legs off the bed and stood. As soon as his feet hit the floorboards, his knees buckled, and his vision swirled. He braced for impact.

An arm appeared under his.

“Crows, Nolan. You weigh a ton!” An angry red scar ran down Alec Deverell’s face and puckered through his pursed lips.

Nolan shook his head as he fought unconsciousness.

“Come on, Nolan,” Alec said. “Either stand on your own or get back in bed. Otherwise, I’ll drop your naked arse right here on the floor.”

The fog cleared abruptly, enough for him to see both Greer and Kat standing on the far side of the room. Kat’s eyes met his, and her face flushed. Nolan fell back into bed under the safety of the covers to regain any smidgen of modesty he might have left.

His muscles shook, and his breath came in pathetic gasps. His heart pounded along with the drum still playing somewhere below. Instead of an all-powerful half-Guardian, he resembled a pathetic, feeble old man. A naked one at that.

“Forgive us for your current state of attire,” Greer said. “The cleansing destroyed your clothes. We’ve been unable to find a replacement. You are not a common size among men. And the tailors in town are a bit … uncooperative.”

“Cleansing?” Nolan said. His voice sounded rough as gravel.

“Yes, Master Nolan. The cleansing of the Nass.”

Vague memories of screaming and horrid fear emanating from the people passed through Nolan’s mind. Then the light of Brim exploded, ripping the clothes from his body and plowing through everything in its path. The warehouse probably hadn’t stood a chance.

“You destroyed it,” Greer answered, as if he had read his thoughts.

“And the people?” Nolan asked.

“They survived. I healed the injured in time.”

Nolan released a breath. At least he hadn’t killed anyone. He had always been good at control. He’d hid his power of Accuracy for years—at least when he was normal. But this time, even Greer’s prodding had done nothing to stop him from his impulsiveness. Impulsive? Him? Maybe the Nass had gotten into his head as well.

“How long have I been like this?” Nolan asked.

“Two weeks,” Kat answered.

“Two weeks?” When he’d released Brim’s light before, he’d only stayed unconscious five days. What happened?

Nolan adjusted his position and something hard rolled against his arm. He closed his hand around a smooth stone, and the Shay of Accuracy fluttered inside him. It was one of the Stones of Light.

“We kept them next to you to keep you alive,” Greer said.

“Why bother?” Alec huffed. “He’ll only kill himself next time.”

Alec stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, a scowl drawn on his scarred face. His blond curls were messier than usual, as if he hadn’t combed them in a day or two. Though his expression showed anger, concern leaked from Alec’s emotions.

What was Alec doing here, anyway? He hadn’t come along with them. He had opted to stay behind. But here he stood in all his angst-filled glory. And apparently, his mood hadn’t improved any since they’d left him at the castle in Faylinn.

“Alec?” Nolan asked.

Frustration oozed from Alec. “Emery wants you back in Faylinn.”

“Why? Is everything okay?”

Alec leveled his gaze at Nolan. “Think he’d send me if everything was fine? The soldiers are on the verge of mutiny, and there’s talk of an invasion—”

“Invasion?”

“From Talasi,” Greer added. “I have heard the murmurings here as well. Fishermen spotted Talasian boats in the distance, and there is talk of them coming in this direction. People suspect they might arrive within the next day or so.”

Why would Talasian boats come here? Most Talasians kept their distance from Adamah; they were rarely welcomed with open arms. For the most part, their two races weren’t fond of each other. But that wasn’t grounds for them to invade. Nolan couldn’t help but wonder if there was another reason for their appearance.

Alec cleared his throat. “Nolan, Emery wants you back right away.”

“Why would Emery want me running off now, especially if Talasians are headed our way?”

Alec shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he fidgeted with the pommel of his sword. Nolan could feel impatience lacing Alec’s emotions, as well as concern for someone else.

Nolan propped himself up. “Is Emery okay?”

“If you don’t count his stress, yes, he’s fine.”

“What about Kael?” Nolan pressed further.

By Alec’s loud snort and frown, Nolan knew Kael was doing fine.

“Megan?”

Alec glanced over his shoulder at Kat and Greer.

“Greer, Kat … Can you give us a second?” Nolan asked.

Kat scowled and opened her mouth to protest.

“Of course, Master Nolan,” Greer interrupted, then he ushered the annoyed Kat from the room.

Alec waited until the door closed. He bit his lip. “Megan’s having nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Nolan relaxed, his tension leaving in a rush. He’d imagined her lying in bed, dying.

“You don’t understand,” Alec said. “She eats nothing. She’s pale. She can barely keep water down.”

“Because of dreams?”

“Aye,” Alec answered. “And it’s driving Emery mad. He’s already dealing with those idiot Rol’dan soldiers and trying to salvage everything Alcandor destroyed. Not to mention repairs on the castle, and then there are the rumors of the Talasia—”

“All right, all right,” Nolan said, holding up his hand. “I get what you’re saying. And Megan’s illness is pushing him over the edge?”

“He can’t concentrate on anything else.”

“So she’s not eating?”

Alec paused. “She eats a little in the evening, then she goes to sleep, and the dreams make her sick all over again.”

“Has anyone checked her food? Is she being poisoned?”

“Emery has,” Alec said. “He can’t find anything.”

Nolan ran a hand over his smooth chin. First, he’d need to get out of bed. Holding out his hand, it shook in front of his face. Growling, he swung his legs over the edge, making an effort to stand.

The room spun, and Alec appeared next to him, cursing as he slowed Nolan’s fall.

“Stop it! You’re too big to catch.” Alec scowled.

They had been close, like brothers, before Nolan had traded his life for General Trividar, his real brother. And Nolan had frozen Alec in place, forcing him to watch him kill himself.

But Nolan had come back to life, becoming this half-Guardian atrocity. Since then, they rarely talked. They didn’t spar daily like they had before. Alec kept his distance; he still hadn’t forgiven him.

Alec helped him sit again, and a spark of his old determination pulsed from him. Nolan met his brown eyes, and Alec crammed the budding emotions behind his scarred mask. He released Nolan’s arm and stepped away.

“Well, you’re not going to be a lot of help like that,” Alec snapped.

Nolan’s legs trembled. “I need the stones’ light. It helped last time.”

“This town doesn’t have a temple,” Alec said, then he grumbled under his breath about it being a “backward fishing village.”

Nolan eyed him.

Alec cleared his throat. “Not that backward fishing villages are bad or anything.”

Nolan smirked and placed his large palm over one of the stones next to him in the bed. His Shay of Strength pulsed gently inside him. “Well, I’ll just have to use the warehouse again.”

“You mean the one you destroyed?”

Nolan flinched. “Um, yeah. Guess I’ll have to find somewhere else. Another warehouse? A boat storage building?”

“Don’t think they’ll be too keen,” Alec said, his expression smug. “They talk about you downstairs.”

“Good things?”

Alec snorted in reply.

Nolan supposed not. Pressing against the bridge of his nose, he stretched his exhausted brain. He supposed he could control their minds, convince them to let him use another building or store. He’d rather not if he didn’t have to.

“We’ll come up with something,” he said. “I’ll have a look around, see what might work.”

“And how do you suppose you’ll get there? You can’t even stand.”

Nolan smiled. “You can carry me.”

Alec forced a laugh. “Sure. If I had Strength.”

Nolan pointed to the chair. “Give me my bag.”

Alec passed him the leather pouch, and Nolan rummaged through the dingy bedding. After retrieving the stones and filling the bag, he slung it over his shoulder and stood. The power from the stones pulsed gently against his side, giving him a smidgen of strength. The room didn’t tilt and sway as much as before. It wasn’t perfect, but it did help a little.

Alec held out his arms, as if ready to catch him again. After a few heartbeats, he lowered them, but he stared, as if waiting for Nolan to fall on his face.

“That’s better,” Alec said, his emotions amused. “Ready to go, are you?”

Nolan shrugged. “I’ll feel a lot better once I’ve stood under the stones’ light.”

“You might attract attention wearing only a bag.”

Nolan glanced down and cringed. He scanned the room, yanked the thin sheet from the bed, and tied it around his waist.

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, suppressing a grin. “Nice. You’ll make quite an entrance.” He turned to the window, his smile slipping.

Nolan ignored a wave of dizziness and staggered toward the window. The streets flowed with people spilling from every shop. They were in the red district of town, each building coated with peeling red paint. Down the road, the buildings transitioned from red to green.

Renfrew wasn’t a big town, but it seemed like every person was out on the streets. A crowd pushed toward the docks while a few shoved in the opposite direction, as if trying to escape. Frequently, a deformed, dark Nass would shoot from someone and zip into the cloudy sky.

Nolan inhaled and released a long breath. Why did he bother cleaning up the abominable creatures, anyway? From the moment he got rid of one group of mists, more jumped up to take their places.

Nolan scanned the curious progression winding toward the docks. The midday sun reflected on the sea in the distance. Nolan gripped the windowsill, mostly to keep standing. Then he caught sight of the boats and sucked in a small breath. Cutting the distance through the gentle waves, Talasian ships rowed closer.

Chapter Three

THE CROWDED PUB BELOW HUMMED with energy. Mugs clattered. Laughter swelled. The flute and drum sounded louder and fouler than they did from upstairs. They weren’t very good. Megan and her brother, Flann, were outstanding musicians. These men … well, not so much. But even so, they looked like they were enjoying themselves. Or they’d drank enough that they didn’t notice how bad they were.

Alec grunted as he supported Nolan’s weight. As soon as the first person caught sight of them descending the stairs, conversations abruptly stopped. Emotions surged with a combination of awe and fear. Nass emerged, adding a putrid layer to the ceiling, which probably seemed like pipe and fireplace smoke to all the normal people here.

“Crows, Nolan,” Alec said. “You sure know how to ruin a good time.”

Nolan forced a smile. He hated attention, especially from a whole room. He trembled from his weakness, and the stares made his hands slimy with moisture. A warm flush rose up his neck.

A group of gypsies sat away from the others in a far corner. Nolan paused, nearly making Alec stumble. The beautiful gypsy girl who had caused so much trouble, the one who had angered the crowd, locked eyes with him. What in Brim’s light was she doing here?

“Nolan?” Alec grunted. “Any day now.”

Nolan pushed on Alec’s shoulder more than he needed and was rewarded with a satisfying grunt from his friend.

“I can drop you,” Alec threatened.

Nolan chuckled. He could, but he wouldn’t.

Kat and Greer waited at the bar. As soon as Greer noticed Nolan and Alec descending, he jumped from his stool and met them halfway up the stairs. He slid under Nolan’s other side, draping Nolan’s arm over his shoulders. To those around them, Greer appeared as a frail, old man. But in truth, Nolan’s weight meant nothing to him.

Alec sighed in relief but still pretended to help Greer support Nolan’s weight.

“Are you certain you should be up so soon, Master Nolan?” Greer asked.

“No, but I should see to those ships.”

“Ah, yes. The ships. News just reached us,” Greer said. “However, wouldn’t that be the responsibility of the Duke of Renfrew?”

Nolan had met the duke when he first arrived in Renfrew. “Is he sober enough to do anything?”

“Not likely,” Greer said with a scowl.

“Well, at least we can represent the king.”

Greer helped Nolan the rest of the way down the stairs and brought him to the stool next to Kat. Nolan collapsed in the seat, nearly losing the blanket around his waist. He refastened the knot, not wanting another reason to attract attention.

Kat quickly looked from him and fixed on the rows of bottles behind the bar.

“You have the stones?” Greer asked.

“I’ve got them.” The stones’ invisible energy radiated from the bag.

“I suggest we get you into the light’s influence as soon as possible,” Greer said.

“But the warehouse … ”

“I’ll find something else.” Greer touched his arm reassuringly. “It might take a few moments. Perhaps we should take you back upstairs?”

“Darkness no! I’ve been in bed long enough. I’ll wait right here.” The stares around Nolan intensified.

Greer bowed. “I could use Master Alec’s assistance.”

“Fine,” Nolan snapped. “Just hurry up.” He hesitated before adding, “Please.” His head still throbbed, and the staring pub-goers were making him cross.

Alec slipped the bag from Nolan’s shoulder, and Nolan felt the stones’ presence leave him instantly. His body wilted, the stool feeling as if it couldn’t support him. He groaned, wondering if he should have waited in bed.

Kat pushed him a drink but didn’t look at him as she did.

Nolan lifted the glass, and it shook in his hand. He set it back down and ran a hand over his chin. “Have you seen the ships yet?”

“We saw them at a distance,” she said, her eyes still set forward. “Don’t know which news has been more exciting here in Renfrew: the incoming ships or having you tucked away in this inn. Don’t think the innkeeper has minded too much. He’s gained business.”

She motioned toward the crowded pub. The people watched them but pretended to do other things. One group played a card game, yet not one had laid down a card. Another group held empty mugs. And the gypsies huddled in conversation, all except for that woman. She blatantly stared. The corners of her mouth curled when their eyes met.

Kat turned to him finally, and her eyes dropped, inspecting him. “We need to work on getting you something else to wear.”

“Why?” Nolan asked. “You don’t like my new outfit?”

She grinned. “That’s the problem, Lord Emissary. I like it too well.”

Heat rose to his face and his neck—and who knows where else—for the whole room to see. He picked up his drink, ignored the shaking of his hands, and downed the entire glass in a few gulps.

Kat choked back a snicker by sipping from her mug.

He slumped on his stool, glowering. He’d prompted her, though. He should’ve known better than to ask.

Greer and Alec entered, and the faint scraping of mugs on tables halted as well as the whispers present a moment ago. Without speaking, Greer and Alec positioned themselves on either side of Nolan and helped him rise. Before they stepped foot out the door, conversations swelled.

A steady stream of people filed past them in the streets. Most didn’t seem to notice. Those who did let out a faint gasp and swung wide to avoid them.

They continued through the town until they reached the green district. Nolan wheezed, his shoulders sagging. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek even though a sea breeze brushed his face. His arms shook, and he truly needed his friends in order to stand.

Ahead on the road, townspeople gathered at the docks, lingering around the boats and shops and spilling out toward the shore. A steady stream of Nass materialized, adding to a gathering, twisting cloud above their heads. It made the sky overcast to those who couldn’t see their true forms. Only Greer and Nolan knew the truth, unfortunately. Nolan caught Greer watching the creatures, a look of disgust on his face.

In the harbor, a small Talasian ship bobbed in the gentle waves.

As they neared the shoreline, Nolan paused. “They’re almost here. Should we wait?”

“Gain strength first, and then we can meet them when they arrive,” Greer suggested.

Nolan nodded. He couldn’t do anything if he greeted them with the strength of a corpse.

They turned before the main mass of bodies. After another left, they stopped in front of a shipbuilder’s shop. Standing taller and longer than the other buildings, it seemed high enough for the light of Brim to shine easily on the floor.

Alec shouldered the door open, and a stout man flinched as they entered. He wore simple clothing, brown breeches and a green tunic, and he had the darkened skin of a seaman. The building had been emptied of boats, but fishing spears were propped near the door. A pile of nets rested in a corner, as well as several others stretched out, hanging on the walls. Both rough and smooth-cut lumber was stacked nearby, and an odor of fish mingled with the scent of wood, saltwater, and hay.

Greer and Alec released Nolan. He staggered, his head swimming.

Greer threw a heavy money pouch at the man. “Go.”

The man nodded, fear emanating from him, as he backed out the door.

The six stones of Brim were already in position in the ceiling, one on top of another, so the lights shone as one single white light on the dirt ground. Alec must’ve set them up already.

Nolan took a step, and his knees buckled. Alec appeared under his arm, supporting him.

“Thanks,” Nolan said, meeting his eye.

One corner of Alec’s mouth twitched. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“Of course not,” Nolan said with a grin.

Like a toddler learning to walk, Nolan allowed Alec to lead him to the light. As soon as the first rays brushed his skin, his head jerked back, his whole body tensed, and the power and strength of Brim filled him.

Chapter Four

THE TALASIAN SHIPS were not what Nolan had expected. He had anticipated something primitive; everyone regarded the Talasians as a savage, backward nation. Nolan summoned his Shay of Perception, and the boat came into closer view. Intricate carvings adorned the grand vessels. A shade of blue he’d never seen tinted the wood. He didn’t know for certain if they’d been painted—it looked lighter than that. It could’ve been a trick of the eye as it reflected the water, but Nolan had been around enough boats to know differently. They were strong-looking boats, even compared to Adamaian standards. These so-called savages had not only solid ships, but creative floating masterpieces.

A handful of dark-skinned Talasians lowered a small boat from the side of the ship. A man, adorned in nothing but a loincloth, stood at the bow as it touched into the waves. The man didn’t jostle, nor lose his balance. Like a statue set at the head. He adjusted his stance to the boat’s movement with near perfection. It was impressive, to say the least.

From Nolan’s short association with Maska, the one Talasian man he knew, it didn’t surprise him. Maska could throw a boulder as gently as tossing a feather pillow.

Duke Ragnall’s wife—another Talasian—balanced trays while walking as if gliding on air. Something in the very nature of the Talasian people showed cat-like agility.

Nolan studied the Talasian warrior, once again using his Perception. Not only was his complexion darker than the people of Adamah, but tattoos covered his face and torso. Patterns swirled across his chest. Contoured lines covered most of his face. It looked as if he wore a tunic, the dark symbols adorned his body so thickly. The other warriors on the boat had tattoos, but none to this extent.

“I believe they signify rank,” Greer said, as if answering Nolan’s mind.

Nolan nodded and continued his examination. If what Greer suspected was true, this man was most likely a captain or officer. Someone important.

Discontent swelled from those standing on the shore. A small brigade of Nass shot out and circled their heads. Nolan sighed. His cleansing did little good, especially when the hotheaded idiots of this town had nothing better to do than create more.

Inhaling, he closed his eyes and summoned his Empathy. He eased out a breath as he opened his eyes. Holding his hands open toward the crowd, he pushed his Empathy, soothing them.

The grumbling subsided, and the continual trail of Nass dwindled. The remaining dark mists darted off, disappearing into the blue sky and forming small clouds. As he turned his head, he found Alec scowling at him.

“What?” Nolan asked.

“So why didn’t you do that last time?”

“Last time?”

“A couple weeks ago. Why didn’t you calm them in the warehouse instead of freezing everyone and doing your light-exploding thing?”

Nolan opened his mouth, then closed it. Why hadn’t he calmed them? He supposed it was because, at that moment, he hadn’t been calm.

“So why?” Alec asked again.

Nolan pulled his eyes from the Nass in the sky, back to Alec’s scowling face.

“It’s horrible not to have control over your body. Oh, but wait. You haven’t experienced that, have you?”

Nolan shrugged, trying to feign indifference. “They wouldn’t shut up.”

Alec gawked. “You did it so they wouldn’t talk?”

“I was trying to tell them something important, and they wouldn’t let me. Besides, it’s not like I really froze them. It’s all mind control, you know. There’s no real, physical hold; I tell their minds they can’t move, and then they can’t.”

“Tell their minds they can’t talk,” Alec said. “Why freeze them?”

“Hmm,” Nolan said, rubbing his chin. “Interesting idea.”

“But I suppose nearly killing yourself and destroying several buildings in the process was more spectacular than just soothing them and keeping them from talking.” Alec crossed his arms over his chest. “Or maybe you like walking around without clothes.”

Kat coughed and covered her mouth.

Nolan turned toward Alec. Did he really want to argue? Nolan’s frown faded when he noticed a smile on the corner of Alec’s lips. It was good to see hints of the old Alec returning. Nolan grinned. “A blanket is far less constricting than clothes.”

Greer pointed at the small boat as it closed the distance to the dock. “Come. I believe it would be best if we met them.”

Walking through the crowd was easy enough; anyone who saw Nolan shoved others aside to get out of his way. Nolan and his friends emerged at the front of the crowd just as the boat bumped against the dock. The leader jumped onto the wooden platform before the boat stopped moving.

A trio of warriors followed, their hands at their sides, their dark eyes scanning the crowd. The leader’s gaze fell on Nolan, traveled down his form, and then lingered at the blanket wrapped around his waist. His examination flicked to the townspeople, obviously comparing their wardrobes, before inspecting Nolan again.

Nolan shifted his feet, tamping down a flush warming his face.

The warrior’s eyes came back up, meeting Nolan’s. His dark brows twitched, hardly enough to notice. Curiosity, wonderment, admiration, and a touch of fear leaked from his stony resolve. The warrior’s knot of feeling stayed tightly concealed behind his emotionless, tattooed mask.

The Talasian leader bowed ever so slightly and uttered a phrase Nolan couldn’t understand.

Nolan turned to Greer, who gave a subtle shake of his head. Apparently, the Guardian didn’t speak Talasian either.

The leader spoke again, but it sounded more like a jumble of mutterings, spoken with a lot of k and t utterances. Frustration and anger spiked through the leader’s emotions, though the man’s face still maintained its stoic appearance.

“He wants to speak to whoever is in charge,” a voice said from behind.

All heads turned to the gypsy girl. She wound her way through the crowd toward them, slowing a few steps as she passed Nolan. Her eyes traveled down and back up to examine him. She then smiled, winked, and continued on until she came face to face with the leader.

Greer leaned toward Nolan. “She wants you.”

Nolan started. “What did you say?”

Greer frowned. “Master Nolan. Her desires transcend what you might expect. She wants you. But in what way, I cannot tell.”

“In what way?” What other way is there?

“I will explain later,” Greer said. “For now, we have more pressing matters.”

Nolan was about to insist he tell him, but the gypsy girl and the Talasian leader began speaking to each other in the strange Talasian language. Occasionally, they would glance in his direction; the leader made a wide gesture as he spoke.

The gypsy turned to Nolan. “He wants to know what you are.”

Nolan hesitated. He’d like to know that, too. He cleared his throat and gave the only answer he could. “I am an Emissary to Brim, the god of light, as well as a servant and friend to the king of this land. In the name of King Emery Cadogan, I welcome you and ask why you have come.”

The gypsy scowled and raised a brow.

“Tell him,” Nolan said.

She snorted and relayed the message, though by her shortened translation, Nolan doubted she’d said the whole thing.

“He wishes to speak to our king. Word has reached him that Alcandor was overthrown. The Talasians want peace between our two lands to stay in place, and he wants to offer King Cadogan something to assure the union.

“They stopped here for supplies and will continue by ship along our coastline until they reach Faylinn.”

Kat leaned in toward Nolan. “Can I make a suggestion, Lord Emissary?”

Nolan nodded, pretending he didn’t hear her “Lord” title again.

“Maybe we should go with them, to make sure they’re doing what they say.”

“We can’t,” Alec cut in. “Emery needs Nolan now. He wanted him back a week ago. If Nolan gets on that boat, it will take him weeks to reach Faylinn. By Speed, we can be there this afternoon.”

Nolan looked at the savage, then back to Alec’s pleading face. With all his abilities, Nolan couldn’t be in two places at once. These people couldn’t have free rein, even if it was only by sea. They would need to be watched over. However, Emery needed him.

“When will they be leaving?” Nolan asked the gypsy.

“At first light tomorrow,” she said.

“We’ll make sure they get whatever supplies they need.” Nolan clenched his fist, knowing what he said next wouldn’t go over well. He motioned toward Greer and Alec. “Tell him my two friends will join them on the last leg of their journey.”

Alec opened his mouth to object.

Nolan surged a smidgen of Empathy, waved his hand as if he were swatting a bug, and sealed Alec’s mouth.

Alec grabbed at his throat, giving Nolan a murderous glare.

Nolan leveled his gaze at the gypsy. “And you will accompany them as well.”

“I will not.”

“By the authority of King Emery, I order you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “We are gypsies. We have no king. What we do is our own business. You have no claim to order me anywhere.”

Nolan stepped toward her. “Go on board that ship by yourself, or I’ll tie you up and throw you on it. Your choice.”

She glared at him, her emotions defiant.

“Tell him,” Nolan said.

She paused, then spoke to the leader.

The Talasian studied Greer first, then Alec, affirming she had, at least, told him that much. After she finished speaking, the gypsy turned to Nolan.

“They will leave as the sun peeks over the horizon. Have your men waiting here on the docks. King Kamalin will have boats sent to fetch them.”

“King?” Nolan asked.

One side of the gypsy’s mouth turned upward. “Didn’t I mention that part?”

Nolan eyed the tattooed warrior. So this was the king of the Talasian people. Why would the king take a trip overseas? This meeting had more significance than Nolan had first realized.

King Kamalin turned to the boat. The small grouping of warriors joined him and pushed off the dock. The crowd whispered while several people ran off to tell of the Talasians’ arrival. The gypsy girl glared at Nolan and turned, flinging her dark braids in a large arc. With determined strides, she left the docks and returned to the congested streets of the town.

“Master Nolan,” Greer said. “She is planning to leave immediately and has no intention of following your request.”

“How did you—?”

“I’ll explain more to you shortly,” Greer answered. “But now, we should be more concerned about this girl’s departure.”

“Kat,” Nolan said. “Follow her and use any means necessary to persuade her to come.”

Kat’s smile widened into an evil grin. “Yes, my lord.” The golden-yellow light of her Speed Shay flared in her eyes, and she ran through the crowd, moving faster than any of the villagers could see.

Something struck Nolan’s upper arm. He turned to find Alec, fist balled, ready to punch him a second time.

“Oops, sorry,” Nolan said. As if he were flicking a page of an invisible book, he released Alec from his silent hold.

“Nolan!” Alec said, his voice raspy.

“What? I only took your voice, like you suggested. It worked pretty good, I might—”

Alec punched him again. “What in the Darkness did you do that for? I don’t want to go on that nightforsaken boat with those nightforsaken savages! I’m supposed to return with you to Faylinn.”

Nolan sighed. “I’m sorry, but you can defend yourself if something goes wrong. You’ll be the perfect escort. And with Greer here—”

“Sure. An old man and a fifteen-year-old will really intimidate them.”

“You are the best swordsman in all of Adamah,” Nolan said. “And as you know, there is more to Greer than he seems.”

Alec gritted his teeth. It was hard to argue with logic, even for Alec. He grabbed Nolan’s arm. “And what about the gypsy? Why does she have to come?”

“Can you speak Talasian?”

Objection lingered on the forefront of Alec’s emotions, but he held back, saying nothing, then he finally stomped away.

Greer smiled. “Watch your back, Master Nolan; he is concocting plans of revenge.”

Nolan eyed the Guardian. “What did you mean earlier when you said the gypsy wanted me, but you weren’t sure how?”

“Hmm,” Greer said. “Yes, I have been pondering that one further. She said you would be profitable if she could get hold of you somehow.”

“No, she didn’t.”

One of Greer’s eyebrows rose. “Of course not. She did not speak it out loud.”

Nolan’s mouth dropped open. “You can … read minds?”

Greer blinked slowly. “You can as well.”

“What? Me? No, I can’t.”

“Are you sure?” In silence, Greer headed toward the boathouse where the stones of Brim were still in place.

Nolan followed, twitching his fingers with anxious energy. Surely Greer is wrong. I can’t read minds. Empathy doesn’t work that way.

When they stepped inside the boathouse, the combined lights of Brim still shone on the ground. Only then, when they were alone, did Greer speak.

“I have told you that Guardians do not have Shay powers.”

Nolan nodded. “Yes, but it’s never made much sense. You have the same abilities as me.”

“Not so,” Greer said. “Guardians have similar abilities, but not the same. For instance, my Empathy cannot control anyone like yours can. We both can read emotions, but mine can also—”

“Ah, I see,” Nolan interrupted. “You can read thoughts, not just emotions.”

“Precisely.” Greer motioned toward the cloth wrapped around Nolan’s waist. “Which is why I could not persuade the tailors to create clothes for you. I do not possess the ability to influence them.”

“But Alcandor controlled minds. He’s a Guardian, too.”

“Yes, but Brim removed his Guardian powers. The powers Alcandor possessed came from the people after he stole their Shays.”

“So Alcandor only wielded Shay powers.”

Greer grunted. “I would not speak of it as a fault, Master Nolan. The power of the Shay is much more significant than that of a Guardian.”

More significant? Reading thoughts would be quite handy—it would’ve kept him out of trouble more times than he could count. Then he wondered why Greer hadn’t merely read the Talasian king’s mind, instead of using that nightforsaken gypsy.

“He thinks in Talasian,” Greer answered. “I do not yet speak his language.”

Nolan shook his head, still not agreeing with the whole Shay vs. Guardian power subject. “Are all the abilities different?”

“Yes. Some more than others. For instance: The Healing Shay absorbs one’s injury and pain; a Guardian can heal without taking the injury.”

“Would be nice,” Nolan said.

“It has its faults, Master Nolan.”

“Faults? How can not feeling pain be a fault?”

Greer sighed. “Far too often, humans die before I can reach them. I cannot resurrect.”

Nolan snorted but said nothing. He’d gladly give up absorbing injury. Raising someone from the dead could only be done once … usually. When a Healer resurrected someone, they sacrificed their life.

“Except for you, Master Nolan,” Greer said in response to Nolan’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Nolan said softly, frowning. “Except for me.”

“And our Healing is not as strong as a Shay either,” Greer said. “It takes longer to accomplish the same task. When someone is dying, the speed in which one heals can be most important. Every aspect of a Guardian’s powers is not as effective as a human’s Shay. Brim created us to protect humans, not overtake them. When our powers are matched, such as Guardian strength to the human Shay of Strength, the Shay will always win. Our advantage comes from being multi-powered, where humans only obtain one.” He smiled at Nolan. “At least until now.”

Greer cocked his head, his white glowing eyes examining him. “I thought you had already experimented with your Guardian abilities; you have both Shay and Guardian powers. I had assumed you just chose not to use them.”

“I had no idea.”

Greer placed a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “Search inside yourself. You might find the differences rather interesting. I am certain you will come to the same conclusion: Shay powers are far superior.” Greer’s smile faded, and his eyes clouded over, as if looking at an event far away. “We were easy to destroy when Alcandor turned the humans against us.”

Nolan knew Greer was referring to the history of the Battle of the Demons. Legends told of a time when Alcandor saved the land from a demon attack, when in actuality, it had been Alcandor’s attempt to inflict revenge on the Guardians for being thrown from their ranks.

Nearly all the Guardians had died. Those who survived ran for their lives. A few months ago, the remaining Guardians didn’t even know each other existed. Sanawen and Malik, the other two Guardians, waited for their return in Faylinn.

Greer grunted and pointed at the ceiling, obviously changing the subject. “We cannot leave the stones. I will find Alec to retrieve them and meet you at the inn.”

Chapter Five

NOLAN LAY IN BED, eyes wide open. Two weeks of unconsciousness didn’t help him sleep. He rolled onto his side, and moonlight shone annoyingly through the shards of fabric disguised as a window covering. He squeezed his eyes tighter, but it was no use. Why did it have to be such a bright night?

A roar of laughter boomed from the pub. Nolan inhaled and released an exaggerated sigh. His mind wandered, first to Alec—he missed their friendship. Forcing Alec onto a boat wouldn’t heal the strain between them.

Then he considered Megan and her strange illness. He doubted he could do anything, but at least he’d be there to try.

His thoughts drifted to the earlier conversation with Greer. If he could read minds and not absorb pain and injury when healing, what other things could a Guardian do? And, most importantly, could Nolan tap into those same powers? After all, he had Guardian powers, too. He closed his eyes, focusing on his inner Shays; they pulsed inside him.

Shifting his search, he touched on something else, an energy different than his Shays. It pulsed softly, similar to the warmth that spreads after sipping a strong drink.

Maybe Greer was right. Perhaps the Shays overpowered the Guardian abilities. But now that Nolan focused on them, they were obvious, like a huge, glaring blemish on your face. The Guardian part felt wrong somehow.

Inhuman.

Nolan shuddered, turned from the window, and pulled the thin blanket over his eyes. It yanked from his feet, sending a chill up his spine. Grumbling, he unfastened the blanket around his waist, wrenched it from underneath him, and threw it over his feet and legs. It would do no good as clothing now; better to block the breeze leaking through the sorry excuse for a window.

Another round of laughter sounded below, this time joined with the cackle of the buxom barmaid. He shook his head, wondering how anyone slept here. Maybe these rooms weren’t used for sleeping.

He squeezed his eyes tighter. He shouldn’t think about such things, especially with Lieutenant Connelly in the next room. He tried not to think of her in that way, but she hadn’t helped much. Her eyes drifted over him every time they talked. And her mind … he didn’t even want to think about her emotions. She knew he sensed her, but she didn’t seem to care or even try to hide it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she would probably welcome a visit … if Nolan only asked.

Nolan cursed. Now he sounded like Kael! Even if she agreed (which she just might), he shouldn’t. How could he? She deserved better than to be treated like a tavern wench.

The laughing continued downstairs. He awakened his Perception and focused on where Kat slept. By the rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat, she was still awake. Lying there. Possibly thinking of him.

Nolan groaned. She was so … so … distracting.

Women had desired him before—well, at least one woman. The duke’s wife had made advances. Nolan’s first inclination was to just disappear, to be invisible. As a scribe for the Duke of Alton, he had gotten his wish. His dark and deserted corner of the manor made it easy to hide. The duke’s wife never ventured down there.

He had considered the duke’s wife’s advances to be a matter of circumstance. She was young and attractive. Old, balding, and weighing as much as two men put together, the duke couldn’t keep her attention. His wife flirted with Nolan because she had nothing else.

Nolan ran his hand over his chest, feeling the defined muscles. Sometimes he struggled to believe they were his own. Sure, he had made progress when he’d trained with Alec, when he was still a normal young man. He’d been proud of how he’d looked then; he had worked hard and had earned it. Now, he was transformed into something few could attain, muscles that would normally take a lifetime of effort. He deceived others, just as the Talasians hid emotions behind a false indifference. He, too, wore a mask. His body—along with his powers—didn’t belong to him.

Nolan crawled into his personal misery. One would think being more powerful than even Alcandor would be a good thing. Nolan, however, preferred blending in. With this nightforsaken body, that would never happen again.

A thump, then a crash sounded from the room next door. Nolan jumped out of bed, focused his Perception, and heard the telltale sounds of conflict, including a small cry from Kat.

He jumped up, all the powers of the Shay exploding from him at once. Without knocking, he rushed Kat’s door, exploding it into the room with his combined Strength and Speed. All four people inside fell as splinters impaled them. It was at that moment Nolan took in his surroundings.

Three drunken men had made the grievous mistake of trying to take advantage of Kat. Two were partially bound, covered in small sword slashes, looking as if they wished they’d made a different decision.

The third man, who Kat had been fighting at the time of Nolan’s over-zealous entrance, now cursed and thrashed on the floor with a large wooden spike piercing his thigh.

Kat unsettled Nolan the most. She glared at Nolan as she yanked a large fragment from her shoulder, another from her side, and one from her calf.

“My lord Emissary!” she said. “Thank you, but I had it under control.”

Nolan blinked. She was right, of course. Those pathetic drunks stood no chance against her.

She limped over to the man on the ground. In a not-so-kind way, she dislodged the offending spike, sending the man into another round of profanity.

“Shut your mouth,” she ordered, “or else I’ll shove the ruddy thing back in.”

The man did as he was told.

Kat flung the bloody piece aside and limped to Nolan, her face set in a deep scowl. Blood soaked through her fingers where she held her hand over her arm.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said with controlled rage, “heal me, please.”

Nolan didn’t say anything, but he hesitated, trying to figure out where it would be best to put his hand. He needed to touch skin, and the most convenient (and least intrusive) spot would be her cheek. However, he had the odd sensation one gets as they contemplate petting a dog and fearing it will bite.

Kat sighed and yanked her shirt open to reveal her shoulder. “Please, my lord.” She met his eyes, and her features softened.

He forced a faint smile. “Of course.” Then, tentatively, he placed his hand on her.

His Healing responded instantly, and he warmed as the green light blazed from his eyes. Healing energy pulsed down through his arm into her shoulder. She trembled, and her head tilted, her lips parting.

Nolan barely noticed the stab of pain as he absorbed her wounds; her expression mesmerized him. Straight, white teeth peeked from her open lips. Long lashes. Short brown hair with subtle curls. He surfaced a touch of Empathy to feel her emotions.

Longing and pleasure washed over her. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him, eyes wide. Grabbing his hand, she held it in place. Her green and yellow eyes searched his face, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

“What?” Nolan asked. His large palm warmed in hers.

She shook her head, her emotions radiating too many things to pinpoint just one.

“Kat?”

She pressed her lips together in defiance, refusing to answer.

A throat cleared behind them.

Nolan turned, yanking his hand from hers. Alec stood a few steps into the room, a package tucked under his arm, and his eyebrows raised as far as they could go.

“Um … Sorry,” Alec said. “I heard a commotion.” He started backing out of the room. “I would shut the door, but it’s … ”

Nolan noticed the drunks had seized the opportunity and fled. He blinked as realization swept over him. He’d removed his makeshift garment in bed, and he’d forgotten to put it back on. Ah, crows! Heat rose to his neck and face.

Kat yanked her own blanket off her bed and handed it to him, her cheeks flushing.

“So we can talk in the morning, eh?” Alec said, smirking.

“Wait!” Nolan blurted. “It’s not what you think.”

Alec snorted and held his palms toward him. “It’s none of my business.”

Nolan tied the woolen blanket around his waist. “There were some men in here. I had only come to help.”

“More men?” Alec’s smile widened. “Lieutenant Connelly, I had no idea you were that kind of girl.”

Kat’s face abruptly went from pink to red. Her anger ignited like a forge coal. She summoned her Speed, and her eyes flared golden yellow.

“Wait!” Alec said in mock fear. “I saw them leaving when I came in. Greer is talking to them about how stupid they were.”

“I think they’ve figured that out already.” Nolan scowled. “Wasn’t it your turn to watch the gypsy?”

The mirth on Alec’s face fell.

“Alec?” Kat said. “Where is she?”

“Um. Not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Nolan said. “I asked you to watch her for a couple hours. What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“The noise up here got everyone’s attention. She only just slipped away.”

Kat cursed and shoved her uniform on over her nightclothes. “She probably hasn’t gone too far.”

“I’ll take a look outside.” Alec turned to leave then stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He tossed Nolan the bundle he’d been holding. “I bought these off a big guy. They might be a bit short but should work otherwise.”

Nolan unfolded the bundle: a stained pair of breeches.

Kat shoved by Alec out the door. “Come on.”

Nolan didn’t know whether to be grateful for the clothes or annoyed at Alec for not giving them to him when he first came in.

The golden-yellow light of Speed flared in Alec’s eyes. “Better get going before—”

“Alec!” Kat scolded from the hall.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Too late.” Then, saying nothing more, he shot away.

Nolan breathed a sigh of relief and unfastened the wool blanket.

Some muttered whispers sounded at the door. A group of people, probably bar-goers, were too curious to restrain themselves any longer and had wandered upstairs, peering through the opening. Horror emanated from them when they saw Nolan. A scurrying sound followed as they disappeared.

“Oh, for Brim’s sake,” Nolan murmured. He stepped into the hallway in time to see another pair of drunks make their way up the stairs.

Nolan ignored their panicked faces and turned toward his own room. He entered and closed the door, submerging himself in the semi-darkness, thankful for the solitude once again.

He let the blanket drop from his waist and stepped into his newly adopted clothes. They didn’t smell so good, but at that moment, he didn’t care. As he pulled them up, a voice joined him in the darkness.

“No need to put those on for me.” A light flickered to life.

The gypsy girl held the flame in her hand and brought it to the lamp on the side table. Nolan blinked, adjusting to the light. What magic is this? As the lantern flickered brighter, he saw a small twig in her hand. She shook out the flame.

“How’d you do that?” Nolan asked.

She smiled. “The plants of our world hold all sorts of properties. One only needs to learn which ones to combine.”

“You can make fire?”

She shrugged.

“Why are you here, gypsy?”

“It’s Jezebelle,” she said as her bottom lip jutted in a pout. “If you order me around like a slave, the least you can do is order me by name.” Jezebelle closed the distance to him. “They call you Emissary. Why?” She touched his chest.

He caught her wrist. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think? Isn’t it obvious?”

He summoned his Empathy and dug into her mind. Desire lingered, but something else hid behind it, something he couldn’t quite place. “No. Why else are you here?”

A flare of anger spiked in her emotions, as well as apprehension.

A quick rap sounded on his door before it opened. Alec pushed inside, a deep scowl on his brow.

“We can’t find—” He glared and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“Ah, yes, quite the agreement,” she said. “You allow me to breathe if I don’t leave the inn. I kept my part of the bargain.”

“That doesn’t mean you disappear without telling me.”

“You act like I’m a villain. I promised I would go on the boat, silly boy.” She feigned an expression of innocence and wrapped her hands around Nolan’s arm. Her perfume was strong—an odd combination of lavender and cinnamon. “As you see, I’m in very good hands.”

Nolan shrugged her off. “Go with Alec.”

The flirtatious nature in her emotions plummeted. “It’s your loss, Emissary.” She strode across the room, turned, and whipped a braided lock over her shoulder.

Nolan remembered what Greer had shared, about Guardians being able to read minds. He didn’t trust this gypsy any more than Alcandor. She was hiding something, and doing an excellent job of it. Nolan searched in himself, focusing on his Guardian power.

A faint voice filled Nolan’s head. “This isn’t over, freak. You will be mine.”

Chapter Six

NOLAN AND KATE TRAVELED IN SILENCE back to Faylinn. They had left Renfrew earlier that morning, sending Alec and Greer on the Talasian ship with the reluctant gypsy. Alec had stabbed Nolan with a full set of imaginary eye daggers as a trio of warriors rowed him toward the Talasian ship. Nolan would have to be careful the next time they met. Revenge clung to Alec’s emotions like a second skin.

The gypsy’s silent words from the night before kept taunting him. “This isn’t over, freak. You will be mine.” What had she meant, besides the obvious freak part? She was up to something, but he didn’t know what. At least he’d have time to figure it out before they arrived in Faylinn. He snorted. Time or space never helped him understand girls. Or worse yet, women.

“What’s wrong?” Kat asked.

Nolan pulled his attention from his empty plate. He’d long since finished his rations. He and Kat sat in a small clearing in the forest, at one of the many permanent encampments in Adamah. They’d stuck to the roads, though they didn’t need to. The Dor’Jan had disappeared three months ago; the soulless creatures were all but extinct. But still, running with Speed Shay was a lot safer on the paths. It kept them from tripping over random roots or stones.

“Nothing,” Nolan answered. “Just thinking about things.”

Their eyes met and unspoken questions passed between them. From their weeks of travel, he’d become good at reading her. And as each day passed, she’d held back her emotions less and less. The incident in her room the previous night made everything even more awkward. Today, she stared at him, her hazel eyes examining his face, expectant.

“Not those things,” he added.

Annoyance ticked from her emotions. “So when are we going to talk about those things, Lord Emissary?”

“When you start calling me Nolan.”

She opened her mouth to object, then closed it. A smiled crept to her face. “So if I call you Nolan, then we’ll talk about what’s happening between us?”

He stood and shoved things in his bag. He didn’t want to discuss it, especially not with her. “We need to get moving.”

Kat grabbed his arm. “You sense emotions. You know how I feel.”

Nolan paused and then nodded once.

“I don’t have Empathy,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze, “but I know you feel something too.”

She released him, but not before dragging her fingers down his bare arm as she stepped away. His skin warmed more than it should have with so little clothes on. He hadn’t found a shirt that could fit him, and he only wore the old, tattered breeches.

She started packing, glancing at him now and then.

Nolan cleared his throat. “It shouldn’t take us long to get to the castle.”

She flung the bag over her shoulder and winked. “We’ll just see who gets there first.” And with that, her eyes blazed yellow, and she was gone.

He kept up with her for a while but soon realized that she ran faster. At one point, she left the trail and went into the forest. Nolan followed, dodging branches and jumping over rocks. He focused his Precision so he wouldn’t slam into a tree. And as the race continued, she eventually lost him.

Finally, Nolan broke through the tree line next to the clearing in front of Faylinn. He inhaled deep gasps of air and waited for his racing heart to slow. The breeze, which had been blocked by trees, hit his body, cooling the layer of sweat coating his skin. He leaned on his knees as he caught his breath. After resting briefly, he stood, dislodging the fabric sticking to his thighs. He’d been grateful to have something to wear, but he couldn’t wait to get out of these pathetic breeches.

He turned and found Kat sitting against a tree as if she’d been waiting there all day. She studied him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Enjoying the view.”

“What vie—” Realization smacked him. He gawked at her as his jaw dropped open.

She stood, and an evil grin spread across her face.

Nolan turned, his ears warming. The thin garment clung to him, but he wasn’t about to adjust them now, even if they wedged up his backside. He ran a hand over his chin. What am I going to do with this girl?

His embarrassment slipped away as his eyes drifted to the walls of Faylinn. Normally, soldiers kept watch over the field, standing on the towering walls of Faylinn surrounding the castle and its keep. But the positions where the Perception Rol’dan typically stood were empty. A smattering of birds—a black raven and a few blue and brown tacsso birds—perched on the ledge.

“That’s odd,” Kat said as she came next to him.

It was odd. He’d never seen the wall deserted. Even during the reign of Alcandor, when no one dared attack, they never left their posts. Nolan summoned his Perception and focused inside the walls.

He could hear voices and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is everything okay?” Kat asked.

“I think so. There’s a group at the practice field. Maybe a training exercise …” His words drifted away as he listened harder. It was no exercise. More like an argument. No. Definitely a fight … about boots.

“I choose not to wear them,” Maska’s low voice answered.

“And your shirt?” another voice growled.

“I do not have to—”

The sound of a fist impacting with bone interrupted him.

Nolan flared his Speed, and Kat followed at his heels.

The six manors, one for each power sect, encircled the large green expanse where the Shay Rol’dan trained. A thick air of hatred spewed from their emotions.

Nolan and Kat skidded to stop, both staring at the soldiers.

“Oh. It’s just a fight,” Kat said, her tense shoulders relaxing. Apparently, she’d seen her fair share of Rol’dan brawling during her years in their ranks.

However, Nolan knew it was different. Maska was involved.

“Lord Emissary,” Kat said. “What’s wrong?”

Nolan searched the crowd. Finally, he saw Maska in the center of the ring of bodies, his dark skin contrasting against the other soldiers. The bearded soldiers cheered the fighters on, their emotions radiating with cruelty, not just glee.

Maska was obviously outnumbered—because he was Talasian, he didn’t have many friends here in Faylinn. The Rol’dan soldiers hated him. Nolan went into the conflict, pushing past men too entranced by the fight to even notice him.

Kat trailed him. “Lord Emissary. It’s just a fight. These idiots do this stupid stuff all the time.”

Nolan shoved through them, his heart accelerating. He stopped, gawking at the sight of Maska.

Nolan awakened his Empathy, clenching his hands into fists as the power shook through his limbs. He threw it out in a visible wave of light, freezing them like stone.

Staggering, his eyesight blurred as he adjusted to the release of his power. He turned to Kat, but he’d frozen her as well.

With a touch on her arm, he released her.

She stumbled. “Stop doing …” Her words choked in her throat at the sight.

Maska lay on the ground, his cheek collapsed, his nose broken. One side of his face was crushed in. He too was frozen, but the blood continued to flow. Nolan knelt, searching for signs of life. A faint heartbeat met his Perception ears.

Nolan reached for him, then hesitated. He’d never healed this kind of injury before. Bracing himself, he touched Maska’s chest, and his Shay of Healing reacted instantly.

Sledgehammer pain struck Nolan’s face, and his cheekbone collapsed. As hard as he tried to hold it back, he screamed. He recovered briefly before a new wave of pain washed over him. His ribs broke, and his arm cracked with a loud pop. He absorbed every deep bruise and the internal damage inflicted by the stone-hard punches of the Strength Rol’dan. He collapsed to his knees, barely able to maintain contact, while Kat held his hand against Maska’s bloodied chest.

Finally, his pain closed over, healing the last injury. He collapsed onto shaking hands, feeling spent of Brim’s light.

As his breathing calmed, he opened his eyes to the concerned gaze of his brother, Kael Trividar, general of the Rol’dan army.

“What in the Darkness is going on here?” Kael growled.

Nolan smiled weakly. “Good to see you, brother.” He then noticed the soldiers around him. Somehow, he’d maintained their frozen state. With a pathetic wave of his arm, he released them, and the group jerked back to normal.

“Well?” Kael said, his eyes going from one guilty-looking face to another.

“They tried to kill Maska,” Kat answered.

“Certainly they aren’t that stupid.” Kael paced in front of the soldiers, stopping at a short, athletic man dressed in the red tunic and cape of the Strength Rol’dan. A thick brown and gray beard hung midway down his chest. Blood coated the soldier’s fist, and his face held a smug expression.

“Captain Ekon,” Kael said. “You will meet me in the throne room.”

“But I have responsibilities, General, sir.”

Kael’s eyes brightened with the golden-yellow light of Speed. He closed his hand over the hilt of his sword. “You will go to the throne room, dead or alive. Your choice.”

Ekon’s arrogant face fell flat. “As you wish, my general.”

Silence followed as Captain Ekon stomped away.

Maska lay on the grass, groaning.

Kael pointed at a pair of Strength Rol’dan. “You two. Take him to one of the second-floor rooms in the castle. If he doesn’t make it there safely, then I will know who to blame.”

Nolan stood, staggering. Kat grabbed his arm.

“I’m okay,” Nolan said.

Kat met his eyes and said, “That was … horrible.”

“Go with those soldiers.” Nolan motioned to the men lifting Maska. “If they lay one finger on him, run them through.”

Kat nodded, her face tinted a slight shade of green. “You’re okay?”

He forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

She hesitated, and then she followed the men inside.

“The rest of you get back to training.” Kael pointed at an upper-ranking lieutenant. “You’re in charge until the captain returns.”

The young man’s chest swelled, and he began barking orders.

Kael stepped toward the castle. Nolan staggered a few steps and then matched his brother’s pace.

“Welcome back,” Kael said. He eyed Nolan’s stained breeches, now streaked with blood. “I’d ask what in Brim’s light you’re wearing, but I imagine you won’t tell me.”

Nolan grinned. “Definitely not.”

***

Emery Cadogan stood tensely in the center of the large, stone throne room, overdressed in kingly purple clothes. The high-domed ceiling sprayed sunlight upon him, reflecting light in the gem-adorned circlet on his head. Megan stood with him, wearing her nightgown—which was odd, considering the hour. Her hair hung in tangles, and dark circles ringed her eyes. A floor-length purple cloak rested across her shoulders—most likely Emery’s doing.

They both jumped when Kael and Nolan appeared.

“For the love of … ” Emery grumbled. “General Trividar, how many times do I have to tell you to slow down before you … ” He paused. “Nolan? What happened to you?”

Megan gasped as she took in his appearance.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty,” Kael said. “We have a problem. A fight broke out in the practice yard.”

“See!” Megan said. “I told you I saw them from my window. They were beating him.” She looked at Kael. “Is Maska—”

“He’s alive.” Kael motion to Nolan. “Thanks to him.”

Realization washed over Megan as her face paled. She was a Healer, too. If anyone could understand, it would be her.

Just then, Captain Ekon burst through the door. He hesitated, surprise pulsing from his emotions upon seeing Kael and Nolan. He apparently hadn’t expected them to arrive before him.

“Captain,” Emery said. “Lady Megan says she observed a disturbing scene. She claims you were trying to murder a man.”

Ekon’s eyes narrowed. “It depends on one’s definition of a man.” Then, suddenly, Ekon clenched his hand into a fist and punched himself in the face. He cursed and held his nose, which bled.

Emery glared, the violet light of Empathy flaring in his eyes. “I’d hit you myself, Captain, but your hand is more effective than mine.”

Captain Ekon’s red face came up and locked on Megan. “So you’re taking the word of a girl?”

Megan hugged Emery’s cloak to her shoulders while Ekon’s eyes traveled over her. A small sneer turned up the side of his lip.

“Captain,” Emery said, his eyes cold. “I’m warning you to control your thoughts.”

“Thoughts cause no harm.”

“I know you well enough, Captain. Your thoughts usually precede action. I have been lenient so far, because I need your experience with the men. But, if you continue thinking such rude things, and if you keep hurting your fellow soldiers, I’ll have no choice but to remove you from the Rol’dan.”

Ekon’s smile flattened. “What are we supposed to do when you stick Talaswine in our ranks?” A glazed expression fell over his face; he reared back and punched himself again. He lunged toward Emery, cursing.

Both Kael and Nolan appeared between them.

Ekon stumbled back, his face a mask of rage. “And what about the Talasi? If they march on us, where will your loyalties be?”

“My loyalties will be with Adamah,” Emery said. “As are Maska’s loyalties to me. If you wrong Maska, you wrong me.”

Emery motioned to Kael. “General, please escort Captain Ekon to the dungeon. Perhaps a night sleeping in a cell will help him think more clearly.”

Rage pulsed from Captain Ekon, along with a touch of fear. He stood straight, his hands clenched into fists.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Emery said. “I won’t place you anywhere near Alcandor.” He paused. “That is, unless you resist.”

“Come on,” Kael urged, giving the brawny Rol’dan a shove. Ekon obeyed, his hard footsteps and muttered profanity echoing as he exited the room.

As soon as they left, Nolan spoke. “You can’t trust him.”

Emery sighed. “I know.”

“Then why keep him?”

He cast Nolan a tired look. “The balance of the Rol’dan hangs by a thread. Alcandor was overthrown only three months ago. I need the least amount of change possible. And now there are those rumors of Talasian sightings.”

“But they’re only rumors,” Megan said. “You know how people talk.”

“They’re not rumors,” Nolan said.

Silence followed.

Emery’s mouth opened slightly before he spoke. “Nolan?”

“Last night, a group of Talasian ships pulled into the shores of Renfrew,” Nolan said. “They’ve heard of you, Emery. Not sure how word reached across the sea, but it has. The king said he had something for you, an offering to unite our two lands.”

“The king of Talasi, eh?” Emery released a sigh and relaxed his shoulders. “A peacekeeping mission. That’s good news, at least. Do you sense honesty in his offer?”

“I do,” Nolan answered. “I sent Alec and Greer on their boat to watch over them until they arrive. They’re coming here, by sea.”

“You sent the boy?” Kael asked, reappearing with his Speed.

“That was quick,” Megan said.

One side of Kael’s mouth pulled up. “Obviously.”

“Alec killed you, brother,” Nolan said. “I’m sure he can take care of a few Talasians.”

Kael forced a laugh. “Who said I worried about Alec? I’m concerned about him starting a war.”

“I’d be more nervous about your armies maiming each other.”

“Nolan’s right, General,” Emery said. “We need to keep better order, somehow. I’d hate to see what would happen if Talasi attacked and our army was too busy fighting one another.”

“Too late for that,” Megan said.

Emery cringed. “I need to keep Maska away from the others. He must stay here in the castle.”

“Maska will object,” Kael said. “He doesn’t like being singled out as a king’s favorite.”

“Maybe the fact he almost died this time will convince him of the necessity.”

“Getting rid of Ekon might help,” Megan suggested.

“Some,” Emery said. “But not completely. The hatred of Talasi runs much deeper than Ekon. The man knows his soldiers, and they follow him. Besides, I’m not sure I want him roaming around the countryside causing trouble. Best to keep him where I can watch over his disobedience.”

“And if he leads them to revolt?” Megan asked.

Emery dragged a hand over his beard. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and scowl lines trailed across his forehead. He seemed older in the three months since he’d taken the crown. He grabbed one of Megan’s hands in both of his. “Don’t worry, Megan. I’ll keep an eye on Captain Ekon.”

Megan’s eyes searched Emery, as if trying to read him. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

Emery smiled. “Now please, get some rest.”

“Emery, it’s still daylight.”

“And you’ve had little success during the night. You need sleep.”

She frowned. From her defiant thoughts, Nolan knew she wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. She nodded, as if agreeing, and then she handed Emery his cloak before turning toward the doors. She took two steps and paused. “It’s good to have you back, Nolan.”

Nolan watched her as she left. She looked so exhausted, so frail. Then he remembered why Emery had sent Alec to fetch him—because of Megan.

“How long has she been like this?” Nolan asked.

“Too long.” Emery ran his hand over the cloak in his hands. “She wakes and screams in the middle of the night. No matter what I’ve tried, it only gives her a brief respite. I can’t get it under control.”

Before Nolan could press the subject further, the large doors to the throne room opened, and Kat strode in. She’d changed into a clean Rol’dan uniform—tight-fitting leather breeches, a black leather jerkin buttoned across her chest. Her knee-high boots clicked across the stone floor as she pulled down the edge of her jerkin. The gold fabric of her tunic and cape signified her as a Speed Rol’dan. She scanned Nolan once before she bowed to her king.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “Maska is resting. I took the liberty of ordering him a meal, as well as a hot bath. He wishes to speak to you, my lord.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Emery said.

Kat bowed again. “Of course.”

As Kat left, Nolan tried not to notice how her clothes clung to her long legs. She wore the traditional men’s uniform. She said it was easier to fight in; a dress would get in her way. Nolan rather liked her in it, even if some might think it improper. But she never cared what people thought.

“Let’s see to Maska,” Emery said, a weak smile on his face. “After that, you can tell me more about this Talasian king.”

Nolan followed Emery from the throne room. They turned at the first corridor, one painted a bright gold, and continued toward a flight of stairs. The wide steps were too big to be practical. Alcandor had built this castle. Everything was made for his large ego.

A pair of soldiers—the same ones who had been ordered to take Maska—came around the corner, talking and laughing. The sight of their king and Nolan stopped them cold, and blood drained from their faces.

They snapped to attention as fear washed over them.

“As you were, soldiers,” Emery said as he passed.

The men continued standing as if someone had shoved a steel rod up their backsides. Only when Nolan and Emery were out of sight could Nolan hear their muttered whispers as they descended the stairs.

“So is it me or you?” Nolan asked.

Emery chuckled. “You, of course. They’re not afraid of me.”

“Surely—”

“Don’t get me wrong. A good number respect me. But considering the tyrant who led them before, I am a much-desired relief. You, on the other hand, single-handedly defeated their king. That’s someone to fear.” He motioned to Nolan’s right. “This way.”

They progressed down a hall adorned in bright orange paint. Everything in Adamah was color-coded, even the streets in the towns, to honor the six Shay powers. A series of rooms stretched the length of the hall, most with closed doors. Nolan wondered why the rooms were built, as Alcandor probably never had guests. He glanced inside one of the open doors into an empty bedroom. Ahead, two guards stood in front of a closed door.

“Megan is there.” Emery pointed farther down the hallway. “My room’s at the end.”

“You’re not staying in the king’s chamber?”

Emery’s posture stiffened, and a flood of apprehension surged from him. He pursed his lips before speaking. “Obviously not.”

Of course Emery wouldn’t want to stay in Alcandor’s quarters. Even if convenient—being right off the throne room—it probably held too many bad memories. Emery had shared with him a little bit of those dark days when he served as the king’s general. Alcandor bent the minds of his Rol’dan to do his will. And Emery’s will had been bent to the continual lusts of the king.

Another room had a smattering of guards and servants. A maid hurried out with a scowl on her face.

“I said I don’t want to bathe,” a voice said from inside.

A second servant scuttled out, holding a pail.

“And this would be Maska’s room,” Emery said, smiling. He put a hand on Nolan’s chest, stopping him. His smile faded. “I must warn you. He’s changed since you’ve gone.”

“How so?” Nolan asked.

His answer came in the form of a silver tray as it zinged out the door and embedded into the stone wall. A third servant squealed and ran out as a flurry of Talasian curses erupted from inside.

Nolan blinked in astonishment. For years, Maska had hidden his emotions. It was part of his Talasian culture. But ever since Alcandor had captured him and Emery, Maska had changed.

“He’s gotten worse,” Nolan said.

Emery nodded. “Aye. Every day I see more of the turmoil raging inside him.”

Another crash sounded inside the room.

“Is it safe to go in?” Nolan asked.

Emery chuckled. “We’ll be fine. Thank Brim he only takes it out on objects.”

Maska faced away from them when they entered. He held an iron lantern stand, twisting and bending it into a small knot. He wore only leather breeches—no shirt, no shoes—similar to his native culture. His raven hair had, at one time, been long, but it was now cropped to his head like other Rol’dan.

He turned, his eyes flaming with the light of Strength. With his savage expression, red eyes, and the bent metal in his hand, he was frightening, indeed.

His expression softened when he saw them. He scowled, lowering the mangled bar to his side. “I thought you were another servant.”

“Servants I sent to you,” Emery said. “Please quit scaring them, Maska. They’re only trying to help.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t think clearly. It’s inexcusable to lose my temper.” He shifted his gaze and fixed on Nolan, examining his face and blood-soaked clothing before finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

Nolan smiled. “It’s what friends are for.”

The clang of swords echoed from the window, where the practice field rested below. Nolan could hear Kael’s sharp voice keeping the rabble under control.

Maska lowered his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I won’t let it happen again.”

“For Brim’s sake, Maska. Call me Emery. We’ve been friends too long for that sort of thing.”

“As you wish, Your Maj … ” Maska cringed. “Emery. But my relationship with the other Rol’dan is already stretched thin. Speaking to you so informally will only exacerbate the situation.”

“Which brings up a very important point,” Emery said. “From this moment on, you are no longer a Rol’dan. I’m officially releasing you from duty.”

Maska opened his mouth to object, but Emery stopped him with a raised hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It has nothing to do with the fight.”

Maska frowned, something he’d never done just three months ago. “You’re lying, Emery.”

Emery shrugged. “So it may have a little to do with the fight. They almost killed you. You’re still struggling with controlling your emotions. It’d be best, for all concerned, if you kept away from them for a while.”

“But—”

Emery shushed him. “But that’s not the only reason I’m releasing you. I need you for something else.”

Maska’s brow furrowed. “Such as?”

“I need you to translate for me.”

“Translate what?”

Nolan told him of the tattooed king and the approaching Talasians.

Maska’s expression went blank. He set the twisted metal bar on a table, shock and fear in his emotions. “Which leader?”

“A King Kamaman, or Kamason or … ”

“Kamalin,” Maska added.

“Yes. King Kamalin.”

Maska’s face whitened from his typical olive hue. Maska had been banished from his land. Perhaps King Kamalin was responsible?

“No,” Maska said finally, “I will not translate.”

“Maska,” Emery said, “whatever grievances you may have with your people will have to be pushed aside for now.”

“You don’t understand,” Maska said, his voice nearly a whisper, “my very presence may bring about war.”

Chapter Seven

THEY’D STAYED WITH MASKA for a while, discussing what to do about the Talasians. He shared with them some customs and what they might expect. He didn’t share his involvement with them, nor why they had banished him. As they talked, the sounds of sparring in the field ended. The sun dropped, and a brave servant finally entered to make a fire.

Nolan and Emery left with more questions than when they first arrived. No matter how much they’d pried into his mind, Maska kept his emotions tightly closed. It was impressive really. Years of hiding his emotions served Maska well.

As they walked down the hall, Emery exuded annoyance from his emotions. Nolan remembered his Guardian power and tapped into his newly discovered ability. Emery cursed in his mind.

Nolan smiled. “Such foul words aren’t appropriate for a king.”

Emery turned his head, curiosity spiking his emotions.

“It’s my Guardian side,” Nolan explained. “I guess I can read minds.”

“Read minds? More than reading emotions?”

“It’s similar to when we speak with our Shays, when we both use Empathy. But I can use it on everyone.”

Emery slowed his steps. “Fascinating. And you did this, just now?”

“Yes,” Nolan answered. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“No. I felt nothing.”

Nolan nodded slowly. Apparently, he could use his Guardian Empathy without others knowing. Very interesting, indeed.

Emery cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t have happened to find any—”

“Nothing,” Nolan said. “Maska’s mind is fortified like a prison cell.”

“So this mind reading thing,” Emery continued, “is this something the Guardians share with you?”

“Greer told me about it.”

Emery snorted. “Explains quite a bit. He always brought me exactly what I wanted before I’d said anything. Even before I knew he was a Guardian, I swore he had some sort of premonition. I even joked that he could read minds.” He smiled. “Of course, I hadn’t actually believed he could do it.”

They continued down the hallway and stopped in front of Megan’s room. Two soldiers, both adorned in orange tunics and capes of the Perception Rol’dan, bowed as they approached.

“Report, soldier,” Emery said.

“Lieutenant Connelly entered a short while ago. I heard them speaking, but all is silent now. By the sound of Lady Megan’s breathing, I believe she is now sleeping.”

“Very good,” Emery replied. “You are both dismissed for the remainder of the night.”

The men eyed Emery but said nothing. They bowed once and did as they were told.

Nolan waited until they were gone, and then he summoned his Shay of Empathy, speaking directly to Emery’s mind. “You know what they’re thinking, don’t you?”

Emery frowned. “They’re suspicious.”

“They believe you and Megan are …” He paused. “… intimate.”

Emery’s eyes widened briefly before he scowled. He spoke out loud, irritation in his voice. “Don’t be absurd.”

Nolan pointed to his temple. “Remember? I read their minds.”

Emery cursed under his breath. Then Nolan heard jumbled thoughts with words such as “dungeon” and “horse mucking” pass through Emery’s mind.

“Can you blame them?” Nolan said. “After having Alcandor, what else would they expect? You’re the king, and you’re visiting a young woman’s chamber at night.”

Emery clenched his teeth. “They are Perception Rol’dan. All they need to do is listen; they’d hear that nothing is going on.”

“Eavesdrop on their king?” Nolan said. “They’ve been in the Rol’dan long enough not to be that stupid. Besides, you probably told them to mind their own business.”

Emery sighed, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes, of course. They were only following my instructions.”

As Emery reached for the latch, Nolan caught his arm. “Why are you going to Megan’s room?” he asked.

Emery hesitated. “Let me show you instead.”

He slowly pushed open the door into Megan’s darkened chambers. The only light flickered from the hearth, the fire chasing away the coolness of the corridor outside the room. Nolan rubbed his arms, allowing the heat to soak into his flesh. Emery brought a finger to his lips.

Kat sat next to the bed, her head drooped on her chest in sleep. Nolan motioned toward Kat and summoned his Empathy. “What is she doing here?” he asked Emery with his mind.

Emery pursed his lips and answered, “More than likely, Megan didn’t want to be alone. Her dreams have been terrible.”

“What is she dreaming about?”

“Don’t know. She doesn’t tell anyone. However, I’ve been coming here after dark and using my Empathy to calm her.”

“And she’s okay with this?”

Guilt oozed from Emery before he spoke. “She doesn’t know.”

Nolan held back a snort of amusement. Megan wouldn’t want to be dependent on any man. No wonder Emery had kept it from her.

“What else could I do?” Emery added. “She wakes screaming and can’t eat. In the evening, she calms enough to take a bite or two, then it happens all over again.”

“So how long have you been doing this?”

“Three days now.”

“And it’s helping?”

Emery sighed. “To an extent. She’s more rested, but she still isn’t eating well.”

Nolan eyed Emery, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “You can’t keep this up,” he said. “You have a kingdom to run. Let me have a try. You need sleep.”

Nolan felt Emery’s conflicting emotions; Emery thought he needed to be the one protecting Megan, not Nolan. However, he was exhausted, and the idea of sleep appealed to him.

“All right,” Emery said. “I’ll be by the fire, in case you need me.”

Emery would rest better in his own bed, but Nolan wouldn’t fight him on where he should sleep. Emery’s tension relaxed as he collapsed into a plush chair. His eyes pulled closed, and he covered a yawn. “Thanks, friend,” he whispered.

Nolan waited until Emery slept before he situated himself on a wooden chair next to Megan’s bed. She lay on her side with her eyes closed. A subtle furrow between her brows was the only indication of her nightmare.

Nolan took a deep breath, preparing for what would be a long night. He summoned his Shay of Empathy and dipped into Megan’s mind. Right away her apprehension met him. He pushed against it, telling her with his mind that “all was well.” Her emotions relaxed, but then the apprehension grew again. This would be a battle.

As the night progressed with the war between fear and contentment, Nolan wondered if he was helping at all. Starting to feel his travels, his healing of Maska, and the long day, his muscles ached—and he still hadn’t showered and changed.

He rolled his shoulders, reminding himself that Emery needed sleep more. He focused on Megan. Whatever her dreams were, he couldn’t take them away, only soothe the emotions they evoked. It made him wonder: What exactly was she dreaming?

He withdrew his Shay and glanced over at Emery. His breathing had slowed in deep sleep. Kat adjusted in the nearby chair, sleeping as well. Megan’s frown lines increased.

Could he read her thoughts? Did he dare? If he knew more, he could better direct her emotions. He searched his powers, once again grasping the Guardian side. He focused on Megan and slowly, gently, dipped into her mind. This time, instead of her emotions, a scene opened; he peered through her eyes.

He lay on a bed, but not the one Megan currently slept on. Ornate tapestries and paintings hung on the walls. He pushed into a soft blanket—silk maybe, and the sound of his own fear-tainted breathing filled his ears. He tugged with his arm, but it wouldn’t move. His wrist—Megan’s wrist—pulled against a rope. He followed the binding to an ornate post of a four-poster bed and wrenched against it. Her secured limbs ached. It was then he noticed she was unclothed.

Nolan drew back from the vision, mortified he’d witnessed this part of her dream. But a movement from the corner of Megan’s eyes made him hesitate. King Alcandor strode toward her and climbed onto the bed.

Nolan yanked out of her mind abruptly. The shame enwrapping her still lingered in his emotions. The fire snapped and popped with its gentle serenade in Megan’s room. Both Emery and Kat still slept. No one else, apart from Nolan, realized the torment Megan faced: memories of her night with King Alcandor.

Megan whimpered and shifted on the bed, tossing her head to one side.

Nolan strengthened his resolve, but this time only entered her mind with his Empathy Shay. He would soothe her, not enter her mind. Instead of covering her emotions and bandaging them like wounds, Nolan wished he could take them away. However, Empathy didn’t work that way.

Then an idea came to him. What if he absorbed her emotions? His Healing absorbed wounds; why couldn’t he do the same for emotions? He continued to calm with his Empathy, then he brought up his Healing at the same time.

Abruptly her emotions intensified inside him. Nolan’s hands trembled as fear leeched into him. He wanted to pull away, but as she relaxed into her mattress, it encouraged him to continue. Then her emotions changed; the fear mutated into something else. Not until it was too late did he realize Alcandor had taken over her mind.

Desire transferred to Nolan and sensations invaded his body. It only took a moment for him to absorb her emotions completely. He yanked away, but the orchestra in his body remained.

He closed his eyes and gripped the sides of the chair; the wood cracked in his iron hold. He leaned his head back, and as he tried to control it, a long moan escaped his lips.

A hand touched his shoulder.

Nolan’s eyes snapped open.

Kat looked at him, confusion and concern in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

Without thinking, Nolan jumped up, grabbed her face, and kissed her hard and deep. She backed up, butting against the wall.

Something fell off the side table with a crash. He didn’t care. He needed to sate this desire. He dug his fingers into her hair and down her neck; he pushed her shirt off her shoulders, caressing her smooth, silk-like skin. With a quick yank, he ripped open the front of her tunic and, all at once, the lust left him, and the reality of the moment came into view.

Megan and Emery were awake, gawking.

Kat eyed him, both confusion and excitement emanating from her. Her ripped tunic hung open, only half covering her heaving chest. The white scar shone visibly between her breasts, the same place where he’d stabbed her a few short months before.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked. Her eyes went to Emery, then to the strange scene before her.

Nolan took a step away from Kat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

The door burst open, and the two guards lunged in, swords drawn. Confusion washed across them with the scene. Kat pulled the ruined tunic together and held it with her fist.

“Get out!” Megan yelled.

The guards gawked at Emery. He nodded.

Megan hugged the blanket to her chin as the guards departed, and then, with a trembling voice, asked, “Anyone want to explain what’s going on in here?”

“I’d like an explanation myself,” Emery said, eyeing Nolan.

“I’d like to know why Nolan and Kat found my room, of all places, to hold their rendezvous. But I really want to know why you are here.” She stared at Emery expectantly.

Emery opened his mouth to protest, but stopped, resignation spilling from him. “I’ve been coming here to soothe your dreams.”

Megan stared, then her brows furrowed. “How many nights?”

“This would be the fourth.”

“That would explain …” Realization washed over her face. Then her jaw hardened, and she jabbed her thumb in Nolan’s direction. “And what about him?”

“Nolan came to help.” Emery crossed his arms. “Or he was supposed to.”

“I-I … ” Nolan stammered. “Was just trying something different.” He choked. That hadn’t come out so well.

“He wasn’t himself,” Kat cut in.

All eyes—except for Kat’s—locked on him. But what could he say without embarrassing Megan? He dipped into portions of her memory he shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry,” Nolan said. “I told Emery I’d take over for him, but the darkness and seeing Kat sleeping there … I lost control.”

Kat’s gaze snapped up, meeting his.

Emery scowled. “Nolan, if I might speak to you privately.”

He motioned for the door, and Nolan followed, leaving the girls alone. As soon as they were outside the room, Emery’s mind prodded his.

“Well?” Emery said. “What happened?”

Nolan hesitated. “I used my Guardian powers and dipped into Megan’s head. I saw her dream.”

Emery’s anger left abruptly. “So you know what it is?”

Nolan nodded but didn’t answer.

“Come on, friend. I need to know.”

Nolan swallowed before answering. “She’s dreaming about her night with Alcandor.”

Emery’s face paled. Emery, of all people, could sympathize. “And what else? You aren’t telling me everything.”

“I … um … ” He hesitated. “I used both Empathy and Healing to absorb her emotions.”

“You can do that?” Emery’s face paled a second time. “Which is why you attacked Kat. No wonder Megan can’t rest. It’s taken me years to get over those memories.”

Nolan didn’t say anything, but he knew Emery still hadn’t gotten over it.

“No amount of soothing will get her past this,” Emery added. “We need to give her some time.”

“And I doubt she’ll be letting you sneak into her room anymore.”

Emery ran a hand through his hair. “No. Probably not.”

Nolan summoned his Perception, listening to the girls in the room. They whispered, gossiping. Nolan yanked back his power.

Emery eyed him. “So what’s happening in there?”

“They’re talking about us.”

Emery leaned in, curiosity lacing his emotions. “And?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Emery shuddered. “You’re right. It’s better we don’t.”

Even so, they didn’t move from their place in the hall. Feet shifting. Hands wringing. Their arms twitched with nervous tension.

Finally, Emery spoke. “Go ahead. Maybe we can do something to help?”

Nolan snorted. “Haven’t we done enough?”

They both forced a nervous laugh. But curiosity took over, and Nolan again directed his Perception into Megan’s room. He tuned out the crackling fireplace. They weren’t talking anymore, thank Brim. Steady breathing signified Megan’s peaceful slumber as well as the stress-free beating of her heart.

“Megan’s asleep.”

Emery released a long sigh. “Maybe she can get some rest tonight.”

Nolan directed his Perception farther and heard Kat. She, unfortunately, didn’t sleep. Her heart beat quickly, excitedly. Apparently, she hadn’t quite recovered from their little Alcandor-induced fling.

As Nolan pulled back, he caught another sound. He focused on something softer and quicker. It was almost inaudible, like a whisper. His stomach dropped, and he felt the blood leave his face.

“What is it?” Emery asked.

Nolan focused in once more, hearing the unmistakable sound. Clarity filled his mind. The tiredness. Her inability to eat. Part of him was relieved; at least she wasn’t sick or dying. But the truth opened a whole new problem, one without an easy answer.

“Nolan. For Brim’s sake, what’s wrong?”

Nolan hesitated and ran a hand over his chin. “Megan is with child.”

Chapter Eight

NOLAN STOOD IN THE THRONE ROOM waiting for the others. He’d slept little; Megan’s vision haunted him too much to concentrate on anything else. The bed. Alcandor. The ropes cutting into his wrists—no, her wrists. It had all seemed so vivid and real. And even though he’d caught only a glimpse of what she’d endured with Alcandor, it still made him shiver.

He shifted his weight and straightened his freshly washed tunic. Cracking his knuckles, he stared at the open doorway. What was taking everyone so long? The topic of this meeting, Megan and her new problem, opened Nolan’s mind to endless possibilities. Could Alcandor father a child? And if so, what did that mean for Nolan? Could he have a future with a wife? Did Nolan dare consider a normal life? Not that he was normal, but at least he could cling to a glimmer of possibility. There was far too much he still didn’t know, far too many unanswered questions. He wouldn’t let his hopes rise until he knew more.

He’d turned down Megan just a few months ago, using his inability to have children as one of many excuses to end their budding relationship. In the end, it was best; Megan and Emery cared for each other, far more than either wanted to admit, even to themselves.

Malik and Sanawen entered, both splendid in their Guardian forms. Malik towered over any human, a monster of a man with cropped, golden waves hanging down the sides of his face. He had no facial hair, with well-defined jawbones and cheeks. And like all Guardians, white light glowed around him. Even in his human form, women thought he was handsome. At least that’s what the awestruck village girls had said.

Sanawen, the only female Guardian, had silver locks waving down the length of her back. Both she and Malik were dressed in armor: massive plate-covered chests; shining, light-infused bracers; and intricately decorated greaves covering their legs. They stood, side by side, examining Nolan.

“Master Nolan,” Malik said with a subtle nod. “How was your journey?”

Oh, I nearly died. And the townspeople were too afraid of me to even listen to reason. He sighed. “It was fine.”

Malik raised a single brow.

After a few moments, Kael arrived in his freshly pressed uniform consisting of a golden tunic, waist-length cape, leather jerkin, and knee-high boots fastened with a row of shiny brass buttons. He caught Nolan’s eyes, concern and tension lacing his emotions. “I hope this meeting isn’t about the rumors.”

“Rumors? What rumors?”

Kael scowled. “It’s hard to keep secrets in a place such as this, dear brother. Too many nosy Perception Rol’dan.”

Nolan wanted to ask more, but he hesitated when Emery entered with his aqua cloak flowing behind. He didn’t join them; instead, he walked past into an open door at the far side of the throne room. “Come on,” he said as he disappeared through the door.

The Guardians followed without comment. Kael, on the other hand, inhaled sharply, his posture stiffening.

“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked.

“Nothing,” Kael snapped. The lie reeked so thickly from him, Nolan hardly needed Empathy to feel it.

As soon as Nolan entered the room, he understood in horrific clarity. The ornate tapestries. The four-poster bed. It was straight from Megan’s dream. They stood in Alcandor’s bedchamber.

It’s where Alcandor had violated Megan, and Emery, and even Kael. It explained the reaction from his brother and why Emery had a trail of sweat running down his face and chin.

Emery’s hand shook as he pointed toward the door. “Close it.”

Malik obeyed.

“Why bring us in here?” Kael asked, his voice lowered, his teeth clenched.

Emery swiped his arm across his cheek. “The room’s walls are coated with Guardian steel. It’s the only place we can speak freely. It blocks all noise, including conversations Perception are able to hear.” His eyes glowed lightly, the purple light of his Empathy illuminating. “I’m sorry to bring you here, but it’s necessary.”

Emery’s soothing passed over them. Kael’s tense shoulders relaxed, but only slightly; his heartbeat slowed, and he released a slow sigh. His Empathy had helped everyone, except himself.

Emery took a stuttering breath, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Megan is with child.”

“What?” Kael said. “By Brim, it’s true?”

“What’s true, General?” Emery asked.

“The rumors.”

Emery’s brow furrowed. “Enlighten me.”

Kael’s mouth snapped closed. He pressed his lips together, hesitating.

“Out with it, General. What have you heard?”

“Your Majesty,” Kael said, “people are saying you’ve been bedding her.”

Emery cursed and ran a hand through his black hair. “And who’s spreading these rumors?”

“Why, nearly everyone, Your Majesty. There will be no surprise when you announce your child—”

“It’s not my child!”

The room fell silent. Nolan had never heard Emery yell before. When Emery had confronted him in the village, when he thought Nolan had been killing others to gain their powers—even then, Emery had a steady calm in his rage. It was nothing like the outburst of emotions from him now.

“Whose then?” Kael’s expression fell as realization hit him; his face paled.

Emery turned toward the Guardians. “Is it possible? Can a Guardian father a child?”

“It is possible,” Malik answered. “However, joining with a human is unwise and disrespectful.”

Kael snorted. “That’s never stopped Alcandor.”

Malik uncrossed his arms, fists at his side. “Alcandor? He has done this?”

“Can you tell us what kind of child it will be?” Emery asked, diverting the question. “Will it be … human?”

Malik’s white, glowing eyes flicked to Nolan. Both Kael’s and Emery’s heads turned toward Nolan, mouths open.

“Crows, Kael,” Nolan said. “We’re brothers, for Brim’s sake. Our parents are human.”

“I imagine the child would be something similar to Nolan,” Malik added. “However, the blood of a Guardian would run through the child’s veins. I have never known any Guardian child to survive the birth from a human mother. They all die with the mother.”

Nolan stepped back as if someone smacked him. He grabbed the bedpost, steadying as his head swam. Both mother and baby die? Any contemplation of a life with a girl—any girl—snuffed out in a puff of smoke. Then, the realization of a more pressing threat hit him. Megan will … die? He ran a hand over his chin, his head heavy and thick. What would they do?

Emery rubbed shaking hands together. “Can we remove it?”

“The child?” Malik asked. “No. In the past, all attempts proved fatal, for both mother and child.”

Emery closed his eyes, defeated. Then he opened them and stared at Kael intently. A spark of hope flared to life in him. “Maska. We need to speak with Maska.”

Kael brightened. “Of course. Maska. I’d almost forgotten.”

Emery forced a smile. “General, could you please—”

“I’ll get him immediately.” Kael’s eyes flared yellow, and he zipped away.

The rest of them waited, tense energy clouding the room. Nolan looked up, expecting to see Nass filling the ceiling, but saw nothing. Then he remembered what Brim had told him: Only those who have not taken the light produce them. He’d been so immersed with the common people of Renfrew, and their fresh supply of Nass, he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be without them again.

Emery paced, bringing Nolan’s attention to him again while they waited for Kael to return. What did Maska have to do with anything? How was Maska going to save her?

Nolan pulled on his Guardian abilities, wanting to read Emery; however, Emery fortified his mind like the stone walls of Faylinn.

His eyes flicked to Nolan’s. He didn’t say anything, but he gave Nolan a subtle shake of his head. Nolan pulled back, ashamed. Of course, Emery didn’t want him dipping into his mind. Especially not here. They stood in the room where Alcandor had abused Emery for seventeen years.

Finally, someone approached, their steps cutting across the throne room floor. Maska’s complaints echoed through the expanse of the room. Apparently, his mood hadn’t improved.

Kael entered first, followed by Maska. However, the moment Maska set foot inside the room, his posture stiffened. His dark eyes darted, flashing red with Strength. He muttered a Talasian word that sounded much like a curse.

He wore only leather breeches. No shirt. No shoes. Wet hair clung to his face, as if Kael had pulled him from a bath. He inhaled slowly before speaking. “Emery, why do you bring me here?”

Emery motioned to an overstuffed chair, but Maska stood erect, his muscled arms crossed tightly over his olive-colored chest. Kael closed the door, sealing their privacy.

“Thank you for coming, Maska,” Emery said. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only place where we can speak privately.”

A scowl fixed between Maska’s dark eyebrows. “What do you want?”

“What happened the night you were taken to this room?” Emery asked.

Maska’s head dropped, his gaze fixing to the ground.

“I know it’s hard, Maska. But it’s important.”

“Why?”

“Because Megan is with child.”

Maska’s head shot up. He stepped back, sitting hard in the chair Emery had offered him a moment before. Leaning over, he raked his hands through his damp hair and stared at the ornate rug under his feet.

“Is there any possibility the child could be yours, Maska?” Emery asked.

He didn’t answer. Emery put a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, but Maska jerked away.

After a long pause, he said, “Yes. The child could be mine.”

Emery laughed in relief.

Maska’s eyes narrowed. “And defiling the girl makes you happy?”

“I am relieved, not happy,” Emery said. “If the child is yours, Megan will live.”

The anger left Maska in a rush. “What do you mean?”

Sanawen, the Guardian, stepped forward. “If the child belongs to Alcandor, it will kill her.”

“And if it’s a half-breed bastard, she will live?”

“If she is lucky, yes,” Emery said.

Maska growled and turned, using his muscled back as a wall. “My Strength broke her bones while I took her. She healed, and I broke her again … and again.”

“You’re a victim, just like Megan,” Emery said calmly, though his face paled. “Alcandor controlled you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Nolan knew Megan had endured a lot that night; the small vision from her dream unnerved him. However, the thought of Maska hurting her, especially in that way, made his stomach turn sour.

“So how will we know?” Maska asked. “Is there a way to find out whose child she carries?”

“None,” Malik said. “We will have to wait and see.”

“So what if the child is Alcandor’s?” Kael asked.

“Well,” Emery said, “we’ll hope her Healing Shay can save her during the birth.”

“But, Your Majesty,” Kael said. “The rumors. When they learn of a child, they will assume it’s yours.”

Resignation surged from Emery. “Well then. I suppose I should marry her.”

“And if it comes out dark-skinned?” Maska added.

Emery smiled weakly. “We’ll deal with the scandal when the time comes.”

Of course, that was the logical thing to do. At least circumstance forced them together—they loved each other anyway. However, Nolan couldn’t break away from his own selfish reflections. Not only could he never marry—unless he potentially sentenced his bride to death—he wouldn’t risk being intimate with any woman.

He swallowed hard. He was sentenced to a life of celibacy.

Nolan retreated to the far corner of the room, next to a statue of a nude woman made of gold. The others continued to discuss the situation. Maska even joined them, though he kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

How could I be so selfish? I should be happy for my friends, shouldn’t I? Emery loves her, though nobody knows about it except for me. And Megan loves Emery as well. So why did it upset him? If it would save her honor, it would be a good thing, the right thing. Emery was a good man, even a king! And the fact they both loved each other should be enough, shouldn’t it? He should be happy for them. But Nolan wasn’t happy at all. Instead, jealousy leeched through his veins.

“What if she doesn’t want to marry you?” The words slipped from Nolan’s lips before he could stop them.

Emery looked across the room at Nolan and met his gaze. His eyes pulsed with violet light, his Empathy digging through Nolan’s brain. “Then I will respect her wishes.”

“Does she even realize what happened?” Maska asked, his voice low. “I often wonder if she remembers, for she looks at me as a friend, instead of a monster.”

“You are a friend,” Emery said sadly.

“You would change your mind if you had seen.”

“If she doesn’t remember, Your Majesty,” Kael said, “take her to bed and pretend the child is yours. Maybe take her several times, to make certain … after the wedding, of course.”

Emery flushed, his teeth grinding. Panic surged from his emotions. “I think it best we start our marriage with truth, don’t you think?”

“Be a good way to make the best of the situation.”

“Is that all you ever think about?” Nolan said, harsher than he’d intended.

Kael shrugged. “There are worse ways to occupy one’s mind.”

Emery sighed. “I will speak to Megan.”

“What will you tell her?” Nolan asked.

“The truth … partially. That you sensed the child inside her.”

“And what about the risks?”

“She can’t know. Not now, at least. Her mind has been troubled enough.” Emery scanned their faces, his jaw tense. “And none of you will mention this meeting, either. Brim save us if she discovers we’ve talked about her without her knowledge.”

They all nodded. Nobody wanted to get on Megan’s bad side.

“And your marriage offer?” Nolan asked, choking out the words.

Emery leaned toward him. “It’s one option.”

One option. What other options does she have?

With an abrupt dismissal, Maska and Kael left. The Guardians bowed, and then they strolled through the door, leaving Nolan and Emery alone. Nolan expected Emery to leave next; instead, he lingered, examining Nolan. Then he closed the door, shutting them inside.

“There’s more you want to say?” Emery asked. “Would you rather make an offer to Megan?”

Nolan started. “Me? Of course not.”

“Why? You care for her.”

“She’s my friend. It doesn’t mean I want to marry her.”

“I felt jealousy coming from you earlier. I thought that perhaps—”

“Perhaps what? I was jealous because you can get married. I can’t. You heard what Malik said: A Guardian child could kill her. I can’t marry anyone. I can’t be with anyone. Ever.”

“If she lives through Alcandor’s child, she can possibly live through others.”

Nolan snorted. “And you’d want her to take that risk? She needs a human, not a Guardian.” A weight pushed on his chest.

“You’re not a Guardian,” Emery said.

“I’m half Guardian—or something similar, I suppose. Who knows what kind of monster I’d make. If she lives through this first birth, I could kill her with the next one.”

“Unless you are married by name alone.”

Nolan blinked. “You mean, marry her but not touch her?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of marriage is that?”

Humiliation hung thick on Emery’s emotions. “It would be the same if I married her.”

“Why?”

“I have told you before, Nolan. I’ll never subject any woman to my past. I just … can’t.”

“Megan would understand. She’d be patient.”

“Never,” Emery said.

“If you give yourself more time to heal—”

“Never.” Emery’s posture stiffened. “Especially Megan. Besides, you’re young. I’m old.”

Nolan snorted. “I’m three years too young. I’m seventeen. She’s twenty.”

“Three years is better than eighteen. Nolan, I’m nearly twice her age.”

Nolan shrugged, feigning indifference. “Thirty-eight isn’t that old. What difference is age when you both love each other?”

Emery tensed. He peered over his shoulder, even though they were alone. Nobody knew Emery’s feelings for her, except for Nolan. Turning, frustration and pain emanated from his emotions. He released a long sigh. “She cares for you—”

“As friends, Emery. She loves you.”

Emery’s arms drooped, and his shoulders sagged. Abruptly, he straightened, his brown eyes fixing on Nolan’s. “Just listen, friend … ”

Nolan crossed his arms over his chest. Emery was doing his best to avoid a happy life with Megan. No matter what Emery said, it wouldn’t work; he’d just have to suck up his fears and marry the girl he loved.

“You and Megan can learn to love each other. You almost did before; you can do it again. And if she lives, if she can handle the birth, then you can be together, always. In the meantime, you can consummate the marriage now, at least these next months. You can’t harm her if she is already with child.” Emery’s emotions filled with sorrow. “And if she dies, at least you both found some intimacy and comfort in that short amount of time.”

Nolan gawked, his arms slipping to his sides. He opened his mouth to object, but couldn’t. Everything Emery said was true. He could be with Megan, at least now.

He turned his back on Emery, embarrassment bubbling from inside him. How could he even consider it? Besides, what about Kat? There had been something happening between them—even if he was too stubborn to admit it out loud. However, if he could never be with a woman, did he want to string the poor girl along? Maybe it was best to end it all now.

Megan was pretty. He had liked her at one point; with time, he probably could again. When would another opportunity present itself? Nolan grabbed his head, growling. This was not a reason for marriage, even if it might be his only chance to be with a woman.

He turned back to Emery, whose eyes were glowing violet, watching, waiting for Nolan’s response.

Nolan sighed. “Emery—”

“Don’t answer me now.” He placed one hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “Just think about it? I will speak to her, tell her of the child, and then I will propose a marriage. However, be prepared. She will most likely come to you before she makes her decision.”

Chapter Nine

NOLAN DIPPED HIS QUILL into the dark ink and placed it on the empty parchment, hesitating … lingering … stalling. He’d volunteered to write to Flann, but how in the Darkness would he break the news to Megan’s overprotective brother? A baby? A wedding? There wasn’t a good way to do it! Nolan ran a hand over his face, and a soft groan escaped his lips. At least it would take Flann several weeks to get to Faylinn, giving him time to cool down.

Nolan was supposed to wait until Emery had spoken to Megan, wait until Megan made her decision before he told Flann she was marrying Emery. But Nolan already knew what she’d decide. How could she refuse the man she’d secretly loved for years?

A knot twisted in his chest at the thought of losing his last chance for marriage and family and … other things. Maybe he should make her a proposition. It wasn’t too late. Cursing, he shoved the idea down where it came from: into the exaggerated fantasies of his mind.

A frantic knock sounded at his door. He froze, quill hovering above the ink.

“Nolan!” came an exaggerated whisper. “It’s me … Megan.”

Nolan set the quill on the desktop and ran his fingertip over the shaft of the feather. Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t there; he’d sit quietly and wait for her to go away. But he heard her feet shifting, her hands wringing as she waited. Standing, he wiped his hands on his breeches. Best to get it over with.

He opened the door, and Megan stood in the hall, eyes red. A nightgown hung loosely over her slumped shoulders, and her brown hair framed her face in a matted mane. She entered without waiting for an offer and closed the door behind her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door, desperation oozing from her emotions. Nolan could feel a question lingering on her lips.

“Are you okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Search me again!” she blurted. “Make sure it’s real.”

“The baby?”

She nodded slowly.

Nolan hesitated, suddenly feeling invasive. Sucking in a slow breath, he summoned his Perception Shay, and his senses sharpened, including the smell of rose-scented soap on her skin. It distracted him, but he refocused on her heartbeat. Then on the softer, quicker thrumming inside her. She stared at him, expectant, hopeful.

Nolan sighed. “It’s there.”

Her hands fell limply at her sides. Hope and grief pulsed from her, flickering back and forth from one to the other. The grief he understood. The hope—not so much. What hope did she have when everything in her world was falling apart? How could she hope when she carried a monster’s baby inside her? The blood of Alcandor. Maybe her hope stemmed from something else.

He cleared his throat. “Did Emery make an offer?”

“Of marriage? Yes.”

He waited for her to say more, but she only stared at him. Intense, green eyes watching.

“And … did you give him an answer?”

“No. Not yet.”

Silence stretched painfully until Nolan finally said, “Do you want to get married? You could always go back to the village with Flann. No one would judge you there.”

She bit her lip. “No. They’d judge. They may say nothing, but they would certainly think it. Flann reads people extremely well. Can you imagine his mood after he’d sensed them?”

Flann’s Empathy was strong. She was right. The villagers wouldn’t have to say a word. Flann would know.

“They are kind,” Megan said, her voice breaking. “But society doesn’t take to fatherless children. Marriage is my best option.” She caught his gaze again, staring intently.

Why is she looking at me like that? He avoided her gaze, doing his best to rearrange the perfectly stacked papers on his desk. After shuffling his quills a second, then a third time, he raised his face. She still stared.

“What?” he sighed.

She didn’t speak, frustration leaching from her. “What about us?” she finally said.

“What do you mean us?”

“Us, Nolan. Us!” She closed the distance and grabbed his hand; it felt so small in his. “Emery thinks I need to get married, but he said it doesn’t have to be him.”

“Megan, we’ve gone over this before … ”

She straightened and jutted her chin. “Emery already told me the truth.”

“Truth,” Nolan spat. “What truth?”

“You love me. Emery told me so.”

Nolan jerked back; his breath hitched. Emery told her … what? What in the Darkness was he thinking?

“And don’t give me that pathetic half-human excuse you gave me last time. Or worse yet, some explanation about taking the stones out into the world.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I know about that Kat ‘thing’ in my room last night. Emery told me you were trying to make me jealous.”

Nolan blinked, stunned. Emery even lied about Kat? How can I defend that? Not without telling her the truth. “But I am half-human,” he spat, flinging out the easiest objection to come to mind. “That’s not an excuse, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re strong. A good worker. Loyal to your friends … You’re more man than every soldier in this stupid army. You’re smart too, though you can be an arrogant arse about that sometimes … ”

Nolan opened his mouth, then closed it. Did she just call me arrogant? He inhaled, ignoring the jab. He needed to approach this from another angle. “If you married me, I couldn’t touch you like a husband.”

She stared at him, her defiance deflating. “Why not?”

He started to answer, to tell her of the danger, that he could also implant a child of death inside her, but he bit his lip. She didn’t know that part. And he wouldn’t be the one to break it to her.

“I saw you,” Megan added. “You’re normal enough. The transformation didn’t affect you all that much.”

Nolan stared at her, confused.

She cleared her throat, dropping her head shyly. “I saw you in the infirmary after the cleansing. You know … unclothed.”

Heat rushed to his face. Brim, he’d almost forgotten. Almost. “I don’t mean … ” His face reddened more. “Oh, Meg. I just can’t.”

Sorrow lingered on her emotions. “Is it because I’m soiled?”

Nolan’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, no, no. It isn’t that.”

“I don’t understand.” She reached for his hand. “At least you’d love me.”

He moved his hand away. “Oh, Megan. That’s the problem. I don’t love you.”

“Yes you do,” Megan said, defiant. “Emery told me.”

“And Emery is a nightforsaken liar!”

She blinked. “He … he lied?”

Nolan ran a hand over his chin. What was Emery doing? Why put him in this position? For Brim’s sake, Emery loved her. Why lie? Sure, being with a woman tempted Nolan—how could it not tempt him? But not like this.

Megan’s emotions sank. The desperate hope she emanated before sank into despair.

Nolan released an exaggerated sigh and took her limp hands in his. “What about Emery?”

“Emery?” she said numbly.

“Emery. Didn’t he propose marriage?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Emery feels responsible. There are rumors he’s been visiting me, and because of it, they’ll believe the child is his. He should’ve never crept into my room. Now, he’s stuck with these dumb rumors. Of course, he wants to do the right thing, but I won’t let him marry me for guilt and responsibility. He does that sort of thing: sacrificing himself for everyone else. Besides, I’m like a daughter—or a little sister—to him. He’ll marry me to protect me. I want to marry for love.”

“But you love him.”

“You read me?”

“It’s not hard to tell.”

Her face flushed, and tears filled her eyes. “I can’t marry Emery. I-I love him, but it’s only a crush. A foolish, girlish crush that won’t go away. I can’t marry him. He’s only trying to protect me. I have to move on. I have to let him go.”

“Oh, Megan. He loves you too.”

She yanked her hands from his. “He does not. My brother told me. He doesn’t love me, at least not like that.”

“Emery’s mind is strong. He hides things. He blocked his thoughts from your brother.” Nolan tapped his temple, smiling sadly. “But my Empathy is stronger than his.”

Her jaw opened slightly. She leaned forward, emotions hopeful. “You sensed him?”

Nolan nodded.

She hesitated, as if afraid of asking. “And?”

“And Emery Cadogan is head-over-heels smitten with you.”

She snorted, placing a hand on her hip. “He has an odd way of showing it. He knows how I’ve felt for years, so why would he hide?”

“Because he believes he’s not good enough for you. He said he’s too old and too damaged.”

Silence filled the room.

“He believes … what?” Anger leaked from her in thick, rolling waves. “Not good enough? Damaged? How in Brim’s name is he not good enough and damaged? I’m the one who’s damaged, and he’s not good enough for me?”

She paced, her emotions growing more volatile with each stomp of her bare feet. “He rejected me because he believed he wasn’t good enough? He knew I loved him. I opened myself up, but he ignored me.”

“He did offer to marry you,” Nolan reminded her.

“He suggested,” she said. “And then shoved me off on you.”

Nolan flinched as though he’d been slapped. She just begged me to marry her. Now she acts like marrying me revolted her.

She stopped pacing and pointed at him. “How long have you known?”

“A few months. I couldn’t break through his mind until after my transformation.”

“But he said you loved me.”

“I care for you, Megan. You’re my friend. You always will be. But no. I don’t love you, not like that.”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “Nolan … he lied?”

Nolan huffed and rolled his eyes. “I already told you that, if you had bothered listening.”

“But he didn’t just lie about you,” she continued. “He lied about how he truly felt. About everything.”

Nolan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Sure, Nolan had revealed Emery’s little secret—his big secret, actually. It was Emery’s fault for keeping it in the first place. He’d lied to her—and manipulated Nolan—just to avoid sharing his true feelings, all because he was too much of a coward to admit to it. He had even used that awkward moment with Kat to his advantage!

Nolan frowned. At this point, he didn’t give a rat’s backside what happened when she confronted him. Emery had dug his own grave. Megan deserved to know the truth after all these years.

Anger left Megan in a rush. She opened her mouth, as if wanting to say something. Guilt poured from her as she fixed her eyes on him. “I’m so sorry, Nolan.”

“It’s okay,” Nolan lied. “I’m fine.”

She closed the distance and placed her hands on his arms. Before he could say anything, she pulled him down, and her lips met his.

It was a gentle kiss. A goodbye kiss. Her warm breath mingled with his, her soft lips salty from her tears. She pulled away, her emotions flicking from one thing to another. She touched his cheek. “You are more than half a man, you know,” she whispered. “You’ll make someone really happy someday.”

His throat clenched, unable to reply.

She smiled sadly. “Thank you.”

And with that, she turned and left, her emotions building for conflict. Nolan considered flaring Perception to hear that fight. Wonder how Emery will lie his way out of it this time.

Nolan sank into his chair, his limbs heavy, his emotions drained. Picking up his quill, he held it over his letter to Flann. He forced a bitter laugh as he thought about the confidence in Megan’s words.

“No, Megan,” he answered to his empty room. “I won’t make anyone happy. I’ll always be alone.”

Chapter Ten

ALEC GRIPPED THE WOODEN RAIL on the boat as it dipped and swayed. Back and forth the boat rocked, over and over. He closed his eyes, but it only made it worse. It was as if he’d been trotting on a broken-down horse for days.

His stomach lurched, threatening to empty over the side of the boat for the tenth time that day. Alec had fought battles, been burned by the heat of a forge, and sliced by swords. By Brim, he’d even died once, having been stabbed through the heart. But nothing had prepared him for this.

The boat pitched, and Alec’s knuckles whitened on the rails. The slow journey was bringing him to madness, not to mention the fact he could barely keep the strange Talasian foods down. Nolan had often talked of the sea, how he loved it: the beauty of waves, the boat gliding across the water, and the smell of fish wafting up to greet him. Alec scowled. In his opinion, Nolan didn’t know what the Darkness he was talking about.

A wave lapped up, splashing water on his feet and sending droplets to his bare chest. Alec flinched, his muscles tensing with the cold. He’d tossed his tunic over the side days ago; it had smelled so bad, with sweat and vomit, he couldn’t stand wearing it any longer. It made little difference on the boat, anyway. The Talasian soldiers were practically naked most of the time. And their emotionless stares never gave away their disgust with Alec’s scars.

He remembered his first scar, at the age of eight. His father had shoved a sword into his hand. A few minutes later, Alec sat on the floor of the armory, crying as blood gushed from his wound. Kardos, his father, told him to stop crying, to be a man. He bound his arm and made him stand and fight again.

Alec traced a finger across a scar above his wrist, buried under many others, nearly too many to count. Not to mention those on his chest, back, face, and even on his upper thighs and shins. They seemed countless, but Alec remembered how he had received each and every one.

The ship rolled, and Alec’s stomach lurched. He leaned over the edge, jaws locked open, body tense, but his stomach was too empty to comply. He gripped the rails, digging his nails into the wood. He considered flinging himself into the turbulent waters and being done with it, once and for all.

A presence joined him, and a white cloth appeared next to his face. Alec’s body relaxed as the moment passed. He took the cloth and wiped the drool from his chin, meeting Greer’s concerned eyes.

“Do you need another treatment, Master Alec?” Greer asked.

Alec groaned and nodded.

Greer touched his arm, and a pulse of Healing went through him. The illness churning his stomach lessened, and Alec’s shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t sure how Greer did it, but he was grateful, even if it only lasted a short time.

Alec pushed off the railing and turned from Greer, yelling a “Thank you!” over his shoulder as he sped away. He had a short window to eat before he got sick again. He turned at some stairs, catching the eyes of several higher-ranking warriors. Tattoos covered their arms and faces, strange markings Alec still didn’t quite understand. He descended into the guts of the ship and, for now, the aroma of food didn’t make his stomach heave.

The ship was unornamented but well crafted. The timbers had a blue tint, unlike any of the lumber in Adamah. In an adjacent room, through a solid blue-tinted door, a shift of oarsmen changed assignments. A line of warriors waited for the rowing room to empty before they took the others’ places. The warriors emerged sweaty from their efforts but didn’t seem overly exhausted. The work of the oars toned their muscles under their tattooed, dark skin.

Alec cursed as the warriors immediately took a place in line. Not that he didn’t think they deserved it. They obviously worked hard at rowing. But they’d gotten in front of him, and if he waited too long, he might not be able to eat at all.

The warriors didn’t speak much, except for occasional comments in the strange Talasian language. The warriors didn’t fight. They didn’t laugh. It wasn’t natural.

Alec shifted from one foot to another, impatient. The warriors turned and stared. They always stared. It was as if Alec’s emotions were some sort of stage act. And, of course, when it came to Alec, the warriors had a performance for the entire day. He scowled. All the staring made him self-conscious and grumpy, which made the savages stare even more.

Finally, Alec reached the front of the line. Four Talasians, similar to Alec’s age, served yellow grain over a hunk of unidentifiable dried meat. It looked revolting, but Alec needed food. His stomach even growled a bit.

He went to the nearest person who was readying a wooden plate. He stopped, staring. For instead of a boy, a girl stood before him. Her straight, black hair hung midway down her back. It was the darkest, shiniest hair Alec had ever seen. She wore a simple white dress that dramatically contrasted to her skin, and gold bands twisted up her arms. She didn’t have any tattoos, like the boys their age. And her toes were adorned in gold rings. Why in Brim’s sake did he look at her toes? He scanned the room, noticing the lack of females on this ship. Apart from the annoying gypsy, he hadn’t seen a woman or girl since they left Renfrew. What was she doing here?

Her head rose from preparing the plate, and she met his eyes. Surprise flicked across her face, but she masked it away.

Her dark eyes fixed on his hair first. She’d probably never seen blond hair or curls before. They locked eyes briefly, and then hers shifted, trailing the path of the scar that ran through his face. It was red still, Alec knew. It hadn’t completely healed from his battle with Kael Trividar a few months ago.

The presence of her hand on his chest startled him. He jerked back, releasing the plate. Her gaze fixated on his chest, particularly where she had touched him. It was the scar where he’d died, the one where Taryn had healed him and sacrificed her life for his.

He yanked the plate away from the Talasian girl, murmuring a thank you, and then he scanned the room. Warriors sat in groups on hand-woven mats, eating with their hands. They stared at him, as usual. Constantly staring. Why in the Darkness do they always stare? Don’t they have anything better to do? He knew the nightforsaken savages had emotions; he’d seen Maska reveal them recently. So why did they pretend to feel nothing?

Anger flooded through him. He felt it coming, knew he should get some control, but he was too tired. Too seasick. Too sad over Taryn’s death. He really didn’t give a rat’s backside what they thought of him anymore.

“Quit looking at me!” he yelled.

The soft conversation in the room quieted. The stares increased.

He flared his Shay, knowing yellow, glowing eyes would give them something to talk about. A few eyebrows rose. Alec smiled, satisfied. He wasn’t sure if his emotions or his Shay of Speed was more strange to them; both were foreign to the Talasians. However, Maska had Strength; Alec wasn’t sure why the savages on this ship seemed void of any Shay powers. He’d have to ask Greer later, sometime when he was well enough to speak rather than hanging over the side of the ship.

He headed to the farthest corner, shoveling the strange food into his mouth as he went. The effects of Greer’s treatment were already wearing off. More than likely, this slop would end up feeding the fish instead.

Taking off his sword, he planted himself in the corner, facing away from the others. The boat rocked under him, and he pretended to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He ate, swallowing the grain nearly whole. The meat tasted pretty good, tender for being dried. It was better than eating fish—which they served far too often. He took his time eating, enjoying the flavor of something besides vomit.

Examining the boat, he tried not to think about the wall as the only separator between him and the infernal water. The blue tinted wood had darker shades of blue winding through it. He wondered what kind of trees provided the wood. The workmanship of the boat was good, not what one might expect from a group of brainless savages.

He continued to eat and study the wood grain, pretending a whole group of warriors didn’t gawk at the back of his head. A figure appeared in front of him, blocking his sight. The gypsy, Jezebelle, slid down the wall facing him, extending her long legs on either side of him.

He scooted away quickly, feeling heat rise to his face.

“You move fast, don’t you?” She leaned toward him.

Alec swallowed and averted his eyes.

“Oh, come now, Alec. You’re nearly a man. Matter of fact, if you were Talasian, you’d be a man already.” A mischievous grin pulled on her lips. “They reach manhood at fourteen years. And you are … sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Fifteen,” Alec answered.

“Fifteen!” she said. “See! You’re a man already.”

“If I was thirty, I still wouldn’t be interested in you.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her breast in mock surprise. “Oh, Alec! You offend me!”

“Not likely.” He shoveled more food into his mouth, trying to finish quickly.

She smiled, obviously not offended. “I am a business woman. I run a traveling show of oddities with my friends, touring the countryside.” She eyed him. “It’s too bad you are so attractive; you’d make a good addition.”

Alec snorted, filling his cheek with grain.

“You’d be surprised what the Talasians say, Sun Warrior.”

His head rose from his empty plate and met her smug grin. “What’d you call me?”

“Sun Warrior.” Jezebelle stood, flipped a braid over her shoulder, and walked away.

Alec gawked at her retreating back. What the Darkness was she talking about? As much as he couldn’t stand her, she’d prodded him in the right direction this time. He grabbed his sword and strapped it on as he followed.

She meandered, as if expecting him. When he came beside her, she only grinned.

Alec huffed. “What do they say?”

“What does who say?”

“For Brim’s sake, woman. What do they say?”

She stopped and turned, her eyes raking over him before landing on his face. “They wonder how—for one so young—you can be so scarred. They call you Sun Warrior because of your wounds, and because your eyes glow like the light of the sun.” She shrugged. “I told them I had no idea why you are marred. I figured your scars were the result of whip lashes. Perhaps you’d been a slave.”

Alec gawked. A slave? He exhaled slowly, doing his best not to explode. “And that’s what you tell them?”

“Well, since you haven’t shared … ”

Alec stepped up to her, his anger flaring. “I’ve fought in several battles. Since the age of eight, I’ve had a sword shoved into my hand daily. And each of those days, my father showed me, the hard way, how to fight.” He touched the scar on his wrist. “This was my first, at eight years old. This …” He touched his chest. “… is when I died. And this …” He touched his face. “ … is when I murdered a man.”

She blinked, visibly surprised.

“So the next time you flirt with the warriors, don’t make up stories, especially about me.” He turned, glancing at the girl serving the food as he headed toward the stairs. If the gossiping savages thought him to be a sun warrior, then “Sun Warrior” he would be.

Ten minutes later, the Sun Warrior leaned over the rails of the boat, emptying his meal into the sea.

Chapter Eleven

ALEC DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG he sat there, wishing he’d chewed his food better. It was worse this time, if at all possible. His stomach twisted in knots even without the help of the waves. Memories of Taryn and the rumors of him being a slave gnawed at his insides.

Not that he cared what the savages thought of him, but how could she call him a slave? Sometimes, when he worked with his dad, he felt like a slave. His father never whipped him; he got all his scars fairly—as if a child sparring with an adult was fair. His father never forced injuries on him. It was always up to Alec—even if mismatched—to protect himself.

He rested his forehead against the railing, dangling his legs over the edge. Cold water splashed on his feet, leaving his toes numb and tingling. He closed his eyes, and images of Taryn came to mind. He tried to forget her, but the memories of his death crept in, no matter how hard he pushed them away.

He saw brightness but felt no pain. The light drew him, and contentment washed over him. But before the peace took him completely, his pain returned, his chest burning. The unnatural light faded, replaced by the sun on his closed eyelids. He gasped, awakening to the view of a blue sky. His lungs burned, as if they’d forgotten how to work.

He’d remembered fighting General Trividar; he sat up, alert and ready to continue the battle. It was then when he had noticed her, lying on the ground, hand open, arms limp and outstretched toward him. Mud-coated blond curls splayed around her, covering her upturned face. Deep crimson stained the front of her chest and pooled around her, fresh and soaking in the grass where she lay. She twitched twice and then lay still.

Alec jerked his eyes open, gasping, wiping away fresh tears. Brim curse the stupid girl! Why did she have to have Healing Shay? Why had she traded her life for his useless one? The others spoke of how brave she’d been, praising her courage to do what was necessary. They’d said that because of her, Alec had gotten word to the others. She’d helped save them all. So why did Alec feel so guilty?

A presence appeared next to him. He looked up, hoping to see Greer. He needed some relief from this nightforsaken illness. Instead, the girl from the serving line squatted next to him, her eyes studying his face. Alec gawked, his mouth open. How long had she watched him? He turned away, scrubbing away traitorous tears. He’d been sobbing like a little girl.

She tapped his arm.

He ignored her. She’d go away eventually.

She tapped again.

He stared at the sea, and his stomach rose and fell along with a wave.

She yanked him around.

He glared, intending to tell her off, but she shoved a cup into his hand. A pottery of sorts, with painted, tribal designs along the edge, rested in his palm. He stared at it and drew back to chuck it into the sea.

She grabbed his arm. She was a lot stronger than she seemed.

“Tukeenek!” she said.

He stopped. “Tu … what?”

She yanked the cup from his hand, brought it to her lips, and took a sip. “Tukeenek.” She handed it back to him.

He eyed her suspiciously.

She sighed. “Tukeenek.”

“You want me to drink?”

She studied him, and then said, “Trink?”

Alec snorted a laugh, but he stopped as nausea came over him. He waved the offered cup away and assumed his most frequent position of leaning over the rails. But before the illness could take hold, the girl shoved the cup to his mouth and tipped it back. Warm, spicy liquid splashed down his face and over his chest. He swallowed and coughed, gagging on the drink.

Alec clenched his fist. How dare she! His rage abruptly stopped as he realized his nausea passed. She held out the half-filled cup, her face smug. Could a Talasian be smug?

“Trink,” she said.

He stared at the cup … and then he chugged the remainder. Warm fluid spread down his throat, coating his stomach in sweet relief. It was an odd flavor, but not bad. Not bad at all.

He relaxed his shoulders and smiled. “Oh! Thank Brim!”

“Brrim,” she repeated. She touched his chest, pointing. “Brrim?”

“Did you just call me a god?”

“Brrim?” she asked again.

“Darkness no.” He put his hand to his chest. “I’m Alec.”

“Eleak.”

He smiled. “Close enough.”

***

The minutes crept by, and she quietly stood next to him at the rail. He expected the pleasant, non-sickness wouldn’t last; however, the longer he waited, the better he felt.

His stomach rumbled, this time with hunger pains. He frowned. Even if he was hungry, the grain and meat dish had tasted a lot better going down than coming up. He didn’t want to rush down the stairs to eat it again.

He glanced at his hands, realizing he still held the cup. He offered it back. “Thanks. Can’t tell you how much—”

She reached up and touched his lips.

He yanked back. Why did she keep touching him? Then she traced her own lips and pulled up the corners in a pathetic version of a smile.

Alec grinned.

She stared at him, her dark eyes combing his face, studying his smile.

“Oh, you poor girl. If I am the most interesting thing you’ve seen, then you have had a sad life, indeed.”

His smile quickly faded when her eyes dropped to his chest. He could see her studying him, examining his scars. He crossed his arms in a feeble attempt to hide them, but his arms were more scarred than his chest. He remembered when Taryn had examined him in a similar way. Although, when Taryn had looked at his scars, it had been brief. This girl studied him so intently, heat rose to his face.

Her eyes shifted to his face. She touched his cheek, studying the blush most assuredly tinting his skin. This, of course, made him even more embarrassed, and the heat traveled down his neck.

He turned away, his back to her, probably giving her a pretty good view of the scars there. By Brim, what was with this girl? What was she doing here, anyway? Why didn’t she leave him instead of standing around here silently examining him? How did he interest her? He stared at the sea, pretending she wasn’t there. After taking a few deep breaths, he turned around. The girl was gone.

He scanned the deck. A few Talasian soldiers walked by, gawking. Where was she? Across the boat, the gypsy came toward him. Whatever good mood he’d started to gain plummeted. Oh, for Brim’s sake! What does she want?

He considered flaring his Speed and taking off, but her usual flirtatious expression was gone. She seemed annoyed even, enough to make him curious. As she closed the distance, she glared at him in disgust.

“King Kamalin has requested your presence for dinner.”

“When?” he asked. He was a bit hungry.

“Soon,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Which means I need to go as well, I suppose.”

“What?” he said. “You don’t have somewhere better to go? Some savage to visit in his room?”

She smacked him across the face, and his ears rang. Pain never felt so good.

She leaned in, pointing. “What I do in my time is none of your business, boy. Best you keep your comments to yourself.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

She drew back, but Alec flared his Speed, watching her hand as if moving in slow motion. He moved to the side as her momentum propelled her path to slap him again. However, with nothing there to stop her, she twirled quite spectacularly, losing her balance and nearly falling on the deck. She blinked, confused. When her eyes finally found him, she sneered.

Alec smiled. “Don’t touch me.”

Again, he brought forth Speed, disappeared from the deck, and headed to his room—faster than the gawking savages could see him. He did have one other problem he still didn’t know how to solve: What in the Darkness would he wear to dine with a king?

***

When he arrived back at his quarters, Greer was in the process of laying clothes on Alec’s bed.

“Sorry to intrude,” Greer said. “I took the liberty to make you a new outfit.”

Alec stared at it. “Where did you … ? How did … ?”

“I bought a few supplies before we left.”

“You bought me clothes?”

“No, Master Alec. I bought supplies.”

“And you made me clothes.”

“Correct.”

Alec joined him at the bed, fingering the new outfit. He didn’t even know the Guardian could sew. He froze, a question forming in his mind. “Wait. If you could make clothes, why didn’t you do something for Nolan?”

“I attempted to learn when you found the pair of breeches for him. I spent some time at the tailor’s, observing his skills.” He cocked his head. “Do they meet your satisfaction, Master Alec?”

Even if it was only a white tunic and brown breeches, it was well made, better than Alec had before. “They’re great. Thanks.”

Greer smiled, obviously pleased with Alec’s gratitude. He pointed to the short desk in the corner of the room where a bowl of water steamed. “I assumed you would appreciate these as well.”

A washrag lay folded next to it, along with a chunk of soap. Soap? Praise Brim! Alec had been longing for soap.

“I will wait outside while you prepare yourself. We do not have long until the meal with the king.”

Greer moved to leave, but Alec caught his arm. “Wait. You know about that?”

Greer smiled, his old eyes crinkling. “I have been listening, trying to learn the language. I have deciphered a good deal of it, although there are some words I do not yet understand. You see, they have a smaller alphabet than the people of Adamah, and there are far more consonants—”

“Wait! You can translate?” Alec interrupted.

“For the most part, I believe so, yes.”

Alec grinned. “So when can we throw Jezebelle into the sea?”

Greer shook his head. “Master Alec. I know you do not get along with her, but we must do our best to maintain some civility until we reach our destination. I have noticed, however, her interpretations are not as accurate as they should be.”

“So she’s making things up?”

“I believe so, yes,” Greer responded. “I am curious of her intentions. For now, let us pretend I do not understand the conversations.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated. “Do you need a Healing draft again, Master Alec?”

“I’m fine, Greer. Thanks.”

“So the tea worked well then?”

Alec gawked. “So you had something to do with that?”

“Of course not, Master Alec. I only witnessed the exchange.”

Alec turned from Greer. What had he seen?

“Let me know when you are ready, and we will make our way to the dining chamber.”

Alec heard Greer open and close the door, leaving him alone for the first time all day.

When Alec had first been assigned his room, he thought it was odd he had a bed. He figured that, because of the skins the Talasians wore, they would be primitive in all things. The small room consisted of a wood-framed bed adorned with warm furs, a short desk with a chair more like a pillow on the ground, and various pieces of artwork on the walls. Animals Alec didn’t recognize were on one of the images. On another, a mountain landscape, not too unlike Adamah, stretched the expanse of the canvas. The artist had painted with broad, abstract strokes. He stared at that one frequently, wondering about the differences between Talasi and Adamah.

Alec squatted next to the obscenely short desk to wash. He undressed and threw the dirty breeches in the corner. As he scrubbed away the grime of his last week of illness, he glanced occasionally at the door, hoping nobody would randomly barge in. It had happened before, in less … revealing circumstances. Even Jezebelle had flung open his door on occasion. Privacy was not common here.

Alec dressed quickly, relief flooding over him. The new clothes fit quite well. He glared at the soiled piece of clothing in the corner. After some consideration, he rubbed them with the soap and left them in the bowl to soak. He didn’t want to be that filthy again, especially if the girl brought him more tea …

No. He didn’t want to see her. Not that he didn’t find her pleasant to look at, but she made him so self-conscious, almost like when he’d first met Taryn.

He sucked in a breath, anger flooding him. How could he compare this little savage to Taryn? He couldn’t compare them. This Talasian didn’t even know how to smile. What kind of girl couldn’t smile?

He strapped on his sword. Well, he would have to stay away from her, take food from one of the other servers. Maybe Greer could find out more about this tea; he hadn’t felt this good since he’d set sail on this Brim-forsaken ship. Yes, he would avoid the girl. He’d go the other direction if she came toward him again. He wouldn’t let her touch him anymore, wouldn’t let her study his face or try to learn his language. And hopefully, once they landed, he would never see her again.

Chapter Twelve

A PAIR OF TALASIAN WARRIORS STOOD outside the room, flanking either side of the door. Stone-tipped spears crossed over dark, muscled chests. Tattoos traveled over their torsos, spreading up their shoulders and snaking across their arms. The warrior on the right even had tattoos invading his emotionless face. From what Alec had learned of their culture, he assumed the tattoos represented rank. These two were decorated more than a bakery cake in Alton. They were likely two of the most powerful warriors of the tribe.

Greer waited for him, standing near the pair of warriors. He’d dressed up more than usual; the wrinkles were missing from his typically crumpled shirt. He had combed his few remaining strands of gray hair and tacked it with water or oil. He smiled at Alec, giving him an encouraging nod as they headed toward the open door.

They passed the warriors—who didn’t even seem to notice them—into an unexpectedly simple room. A long table, with cushions positioned around it, took up most of the space. Standing in the small perimeter were more Talasians, dressed in white. Waves of steam rose from wooden platters. The smell wasn’t even too bad.

King Kamalin sat facing them at the end of the table, already helping himself to something resembling food. Next to him, Jezebelle sat, her leg propped up. She leaned toward the king, nearly falling out of her low-cut shirt. He spoke to her in hushed tones with no reaction. Seeing them, he motioned for Greer and Alec to take a place at the table.

Alec sat, leaving one space between him and the king. He crossed his legs, trying to imitate the others. After only a few minutes, his knees protested. He wondered if he’d be able to stand once they were done. A pain shot through his thigh as a cramp already started to form. What he wouldn’t do for a chair.

There were no prayers. No formal serving. Alec remembered King Alcandor’s table and how the servants brought in food. Here, they’d spread it before them in a disorganized feast. Kamalin leaned in, reaching over their plates to grab some food. Alec’s mother would’ve smacked Kamalin’s hand for being so rude.

Jezebelle tried to joke with the king, but she got no reaction. Finally, she caught Alec’s eyes and glared. He could almost tolerate the gypsy now that he wasn’t dependent on her to interpret.

Almost.

A moment passed, and a presence took the empty place between Kamalin and himself. Alec nearly choked when he saw it was the serving girl from earlier.

She stared at him, her dark, unnerving eyes never leaving his. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore; he looked away.

Kamalin motioned toward her. “Methees mit teuoteney, Rayen.”

Alec’s eyes shot to Greer. “What did he say?”

“He’s offering you this girl for your pleasure,” Jezebelle piped in.

His mouth went dry. “For my—”

“Master Alec,” Greer said with a sigh. “Remember how I told you not to mention my study of the language?”

Alec nodded.

“I have reconsidered.” He motioned toward the girl. “This is the king’s daughter, Rayen.”

Alec’s jaw dropped. Her name was Rayen, the king’s … daughter? The king’s daughter had been touching him on the deck. The king’s daughter made him tea? And Jezebelle tried to trick him into … His stomach churned, and it had nothing to do with the sea.

The sneer on Jezebelle’s face faded, and she reddened with rage.

“Jezebelle,” Greer said, “in case you haven’t surmised, I have been learning the language. And if you would like me not to share with the good king what you just tried to do with his daughter, I would hope you don’t put Master Alec in that position again.”

Had Greer just threatened her? Wasn’t he supposed to serve all humans? She was a human … he supposed. So why did Greer speak to her like that? Not that Alec minded. He rather liked seeing the wench squirm.

The king spoke again, motioning toward Greer.

Jezebelle shifted in her seat, then she plastered on a smile. She stammered before she spoke to the king.

Greer leaned over. “I guess we just complimented the food.”

Kamalin nodded and made a flicking motion with his hand. A servant stepped forward and piled food onto their plates. Kamalin tented his fingers, watching them.

Alec stared at the food, trying to figure out what it was. It had tentacles. Slimy ones. He swallowed, wondering if the seasickness was coming on him again.

Rayen made a motion of her own and another servant approached, this time with a pitcher. Rayen produced the same cup as before—he wondered where she had been hiding it. She set it in front of Alec, and the servant poured steaming tea into the cup.

Alec met her eyes, and they twinkled. “Trink.”

With no need of persuading this time, he downed it in a single gulp. Then she pushed the plate closer to him. Apparently, he was supposed to eat all of it.

He leaned to Greer, whispering, “What is it?”

Greer’s wrinkled brow furrowed. “I am uncertain, Master Alec. But it would seem, in their culture, complimenting the meal entitles you to something more. It would be my guess we are supposed to finish this, otherwise it might be offensive.”

“Do you suppose vomiting on the table would be offensive?”

Greer chuckled. “It might be best to keep it down.”

Alec nodded, feeling a little better after drinking the tea. However, after catching sight of his plate again, he didn’t feel so good.

Ten minutes later, Alec slurped the last of his plate clean. The squid—he guessed—tasted worse than it looked. He closed his eyes, trying to forget the slimy texture. The others, apart from Greer and Alec, hadn’t yet taken a bite. They only watched. After Alec forcibly swallowed the last of it, the king motioned with his hand, and a warrior sat another dish before them.

Apparently, they had only eaten an appetizer before the real meal.

By some unforeseen miracle, Alec finished the next dish, and he even forced down something that might’ve been dessert. He wondered what shade of green his face had taken on.

He avoided the pleased grin on Jezebelle’s face. She’d manipulated her knowledge of their culture enough to get revenge, in that small way.

After they cleaned their plates, two large bowls filled with wax and plant fibers were placed in front of them. The servant scraped a small stick against the wall. A flame came to life on the end, and he lowered it, using it to light the candles set before them.

Alec stared. How did he do that? Sticks don’t catch fire on their own. You need lots of friction. It takes more than one stroke on a wall.

After a few minutes, a heady aroma filled the air. Floral fragrances, ones Alec didn’t recognize, mixed with a citrus scent. It made his head light and his body relaxed. With his stomach full, his eyelids drooped. He covered his mouth, hiding a yawn.

Finally, King Kamalin leaned forward, speaking. He finished and Jezebelle sighed. She was about to translate, but Greer spoke instead.

“He wants to know more about this new king, Emery Cadogan. Does he have the strange powers of your land, like the previous king?”

Alec held back another yawn. “Tell him, Greer.”

“The question is for you.”

“For Brim’s sake. You’ve known him a lot longer than me.”

“He wants to hear the answer from you.”

Alec shook his head and slapped his cheek once to wake up. The others eyed him curiously, probably wondering if he was crazy.

Alec told the king about Emery, and how Emery had once been a general in Alcandor’s army. He told him how Emery deserted, and how he started a group of resistance comprised of those who also had Shay powers. Alec also shared how he’d come into his own Shay, and how Emery had taken him in. The smoke from the candles had relaxed him, and he shared far more than he normally would.

“And what of your scars?” Greer translated.

His relaxed mood tensed abruptly. “My scars?”

“My warriors tell me you were once a slave.”

Alec glared at Jezebelle, who shrugged a bare shoulder, a smirk on her face.

“My warriors say this, but I do not believe,” Greer interpreted. “This … ” Kamalin made a slashing motion across his own face. “ … is not the mark of a slave brand or whip. Tell me what gave you this mark.”

Alec hesitated, feeling Rayen’s eyes hard on him. Slowly, he unsheathed his sword with a metallic hiss and laid it on the table in front of him.

Kamalin picked up the sword, examining it from several angles. Alec hadn’t noticed until now that all of his eating utensils were either pottery or wood. Even the warrior’s weapons, the spears, were wood with stone points. Metal seemed to be foreign to Talasi.

Kamalin brushed his thumb across the edge of the blade. Alec was about to warn him, but Kamalin sliced his thumb before he could stop him. Kamalin jerked his hand back but didn’t complain. He examined the wound; blood traced the line, collecting and then dripping down his tattooed arm.

Kamalin nodded and rose. He motioned for Alec to rise as well.

“Greer?” Alec asked. “What’s he thinking?”

“He does not seem to have any ill feelings toward you, Master Alec. He is only curious about the sword.”

Alec rose, his heartbeat increasing. He didn’t like facing someone armed, especially when he didn’t have a weapon of his own.

Kamalin came toward him, the sword awkward in a two-handed grip. He was tall, much taller than he’d looked when he had stood next to Nolan. Intricate tattoos covered the chieftain’s bronzed skin. The details were hard to see unless you were up close, like he was right now. He was in his middle years, but his body rippled with well-defined muscles and faint scars hiding under the black marks on his skin. His dark eyes inspected Alec. He circled him, sword in hand.

“Greer?” Alec asked again.

“Do not worry, Master Alec. He is only—”

Pain ripped across Alec’s arm. Alec whirled to face Kamalin. His upper arm twitched where the sword had sliced through. Kamalin showed no emotion; he merely examined Alec’s wound.

“Stand down, Alec,” Greer said.

Alec’s arms shook with the need to fight.

Kamalin raised the sword, this time, point first at Alec’s chest.

Alec held his breath—and willed his Shay to life.

The expressionless mask of the chief fell briefly as Alec’s eyes glowed. He regained his composure before he spoke. “You take pain like a true warrior,” Greer translated. “And these marks were done by others. They are not the right angle to do with your own hand.”

“Do with my own hand?” Alec snorted. “Why would I do it with my own hand?” As if he had nothing better to do than slice himself for fun. Ridiculous savage.

Kamalin leaned in close, speaking in his Talasian tongue. “These emotions of yours … I would think they would weaken you, but you are a warrior of great strength.” He held out the sword to Alec.

Alec reached for it, realizing his arm wasn’t working right. He checked the wound and cursed. Streams of red trailed down his arm, dripping onto the floor. His new tunic had been sliced and soaked in blood. Before Alec could object, Kamalin grabbed the top of his tunic and tore the sleeve clean from his arm. In practiced movements, he wrapped the sleeve on the wound and tied it off.

So much for my new shirt. He turned to Greer and sighed. “Greer? Can you help me out here?”

Greer rose and touched Alec’s arm. Warmth seeped from the Guardian’s fingers and spread into Alec’s arm. Healing energy pulsed through him, and the wound tingled before the pain left completely. Alec opened and closed his hand and moved his arm. It was still hard to get used to how fast the Healing Shay worked. He took off the makeshift bandage. Maybe Greer could sew it back on.

Kamalin stared at Alec’s arm. He grabbed his wrist and yanked it up, inspecting the wound.

“I suppose he’s never—” Pain sliced through Alec’s arm again. “Ouch! What the—!”

“Eckene.” Kamalin held up Alec’s arm, freshly gashed from his sword.

“He wants to see it again,” Greer said.

“Again?” Alec said, his teeth gritted. “The nightforsaken savage could’ve sliced his own arm, for Brim’s sake.”

Greer touched Alec, and healing pulsed through him again. This time, Kamalin leaned in, watching as the wound sealed closed.

Kamalin nodded, appearing satisfied. Then he held out his hand, showing Greer the cut on his thumb. “Eckene.”

Greer touched him. His eyes flashed Guardian white, and Kamalin’s wound sealed. Kamalin sucked in a breath, his eyebrows rising uncharacteristically. Then his mask returned. He nodded and strode toward the door.

The warriors left with him, followed by the servants. Rayen remained on her cushion, staring at Alec in a whole new way. The curious intensity of her stare faded, replaced by wonderment. Even though she kept her emotions in check, her eyes held many expressions all on their own.

Alec scanned the room. Jezebelle was no longer here. He wondered when she’d slithered off. At least now that Greer could speak the language, Alec wouldn’t have to see that disgusting wench as often, if at all. He wondered how well she could swim.

He snorted at his own joke. All it would take would be one toss, using his Speed, and she wouldn’t have the slightest clue what happened. Maybe as they passed by an island. He didn’t want her to drown, did he? No. He just wanted her gone.

“Master Alec,” Greer said. “Is that a wise idea?”

Alec stared at him. Sometimes he wondered if the Guardian could read his mind. “Is what a wise idea?”

One of Greer’s brows rose. “Throwing her off the ship?”

Alec’s mouth dropped open. He can read my mind! He cleared his throat. “No. But it’s fun to think about.”

Greer smiled. “On this instance, I might agree.”

Alec threw his head back and laughed for the first time since he’d left on this nightforsaken ship. He’d been too sick to do anything but hang over the rails. He turned to Rayen’s seat and was surprised to see her still there, watching them.

“Hey, Greer. How do you say ‘thank you’?”

Greer’s brow furrowed. “I do not believe they have such a phrase in their language.”

“No thank you?”

“Thank you expresses gratitude. Gratitude is an emotion. The Talasi—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

Alec paced, trying to figure out how to explain “thank you.” It was one of those things taught to a child. He remembered his mother, how she always insisted he say it. When she made him a meal … when they went to the baker … when he played with friends. He even thanked the Rol’dan scum for their service to the armory. When he didn’t mean it, he pretended to be grateful. Everyone did. Well … not everyone, apparently. The Talasian didn’t even know what it was. He couldn’t imagine not recognizing those simplest of words.

He picked up the cup. “Thank you for the tea.”

A hint of confusion escaped her hard, Talasian exterior.

“Oh, for Brim’s sake,” Alec muttered, then he plastered a smile over his annoyance. He shoved the cup into her hands. “Thank you.”

“Tank you?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Her brows furrowed.

“I’m happy I’m not sick anymore. Thank you.”

Greer translated, and her face showed no change or understanding.

“Haapy?” she asked.

Alec sighed and impulsively grabbed her, squeezing her into a hug. She tensed at first, and then she relaxed and brought her arms slowly around him. Finally, she might understand. After a few long seconds, he pulled away and smiled. But before he could speak, she lunged forward, pressing her lips to his.

Alec’s head swam. He’d kissed Taryn before, but not like this. Rayen brought her hand up, threading her fingers through his hair, and pulled his head, pressing his lips hard against hers. She broke away, meeting his eyes. She said nothing, but her stare spoke a multitude of words.

Alec’s breath came out short, his heart hammering. Before he could move or respond, she turned and walked from the room, her posture erect, her movements full of grace. Alec remained like stone, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“What was that?” he finally said, shaking away his shock.

“I believe,” Greer said, “she understood what you were trying to say.”

“That’s good,” Alec said. “So … why?”

“She is saying ‘you are welcome’ I would guess.”

Alec nodded slowly, his brain wrapping around the moment. He was glad she understood; however, now he was more confused than ever.

Chapter Thirteen

ALEC SPENT THE REMAINING DAYS of the trip sitting at the rails. Not because of illness, but because he actually wanted to view the sea. Now that he wasn’t hanging over the side, spewing strange, exotic foods, he could finally get a glimpse of what Nolan loved. White foam edged the gentle waves. Sunshine reflected on the surface of the water, sparkling like gems. It was … pretty. Not like he wanted to run away and become a sailor or anything. But he could appreciate it a bit more.

As they drifted along, he studied the contours of the land. He’d never seen Adamah from this angle. Trees covered the shore, broken up by the occasional city or town. Moss and branches hung into the water, brushing against the green film along the water’s edge. And every time they passed a town, the docks flooded with curious spectators.

Alec’s eyes drifted from the nearest town back to the other end of the ship’s deck. Rayen and Greer sat on a blanket together, deep in conversation. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. He should be happy she wasn’t bothering him instead. They saw enough of each other when he got his food, or when she walked by him. She’d wordlessly pass him tea, and he’d gulp it down and walk away. Greer could have her company; he didn’t want it anyway. But it didn’t explain why jealousy stabbed him.

She was a curious little thing—even if he wasn’t interested. She was pretty, he admitted, but that was all. He tried to push her from his thoughts, but her kiss kept wedging into his mind. And every time she handed him his tea, her fingers lingered on his. She didn’t smile or flirt with him like other girls had done at his father’s armory back home, but her eyes always fixed on him with an intense stare.

He pulled his gaze away from the pair and back to the shore. The dock swarmed with more people than usual. He recognized this town. Since he’d come into his Speed, and after what happened with Taryn and with Nolan, he’d done a fair amount of traveling to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions. The last couple of months, he’d visited most of the cities in Adamah to see places he’d heard about but had not seen. Why not? Traveling was better than sitting around with a bunch of Rol’dan. Besides, his friends reminded him too much of what had happened and everything he’d lost. With his Speed, he could go from one place to another easily. He’d switched cities often, as he’d found it hard to stay in one place for too long.

This town he remembered far too well.

It was trouble; one too many drunks had tried their hand at fighting Alec. They were idiots, of course. Alec hadn’t worked up much of a sweat dueling them. But if he had been a common man … Well, let’s just say a person shouldn’t go there unless they had to.

A movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He turned as Rayen’s small figure sat next to him, so close her arm brushed his.

“Get bored with Greer?” Alec asked.

Rayen stared at him with expressionless, dark eyes.

Alec smiled. “He can be a bit dull sometimes, at least in his old man form. Now, when you see him all Guardian-like, that’s something else. Nearly made me wet my breeches the first time. He looks a lot like my friend Nolan does now.”

She watched, listening.

“Nolan was at the docks. Not sure if you saw him or not. He’s hard to miss. He talked to your dad in Renfrew. You know, when your father came on that boat to the shore.” Alec smiled sadly. “Haven’t talked to Nolan much lately, at least not since his change.”

Alec relaxed and watched the banks, leaning back on his arms. He noticed a group of men gathering at the docks.

“Nolan isn’t as strong as he used to be,” Alec continued. “Not emotionally, at least. I don’t think he’s taking this Emissary thing well at all. He can’t stand how people stare at him.

“Kind of like how everyone stares at me here, like I’m a freak. I’m used to it. People would come watch my dad and me fight all the time. Nolan doesn’t know how to handle it, doesn’t know what to do with the attention. And as much as he’d like to, he can’t hide.”

He touched his face where the scar disfigured him. “I guess Nolan and I are a lot alike. I’m a bit of a freak too.”

He studied her face as she studied his. She was quite beautiful. Exotic even. Too bad she didn’t speak anything but Talasian. Too bad Alec would never love again.

“What is freak?” she asked.

Alec started. “Did you just … ”

“Greer teach.”

Alec’s head spun. So that’s what they’d been doing. Greer was teaching her their language. And Alec had just rambled on like an idiot. She couldn’t have understood it all, could she? He groaned. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. Why in Brim’s name did she want to know how to speak Adamaian, anyway? It wasn’t like she would have much opportunity to use it.

“Freak is … warrior?” she asked.

Alec barked a laugh. “No. Freak is … ” How did he describe such a word? “A freak doesn’t fit in. A freak is someone who everyone stares at and wants to run away from.”

She nodded in approval. “Freak is warrior.”

“No,” Alec said. “Freak is different. Freak is not the same as everyone else. A freak stands out.”

“Yes. You are freak.”

By the way she studied him, she didn’t understand at all. She believed a freak was something good. He shook his head, giving up. Dragging his eyes to the town’s docks, he noticed a boat had pushed away and now rowed in their direction.

Rayen pointed.

“I see it.” Alec stood, adjusting his sword belt. “Looks like we might be in for some trouble.”

“Trouble?”

He met her eyes. “Might have to fight.”

Rayen nodded and stood, heading swiftly off the deck and down the stairs, probably to tell her father what was going on. Maybe he was wrong about the villagers. Maybe they weren’t coming to fight. Rough characters sat on the boat, one standing with his hand on his sword hilt. They didn’t seem like the type who wanted to talk.

Greer approached.

“What’s going on, Greer?”

“Hmm,” Greer said. “They do not have friendly thoughts.”

“Didn’t figure so. Can you soothe them, you know, like Emery and Nolan do? Calm them a little so I don’t have to kill anyone?”

Greer shook his head. “I am sorry, Master Alec, but that is not a Guardian ability.”

“No?” Alec grunted. “Too bad.”

Alec slid his sword from his sheath and rolled his neck and shoulders. He was feeling better, thank Brim. He wasn’t sure how he would’ve fared puking and swinging his sword at the same time.

Others gathered behind him, their Talasian words building in volume. He glanced over his shoulder, and a small group, a half dozen or so, of young warriors stood in a rank behind him. They were partially tattooed, holding spears casually. The king had apparently sent his light troops. The heavily tattooed warriors weren’t anywhere to be seen. Alec wouldn’t need them, anyway. As rough as these townsmen were, they didn’t have the Shay of Speed.

As the boat got closer, the warriors joined him at the rails, peering intently at the incoming company. He felt short next to these muscled men.

“Greer,” Alec said, “tell the warriors to step back.”

Greer relayed the message, but they didn’t acknowledge it. One grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Alec shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

As the boat approached, Alec could see the villagers’ scowling faces. Two men stood and pulled out swords.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Alec called down to them. “What can we help you with this fine day?”

A man with a rounded belly sneered. “Get out of the way, boy. We’re here to kill some Talaswine.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get by me first.”

“If you want to be a savage lover, then you can die with them easy enough.”

Alec wondered how the idiots would board the ship with a row of spearmen lined up on the boat’s edge. They aren’t that stupid, are they? Of course, they had tried to fight him before.

But instead of grappling lines or boarding ropes, they pulled out crossbows.

Alec sucked in a breath. “Ah, crows!”

The Talasians warriors didn’t react. They probably didn’t even know what a nightforsaken crossbow did. And as the slobs raised their weapons, Alec let his Speed come forth.

Time slowed.

The strings on the crossbows released, slowly launching the shafts. The missiles crossed one another, all aiming for different warriors who stood along the rails. The bolts were a lot smaller than the longbow arrows Alec had deflected before. He studied them as they sailed his way. He’d have to time it perfectly. Things were about to get interesting.

Alec hacked his sword in a large arc, into the path of oncoming death. He sliced the shafts of the arrows and spun, lunging upward, catching the arrows coming on the other side of him, redirecting them into the air.

He skidded into normal speed, and the villagers gawked, frozen in stunned silence. Alec grinned. Apparently, they weren’t expecting a Shay user on board. They paused for a long second and took aim again, this time pointing everything they had at Alec.

He was about to mutter a curse under his breath but quickly changed his mind. This was a good thing. At least they only focused on him. Alec squeezed the handle of his sword and flared the light of his Shay. “Come on, girls,” he said under his breath. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Once again, time crawled—a sensation Alec knew well but never completely got used to. Sights and sounds crept in slow motion. In this case, a dozen arrow shafts punched through the air, some ahead of the others, coming toward him in a wavering mass. He had a few moments and decided an upward sweep of his sword should deflect the whole lot nicely. He positioned himself, but then things changed.

Two arrows connected with a pop of wood on wood. The bolts deflected off one another, redirecting their flight. One shot into the air, which was quite convenient considering he planned on doing that anyway. The other sailed harmlessly over Alec’s shoulder. He’d have to ignore it and focus on the rest.

With a well-timed flick, he caught most of the bolts, flinging them skyward. With his other hand, he nabbed two more arrows from the air.

Extinguishing his Shay, he brought everything back to normal. As he did, he heard the unmistakable sound of the last arrow hitting flesh. A stunned cry of pain rang out. Alec whirled and watched a young Talasian warrior fall, clutching the feathered end of the bolt protruding from his chest.

The attackers let out a cry of victory from their boat.

Greer appeared then, yanking the arrow free and laying his hands on the young man in order to heal him. But as he did, the warrior shuddered, releasing a long sigh of death. The shot was too clean. He died almost instantly.

Alec blinked. That shouldn’t have happened. Why’d he let it happen?

Greer threw his head back and roared with far more power than an old man should. His face wore an expression of both anger and despair. He marched to Alec as his arms trembled with rage.

The Talasian warriors were obviously shaken, but they kept their emotions concealed. However, now, instead of standing there, they were alert, their spears raised, with battle on their faces.

Alec growled. “If I could reach them, this would be over in seconds.”

“I can make it happen,” Greer said, his voice hard, “if that is what you really wish, Master Alec.”

“Can’t block arrows and swim at the same time.”

“You don’t need to swim.” Greer met his eyes. “I have good aim.”

Alec inhaled sharply. He wants to throw me? He’d been tossed with a Strength-enhanced throw once. It wasn’t any fun. “All right … all right … Do it quick before I change my—”

Greer grabbed him like a sack of flour and hurled him toward the boat.

With the Shay of Speed, Alec always had command of his environment. He could slow things, maneuver through obstacles, dodge arrows and sword strikes. But flying through the air, he had no control.

He wasn’t sure who was more frightened as he soared toward the small boat: himself or the attackers. He let out the scream he’d been holding in and turned it into a battle cry as he fell.

***

He’d expected a bloodbath.

Instead, the cowards dove from the boat and swam away, horror plastered on their ugly faces. Alec guessed it wasn’t every day a Speed user flew at them with a sword. Apparently, they weren’t as dumb as they looked.

It was probably a good thing they’d retreated, considering Alec had stumbled and fallen, instead of landing on his feet. Compared to the nimble Talasian warriors, Alec felt like he’d landed with the grace of a newborn foal. He could feel the warriors’ contemplative eyes staring at him from the boat’s rails.

A part of him wanted to chase the attackers down and stab them like fish. Instead, he stretched out to grab an escaping oar. He awkwardly rowed the empty boat closer to the ship, switching from one side to the other to avoid spinning in a circle. An empty rum bottle rolled against his boot. He kicked it aside, but a wave rolled it back to him again. It partially explained why they’d acted so irrationally—apart from the fact they were just plain mean. They were too stupid with drink to think straight.

As he reached the ship, Greer reached over the side. Alec stepped onto the ledge of the boat and grabbed the Guardian’s hand, using his feet to climb aboard. Greer grunted, pretending like it was difficult. Alec snorted. The warriors had just seen him throw Alec at least ten arm lengths. Greer played the pathetic game quite poorly.

As Alec swung his leg over, he could see that few were paying attention to them anyway. Most left the deck to return to whatever dull and boring things Talasians did. A few warriors lingered, crouching by their fallen comrade. They didn’t cry or mourn. Even in death, the stubborn savages didn’t allow themselves to feel.

Greer’s face was the opposite of the warriors’. His graying brows were drawn together, and the lines around his eyes seemed deeper.

“Greer,” Alec said. “What’s wrong?” He frantically searched the deck. Where was Rayen? Was she hurt during the attack?

“She’s fine,” Greer said, answering Alec’s thoughts. “Warriors removed her from harm’s way as soon as the threat emerged. She is, after all, the king’s daughter.”

Alec relaxed, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “For Brim’s sake, Greer. You had me worried.”

Greer’s eyes flicked to the fallen warrior, and the crease between his brows deepened. “The arrow hit true. He died almost immediately. I could do nothing.”

Alec valued life, but he’d seen a lot of deaths in the last few months—he’d even killed many. As far as a battle went, only one death was pretty good. Greer shouldn’t beat himself up over something he couldn’t control.

Alec followed Greer’s stare to the warrior. He was young, had few tattoos, probably not that much older than Alec. Unfortunately, he’d been standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time. It wasn’t Greer’s fault. If anything, Alec should hold the blame. He could’ve been faster. He should’ve blocked the arrow. And he would’ve done it if the two bolts hadn’t hit together. An accident—if a murdering boatload of drunk crossbow archers could be considered an accident.

Greer released a sigh. He put a heavy hand on Alec’s shoulder. “You did well, Master Alec. You are right. There could have been far more deaths than there were.”

“But someone died.”

“Yes.”

“You did all you could,” Alec said.

“My abilities restrict me from bringing the young man back to life.”

Alec stared, speechless for a long breath. “Greer. Why would you want to die for someone you don’t know?”

“Master Alec. A Guardian’s primary goal is to protect man. Not just any man, but all mankind. I would have traded my life if I could, but alas. I could only watch him die.”

He turned from Alec, retreating from the deck, leaving Alec alone with the few remaining warriors. They’d arranged the dead warrior in a natural position, with his arms crossed over his chest and his spear in his hand. Alec figured they’d move him somewhere else. A pool of blood surrounded him, more than likely dripping through the deck. Alec swallowed back bile. He’d seen blood, but that was … disgusting. The dining area rested below. It didn’t make him want to run downstairs and eat. Instead, he stayed on deck, hanging on the rails and watching the scenery pass by. The body never moved.

Throughout the rest of the day, the warriors visited the fallen one. They came and went, saying nothing, each merely making a fist and smacking it against his chest.

By the end of the day, King Kamalin emerged, mirroring the same gesture as the others. He muttered a few words in the Talasian tongue—the first words Alec had heard spoken from any of them the entire day—and then four warriors picked up the now stiff corpse and tossed it into the sea.

So much for funerals.

When the sunlight nearly faded, Alec remembered he’d skipped dinner, and his tea. His stomach turned like the waves.

As if on cue, a presence appeared at his shoulder. Alec turned to see Rayen’s expressionless face near his elbow. She didn’t say anything, she merely handed Alec the steaming cup. Perhaps the silence was part of the mourning.

He nodded, in case speaking was disrespectful. And after he’d finished the tea, he handed it back to Rayen. She took it and touched his arm softly before retreating.

Turning to the water, he contemplated all the changes in his life this last year. His power. Nolan’s death and transformation. Taryn’s sacrifice. In many ways, his emotions were numb, like the Talasians. He had to close himself off to make it from day to day. Even death didn’t affect him as it should. He should feel more, shouldn’t he? He sighed, resting his chin on the rail, watching the body of the warrior bobbing, drifting out to sea.

Chapter Fourteen

THE LAST FEW DAYS ON THE SHIP, King Kamalin looked at Alec differently. All the warriors did. Instead of the freakish stares—as if he were an exotic, wild animal—they looked at him with expressions that could almost pass for respect.

As they approached their destination, Alec gripped the rails, his excitement building at the prospect of getting off the boat. Finally, he’d get to go home. His joy quickly deflated. Father had picked up his forge and moved to Faylinn in the heart of the Rol’dan. Alec didn’t have a home anymore.

The ship followed the shore, far enough out so the oars’ steady strokes wouldn’t skim the shallow waters. The shoreline had become rockier, with large boulders cluttering the edges. When they rounded a bend, the city of Faylinn broke into view. The castle, and its surrounding walled fortress, seemed even grander from the sea.

A row of huge Rol’dan flags adorned the shore, six of them, each representing one of the six Shay powers. They flapped gently in the breeze, adding sound to the silence on the boat. Towers thrust up past the flags, where torches were once lit at night to protect them from the Dor’Jan.

The quiet on the ship shifted dramatically; warriors dashed along the deck preparing to land, their sharp voices barking orders. For the first time in his life, Alec was glad to see Faylinn.

He stared across the water. Finally, he would get off the nightforsaken boat. Finally, he would put his feet on dry land. Part of him, however, would miss the ship and the steady calm of its crew. It had given him hours to think on things, to focus on the dramatic changes in his life.

A presence touched his elbow. Alec turned, expecting to see Rayen; they’d spent a lot of time together these last few days. Instead, Alec’s excitement deflated like a sliced water skin. Jezebelle stood next to him with one of her telltale sneers.

“We’ll finally be able to get off this boat, boy.”

Alec snorted. “I thought you’d fallen overboard.”

Jezebelle tossed a long braid over her shoulder. “With the old man interpreting, I figured I’d find better ways to occupy myself.”

Alec didn’t want to even consider how she’d spent her time.

“You’d be surprised,” she said. “I’ve had lots of discussions. Apparently you’re quite a fighter. I guess those aren’t slave scars after all.”

“I’m so glad you cleared that up.” Alec shook his head, feigning relief. “And I was worried I’d been a slave.”

“And what of the old man? Eh?” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. “He heals wounds but his eyes glow white instead of green. He’s a bit of an oddity, I would say.”

“He’s a Guardian.” Not that Alec cared about her curiosity, but he liked watching her squirm.

Her arrogant expression flattened. “A … what?”

“A Guardian. A warrior of light. Huge, light-infused beings with the power of all six.” He turned to get a better look at her shock. “He hides as an old man. The first time I saw his true form, I tried to run away.”

Jezebelle blinked, her astonishment displayed magnificently across her face.

Alec continued, “Alcandor was a Guardian, too. That’s why he was so powerful and why he lived so long.”

“Alcandor?” she said. “King Alcandor?” Her eyes fixed over his shoulder in thought and then snapped back to him. “What do you mean lived? Is he dead?”

“No. He’s alive … unfortunately. They locked him away in Faylinn.”

On the shore, a group of Rol’dan soldiers formed into ranks, organized into the different power sects. A group of Strength Rol’dan, sporting the red capes of their station, stood in one formation. Next to them stood a unit of soldiers wearing short blue capes and longbows over their backs: the Accuracy Rol’dan. Some others wore golden capes for Speed. And still more with the orange of Perception. An assembly of Empathy soldiers stood at attention, their violet capes flapping gently in the breeze.

Off to the side, black-robed Healers gathered, adorned with their green sashes. Alec shuddered when he saw them. He hoped they weren’t here for anything specific. Healers and trouble often went hand in hand.

At the front of the group stood General Kael Trividar, his legs spread apart slightly and his hands on his hips. A man, taller and broader than the rest, stood next to him—the only one not dressed in a uniform. The orange light of Perception flared in Nolan’s eyes. Alec waved, knowing Nolan watched.

“Is the Emissary a Guardian as well?” Jezebelle asked.

Alec smiled. He rather enjoyed messing with her head. “No. He’s something else.”

Blissful silence followed. Let her chew on that for a while.

The oars stopped, and the boat drifted forward before numerous stone anchors were thrown over the side. King Kamalin emerged on deck with Rayen. Greer approached next, followed by several tattooed warriors.

“Come, Alec,” Greer said. “They have a boat waiting for us. It is time to go ashore.”

***

The moment they stepped off the boat, Alec wished he could get back on. His vision swayed, his legs wobbled, and his stomach lurched. An arm steadied him, and Alec pulled his eyes from the bobbing tree line to the amused smirk of Nolan.

“How was your trip?” Nolan asked.

“You know I’ll have to kill you now.”

Nolan grinned, but it seemed strained. “You might have some reverse seasickness.”

“Reverse seasickness?”

“Or you haven’t gotten your land legs, pretty much the same thing.”

“Oh, for Brim’s sake!” Alec had finally gotten used to the boat, and now he couldn’t walk on land? “How long will this last?”

Nolan shrugged. “Few hours. Few days. A week or so … Depends on the person.”

Alec cursed. At least he’d be vomiting normal food for a change.

Greer approached and nodded to Nolan. He touched Alec’s arm, sending a pulse of healing energy into him. The trees stopped lurching, and his eyes focused on a second boat bumping alongside the dock.

The warriors who’d accompanied Greer and himself pulled the boat to shore. King Kamalin stepped out with catlike grace, flanked by six heavily tattooed warriors, three on each side. Kamalin wore his traditional garb—meaning the useless skin flap covering his personal areas. However, this time, intricate beads adorned the fabric. Beaded jewelry hung around his neck, partially covering his tattooed chest, and a beaded leather strap—with several precious stones of red and blue and yellow—rested on his brow, resembling a crown.

Rayen stood at his side, wearing a leather dress covered in the colored beads like her father. Her hair hung in shiny strands, taken out of her typical braid. She was beautiful. But the more he studied her, the more he noticed how pale she’d become. Maybe she also suffered from this reverse seasickness.

General Trividar bowed. “Lord Kamalin. Welcome to Adamah.”

Greer translated for Kael.

Nolan’s brow furrowed. “When did Greer start speaking Talasian?”

“He learned on the boat.”

Jezebelle strode past the gathered soldiers, as if they weren’t even there. She continued toward the forest edge, glanced over her shoulder once, and ducked into the trees.

“So how’d it go with the gypsy?” Nolan asked.

“Let’s just say I’m glad Greer learned their language quickly. Not sure if she helped us much; she tried to get me killed.”

“Would’ve been quite an accomplishment.”

Alec shrugged, smiling. “It’s been done before.”

“Her gypsy friends showed up a few days ago. They made camp right at the edge of our forest.”

“Bet that went over well.”

“Not so much,” Nolan said, his eyes glowing violet. His gaze swept across the soldiers, examining them.

Kael led the gathering of Talasians and Rol’dan toward the castle. Nolan and Alec followed. All the while, Nolan’s eyes glowed fiercely, brighter than Alec had seen them before.

“So what’s with the glowing Empathy thing?” Alec asked.

“Trying to hold back a war.”

Alec noticed how relaxed he felt. He looked over at Nolan and noticed his trembling arms. “You okay?”

Nolan shook his head. “Not now. Need to get the king inside.”

Alec scanned the soldiers, and even with Nolan’s soothing, hate etched the faces of several Rol’dan. If Nolan was soothing them, what were they like on their own?

Not until they entered the castle and the throne room door closed, did Nolan’s tense posture relax. His large shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand over his face. The violet light faded back to normal sky blue. Frown lines creased his face. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair slightly messy. He looked even more exhausted than Alec.

Emery emerged from a door near the throne, striding with confident steps. Alec knew him well enough to see the strain on his face, but he masked it pretty well. He climbed the platform, this time sporting a wardrobe in dark purple, including the long cloak, which billowed around his feet. A woman followed Emery, taking a position at his side. She wore an expensive looking dress. Light blue silk or something—he never knew much about fabrics—with lots of fancy stitching and lacy stuff. It took Alec a moment to realize the noble woman was Megan. Alec pressed his eyes together and opened them again. Crows! Megan looked great.

On Emery’s other side stood Malik and Sanawen in their human forms. Alec supposed they didn’t want to scare the Talasians the moment they walked through the door with their giant, glowing warrior forms.

Next to the Guardians stood Maska—or at least it was someone who resembled Maska. He wore the clothes of a nobleman, including … boots? Had Maska worn boots before? Alec couldn’t remember him ever wearing anything on his feet. He looked so strange. Alec smiled, amused, until he saw the reaction from the Talasians.

The tattooed warriors leaned together, their strange tongue oddly harsh. A murmur swelled around them. King Kamalin’s expression fell briefly as his gaze locked on Maska, rage flashing across his face before he hid it away.

Apparently, they knew each other—and didn’t like each other well.

Emery inhaled and stepped forward, forcing a smile. He approached Kamalin, his eyes flared violet with his Shay. Either he was trying to soothe them or sense the Talasian king’s emotions. Alec suspected a little of both.

Emery extended his hand. “Welcome. I am honored by your visit.”

Kamalin glanced at Emery’s outstretched hand, but his remained at his side. He bowed his head slightly and spoke.

“Thank you for your welcome,” Greer translated. “I hope our lands can remain at peace.”

“As do I, friend.”

Kamalin motioned to his side, and Rayen stepped forward.

“To continue the friendship between our lands,” Greer translated, “I offer my daughter, Rayen, to bind our lands in marriage.”

Alec inhaled sharply. Marriage? That’s why she came? But she’s only a girl. Fourteen. Fifteen at the most. How can she marry Emery?

Emery’s mouth parted. He hesitated, his smile wavering. His gaze flicked to Rayen, giving her a brief inspection, and then he inhaled slowly and spoke again.

“Thank you for such a generous and beautiful gift, friend. However, I regret that I cannot accept.”

Greer translated, and Kamalin’s gaze on Emery intensified. He didn’t show any anger, but Alec wondered if he seethed inside.

Emery motioned to Megan. She stepped from the platform, walked slowly across the throne room, and joined him.

Emery took Megan’s hand. “I cannot take your beautiful daughter, good King Kamalin, because I am already wed.”

Chapter Fifteen

ALEC JOGGED TO KEEP UP with Nolan after the introductions had died away. Both kings retreated into the conference room, which, oddly enough, was Alcandor’s old bedchamber. It had been gutted and refurnished with a table and chairs. Something strange had happened since Alec had left Faylinn. One moment, Emery sent Alec on a rescue mission to save Megan from an unknown illness. The next, she was … queen? How in Brim’s light did that happen?

“Hey,” Alec said. “Wait up.”

Nolan hesitated in his strides, then finally stopped.

“Emery and Megan are married? When?”

“This morning.”

“Crows, that was quick.” Alec shook his head. “I didn’t even know they were, you know, interested.”

“They’ve liked each other for a while.”

“Really?”

Nolan shrugged. “Emery’s been hiding it for years.”

“I had no idea.”

Nolan stepped off again, quicker this time. Alec had to leap to match his long strides.

“So what about her illness? How’s she doing?”

“Fine,” Nolan said. “It’s resolving on its own.”

“That’s good,” Alec said. “Did you find out what was wrong?”

“Yes,” Nolan answered.

Alec waited for him to elaborate, but he got no more from Nolan than a scowl. He’d ask Megan later.

“So why the sudden wedding?” Alec asked. “I mean, I only left two weeks ago. Nothing was going on then.”

“They didn’t want to wait. They’re planning a more formal ceremony in a few months.”

“I’ve seen quick weddings before,” Alec said, still struggling to keep up with Nolan’s pace. “Back in Alton, there was a couple who suddenly got married. But it turned out that she—”

Nolan’s hand clamped over Alec’s mouth. He leaned in, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “Let’s just not talk about what happened at your home. There’s more to this marriage, but it isn’t something I can talk about now. Okay?”

Alec shot him a glare. It wasn’t as if I was talking about Megan. It was only a poor baker’s daughter who was carrying the child of the merchant’s son next … His eyes widened, realization fixing in his mind.

Nolan released his hold on Alec’s mouth, but he held his eyes, a look of warning set in his stare. Could Megan be with child? Was that possible? Oh, Brim’s light! Is that why she was so sick? And if so, who’s the father?

“I have more questions,” Alec said slowly.

“I’m sure you do,” said Nolan.

They stepped outside, near the front of the castle. A few Rol’dan soldiers walked by, giving them a glance before continuing on. Where could they go so as not to be overheard?

“Want to go for a run?” Alec suggested.

Nolan opened his mouth, as if to reject the idea. Then he nodded. “Yes, a run sounds good.”

***

It’d been a long time since he’d run with Nolan. During the days before Nolan’s change, they’d frequently taken off, training with swords in different places. They’d dueled in the mountains. They’d dueled on the plains. They’d even dueled in remote forest clearings surrounded by nothing but wildlife and trees. They had watched the position of the sun and shadows to determine which direction they’d gone—a talent Nolan had taught him from his days on the boat. They’d pushed their limits, barely returning before dark. Those were some of the happiest days of Alec’s life.

Nolan had been more normal then—not that wielding five of the six Shay powers was any type of normal. But since Nolan’s change into this half-Guardian, they were both different. In many ways, they were both lost.

They slowed in a clearing, far from prying Perception ears. Alec turned in time to see Nolan buckling to his knees.

“Nolan!” Alec helped him fall gracefully, sort of. Nolan threw his arms out, trying to catch himself as he hit the ground. His arms connected and shook, then his elbows bent; he collapsed onto the pine needles and dirt coated ground.

“I’ll go get help—”

Nolan snatched Alec’s wrist. “No, wait. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine. Only tired.”

Alec hesitated. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, not with Nolan’s iron grip on him. Brim, he was strong. Nolan’s blue eyes pleaded, like a small child wanting dessert. Alec sighed. “Fine. If you say you’re okay, I’ll stay.”

A flash of Empathy from Nolan tested Alec’s honesty. Nolan was being an idiot.

Finally, he nodded, releasing Alec’s wrist.

Alec rubbed it. “Ouch. That hurt, you know.”

“Sorry.” Nolan lay trembling, staring into the sky. “I’ll heal you in a moment. Just let me rest.”

“I can still get help.”

“No,” Nolan said, his voice firm. “Don’t worry. This is normal.”

“How is this normal?”

“It’s normal for me.”

Finally, the tremors stopped. Nolan ran a hand across his face, still staring at the clouds. “I used too much power earlier, trying to control the Rol’dan.”

“Yeah, what’s with that? You said you had to stop a war?”

“There is a lot of hatred toward Talasi in the Rol’dan.”

Alec knew they didn’t like them. They’d been giving Maska a hard time since he arrived in Faylinn. But would they really start a war?

Alec fell onto the pine needles next to Nolan, watching his friend’s chest slowly rise and fall. He picked a long stalk of grass from the edge of the path and divided it, stripping it into long strands. “We ran into some trouble on the way here. Seems like the city of Neda doesn’t like the Talasians either. A whole boatload of people made a special trip out to the ship to try to kill them.”

“And ran into you?” Nolan asked.

A grin spread on Alec’s face. “I did say they tried.”

“The tension is worse in the northern port cities, where they’ve had the most interaction. Talasi really isn’t that far from Adamah by sea.”

“So what’s with the Rol’dan hatred?” Alec asked.

Nolan shrugged. “Not sure. Not all of them are that way, just the outspoken ones.”

“Maybe some came from Neda?” Alec suggested with a snort. He wouldn’t be too surprised; the town teemed with idiots, after all. It wouldn’t surprise me if they supplied the whole Rol’dan army with troops. It would explain quite a lot.

After a few more minutes, Nolan finally sat up and told Alec about Maska’s brush with death. He filled Alec in on Megan’s pregnancy and marriage. Alec listened, his mouth hanging open.

“So let me get this straight,” Alec said. “The baby might kill her if it’s Alcandor’s?”

Nolan nodded.

“But it could be Maska’s?”

Nolan nodded again.

“But the soldiers think it’s Emery’s?”

“No,” Nolan said. “They don’t even know she’s expecting, which is why Emery and Megan married quickly. Once they find out, they’ll assume it’s his. There’s already been gossip about them visiting together at night.”

Alec pressed his fingers into his temples. What a mess! “When you told me about the baby, I thought it could be yours.”

Nolan’s brows knitted together. “It’s not mine.”

“I know, but—”

“Why would you say it’s mine?” He gave Alec a glare that wasn’t even close to friendly.

“Well,” he said, “you two talked a lot a few months ago.”

Nolan stood, though he wasn’t too steady on his feet. “Nothing happened between us. Never did. Never will.”

What was up with him? If Alec didn’t know better, he would think Nolan was jealous. Did he still care for Megan? Crows, I hope not. I thought he was over her and had taken a liking to Kat.

“You said this weakness is normal for you?” Alec asked, changing the subject. “I’ve never seen you like this, except when you did that Nass cleansing thing.”

“I can only hold so much power. After I use it, I have to refill.”

“So how do you … refill?”

“I stand in the stones’ light.” Nolan stumbled before steadying on a tree. “The crowd took a lot out of me. I’ve been distracted. Didn’t fill like I should’ve.”

“Distracted,” Alec said. “You mean because of the Talasian visit?”

“Among other things.” He passed Alec a “drop it” look and scanned the forest trail. “We might have to walk back. Don’t want to risk using any more power.”

“As long as I don’t have to carry you, it’s fine.”

Nolan laughed and took an unsteady step. “You might.”

They started walking … slowly. A small brown bird jumped from branch to branch. The trees rustled as a breeze passed over them. It was kind of nice. He hadn’t stopped to enjoy nature much since coming into Speed.

“So what happens if you run out of power?” Alec asked after a long silence.

Nolan caught his eyes. “I’ll die.”

Die? Alec hesitated, but Nolan continued to walk ahead. He’d started getting used to Nolan being all-powerful and undefeatable. It was hard to imagine anything able to kill him.

“So how was your trip?” Nolan asked in an obvious attempt to sidestep the conversation.

“I owe you some serious revenge.”

Nolan chuckled. “Not too many problems, I hope. Except the attack from Neda?”

“Not too much,” Alec said, his mind drifting back to the dead warrior and the annoying gypsy. “So what do you know about Maska and the Talasian king? There’s some serious tension between them.”

“Ah,” Nolan said. “Only the small details Maska shared. It would seem Maska fell in love with the king’s daughter back in Talasi.”

Alec stopped. “Rayen?”

“No,” Nolan said. “Not her. Kamalin has another daughter named Mikayla. As you’ve noticed, emotions aren’t allowed in their tribe. Marriage has nothing to do with love to them—it’s responsibility.”

“So where’s this other daughter?”

“Do you remember the Duke’s wife in Alton?”

Alec’s eyes widened.

“After Mikayla’s fall, Kamalin gave her to Alcandor for peace. Alcandor used her, then gave her to Duke Ragnall.”

“And Maska?”

“They put him on a raft and released him to the sea. Apparently, to die. He just didn’t cooperate.”

“And he ended up here in Adamah?”

Nolan nodded. “And he ended up in Adamah, where Emery found him.”

That would explain their reaction. A traitor returning from the dead. And, as much as the Talasians pretended they didn’t feel things, Alec knew better; he had seen it. Kamalin probably hated Maska for what he’d done to his daughter.

“The other thing I can’t figure out,” Alec said, “is why Maska has a Shay, and the others don’t. I spent, what was it? Two weeks on that boat, and I didn’t see a single Shay power. They gawked at me every time I used it; my guess is that they don’t see them often, if at all.”

Nolan paused, tilting his head in thought. “I’ve watched the Tournament of Awakening for several years. Before the emergence of the Shay stones, the Rol’dan forced out people’s powers with extreme emotions. I imagine the Talasians are so skilled at suppressing their emotions, they really haven’t had an opportunity to come into a Shay.”

“Maybe,” Alec said. “But they feel things. Maska proved that. Just because they don’t show it, doesn’t mean they don’t feel. What about when one gets injured? That’s how Taryn came into her Shay.” Alec flinched, not meaning to bring up her name. He swallowed, pushing her out of his thoughts. “Did Maska come into a power before coming to Adamah? Do you suppose something about our land is a factor?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange, though. I’m sure there’s a reason. We just don’t know it yet.” Traits of old Nolan, the scholar, slowly emerged. Alec could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. “I’ll do some research and see what I come up with.”

They kept further conversation shallow, such as the topic of Kael being an arse—one of Alec’s favorite discussions. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they neared the edge of Faylinn. A fire crackled in a nearby clearing, casting shadows on the surrounding trees. Drums started a steady cadence, followed by a flute playing a lively tune.

“What’s that?” Alec asked.

“The gypsies. Like I said, they’ve made camp near us, waiting for Jezebelle.”

“So why haven’t they gone home?”

“Don’t know,” Nolan said. “With the attitude of the soldiers, I figured they’d be long gone.”

The music stopped, and a chorus of laughter took its place. A few squeals of merriment, and then the music started again.

“I will say one thing … ” Alec said. “I don’t trust Jezebelle.”

They stopped within sight of the campfire light. Nolan’s eyes glowed faintly with his Perception Shay. “Neither do I.”

After passing the gypsies uneventfully, they arrived back at the castle. When Nolan and Alec entered the throne room, Megan and Emery stood alone. They leaned in, deep in discussion.

Nolan’s posture stiffened.

Alec cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

They looked up, and upon seeing Alec, Megan grinned. “Alec!” she said. “So glad you’re back.”

Emery shifted, staring at his boots. Finally, he straightened and met Alec’s eyes, avoiding Nolan altogether. “Greer told me about your adventures,” Emery said, “especially with the townspeople of Neda. I’m glad you were able to help.”

“Yeah, well. That town is full of idiots.”

Emery chuckled. “I’ll have to send some Rol’dan there to remind them of the error of their ways.”

An awkward silence followed.

“Where is King Kamalin?” Alec asked.

“I’ve given them rooms in the blue wing, on the third floor. It might not be the grandest section of the castle, but they’ll have more privacy.”

More awkward silence followed.

“So Nolan said you were married this morning?” Alec asked.

“O-officially, yes,” Emery stammered. “We’ll have a more traditional ceremony in a few months when Megan’s brother and the rest of our friends can make it here.”

Nolan took a step back. “If you’d excuse me, I’m not feeling well.”

“Do you need the light?” Emery asked, concern on his face.

Nolan shook his head. “The sun is too low. I’ll wait until tomorrow.” He turned and strode from the throne room, not saying another word.

The three of them stood in silence.

“So what’s going on?” Alec finally asked. Judging by all the foul moods, there was more to this than it seemed.

Megan bit her lip.

“Nolan filled me in on the specifics,” Alec added. “You don’t need to explain that part.”

A flush crept to her cheeks, but she nodded, seeming relieved.

Emery grimaced and ran a hand over his beard. “Nolan and I haven’t been talking much the last several days. We had a … um, disagreement.”

Megan crossed her arms over her chest, giving Emery one of those glares that turn men’s blood cold. It looked as if the disagreement didn’t stop with just Nolan.

Alec couldn’t put aside the idea that Nolan still had feelings for Megan. If so, it would be no wonder Nolan was so upset. She’d chosen Emery—a man nearly twice her age—over him. It would put any fellow in a foul mood.

What Nolan needed was a distraction, something—or someone—to focus on besides Megan. An idea formed in his mind, one that made Alec smile.

“Where’s Lieutenant Connelly?” Alec asked.

“She’s in the army, so her quarters are in the barracks,” Emery said.

Alec nodded, his resolve crumbling slightly. As much as he wanted to drag Nolan from his melancholy, he dreaded setting foot in those barracks. Most of the Rol’dan were a bunch of conceited twits. He sighed. “I guess I should turn in for the night. Congratulations again.”

“Thanks, Alec,” Megan said, giving him a strained smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Alec turned to leave and stopped, looking back at the couple. They sure didn’t seem like newlyweds. A tension rested between them like an invisible wall. Alec hoped they hadn’t gotten married because of the rumors. Of course, what did he know? The only time he’d been in love, she’d died. And now he was falling for a girl who would sail away on the next wave. Why care for anyone when you only lose them in the end?

Alec shoved his problems aside. He may not be able to do anything about his own nonexistent relationship, but he could do something for his friend. He left the castle, ignoring the watchful eyes of those assigned to guard the gate. Turning toward the barracks, he hesitated when he spotted a lone building on the way. Smoke rose from the chimney, and coal smoke filled the air. Alec turned from the barracks and headed toward the armory. He needed to talk to Father.

Chapter Sixteen

KARDOS DEVERELL DIDN’T NOTICE notice Alec; he was too absorbed in his work. Dark hair, peppered with gray, hung in strands around his face. Lines creased his eyes, and soot was smudged in the permanent scowl folds between his brows. His eyes glowed bright blue with his Precision Shay as he worked on the project in front of him. Alec wondered how long it would take his father to notice him there.

Kardos’s muscled arm hammered a steel rod—the start of one of his famous swords. A leather apron covered his shirtless chest, and numerous scars decorated his arms. They weren’t scars like Alec’s. These were burns marking his years at the forge. Alec watched his father longer, realizing he didn’t have one nightforsaken sword mark. Not once in all of those years had Alec been able to hit him.

That had to change.

Kardos’s face rose, his mind so absorbed it took him a moment to realize Alec was there. His hammer arm paused, and the light in his eyes faded to normal brown.

They stared at each other before Kardos finally spoke. “When did you get back?”

“Few hours ago.”

Kardos grunted and picked up a rod, shoving it into the coals. Wordlessly, Alec took his place at the bellows, slowly pumping it until the coals glowed. Kardos pulled the rod from the coals, and it shone white instead of the typical orange. Alec gawked. It was beautiful.

“This one has Guardian steel mixed in,” Kardos said, noticing Alec’s reaction.

“Father?” Alec said.

Kardos’s hammer arm paused over his head. His serious expression faltered, and he set down his hammer. “What’s wrong, Son?”

Alec didn’t know what to say, or why he’d come. They’d rarely talked. Most of his life, Kardos had been a tough man, pushing his son to fight and to hate. But since he’d come into his Precision, and since they’d found their new friends, he’d changed.

“I was wondering … ” Alec shifted from one foot to another. “ … have you ever moved on?”

Kardos’s brows furrowed. “Moved on? Moved on from where?”

“From Mother.”

Kardos blinked several times and then released an open-mouthed sigh. “Had to get rid of my hate, first. But I let it go. Not that I’ll ever stop loving her, but yes. I’ve finally moved on.”

Alec nodded. A Strength Rol’dan had killed his mother. Alec had watched it happen, watched him defile her first and then break her neck. Kardos’s obsession with the murder had absorbed both their lives. However, Alec knew if anyone could understand loss, it was Father. At least his father had someone to hate all those years. Taryn hadn’t been murdered. Alec could only hate himself.

“You thinking about that girl?” Kardos asked.

Alec nodded.

Kardos stepped toward him, and Alec wouldn’t meet his gaze. He shouldn’t have come. Just as Alec was going to dismiss the whole thing, his father wrapped his arms around him.

It was an awkward hug. They’d rarely shown much affection. Kardos’s arms were thick and warm from the forge—and he didn’t smell all that good either. He was about the same height as Alec, something he hadn’t noticed before. Typically, they spent their time two sword lengths apart.

“I’m so sorry, Son.” Kardos squeezed him. And, as much as Alec tried to pretend he didn’t hurt, an emotional dam broke loose, and he started to sob.

They stood for a while. After Alec spent his tears, Kardos gently pushed him away and yanked a sword from the wall. Were Father’s eyes red?

“All right, boy. No cheating with that Speed Shay of yours.”

Alec wiped his face with his sleeve and slid out his sword. He grinned. It was about time Kardos Deverell added some stripes to those forge-burned arms.

***

Alec grinned as he held his shoulder, covering a fresh gash. He considered going back to the castle to find Nolan to heal him, but Alec feared what kind of mood his friend would be in. Instead, he headed to the barracks. He’d get help there. Besides, he needed to send someone back to heal Father anyway.

After a trip to the healing barracks, Alec scanned the remaining buildings and found the golden flag of Speed. This is where he would’ve been placed had he taken the mantel of the Rol’dan. He squared his shoulders and made his way toward the building.

As with all the barracks, there was no need to knock. Each common room held an inn-like atmosphere. Food wafted through the air, and light conversations filled the room.

Rowdy laughter erupted from inside as the door opened, but it stilled to a dead silence when Alec entered. Apparently, killing Kael had given him quite the reputation. Kael sat at the largest table, a group of Rol’dan soldiers surrounding him. They’d lost their capes and jerkins but still wore their leather breeches and golden shirts; most were casually untied and no longer tucked in.

Kael rose and closed the distance as whispers trickled from the other soldiers. Kael’s blue eyes pierced into Alec, holding his gaze.

“Decide to join us?” Kael said, frowning. No matter how much they pretended to get along, Alec still hated the man.

“I’m looking for Lieutenant Connelly.”

“Ladies’ barracks are in the back. Her room is on the second floor, last room on the right.” Kael smirked. He seemed to know the ladies’ barracks well.

Alec left and looped around to the rear of the building, entering another door. A few ladies mingled in another common hall. He passed them, ignoring the smiles and whispers. When he reached her room, via Kael’s instruction, he barely touched it before the door flung open.

Kat Connelly wore only a thin nightshirt. No uniform. Legs bare. Alec stared before he pulled his eyes away.

“Alec?” she said, her face flushing. She grabbed a robe off a hook and slipped it over her gown. “I was just about to get a drink. Is everything okay?”

Alec cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”

“Let me get dressed, and I can meet you downstairs.”

“Would rather talk in private, if you don’t mind.”

She glanced down the hallway in each direction and motioned him in. Her room didn’t have much decor. Neat and organized books lined her desk from tallest to shortest. A quill and inkpot sat off to the side, aligned evenly. A candle burned, its red wax leaving trails down the side. Light flickered through a single window from the torchlight outside.

Kat’s hair was getting longer, still short, but more feminine than when he’d first met her. Loose curls framed her face. She was actually pretty when she tried not to dress like a boy. Her eyes flicked to the blood on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Stopped by to see my father.”

“Ah,” she answered with a knowing nod. She waited expectantly and finally said, “You wanted to talk?”

“Um, yeah.” Alec rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you about Nolan.”

She snorted and turned from him. “What about the Emissary?”

“Well, I figured, since you and he—”

“There is no him and me.”

“But I’ve seen you two together.”

“And I’ve seen you with him,” she added. “Does that make you two an item?”

Alec blinked. “Oh, for Brim’s sake. You know what I mean. What about you two in the bedroom?” He crossed his arms over his chest, triumphant. She couldn’t deny what he’d seen at the inn in Renfrew.

Her face paled, then reddened. “Who told—” She scowled. “I’m not sure what happened in Megan’s room. I have no idea why he tore open my shirt and kissed me. Now he doesn’t even talk to me. Doesn’t respond to my notes. Doesn’t answer when I knock. And when I do see him, he avoids me like a disease. He doesn’t see me at all.”

Alec had stopped listening halfway through Kat’s rant. Tore open her shirt?

“Alec?” Kat said

“Um, yeah,” Alec said, shaking off his shock. “What were you saying … about your shirt?”

“My blouse. In Megan’s room?”

“I was … um … talking about the inn in Renfrew. What happened in Megan’s room?”

Kat’s face turned an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I-I thought that Nolan told you. Forget I said anything.”

Alec shook his head. There was no way he could forget that. However, tearing her shirt on purpose didn’t sound like Nolan. He would barely speak to a girl, let alone rip off her clothes. But of course, that was the old Nolan, before he became a half-Guardian. Maybe the new Nolan was braver.

Then Alec remembered when he’d found them in Kat’s room in Renfrew, how embarrassed Nolan had become when he’d discovered his lack of clothes. No. He hadn’t changed. He wouldn’t have ripped open a woman’s shirt if he’d been himself. Nolan was the most controlled fellow Alec had ever known.

Alec huffed. “Well, it would explain why he’s avoiding you.”

“How does it explain anything?”

“He’s avoiding you because he’s embarrassed.” She started to protest, but he ignored her and kept speaking. “When I first met Nolan, he’d hidden his Precision Shay for two years.”

“He … he hid his power?”

“Yes. He hid it from his own brother. He hid it from the Duke of Alton. He hid it from a whole town full of soldiers. The only reason anyone found out was because of Emery.” He gripped Kat’s arm. “Can you even imagine trying to hold back your Shay?”

She shook her head. “It’d be impossible.”

“Impossible,” he said. “Except for Nolan.”

“So what does that have to do with this?”

“My guess is he’s so embarrassed about losing control, he can’t face you.”

“No,” she said. “If he’s as controlled as you say he is, then why would he lose it and kiss me? It’s even more obvious he did it on purpose, to make Megan jealous. It’s the only reason I can come up with.”

Alec opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. She had a point. It would confirm Alec’s suspicions that Nolan still had feelings for Megan. However, Nolan wasn’t like that. He could see Kael using someone, but not Nolan. Never. There must’ve been something else going on. He’d have to talk to Nolan and figure things out. “He doesn’t use people.”

“Maybe this time—”

“No. I know him. He isn’t that way.”

Kat stared ahead in consideration. Finally, her brows furrowed. “What about Megan? He liked her at one time, didn’t he?”

Alec couldn’t deny it. He shrugged. “She’s married now. She’s no threat to you. And, who says that someone can’t care for two people at the same time?”

Alec flinched, his own words smacking him as Rayen flashed in his mind. Could he really like the girl? Taryn hadn’t been gone but a few short months; how could he fall for someone else so soon? But, by his own words, he’d claimed it possible.

“Alec?” Kat said. “Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” he said, shaking off his revelation.

“So you think … he’s embarrassed?”

“It’s only a guess.”

The hope faded from Kat’s expression.

“Although,” Alec quickly added, “when I walked in on you two at the inn in Renfrew, you distracted him so much, he didn’t even realize he’d forgotten his clothes.”

Alec remembered Nolan’s red face, seeing the horror spread across his friend’s expression. Nolan kept his composure so often, Alec had enjoyed watching him squirm. “I’d say he’s interested in you.”

She licked her lips. “So what should I do? For being interested, he’s ignored me enough.”

After a good hour of discussion, they decided that getting Nolan away from the castle would be the best option. They also decided Kat might want a more subtle approach, even if it would be difficult controlling her thoughts. Alec would arrange a trip tomorrow, after Nolan woke and had taken the light of the stones, and they would run into Kat “accidently”. At some point, Alec would go back and work at the armory, leaving Kat and Nolan alone.

There were major flaws in this plan. Since Nolan’s transformation, he’d become even more aware of things. They’d have to control their emotions at all times. For Alec, this would be nearly impossible. Which meant the plan was doomed to fail.

Still, Alec would try. He hadn’t been a good friend to Nolan since Nolan’s transformation. Alec struggled with forgiveness—a trait he shared with his father. But Nolan had tried to do the right thing by bringing his conceited twit of a brother back to life. It wasn’t Nolan’s fault that Kael was Kael.

He headed back to the castle, thankful to be away from the Rol’dan barracks. As he passed the armory, he noticed the smoke still trailing above, a sign his father was still working. He’d have a chance to get to sleep before Father’s thunderous snores took over.

It’d been a good night overall. He’d gotten off the nightforsaken boat, finally, though he suspected his land sickness was returning. He’d beaten his father for the first time and given him a pair of scars to remember it by. And he’d taken a step to help Nolan, but he wasn’t sure how well it would work out in the end. Alec paused, and the building ahead seemed to pitch and fall like the sea. Whatever Greer had done was wearing off.

Where did the Guardians go? Maybe Emery knew. He entered the castle, but before he turned to Emery’s room, he hesitated. Surely he wouldn’t want to be bothered on his wedding night.

Nolan could help him, but his power was already low. Nolan needed to rest.

Then he considered Rayen’s tea. It had helped him before. He clenched his hands into fists, uncertain whether he wanted to see Rayen or not. He didn’t quite know his feelings for the girl, so he avoided thinking about her at all. Besides, who knew how much longer the Talasians would stay, especially since Emery turned down Kamalin’s proposition. They might match her to someone else in the kingdom, a duke or someone in position. Alec tensed, not wanting to even consider the possibility. Even as he fought with himself, his feet led him to the blue wing where the Talasians were staying.

The first thing Alec noticed when he stepped into the hall was the absence of light. The flames from the lanterns, which typically lit the hall, were gone. Maybe the Talasians had put them out. Were they afraid of the fire? Alec descended one floor, where nobody currently slept, and borrowed a lantern from the wall.

As he ascended the stairs, he noticed another oddity. He hadn’t seen a single Rol’dan guard. He at least expected some of Kamalin’s warriors. But there wasn’t a sign of them. Maybe he’d misunderstood and Emery had put them somewhere else.

Alec grunted. He remembered Emery saying they would be placed in the blue wing. Or maybe they’d rejected his offer and returned to the boat. He held the light high, inspecting the empty hall one last time. Then he caught sight of a thin trail of dark liquid leading across the floor. It disappeared behind a closed door.

Alec froze, listening. The castle droned with eerie quiet. He bent and swiped the stain, examining it next to his lantern. Blood coated his fingers.

Alec shifted the lantern to his other hand to free his sword arm. He slid out his weapon as quietly as he could and followed the trail, his heart thundering a heavy cadence. At the end of the blood trail, a door hung loosely closed, latch broken.

He nudged it, and it opened silently. The lantern light splashed across the floor, first catching on a boot, then a leg, and then it revealed both Rol’dan and Talasian bodies piled, one on top of another.

Blood pooled under them like a large rug. Their faces were so distorted and crushed in they were unrecognizable.

Alec turned, his stomach rolling. He swallowed back bile. What the Darkness had happened? Fear spiked, and he jerked his head around, looking for the murderer. But the hall still lay in silence, undisturbed, except for the mutilated bodies. He sucked in a breath. Rayen!

Heart thundering, he scanned the corpses. All men. He dashed into the hall, pushing open each broken door as he passed. Dead warriors lay in each of the beds. His head swayed with dizziness. He had to find her. Oh, Brim. Don’t let her die too.

As he reached the end of the hall, he heard voices. He pushed the door open and froze.

Two Rol’dan soldiers held the Talasian king between them. A shirtless Rol’dan, with a long beard, pinned a struggling Rayen to the ground. He was removing his belt with one hand and holding her with the other. He hadn’t noticed Alec.

Alec’s vision clouded with rage as he flared his Speed. How dare he touch her! Then a memory flashed in his mind, freezing him in place.

Another time … another place … a different bearded Rol’dan taking off his clothes … another woman being held down. His mother. He sucked in a breath as long-suppressed memories forcibly ripped free.

White-hot rage swelled. It abruptly ended with pain erupting through Alec’s head and a curtain of darkness yanking over his mind.

Chapter Seventeen

ALEC GASPED, FILLING HIS ACHING LUNGS. A scream choked from his throat as cracking bone reverberated through his skull. Greer squatted over him, his large hands pressed to either side of his head. Worry melted from the Guardian’s angular, glowing face.

“He’s alive!” a voice said.

Alec blinked back the darkness threatening to close in. His head throbbed as if his father had knocked him in his temple with a blacksmith’s hammer. Somehow, he’d survived.

“There’s another in here!” a voice yelled.

Greer disappeared, and Emery replaced him in Alec’s vision. He looked haggard and pale.

“Alec,” Emery said. “Can you hear me?”

Alec touched his face and came away with blood-coated fingers. More blood pooled on the floor around him. Memories of what happened flared back to life. The soldiers were gone, along with Rayen and the king. The blood he lay in was his own.

“Alec,” Emery said, “what happened?”

He remembered the trail of blood and the dead warriors. Then he envisioned Rayen and the soldier hovering above her, a man just like the one who had murdered his mother; he’d replayed that moment in his dreams for years.

He met Emery’s concerned eyes, but Alec’s emotions seethed. Emery had let the soldier defile her. He’d let him kill her. His mother was dead because of him. Finding a burst of strength, Alec punched Emery square in the face.

Emery grunted, falling backward into Alec’s blood; Megan gasped and went to his side.

Arms grabbed Alec, hauling him to his feet, holding him roughly.

General Kael Trividar stepped to him and leaned in. “What in the Darkness was that about?”

“He killed her!”

“The princess?” Kael asked. “She’s dead?”

“No.” Alec’s breath came heavy, his anger swelling. “My mother. The soldier killed her, and he watched her die!”

Emery’s jaw fell, then he shook his head, regaining his composure. “He’s hallucinating.” He rose, with some help from Megan, and motioned toward Alec. “Let him go.”

“Are you certain, Your Majesty? We can lock him in—”

“Let. Him. Go.”

The soldiers jerked back, surprised. Reluctantly, they released Alec’s arms.

Alec staggered, only then realizing how much the men had supported him. And the pressure in his head throbbed like a small drum against his skull.

Emery approached him, staring him in the eye. “Alec, we talked about this already. That man is dead. Alcandor killed him years ago. If you need to, we can discuss it again. But for now, we need to know what happened tonight. We need to find the Talasian king and his daughter. What happened?”

Alec blinked back a wave of dizziness, past and present meshing into one horrific memory. His mother. No, not his mother. Rayen. Rayen is in trouble.

“Take Alec to a room upstairs,” Emery said. “Let him rest. Hopefully, he’ll gain back some—”

“Rol’dan!” Alec blurted out. “It was Rol’dan.”

Kael cursed and spat on the ground. “Which ones?”

“A b-beard. He had a long beard.”

“Well that helps a lot,” Kael said, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Narrows it down to half the Strength Rol’dan.”

Alec blinked, his vision clearing slightly. “A p-patch, over his eye.”

“Ekon,” Kael sneered.

Alec examined himself. The stain on his shoulder looked like a minor scratch compared to the gore covering him now. He reached for his empty sheath. His sword was gone.

A soldier approached Kael and saluted.

“Report,” Kael said.

“General, sir.” The soldier’s mouth pressed into a tight line.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Kael pressed.

“We’ve found the Talasian king.”

Silence hung heavily over the group.

“Your Majesty. He’s dead.”

Alec’s head spun. Why had I hesitated? I could’ve saved the king! Instead, I just stood there gawking. And what happened to Rayen?

“His body hangs from a tree near the docks.” The lieutenant hesitated. “They sliced him open and let him bleed to death.”

“And the girl?” Alec blurted.

The lieutenant pulled his gaze from the king to Alec. “We didn’t see anyone else. Only the king.”

“And the Talasian ship?” Kael asked.

“Gone, my lord.”

Emery ran a hand through his dark hair and paced. He scanned the room until he found Maska, who’d been standing toward the rear of the room. “Maska. What does this mean?”

Maska frowned. “They will return to Talasi. And most likely return with their army. We must prepare for war.”

“How does succession work, Maska?” Emery asked. “Who leads them now?”

“His children are his heirs. If the girl lives, then the rule belongs to her. If she’s dead as well, leadership passes to the war commander.” He frowned. “And if it’s the same man who commanded the army when I left … he isn’t one who promotes peace.”

“We must find the girl,” Emery said.

“What if she left on the boat?” Kael asked.

Alec’s stomach dropped. “I don’t see how she could’ve escaped.”

“Then we’ll assume they took her,” Emery said. “General Trividar, prepare a rescue team.”

Kael saluted, flared his Shay, and disappeared.

Emery strode from the room, followed by the Rol’dan soldiers.

Alec jogged to catch up, but by the time he reached them, his head was swimming.

Emery caught his arm. “You need to rest.”

He yanked away. “No. I need to find her.”

“You aren’t in a condition to do anything.”

“I’ll take the stone. It’ll restore my strength, and then I’ll be fine.”

Emery’s gaze flicked to Megan, and an unspoken conversation passed between them.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked.

“The stones are gone.”

Alec stared. “But … Nolan has the … ” His voice drifted off. He turned, searching for his friend. Where was Nolan?

“We went to get Nolan when we heard the commotion,” Emery said. “His belongings are gone, as well as him and the stones.”

“He left?” Alec said, stunned. He knew he’d been in a bad mood, but why would he run away? “Where’d he go?”

Emery shrugged. “Don’t know. We would question the gate guards, but they’re dead. Nobody saw Nolan leave.”

Why would Nolan leave when they need him? He must’ve gone before this whole mess started. If he’d been here, it would not have happened. Nolan would’ve heard it with his sharp senses and come to the rescue. Instead, he had crept away without telling anyone? Why?

“We’ll have to make do without him,” Emery said, his face tired and pale. “I’m sure the General will have Perception Rol’dan tracking them soon.”

“I can run ahead and have a look—”

“No, Alec. You can barely stand.”

Alec’s fists tightened. He remembered what that monster tried to do to her. It might already be too late.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Emery said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you?” Alec shrugged his hand away. “Like the way you helped my mother?”

Emery sighed. “Alec, that was a long time ago.”

Alec knew Emery didn’t deserve his harsh words, but the horrible memory was too fresh in his mind. He couldn’t go upstairs and calmly lay there—no matter how much Emery tried to convince him everything was under control. As Emery opened his mouth to make another irritating comment, Alec flared his Speed and sped away.

He rushed past the armory, zipping in to grab a sword. His father was equipping a group of soldiers and barely noticed Alec’s arrival and departure. He waved as Alec left.

Alec headed for the gate; a group of Rol’dan tended to the dead. Greer stood among them, apparently healing someone who’d been lucky enough to survive. He eyed Alec as he passed but said nothing to stop him.

The moon hung lower in the sky than what he’d remembered when going into the castle. Ekon and his friends had probably gained some distance. Alec detoured, heading toward the gypsy camp. He doubted the others had bothered to think of them. They might’ve seen Ekon. If not, maybe they’d seen Nolan leave.

When he reached their camp, wagon tracks led away. The gypsies were nowhere to be seen. Useless gypsies. The one time they could’ve been helpful, they’d made themselves scarce. He’d have to search for Rayen and the traitorous Rol’dan on his own.

For the next several hours, Alec scoured the forest around Faylinn. He had to stop frequently. His head would cloud over, and his knees trembled. Most of the time, he could only walk, not using Speed at all.

When he found nothing, he headed west. The forest grew thicker, obscuring any sign of travel—not that he’d be able to tell. He’d never been good at tracking, even during the day.

Lightness hovered in his brain, as if he’d had too much drink. He wondered if Emery had been right after all. He hoped he wouldn’t collapse in the forest. He’d hate to have survived the soldiers only to be eaten by a wild animal while lying unconscious in the woods.

Finally, he spotted light: a campfire. He reluctantly blew out his lantern and set it at the base of a tree. He took a step and a branch cracked under his feet. He cursed under his breath and crept forward with as much stealth as an ox in heat. Voices drifted, followed by a round of raucous laughter.

Alec pushed aside a branch and saw a group of Rol’dan soldiers gathered around a campfire. Most of them had discarded parts of their uniforms. One threw his red cape into the fire, nearly snuffing the flame. The flames broke through, licking higher, lighting the area brightly until it returned to its normal flame. Alec scanned the camp, noticing only five soldiers. For so few of them, they’d certainly caused a lot of deaths and trouble for Faylinn.

On the outskirts of the fire’s light, Alec saw her. With hands and feet tied to a tree, Rayen couldn’t move. She tried to speak around the gag shoved in her mouth, but she hardly made a sound. At least she was dressed. Hopefully, they hadn’t yet done anything to her. Her eyes were red, as if crying. Apparently it had been too much; she’d let her Talasian guard fall.

Ekon tossed his cape on top of the other one, and a roll of dark smoke rose into the air. He slapped his hands together, cleaning off the dirt.

“Wonder what’s going on at the castle?” a man said.

Ekon grinned behind his shaggy beard. “We’ll go check in the morning when we leave the little wench’s body there.”

The men laughed.

“Too bad the boy interrupted us. We could’ve gotten it all over with by now.”

Ekon ran a hand over his beard, pulling. “Aye, true. But now we can take our time.”

Alec gripped a branch, anger rolling inside him. His land sickness and lightheadedness were gone. Or, if they were still bothering him, he couldn’t tell. The emotions pulsing through him were far stronger than anything else.

Ekon undid his shirt and turned toward Rayen. She whimpered and yanked against her bonds. Alec pushed down his panic, remembering too well what happened last time. He doubted he could survive another crush to the skull, especially now when he had so little left to bleed.

The party consisted of three Strength Rol’dan, one Precision Rol’dan, and one with Speed. He didn’t know this Speed fellow, but he knew he’d be the one to strike first … after he stopped Ekon.

Just as Ekon reached for Rayen, Alec summoned his Speed.

Time slowed.

Alec burst from the trees, catching the eye of the Speed Rol’dan. He raced to Ekon, jumping over the reclined figures of the other two Strength men. Swinging back—Ekon hadn’t seen him yet—he thrust his sword into Ekon’s ribs. His arm vibrated like he had struck his father’s anvil.

It should’ve skewered him like a wild boar. Instead, it only gouged him. Ekon yelled out, growling, and turned. Their eyes met.

Rayen yelled behind her gag.

Alec spun, yanking his sword from the groove in Ekon’s flesh, and he met the Speed man’s blow. Fear flicked in the man’s eyes with recognition. There were positives to having a reputation.

The battle didn’t last long, for the man had few skills. Alec killed him quickly, trying to make it hurt as much as he could.

He paused only briefly, but enough to allow an arrow to slam into his side. Alec screamed, and his Speed abruptly left him.

“Kill him!” Ekon said.

Alec turned toward the Precision soldier who frantically loaded his bow. Alec flared his Speed and took him out quickly, slashing him across the throat.

The three remaining soldiers, all bearded and ugly, glared at him, lining up side by side. Their eyes glowed brightly with red light.

Ekon smiled. “Didn’t we kill you, boy?”

Alec snorted. “You tried.”

With a flick of his hand, Ekon signaled the other two men. They separated, surrounding Alec.

Alec’s side twinged with pain, the arrow wound now oozing red. It would be hard to fight them like this. He broke the protruding arrow shaft off—he’d deal with it later. Turning toward his attackers, he assessed the situation. Their Strength-enhanced skin was too strong to take them all down. He locked sight on Ekon. He’d at least take this one.

Diving toward Ekon, he put everything behind the strike. It hit and deflected off his throat, leaving a nasty scratch.

Ekon’s eyes flicked upward, over Alec’s shoulder. Alec ducked as a Rol’dan fist came toward his head and then he enjoyed the view as the man slammed into Ekon instead.

Alec flashed into normal speed, watching the spectacular crack as the soldier’s Strength-enhanced fist struck bone. He flared Speed again, observing in slow motion as Ekon’s nose flattened. Blood spouted, cascading, staining his shirt in brilliant red.

Remembering the third soldier, he turned and gasped as a large rock swirled toward him. He dodged, barely, and it passed him—heading straight for Rayen.

Alec closed the distance to the whirling rock and pushed against it, ignoring the pain erupting in his side. He deflected the rock from its course, and it tumbled past her head, smashing into the brush behind her.

The soldiers regrouped. One clutched a large hammer while the other lifted a second rock. With time, Alec could take them. He could manipulate them into killing each other. But his vision faltered. He only just held on to consciousness.

Holding back his regret—this might be the only chance to avenge her father—he sliced the bindings at Rayen’s hands and feet. As the three soldiers came toward them, he lifted Rayen—staggering as he did—flared his Speed, and disappeared into the wilderness.

Chapter Eighteen

NOLAN SHIFTED HIS ATTENTION to a flickering campfire as light danced off nearby trees. Laughter broke through, and a fiddle played a quiet, merry tune. Nolan squeezed his hands into fists, wishing he could strike some of the happiness out of them—whoever they were.

He forced himself up, grabbing the iron bars for support. As soon as his hands touched the cold metal, the bars glowed. Yanking his hands away, he closed his eyes. What in Brim’s light happened to him?

The last thing he remembered was trudging off to his room on the eve of Emery’s wedding day. A bottle of ale sat on his desk with a thick-handled mug next to it. He had drunk some to drown away his pathetic sorrows, but he’d only had one glass—not even a glass—and everything after that was gone.

Nolan attempted to sit again, smacking his dry tongue on his lips; his mouth tasted bad. There must’ve been something else in his drink. Poison, maybe? But who would’ve poisoned him? And why? He strained, trying to see in the dim light. He’d attempted to use Perception, to see who his captors were, but the effort had left him unconscious. His power was too low.

Tentatively, he raised a hand to the bars, touching a fingertip to the metal. Once again, it softly glowed. His Shay pulled away from him, leaching into the metal. He yanked away, rubbing his fingertips together. Guardian steel.

Nolan scanned his environment. Woods bordered his cage. Dark, shadowy Nass danced around a campfire, shooting up and disappearing into the night sky. Other cages, similar to his own, lined a small clearing. Light flickered off more shapes in those cages, which rested atop wheeled wagons.

In one enclosure, a two-headed bear slumped in a corner. Another held a woman with four arms. Reading a book by lantern light, she used two of her arms, while the other two petted something furry in her lap.

Nolan turned and found another cage. This one held … Nolan sucked in a breath. A Guardian stood, and their eyes met. Not Greer, Malik, or Sanawan. Another Guardian. As he opened his mouth to speak to this new Guardian, a figure approached from the shadows, slinking toward Nolan’s cage. He sat straighter; finally, he’d see his captor.

Long, olive legs and numerous braids stepped into the fire’s light. The metal from her bracelets clinked on her slender wrists. It was Jezebelle, the gypsy.

“Ah! He is awake, at last.”

Suppressed anger made Nolan’s body tremble. Jezebelle had poisoned him? He ran a hand over his chin, realization fermenting. Was he now a part of some sideshow, some freakish gypsy attraction? He’d heard of them before but had never seen one … until now. How could he have let this happen?

A memory, Jezebelle’s words, rang in his head. “This isn’t over, freak. You will be mine.”

Nolan stood, and his world lurched. He grabbed the bars to catch his fall, but once again, the bars glowed—Shay light leaked from his hands to the steel. He flared his Strength, pulled against the bars, and his vision darkened.

***

Nolan awoke to a chorus of singing birds. Sunlight splashed through the bars of his cage, sending stripes of shadow over him. He sat, or tried to at least, feeling weaker than he had before, his powers nearly depleted. He punched the floor to his cage. What was he thinking? He wasn’t strong enough, didn’t have enough Shay, to break through a cage made with Guardian steel. He’d been too angry, so intent on breaking her traitorous neck, he’d forgotten to restrain himself.

He couldn’t use any more. Brim had told him he would die without the stones or the light. At his full strength, he might be able to break free. But he’d gone to his room weak—it was stupid of him to allow his power to get so low. He’d used too much when the Talasian ships appeared. He’d sapped most of his power soothing people, trying to keep the peace. He should’ve taken the stones right after, but instead, he’d opted to sleep. Where were the stones? He needed them.

He scanned the other cages again and met the stare of the Guardian. Who was he? How did they keep him locked away? Maybe they’d imprisoned him in another cage of Guardian steel. Nolan could speak to the Guardian with his mind, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t use any more power.

A metal plate clanked to the floor of his cage and scraped across the ground, passing under the bars. A gypsy man with hair knotted in thick, sausage-like links stood at the side of his cage. He shoved a glass of brown water in after.

“Miss Jezebelle is still trying to come up with a name for you,” he said.

“I already have a name,” Nolan snapped.

The gypsy strode away, his gait relaxed and bouncing. He headed to the fire and threw a bucket of water on the flames. The blaze hissed and smoke rose into the air. A few gypsies climbed onto their horses while others piled into a wagon filled with women and young children. For the first time, he noticed the wooden plaques affixed to the top of each cage.

Two-headed bear.

Octopus Woman.

Lizard Man.

Lizard Man? On the Guardian’s cage?

His prison cart lurched, knocking the glass over and spilling a trail of water on the dirt-caked floor. The plate of food slid, and Nolan caught it before it could slip under the bars. The smell of food wafted, making his stomach complain in a low grumble. How long had it been since he’d eaten? It was a hunk of deer meat, he suspected, along with a pile of wild greens. With more impulse than thought, he ripped into the meat, swallowing it before he chewed.

After he cleaned his plate, he leaned back; the cage jostled with each bump and stone. Thick fog covered his mind, and he wondered if his food had been poisoned like the drink in his room. His answer came as the heavy feeling of drugs clouded over his thoughts.

***

He woke, his head aching. The angle of the sun shone well past midday. He glanced over, expecting to see the ring of cages once again. But instead, they’d lined up his cage with the others from end to end.

“He’s awake,” a female voice said.

The four-armed woman stared at him. Arranged like a formal sitting room—apart from the bars on all four sides—her cage held a comfortable chair in one corner, and a colorful rug lay on the clean floor. She sat in her chair; her skirts were short, showing nearly the entirety of her legs. One set of her arms rested on the arms of the chair, the other pair arranged her graying hair.

“What are you supposed to be?” she asked. “A strong man? You look the part of a strong man, but you don’t act so very strong. And you’re not deformed.”

Nolan examined himself, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of his clothes. He’d been stripped and wore only a piece of cloth covering both sides of his private regions, much like the Talasian warriors. It was more revealing than the blanket. Who’d dressed him? And when?

He stood on unsteady feet as his head throbbed. He almost instinctively grabbed the bars of his cage but stopped his hand inches from touching it.

The woman whistled. “You are a big boy, aren’t you? I can see why they brought you here. I would pay to see you.”

“Leave him be, Morna,” a voice said.

Nolan turned and saw the Guardian standing in the neighboring cage.

“Hideous, isn’t he?” Morna said with a chuckle. “He always attracts a good crowd. No wonder Jezebelle put you next to him—to give them something pretty to look at next to the ugliness.”

The Guardian had bronze, straight hair that ran halfway down his back. His square jaw had no facial hair at all, like his fellow Guardian counterparts. And his white-orbed eyes continued to examine Nolan. Wearing the same skimpy loincloth, the Guardian’s golden armor was gone. He’d never seen a Guardian without their armor. It made Nolan’s defined muscles look small in comparison. The Guardian’s skin glowed, even in the light of the sun. Magnificent, not ugly at all.

Nolan stepped toward him, getting as close to the bars as he dared. Only two arm lengths separated their cages. Nolan met his eyes and said softly, “I see you, Guardian.”

The Guardian’s stony expression dropped, shock smacking him across the face. His arms dropped from the bars, and he took several steps back.

“All right, my creatures.” Jezebelle appeared in front of the cages, jumping on a tree stump and facing them. “We’ll have a good crowd tonight. Remember … behave. Do your part, and there might be something extra for you come morning.”

Jezebelle jumped from the stump and sauntered to Nolan’s cage, a confident strut in her step. She stopped in front of him, displaying pristine, white teeth.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Nolan said, his threat pathetic. They both knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon.

She laughed. “Will you, Emissary? What do you think of your cage? We were told it could hold even a Strength Rol’dan; I doubted it at first, but it seems to confine you quite well.”

Nolan leaned forward, hoping the wench would step close enough for him to reach through and snap her neck. But she kept her distance. Unfortunately, she was smarter than he’d expected.

Life exploded before him. A musician started playing a lyre. The man sang, but somehow two voices came from his throat at the same time. Another man juggled, tossing a dozen balls in the air. A woman juggled next to him, except she swung fiery torches. Nolan stared. If he wasn’t a part of the spectacle, he might have been impressed.

Jezebelle grinned. “The show is about to begin.”

The crowd came next. Couples dressed in fine garments. Merchants with families in tow. Men and women of all ages poured into the clearing, handing coins to a gypsy waiting at the entrance into the clearing. The spectators laughed and pointed at all the sights to see.

Nolan turned to where Jezebelle stood, except she’d already left. He caught sight of her braids and heard her laughter drifting over the growing crowd. Clenching his fists, his nails bit into his palms. He’d get out of this cage and make her regret it—as soon as he figured out how.

A pair of male gypsies approached, both carrying long spears. They eyed Nolan with amusement.

“Are you ready for this?” the one said to the other.

“Of course. Let’s have some fun.”

“Ew! Look at that, Mummy,” a child’s voice said. A family stared at the Guardian, disgust plastered on their faces.

A gypsy stood in front of the cage and said, “See the lizard man, dragged from the swamps of Boden. His flesh is hard as stone and as dry as the tips of the Tremain Mountains. One bite from his deadly fangs will leave one paralyzed while he consumes their flesh.”

The boy squealed and buried his face in his mother’s skirts.

Nolan snorted. He’d never heard such a load of horse droppings. It did, at least, explain why the “Lizard Man” sign hung on his cage. For some odd reason, the Guardian had chosen the form of a freak.

The family proceeded forward, stopping in front of Nolan’s cage. Nolan crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. If they thought he’d perform, they would be sorely disappointed.

“See the ancient warrior of Mina …” the gypsy said, his accent thick. He flung out an arm, presenting Nolan. “Found on the islands of Orama. Starving. Nearly dead. We saved him and brought him here. Some say the warriors of Mina are much like the feared Rol’dan, taking the secret powers for their own. Except, unlike the Rol’dan, they can obtain more than one power. And they are much larger than any normal man.”

Nolan groaned. Ridiculous! How did they come up with this tripe? For Brim’s sake, he didn’t have to put up with this. He uncrossed his arms and turned to the family, just as the other gypsy rammed the spear through the cage.

Pain tore into Nolan’s gut. He gasped, his eyes dropping to the impaling spear. The gypsy yanked it out, tearing it free. Nolan blinked, too stunned to speak.

The woman turned her face away, a cry escaping her lips.

“Do not fear, maiden,” the gypsy crooned. “Watch and see the magic of the Mina warrior.”

Nolan crumpled to his knees, gasping. He brought his hand to the wound and blood ran down his side, his leg, trailing to the floor of his cage and dripping through the slats. Even though his powers were nearly gone, his Healing responded; green light filled his eyes as his wound closed.

The family applauded, pleased with Nolan’s performance. They moved on to the next cage, where Morna danced using all four arms.

Nolan’s limbs trembled, his body spent. He’d healed the wound, but at what cost?

Other observers came, and the gypsies repeated the atrocity. First the story. Then the spear. Nolan tried to dodge, attempted to grab the wooden shaft, but he could hardly move. With each spear thrust, his body’s self-preservation used Healing. And with each wound, he weakened.

Body trembling, Nolan stayed on his knees the rest of the night. Nass slithered through his bars and across his cage, as if mocking him. Nolan hadn’t the strength to do anything about it. Instead, his mind drifted between consciousness and dark void, as he desperately clutched onto life.

Chapter Nineteen

NOLAN WOKE with a finger in his mouth.

He yanked back from the hand, gagging at the strange taste. The Guardian stood next to his cage, his arm laced through the bars. Light swirled up from a small slice in the Guardian’s finger, then it disappeared as the wound closed.

Night had fallen. The crowds dribbled away, leaving the clearing eerily quiet. The moon glowed only a sliver in the sky. It was a black night, one of the darkest Nolan had seen. The light around the Guardian glowed, though not as brightly as it should.

Nolan flinched at a sharp pain at his side. His head dropped, and the spear wound sealed closed with Healing.

“You were dying,” the Guardian said, his voice deep and rumbling. “You would not respond to my Healing, which is strange. Your body failed to heal on its own. I did what I could.”

The Guardian had shared his light. “H-how’d you do that?”

He shrugged one large shoulder. “I was uncertain if it would work, although I am glad it did.”

The Guardian stood in the grass just outside Nolan’s cage. He’d released himself from his own confinement somehow.

“I have never seen the likes of you before.” The Guardian cocked his head, his white eyes examining him. “I sense the Shay powers inside you, but I can feel the power of the Guardian as well.” He placed his large palm on his own chest. “And you can see me. How do you know what I am?”

“I can see the true forms of all Guardians,” Nolan said. “Greer. Sanawen. Malik.”

The Guardian’s posture stiffened. “Greer? He lives?”

“Yes. And if you get me out of here, I’ll take you to them. They are at the castle in Faylinn.”

The Guardian shook his broad head. “No. I must stay.”

“Why?” Nolan asked. “The new king is a friend to Guardians. You’d be welcomed.”

“The king might welcome me; Greer would not.”

Nolan scratched the back of his neck. Why wouldn’t Greer welcome him? He’d want to know of another living Guardian, wouldn’t he?

Nolan reached for the bars, then hesitated, remembering not to touch them. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I cannot. It is Guardian steel. Neither you nor I can move those bars.”

“Where in Brim’s light did she get a Guardian steel cage?”

He dropped his gaze, examining his feet. Suddenly, the Guardian resembled a child caught stealing pastries before dinner.

“You?” Nolan asked, scowling. “Why in the Darkness did you give her a cage?”

“I … well … ” He released a breath of air. “She spoke of wanting to contain one with Strength. As far as I knew, only the Rol’dan had Strength. I have seen many of those men do terrible things. I would not pity them caged.”

Nolan’s mouth dropped open. This Guardian was far different than the others he’d met. Greer would never talk of caging a human.

“Greer is nobler than I,” he said, answering Nolan’s thoughts. “However, our vows are against killing mankind. It says nothing about caging them, especially if they deserve it.”

Nolan snorted. “Why have such a cage to begin with?”

The Guardian raised his glowing eyes to meet his. “We originally created it for Alcandor.”

Nolan stood and staggered. Alcandor had been locked … in here? He shook his head. How odd that, after locking Alcandor away, Nolan would end up in the same cage that once held the fallen Guardian. With more impulse than thought, Nolan reached for the bars, desperation urging him to escape. Immediately, the bars glowed, pulling on his Shays. The meager power Nolan held wilted. He staggered, his knees buckling; he fell to his hands.

“Hold still,” the Guardian said. He produced a small dagger and passed it into the bars of the cage. Before Nolan could stop him, the Guardian brought the blade to his fingertip and pulled. He grunted softly as the stripe of white shone on his finger, and silver blood traced its way down. He shoved his finger into Nolan’s mouth.

Nolan flinched, gagging, but stopped as Brim’s light leaked inside him. The Guardian’s blood didn’t taste like any blood he’d tasted before—or like anything else for that matter. He leaned into the Guardian’s hand, feeling the tremors in his body relaxing. Then, abruptly, the Guardian yanked his hand away. “I’m sorry. That is all I can share for now.”

The light around the Guardian had dimmed even more; his eyes were less luminous.

“I’m sorry,” Nolan said, his voice coming out in a rasp.

The Guardian gave a tired smile. “I am glad I am able to help you. But if you could refrain from using your powers tonight, or touching the bars, it would be helpful. The sun will be out soon, and you can replenish yourself then.”

Nolan shook his head. “No. The sun does nothing for me. I need the stones.”

“The stones?”

“The stones of Brim.”

Nolan shared how they’d found the first, and how it called to him. He shared how he’d gotten his powers, and the story of his death and transformation. The Guardian didn’t speak through it all, his face unreadable.

“So the stones are recovered?” the Guardian finally asked.

“Yes. And I need to stand in their light soon. I can’t live without them.”

“I will find them for you if I can,” the Guardian said. “First, I need to return this dagger before Jezebelle realizes it is missing. Morning is soon upon us. I will return once it is dark; we can speak more then.” His angular face studied him. “There is another performance tonight.”

Nolan frowned, puzzled. Then realization, and dread, fell over him. “Which means they will do it again.”

Sympathy lines creased the Guardian’s brow. “Yes. I will help you once I have rested.”

He slipped his arms from Nolan’s cage, but Nolan grabbed his large wrist. The Guardian’s eyes fixed on Nolan’s, his eyebrows raised.

“What’s your name?” Nolan asked.

The Guardian blinked. “My name?”

“Yes, your name. You do have a name, don’t you?

The Guardian nodded slowly before speaking. “My name … is Rikar.”

Nolan squeezed his wrist. “Thank you, Rikar.”

Rikar swallowed loudly. “You are most welcome, Master … ”

“Nolan.”

“You are most welcome, Master Nolan,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Nolan released his hold, and Rikar slid his hand from the bars, carefully avoiding touching the steel. He then retreated, heading toward the center of camp.

It was strange how Guardians responded to gratitude, like they didn’t deserve the praise. They sacrificed themselves so much; even this new Guardian gave Nolan his own light to help him.

The others wouldn’t be able to see his light, so Rikar crept around the camp easily. He wound through the sleeping and drunken gypsies before heading to his own self-inflicted prison and climbing in.

Nolan lay back in the putrid, blood-coated straw, watching Rikar settle in his cage. Why would he accept such treatment? What would drive anyone, especially a Guardian, to imprisonment? He chose to be confined and ridiculed as a freakish beast, rather than come to the castle and be honored and respected. Nolan didn’t understand. He was a strange Guardian, for certain. And if Nolan lived through this, he would find out what had come between him and Greer.

At some point, Nolan must’ve drifted off. He awoke abruptly to cold water over his head. Nolan gasped, sitting upright. A grinning gypsy held an empty bucket; the remnants of the water dripped to the ground.

“Get another,” Jezebelle said. “He still smells.”

Before Nolan could even rise, another bucket doused him, the cold stabbing his skin. He sucked in a breath, his body trembling.

“Now go,” Jezebelle said to the other, waving him away with a soft tinkle of her bracelet-covered wrist.

She waited until the man had left, then she jumped up to the side of Nolan’s cage, hanging on the bars, examining him. Nolan considered lunging toward her and punching her in the face, but he was too tired and sore to care.

She clicked her tongue. “Either you are pretending to be weak, or something has happened. Was it my drugs? Did an item give you your powers?” She studied him. “No? You don’t wish to share?”

She jumped to the ground, flipping her braids. “Tonight will be more of the same. Unless you are willing to demonstrate your powers another way? Strength perhaps? Something with Speed?” She shrugged. “Well then. Have it your way, Emissary. Healing it will be.”

For the remainder of the day, Nolan rested. Rikar did the same, barely moving in his cell. Nolan wondered how much light the Guardian had shared and what harm it had done to him. But what would’ve happened to him if Rikar hadn’t stepped in?

Finally, after a tasteless dinner, preparations started for their evening performance. The musician warmed up his voice—both of them—and the jugglers tossed balls into the air.

Nolan stood and adjusted his pathetic excuse for clothes. He fingered his side where numerous new scars lined his flesh. Brim help me! Those spears hurt worse than all the arrows from the trials put together. And at least Kardos’s sword had been sharp when he’d stabbed me; the gypsies’ spears feel like they are twenty years old.

Two gypsies—the ones from the previous night—approached, their spears resting on their shoulders. Nolan clenched wads of straw in both his hands, so tightly his knuckles whitened. Somehow, he had to get out of this mess. But how could he? Even Rikar couldn’t open his cage.

Voices rose from the path into the clearing, a gathering of people more plentiful than the night before. Nolan inhaled a stuttering breath, strengthening his resolve. He hoped Rikar had enough light to keep him alive, if he survived the night at all.

Chapter Twenty

THE GUARDIAN HELD UP HIS HAND, and the wound on his finger closed, but slower than it usually did. Five days of performances had passed, and Rikar visited after each one. Each time, the Guardian shared his light, and each time the glow around him dimmed.

His face seemed thinner. His steps dragged, and his shoulders stooped. Nolan knew that Rikar couldn’t keep this up forever. He didn’t look well at all.

“Forgive me, Master Nolan. That is all I can give you tonight.”

Nolan swallowed a lump in his throat. “Don’t worry, Rikar. You’ve done more than enough already.”

“Then I will retire, if that is all you need.”

“Of course. Thank you again.”

Once again, the Guardian straightened at the praise, but only slightly this time; he seemed too tired for anything more. He turned toward his cage, but after only two steps, he staggered and his body collapsed.

Nolan jumped to his feet, ignoring the fatigue. He dove to the bars, almost grabbing them without thought. Rikar lay sprawled, a faint light glowing around him.

“Rikar,” Nolan whispered as blood pumped in his veins.

The Guardian stirred, groaning. His eyes fluttered open and met Nolan’s. Slowly, he hauled to his feet.

“You need to stop.”

“Stop what, Master Nolan? Stop falling?”

“No, Rikar. You need to stop healing me.”

Rikar scowled. “You were dying, Master Nolan.”

“Then let me die.”

Rikar stepped closer, leaning toward the bars so their faces were only a hand’s width apart. His breath was slow, labored. “You know other Guardians?”

“Yes,” Nolan hissed.

“Then you must know: Letting you die is not an option.”

A hollow space opened in Nolan’s chest. Rikar was right. A Guardian’s primary objective was to protect and preserve human life. He inhaled and clenched his fists. “But I’m not human.”

The Guardian nodded, his head only just supporting its weight. “You are human enough. And we are both still alive.”

Nolan opened his mouth, ready to fling another objection at the stubborn Guardian.

Rikar held up his hand, stopping him. “We have several days of travel before us now, plenty of time for me to rest and replenish.”

“And the next time we stop?”

“We will concern ourselves as it happens.” His arm dangled limp at his side. “For now, I rest.”

Rikar trudged to his cage, staying on his feet this time; however, his light was so dim, Nolan could hardly see him cutting through the dark night.

Nolan fell in the straw, wishing he had a bed, wishing he had somewhere else to relieve himself besides pissing out the side of his cage. He was tired of being treated worse than an animal. At least an animal would be slaughtered only once, rather than multiple times a day.

He ran a hand over his chin. If they would’ve performed one more night, Rikar would use all his light and sacrifice himself to save Nolan. Then what would happen? The very next time they stuck Nolan, he wouldn’t have Rikar. And without Rikar, Nolan would’ve died days ago.

Pushing up, he looked to Rikar’s cage. Why did the Guardian stay? Obviously, they hadn’t trapped him—he could come and go as he pleased. Why didn’t he just disappear in the night? Crows, he could even escape in the middle of one of their nightforsaken “performances” and change to one who’d come to watch. Blending into the crowd would be easy for him, and the idiot gypsies wouldn’t have the slightest idea where their lizard man had gone.

If he convinced Rikar of their desperate situation, Rikar could leave and get help. Maybe even go to Faylinn and tell his friends, or at least retrieve the stones. With full Shay light, Nolan could bend the bars of his cage and get free. He’d broken Guardian steel before, when he’d snapped the restraint around Emery’s throat in Faylinn.

Nolan tugged a hand through his hair and allowed his body to relax. Rikar was hesitant, as if afraid to leave. And issues hovered between him and Greer, though Nolan couldn’t fathom what problems they could have. He sighed. Tomorrow he’d talk to Rikar, convince him … somehow. One way or another, something had to change. He couldn’t keep healing Nolan. He’d nearly given everything this time. One of these nights, he’d have nothing left to give.

Nolan needed freedom. But even if they found a way to open his cage—a key maybe—they’d both most likely be too weak to get very far. Nolan needed the stones.

***

Morning came much too soon. Voices roused him from a dead-like sleep.

“Something is wrong with him,” a voice said.

“Did you feed him?”

“Of course I did,” the man snapped. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Nolan’s cage rocked, and his eyes snapped open. A gypsy teen hitched a pair of mules to Nolan’s cage.

Nolan turned toward Rikar and saw two men hovering near the Guardian, staring through his bars. Rikar lay unmoving, no light emanating from him. Nolan’s heart froze.

“Is he alive?” Nolan asked.

“What’s it your business, freak?”

Nolan flared his Perception, listening in on their conversation—even if he shouldn’t use any power.

“Check to see if it’s breathing,” one whispered.

“You touch it,” the other said. “I’m not touching it.”

The man grimaced, disgust oozing from his emotions. He lifted his hand toward the cage but then stopped, fear pulsing from him instead.

“Fine,” the other said. “I’ll do it.” He hesitated, then threaded his hand through the bars.

Nolan leaned in, holding his breath.

“Where do you feel for a heartbeat on this thing?”

“I don’t know. How about the neck?”

The gypsy shot a dagger-like glare at the first, then moved his hand toward the Guardian’s throat. He relaxed. “It’s alive. Although I don’t know for how much longer. We’ll check it after our next stop. If it’s dead, we’ll dump it and tell Jezebelle it got loose somehow.”

Nolan pulled back on his powers, tucking them away. His head swam, his body nearly going limp with relief. He’s alive.

“You seem concerned about the creature.”

Nolan turned, and the four-armed woman eyed him. She stood outside his cage, a smirk plastered on her face. How did she get out?

“I come and go as I please,” she said, crossing all four arms over her chest.

“Why the cage then?”

“Adds more intrigue during the performance. I also happen to like my cage; it’s quite comfortable. You know, if you’d only corporate, you could go far here. Matter of fact, I heard some of the customers talking about you. One even made an offer. But you were too passed out to even notice.”

Nolan blinked. “An offer?”

A memory drifted in his mind, something that happened during Nolan’s weakness and pain-filled haze. A few noblemen had lingered, speaking to Jezebelle. They passed a coin bag to her, and she led him toward Morna’s cage. The latch was lifted, and Morna welcomed the man in, all four arms wrapping around him. Jezebelle pulled a curtain around the cage, concealing them inside.

His stomach churned. He’d rather die than accept such a disgusting offer. Besides, that kind of … activity … could kill any customer. “No thank you. I have no interest in selling myself.”

Morna shrugged, smiling. “Suit yourself. However, I don’t have to bathe and relieve myself like an animal.” She motioned toward Rikar. “Or maybe you’d prefer to be like one of them.” Opening the door to her cage, she entered, sat in her plush chair, pulled out a book, and started to read.

Nolan glared. Another book? Where in Brim’s name does she keep getting books? Each day passed so excruciatingly slow, he longed for something to do. A book was always a great way to pass the time. He pushed down a spike of jealousy and refocused. He didn’t need a book or anything from them. He wouldn’t be here long enough to care.

The cage lurched forward, nearly knocking Nolan from his feet; he almost grabbed the bars but decided to sit instead. Scanning the camp, he saw the cages lined up in a procession. The mules affixed to his cage huffed and bowed their heads, treading over the trampled soil.

The procession bumped over the ground until they reached the main path. The jostling turned to a gentle rocking. Nolan glanced back at Rikar; he still hadn’t moved.

After a full morning of travel, the group stopped at one of the camping markers along the trail. The gypsies started a fire, and the smell of roasting meat made Nolan’s stomach rumble. He stood and stretched, feeling more rested than he had in days. A wave of tension dropped from his shoulders when he saw Rikar propped up against the rails.

The two gypsies from earlier returned, stopping first at Nolan’s cage. They didn’t speak to him, but only slid a plate of steaming food under the bars. Nolan dove for it, tearing into the hot flesh and practically swallowing it whole.

The gypsies stopped at Rikar’s cage next, grunting in satisfaction at seeing him still alive. They threw a hunk of meat to him, forgoing the plate altogether. Nolan paused, gawking. They treated him horribly. Nolan gripped his plate, and the metal groaned. He jerked his head down and cursed; he’d crushed the edges of the plate in, leaving finger-shaped grooves. He’d forgotten to restrain his Strength.

Rikar gradually crawled toward his meal. Slouching, he picked straw off his meat. Nolan flared his Empathy and spoke to Rikar’s mind.

“Are you all right?”

Rikar’s head jerked up, and he met Nolan’s eyes. “I will be fine.”

A trotting horse drew Nolan’s attention. He turned as Jezebelle drew back on a brown and white mare. It whinnied and bobbed its head as she threw a braid over her shoulder.

“Emissary,” she said.

Nolan placed his hands on his hips.

“I have been thinking of what you said when we were in the city of Renfrew.”

Nolan scowled. “I said a lot in that city.”

Jezebelle reached to the side of her horse, opposite Nolan’s cage. She revealed a worn leather pouch, one that Nolan knew exceptionally well.

He straightened and dropped his arms. Jezebelle pulled out a Stone of Brim, turning it in her palm.

“Where did you get that?” Nolan growled.

A laugh bubbled from her. “Your room, of course. You didn’t think I’d leave them there, did you?”

Both excitement and rage swelled. She took them. They are here, but still outside my reach. His anger turned to hope. Rikar could get them, maybe even tonight. He wouldn’t have to search for them at Faylinn.

She pulled on the reins, taking a few sidesteps away. “So, Emissary. Is what you say true? That all can gain a Shay power?”

Nolan didn’t answer.

“And if so,” she continued, “how does one know which one? All six look the same.”

Nolan turned away. Crows take her! Now she believed him? In the city, she started a mutiny with her doubts. Why should Nolan help her gain one of the Shays? She could rot in the Darkness as far he cared. Then, an idea slipped into his mind. He would be helping her, but she would have to arrange the stones in a way to obtain the light—the light Nolan so desperately needed. He turned to her, swallowing his revulsion. “Which one calls to you?”

She nodded and rummaged the pouch, the stones clinking against one another. Finally, she pulled one out, fingering the smooth surface in her palm. “I keep going back to this one.”

“Then you should try it.”

She cocked her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Which stone is this?”

Nolan shrugged. “Don’t know. Hold it in the light to find out.”

She clicked her mouth, drew the reins, and trotted to a sunny patch. She held out the stone, and the symbol of Empathy splayed on the ground.

Nolan held back a groan. Empathy. Great. Now he’d have to guard his emotions—not that he needed to hide much; he displayed his disgust of her freely.

“And this one iiiiis … ?” she asked, dragging out the “i” sound, waiting for Nolan to complete her sentence.

Nolan sighed. “It’s Empathy.”

“Which allows me to do what?”

“Read people’s emotions. You will know if they are happy or sad, or anything else they are feeling.”

“Oh! That sounds fun!”

Nolan shook his head. It was probably the worst power, in Nolan’s opinion, for her. She already manipulated everyone she encountered.

“So how does it work?” She ran her hand under the beam of light and flinched when the light touched her.

“You need it higher, so you can submerge your body in the light; otherwise, it won’t work.”

She led her horse, circling the clearing. Occasionally, she would stop and examine a tree, then continue on. Nolan pried his eyes from Jezebelle and found Rikar. He stared at Nolan, his face in shock.

Finally, Jezebelle swung from her horse and called out to a nearby gypsy. A boy, around the age of twelve, jogged toward her. She handed him the stone and pointed up, speaking to him quietly.

The boy took off toward the tree, climbing it at an impressive speed. He shimmied down a branch and jammed the stone in a v-shaped notch.

The circle of Empathy flickered to life on the ground, larger than Nolan had ever seen it before. The branch reached higher than the ceilings of the temple, or even the warehouse in Renfrew. Maybe it was too high and wouldn’t work right at all … Nolan hoped.

Jezebelle turned toward Nolan, flashing him a brilliant smile; her white teeth contrasted to the dark hues of her skin. Then she stepped under the light. All the gypsies gathered around her, watching the spectacle. Almost immediately, the violet pinpoints of light swirled around her.

Chapter Twenty-One

A DAY OF TRAVEL turned into a day of chaos. After Jezebelle took the light, all the other gypsies did the same. People writhed on the ground as they came into Strength. Others vomited, overwhelmed with Perception. The entire camp came to a grinding halt, while Nolan sat forgotten behind his bars.

Even Morna, the four-armed woman, took the light. Her cage remained empty as she sat next to a tree, rocking while she wrapped arms around her head.

What had he done? Brim told him to spread the light, but he’d assumed he’d do it for normal people. A camp full of Shay-empowered gypsies didn’t seem right. It was almost as if he’d perpetuated a small army of depraved Rol’dan.

He glanced over at Rikar, whose strength continued to improve. He now stood, pacing the small confines of his cage.

As each person took the light, Nolan stared longingly, wishing he could do the same. He licked his cracked lips, realizing he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the morning. The creatures in some of the other cages fidgeted, their growls increasing as the day dragged on. They were probably hungry as well.

“How about some dinner?” Nolan finally yelled out.

“Shut your nightforsaken mouth, freak,” a man answered, followed by a rude gesture.

Nolan grumbled, his stomach echoing him. At this rate, he might not eat for days.

Time passed, and the moans from the gypsies lessened. Nolan sat, his throat dry and parched. And when night fell, the gypsies didn’t even bother lighting a fire, making the forest darker than usual. Rikar’s light was the only thing to shine.

The Guardian opened his cage and maneuvered through the gypsies splayed around the camp. Finally, Nolan could see the Guardian make his way toward him. He slid a water skin between the bars.

Nolan grabbed it, popped open the closure, and threw his head back, drinking deep gulps until he’d had his fill. He sighed and met the Guardian’s light-filled eyes. “Thank you, friend.”

Rikar smiled. “Glad I can help, Master Nolan.”

He handed Nolan a loaf of bread next. The crust had hardened, probably left over from the day before. Nolan tore into it, breaking the thick brown coating and swallowing it in huge chunks.

“I’ll be back shortly.” Rikar flared his Speed and disappeared.

Darkness enveloped the camp with his departure, but Nolan sat more comfortably—now that his stomach didn’t gnaw from hunger. After several minutes, the Guardian appeared again, pausing at the other cages, pouring water into buckets and giving them the food they so desperately needed. It if weren’t for Rikar, the dumb gypsies might lose their entire sideshow. Not that Nolan cared, but it wasn’t the creatures’ fault.

Finally, Rikar appeared again, handing Nolan a package wrapped in cloth. Nolan unfolded it, and the fragrance of warm, roasted meat greeted him. He groaned. “Where’d you get this?”

“Town is not far away.”

Nolan dug into it, slowly this time, chewing and savoring the juicy meat. It was good. Really good. Rikar watched him with a pleased expression. Guardians were strange creatures; they cared more about serving man than even their own lives.

“Did you eat anything?” Nolan asked.

“I did.”

Nolan nodded, satisfied the Guardian had the sense to take care of himself. “So why are you here?” Nolan asked between bites. “Why don’t you leave?”

Rikar didn’t answer. Instead, he examined his finger, the one he’d been using to save Nolan, his expression contemplative. “Where are you from, Master Nolan?”

Nolan took another bite, chewing. So he wanted to avoid the question. “I grew up in Galva.”

“The fishing village?”

“Yes. Have you been there?”

“I have been everywhere.”

Nolan took another bite. “My father and uncle own a fishing business. I spent more time on the boat than on land.”

He remembered Kael and the time they’d spent on the boat. He missed those days. At least he was building a relationship with his brother again.

“And your mother?” Rikar asked.

“I never knew her. She died when I was born.”

Rikar nodded, his brow furrowing. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Nolan hadn’t known his mother. Kael had talked about her, missed her a lot, but Nolan had never had the chance.

“So your surname is … ?”

“Trividar,” Nolan answered.

“And your parents’ names?”

“Belen is my father’s. My mother was Frann.” His questions were odd. Why did the Guardian want to know?

Rikar stared at him, more intently than he’d ever done before. His light-filled eyes searched Nolan’s face, examining him.

“Rikar, what’s wrong?”

Rikar pulled his gaze to the ground. “How old are you, Nolan?”

“Seventeen … almost eighteen.” He huffed. Irritating Guardian. He avoided all questions by adding his own.

Rikar inhaled, releasing a prolonged sigh. “You asked me why I stay.”

Nolan shoved the last of his meat into his mouth and chewed, waiting.

“I stay because I have done things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dangerous things,” Rikar said slowly. “Locking me behind bars is best.”

Dangerous? No. He was a perfect Guardian. Kind. Sacrificial to a fault. If it weren’t for Rikar, he’d be dead!

“How dangerous could you be?” Nolan asked. “You’ve never killed.”

“How would you know if I have killed?”

Nolan scraped some blood-coated straw from the floor of his cage, flinging it outside the bars to the ground. “Brim would’ve taken your powers if you’d killed.”

“You know much about our laws and ways.”

Nolan shrugged. “Greer told me what happened to Alcandor.”

“And what makes you believe I am not like him?”

“I’ve met Alcandor. You are nothing like him.”

“I have not killed, Master Nolan—at least not directly. But because of me, many died. And if I were to leave here, away from the shelter of my cage, I would most assuredly do it again.”

Nolan’s mouth dropped open, and Rikar turned, retreating back to his cage. Nolan stared at him, alone in his stunned silence. What in Brim’s name was he talking about? He caused deaths, but didn’t kill? It make little sense. Instead of gaining answers, Nolan was more confused. What had Rikar done to think he deserved to be treated like a beast?

Rikar climbed into his cage and turned his back on Nolan, his large hands grabbing the sides of his head. Something tormented the Guardian, and Nolan would find out what that was. He would help him regain his self-respect and get the honor he well deserved.

***

Morning came, and with it, the gypsies stirred. A few moved around the camp, seeming to realize they had other responsibilities. Without much heart, they gave water to their creatures, tossing scraps of food into the cages. A man approached Nolan, tossing a plate at him before backing away. He coughed, covering his mouth and nose as if Nolan was the most revolting thing in his life.

Nolan grunted. Try staying locked in a cage for a week and see how good you smell.

Nolan ate, even though he wasn’t hungry. Best not to let them know Rikar had already fed him. As he sat and pondered more on the Guardian’s words, an Empathy Shay touched his mind. He raised his head and found Jezebelle standing next to his cage; the violet light of Empathy blazed from her eyes. Her Shay was strong.

“You are thoughtful this morning, Emissary,” she said.

Nolan put down his plate. “I’m always thoughtful.”

She circled his cage, ramming her Empathy into his mind.

He glared at her, giving her a full dose of his opinion.

She blinked, seeming surprised. Then her anger flared. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

A slow smile formed on his face. “Oh, yes. You do.”

She jerked back, obviously not expecting the voice in her head. She opened her mouth to speak, snapped it closed, turned, and stomped away.

Nolan tore off a hunk of bread, smug satisfaction surging in his chest.

“Is it best to antagonize her?” Rikar’s voice said.

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.”

“And take this one to the dungeons.”

Maska scowled. “I’m uncertain we have a cell to contain him.”

“Use the light shackles, two or three sets if need be. Bind him like a pig for slaughter as far as I care.”

“Emery?” Maska asked as a trio of Strength Rol’dan dragged Ekon away.

Several heads pivoted toward him.

“I mean, Your Majesty?” Maska corrected. “You will need someone who can track.”

Emery nodded. “General, hold up for a moment.”

The light in Kael’s eyes faded. “Your Grace?”

“Can you carry Maska?”

Kael’s brows shot up. Maska was not a small man. “Carry him? Last time we took Lieuten—”

“I know, General,” Emery said. “But can Lieutenant McKlear speak Talasian?”

Kael opened his mouth, then closed it. “No.”

“Maska can track well, even without Perception. Greer is still searching for Nolan, so we have no one else who can speak to the princess when found.”

Kael sighed, clearly not liking the suggestion. “I have a man who might be able to carry him.”

Megan released her skirts; she’d practically knotted them at her sides. How could she sit around, doing nothing, while Emery ignored her? She stepped forward. “Let me go. If Alec is hurt, you’ll need a Healer.”

Emery gawked. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Megan asked. “If they already have to carry Maska, they will need someone who is light. I won’t hinder them as much as some others. And I want to go.”

Emery grabbed her arm, yanking her off to the side. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “No, Meg.”

“Why?” she snapped. “I’ve been out with you on missions. Emery, I’m one of the best healers you have!”

“I know that,” Emery said. “But you can’t. You’re queen now. There are risks. Besides,” he added, “what about … other things?”

Meg glanced over her shoulder and caught several officers inspecting the walls, inspecting the tapestries. They were looking every which way, except at them.

She turned back to Emery, who was now scowling at her.

She tightened her jaw. Oh, this isn’t done, my love. Not even close. “Don’t forget, a bunch of your soldiers were killed right under our noses. What makes you think I am more protected here?”

He opened his mouth to object, but she kept going. “I’m sick of sitting around here, pampered like some helpless flower. Emery, just because I married you it doesn’t change me as a person. If I have to sit around and do nothing all the time, I’ll scream.”

Emery reached for her. “Meg, please. Lower your—”

“There’re all listening anyway,” she said, flinging her arm out toward the eavesdroppers.

A few soldiers cleared their throats, and others started cleaning their weapons.

She turned back to Emery, her eyes fixed with stubborn resolve. “I’m going.”

Emery released an exasperated breath. “Fine. Go then.” He turned to Kael. “Let nothing happen to her.”

Kael grinned. “I’ll carry her myself.”

Megan’s triumph deflated. Since the moment she met him, she hadn’t cared much for Kael. That was the day he ripped open his breeches and forced her to heal him. It was also the day he’d killed Alec. As Kat so frequently put it, he was an arrogant cad. But if she could help Alec, she’d do it anyway.

Emery leaned toward her, whispering, “I don’t like this.”

“I’m fine. The illness has all but left, and I’m not far enough along to endanger anything.”

He eyed her skeptically, and his Empathy flared, examining her emotions. He relaxed and breathed a long sigh. “All right. But please, be safe.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Be back soon.”

Stepping off, she felt his eyes on her. One moment, he ignored her. The next, he protected her. She knew he cared for her, but when they were alone in the privacy of their room, he withdrew. He didn’t even want to be near her. Emery frustrated her so much. This trip would be good, give them space and time to think. Maybe when she returned, he’d be ready for that conversation.

After a quick trip to change into riding breeches—which was improper for her new position—she headed out the doors onto the open field near the gates to Faylinn. Maska waited there, along with three other Speed Rol’dan.

Kat, thank Brim, turned and met her eyes. She smiled. Over the last month, they’d become good friends. She was grateful Kat would be going along. Another soldier stood next to Kat; he was tall and muscled for a Speed Rol’dan. Megan assumed he would have the task of carrying Maska. The poor guy would have his work cut out for him.

The soldier and Maska spoke, then Maska turned. Their eyes met, and he abruptly looked away.

It was like this between them now. The awkwardness. Every time she saw him, memories flooded her mind. Being with someone, even if they hadn’t initiated it, changed things. Her face flushed thinking about it.

She placed a hand on her stomach, trying not to think of the baby. It was hard not to, especially with Maska right there. Was the baby his? She still didn’t know. How awkward would it be for them if it ended up being his?

Kael turned to her, smirking, drawing her from her thoughts. She inhaled a sharp breath. He was handsome, she had to admit. He looked a lot like Nolan used to … only naughtier. Kael always had an expression of mischief. Megan scowled and approached him. Apparently, he’d be carrying her on this trip.

Kael squatted and gave a smack to his backside. “Ready to ride me, my lady?”

One of the other soldiers, a man with graying hair, gave a snort. He silenced with a glare from Megan. What did I get myself into? She sighed and hoisted herself onto Kael’s back.

He helped her, gripping her thighs and boosting her hind end up with his hands. She choked back a squeak of surprise. Is this necessary? After she was finally in place, he looked over his shoulder, grinning wide enough to make Megan even more nervous. His twinkling blue eyes filled with golden light. “Best to hang on tight.”

She nodded, her heart thundering. She reluctantly wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping his chest. He chuckled. “Ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be,” she said, her voice shaking.

He put a hand firmly on her arms, locking her in place. And before she could change her mind, he took off, leaving her stomach behind.

Chapter Twenty-Three

WHEN THEY’D FINALLY STOPPED, Megan slid off Kael and ran into the trees. Apparently, she hadn’t completely recovered from her nausea. They’d been going so fast her head spun, and now, even after they’d stopped, the branches swayed and wavered as if she were still in motion. She closed her eyes, swallowing, doing her best to control her stomach.

After wiping her mouth with some weeds, she returned to the others. The man who’d carried Maska leaned against the tree, rubbing his shoulder with a large hand.

She stopped in front of him. “Can I help?”

“Aye. Would be much appreciated, Your Majesty.”

Reaching up, she placed her fingers on his stubbled cheek. His fatigue and aches melted into her: a crick in her back; fiery pain in her shoulders; and her left knee throbbed. She held back a groan as the sensations faded, leaving her blissfully pain-free. Maska must’ve weighed a ton.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing his head.

She nodded back, feeling embarrassed. He treated her like a queen. But of course, she was married to the King of Adamah. She scanned the soldier’s broad arms and wide shoulders. He reminded her of her friend Hakan.

“Are you a Higherlander?” she asked.

His mouth quirked. “Aye. That I am.”

“I have a friend from there. He’s bigger than you are, though. Gifted with Perception.”

“A Higherlander?” Maska said from nearby. “I can never get away from them!”

The soldier’s bushy brow rose in question.

“Don’t worry,” Megan said. “It was a compliment. As much as he complains, Hakan and he are good friends.”

“Hakan?” the man said. “Don’t think I know him.”

“He’ll be coming to Faylinn eventually,” Megan said. “I’ll introduce you.”

“Would like that,” he said. “Not many Higherlanders come into a Shay.”

Not yet. The Higherlanders were always more open with the old religion, of Brim, and even the history of the stones. Nolan should go there on his next excursion. They might be more open to gaining the light. Next time she saw him, she’d suggest it. If Nolan ever came back.

Maska and the soldier started talking about Hakan and other random things. Surely it was an awkward situation. The soldier laughed, sounding a little like Hakan. She left them, searching for Kat. Instead, she saw Kael, his hands leaning on his knees.

Straightening, Kael pushed on his lower back and groaned like an old man. Megan frowned. She wasn’t that heavy.

She came up next to him, though he hardly noticed. He flinched when she touched his cheek. Before he could speak, she flared Healing, absorbing his aches and pains.

“Thank you, my lady.” He smirked and gave her a small bow.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said, his gaze intently fixed on hers. He held her eyes so long she had to look away.

He chuckled under his breath before addressing his soldiers. “We best get moving! Daylight doesn’t last forever. We are close to the location.”

They started pushing through the brush and Megan held back, getting some distance from the General. After he was a good ten paces in front of her, she stepped off, following behind.

Kat jogged, catching up to her. She matched Megan’s stride, adding a bounce to her step.

“Yes, Kat?”

“How was your trip?” she asked, grinning.

Megan snorted.

Kat barked in laugher, loud enough for the men to notice.

Megan leaned close to her. “Why don’t you ride his back on the way home?”

“Oh, no. I’ll leave that pleasure all for you.”

“Pleasure? I still feel sick.”

“Speed takes getting used to. But I was talking more about your steed.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s something all right.”

Kat shrugged, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s a cad, for sure. But one doesn’t have to like him to admire the view.”

Megan swatted her arm. “Seriously, Kat?”

She grinned and motioned toward the general walking ahead. “Just look.”

And even though she didn’t want to, she complied. Kael strutted through the branches and twigs. His uniform did fit quite well …

Both Kat and Megan burst into giggles.

“The clearing is just ahead.” Kael turned, eyeing the two girls suspiciously. “Prepare yourself. It was bad when we passed by here to find Ekon. I imagine it will only be worse today.”

“What’s he talking about?” Megan asked, but her own question was answered as the wind shifted, and the smell of death hit them full force. They all stopped against the invisible wall of stench. Megan clamped her hand over her nose, her nausea resurfacing.

Kael motioned with one arm, the other slung over his face, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow. “This way,” he said, his voice muffled.

Megan didn’t speak, afraid to inhale. They emerged in the clearing, and Megan saw two bodies, bloated and covered in flies. Kat coughed and walked through. Megan nearly ran past her in an attempt to get away.

Megan waited as long as she could before she took a breath. Even then, she breathed through her mouth, avoiding the odor long after the others had recovered from the clearing. She didn’t want to risk it.

Maska stepped in front of Kael, taking over the search. They moved much slower as he examined the ground. Maska’s movements were catlike as he squatted, crouching, sometimes on all fours. Megan had always admired Maska. So graceful. So in control of every movement.

She flinched with a memory, a time when Alcandor had stripped Maska’s control away, leaving only primal instinct and suppressed rage. She shook away her building fear. That wasn’t Maska—not the real Maska. She’d known Maska for years. She refocused on what was important: Alec. We need to save Alec.

Maska stood, pointing. “The traitors went this way. Strength users, my guess. They plow through the forest like simple-minded bears.” He yanked off a leaf and touched it to his tongue before spitting on the ground. “Blood trail goes this way.”

They left the path, and Maska led them on. He’d stop now and then, examining a tree. A rock. A branch. Occasionally, a Talasian curse would slip from his lips, then he’d relax and continue down another path.

“He traveled too fast,” Maska said. “The trail is faint and sporadic—spread out too much. It is hard to read. The farther we go, the easier it is to follow.” He scowled. “Which means he slowed as he ran.”

If he slowed, it could mean he’s dying … or already dead. Megan swallowed, hoping she was wrong.

They pressed forward, and Maska’s mood darkened. Day dribbled on, and with the fading light, their chance to find Alec dwindled.

Maska growled and flared his Strength. Rearing back, he punched a tree. Wood cracked. Bark splintered. The sound reverberated through the woods. Cursing, he leaned against the trunk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m slow. If his injury is what Ekon said it was, we may be too late already. If the boy traveled at a normal speed, we’d have surely found them by now.”

“But so would have Ekon and his men,” Megan said.

Maska nodded. “True.”

“Is he deviating from his path?” Kael asked.

“Not by much. He did maneuver some initially, which threw off the traitors. But it’s been straight for a while.”

They scanned the landscape, but it was hard to see anything outside the foliage. Megan wondered where Alec was headed, if he’d planned a direction at all.

Kael motioned to the other three Speed Rol’dan. “We will start here, each of us taking a section of forest, and fan out. We will meet back in two hours, unless you’ve found Deverell.”

“And me?” Megan asked.

“We will leave Maska here with you; we’ll be able to cover more ground if we aren’t hindered.” He turned toward Maska. “Watch over her. Brim help us if anything happens to her.”

Maska nodded. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“We’ll come get you if we find him,” Kael said, then hesitated. “Or if we need you.”

Megan’s stomach turned. He meant, if we find him alive.

“We’ll find him,” Kat added, her eyes flaring golden.

Megan nodded, knowing her friend was just trying to make her feel better.

The Rol’dan darted off, leaving Maska and her alone. A cool wind blew, rustling the branches. White cottonwood fluff drifted along, filling the air like snow from the higher regions. She studied Maska, but he wouldn’t look at her. A pair of squirrels twirled around the trunk of a tree, then scurried into the foliage.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“What is there to talk about?”

She moved from the mossy patch where she’d been standing and touched his arm. “I don’t blame you.”

His square jaw tensed. “Then I will do it for both of us.”

She pulled him to face her—like grabbing a stone statue. He turned, but he kept his head lowered, dark eyes avoiding her. Sorrow splayed across his face.

“I have nightmares of that night,” she said.

His head snapped up; he opened his mouth to speak.

“But they aren’t about you. Never about you. You weren’t using me. You cared—”

“I cared?” Maska said, his lip curling. “Strange way to show I cared.”

“We’ve been friends a long time. I don’t blame you; it wasn’t your fault.”

He turned his wide back to her. “And I was using you.”

“You weren’t,” she said. “He was.”

Ever since Alcandor had made them join, Maska had changed. She found the new Maska foreign and strange. Emery had told her Maska could feel, that he masked his emotions. In some ways, Megan was glad it had happened, glad that it had broken through his emotional dam. And she hadn’t lied concerning her memories with him. The part with Maska didn’t bother her as much. He was a victim, too. He’d been a puppet, just like her.

She cleared her throat, forcing back the blush forming on her cheeks. “Did Emery tell you … about the baby?”

“He told me.”

Relief washed over her. At least she wouldn’t have to break that news to him. “If it is yours, it will be obvious who the father is.”

“I will take part in the child’s life, as much or as little as you wish … even if the child is not mine.”

If the baby turned out with a dark complexion, they’d have a lot of explaining to do. Even so, she’d take all the whispering and gossip in place of carrying that monster’s child. She inhaled and released it slowly. “I hope it’s yours.”

He finally met her eyes. His were so dark, the centers nearly disappeared. “For your sake, I hope so too.”

She blinked. For my sake? What did that mean?

Kael broke through the brush, winded and frowning. He searched, finding her. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I found them.”

Her heart quickened, joy and excitement filling her.

Kael squatted, offering her his back. No mocking smirks or playful grins this time. “Hurry. He needs you.”

Without asking for details, she climbed on and closed her eyes, hoping they weren’t too late.

Chapter Twenty-Four

SLIGHT OF BUILD and dark skinned, the Talasian princess stood in a grouping of trees. Apart from her tangled hair and her torn dress, she didn’t seem injured. She fiercely gripped a crude stone dagger in her hand.

“She threw a rock at me,” Kael said.

Megan noticed the red welt on his head.

“I didn’t see her at first, but she sure saw me. She must’ve thought I was one of Ekon’s men.”

Megan touched Kael’s face, sending a pulse of healing into him. He stiffened and inhaled as Megan absorbed the bump. When she’d finished, he examined her with those piercing blue eyes, much longer than necessary.

She cleared her throat. “General? Where is he?”

“Over here, Your Majesty.” He pointed to a pile of branches and twigs.

They walked forward, and the girl’s brown eyes never left them. As they stepped around the foliage debris, a structure, a lean-to of sorts, came into view. It was so well built, Megan had barely seen it there at all.

Alec lay inside. A paste made with wet leaves or weeds covered his side where his shirt had been torn open. Red splotches covered his pale cheeks. Shallow breaths escaped his lungs in short, jerky pulses. She’d seen death before; he didn’t have long.

Megan knelt and put a hand to his head, which felt like fire coals. She pushed aside the leaf paste, revealing the source of his problems: the infected arrow wound.

The swollen area around the wound branched in red streaks, and a yellowish-green fluid oozed. Megan swallowed. It didn’t smell so good either. It had been a long time since she’d seen an infection. Ever since she’d come into her power, she’d been able to help people when their injuries were fresh. She hoped she could help, but honestly, she wasn’t sure. She’d never healed anything like this.

“Well?” Kael asked.

“Not good,” Megan answered, her voice shaking.

“I’ll go get Lieutenant Connelly and the others. Will you be okay here?”

She nodded, examining the horrible wound.

Kael’s Speed Shay flared, and he disappeared into the trees. The girl knelt, taking Alec’s hand in hers. Though she wore the typical Talasian mask, worry creased her eyes. If Megan didn’t know better, she’d say the girl cared for him.

“You help?” the girl asked.

Megan started. She spoke Adamaian? “Yes, I’ll help.”

Gently, she pried the girl’s hand from Alec’s, motioning her not to touch him. It would be hard enough to heal without the added contact with someone else.

She wiped her sleeve across her brow and laid her hands on either side of the wound; the closer the contact to the injury, the better. His skin burned against her palms. She steadied her thrumming heart and inhaled, drawing on her Shay.

Biting her lip, the arrow wound twisted deep inside her. A whimper escaped as muscles tore, organs pierced, and pain erupted. She almost let go, fear for her unborn child lurching to her thoughts. But the injury was far enough away … just. She should be fine. The wound closed, and the pain ebbed away.

A new sensation took hold. Putrid filth spread from where the wound had been, traveling into her veins, the poison of the infection spreading like sewage in a well. She forced her shaking hands to stay connected to Alec’s side, but she’d never felt something so revolting. Icy cold filled her—the fever. Her body relaxed as Healing cleansed her blood.

She broke contact, falling to her backside as her lungs gasped for breath. She felt dirty. Vile. She rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the repulsive memory. Finally, she looked at Alec. His even breath rose and fell, and the flush left his pale face.

The others broke through the forest, and Maska slid off the Speed Rol’dan’s back. Kat strode toward Megan, her eyes jerking first to the girl then fixing on Alec. Megan staggered before gaining her feet.

“General said he wasn’t so good,” Kat said, worry lines on her face.

“He’s alive. I stopped the infection. Now he needs to rest.”

“Is he fit to travel?” Kael asked.

“Not on someone’s back,” Megan said. “Unless one of your men can carry him like a child, it would be best if we put him on something and drag it behind us.”

Kael grunted. “Slow travel, eh?”

Megan smiled, knowing it would drive the general crazy. However, she was okay with not riding on his back, even if it added a few days.

The princess approached but stopped when she saw Maska. They stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Her expressionless face flashed with anger.

Maska spoke first to her in Talasian.

She snapped back, pointing a finger in his chest.

The exchange increased, the girl’s emotions breaking open fully. The forest echoed with the short, stabbing Talasian speech. Finally, she turned and stomped away, back to Alec. Maska inhaled and released a barely controlled huff.

“Maska?” Megan asked.

“It’s a long story.”

Megan nodded, wanting to know more. She wouldn’t push him though, now that they were speaking to each other. She’d give him time and ask later. Hopefully, he’d be ready to share.

They started the process of making a litter to carry Alec home. Maska did most of the work, expertly finding branches and wrapping them in vines. When he’d finished, they lifted Alec and laid him on the litter. Alec groaned but made no other movements or protestation. It would take a few days to return to Faylinn, and even then, he would still need time to gain his strength. If only they had the stones …

Anger at Nolan spiked in Megan again. Where was he? He’d left when they needed him the most, and he’d taken the stones with him. Why had he gone? Surely it wasn’t the tension between him and Emery. Sure, they’d had a fight about the lies Emery had told; even she had given Emery a piece of her mind. But they’d worked it out, hadn’t they? Why would he stomp away like a child having a tantrum. Although … Nolan had been quiet. Maybe something else was wrong.

She hoped Greer would find Nolan soon, for Alec’s sake, at least. Otherwise, it would take weeks for Alec to regain his strength. Nolan would return for his friend, wouldn’t he? He had come back from Renfrew when she was sick. He would do it for Alec.

“We are ready,” said the Higherlander Rol’dan as he wiped his large hands on his dirt-streaked uniform.

Kael nodded. “Maska, will you—”

Maska had already lifted the litter, his eyes flaring with his Strength. He could carry him without the contraption, but being slung over Maska’s wide shoulders wouldn’t be ideal for Alec to rest.

***

After a half day of travel, one of the Rol’dan, the older one, left to tell Emery what had happened. They stopped at one of the permanent encampments on the trail. Maska set down the litter and walked away, toward the farthest end of camp.

Megan went to him and put a hand on his arm, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

“Has Emery shared my history at all?” he asked softy.

“He said you were kicked out of your country.”

“By King Kamalin.”

She nodded. “He never told me why, though.”

Maska studied the trees. Green leaves poked through the branches, fighting against what remained of the lingering cold. The sky splashed with colors of sunset, putting the forest in shadows. The wind whisked a cold breeze through the air. Megan pushed her hair behind an ear, but the breeze loosed it again.

Kael laughed near the fire while the Higherlander prepared a flame. Rayen sat on the ground at Alec’s side, checking his wound, brushing the hair from his face, holding his hand.

“I fell in love with her sister,” Maska said.

“With whose sister?” Megan asked, but her question drifted away as she followed his gaze.

“Love isn’t allowed in Talasi. But we loved nonetheless.”

Pieces of the mystery fell into place. It explained their association, but why the hate?

“The king banished my love as well. She blames me for taking her sister away. And in many respects, she is right. If we’d behaved, we’d both still be in Talasi.”

Kael approached. “Maska. How about finding us some food?”

Maska nodded, grabbed a hand ax they’d used for the fire, and slipped into the woods. Apparently, he was done speaking of his past.

“You could find your own food,” Megan suggested, a touch of malice in her voice.

Kael leaned against the tree, a smug grin creeping onto his face. “Your Majesty. I gave him an excuse to get away.”

Her annoyance with him vanished, replaced with shock. Kael Trividar, the arrogant general of the entire Rol’dan army, the same man who made lewd comments and flirted with anything equipped with breasts, had done Maska a favor? She hadn’t even thought he considered anybody besides himself.

His mouth quirked, and he gave a small bow. With a quick turn, he returned to the fire.

Megan watched him swagger away, pretending not to notice how well he did it. She shook her head, remembering her husband—the king, for Brim’s sake—was more handsome, more gentle, more caring than him.

Kat came to her side, catching Megan’s inspection. “Many women get caught up in that piece of work.”

Megan cocked her head. “Many women?”

“Not me. But he’s tried many times … and almost succeeded a few of them.”

Megan laughed.

Kat shrugged. “I think it drives the general crazy that someone’s told him no.”

Kael stretched by the fire, his movements deliberate. His eyes flicked to them, and he grinned.

“Is he always like that?” Megan asked.

“Like what?”

“So … so intense.”

She snickered. “He’s being respectful to you since you’re married to the king. If he were truly interested, he’d have you pressed up against one of those trees tracing kisses down your neck while trying to take off your clothes.”

She turned to Kat, eyebrows raised. “And how would you know this?”

She smiled. “Like I said … almost.”

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. Kat and Megan sat away from the others, just outside the fire’s light. The sounds of night whispered, surrounding them. Megan liked Kat; she was unlike any of the other girls she’d known. She spoke her mind, never resorting to hints and giggles like a lot of her previous friends. With Kat, you always knew where you stood.

“Speaking of such things,” Kat said, her hazel eyes glinting, “how is married life?”

Megan snorted in reply.

Kat’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

“Emery doesn’t want to touch me.”

“Have you let him know what you want?”

Megan threw up her arms. “Crows, Kat. He can read emotions.”

She cringed. “Then he knows.”

In muted whispers, Megan shared what had happened that morning, leaving out the more embarrassing details. Kat nodded, her brows furrowing at the appropriate parts. When she finished, Kat didn’t speak; she only sat in contemplative silence. The soldiers by the fire laughed.

“Well,” Kat finally said. “It seems clear to me.”

The whole situation was as clear as drudging mud from the bottom of the Curlew River. “And what would that be?”

“Since he knows what you want,” she said, “you need to show him instead, like you did this morning. If he won’t take action, then you need to. Up your game. Do more of the same.”

Megan’s moment of bravery flashed in her head. She swallowed, panic rising. Could she be so bold again?

The branches rustled, and Maska broke into the clearing. Several furry bundles lay tossed over his shoulder, sending trails of blood down his chiseled back. Megan couldn’t tell what they’d once been; the poor creatures’ heads had been beaten into a pulp—probably Maska’s attempt to relieve frustration. At least they hadn’t suffered long.

A cheer rang from the other men. They took his load and skinned and prepared their meal. Maska didn’t speak; he only turned and strode back into the woods.

Megan’s eyes drifted toward Rayen, still at Alec’s side. Her dark hair hung in her face, long enough to brush the ground. Megan wondered if the girl knew what had happened back in Faylinn.

“Does she know?” Kat asked, her mind apparently on the same question.

“Don’t know. But someone should tell her.” Megan wiped her hands on her riding breeches and stood. Considering the Rol’dan had killed her father, it would be best coming from someone else. And considering their entire group was Rol’dan, except for Megan, the task should rest on her.

Kat squeezed her arm. “Good luck.”

Megan nodded, licking her dry lips. She didn’t know if Rayen knew her language well enough to understand. Megan would try anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Five

AFTER THREE DAYS’ TRAVEL, they reached the front gates of Faylinn. They rushed Alec to a bed, which was a whole lot better than the stick litter he’d been dragged on for days. Megan healed him again, smoothing away the bruises and sores from his rough travel. The scowl lines on his face relaxed as he sunk into the soft bed.

“If we only had the stones,” Megan said, stepping into the hall.

Emery rubbed his beard and released a long sigh. “I’ve sent scouts to search for any Talasian activities. They will inform me if they see Nolan. At least he’s hard to miss.”

Megan nodded, forcing back the tension she’d held for days. More than likely, they’d find Nolan spreading his nightforsaken light to some town. He’d run back to Faylinn as soon as he knew Alec was unwell.

Tenderness touched Emery’s eyes. He wore his hair down today, not tied back as he usually did. Wavy black strands rested on his shoulders, with a few white hairs sprinkled in—the only thing revealing his age.

He gently picked up her hand, sending tremors up her arm. “How was your trip?”

“Fine,” she said. “Where’s the princess?”

“In her room.”

Megan nodded, her heart sinking for the girl. When she’d spoken to her a few nights prior, Megan had told her about her father—she hadn’t known. Rayen didn’t understand Megan enough to comprehend the gory details, which was fine. Megan had no desire to inform her that her father had been strung up like a slaughtered deer. She’d leave that information on Alec’s hands.

“Are you okay?” Emery asked.

“Just thinking about that poor girl. Her father is dead and … isn’t she the ruler now?”

“I believe so. So young, angry, and confused. I can feel so much from her. Hopefully, by the time her people return, she’ll be well enough to stop a war.”

Megan rolled her neck, releasing a long sigh.

“You should rest,” Emery suggested. “Take a bath. You did a lot with Alec.”

She waved her hand dismissively, but it was hard to forget the infection she’d absorbed. “It’s what I do.”

“You are the king’s wife. What you’ll do now is rest. I’ll have the staff prepare a warm bath and lay out clean clothes.”

A bath did sound good. She eyed Emery, remembering her conversation with Kat. She dropped her gaze to her shoes. “You could … join me?”

“Megan—”

Before he could spew his logic, Megan slammed her lips against his. He tried to pull away, but she kept him locked in place by dragging her hands through his soft hair. For a moment he responded, then he stiffened.

She broke away invigorated, until she noticed the scowl on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. He pushed her by her shoulders, turned, and walked away.

She blinked, stunned. She touched her mouth, the taste of him still on her lips. Rejection hammered her into the ground. What have I done?

***

The warm water caressed her tired muscles. Healing could take care of aches and pains, but it did little for fatigue. She ran a hand across her abdomen and caressed the bump, the beginning of her secret revealing itself. It wouldn’t be much longer until everyone knew.

Rubbing the sweet, floral soap over her arms, her neck, her hair, she wondered if Emery’s rejection had to do with the baby. Did her body look swollen? Malformed? Ugly? She sank further into the water to rinse off the soap. Her hair splayed around her, floating in the disappearing bubbles—the red tints turned nearly black as they saturated with water. She wiped her eyes, though the tears had long fallen. She was the wife of the king. Why did she feel so alone?

The door creaked opened, and she turned, expecting one of the lady servants to come refresh the water. She’d soaked so long they’d done it three times already. Kat entered, dressed in the male uniform of the Speed Rol’dan, as she always did. She pulled a chair from the side of the room and sat next to the tub, leaning her elbows on her knees.

“My guess is,” Kat said after a prolonged silence, “something happened between you and the king?”

Megan cocked her head toward her friend.

“He’s a foul beast in the throne room. Did you have a fight?”

Megan smiled, the first she’d done since her confrontation with Emery. “Not a fight, really. I just tried to … up my game.”

Kat sat up, smirking. “And?”

“He rejected me.”

“Well, you nudged a sore spot, for certain. The staff is walking on eggshells. He’s telling them to clean things they already cleaned yesterday, and half the Rol’dan are now training in the cold rain.”

A pattering of raindrops on the window emphasized Kat’s comment. At least the weather had held until they had returned home. She set the bar of soap on the side table.

Kat skimmed her fingertips across Megan’s bathwater. “I suspected it might have something to do with you.”

“I only kissed him.”

“Must’ve been quite a kiss.”

She shrugged, her shoulder raising from the water and going back in. “Little good it did. He pushed me away.”

“You got his attention. It’s eating him up enough that he’s taking it out on everyone else.”

Megan flung water at her. Kat laughed and blocked the spray.

“How does that help?” Megan asked. “Besides making the kingdom miserable.”

Kat wiped a sleeve across her face, grinning. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Why am I taking advice from you, anyway? It’s not like you’ve had much luck either.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Kat’s smiled faded into a scowl.

Kat leaned back onto her chair, stretching her feet in front of her and crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s your husband. I have a crush on a god.”

“Nolan is not a god.”

“Really?”

Megan searched her mind for an argument but came up blank. He was almost like a god now. But the core of him held the same quiet boy she’d met when he’d been a scribe. He couldn’t help being all-powerful and built like no other living man.

“I think he likes you,” Megan said quickly. “Remember that night in my room? His hands were all over you.”

An uncharacteristic blush rose to Kat’s cheeks. “It was a good night.”

They met each other’s eyes and laughed. Then Kat’s smile faded. “If he was so interested in me, why did he leave?”

“Don’t know. We’ll ask him when he gets back.” Megan shivered; her water was getting cold. “Give him some time. Or, you could always ‘up your game.’”

“Crows, Meg. Not sure what else I could do. He can read my thoughts, and they aren’t very proper.”

Megan giggled. “Maybe with Nolan, you need to step back. You might be frightening him.”

A knock sounded at the door. Kat stood and opened it a crack. “Yes?”

The voice of a servant sounded from the other side. “King Emery has requested Queen Megan’s presence. He’s received word on The Emissary”

As soon as the door closed, Megan jumped from the tub and threw on clothes. Kat, using her Speed, fetched items she needed, and within a few minutes, they were running down the hall. They entered the throne room, breathless and getting several odd looks from other soldiers and serving staff because of Megan’s soggy hair. A young, female Rol’dan stood before Emery near the throne.

Megan had seen her from time to time but had never spoken to her. When Emery saw Megan, he averted his gaze.

Megan grunted. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he? She’d only kissed him.

“So where is he?” Megan asked, addressing the soldier.

The girl bowed before speaking. “I scouted near Grell and heard of some strange events in connection with a gypsy circus.”

“What does this have to do with the Emissary?” Megan asked.

“Continue, Lieutenant,” Emery said.

The girl nodded. “Rumors said a band of gypsies was able to wield the Shay powers. So, wanting to find out all I could, I dressed in common clothes and went to their circus of oddities.” She swallowed, glancing from one of them to another. “The Emissary was one of their caged beasts.”

Megan started. “Are you sure?”

“Aye. He is hard to forget. And he didn’t look so well. They kept stabbing him and making him heal. By the time I left that night, he looked near death.

“I would’ve done something, Your Majesty,” the girl continued, looking at Emery’s stony expression, “but there were so many of them, and the rumors of their Shay powers are true!”

“I don’t blame you, Lieutenant. You were right to come here instead.”

“When was this?” Megan asked.

“Last night. I came back first thing this morning.”

Emery motioned to a servant. “Fetch me General Trividar.”

The manservant bowed and scurried away.

He was … caged? How is that possible? He can break out of anything. Megan’s mind swam. Unless he pretended to be caged. But why would he take up with a band of gypsies?

Emery paced, his hands clasped behind his back. “What town did you say?”

“Grell, Your Grace. They are supposed to perform tonight as well.”

In a blur of golden colors, Kael appeared, his cape fluttering into position once he stopped. He gave a curt bow. “Your Majesty?”

The soldier repeated her story, and as she did, Kael’s fist gripped tighter on the hilt of his blade. The lines around Kael’s mouth flattened, and his eyes narrowed to slits.

“General,” Emery said. “You will not go alone.”

Kael’s head jerked in Emery’s direction. “I can move quickly—”

“We aren’t dealing with normal people; they are Shay users. And the gypsies aren’t known for their kindness and goodwill.”

Kael opened his mouth to object, but Emery’s expression sealed his mouth closed.

Emery’s scowl softened. “General, he’s my friend too.”

Kael nodded, his hand still gripping his blade.

“Get a team of Speed Rol’dan, a dozen at least,” Emery said.

Kat stepped forward. “I would like to volunteer, General.”

“Accepted,” Kael said.

“And bring Greer with you,” Emery added. “If Nolan is in need of Healing … ”

“Greer returned?” Megan asked.

“Just this morning,” Emery said. “Our friends from the village are well.”

Megan exhaled. Her brother was doing okay. “Did they … give Flann the letter?”

Emery’s mouth quirked. “Yes. He knows.”

Crows. She wondered how that went. But she’d have plenty of time to worry about her brother. For now, they needed to help Nolan.

Kael bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Permission to leave immediately?”

“Permission granted. Go to the Guardians’ quarters before you leave; inform them of our plans.”

Kael disappeared.

Kat turned to Megan, her brows furrowed over her glowing eyes. “We’ll find him. We’ll bring him home.”

Megan could only nod as her voice choked in worry. This last week, she’d been mad at Nolan for running away. How long had he been held captive and tortured by a power-hungry group of gypsies? Had he run away at all? Or had they taken him somehow? Her stomach churned.

She stared at the door where Kat and the general had disappeared. It was times like these when she wished she could do more than simply heal.

A hand touched her arm. She turned, and Emery’s worry-filled face mirrored her own. “They’ll find him.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of her.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her, comforting her. As long as he played the role of the father, the brother, the friend, he could touch her. She pressed into him, taking what contact he gave, feeling his thrumming heart against her cheek.

He gently pulled her from him, his eyes glinting with violet light. He inhaled and released it slowly, the moment between them gone.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.” He gave her a reassuring smile and strode toward the meeting room. A trio of Empathy Rol’dan joined him inside.

There was always business. Always something needing to be done. Emery worried over every detail, as long as it didn’t focus on them.

She turned, burying her frustration and anger. He’s king, you idiot. Of course he has business. He told you he’d talk to you later. By Brim, he better once Nolan is home and well. Inhaling a slow breath, she strengthened her resolve to be useful. If Nolan was hurt, missing, or in trouble, Alec would want to know.

Chapter Twenty-Six

RIKAR HADN’T COME.

The night had passed slowly, ever so slowly. The spears had jabbed sharper and deeper since the gypsies had come into their powers. They were crueler with their torment now, using their Shays behind their blows. Nolan fought consciousness, forcing his body to heal as the wounds bled his life onto the floor of his prison cell.

Rikar had kept Nolan alive this last week, but tonight he had never appeared. Darkness became Nolan’s company as he shivered with cold and exhaustion. Moment by moment, the night crawled on.

The previous night, Rikar had nearly depleted his light. He’d crawled back to his cage and lay motionless the entire day. Nolan had watched, trying to speak to him, but the Guardian remained limp and still. When evening came, he only shifted slightly, and then another performance began.

When the sun finally broke through the trees, Nolan lifted his head, feeling as weak as when the performance had ended. He held his breath. Rikar would’ve come if he could; he always did. Guilt and dread crept over his heart. Brim, don’t let him be dead.

A slight movement came from Rikar, a stirring of his leg. Relief sunk into Nolan’s bones. He shifted on the drying blood coating the floor and stared out the bars, first at Rikar, then the gypsies as they started their day.

A group with the power of Strength tossed a large stone in a game of catch. Another group—with orange light blazing from their eyes—started a scavenger hunt. Still another with Accuracy threw spears. A tree resembled a porcupine it was so littered with wooden stakes. Even without the Rol’dan colors, they segregated. Those who were friends previously gravitated toward those who shared their powers.

Nolan’s head throbbed. He held a hand over his eyes, blocking the morning rays. He’d never felt so weak, never so completely drained.

What would Brim say to him when he entered the hereafter? How would he react after Nolan had failed so miserably in his task? He had spread the light, he supposed, but not in the way he had meant. The gypsies had gained the powers instead of the normal citizens of Adamah.

The jarring of metal drew him from his exhaustion. A pair of gypsies stood next to Rikar’s cage, poking the Guardian with a branch.

“Look. It moved.”

“It gets sick too often. We should get rid of it.”

The gypsies glanced around, making sure nobody was listening—except for Nolan; he wasn’t a real person to them.

“Jezebelle wouldn’t take too kindly to that sort of talk. Lately, she’s found him interesting.”

The other nodded.

When Nolan had first gained his powers, many things had become glaringly clear. The Guardians, who’d hidden behind disguises, could no longer do so to Nolan. He always saw their true forms, just like when he’d arrived in this camp; Rikar couldn’t hide from him, until now.

Nolan stared at the cage and the lizard man who slept, slumped on the ground of his cell. Fatigue and weakness had taken such a hold of Nolan, he could no longer break through Rikar’s disguise. He was hideous, as they had said, with green, scaly skin. The only resemblance to a man was his two arms and legs. Slits took the place of his nose, and a slimy tail stretched out next to him. Nolan focused, trying to see the Guardian’s natural form, but all he could see was the lizard.

Jezebelle, however, could now see the Guardian’s true form.

After she received the power of Strength—and took several days to recover—she hungered to try more. Day after day, she continued with the onslaught of Shay powers. Nolan gawked, wondering how she could take so much on at one time. But, of course, she wasn’t hiding her new powers; Nolan had gained his strategically. Jezebelle attacked them with as much stubborn determination as she did with all things; she continued until she’d captured them all.

But how could she? No one else could gain all the Shays—that is, no one except himself.

The other gypsies tried, each taking a turn in every light. But no matter how many times they stood there, or how many headaches they received from the extra lights, they failed. Only Jezebelle had gained additional powers.

Since then, she’d gawked at Rikar, yelling at the silent Guardian through his bars, demanding he speak. Unfortunately for her, Rikar wouldn’t cooperate.

Nolan raised his head, finding Jezebelle striding around his cage as she dragged a stick across the metal beams. Since she’d changed, she’d taunted him daily. Physically, she looked the same—if you didn’t count the prism of colored eyes. Still normal. Still beautiful. But now, she was deadly.

She stopped near his face, staring with violet, glowing eyes. Her Empathy prodded, analyzing him. “I thought you’d been pretending. But you’re not pretending, are you? You’ve lost your powers.”

He didn’t have enough strength to even argue.

“What is he?” she asked, motioning toward Rikar.

Nolan glanced at the Guardian and snorted. “Looks like a lizard man.”

Her hand darted inside, grabbing Nolan’s arm. She squeezed, flaring Strength.

Nolan cried out, laughing through the pain. It wouldn’t make him talk.

She hissed and let go, gripping his cage bars instead. “You will answer me.”

“What will you do? Kill me?”

“I can kill you.”

Nolan forced a weak smile. “You’re doing that already.”

She squeezed the metal of his cage, and it moaned but didn’t glow. Why didn’t it glow?

“I want answers,” she said. “I need answers.”

His hatred for her paused, seeing the vulnerability in her intense stare. She was always so cocky, so confident. And now, she was confused and unsure. Those in the camp sidestepped her, fear pulsing through them as thick as a foggy morning. They treated her like one of the freaks in their cages.

Her face pressed close to the bars, her eyes pleading. “What happened to me?”

A soothing balm of pity covered his hate. “I only wish I knew.”

Whatever vulnerability she held snapped closed. With a final glare, she pushed off, flinging her braids over one shoulder and stomping away.

Nolan released a prolonged breath. He couldn’t answer her questions if he wanted to. He’d struggled with the same ones since the moment he’d changed. At least she had the opportunity to blend in—as much as a gypsy could. Nolan didn’t fit in anywhere, except his cage.

Afternoon dragged on, and Nolan’s weakness remained. To his relief, Rikar steadily improved. By mid-morning, he could sit. After the sun reached its peak, someone slid a plate under Nolan’s bars. He ignored the food.

“Master Nolan,” Rikar’s voice said in his mind. “Please forgive me. I was unable to tend to you last night. I believe I will be able to tonight, at least a little.”

Nolan didn’t answer. Tonight might be too late. He closed his eyes, sleep finally claiming him. Rikar’s worried voice droned in his head.

***

Nolan awoke as a chorus of laughter erupted from the center of camp. The musicians played; the man sang; another tossed twenty balls into the air.

Two voices spoke at the side of Nolan’s enclosure, the ones who’d taunted him in his sleep.

“Get up, freak,” the one with Strength said.

Nolan was about to tell him where he could go, when the loop of a rope went around his wrist. With a yank, they hoisted him, wrenching his shoulder.

“Here. Grab the other one.”

A second rope tightened on his other wrist, and they hauled him to his feet, his arms stretched wide. Nolan’s head lolled, but he forced his chin up, wanting to meet the eyes of his tormentors.

The one had short hair for a gypsy. His colorful tunic—with beads sewn into strips hanging down around his waist—jingled when he moved. His smile faded, his lips pursed. “Mikal. He doesn’t look so good.”

The one with Strength snorted. “Jezebelle said she didn’t care. He’s not doing us any good now that we have the powers too.”

The first gypsy met Nolan’s eyes, and pity lingered there. He gripped his blood-coated spear and pulled his gaze away.

Laughter exploded from the trail as the first group of customers emerged—a family. Nolan’s stomach turned. He braced himself, determined not to die in front of the children.

Several more groups tromped in. Nobles. Merchant workers. Drunken slobs who’d love to see blood. The family watched the musician first, and then they squealed with laughter as the juggler tossed flaming torches. The boy pointed toward Nolan, and Nolan’s heart stood still.

They strolled over, but turned from Nolan and approached Rikar’s cage. The gypsy in charge of Rikar went into his speech, and the children groaned at the appropriate times.

The man holding the spear turned to Nolan, apprehension on his face. “Mikal,” he whispered to the other, “are you sure—”

“Shut your face, Tibel. Do your job.”

Mikal and Tibel. Nolan hadn’t known their names before. At least one of them had finally developed a conscience. Their eyes met again, apology lingering in his expression. He’d stabbed Nolan more times than he could count. This time, his countenance had changed; the gypsy knew the desperation of Nolan’s situation. If this man, Tibel, realized it, just by looking at him, then Nolan didn’t have a chance.

“Do what you need to do,” Nolan said, his voice just above a whisper.

Tibel’s eyes widened. He sucked in a breath as the family approached.

Mikal started on his speech, gesturing with wide, melodramatic waves of his hand. Nolan had heard it so many times, he tuned it out. A girl, probably only five years old, stared at him, wide-eyed, as she hung on her mother’s skirts. I have to live … a little longer. Not in front of her.

“See the amazing power of the Mina … ” Mikal gave his cue.

Tibel hesitated, spear raised.

“Get on with it,” Mikal growled.

Tibel reared back, and the young girl squealed. Nolan tensed, never quite getting used to the piercing thrust and the tearing flesh. He tightened his stomach, preparing for the jab, but a sharp pain struck his leg.

Nolan yelled between clenched teeth, pulling on his ropes. It stung, but not as bad as it typically did. Tibel pulled it out cleanly, and Nolan mustered what healing he could and slowly closed the wound.

The boy clapped while the girl hid her face. The father slipped Mikal a coin, slapping him on the back, and they continued on to see the four-armed woman. Nolan’s breath stuttered, and his arms trembled, the rope digging into his wrists. It’d been a small wound this time, but even a small one was too much.

“What in the Darkness was that?” Mikal growled.

“It scared her. The girl didn’t need to see so much blood.” Tibel shifted his feet, his shoulders squared in a challenge.

He’d done it for the girl, he said. But Nolan could see it on his face, feel it in his defiant emotions. He’d aimed true with his Accuracy and hit the best possible place for Nolan to heal.

Two more times he did the same, directing jabs in easy places. Mikal glared, his speech coming out in barks which made the spectators step back. A few times the watchers even retreated, cutting the performance short. Mikal’s eyes swelled with light, the red gleaming in the dimness. As much as Tibel had done for him to prolong the inevitable, Nolan couldn’t keep up much longer, especially since Mikal grabbed the spear. Nolan was out of time.

“Master Nolan,” a voice said in his head.

He couldn’t reply. He was sorry Rikar would have to see this; he would most likely blame himself for Nolan’s death.

“Master Nolan,” the voice said again. “Hang on … we are coming for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“HOW IN THE DARKNESS do you open this thing?” Someone snapped their fingers near Nolan’s face. “Stay with me, brother. Don’t die on me now.”

Nolan jerked back to consciousness, remembering the screams as the Rol’dan had broken into the clearing. Swords clashed. Kael appeared before his cage. Kael?

Nolan forced his eyes open, fighting the weakness. He went to rub his eyes, but his hands wouldn’t move; the ropes cut into his wrists.

“Greer! Can you open this nightforsaken thing?” Kael said through the bars.

Greer appeared, glowing with his Guardian brilliance. He touched the bars with just a fingertip, and the metal responded, glowing brightly.

“What’s that?” Kael asked.

“Guardian steel,” Greer said in his deep baritone voice. He pulled his hand away, and the bars dimmed. “Where did the gypsies find this?”

“Can you break it open? Bend the bars?”

“I am sorry, Master Kael. I cannot.”

“He’s bleeding,” a female said.

Slowly, Nolan craned his head around. Kat pressed her face between the bars. She slipped her arm through and grabbed Nolan’s hand. “We’ll get you out of there.”

“It had a key at one time,” Greer said.

“I’ll go check the gypsy,” Kat said.

She slipped her hand from his and disappeared from sight. Only seconds passed, but Nolan’s head lightened. The silhouettes of his friends faded. He closed his eyes—just a bit of rest, that’s all he needed … and Kael smacked him across the face.

Nolan jolted, his cheek stinging with the impact. He was quite awake now.

“That’s better,” Kael said as he yanked his hand out of the bars. “Live through this, and you can get back at me later.”

“Promise?” Nolan asked, his voice sounding as if it had been raked over thorny barbs.

“If you can catch me.”

Kat appeared. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” Greer said. They moved behind Nolan, toward the rear of his cage. “The latch is concealed.”

Metal clanked against metal, and then the door groaned open. Kat came to him, brushing his sweat-soaked hair aside. Her hazel eyes studied his face, and a stripe of blood traced her jaw. “He’s so pale.”

Nolan tried to smile, but even that took too much effort. Abruptly, the binding on his hand came undone—then the other. He fell.

Large hands caught him. Greer lifted him like an infant and carried him from the cage.

“Put him here,” Kat said.

Greer lowered him onto the soft grass, so much nicer than straw. They wedged a cloth or garment under his head.

Kael barked orders to the other Rol’dan. Fetch Water. Get bandages. Nolan grunted as Kat bound his leg. It hurt a lot.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Kat asked. “Can’t he heal? Greer, can you do something?”

“I tried, Mistress Katherine. He didn’t respond.”

“There’s a bottle of spirits over there,” Kat said. “We can disinfect it.”

“The stones,” Nolan whispered.

“We might have to burn it closed.” Kat cursed. “It’s bleeding a lot.”

Nolan grabbed her arm. Her face jerked toward him, surprised.

“The stones,” Nolan said. “Kat … I’ll die without them.”

She blinked. “The stones? Where are they?”

Nolan’s hope deflated. More than likely, the stones, and Jezebelle, were long gone. “Jezebelle had them.”

She nodded and jumped to her feet, striding over the clearing toward a body on the ground. A body with long braids spread around it. Jezebelle was … dead?

Nolan looked at Kael. “You killed her?”

“Technically, I did,” Kat said as she returned and tossed the leather pouch to Nolan’s side. She grabbed his hand and shoved it into the bag. Instantly, the stones pulsed against his skin. Nolan leaned his head back and released a long, soft moan. Brim’s light, did it feel good.

“I fought her,” Kael said. “The gypsy attacked like a demon—never saw anything like it. It almost seemed like she had more than one …” His voice drifted. “Crows, Nolan. Did she? I swear she had more than one Shay.”

“She did,” Nolan answered.

“How many?”

“All of them.”

The group around him was stunned to silence.

Finally, Kael cleared his throat. “Well, it explains why she fought so well. It was a hard battle, but I had it under control,” Kael continued, “and Lieutenant Connelly jumped in and took the kill.”

Kat snorted. “Under control? Which part? When you were stumbling backward or when she was sticking you with her daggers?”

Kael’s brows shot up. “Well then, Lieutenant. When we return to Faylinn, I’ll show you my techniques with extra practice sessions.”

A few of the other soldiers chuckled. Kat grinned. Apparently, Kael’s threat didn’t bother her. She leaned close to Nolan’s ear and whispered, “I saved him.”

As much as Nolan disliked Jezebelle, he couldn’t help but feel sad. He’d had some connection to her, if only a little. He’d even started feeling sorry for her. He knew what she’d been going through, knew what it was like not to fit in. In some small way, he even envied her death. But if she could gain all the powers, then perhaps others would continue to appear. Maybe he wasn’t such an oddity after all.

His hand closed around the Strength stone, and his Shay pulsed inside him. This past week of pain, of exhaustion, of fear, melted away, and his eyes closed as he drifted to sleep.

***

Nolan jarred awake. Morning light filtered through the walls of a tent. He lay in a bed, a glorious bed—with a lumpy mattress. He’d never felt anything so wonderful. His muscles still trembled, but the hand of death no longer reached for him as the stones gently pulsed at his side.

Kat sat in a chair next to him, legs stretched out, hands resting in her lap. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths. Her head rested on the chair at an angle that would give her a good kink in the neck.

He studied her—considering he couldn’t do anything else. She had a strong face and a square jaw. A nose not so small, but still attractive. She shifted, adjusting her shoulders before settling again.

Had she stayed with him all night?

Nolan’s eyes traveled down her, examining her. She couldn’t hide her shapely body, even with the boy cut of her uniform. How had he ever mistaken her for a boy?

The tent flap opened, and Kat jumped up, her hand on her sword. She relaxed when Kael entered. She nodded. “General.”

He strode in, only glancing at her before approaching Nolan’s bed. “Brother. How are you feeling?”

Nolan grunted.

“Hmm. That good?”

Kat flipped up a corner of Nolan’s blanket. The cool air smacked the skin of his leg. She untied a bandage. “It looks better. The wound sealed.”

“It’s still red,” Kael commented.

They examined him, like they were assessing a map. Nolan pushed up, and they both turned, as if finally seeing him.

“I just need the light,” Nolan said. “It will heal once I stand in the light.”

Kael nodded. “Which is why I’ve come to get you.” He smacked Nolan’s sore leg. “Sit up.”

Nolan shot eye daggers at him as he attempted to rise. His limbs felt like they were filled with steel planks. He swung from the bed, glad to see he still wore the loincloth. Kat had already seen him wake without any clothes.

Kael slid under his arm and pushed, grunting. “For Brim’s sake, Nolan. How much do you weigh?”

“I’ve lost weight. Be glad.”

“Greer thinks he can combine the stones,” Kael said, his voice strained. “He’s working on something now.”

With effort, Kael got Nolan to his feet. It was strange to lean on Kael while towering over him. Kael had always been taller. Stronger. Now Kael’s face reddened, his lips pressed in concentration, as he tried to move Nolan toward the door.

They emerged into the sunlight of late morning, the sun peaking in the sky. Greer stood in the center of the clearing, holding what appeared to be a metal bar, perhaps from one of the cages. Nolan scanned the camp, noticing a group of Gypsies locked in his former prison. His eyes fell on Rikar’s empty cage.

He opened his mouth, about to ask what happened to the Guardian, but he stopped as his eyes fell on Greer. Maybe Rikar had slipped out because of him.

A creaking moan came from the bar in Greer’s hand, and light flared in his eyes. He gripped the rod in one hand and wrapped the length of it around his arm like a bandage. When he’d finished, he pulled a spiral rod free.

Greer held it up, inspecting it. “I think it will work. Where are the stones?”

Kael cursed, still holding Nolan’s weight. “They’re in Nolan’s bed.”

“I’ll get them,” Kat said. She disappeared into the tent and emerged with Nolan’s bag. She held it to Greer, and he took a step back.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Place the stones inside of the rod, one on top of another,” Greer instructed as he handed her the spiral rod.

She slid the stones inside; it narrowed enough at the bottom to hold them all in. “Brilliant!”

Greer smiled. “We searched the clearing and found several possibilities in the tree branches for one or two together. But joining them all was impossible here.” He motioned toward the stones. “So I improvised.”

“Great!” Kael said, a sarcastic sneer to his voice. “Now can we hurry this up?” Sweat broke out around his forehead, dripped down his nose, and coated the sides of his face.

Kat moved toward a large elm. She shoved the stones and spiral rod into the back of her tunic, leaving a large lump. Grabbing a low branch, she hoisted up and scampered up the side. Nolan’s brow rose as he watched her. She never paused as she ascended hand over hand. When she reached a thick branch, she straddled it, scooting along the length by lifting with her hands.

When she got into position, she waved before pulling out the stones. The branch bent under her weight, swaying. Nolan’s heartrate increased. As long as she didn’t die immediately, Greer could heal her if she fell.

“Right there would be good,” Greer called.

She nodded and jammed it into a v-shaped portion of the branch. Instantly, a white light shone on the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

HOURS PASSED AS NOLAN STOOD under the light of Brim. It warmed him, filling him, bringing all his senses alive. It was like coming upon his Shay powers for a second time.

During his ordeal, imprisoned behind bars, he’d shut off his powers for self-preservation. Now that he filled, the sounds in the clearing amplified. There were conversations. Small animals ran through the brush. Smells of old campfires, of blood and death, filled his nostrils.

As evening came, the sun fell behind the trees, and the light of Brim faded. He opened his eyes, and everything sharpened and cleared. He’d been more depleted than he’d realized.

Kat sat propped against a tree, staring at him as she held a book in her hand. She stood, dropping the book, and walked toward him. Relief pulsed from her emotions, along with something else. Not desire, but ... Nolan sucked in a breath. She’s falling in love with me?

She smiled. “You look better.”

“I feel good.”

Her eyes dropped from his chest and fixed on his abdomen. Nolan followed her gaze. A mass of scars covered what had once been smooth skin. She raised her hand and touched it.

The contact sent fire through his veins. He’d been touched so little in the past few weeks, it heightened the sensation. Even more so because the touch was from her. He tried not to move. She didn’t mean anything by it. She was only curious, that’s all.

“Is this from the gypsies?” she asked.

“I was healing too slow. Caused a lot of scars.”

“So many … ”

Her hand dropped to her side, but her eyes still examined him. Suddenly, Nolan wished he had more clothes.

“How’d they catch you?” she finally asked.

“Jezebelle left tainted wine in my room in Faylinn. I had a glass, and the next thing I knew, she’d caged me.”

Kat’s eyes snapped up, meeting his. Shock and horror spilled from her emotions. “She had you then? We all believed you’d left on your own.”

“On my own? Why in Brim’s name would I leave on my … ” Realization struck him. They thought I’d left because of Megan.

He ran a hand over his face. He’d been depressed, yes—but not because of Megan. He was happy for his friends’ marriage, but it was a hard bite to swallow. They had each other, and he could never have anyone. Never hold a woman in his arms. Never raise a family.

He could feel Kat’s eyes on him, waiting for him to respond, probably believing he was wallowing in self-pity over the loss of Megan. If only it were as simple as unreciprocated love.

“Has anyone told you what else happened since you left?” Kat asked, breaking through his thoughts.

“Happened?”

“Back in Faylinn. The murders? The war?”

Nolan stared. He knew nothing.

She shared with him about the night of his abduction. The capture of Rayen, her rescue, and Alec’s involvement.

“King Kamalin is dead?”

“And his honor guard, too,” she added. “Maska suspects the Talasians will return for war.”

Suddenly, his time in the cage seemed even more pointless. He’d missed far too much while wallowing helplessly behind bars. “And Alec almost died?”

“Twice,” Kael’s voice added.

Greer and Kael approached. Kael sported his typically cocky grin.

“Twice?”

“They shot him with an arrow,” Kael said. “And before that, a Strength Rol’dan smashed his head in—the same injury that killed a dozen others. The boy certainly has a hard head.” Admiration pulsed from Kael’s emotions.

“Kael? Have you started … liking Alec?”

“No! Of course not! The boy is irritating and hotheaded.”

Nolan grinned. “We were talking about Alec, not you.”

Kat snorted. “I need to get on patrol.”

“You better, Lieutenant,” Kael said, amusement poking through his smug face.

One of the Rol’dan soldiers appeared in front of them, saluting and then dropping his arm. “General, sir.”

“Yes, Finsen. Report.”

“We’ve released the creatures, as you requested. The two-headed … uh … thing, we put into the swamp.” He motioned toward the cage where Nolan had stayed. A half a dozen gypsies filled the space. “Any suggestions about what we should do with them?”

“I suppose we should take them back to Faylinn. Question them and put them on trial. But crows! They’ll slow us. Part of me wants to kill the lot of them.”

“May I make a suggestion, Master Kael?” Greer said, his voice tight.

“Please do. I welcome any suggestions.”

“You could always let them go.”

“Let them go?” Kael glared. “Did you see what they did to Nolan?”

“If I am not mistaken, you killed the man who had injured him, as well as the girl in charge.”

Nolan grabbed Kael’s arm. “Wait. You killed him?”

“The spearman? Of course. He attacked me.”

“What was his name?”

“You mean the man thrusting a spear at my face? I didn’t have time to ask him his name.”

Nolan’s shoulders sagged. He barely knew the young man, but he had kept Nolan alive.

“For the most part, the gypsies are harmless,” Greer said.

Kael crossed his arms over his chest. “They’ve gained powers. How are they harmless? Besides, one of those men had also jabbed Nolan. You expect me to let him go?”

“There’s another?” Nolan asked.

“Of course. There were two: the one stupid enough to fight me and then the other.”

“Which one did you kill?” Nolan asked, hopeful.

“A gypsy,” Kael said. “Brim’s sake, Nolan. Does it matter?”

It did matter. “Let me see him.”

Kael held his hand out in an exaggerated flourish. “This way.”

They stepped toward the cage. Some who’d been sitting abruptly stood, fear pulsing from their emotions. Kael pointed to a man hunched in the corner, his eye bruised and swollen. Nolan sighed with relief. Tibel.

“He’s your other spearman, right?” Kael asked. “Surely we can’t let him go.”

“Actually,” Nolan said, “he saved my life.”

“The twit kept stabbing you with a spear. I watched him do it.”

Nolan cocked a brow. “How long were you watching before you decided to save me?”

Kael opened his mouth and snapped it closed. “We … uh … we had to figure out what we were up against.”

“If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve died while you tried to figure things out.”

Kael stared at Nolan, shock pulsing from him. He didn’t realize how close Nolan had been to dying. He shook his head, his scowl returning. Jabbing a finger toward Tibel, he said, “So he saved you?”

“He has Accuracy. He targeted where it would cause the least amount of damage. He gave me the time I needed and kept the other man from killing me.”

Several of the gypsies cast side glances at Tibel, irritated. Gypsies considered loyalty an important aspect of their culture. Apparently, Tibel may have broken some rules or vows in his attempts to help Nolan. I shouldn’t have said something in front of the others. “Matter of fact, I think we should let him go right now.”

“Right now?” Kael barked. “All of them?”

“No. Just him.”

“I agree,” Greer said.

Kael gawked at them like they’d gone insane. He, of course, didn’t have Empathy and couldn’t see how much trouble the boy was in.

“Open the cage,” Nolan ordered.

Kael cursed, fumbled in a small pocket on his leather jerkin, and pulled out a key. He glared at the prisoners. “If any of you try to escape, your head will be detached from your neck before you even realize it.” He pointed at Tibel. “You. Come here.”

Kael jammed the key into the lock and turned. Tibel stood, maneuvering through the scowling people surrounding him. As soon as Kael opened the door, he slid out, and Kael relocked it.

Tibel’s eyes darted from one of them to the other, pausing longest on Greer. Finally, he turned to Nolan. “W-what do you want with me?”

“You’re free to go.”

His eyes dropped to Nolan’s scarred stomach, doubt pulsing from his emotions.

Nolan leaned toward him. “I know what you did. Thank you.”

Tibel’s dark eyes snapped up and met his. Understanding passed between them. With a quick nod, Tibel turned, walking briskly, and then breaking into a run. At the end of the clearing, he grabbed a spear impaled in the ground and disappeared into the woods.

Kael reached for his sword.

“Kael,” Nolan scolded.

“He took a weapon.”

“And how is he supposed to defend himself without one?”

“We should have invited the young man back to Faylinn,” Greer said.

“The one who just ran away with his tail between his legs?” Kael said. “Talasians get along fabulously in Faylinn. I’m sure their gypsy counterparts will fit in just as well! The Rol’dan might even throw a party for him while they’re waiting for war.”

Despite Kael’s sarcasm, he was right. Maska had a hard time staying alive, even with his Strength. Tibel would come into an “accident” within a week.

Nolan wished he could do more for him than setting him loose in the forest. The people of Adamah didn’t take to the gypsies well; the gypsies always survived by sticking together. Even if he didn’t care for the gypsies much—especially now—Tibel was different from the others. He’d stepped up to protect Nolan, even if he’d done so in a subtle way. He’d helped Nolan when Rikar could do no more.

Nolan stared at the empty cage where Rikar had lived, possibly for years. What happened to him? If not for the Guardian, Nolan would’ve died days ago. He most likely left as soon as Greer stepped into the clearing—there were ill feelings between them, whatever they were. Nolan wondered if he’d ever see Rikar again.

Nolan turned to the others, still thinking of the Guardian. Greer’s light-filled eyes glared at him, hard as stones.

“Greer?”

“Master Nolan. Might I have a private word with you?”

Nolan’s mind raced. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Greer was angry. But why? Realization smacked him. Oh … Greer reads minds.

Greer took the lead across the camp, not waiting for Nolan’s response.

“What’s wrong with him?” Kael asked.

Nolan forced a smile. “We’ll talk later.” And then he turned and quickly followed the brooding Guardian.

The sunlight faded in the sky, casting red and orange hues through the branches of the trees. A pair of Rol’dan soldiers laughed near a fire; a wild bird sizzled over the flames. Nolan paused for just a moment, enjoying the smell—he was hungry. But Greer kept going. He entered the tent where Nolan had awoken earlier, disappearing inside.

Nolan’s stomach grumbled. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from the prospect of food, and followed Greer.

When he pushed open the tent flap, Greer waited, his glow providing the light for the small space. His large arms crossed his chest.

Greer’s jaw tightened. “Why did you not tell me of Rikar?”

Nolan pulled out a chair and sat. “I meant to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

Greer inhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed calmer. More in control. “Forgive me, Master Nolan. I lost my temper.”

Nolan smiled. He liked to see Greer more human, even if the emotion was anger. “Rikar told me you’d react like this.”

“Did he?”

“I mentioned you and the others, and then I invited him to Faylinn.”

Greer grunted; it almost sounded like a laugh. “And his response?”

Nolan examined his fingernails and picked out dried blood and dirt. “He said he needed to stay, that it was better for him to be locked in a cage.”

“And how did he save you? In your mind, you stated you would have died without him.”

“My light was depleted. He shared his with me.”

Greer straightened, dropping his arms to his sides. “How did he accomplish this?”

Nolan swallowed, remembering Rikar’s sliced finger and the taste of Guardian blood.

Greer nodded. He must’ve gleaned enough information from Nolan’s thoughts. “At least he has done something worthwhile for a change.”

Nolan stood and stepped to a dressing table. What had happened between the two Guardians? Perfume bottles were lined up neatly in a row. Nolan rearranged them absentmindedly. It used to be a woman’s tent, obviously. Possibly even Jezebelle’s. He opened a bottle, and the smell of lavender and cinnamon wafted into the room. Nolan snorted and replaced the lid. It was Jezebelle’s tent after all.

Pushing aside the bottles, he instead lifted a jeweled mirror, avoiding his own reflection. He looked over the top of it at Greer, hesitated, and then finally asked, “What did Rikar do?”

“If I wanted to share, I would have done so already.”

Nolan set the mirror down slowly. Greer had never withheld anything from him before.

Greer’s frown faded into sympathy. “Master Nolan. You would not like what you learn.”

A commotion stirred outside. Voices yelling. Cursing. Nolan flipped open the flap of the tent and saw all twelve Rol’dan gathered in the clearing. What was going on?

As Nolan approached them, he saw Kat holding a bruised and struggling Tibel.

“Kat?” Nolan asked.

She shook him. “Found him trying to get away.”

“We let him go.”

Her scowl fell, and her eyes snapped up to his. “You … what?”

“I tried to tell her,” growled Tibel.

“Kat,” Nolan said. “He saved my life.”

As if his clothes were made of hot metal, she released him. Tibel staggered, almost falling on his injured leg. His swollen eye looked worse, if at all possible. Nolan tucked away a mental reminder to never let Kat get upset with him.

Nolan grabbed the man’s hand to steady him and summoned Healing at the same time. Tibel flinched and relaxed. The purple bruises around his eye faded.

Tibel stared at him, stunned.

“Well, it’s too late for you to leave now,” Nolan said. “You’re better off waiting until morning.”

“You mean when we release the other gypsies?” Kael added, his voice filled with disgust.

“You’re letting them go, too?” Kat asked.

“Yes,” Kael said, his hand going to the pommel of his sword. “I’d rather kill them.”

Tibel stared at Kael, eyes wide.

Kael stroked the handle of his sword as his eyes blazed yellow with his Shay. Nolan snorted. Kael could be such a twit sometimes.

“He won’t hurt you,” Nolan said.

Tibel didn’t seem convinced.

“He’s my brother,” Nolan added. “I’ll kick him across the camp if he touches you.”

Kael grinned. “Oh, will you now? You haven’t won a fight with me yet.”

Tibel’s fear still lingered, but his eyes darted from Nolan to Kael and back to Nolan again. He was confused, understandably. Since Nolan’s transformation, he and Kael looked nothing alike.

For a moment, Nolan considered explaining to him how he’d come to look like a Guardian. About gaining his powers, and his death and transformation. He most likely would think Nolan made it up. If he hadn’t lived—and died—through it, Nolan wouldn’t believe it either.

Nolan’s mind shifted, and the blood drained from his face. Darkness no! He snapped from his thoughts and found everyone staring at him.

“Nolan?” Kat asked. “Are you okay?”

“Where did you put the bodies?” Nolan asked.

“What?”

“The bodies. From the people you killed last night.”

“There were only two of them,” Kael said. “The spearman and the wench with the daggers.”

“Where?” Nolan hoped he was wrong.

Kael stepped away from the others toward the tree line. A large blanket covered a mound in the grass. “We hadn’t gotten around to burying them yet.”

Nolan grabbed the end of the blanket and yanked. The spearman stared, glassy-eyed—the campfire light flickered off his profile. Next to him lay a pile of rags that used to be clothes. Jezebelle’s body was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Kat said. “Where is she?”

Nolan stared, hardly able to breathe.

Greer released a long sigh layered with a growl. “It would appear the gypsy has transformed.”

“T-transformed?” Kat stammered. “Like Nolan?”

Nolan licked his lips. Certainly Brim wouldn’t have chosen a selfish and cruel person like Jezebelle. He clenched his fists to curb their trembling. So he hadn’t been chosen by Brim. He’d been a freak. A fluke. A random draw of nature that repeated itself. Part of him was glad not to be the only one. But why her?

“We have another Nolan on our hands?” Kael asked.

“So it would seem, Master Kael,” Greer said.

Kael ran a hand through his hair. “She won’t be happy with us killing her.”

“She’s insane,” Tibel said, his voice trembling. “She’ll want revenge.”

The whole group stared at the strips of cloth that used to be her clothes.

“When Nolan attacked us,” Kael said, “he nearly took on the whole Rol’dan army, and that was before he transformed. At least Nolan was kind, he tried not to kill people.”

Nolan cringed. A few had died from loss of blood.

Kael jabbed a finger toward Kat. “Killing her made her transform.”

She huffed. “I didn’t know she’d come back to life. I was trying to save you.”

“Save me?” Kael’s eyes glared golden. “I had the fight under control.”

“Of course you did.”

Kael slid out his sword. “Would you like a demonstration, Lieutenant?”

“Enough!” Nolan said. “You two act like children.”

They stared at him, and the light faded from their eyes.

“What’s done is done. Quit pointing fingers, and let’s figure out what to do.”

“Well, we can’t do anything until morning,” Kael said. “We don’t even know how long she’s been gone.”

“Or maybe she didn’t rise at all,” Kat said. “Maybe one of her gypsies took her body.”

“And shredded her clothes?” Kael added.

Kat opened her mouth, but her hopefulness faded.

Kael squared his shoulders and straightened his leather jerkin. “Well, then … let’s get some sleep and head out in the morning. Even if she tries to attack us, I don’t imagine she’ll do it right away. Soon we’ll have the walls of Faylinn around us to help.”

“And we have Lord Emissary,” one of the Rol’dan said.

Kael motioned toward Nolan, and a smirk touched his mouth. “Yes. We have that too.”

Kael barked orders to his men, assigning watch. At least with a platoon of Speed Rol’dan, Jezebelle wouldn’t be able to sneak up on them without warning.

Tibel stood, wringing his hands, confusion pulsing from him. When Nolan walked by him, the small man grabbed his arm. “Lord Emissary?”

“Please. Call me Nolan.”

He nodded slowly. “Nolan. What should I do?”

“Well, you have two options. You could go your own way in the morning, although I can’t make any promises for your friends over there.” He motioned toward the cage full of gypsies. “And I don’t know about Jezebelle.”

“And the other option?”

“You could come with us to Faylinn.”

The man’s face paled.

“I didn’t say they were good options. At least in Faylinn you’d have a few on your side. The king is not hateful to Talasians, including those who are citizens of Adamah. However, so you are aware, we may be at war with them soon.”

“I will think about it.”

Nolan patted the man’s arm. “Tell us your answer in the morning.”

He walked off, leaving Tibel standing alone. He probably needed a place to sleep; hopefully, some Rol’dan soldier hadn’t claimed his tent already. But Nolan had more important things on his mind than playing host to a gypsy.

He flipped open his tent and found Greer waiting for him. The Guardian sat at the dressing table, making the chair look as if it belonged to a child. The lantern on the table remained unlit, but Greer’s light filled the room.

“Greer? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

Nolan’s brows knitted together. Hadn’t they talked already? He sighed and sat on the thin mattress, waiting for Greer to speak. The sooner they finished talking, the sooner he could be alone. His head hurt, and the meager understanding he’d had of himself had disappeared in a cloud. He wasn’t in the mood to have someone reading his mind.

“Well?” Nolan asked. “You wanted to talk?”

Greer released a long sigh. “It is time to share with you about Rikar.”

“Why now? An hour ago, you couldn’t tell me a thing.”

“Events have changed.”

Nolan shivered. He hadn’t been warm since the gypsies had captured him. The first thing he planned to do when he got back to Faylinn was put on some real clothes. He pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, waiting for Greer to share this “secret.” At the moment, he didn’t care what Rikar had done. After several minutes of waiting, Nolan wondered if Greer had changed his mind.

“Has Rikar said anything to you on the subject of his past?” Greer finally asked.

Nolan pulled the blanket tighter around him. “He said he was dangerous, that many died because of him.”

The muscles tightened around Greer’s mouth. “What he has told you is a truth, of sorts.”

“It makes no sense,” Nolan said. “If he caused deaths, wouldn’t Brim take his powers away like he did with Alcandor?”

“He did not kill directly.”

That is exactly what Rikar said. “How does one kill someone, but not directly kill someone?”

Greer stared ahead, as if trying to organize his thoughts. “Rikar has an illness … an obsession with women.”

“An obsession? What do you mean by an obsess—” Nolan swallowed as heat rose to his face. “Oh.”

“Rikar and I have argued much in regard to this topic. At first, he did not see the crime.”

Nolan considered what Alcandor had done, about all the lives he’d destroyed. About Megan. And Emery. And even Kael. “How can he not see the harm in defiling someone by forcing them to do his will?”

“He never resorted to control,” Greer said, “which is why we argued. He relied on manipulation and disguise; he would take the form of a human.”

“I didn’t think you were allowed to be with humans, in … um … that way.”

Greer scowled. “It is not a law, specifically. But it is not respectful. He claims he only helped them. In his mind, he served mankind, just as Brim created us to do. He would find the lonely women, the rejected. He would see those whose husbands neglected them, and he would take the form of their mate.”

Nolan gawked. He almost hated to ask, but he couldn’t stop. “So how did it make him dangerous? How did it make him kill?”

Greer leveled his white-filled eyes at him, sorrow emanating from his emotions. “Back in Faylinn, I told you what happened to those who bore the child of a Guardian. As careful as Rikar claimed he had been, he was not perfect. Those he planted seed into died, along with the unborn children.”

Children, not child. How many has he killed?

How many women? How many innocent lives? All because he couldn’t control himself? Rikar’s comments about staying locked behind bars made more sense now. Rikar knew what he’d done. He knew his weakness, and probably still desired it. So instead of wandering around the countryside causing more damage, he’d confined himself in a cage. And now he was free again.

“We need to find him,” Nolan said.

“Yes. We do.”

They sat in silence, listening to the muted conversations of the Rol’dan on watch. Why had Greer made this a secret? Why hadn’t he told him until now? What changed? It was only after finding the evidence of Jezebelle’s resurrection that Greer shared. Had Rikar been abusing Jezebelle, too?

“I did not share Rikar’s past with you at first, because I detest him, and I did not want to speak of his atrocities. However, with Jezebelle’s transformation, it brought forth a theory I have been pondering for quite some time. One that concerns you.

“At first, I had thought your transformation might truly be an act of Brim. But now I am inclined to believe that not all of Rikar’s children died,” Greer said slowly, as if choosing his words. “Rikar could very well be Jezebelle’s father … and your father as well.”

Nolan’s vision tunneled as the words sunk in. How could Rikar be his father?

“You said your mother died when you were born?”

“Yes … but … ”

“And your father treated you like you weren’t his own?”

Nolan’s head spun. He’d figured his father hated him because of his mother’s death. Had Rikar disguised himself as his father and, in the process, created him? Waves of nausea turned his stomach. Was it possible?

Then Nolan remembered a discussion with Rikar. He’d asked him specifically about his family. About his hometown. His mother. The blanket slipped from Nolan’s trembling fingers and slid to the floor.

“I suspected Rikar after your transformation, but dismissed it,” Greer said. “It was not until Jezebelle’s death and transformation that I believed the possibility. Why, of all places, did Rikar stay in the gypsy camp where another developed and transformed, as you did? Perhaps he identified Jezebelle as his child. I believe he caged himself so he could be near her. I cannot be certain, not without Rikar’s confirmation.” Greer stood. “I will track him. We will get our answers. I will leave now and meet you in Faylinn.”

Nolan opened his mouth, but no words would come.

Greer put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “Do not despair yet, Master Nolan. I could be wrong.”

“And you could be right,” Nolan said, his voice low.

Greer squeezed his shoulder. “We will know more once I have found Rikar.”

The tent flap opened, and Kat entered, her face strained and pale. Shock and dread pulsed from her in thick waves. “I … I have bad news.”

Nolan stared. What could be worse than finding out you’re a Guardian’s bastard and that you might have an evil sister you never knew existed?

Kat met his eyes. “Nolan … the stones are gone.”

Chapter Thirty

EMERY FACED THE FIRE with the silk-trimmed blanket pulled to his chin. Megan could only see the back of his head and the gentle rise and fall of his breaths.

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her own blanket. In the last week, she’d tried everything to get his attention. She’d found excuses to change in front of him, but after the first few times taking him by surprise, he always sensed her, always knew what she would do. And he’d conveniently found ways to leave the room.

He had told her this would happen, that he wouldn’t be with her in marriage. She hadn’t believed him, not really. She’d thought a few weeks or so would change his mind. His past in the Rol’dan had affected him, but he would never share how or why. He’d done things. Things he’d been ashamed of. He’d stood by and watched murder and rape. Maybe he’d taken part in that, too. Was that why he didn’t touch her?

She shook her head, burying her face in her pillow. That was a long time ago. He is different now. Kind. Caring … most of the time.

She placed her hand on her stomach, feeling life move inside her. So much had changed in a few short months. In the village, she’d dismissed her love for Emery as a girlhood crush. Now, she carried a child—whose father was uncertain—and had married a man who didn’t want her. She wished she could go back to her ignorance and her childlike infatuations again. The truth hurt too much.

Emery stirred, and Megan quickly flipped over. She pretended to be asleep, though she doubted it fooled him. The rustling of blankets and the fall of his feet told her he rose, dressed, and slipped out of the room. She released her breath and let her tears fall, making the wet spot on her pillow bigger. She’d cried so much the last few days she could hardly believe she had any more tears to shed.

After morning had long since broken, and she’d given up on sleep, Megan slipped on one of her old dresses and headed out the door into the nearly deserted hall. She nodded at a soldier stationed on guard duty, and she took to the servants’ stairs.

A few colorfully dressed servants scuttled by as they made preparations for a new day. Megan pushed behind a thick curtain into the kitchens. Hulga, the main cook, smiled at her and wordlessly handed her a pastry-filled plate.

Megan continued on, dodging around the smiling staff and out a side door. Then she went up a flight of stairs—the main one this time—and headed down a near-empty hall.

At the end of the passage, a door stood ajar. She knocked lightly, causing it to creak open the rest of the way. Inside, Alec lay in a bed, violently tossing a small ball into the air. He was scowling, but it fell away when he saw Megan. He eyed her plate, and she wondered if he was happier to see her or the sweets.

As soon as she set the plate on the side table, Alec grabbed a pastry and shoved the entire thing in his mouth in a single bite. He leaned his head against the pillow while he chewed.

“How are you today?” She picked up a pastry, one with bright pink frosting. She took a bite, and fruit filling gushed into her mouth.

“Great,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I love to lie in a bed, day after day.”

“You’re not strong enough yet. Look what happened yesterday.”

He shoved another pastry in his mouth and gave her a let’s-not-talk-about-it glare.

“I don’t feel like healing another lump to your head—”

“All right! All right, doctor!” he said, his mouth half full. “I get it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving a good impression of a child. Megan hoped her own child wouldn’t be half this ornery.

“Where’s your friend?” she asked.

Alec’s cheeks tinted. “Rayen? Maska came to get her a while ago. Another meeting.”

Emery called lots of meetings of late, especially as news trickled in pertaining to the Talasians.

“I guess another messenger came this morning,” Alec said.

Megan sat up straighter.

“And no,” Alec said, “I don’t think it was about Nolan.”

Megan wilted. “You’d figure we’d hear something soon. It’s been days since Kat and the general left.”

Alec crammed another pastry into his mouth, the scowl deepening on his face. Any talk of Nolan was a touchy subject for him, especially when he’d been labeled too weak to be included in the rescue party. He’d been only half conscious when they’d told him about a bunch of gypsies stabbing and holding Nolan in a cage. And when he found out Jezebelle was most likely behind it, they almost had to tie Alec down. Luckily, he was too weak to even stand.

Megan reached over to grab another pastry but found the plate empty. The last remaining one disappeared into Alec’s mouth. “You’d think they don’t feed you.”

Alec smiled, his cheeks swollen with sweets.

She sighed dramatically and stood. “Well, I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. I’ll go spy on the meeting. See what I can find out.”

As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. His brown eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “As well as can be expected when you might be carrying the child of an evil king inside you.”

His lips forced into a smile, though his eyes still showed sadness. “Or Maska’s.”

She released a long sigh and felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She hated how much people knew, even if the only ones who did were her friends. “Yes. Or his.”

Alec reached on the opposite side of his bed and pulled out a hidden pastry. He held it out to her.

Her mouth dropped open. “You little thief!”

“For the kid,” he said, giving a nod to Megan’s stomach.

She snatched it and gave him a stern look, trying not to smile. She took a huge bite and grinned.

He laughed and shook his head. “Very royal.”

She chewed it like a cow, making sure he had a good view of the contents of her mouth, and retreated from the room, dodging a pillow zinging by her. In the hall, she wiped her mouth, adding a fruity smear to her sleeve. She smiled, not giving a rat’s backside how “queenly” she looked.

Descending the stairs, she headed toward the throne room, her feet echoing off the stone walls. Old paintings once adorned the corridors, and Emery had gradually replaced them with artwork from the towns. Quaint farm scenes. Pretty streams and trees. Emery paid more for the pieces than the artists could earn in a year.

The huge doors to the throne room were already open, as they usually were. She stepped inside and turned toward the closed meeting room—which had once been Alcandor’s bedroom. Two Rol’dan, one Strength and one Empathy, stood on guard.

They opened the door for her, and she passed through, barely breaking her stride. The first few times she’d come in here, it had unnerved her. She still replayed her night with Alcandor in her dreams. However, coming here didn’t bother her as much now; any resemblance to the old bedchamber was no more. Banners from the six sects of the Rol’dan hung around the room, all six colors, and their corresponding symbols. She eyed the green banner with the three diagonal marks of Healing.

All eyes looked up when she entered. Emery, of course, sat at the head of the large oaken table. To his right sat Maska, straight-backed and stern. To his left, Rayen. Other officers surrounded the table, one representing each sect of the army. She stopped, and they all stood.

Maska moved a chair, clearing a place for her next to Emery. Megan hesitated, then sat. It wouldn’t do any good to display their problems in front of everyone.

“Lieutenant Laen,” Emery said to a young man who wore a Speed cape. “Please tell Lady Megan what you just told us.”

Laen cleared his throat. “Your Majesty. I’ve just come from the port city of Neda. Yesterday, there was an attack within their walls.”

“Attack?” Megan said. “The Talasian army?”

Laen cast a glance to Emery, and he motioned the young man to continue.

“They were Talasian, yes. However, they didn’t seem to be Talasian born.”

“You mean the gypsies?”

“Aye, Your Majesty. However, the townspeople of Neda rarely see the difference between the two.” The soldier, who had red hair and freckles across his face, reminded Megan of her brother when he was younger.

“Go on,” Emery prodded. “Tell her the rest.”

“Well … the leader of this pack of thieves was taller than normal and could wield all six powers.”

Megan’s heart stopped. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“No, no, my queen. It was a woman, not our lord Emissary.”

“A woman?” Megan gawked. She turned to Emery who answered her with a shrug.

“None of us can fathom what it means,” Emery said. “I can’t imagine anyone to be like our friend.”

“I know, Your Grace!” Laen said. “I wouldn’t have believed it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I fought a few of the gypsies, and they were all Shay infused. I did what I could, my good captains, Your Majesty, but there were too many.

“Stores were robbed. Houses burned. A few women ravished, and some killed. The town wants revenge. What little tolerance for the Talasians they had is gone.”

Maska grunted. “That town had little tolerance to begin with.”

“Aye,” Laen said, “and now they have none.”

Captain Vikas, a longtime friend of Emery, leaned forward. Slight of build and short of stature, his dark blond hair grayed at his temples. He wore the golden tunic of the Speed Rol’dan; the insignia of captain was sewn on the top left corner of his jerkin. “Lieutenant Laen’s report confirms our latest information of the gypsies coming into Shay powers. But we’ve heard nothing of a woman who compares to the likes of Nolan.”

“It’s all very confusing,” said an elderly man in the black robe and green sash of the Healers. His thinning hair stuck up in wisps around his head.

“It is confusing, Captain Tiohan,” Emery said to him. “I hope once the general returns, he might clarify this news.”

Megan put a hand on Emery’s arm. “Maybe we can send someone to check on them.” She hoped nothing had happened, but three days had passed, and they still hadn’t sent back any word. Three days was a long time for a group of Speed Rol’dan.

Emery ran a hand over his beard, his lips pinched tight. Dark circles ringed his eyes, mostly likely from sleeping on the floor. “Lieutenant Laen. I have a new assignment for you.”

Emery and the young man huddled together, while Emery pointed at a map, explaining where the general had gone. After several minutes, Emery said to the others, “You are all dismissed. I will send word to you if I find out anything more.”

Chairs groaned as they were pushed from the table. Tiohan, the old healer, smiled kindly at Megan as he left. He was the first of the Rol’dan who’d stepped up to support Emery. For that alone, Megan was grateful. And when Megan had come into her own powers, he’d been there for her, giving her advice, helping her. Even then, he’d been nice for a Rol’dan.

Lieutenant Laen stood and saluted, then disappeared with Speed, leaving Megan and Emery alone.

Emery didn’t look at her. He arranged maps instead, stacking them and straightening them more than necessary. Megan sighed, making sure she did it loud enough for him to hear.

He raised his head, his brown eyes tired. The war and his missing soldiers were getting to him. She stepped toward the door and closed it slowly, shutting out any who might listen.

Emery straightened, his posture tense. Finally, he dragged his eyes from the door to Megan.

“I won’t attack you in here, I promise,” Megan said, her voice hard.

“I’m sorry, Megan. This room … ” He tensed, and she could see his hand tremble on the table.

Megan’s frustration grew. All she wanted to do was talk, for Brim’s sake. What’s gotten into him? It was one of those moments when she wished for Empathy instead of Healing. He acted so strange.

She sucked in a breath and stared at him, an epiphany falling hard upon her. The way he avoided her. Maybe it didn’t have to do with her at all? Maybe it had nothing to do with his past crime and debauchery in the Rol’dan. He’d served Alcandor for years. What had Emery gone through in his time here? Why else would Emery feel tense in this room? This place made her nervous, and she’d only spent one long night and day with the king. Emery had served him for … seventeen? Eighteen years? Her stomach turned. Who knows what could’ve happened to him.

“You take the bed tonight,” she said.

Emery snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let you sleep on the floor in your condition.”

She smiled. “Who said I had to sleep on the floor?”

He opened his mouth, and then he snapped it closed. “Megan, we’ve been through this.”

“Just to sleep,” she said. “That’s all.”

He pursed his lips, and the tension left his face. “Perhaps.”

She placed a hand on his, and he flinched but didn’t move it. “We’ll talk more tonight, okay?” She turned toward the door and almost reached it before Emery spoke.

“Megan?”

She turned. “Yes, Emery?”

His brown eyes held so much pain. He searched her face and forced a smile. “Just so you know: I do love you.”

Her heart choked in her throat. He’d never told her that before. She nodded, unable to speak, and opened the door.

She strode across the stones of the throne room, ignoring the guards. She needed to get away. As soon as she passed the large doors, she ran out of the castle, across the courtyard, and out the main gates. A few soldiers tried to address her, but she ignored them and picked up her pace. Finally, outside the walls of Faylinn, she sprinted across the field toward the trees.

Chapter Thirty-One

DAMAGED.

The word seemed to make so much more sense now. Nolan had said Emery thought he was too old and too damaged to marry her. His words had confused her at the time.

He’d served in the Rol’dan, but she hadn’t imagined what else could’ve happened to him while he’d served. The way he trembled when they talked of Alcandor’s chambers, the way he withdrew from any physical touch … It was so clear now.

Megan found the old willow tree, the one she often went to outside of Faylinn. A large rock rested next to it, and a trickling stream droned in her ears. She sat on the rock and stared at the cattails along the bank of the creek. A carpet of last fall’s dried leaves spread around her.

She came here often to think—and to cry. Today, she did lots of both. She’d pitied herself these last few months, never imagining why Emery rejected her, why he’d flinched at her touch. He’d been abused, too.

Not just one day and night, like her, but perhaps for years. And here she’d been trying to force him to notice her, guilt him into being with her. He probably hurt more on the inside than she ever did.

After a few hours, a Perception Rol’dan appeared at the edge of her clearing. The man said nothing, and he simply nodded to her and disappeared into the woods. More than likely, Emery had ordered him to see if she was okay. Little things reminded her how much Emery did care.

She pulled a branch from the tree, stripped the leaves off the narrow wood, and threw them into the river. She watched the leaves float away with the current until they disappeared around a bend.

He loves me. He loves me. Nolan had told her he did, but to hear it from Emery’s mouth was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Her heart ached for him and his pain, and her own seemed lighter now. She could get past all this, the horrible memories, her fears of the child inside her, as long as he loved her.

After a while, she stood—her backside hurt from being on the rock so long. She pulsed Healing, ebbing the pain away, and she strolled through the woods, humming as she went. Her hum then transformed to song.

She would make this work between them. She needed to be patient and understanding. But most of all, she wouldn’t force him. She’d work, instead, on showing him how much she cared.

As she cut across the field to the castle, the sun sat low in the sky. She’d been out for some time now. She entered the gates and was met with friendly nods from the guards.

Passing the throne room, she noted it was empty. She stopped by the kitchen, grabbing meat and cheese, before taking the servants’ stairs to her room.

When she entered, a fire was already lit. Emery lay on the bed, fully dressed. His circlet lay askew, and his feet hung over the edge. Megan pulled off her shawl and hung it on a peg. She went to him and saw he was sound asleep.

Unlacing his boots, she tugged them loose. He didn’t wake but did stir. She set them near the wall, slipped the circlet from his head, and placed it on the side table with a quiet click. His eyes popped opened. She froze, not breathing. Then gradually, his eyes drifted closed again.

She released her breath and fetched a blanket Emery typically used for his bed on the floor. He’d folded it and stored it in the cupboard, away from questioning eyes. She draped it over Emery and then slid in next to him, holding her breath. She settled in, doing her best not to move the bed. Laying her head on the pillow, she faced him.

The remainder of the sunlight faded, allowing the firelight to send shadows flickering in the room. Hesitantly, Megan brushed a lock of hair from his face.

When she had first met Emery, it had been for the sake of her brother, Flann. Emery had found Flann, like he often had done with others. He’d sensed Flann’s dormant power and come to their home after seeing him in the village. He’d talked with her family, and her father had agreed to come with Emery to the village.

At the time, Megan was only fourteen years old. But even then, she couldn’t take her eyes off the mysterious stranger, the one with the kind eyes and intense stare. His black hair and beard were trimmed to perfection like he kept it now. Except lately, gray hairs invaded the black. It made him look … noble.

After they went to the village, her infatuation with him grew. His leadership. His selflessness; he always put others first.

And when Megan’s father was hurt a year later … She sucked in a breath, remembering the accident. She’d finally come into her Shay of Healing. But even then, it was too late. Her father had died. She’d had the ability to save him but didn’t realize it until it was too late.

After, Emery had soothed her, stroked her hair, told her she’d be all right, that it wasn’t her fault. At that moment, her infatuation with him had turned to love.

Emery’s eyes fluttered open and met hers. He blinked, disoriented at first, and then he pushed up on the bed. “I’m sorry. I must’ve drifted off.”

She pulled him down, using his sleeve as a handle. He didn’t resist, as he was still not fully awake. “Stay here,” she whispered. “Just sleep.”

Before he could protest again, she grabbed his hand in both of hers and pulled them under her chin. He tried to escape, but she tightened her grip and closed her eyes, hugging his hand to her chest.

Finally, he relaxed. His weight sunk back into the bed. And as she fell asleep, she could feel his eyes resting on her.

***

When she woke, she lay in the same position, still clutching Emery’s hand. Sunlight shone through the window, revealing morning had come. The cool room gave evidence that the fire had long since gone out. But his hand was still warm in hers.

She moved her eyes to Emery and found him watching her, as if he’d never stopped. One side of his mouth quirked. “You have quite a grip.”

She considered letting him go, but instead, she drew his hand closer and grinned. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” he said. “Didn’t realize how hard the floor was.”

Some of the darkness under his eyes had faded, but the worry lines around them still hadn’t gone away. He moved his hand slightly. “I think it’s gone to sleep.”

She let go reluctantly, and he slid his hand free. Wiggling his fingers, he massaged it with his other hand. “You’re stronger than you look.”

She chuckled and pulled the blanket to her chin, staring at him. Strands of hair stuck up on his head, giving him a boyish look. When he’d finished inspecting his hand, his eyes moved back to her. He averted his gaze and cleared his throat.

“It’s probably late,” he said.

“It’s okay. You needed the sleep.”

“Yes, but I might’ve gotten word.”

“And I’m sure if it were important, they would’ve sent someone to tell you.”

He smirked. “Besides, Alec is probably missing his pastries.”

Her eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Of course!” he said. “I’m the king, aren’t I?”

Megan harrumphed. Traitorous servants.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he said, smiling. “The only reason I found out is because the first time you took my plate by mistake.”

“Your pastries? You couldn’t eat all of those.”

One eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

They stared at each other, smiling. She hadn’t been this relaxed with Emery in quite some time. Ever since they’d planned their wedding, conversations felt awkward. This morning, a spark—plus more—returned to them. She reached to touch his face, but his hand caught hers. The moment was gone.

He inhaled and released it, but she didn’t move her hand. She gave him a pointed stare, letting him know she wouldn’t back down this time.

Finally, he released her hand and tensed. She continued moving forward, her fingers creeping toward his face. Hesitantly, she reached, tracing a finger across his jawbone. He inhaled sharply, unmoving. Then she dropped her hand to the blanket.

He released his breath, avoiding her eyes. She could feel a comment on his lips.

“It’s okay, Emery. I know why you can’t.”

His eyes shot up. “Did Nolan—?”

“No,” she said. “I figured it out on my own.”

He rubbed the edge of the blanket in his long fingers.

“I won’t give up on you,” she said. “We’ve both been through a lot. You deserve to be happy. We both deserve to be happy. I won’t let you shut me out.”

He pursed his lips, still avoiding her eyes. At least he didn’t object or run away this time. She reached, touching her hand under his jaw. He flinched and tried to tug away, but she pulled his face up to look at her.

Pain and shame painted his expression. She smiled and then leaned forward and gently touched her lips to his.

It was like kissing a statue, hard and unmoving. Then he stopped resisting, and his lips softened. Hesitantly, he started moving with her, their lips molding to each other. Her heart raced, but she broke free, wanting to leave him before he left her.

He stared at her, his breath coming slow and long. That was their first real kiss. Not stiff and functional like the others, like the one he’d awkwardly given her at their brief ceremony, or the one prompted by Alcandor’s lust.

And he’d kissed her back.

A knock sounded at the door, light but urgent. Emery blinked, breaking free from the moment. He slid from the bed and went to the door, cracking it open so small she couldn’t see who stood out there. She smiled; he was acting like they’d been doing something naughty.

“Yes?” Emery said.

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

***

As soon as he closed the door, they both jumped up and threw on their clothes. Emery did so behind the shelter of the dressing screen.

“Are you ready?” Emery asked.

“I may need some help,” she said.

He poked his head out cautiously.

She gave a hesitant smile. “My buttons.” She pointed to her back.

He nodded and stepped forward. Turning her back to him, she revealed the long row of buttons down her dress. She was exposed, but she hadn’t purposefully chosen the dress for that reason.

She stood there, waiting. Finally, his fingers touched her. She inhaled and held it. He didn’t linger on the job, but it did take awhile. Occasionally his finger would accidently brush her back, sending jabs of sensation up her spine.

When he’d finished, he stepped away. She turned to face him, and he had the strangest expression on his face. Part fear. Part want.

She covered her mouth, blocking the grin. “Thank you.”

He nodded, recovering, and strode toward the door. He didn’t wait for her this time and emerged on his own in the hall. She slipped on shoes to go see what had happened to her friend.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“WHERE IS HE?” Alec asked, holding a pastry near his mouth.

Megan shrugged. “He should be here soon.”

She’d been so excited to see Nolan she hadn’t expected to find him in such a horrible state. Clad only in a grimy loincloth, his stomach was a mass of scars, and his hair hung in dirty strands. And to top it off, he hadn’t smelled so good either. If he weren’t the only huge, half-Guardian she knew, she might not have recognized him. But what really unnerved her was his expression: the joy seemed to have gone from his eyes. She’d never seen him so sad and defeated before.

“When did he get back?” Alec asked.

“Not long ago. Give him a few minutes.”

Alec fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. Every few seconds, he’d glance toward the door.

“He’s cleaning up,” Megan said, trying to reassure him. “He needed it. I’m sure he’ll come here when he’s done.”

Alec pushed up, as if going to go find him. Rayen, who sat by his side, gave him a gentle shove back down. “Rest,” she said.

Alec cursed. “I’ve been resting.”

“Rest more.” Rayen smiled. The longer she stayed in Faylinn, the more the Talasian girl revealed her emotions. Being away from her people seemed to help her.

Megan couldn’t help but wonder what impact her newfound emotions would make on her people. She was queen now. If she grasped emotions, what ramifications would it bring to her land? Would this be a turning point for Talasi? Or would they hate her, believe her weak, and overthrow her?

Alec handed Rayen one of the pastries.

She took it, staring at it as if it had legs. “Why you eat this?”

Alec shoved one in his mouth, whole. “Because it’s good.”

She set it on the plate. “Not good.”

Alec shoved the one she’d rejected into his mouth, along with the other one. Both girls gawked, wondering how it even fit! Megan couldn’t decide if she was impressed or revolted. He grinned, cheeks swollen with pastry like a squirrel gathering nuts for winter.

“Very classy,” a voice said.

Nolan stood in the doorway, dressed in clean breeches, a white tunic, and leather boots buttoned up his calves. His hair was brushed back, still wet from his bath. He came in, took the last pastry from the plate, and bit into it. Closing his eyes, he exhaled. “Mmm. This is good.”

“And mine,” Alec mumbled, his mouth full.

“Not anymore.”

Alec swallowed and motioned toward Nolan’s midsection. “Well … let’s see it then.”

“See what?” Nolan asked.

“You’ve seen mine; let me see yours.”

Nolan scowled, then he pulled up his tunic, revealing the mass of scar tissue over the sharp contours of his muscled stomach. Megan sucked in a breath. She’d seen it at a distance. It looked even worse close up.

Alec whistled. “How many times did they stick you?”

“Too many.” Nolan yanked his tunic down.

Rayen had said nothing since Nolan entered. She stared at him, her eyes wide in wonder.

“Rayen,” Alec said. “This is Nolan. Nolan … Rayen, the new leader of the Talasian people.”

Nolan bowed. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

She nodded and examined her feet. Finally, she stood. “I go now. Good to meet you, Nolan.” She leaned and placed a kiss on Alec’s cheek before striding out the door. A blush rose to Alec’s face.

Nolan’s mouth quirked. “She speaks well for a Talasian.”

“Yeah. She’s smart too. She learned our language fast.”

“It helps when she hangs around you all day,” Megan said, nudging Alec’s arm.

“Nothing’s going on,” Alec said.

“Nothing?” Megan said. That was a lie; she’d watched them interact too many times.

Alec huffed. “All right. So I like her. I’m just not ready for that kind of thing. Not so soon after Taryn.” He shoved a hand through his curly hair. “She likes me, too. She even hinted about me going back to Talasi with her.”

“Really?” Megan said.

Alec shook his head. “I’m not going. But it’s nice to know that I can care about someone again … someday … when I’m ready. Until then, I can maybe go visit. Might be nice to travel.” He shrugged. “We need to get through this war thing first. Hopefully, by the end of it, our countries won’t hate each other.”

Alec motioned to a chair by his bed. “You don’t have to stand there all day. Have a seat.”

At first, Megan thought Nolan would refuse. Finally, he lowered into the chair.

“So is it true?” Alec asked, obviously trying to avoid the subject of him and Rayen.

“Is what true?” Nolan asked.

“That gypsy wench. Did she really turn?”

Nolan studied his palm. “Yes. It’s true.”

“How did that happen? She’s the last one I’d expect to become a … ” He motioned toward Nolan. “To become like you.”

“Greer has some ideas how,” Nolan said slowly. “But I’m not quite ready to share.”

Alec pinched his lips, as if stopping himself from asking more. After a prolonged silence, he took a deep breath. “I can’t even imagine her with all those powers. I mean, you’re good and moral. She’s just … just … Well, she’s trouble.”

“Only yesterday,” Megan said, “she attacked the city of Neda.”

Alec snorted and grinned.

“What’s so funny about that?” Megan asked.

“Neda? They probably deserved it.”

“Alec!”

“What?” Alec asked, his hands raised. “I’ve been there twice. Once on land and once on the Talasian boat. They attacked me both times.”

“Still,” Megan said. “It doesn’t give Jezebelle the right to kill them.”

Alec frowned. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. But it doesn’t surprise me she went there first. They hate Talasians.”

Nolan had gone quiet, withdrawn, staring at the ground.

“Nolan?” Megan asked. “Are you okay?”

He pulled his eyes from the floor and met her face. “No. Not really.”

Guilt stabbed Megan’s heart. He wasn’t still upset about her marriage, was he?

“No, Meg. It’s not your marriage.” Nolan clenched his fist. “Jezebelle took the stones.”

Alec’s eyes widened. “How long do you have?”

“One week. Maybe two, if I’m careful. But I might have other options,” Nolan said. “At the gypsy camp, a Guardian shared his power with me. If Greer and the others can do the same, I might prolong it for a while.”

“Wait,” Alec said. “A Guardian? In the gypsy camp?”

“His name is Rikar.”

“That’s terrific!” Alec said. “Where is he?”

“He disappeared once the Rol’dan showed up. Greer is searching for him now.”

Nolan started talking about the Guardian, giving details of his story Megan hadn’t heard before. She wanted to listen, but questions filled her head. Why did the missing stones worry them so much? And what did Nolan mean when he said he only had a week or two? One week for what? Where had this new Guardian come from? And how had he shared his power with Nolan? Wait! Nolan just said something about light and blood and … a finger? Certainly, that can’t be right. Megan’s head hurt, she was so confused.

Nolan turned to her, laying a hand on her arm. “Meg … I’ll die without the stones.”

“Die?”

“I need the stones to refill. If I run out of power, it will kill me.”

A lump stuck in her throat. “W-well, we need to find them.”

“That’s right,” Alec said. “If I have to kill the wench myself, I’ll get them.”

“Oh, Alec,” Nolan said with a sad smile. “First, you’ll have to be strong enough to get out of bed.”

Alec frowned and tried to sit straighter. After his pathetic effort, he slumped back, his face set in a defeated scowl.

“Thank you, friends,” Nolan said. “It means a lot to me. It really does. However, if she’s as strong as people are saying, I might be the only one able to defeat her. And if I have to conserve my powers, that might be difficult.”

“The Guardians can help, can’t they?” Megan asked.

“Maybe,” Nolan said. “But since she is still human to them, they won’t be able to hurt her, only detain her. It might be enough to help, though.”

“You don’t have to defeat her to get the stones,” Megan said. “If we can find out where she is, we can sneak in and grab them.”

The hopelessness lifted from Nolan’s face. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“And she isn’t trying to hide,” Alec snorted. “If we wait a day or two, she’ll probably fly a huge flag, telling us where she is.”

Megan stood. “I’ll talk to Emery. Surely we can come up with a plan.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

MEGAN CHECKED THEIR BEDROOM FIRST, but Emery wasn’t there. She wanted to speak to him privately, without a parade of nosy Rol’dan listening. Most of them, if not all, didn’t know of Nolan’s weakness, and it would be best to keep it that way.

Finally, she went to the throne room, wondering if Emery was in a meeting with General Trividar, or if someone else had brought him news. The doors to the throne room were open, and Rol’dan trickled out, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. Megan crept inside but relaxed when she saw the glow of Guardian light. The Rol’dan always acted funny around Guardians. Her brows furrowed when instead of three Guardians, there were four. An air of tension filled the room enough to make her feel nervous.

The new Guardian wore only a loincloth, much like Nolan had. Her mouth dropped open. Crows, he was magnificent. She’d never seen a Guardian without his armor before. Smooth, iridescent skin. Perfect muscles that made Nolan’s seem small in comparison. He had straight black hair to his shoulders, which shimmered with light. The Guardian turned to her, and his face was even more beautiful, with a godlike chin and jaw.

An Empathy Shay touched her mind. She pried her eyes from the new Guardian and found Emery watching her, an amused expression touching his mouth. Megan’s cheeks warmed.

Emery held out his hand for Megan. She took it, but could hardly look at him. How embarrassing.

“This is my wife, Megan.” He motioned to the Guardian. “Megan, this is Rikar.”

Recognition clicked in her mind. “Oh! Nolan told me about you.”

Rikar’s dark brow rose. “Is Master Nolan well?”

“He is,” Megan said. “Thanks to you.”

“It was my honor to help him.”

Angry scowls painted the other Guardians’ faces as they glared at the new addition.

“Nolan spoke highly of you, Master Emery,” Rikar said.

“Did he? I’m glad to hear it.”

Greer stepped away from the others. “We must get Rikar settled in and changed.” His voice held an edge Megan had never heard before. He strode across the room with purpose and grabbed Rikar’s arm, pulling him out the door.

As soon as he left, Malik turned toward Emery. “Your Majesty. There is much you do not know pertaining to Rikar.”

“He saved Nolan. For that, I’m grateful.”

“But, Your Majesty—”

“No,” Emery said, voice firm. “I don’t want to hear of it. Whatever grievances you have against him will have to be set aside.”

Malik scowled. “As you wish, Master Emery.”

Sanawen and Malik left, still whispering to one another.

Megan leaned in. “What are they feeling?”

“Violence,” Emery said, “and disgust. I haven’t felt this from the Guardians since … Well, the only time is when anyone mentions Alcandor.”

Megan shuddered. “You don’t think Rikar is like him, do you?”

“No,” Emery said. “His emotions seem genuine, and he helped Nolan. As of right now, he’s more pleasant than the other Guardians.” He grinned. “You seemed to like him quite well.”

Megan’s eyes widened in horror, but it only made Emery’s smile widen. Her skin warmed so much she couldn’t even look at him. She slapped her hands over her face. “Oh, Emery, I’m so sorry.”

Emery laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, Sanawen is attractive too.”

She peeked through her fingers. “It helps … a little, maybe.”

He pulled her hands from her face and held them. Her heart fluttered, then raced. His grin faded, and he dropped his grip.

“So you spoke to Nolan?” he asked.

She blinked, still trying to recover from his touch. “Um, yes. In Alec’s room. He’s worried about the stones.”

Emery frowned. “As he should be. But there is also something else troubling him, though I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll speak to him later this evening.”

“You have a lot of people to talk to,” she said, a reminder to add her to this list.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said with a pained smile.

Megan sighed, not sure if she believed him. If he wasn’t able to be intimate with his feelings, he’d never be able to physically open up to her. He couldn’t even hold her hands without withdrawing.

He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing gently. Suddenly, he pulled her to him, and their lips met, soft and warm. And just as quickly, he yanked away.

“We will talk. Okay, Megan?”

She nodded, breathless. If one tiny kiss from him could affect her like this, what could he do if he really kissed her? What would happen if he touched her … if he … Her heart thundered. She pulled back on her thoughts, not wanting to indulge such ideas, especially if they never came to fruition. For now, she’d have to settle for this kiss.

“Master Emery,” a rumbling voice said.

Greer and Rikar stood at the entrance to the throne room. Rikar had changed from the loincloth—thank Brim—to a suit of shiny golden armor.

“We are ready to speak with you now,” Greer said. “Rikar has helpful information regarding the gypsies.”

Emery released Megan’s shoulders and took a step back. He motioned toward the conference room, once again confident. Once again a king. “Yes, of course. We can talk privately in here.”

Emery entered, followed by Greer. Rikar stopped and studied Megan, his white eyes intense, before he nodded and continued behind them.

***

Megan went back to her room to wait for Emery. After a while, a servant brought her a meal. She ate in solitude, thinking about the kiss and their potential conversation. She hoped he would follow through on his promise.

As she waited, anxiousness set in. To pass some time, she’d watch the Rol’dan train from her window. Kael was quite a taskmaster.

As the day ticked on, boredom led to weariness. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. But even sleep did nothing to help her unease as her dreams took over. The bedroom. Alcandor. Even Maska appeared this time, with his eyes glowing red. She jerked awake, her body covered in sweat as she inhaled, calming her thundering heart.

A hand touched her hair.

She jumped, until she saw Emery. He lay next to her propped on one elbow. “I’m here.”

She fell into his chest, and he held her and stroked her hair. His heart beat strong against her cheek, and his breath came heavy and slow.

She pushed from his chest. He stared at her, intense. Before she could speak, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

Her breath caught as their lips moved, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Strong hands laced in her hair, pulling her face to his. Her mind clouded, disoriented, as his kiss deepened.

Abruptly, he rolled over, taking her with him, positioning her on top of him. She gasped as he pulled her body full against him. She tried to speak, but his kisses continued, with hardly a moment to breathe.

His hands met her neck, reaching for the buttons on her dress. Unlike this morning, when he fumbled against them, his fingers expertly traveled down her spine.

She trembled as his hands brushed the skin of her back, exploring, touching. All the while, his lips moved against hers. He broke away, and his mouth closed on her neck.

“Oh, Emery,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he said, his lips touching the hollow in her throat.

Everything moved so fast. Her heart raced, but it was not only from desire. Her memory was too fresh; fear tainted her thoughts.

He came up, pulling her face to him, looking her full in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded, unable to talk, and once again, his lips closed on hers.

Her head swam. What had gotten into him? All his fear was gone. She gasped as his hand went up her dress, traveling up her leg.

The door pounded. Megan jumped, yet Emery didn’t seem to notice. He pulled at her dress, pushing it off her shoulders. Megan’s face heated.

“Mistress Megan,” a voice said. It sounded like Greer.

Megan clutched the garment to her chest. “Emery,” she hissed.

Emery’s eyes focused. He yanked away as if she’d grown scales.

The door pounded again. “Are you all right, Mistress Megan?”

Emery looked away, ashamed. “Forgive me, my lady.” He bowed, straightened, then slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.

Megan stared at the door. What had just happened? She put a hand to her swollen lips, then inspected her dress. He’d nearly had her undressed without her knowing it.

She pulled off the dress, chucked it to the ground, and climbed under the thick blankets. She closed her eyes as her body trembled. She’d wanted this, hadn’t she? She’d been dreaming of Emery coming to her in this way. But now that he had, she wasn’t so sure. Too much, too soon.

Finally, the door opened, and Emery entered. Megan froze, gripping the blanket tight against her chin.

“You’re in bed?”

She didn’t answer. What would he do?

He went to the fireplace, and soon a warm crackle filled the room. He turned, worry lining his expression as violet light flared in his eyes.

She flinched at his brief inspection.

“Megan, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. How could she tell him she was upset at him for trying to make love to her when she’d been complaining for weeks? If he knew, he’d never touch her again.

“Megan?” He stepped closer then stopped when he saw her dress crumpled on the ground. His face flickered a multitude of expressions. “It would be easier to talk if you were clothed.”

“Talk?”

He released a long breath. “You wanted to talk. I’ll talk.” Then he turned around.

Was she supposed to talk to his back? Then she remembered the dress; he was giving her privacy to change. She slipped out of bed, trembling as the cool air hit her skin. The fire helped, but it hadn’t yet filled the room.

She slid into her dress; it was crumpled and wrinkled from when Emery had tried to undress her. After she put her arms through, she cleared her throat. “I might need your help with the buttons again.”

“Why don’t you wear clothing you can put on by yourself?”

“Ask your seamstress. She’s the one who made it for me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, we can talk to her. She likes to make complicated clothing.”

She stood there, waiting. “The buttons?”

He sighed and turned. “All right then.”

She waited, and then finally, his hands touched the base of her spine. He moved slowly, carefully avoiding her skin. Any time his finger brushed her, the sensation nearly took her breath away.

“You’re much better taking the buttons off than putting them on.” She gave an awkward laugh. She wished he’d just hurry up. He was driving her crazy.

He hesitated, unmoving. “What did you say?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. He stared at her, his head tilted to one side.

“W-when you took this off. You did it so fast.”

He yanked his hands away. “Took it off?”

Her face flushed. “Yes. You know … ” She lowered her voice. “While you were kissing me.”

“I only touched your shoulders.”

“Only my shoulders?” What in Brim’s name is he talking about? “I suppose you didn’t have a hand up my skirts either.”

He stepped back, his eyes horrified. “Megan, it was a small kiss. And I only held your shoulders. Even if we were … like that, I wouldn’t grope you in the open throne room.”

“Throne room? I’m talking about in here, just a short while ago. You had me on the bed, my dress nearly off, right before Greer knocked and called you away.”

He exhaled, giving her a sad smile. “Oh, Megan. I think you had a bad dream again.”

“Bad dream?” she snapped. “I think I know the difference.”

Emery’s sympathetic smile flattened. “Apparently not. After we talked, I met with Greer and Rikar. After that, I went straight to Nolan. And from Nolan, to here, just now.” He pointed at the door. “If you don’t believe me, ask Nolan. He’ll tell you how long we spoke.”

If she hadn’t experienced it, she could almost believe him. She searched her brain, thinking. She did have a dream, but Alcandor and Maska were in it, not Emery. Her time with Emery was real.

A frantic knock sounded at the door.

Emery stomped over and flung it open. “What is it?”

A female Rol’dan flinched. “Y-your Majesty. Uh … I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but we have some trouble.”

The scowl fell from his face. “What sort of trouble, soldier?”

“It’s the Guardians, Your Grace. They’re fighting. They are tearing your conference room apart.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

NOLAN MOVED THE BLADE in front of his face, letting the light trail behind it like a ribbon of flame. He thrust, then blocked, and finally slid it into the scabbard that lay on his bed. Even touching his sword used a little of his power; Guardian steel reacted to him. Even so, Nolan would practice. He’d been caught unaware once, and drugged and hauled away for his ignorance. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Leather straps lay across the table in his room. Three of them were filled with metal spikes. Nolan strapped one to his right thigh, one to his left arm, and the last across his chest. Lastly, he strapped his sword around his waist. Standing in front of the mirror, he examined himself. He’d make people think twice before trying anything.

He sat, calming the anger that never seemed to go away. He thought of his conversation with Emery moments ago. His friend seemed tired. Of course, running a kingdom would make anyone tired. But he knew Emery’s thoughts were also on other things—which had nothing to do with running a kingdom. Nolan wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t force his way into his friend’s mind. If Emery wanted to share, he would.

They’d both been through a lot since Alcandor had fallen. Sometimes Nolan wondered what good it had done. The Rol’dan still killed. The people of the land didn’t seem to care; they ignored the stones or any possibility of having a Shay. And if the people kept refusing, like they had been, the Nass would take over again. It was easy to forget the Nass in Faylinn, where those who’d taken the light no longer created them. But every time he stepped from the walls, reality came back to him in full force. Everywhere else, the Nass were reemerging, covering the sky once again. And nothing he said to the people seemed to change their minds. Even the prospect of gaining a power did nothing to persuade them. If they continued, Nolan would have to eliminate the Nass again. Could he survive another cleansing? Without the stones, he most likely wouldn’t survive another week.

At least Jezebelle had left a large, arrogant trail. The next time she struck, they would find her and get the stones. But who knew where, or when, she’d strike next. Hopefully, she would move before it was too late for Nolan.

He squeezed the pommel of his sword. He’d never hated anyone so much in his life, even if she might be his sister. She’d been a spear in his gut before she’d even captured him. Her mutiny at Renfrew had nearly killed him. Then the kidnapping. Now the attacks. Worse yet, the theft of the stones. He pursed his lips tight. He’d get them back, and then he’d lock her in the dungeon—if he didn’t kill her first.

Nolan ran a hand over his face. He should go find Greer instead of obsessing about revenge. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t healthy for anyone, especially with so many other pressing matters at hand … such as Rikar.

Emery had told him Rikar had arrived, which was one reason Nolan kept to his room. Part of him wanted the truth. The other part, the terrified part, wanted to cling to a sliver of doubt. He didn’t want Rikar to be his father. He already had a father—a terrible one, he admitted, but a father nonetheless.

A rapid knock sounded at the door. Nolan stood. It was probably the dinner Emery promised he’d send. But when Nolan opened the door, instead of a servant with a plate, a small group of soldiers stood outside with Emery.

“Emery? Everything all right?”

“I don’t know,” Emery said, his expression confused. “But I may need your help.”

Nolan stepped out, closing the door behind him. He got a few stares from the soldiers, their eyes dropping to Nolan’s throwing spikes. Fear pulsed from them. A few of these soldiers probably had a personal connection to Nolan’s spikes.

They went down the hall, walking briskly, matching Emery’s pace.

“What’s going on?” Nolan asked.

“The Guardians are—”

The building trembled.

Emery caught Nolan’s eye, and they both broke into a run. As they rounded the corner, Nolan pulled out his sword, and light sprang from the blade. They raced inside the throne room, where twenty or so Rol’dan stood around the door to the conference room. The thunderous crash sounded again, and then silence. They all stared at the door.

“Emery?”

“Apparently the Guardians aren’t getting along.”

Confusion, then realization fell on Nolan. Greer and Rikar. Nolan sighed. “I’ll handle this.”

Emery’s eyes darted to the door at another rumble.

“It’s okay,” Nolan said. “They’ll only hurt each other.”

They approached the door with Nolan in the lead, and the soldiers parted for them. As soon as the door cracked open, they heard the commotion.

“How dare you!” a voice thundered.

The conference table was crushed into splinters. Greer stood, his chest heaving and his huge hands clenched into fists. Silver blood painted his knuckles.

Lying on the floor, with his hands supporting him in a sitting position, was Rikar. White light sealed a wound on his face.

Nolan’s heart lurched when Rikar met his eyes. Emery entered with him and shut the door.

“What is this?” Emery asked.

“Rikar,” Greer growled. “Would you like to answer the king?”

“I did nothing—”

“Nothing?” Greer roared. “The only reason you did nothing was because I stopped you!”

“She was in no harm.”

Greer reared back to strike him again.

Emery stepped between them. “Greer! I order you to stop this now.”

Greer’s arm fell at his side. He lowered his head, submissively; however, the fire of anger flared across every line of his spotless face. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was wrong of me to lose my temper.” His white eyes locked with Emery’s. “So you are aware, Master Emery … Rikar attempted to bed your wife this day.”

Emery blinked, staring, his mind working as if pieces of a strange puzzle were slowly being worked together.

Nolan’s mouth opened, his jaw hanging slack. “You mean Megan?”

“He took your form,” Greer said. “Then he visited her in your bedchamber. I found him before he could do more damage.”

Rikar’s face fell, his expression resembling a scolded child. “I am sorry, Lord King. I meant no harm.” He looked to Greer, his brow furrowing. “I told you to let me be.”

“We needed to discuss things,” Greer said, his teeth clenched. “I did not suspect you would attempt to bed someone the moment you set foot in Faylinn!”

“She had need.”

Emery’s stupor fell. His head jerked toward Rikar, rage spilling from his emotions like torrential rain. “She is my wife. Shouldn’t I be the one who decides her needs?”

“Of course. But obviously, you were not. I saw an opportunity to help.”

Greer dove toward him again. This time, Emery did nothing to stop him. Greer hammered Rikar squarely in the face.

The Guardian’s head flew back. Then Greer was on him again, grabbing Rikar’s breastplate. With a yell, he tossed him. Rikar soared, crashing into the wall.

The walls shook—which explained the noises earlier. But the Guardian metal, which lined the walls, stood firm. No wonder Greer had brought him here. He could beat the light out of him without causing as much of a scene.

Nolan should step in and help … somehow. But crows! Rikar acted as if taking another man’s wife was the right thing. Nolan didn’t want to stop Greer.

Greer tossed him again; this time, the Guardian’s large body slid across the floor, plowing the shards of the table with him.

Rikar lay on the floor, panting. Shimmering blood dripped from his nose and pooled on the floor. Nolan shuddered, thinking of the gypsy camp. The silver blood, which also held light, was the very thing that had saved Nolan’s life.

Rikar wiped his nose with his arm, leaving a metallic smear. Then his eyes flared brighter with his Guardian light, and the flow stopped.

“You are right, Greer,” Rikar said. “I am ill.” He turned to Emery. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I truly meant no harm. She is already with child and could not possibly be in danger from me.”

Emery leaned against the wall with the weight of his head in his hand. His whole body trembled. “So what do I tell my wife? What do I tell a woman who, only a few months ago, was ravished by Alcandor? Do I tell her another Guardian deceived her? Do I tell her that, once again, a Guardian tried to manipulate her into bed?”

“Alcandor’s child?” Rikar blinked back shock. “Indeed, I am in the wrong.”

“Indeed.” Emery turned toward the door, then hesitated. “If you ever touch my wife again, you will find yourself in a cell next to Alcandor.” With his red cloak billowing like a flower in bloom, he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Nolan stared at the closed door. What had Rikar done? Of all the people for him to try to seduce, he’d chosen Megan? He exhaled slowly. It explained some of Emery’s troubles, although Nolan wished he hadn’t found out this way.

Emery’s problems ebbed away in Nolan’s mind, and the realization of his own seeped into their place. He was alone with the Guardians; nothing held him back from discovering the truth. He stiffened, feeling both sets of Guardian eyes on him.

“I will leave you two alone,” Greer said, his voice hard. “I brought you here for this reason, Rikar; so once you finish, you can leave and never return again.”

Nolan opened his mouth, willing Greer to stay.

Greer must’ve sensed his anxiety, because he placed a large hand on his shoulder. “All will be well, Master Nolan. If you need to speak to me after, you know where to find me.”

And then he turned and left.

The wooden table and chairs lay strewn across the room, broken in so many pieces it no longer resembled the grand furniture it had once been. Only a single chair survived Greer’s wrath. Rikar picked it up from where it lay on its side, brushed splinters off the seat, and motioned for Nolan to sit.

Nolan hesitated, and then he took the chair. It groaned, protesting Nolan’s weight.

Rikar stood before him, hands laced behind his back. He walked across the room and returned, seeming to focus on the floor under his feet. Finally, he turned to Nolan, white eyes meeting his. “I am truly sorry for what happened to your mother. I take full responsibility.”

Nolan’s vision blurred, blood pounding in his brain. He slumped forward, resting his arms on his legs.

A large hand appeared on his shoulder. “Are you all right, son?”

Nolan jumped to his feet, and the chair fell backward. “Don’t call me that.”

Rikar pressed his lips in a tight line. “I understand.”

“Do you?” he said. “How can you understand? How can you go to these women, knowing you could kill them? You killed my mother!”

Rikar flinched, shame oozing from his emotions like thick sludge. “Not until we spoke at the gypsy camp did I know what happened to your mother. It saddens me greatly. She was a kind and gentle woman.”

“And yet you killed her.”

“Your father … or her husband, I should say … spent much time at the brothels. He chased quite a few women, giving none of his affections to your mother. And still, she loved him.

“I had not gone to Galva to seek women—I never search. But while there, I sensed your mother’s despair. The more I observed the situation, the more I assumed I could bring her happiness by allowing her to believe her husband still cared.”

Nolan jabbed a hand into his hair. He didn’t want to believe, but Rikar’s description of the father he knew sounded far too familiar.

“She was a lovely woman, Nolan,” he said. “I spent three days with her, which was dangerous for me, to linger so long. I left as soon as I felt myself getting attached. Which is why discovering what I did to her … ” He inhaled slowly. “As I said before, the news of her passing saddens me greatly.”

He was … attached? Nolan shook his head. He wondered if the Guardian cared more for her than her own husband had.

“I … am not … well.” Rikar bowed his head, black hair hanging in his face. “Women are a weakness. I try to be careful, find a time when they are incapable of producing. But on a rare occasion, I make a mistake. Until tonight, I have refrained from being with any women for ten years.”

Rikar studied him, his white eyes inquisitive. “I realize you find me disgusting. But your existence brings me unfathomable joy. Guardians do not have children. You are the first.”

“And Jezebelle?” Nolan snapped.

Rikar blinked. “I am as surprised as you are regarding her transformation.”

“So … she’s not yours?”

“As far as the gypsy’s parentage, I cannot answer. I will investigate further, discover the identity of her mother. It is possible, I suppose. And if she is, it brings to light many questions.”

Meaning Rikar wondered how many more children he had.

Silence hovered, the walls blocking even a whisper from outside the room.

Rikar released a long sigh. “I am ashamed of my life and my irresponsible choices. There are times I wish to rid the world of my presence, once and for all. But the moments when I do successfully help mankind drive me to continue—such as saving your life at the gypsy encampment. If I were to leave this world now, I could do so with a small glimmer of satisfaction. Your life came from my faults, but I never imagined a nobler outcome.

“And although you may understandably hate me—for what I have done, and what I most likely will continue to do—I will always take pride in your creation. You are the one, and only, good thing to come from my existence.”

Nolan stared at the Guardian who stood before him, so open, so vulnerable. In many ways, he was the most human Guardian he knew. His heart was good, even with his ignorant and misguided intentions when it came to women. And as much as Rikar’s actions disgusted him, Nolan did not hate him. He just couldn’t.

Rikar’s broad shoulders relaxed. More than likely, he’d been reading Nolan’s mind, trying to judge his reaction.

Nolan gritted his teeth. “Just because I don’t hate you, doesn’t mean everything is okay.”

Rikar nodded. “Understood.”

“I’ll need some time and distance to think.”

“I will give you as much time as you wish. I would even understand if you would never wish to see me again.”

He did like Rikar. And he’d saved Nolan’s life. But this new truth was more than he could handle right now—especially with the potential war, his life being at risk, and his whole self-perception dramatically changing. Nolan groaned. “I want to see you again … just not now.”

A smile touched Rikar’s mouth. “Then we will meet again.”

***

Rikar left with a bow, leaving Nolan alone. After a few minutes of standing buried in his thoughts, and the rubble of the destroyed conference room, Nolan went back to his quarters.

The sun was already setting, casting his room in dim shadows. He shivered, approached the fireplace, and grabbed a log. He froze when his Perception focused on another presence, another heartbeat and breath. He wasn’t alone.

A person sat concealed in the corner. Slowly, Nolan pulled a spike from his arm. Flaring his Speed, he whipped around but stopped just before the metal point left his hand.

“Emery?”

Emery placed a finger to his lips and motioned Nolan closer.

Nolan replaced the spike and tugged the blanket off his bed. Hugging it over his shoulders, he slid down the wall next to Emery. The fire would have to wait.

“I’m sorry to surprise you,” Emery said.

“I nearly tossed a spike at your head.” Nolan drew on his Perception, allowing the dimness of his room to fade.

“I should’ve said something,” Emery said, “especially with all you’ve been through. It’s just hard to find time alone.”

Obviously, the Rol’dan would want to protect him. “They’ll find you eventually, you know. They’re probably searching for you now.”

Emery wrapped his arms around himself. “I know.”

Nolan sighed, adjusting his position on the floor. Not that he didn’t want to be there for Emery, but his mind already ached from his talk with Rikar. He cleared his throat. “Did you talk to Megan yet?”

“No. Not yet. Have no idea what I’m going to say.”

“How about the truth?”

Emery scowled. “That a Guardian tried to ravish her again?”

It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, especially with a topic so sensitive to Emery. But still, Megan deserved to know. “She’ll take the news better than you think. She’s strong.”

“She is,” Emery said. “Far stronger than I am. But talking to her about this event might start … other conversations.”

A pair of soldiers walked by, their laughter fading as they continued down the hall. Nolan’s and Emery’s eyes met. It was almost like playing a game of hide and seek.

Emery lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think what bothers me most is that Rikar could see, in a single moment, how much I neglect her. Telling Megan about the Guardian will only confirm my faults.”

“Your faults? Does she even know what happened to you in the Rol’dan?”

Emery gave a slight nod. “She knows vaguely.”

Nolan rubbed his temple. He wanted to be here for his friend, but crows. He really had his own problems right now. At this point, Emery should’ve been talking to Megan, not crouched in Nolan’s room hiding from the whole Rol’dan army.

Nolan released a long sigh. “You’ve lied to her about how you feel. Haven’t even told her what her pregnancy can do to her. And you are hiding in my room instead of talking to her about Rikar. You worry about neglecting her without bothering to tell her why. She’s your wife. Why are you talking to me? She’s the one you should be talking to. Just tell her everything.” And go away, and leave me alone.

Emery scowled. “I agree about the baby. I’ve been planning on telling her but haven’t quite figured out how. I suppose this incident with Rikar would be a good introduction.

“But, concerning my past and what I should or shouldn’t share … ” Emery continued. “You are a wise young man, Nolan. But sometimes things aren’t so black and white.”

“She’s been through the same thing. She’d understand. Besides, Rikar visited her because you’ve been ignoring her, right? Your past seems to be the root of a lot of issues between you two. She’d feel better if she knew you were only trying to protect her—”

“That’s the problem, Nolan. I haven’t been protecting her. My avoidance isn’t noble, by any means. We haven’t, because … ” Emery studied his hand, twirling the wedding band on his finger. “It’s because I’m afraid.”

A quick knock sounded at Nolan’s door. It opened before Nolan could even stand.

“Nolan.” Kael held up a lantern. “We can’t find—” His eyes dropped to Emery. He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty. We have news.”

“News?” Emery asked, standing. “Of the Talasians or the gypsies?”

“The Talasians. Their fleet is nearly at our doors.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“HOW LONG UNTIL THEY GET HERE?” Alec chucked the apple into the air, caught it, and flung it again.

“One week, they’re guessing.”

“One week! Hopefully, I’ll be out of this nightforsaken bed by then.”

Nolan was wondering the same thing about himself. Would he be strong enough to fight the Talasian army if he had to, or would he be lying in bed like Alec, helpless and frail? Would he have enough Shay light to last until they arrive? Maybe he’d even be dead by then.

The Guardians had left at first light in search of Jezebelle and the stones. Greer was convinced they could find her and retrieve them before the Talasian army arrived. But now, Nolan worried more about them. The Guardians had their honor and would do everything not to harm Jezebelle. However, Jezebelle wouldn’t have any problems killing them.

Rayen entered, clothed in a new dress of blue with flowers appliquéd along the sleeves. The castle seamstress had gotten ahold of her too, it seemed. She pulled the apple from Alec’s grasp and sat, taking a bite. She studied it, turning it in her hand. “Now this is good.”

Alec shook his head. “She likes the apple but hates my pastries. And by the way, that was mine.”

“The pastries are … What is the word? Honorable?”

“You mean horrible.”

“Yes. Horrible.” She grinned and took another bite.

“Bizarre girl. Doesn’t know what’s good or not.”

She pointed at Alec. “You are good.”

“You’re right,” Nolan said. “She’s clueless.”

Alec snorted and nabbed another apple from the bowl. He whipped it at him, but Nolan easily snatched it from the air.

“So are you ready to take on an army?” Alec asked.

“Do I need to? As strong as the Talasian warriors are, they don’t have Shay powers. The Rol’dan can defend themselves without me.”

“Or,” Rayen said, “we will all talk and become friends.”

Alec’s eyes softened at Rayen. “Of course.”

Nolan wasn’t worried about the Talasians. Rayen was right: Once they saw her, their violence could very well pass, especially if their queen was alive and well. Nolan ran a hand over his chin and sighed. At least this pending confrontation helped him avoid his thoughts of Rikar. He wondered where the Guardian was now. Would he ever see him again? He said he would find out more about Jezebelle’s past. Was she Nolan’s sister?

Nolan turned to Alec and found his friend’s eyes studying him.

“Hey, Rayen?” Alec said.

“Yes?”

“Could you go to the kitchen and bring me more apples?”

She nodded and stood. “Would you like anything else?”

“A pitcher of water would be great.”

She glided across the room and passed through the door.

Nolan laughed. “How’d you manage to get a queen waiting on you like a servant?”

Alec scowled. “Okay, Nolan. What’s wrong?”

Nolan’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? There’s only a war coming, and the stones are missing. My powers weaken by the day, and the Guardians are risking their lives to try and get the stones back for me. What else could there be?”

“No. Something else is bothering you. It’s been bothering you since you returned from that nightforsaken gypsy camp.”

“I’ve been through a lot. I told you what happened.”

Determination flared in Alec’s emotions. “You’re a bad liar. Something is eating you—and you’re going to tell me.”

Nolan stared, shocked. Was he that transparent? His issues were small in comparison to everything else going on. Why should he bother Alec with his problems?

“You can tell me anything,” Alec said, his emotions stubborn.

Nolan nodded slowly. It would be good to tell someone, especially Alec. He sighed. “Rikar is my father.”

“Wasn’t your father’s name Boren or Boden or something?”

Nolan leveled his gaze at Alec.

Alec sucked in a breath. “Oh … you mean your father isn’t really your father.”

Silence followed, and Nolan studied his hands.

“Um, Nolan? Who’s Rikar?”

Nolan hesitated. He pried the next words from his throat. “Rikar is the Guardian I met at the gypsy camp.”

Realization fell across Alec’s face. “Oh … That Rikar? Are you sure?”

Nolan nodded, his head heavy.

“Does this explain what you are?”

Nolan nodded again.

Staring ahead, Alec crunched another bite from his apple, chewing slowly. “Here I thought you were having trouble with Kat.”

Nolan snorted a laugh. “Kat? Why would I be having trouble with Kat? I’ve barely seen her since I returned.”

“Was hoping you two would … Well, she likes you.”

Nolan sighed. “I know.”

“And you like her too.”

Nolan’s eyes widened. “I don’t—”

“Don’t even try,” Alec said. “Like I said, you’re a bad liar.”

“Is it fair to her? I’m not even human!”

“Honestly,” Alec said, his mouth rising in a smirk. “I don’t think Kat minds.”

Nolan groaned and put both hands on his head. This was the least of his concerns, as if he needed something else to clutter his mind.

Alec sucked in a breath. “Wait! What about Jezebelle? Is she half Guardian too?”

“So it would seem.”

“So who is her father?”

Nolan shrugged. “Rikar had done this before. To a lot of women, I guess. My mother was one of many. He transforms into humans, into people they know. Last night he pretended to be Emery—”

Alec grabbed his arm. “Wait! You mean Megan?”

“Don’t worry. Greer stopped him.”

Alec nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “I was wondering what happened. So that’s why the Guardians destroyed the conference room. The soldiers and the staff talked about it all day.”

“Greer wasn’t happy.”

“I imagine not. I bet Emery wasn’t all that happy, either.”

“No. Rikar left Faylinn right away.”

Alec stared at him, sympathy pulsing from his emotions until realization, then shock took its place. “If Rikar does this, does that make Jezebelle … your sister?”

“Maybe. Don’t know for sure.”

“So, if she comes here,” Alec said, “are you okay with fighting her?”

“I am,” Nolan said, although, truthfully, he wasn’t sure. He’d protect the people he loved, no matter who attacked them. The question that pressed in Nolan’s mind wasn’t if he was willing to fight her, it was if he’d be strong enough if she arrived. Hopefully, the Guardians would find her before she came to Faylinn. He needed the stones to have any chance.

Rayen reappeared with a pitcher in one hand, a bowl of apples in the other, and a plate of pastries balanced on her arm. They both stared at her, impressed. She set them all down without fumbling.

Alec’s face broke into a wide grin. “You are the best.”

A smug grin pulled at her lips. “I must go. King Emery wants to talk about my people’s coming.”

“I’ll see you this evening?”

“Will be back soon.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Embarrassment leaked from Alec’s emotions, but his eyes followed her as she left the room.

They dug into the pastries, and Nolan thought more about the possibility of fighting Jezebelle. Kael was a far better swordsman, at least in raw talent, than Nolan would ever be—if you didn’t count Nolan’s Shay advantages. And if Kael had struggled fighting her, Nolan definitely needed to learn more about this enemy. Which meant he needed to know everything about the way she fought. And though he could research—Emery had quite a big library—hands-on training was always more effective.

“What does your father know about daggers?” Nolan asked.

“Daggers?” Alec repeated as he brushed crumbs from his shirt. “You mean making them or fighting with them?”

“Both.”

“He makes perfect daggers, and he uses them well too. Why?”

“Well,” Nolan said, “Jezebelle uses daggers.”

“Ah. So you want to learn daggers?”

Nolan shrugged. “Might be a good idea.”

“You can do it,” Alec said. “You are half Guardian, after all.”

Nolan cringed at the comment, even if Alec only teased him. “Want to come along? Or would you rather stay in bed?”

Alec grinned; the scar dissecting his lip puckered. “Would I rather stay in bed? Darkness, no. I’m sure Father is at his forge.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

KARDOS DEVERELL WAS A MAN like no other. He only came up to Nolan’s chest, but he walked around Nolan, inspecting him like a farmer might examine a prize bull. Fearlessness and determination poured from the blacksmith. No one needed to question where Alec had gotten his pigheaded streak.

“Take those off,” Kardos said, jabbing at the leather straps holding Nolan’s spikes. “And that too,” he said toward the blade.

Nolan unbuckled his weapons and laid them on the ground near the wall, feeling naked. Since the incident with Jezebelle, he didn’t like being unarmed.

“Take off your shirt,” Kardos said.

Nolan looked at Alec, who held up both hands in a don’t look at me gesture. His friend tried to hide his grin, but his emotions were so full of mirth, it was quite a distraction.

Nolan sighed and pulled his tunic over his head. Kardos made another pass. “Will do, I suppose.” He slapped Nolan’s arm. “Hold it out.”

Nolan did as he was told, and Kardos grabbed his wrist.

The blacksmith’s hands were calloused and rough, with thick fingers and a strong grasp. He turned Nolan’s arm, examining it from each angle. He slapped Nolan’s palm open, then inspected it. “I don’t have any daggers your size. Can make some, but it’ll take a few days.”

“Anything will be fine,” Nolan said.

“Who’s the weapons master here? You? Don’t see you workin’ my forge.” He eyed him, brown eyes squinting under bushy brows. “The ones I have are too small. It’s got to fit properly.”

He went to a wall where an arsenal of swords and bits of armor were displayed. In a short, squatty barrel near the ground, he rummaged through several handles. Finally, he pulled out two daggers. He tossed one at Nolan.

Nolan caught it, his Accuracy flaring to life without thought. He cursed under his breath, pushing it back down. He couldn’t fritter away his power for something so simple as catching a blade.

Kardos tilted his head. “Accuracy?” He circled Nolan one more time, the second dagger clutched in his hand. Nolan waited for him to finish searching for whatever he was looking for when pain flashed through his back.

Nolan grabbed the spot, and his hand pulled away red and warm. Kardos held a dagger, its edge tinted with blood.

“Lesson number one,” Kardos said. “Those who fight with daggers don’t follow rules. They don’t give a rat’s backside if you’re ready or not. They’d even prefer to sneak up on you if you let them. My guess is this gypsy of yours falls into that sort of description, eh?”

Healing flared involuntarily, closing his wound; Kardos eyed the spot, a smirk hinting on his face. “Healing too, eh? Good. You’re going to need it.”

Over the next hour, Kardos pushed him, slashing and jabbing, giving Nolan so many cuts he lost count. Any time Nolan even considered flaring a Shay power for defense, Kardos would explode, flinging curse words to make a dungeon guard blush.

“This wench you’ll be fighting,” Kardos yelled, “she’ll be having the powers too? So don’t use them against me. When you fight her, you won’t have that advantage.”

Nolan closed another wound—a nasty one on his shoulder—and refocused. He risked a glance at Alec, who seemed to enjoy this far too much. He turned back, just in time to feel Kardos’s dagger slide under his ribs, all the way to the hilt.

Nolan gasped.

Kardos pushed, jamming it farther in. His emotions were steady, not cruel. “Pay attention.”

He yanked the blade out, and Nolan collapsed to his knees, his Healing flaring to life before he hit the ground.

“Father!” Alec jumped to his feet.

“Don’t get all worried, boy,” Kardos said, flicking his dagger and spotting the ground with red. “He can heal.”

Nolan blinked back his shock and stabbed Kardos in the leg.

Kardos yelled, and his leg buckled. Nolan grabbed his arm before the blacksmith fell and healed the wound closed. “I can heal others too.”

A grin spread across Kardos’s face. He swiped his dagger toward Nolan, leaving a clean slash running horizontally across his chest.

Nolan grunted, biting back the stinging pain. He flared his Healing, but not before a crimson waterfall painted his chest.

Kardos stepped away, tossing his dagger from one hand to the other; his eyes were as wild as his hair. “All right, lad. Let’s see what you’ve really got. Just don’t kill me.”

***

As with any lesson from Kardos, it always drew a crowd. The first time he’d met Alec in Alton, Nolan had walked into Kardos’s shop and watched him and his father dueling as if to the death. Today was similar, except Nolan was the one being sliced by the blacksmith. Alec sat to the side, grinning, having the time of his life. And, unlike Alec’s fights, this one was a bloodbath.

Kardos swept in, jabbing and leaving a mark.

Nolan yanked back, sporting a new gouge. It hurt worse than a hornet’s sting.

The soldiers whooped a chorus of cheers.

Nolan flared his Healing, but Kardos jabbed again. He tried to dodge, doing his best to keep his powers in check. The only thing that kept him going was dishing out his fair share of damage as well.

Kardos was unpredictable. Every time Nolan assumed he knew what the blacksmith would do, he’d pull another trick. He was right about dagger fighting; there were no rules.

Nolan lunged in, using his long arms to his advantage.

Kardos staggered, cursing, his eyes blazing blue with Accuracy Shay.

An older woman, still attractive for her age, leaned over to touch Kardos’s sweaty arm, sealing his wound. Nolan sighed, relieved. It was risky using this much Healing for himself, let alone others.

Nolan trudged next to Alec and grabbed a towel to mop his head. “Enjoying yourself?”

Alec laughed. “Immensely.” He handed Nolan a mug of water. “Um, watch out.”

Nolan didn’t move fast enough, for the knife slid under his ribs. Nolan gritted his teeth, growling in pain. What’s with the nightforsaken ribs?

“Pay attention!” Kardos scolded, probably for the twentieth time.

Nolan cursed as Kardos yanked out his blade. The soldiers, of course, all roared in thunderous approval. Some clapping. Some cheering. Money exchanged hands. They’re betting against me?

Nolan surged his Shay, healing the wound.

Kardos came at him again.

Nolan threw up his hands. “Enough!”

Alec snorted. “Oh, Nolan.”

“Enough?” Kardos said, eyes on fire. Not anger, but stubbornness pounded from his emotions.

With a dagger in each hand … Where did he get another nightforsaken dagger? … Kardos went at him. Nolan threw up his arm, blocking his torso, trying to ignore the pain as it sliced his arm. Blood dripped to the dirt.

Kardos still pressed forward, stabbing upward. Nolan jumped back, trying to get some space.

“Fight back!” Kardos roared, still jabbing. Finally, Kardos dove at him, dropped one dagger, and used his arm to grab Nolan’s. He thrust, sinking the dagger into Nolan’s side.

Nolan’s breath left him. As soon as Kardos freed his blade, Nolan’s Healing took hold.

Kardos, who’d fought like a maniac just a moment before, casually stepped away, shaking his head with disapproval. “I could’ve went straight into your heart.”

As he caught his breath, Nolan noticed that more Rol’dan passed coins from one to another, laughing. Kael slipped a full money pouch into an inner pocket of his jerkin. Nolan blinked back shock. Kael bet against me?

“Come back tomorrow, lad,” Kardos said. He held out his hand, offering it to Nolan. “Good fight.”

Nolan examined Kardos. It was as if he’d been in a war. Blood matted the hair on his chest. Swipes of blood coated his face, his arms, his legs. Nolan had gotten a fair amount of jabs in, but Kardos had done more. If Kardos looked that gory, Nolan didn’t want to know how much carnage covered him.

The room started to clear.

Kael smiled. “Brother! You fight well.” He eyed Kardos. “He fights better.”

“Profitable for you?” Nolan said, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Yes! Thank you!” Kael patted his jingling pocket. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You best make me lose my profit.”

“You’ll bet against me again?”

Kael threw back his head and laughed. “When you’re fighting against the bladesmith? Every time.” His smiled faded. “Why daggers? You’re already good with a sword.”

“The gypsy,” Nolan said.

“Ah, yes. Her. It’s a good idea.” Kael slapped Nolan’s arm and drew back his blood-coated palm. “Get cleaned up. You look like death.”

Alec approached, still pale and drawn.

Kael’s eyes traveled the length of him. “Should you be out of bed?”

“Probably not. But I can’t lie there anymore.”

“I’m surprised you stayed put so long.” Kael strode toward the door, and several officers saluted him. “See you tomorrow.”

Kardos had already returned to his place at his forge, his hands gripped around a pair of tongs. The woman who’d been healing him leaned over a chair, chatting. Kardos smiled.

“Who’s that?” Nolan asked.

“Her?” Alec smiled. “Her name is Grace, I think. She’s nice.”

Kardos laughed at something she said.

“I can’t believe he’s working after fighting.”

Alec snorted. “Father never slows. He’s always the first to rise and the last to sleep. Sometimes I wonder if he sleeps at all.”

Kardos laughed again while the woman leaned in. Nolan dipped into their thoughts, just a little, and smiled.

“Going to make me stand here all day?” a voice said.

Nolan turned. Kat stood at the door, leaning against the frame. Nolan’s leather straps, laden with spikes, were tossed over her shoulder. His white tunic and scabbard were clutched in her hands. Since he’d returned to Faylinn, he’d hardly seen her. She’d been busy being a soldier while Nolan had hidden in his room trying to deal with other things. But seeing her now made his insides warm. He’d missed her.

“I’m going to head to the castle,” Alec said.

“You need help?” Nolan asked.

“Not from you! You’re a mess.” He nodded toward Kat with a sly grin. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

Nolan knew he was lying. He could barely walk. He would struggle to get back, but Alec would be okay with the struggle.

“All right,” Nolan said. “I’ll check on you later.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alec limped off, smiling at Kat before stepping out the door. “Take your time.”

Kat pushed off the wall and stepped toward Nolan.

“Thanks,” he said, holding out his hands for his things.

“No way,” she said. “You’ll ruin everything.”

For the first time, Nolan examined himself. A thin coating of blood nearly covered him. Some dried, some still wet and sticky. His hands were worst of all. “Suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she said. “Come on.”

He followed her out the door. Twilight had fallen. Had he battled all day? His stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d skipped dinner.

“You can eat after,” she said. She must’ve heard his stomach too. Instead of the castle, Kat strode toward the gate.

“The castle’s that way.”

She laughed. “The maids would skin you alive if you tracked blood around the place. Follow me.”

Awkward stares and whispers followed them. She turned, cutting across the width of the field. Nolan could still feel Empathy Shays on him, and orange lights of Perception Rol’dan watched from the walls of Faylinn. Kat kept on walking, not speaking, as they cleared the end of the wall.

She kept going until the sea broke into view. The wind had a bite, but the gentle waves reminded him of a time when things were a lot simpler.

She grinned—then she started stripping her clothes.

The smile dropped from Nolan’s face. “W-what are you doing?”

“I can’t get my uniform all wet, can I?”

Nolan looked around the shore. They were alone. “Crows, Kat. The water is probably freezing.”

She didn’t answer, only tossed her tunic aside with a flourish.

Nolan swallowed hard and tried to look away, but he couldn’t. Why wasn’t he stopping himself? He couldn’t let this happen. Why should he give her false hope when the two of them could never be a couple? He couldn’t allow it, for her safety. He wasn’t human. But even as he reasoned with himself, he couldn’t pry his traitorous eyes away.

In short order, she undressed to her undergarments. Thankfully, she left those on as she ran into the waves. She squealed as she hit the water.

“Come on!” she said.

Nolan looked around and found the shore empty. He pulled off his boots but left his breeches on. They were coated with blood anyway.

He walked into the waves, gasping as the icy water hit his skin. He’d gone swimming a lot growing up, but he usually didn’t do so this early in the season. Whatever fatigue he had was suddenly sucked away. Finally, he waded to her. She bobbed in the waves up to her neck.

“You’re a mess.” Her hands brushed over his chest.

He gasped and stepped back. “I can get that, thanks.”

Even with the cold water, a blush rose to his face. He plunged under, and the shock of cold promptly cleared his head. He came up and pretended she wasn’t there as he cleaned his chest, his arms, and his face. Red stains tinted the water before they were washed away. He raised his eyes, meeting her intense gaze.

“Kat—”

“I can’t help it,” she said. “You’re so beautiful.”

She closed in. He wanted to step away, but his feet were rooted. Before he could speak, she reached for him. Nolan’s breath hitched; he grabbed her wrists, holding them. “So this is why you like me? Because I’m … beautiful?”

She leaned forward, her wrists still in his hands. “Oh, Nolan. I liked you before you changed. When I watched you fight the first time … So graceful. So powerful. So dangerous. Then you showed me mercy.”

The way she tilted her chin to him made him loosen his hold on her wrists. She didn’t hesitate but slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, inches from her lips. “And then, when you attacked the castle, you could’ve killed them all but didn’t.” Her lips nearly touched his, her breath warm in the cool air. “And then you gave your life for that cad brother of yours—”

Nolan yanked back. “Oh, come now. Kael isn’t that bad.”

She snorted. “He’s bedded nearly every woman in the Rol’dan. He’s self-centered. Hotheaded. Stubborn—”

“Nearly every woman?”

She winked. “Not me.”

Leaning in, her lips were against his, her fingers twining in his hair. He’d kissed her once before when he’d absorbed Megan’s dream. But now, his feelings weren’t coerced. The sensations were all too real.

Waves splashed, hitting their bodies. Salty water sprayed on their joined lips.

He pulled back, groaning. “Kat. I can’t. We can’t.”

“I know,” she said, her voice breathy. “Megan told me.”

Reality smacked him back into focus. “Megan … told you?”

“Emery talked to her this morning, about the danger of having the baby. The whole incident with Rikar brought up a lot of things.”

“He talked to her?” Finally. “But how do you know about all of this?”

“She was upset and needed to talk. We’ve become pretty good friends.”

Nolan scowled. “And what does this have to do with us?”

“She said you were probably worried about … being with women, because you are so much like a Guardian.”

Nolan crossed his arms over his chest. Megan was quite insightful.

“We’re just kissing. We don’t have to do anything else.”

“You’re okay with that?”

She laughed, throwing her head back. A drip of water trailed down her neck. “Oh, Nolan. Just because I think things, it doesn’t mean I’d really do them.” She bit her lip. “As lovely as you are, it’s not worth risking death.”

He nodded slowly. She understood, thank Brim.

They’d drifted closer to the shore and stood only waist deep in the waves now. The moon shone fully tonight, allowing them to see each other quite well. Hesitantly, he dropped his eyes, and his breath stopped. She’s the one who’s beautiful. He pried his eyes free and found her watching him.

His face reddened. “Kat—”

“Shh.” She put her fingers to his lips. “Kiss me again.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“PUT YOUR LEGS APART.”

Kat did as she was told but leaned against him, glancing over her shoulder as one side of her mouth curled upward.

Nolan stepped back, putting some distance between them. She was so … distracting. “Come on, Kat.”

“Why?” she asked, pouting. “I’m terrible at this!”

Nolan tightened the strap of the throwing spikes he’d attached to her. “It’s good to learn more than one skill.”

“Says the man with six powers. You’ve got Accuracy!”

She sighed dramatically and yanked a spike from the chest holster. Palming the throwing spike, she gave it a flick. It twirled, end over end, then wobbled, and disappeared somewhere in the weeds, missing the tree altogether.

“We should try the sling instead,” Nolan thought aloud.

“See! Even you think I’m hopeless!”

“No, I don’t!” Nolan lied. “All right … a little. But anyone can improve. Maybe there’s a book on thrown weapons in the king’s library. If you just practiced more, I’m sure you could improve.”

“A book?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “And why would I want to practice something I won’t use? I can just use my sword.” She slapped the hilt of her weapon, as if giving it emphasis.

“There are times when a sword is useless.”

“Such as?”

“What if a wall of archers faced you? You can’t fight them with a sword.”

“I can dodge. I’m fast.”

She was fast, even for a Speed Rol’dan.

He cleared his throat. “But you can’t attack them.”

“I’d run past and take them out from behind.” She jutted her chin out, obviously pleased with her argument.

Nolan snapped his fingers. “I used them against a whole battalion of Speed Rol’dan, remember?”

She blinked. Of course she remembered. He’d nearly killed her. She shook off her shock. “Well … we weren’t expecting you to throw spikes. If we’d seen you throw them, we would’ve dodged.”

This was also true. It would’ve been a lot harder if they’d known. “You can use them for a surprise.”

She shook her head, unconvinced.

Nolan flashed her a grin. “Besides. Think of all the quality time you can spend with me.”

She snaked her arms around his neck. “It’s not the only way to spend quality time.”

Nolan pried her hands free. “Come on, Kat. Focus. These spikes might come in handy someday.”

After another ten minutes of failed throws, Nolan finally conceded.

Kat started to remove the spike belt, but Nolan touched her arm, stopping her. “Keep it. It doesn’t fit me anymore.” She’d been using the one he’d had before his transformation.

From her scowl, she’d most likely be whipping it off and tossing it into a corner as soon as he turned his back.

They walked back to Faylinn.

“Do you want to go for another swim?” she asked.

For the last week, Nolan had trained with Kardos. Kat waited each time, carrying his things until he’d wash the blood into the sea. After, they would find each other, bringing themselves to a point where Nolan was glad the cold waves splashed against his skin.

“Haven’t you had enough swimming?” he asked.

She smirked. “I wasn’t interested in the swimming.”

Nolan shook his head. “Come on, Kat. We could just sit and talk once in a while.”

“Why?”

“I barely know anything about you. Where are you from? Do you have any siblings? Do you like doing anything besides making me crazy?”

She held her hands up in defeat. “All right! There’s a nice rock near the wall by the sea. Even if we don’t swim, I know you’ll like it there. We’ll just sit and talk.”

He cast her a suspicious glance. Not that he minded kissing her—he liked it quite a bit—but he wanted to know more about her than her lips and how she looked after jumping into the water.

He shook off the mental image. This time, they would talk. She grabbed his hand, weaving her fingers into his, as they strolled through the woods. Even the touch of her hand sent shivers up his arm.

They reached the shore and situated themselves on the rock. She turned to him and put her hands in her lap, apparently showing him how well behaved she could be.

“I’m from Tramaine,” she said.

“The mining city?”

She nodded. “And I have five older brothers.”

“Five, eh? Any who will give me any trouble?”

She laughed. “Give you trouble? No. I’d like to see them try. Besides, they aren’t the protective types. They beat me up as much as each other.”

“So you didn’t play with dolls much?”

“Not much, no.”

Roughhousing with a bunch of brothers seemed to fit her.

“What about you?” she asked. “You grew up on a boat?”

“Practically. My family’s business was fishing.” He cleared his throat. “You know my brother. My mom died when I was born. And my father is a twit.”

She laughed. “So Kael takes after his father, then?”

“He does, actually.”

Kat picked up a rock and tossed it. It bounced twice and disappeared in a wave. “I’ve kissed Kael before.”

Nolan’s eyes jerked toward her, but she continued looking at the sea. A playful smile touched her lips.

“Did you?”

“Like I said, he tries with most of the girls. He can be quite charming when he’s trying to use you.”

As hard as Nolan tried to dismiss her comment, a spike of jealousy tugged at him.

“That’s as far as he got,” she said. “I don’t like to be used.”

A question touched his mind. He hesitated, wondering how to broach the subject. She turned to him, and her playful smiled faded. “What is it?”

“I know it’s none of my business. So if you don’t want to answer, I understand.”

She waited, curiosity emanating from her.

“Alcandor sometimes summoned people for … things.”

Understanding ticked in her expression. She nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “I’m not great with a weapon, and I’m not the most beautiful. I did my best to blend in, to disappear. So no, he never called me.”

Nolan nodded, relieved.

“And, so we’re clear on this,” she said, “no, I’ve never been with anyone, either. Not General Trividar. Not Alcandor. Not anyone else.” She slid closer to him, stood, and then sat on his lap.

He held her, wrapping his arms around her narrow waist. Her presence was familiar to him now. But the closeness of her next to him made his head lighten.

She laced her arms around his neck, and her hazel eyes danced with mischief. “How about you, Nolan?”

He smiled, suddenly self-conscious. “A married woman tried to seduce me once … or twice.”

“She probably didn’t get very far.”

“Am I that predictable?” Nolan said. “I’ve always been a little shy around girls.”

“Obviously.” Kat pressed closer, nuzzling his neck. Nolan’s breath quickened as her lips touched under his ear.

His breath hitched. “Kat. Stop that.”

She didn’t.

Nolan groaned and gently squeezed her waist, his pulse increasing. The girl drove him mad. “Megan kissed me once.”

She pulled back, curious. “Did she? Was it nice?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.”

Her expression grew serious. “Nolan, do you love her?”

“No.”

“You care for her, though?”

“Of course I do. She’s my friend.”

Kat nodded slowly. He hoped she wouldn’t ask the same question about herself. He liked her. A lot. But love was such a strong word; he’d never been in love.

“One more question,” Nolan said, changing the subject.

“What’s that?”

“Why do you call me Nolan?”

She laughed. “Why do I call you Nolan? Because that’s your name.”

“Why do you call me Nolan now? You refused for so long; what made you change your mind?”

The smile slid from her face. “When I first met you, it was hard to see you as anything but a god.”

He was far from being a god, but he knew what she spoke of. Awe had poured from her nearly all the time.

“When we found you at the gypsy camp,” she continued, “you were nearly dead. You were so helpless. I just wanted to protect you. It was then when I knew you weren’t a god. You’re a man.”

He snorted. That’s up for discussion.

“You are! Just because you’re … different doesn’t make you any less human.”

“Unless I’m a Guardian.”

“Just because you look like a Guardian doesn’t make you a Guardian.”

He took her hand in both of his; they were so small. “Kat. I am a Guardian.”

She blinked at him, her mind turning with confusion.

Slowly, he forced out his story. His time with the gypsies. Rikar. And then the truth. As he talked, Kat’s eyes were fixed on him, concern pulsing from her in gentle waves. When he finished, he couldn’t look at her. What would she think of him?

A hand reached under his chin, pulling him to face her. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Nolan. If you told me you were half Dor’Jan, I would still feel the same way.”

He smiled, relief covering his anxiousness. She was beautiful. And though he couldn’t say he loved her now, he was well on his way.

They sat and talked for a while. About life at home and things they used to like to do before they’d gotten their Shay powers. After a while, the conversation shifted to the current situations. About the Talasians and about Nolan’s powers.

“So how are you feeling?” Kat asked.

“A little weak, actually. These matches with Kardos have been draining me. I don’t think I should do any more until the Guardians return.”

“Wonder what’s keeping them.”

“Wish I knew.” Nolan ran a hand across his chin. “It’s been close to a week. They should’ve returned by now.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if something bad had happened. Were the Guardians dead? His stomach turned just thinking of it. He shouldn’t have let them go.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

Nolan nodded hesitantly. “I hope so.”

They sat in silence for a while, which then turned to kissing. He liked kissing her, but this time, his heart was only half involved. What would he do if the Guardians never returned? He needed to speak to Emery. Maybe a few Rol’dan could be spared to go look for them. Suddenly, he froze as an Empathy Shay touched him.

He pulled from the kiss and looked up, searching.

She started doing the same. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes.” He aimed his Perception toward the tree line. Nobody was there. A movement caught his eye in the distance, out on the water. Nolan brought it closer into view. He inhaled sharply. So much for the rest of their conversation.

“What is it?” she asked.

He stood, dislodging her from his lap. “We need to tell the others; the Talasian ships are here.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

BY THE TIME NOLAN ARRIVED in the castle, soldiers ran to and from the throne room, strapping on their weapons. Emery strode from the rear entrance, tying on a teal cloak that reached the floor. He met Nolan’s eyes, and a pulse of relief leaked from him.

“Nolan. Might I have a word with you?”

Nolan nodded, and they headed toward the privacy of the conference room. The broken table and chairs had been removed after the confrontation between the Guardians a week prior. A new table and chairs sat in their place. Though functional, the new additions weren’t as ornamented as the last. Only simple and sturdy wood; the arms and legs of the chairs were no longer lavishly engraved. Knowing Emery, he most likely chose the new furniture himself, probably from a common merchant.

Emery closed the door and stood there for a long minute, his hands shaking against the wooden frame.

“Emery? Are you all right?”

He turned, brown eyes locking on Nolan’s. “I wanted to ask the same of you. Are you well?”

Nolan blew out a long breath. He couldn’t ask Emery for soldiers to search for the Guardians nor the stones, not with the Talasian army at their shore. Even so, he couldn’t lie. Not to Emery. “I’m a little weak, but I’m fine for now.”

Emery nodded and ran a shaking hand over his beard. “I’m terrified. And I can’t let them see—I’m their king, for Brim’s sake.”

“We might not have a war at all,” Nolan said. “At least we have Rayen.”

“Yes, Rayen, praise Brim. Thank the light Alec was stubborn enough not to listen to me. I’ve put him in charge of protecting her.”

“Is he up to it?” Nolan asked.

“Darkness no,” he said. “But there is no stopping the boy once he gets his mind set on something. He’s also one of the most talented fighters I have. He’ll be motivated to keep her safe.”

A knock sounded at the door before it opened; Kael poked his head in. “It’s time, Your Majesty. They are willing to talk.”

“Have you relayed my orders?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “All will be as you wish.”

“What orders?” Nolan asked.

“I told them if diplomacy fails, they are to detain the Talasians without killing them.”

Nolan’s brows rose. “They probably won’t offer the same, Emery.”

“I know.” Emery exited the throne room with Nolan at his side; a platoon of guards joined them at their flanks. “But they have already lost twenty men to my soldiers. I will not add to their numbers if I can help it.”

The doors to the castle opened, and an extraordinary sight met them. The Rol’dan army, in its entirety, had formed into ranks on the lawn. Rows and rows of soldiers were organized by color. Strength Rol’dan in red tunics gripped large war hammers. Blue-cloaked soldiers held bows. Swords sang from the sheaths of Speed Rol’dan. And even Perception and Empathy soldiers wielded weapons: some with spears, others with bows, and still others with swords. Black-robed Healers stood in ranks intermixed between the other rows, all clutching quarterstaffs.

Emery strode in front of the throng, not showing them the fear he’d displayed to Nolan just moments before. Now, he was the embodiment of a king.

“Where’s Maska?” Emery asked.

Kael pointed. “On his way.”

A figure trailed across the field, stepping wide of the Rol’dan army. Maska approached dressed … well, he looked quite nice. It appeared the seamstress had gotten ahold of him, and he didn’t seem very pleased about it.

Maska wore brown breeches with a silky sheen. The fabric of his tunic was white and made of the same fine material. There was an excessive amount of buttons on his boots; unfortunately for Maska, the seamstress had outdone herself.

Maska pulled at his doublet. “Emery, how does this help me fight?”

“You aren’t fighting. You’ll be a part of the negotiations. And if those go poorly, you still won’t fight your people.”

Maska frowned, though a tremor of relief pulsed from his emotions.

“I want them to know you’re a facet here,” Emery said.

“They hate me.”

Emery smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are important to me.”

Kael motioned toward his army. “They are ready, Your Majesty.”

Emery nodded. “Remember, unless something happens, they are to stay behind the wall. We don’t want to give the impression of hostility.”

“Hostility? You mean like the army standing with weapons at our gates?” Kael grumbled, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“General!” Emery scolded.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Kael added, though his emotions held no remorse. “What if they attack?”

“My general, they are Shay-less. If they attack … ” Emery leaned in, as if whispering. “Well then … just run away from them really fast.”

Kael snorted and turned toward his army. He made a motion with his hands, a chopping gesture. The rows separated, and archers jogged at a trot toward the stairs to the wall. The others marched forward, making ranks in the courtyard, positioning themselves so they could storm through the gates, if needed.

A Perception Rol’dan stepped toward them. “Your Majesty. A group approaches.”

“Let them in,” Emery said as a tremor of fear leaked through his restraint.

The large doors groaned open, and Nolan caught sight of what awaited them. A multitude of tan-skinned, tattooed warriors covered the field.

Rows upon rows of spears pointed to the sky. A sea of emotionless faces stretched across the army, but a stream of Nass pulled from the warriors, gathering to darken the already tense mood. It had been months since Nolan had cleansed Faylinn of the creatures. And now the sky hosted a freshly born batch of Nass. Nolan clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked.

A small contingent stepped across the field, a half-dozen or so, led by a warrior with so many tattoos they nearly covered the entirety of his skin. Nolan had never seen so many, not even on King Kamalin. The war party stopped in front of them.

“King Emery,” Maska said. “This is Tosho, incumbent ruler and war commander of the Talasian people.”

“Welcome,” Emery said with a small bow to the Talasian warrior. “You left too quickly after our previous, tragic visit. I didn’t have an opportunity to give my regrets.”

Maska translated, and the warrior’s emotions intensified. He stared at Maska, hate oozing from him so thick it nearly showed on his face. Abruptly, his emotions changed. He nodded and shifted to Emery.

“I told him that Rayen lives,” Maska said. “That your man saved her, and that you have captured those who are to blame.” One side of Maska’s mouth rose. “He seems pleased.”

“Pleased?” Kael said. “How can you tell?”

“There is more than facial expression to show how one feels.”

Tosho, the warrior, rattled off something in the Talasian tongue. His dark eyes locked on Emery, his stare intense.

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” Maska translated. “We can discuss the particulars of this, Ekon, you said his name was?”

Emery held out his hand in a flourish. “Please. Step this way.”

Kael made some swift hand gestures, and the captains stepped forward, along with a small group of guards. Captain Vikas, along with some others, followed them inside.

Vikas leaned in. “What do you think, Nolan?”

Nolan shrugged. He didn’t know what to think. So far everything seemed to be going better than they’d hoped. The volatile emotions emanating from the small party had faded, though some still held their mental guard.

They headed toward the throne room, and Rayen and Alec waited for them by the door. Rayen wore her traditional Talasian clothing, though it looked as if the seamstress had repaired it and added embellishments.

Tosho bowed low and punched a hand to his chest in greeting to his queen. When they entered the conference room, Emery and Tosho sat, positioning themselves on opposite sides of the table. Maska and Rayen also took their places, along with several of the Rol’dan captains.

The rest of the room stood, including the Talasian warriors. The room had never held so many before. Alec perched protectively next to Rayen’s chair, one hand on her shoulder, the other resting casually on his sword.

Emery unhooked his cloak and threw it over the back of his chair. “Let’s keep this brief so we can go back to talks of peace. Maska, if you could explain what happened that night. Leave nothing out.”

“Are you certain?”

“We have nothing to hide.”

Maska nodded before he began. The warriors listened, some supporting themselves on their spears. The war commander leaned forward in his chair, hanging on Maska’s every word.

After Maska had finished, the war commander asked a question.

“He wants to know what happened with this Ekon,” Maska said.

“He is imprisoned for now,” Emery said. “We haven’t yet decided what to do with him.”

Maska translated.

“He wants to know if they could punish him.”

Emery snorted. “I’d cut off his head and stick it on a platter myself if it would prevent war.”

Maska leaned forward to translate, and Emery grabbed his arm. “Crows, don’t tell him that.”

A few of the Rol’dan snickered, and Rayen’s mouth quirked up in a grin.

“Tell him,” Emery said, after some thought, “tell him we will allow whatever Talasian punishment is fitting for his crime. They can implement it here, in front of both our sides. I want justice done as well.” He turned to Rayen. “Of course, if you agree.”

Her face grew hard. “I’ll do it myself.”

Nolan relaxed as the discussions continued. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Even though the warriors were angry, it didn’t seem to be directed at them.

Nolan scanned each warrior, feeling similar emotions from each. Along with the anger for Ekon, their emotions pulsed with relief. More than likely, they weren’t too keen on fighting an army of Shay Rol’dan.

Nolan paused. A warrior, whose skin was less adorned than the others, had an incredible mental guard, even more impressive than Maska’s had been. The man stared at Emery, scowling. Nolan froze. Was he scowling? Why would a Talasian scowl?

Nolan summoned more Empathy and pushed again, trying to punch through the warrior’s resolve. The man’s eyes flicked to Nolan, and his eyebrow raised. Had he somehow sensed Nolan’s inspection? If so, how? Only those who have a Shay can feel.

The hair on Nolan’s arms prickled. Something wasn’t right about this Talasian, something wasn’t natural. Nolan grabbed the arms of his chair, readying to stand. Suddenly, violet light flashed in the warrior’s dark eyes.

Nolan stood, grabbing the hilt of his sword. As he did, the warrior’s legs and arms stretched, lengthening, growing before their eyes. Long braids sprung from the man’s scalp and crept down shoulders that were no longer bare.

Nolan blinked back his shock as Jezebelle stood in the warrior’s place. Her glowing eyes met his, and a smile spread. Her Empathy hit Nolan like a hammer blow.

Nolan’s world froze. His arms. His legs. He pressed his Empathy against hers, but his power was too low and her Shay too strong.

Her eyes changed from Empathy to Speed, and in the flash of a second, she was crouched on the table between Tosho and Emery, a dagger plunged into each of their chests.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

NOLAN’S MIND SCREAMED while his lips couldn’t move. He could only watch as she murdered his friend before his eyes.

Emery jerked, his eyes blinking in shock. Jezebelle yanked out the blades, and both Emery and the Talasian leader fell forward onto the table, the fronts of their chests flooding with red.

Jezebelle spun toward Rayen, her daggers extended, and met the lightning reflexes of Alec Deverell. She growled and tried again, but Alec parried every attack.

The Rol’dan awoke from their shock and dove toward the gypsy.

She dodged and spun and slit the throats of the Rol’dan and Talasians coming at her, and then she continued toward Rayen.

Nolan’s heart thundered. He pushed against Jezebelle’s invisible hold, and slowly, the mental dam stretched.

Vikas attacked the gypsy, and in a flurry of moves, he fell, thrashing on the ground.

Jezebelle screamed in frustration and healed her own wounds.

Nolan pushed again, straining. Then Jezebelle’s hold fell like a sheet dropping from a statue. Immediately, Nolan flung spikes her way.

Jezebelle screamed as they pierced her back. She threw her Empathy at Nolan again. This time, he blocked the mental attack.

She flew out the door, and the cries of pain and moaning erupted from the throne room.

Nolan jumped up, his breath heaving, rage coursing through his veins. He raced toward the door, ready to pursue her, but he stopped abruptly, as he took in the dead and dying covering the room. He focused his Perception, listening. Jezebelle had cut a path through the castle and the forces outside; she’d already left the walls of Faylinn.

Refocusing on the devastation, Nolan caught sight of Emery slumped over the table. Blood drained from Nolan’s face. He dove to his friend, but as he turned him over, glassy eyes confirmed his fears. Nolan’s heart sank. Oh, Emery.

Kael stormed in, his sword raised, as the gold blaze faded from his eyes. “What happened? Where did she come from?” His eyes widened as he locked on Nolan. “Crows! Crows, no!” He grabbed Nolan’s arm, yanking him away; Emery’s head thudded to the table.

“Kael, what are you—”

“Get away from him!” Kael shoved Nolan farther away. “We need you.”

Then it struck him. Kael assumed Nolan would try to bring Emery back to life. And though he hadn’t thought of it yet, he could see himself doing it.

Kael pointed to the others. “Focus on them. I swear, if you touch the king, I’ll cut off your hand.”

Nolan blinked. Kael meant it.

Nolan forced his eyes from Emery, tucking aside his grief. Vikas trembled on the ground paces away. Nolan knelt and met the older man’s wide eyes. He touched his cheek, sending Healing into him. Vikas arched, gasping, and then relaxed, breathing normally again.

Captain Tiohan circled the room, healing those he could, while Nolan did the same.

“How about out there?” Nolan asked, pointing to the throne room.

“Lady Megan showed up. She’s helping—”

Standing in the doorway, Megan stared, her mouth open and her fine dress stained in blood. Tears swelled and traced paths down her cheeks. “Emery,” she whispered.

She ran, but Kael caught her on her way.

“He’s gone,” he said.

She wrenched against him. “Let me go!”

“No, my lady. I won’t let you.”

She slapped him, but Kael didn’t release her.

“Let! Me! Go!”

Kael held her, his face set in a pain-filled scowl. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her once, before he spoke to her, inches from her face. “I won’t let you. You have no idea what it’s like—to wake from death with the one you love lying beside you. No. I won’t let you do it.”

At his words, Alec stiffened. He’d been kneeling over an injured Talasian warrior. “He’s right, Meg. You’d bring him back, but kill him on the inside.”

Her resolve fell, and she collapsed into Kael’s shoulder, sobbing.

Kael blinked, taken aback, his arms up, unsure what to do. Finally, he awkwardly wrapped them around her and rubbed her back.

Nolan closed his eyes and took a breath. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Emery was one of his closest friends, but even so, Nolan had to protect those who lived.

“I’ll do it,” a voice said.

Tiohan stood from healing Maska. Blood was streaked across his wrinkled face.

“Do what?” Kael’s face fell when realization sunk in. “Captain … I can’t order you to do this.”

“I am the Captain of the Healing Rol’dan. It is my duty. He’s my king.”

Megan’s tears stopped; she stared at Tiohan, both horror and hope leeching from her.

Kael gave one nod and looked away.

Tiohan motioned toward the table. “Set him on here.”

With a swipe of his arm, Nolan cleared the debris off the surface. Maska lifted him, his eyes flaring red as he tried to set him down. Emery’s body slipped, and Maska cursed under his breath. It was then when Nolan saw Maska’s right hand.

Three fingers were missing, cut off at an angle. Blood stained his sleeve, as well as coating his wrist and hand. What was left of his fingers had been healed, but Nolan could tell Maska struggled using them.

“Your hand,” Nolan said.

“At least I am alive,” Maska said. “She aimed for my throat.”

Jezebelle had to have used a lot of Strength to slice through Maska’s Strength-hardened muscles and bone. Several of the others in the room hadn’t had the same luck. Most of the Talasians’ necks were slit, as well as some Rol’dan soldiers’. The few remaining warriors, along with Rayen, were tending to their dead, which included the Talasian war commander.

“Are you certain, Captain?” Kael asked the older Rol’dan.

Tiohan gave one small nod.

“You’re a good man.”

“You are too, General. Though you’re too stubborn to let people know.”

Kael gave him a sad smile. “Please forgive me if I don’t stay. I … just can’t.”

Tiohan nodded. “Understood.”

Kael released Megan, and she ran to Emery’s side, taking one of his limp, pale hands in both of hers.

Kael strode toward the door, his posture erect.

“My General?” Tiohan asked.

Kael paused and turned his head, giving them his profile.

“I have a sister,” he said. “In Boden.”

“I will make certain she knows.”

The room cleared. Alec gave Nolan a look of apology before he darted from the room. Only Tiohan, Megan, and Nolan remained. Megan turned to Tiohan, her face wet with tears. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Shh, now, lass,” Tiohan said. “I know what I’m doing. And no, it should be me, not you.”

She tried to speak, but couldn’t. She blinked, and tears trailed down her cheeks. Her emotions were a concoction of grief, and hope, and guilt. Nolan swallowed. He felt much the same. Part of him wanted to bring back Emery himself; he was his friend, after all. The other part, the logical one, knew Kael was right; they needed him to fight Jezebelle if she returned. And from the thoughts going through Jezebelle’s mind as she’d killed, she would return.

Nolan ripped open the front of Emery’s tunic; full contact made the job easier. The dagger had done its job quickly, going straight to Emery’s heart. His body was flawless except for that one wound.

Tiohan’s eyes caught his. “Will you … stay with me?”

Nolan nodded, unable to speak. Waves of guilt stabbed him.

“You have done this before, Lord Emissary?” Tiohan whispered, his voice trembling.

Nolan nodded slowly. It was a moment he could never forget.

Chapter Forty

EMERY SHRUGGED OFF HIS SOILED TUNIC, tossing it to the ground on the stones near the base of the castle stairs. Blood coated his bare chest. The gore spread up his neck and mingled with his beard. Red striped his breeches to his knees. He and Nolan emerged into the open courtyard, and all heads turned. For once, Nolan wasn’t the center of attention.

Kael met them from the other side of the courtyard; he stopped and stared.

“Report, General,” Emery said.

Kael cleared his throat. “Jezebelle left by scaling the wall, taking out several of our archers, and jumping down. We’ve seen no sign of her since.”

“She jumped?” Nolan asked, astonished. It was quite a high wall.

“How many dead?” Emery asked.

“Five wall archers. Six Talasian warriors. Three Rol’dan from the meeting room, including Tiohan,” Kael said. “Many more were injured but successfully healed.”

Alec and Rayen approached. Rayen jolted to a stop and her mouth dropped open upon seeing Emery.

“How … um … are you feeling, Emery?” Alec asked. “I mean, Your Majesty.”

Emery forced a smile. “Quite well for a dead man.”

Kat approached next, her eyes widening even larger than the others’. “Your Majesty! Are you hurt?” She continued to stare, shock emanating from her emotions.

“He’s fine,” Kael growled. “Now out with it, Lieutenant.”

“Y-your Majesty,” she said as her eyes dropped, taking in his whole gory appearance. “The Talasian war commander is on the field now. He’s talking with his warriors. Our Perception Rol’dan tried to listen in, but they can’t. It’s like there’s some sort of shield in place. We don’t understand—”

“The war commander?” Emery said.

“Yes, Your Grace. The one who met with you a while ago.”

“Show me.”

They climbed the stairs on the great wall. When they reached the top, they looked out onto the Talasian army. Tosho, whose dead body still lay in the conference room, now seemed to be quite alive and well.

“He’s right there,” Kat said, pointing to what indeed looked like the war commander speaking to his army. And like Kat said, they could hear nothing. The warrior’s mouth moved but not a sound came from his lips, nor could they hear the grumbles and shifting of weapons from the Talasian army.

“That isn’t Tosho,” Maska said.

“Obviously,” Emery said. He turned to Nolan. “Is it the gypsy?”

Nolan stared, seeing only Tosho. Is my power so low I can’t even see her disguise? Crows, she even hid right in front of me in the conference room. He rubbed his temples, his head throbbing. “I-I can’t tell. It would be my guess.”

“She’s enraging them,” Emery said. “I can feel it.”

Nolan felt it too—the forced hate. The typical expressionless faces of the Talasian warriors scowled. The Nass also poured from the army, though they were more transparent than they usually were—another sign of Nolan’s depleted powers. Jezebelle must be filling the army with lies, turning their emotions fouler, to create such a swarm of Nass. All the while, she blocked her voice from Nolan and his friends … somehow. Crows, what was she saying?

Nolan had never tried a sound shield, never even knew he could. He wondered what combination of powers it would take to create one. His brief curiosity faded when he refocused on the situation. The wench had killed the Talasian war commander, and now she was pretending to be him. Why? And did the Talasians even know their queen lived? Crows, how was she able to hold her disguise, enrage the army, and manipulate a shield at the same time? And how in Brim’s light was he going to stop her?

“So, Nolan. What are you going to do?” Kael asked.

“Me? I don’t know.”

Kael snorted. “You can take her, especially with all of your recent training.”

It was a mistake to train. In preparing, Nolan had weakened himself and, in turn, made it potentially fatal to use any powers now. The struggle to free himself from Jezebelle in the throne room had siphoned away most of his remaining Shay powers.

“How are you doing?” Kat touched his arm, her face concerned.

Nolan shook his head. He wasn’t well at all.

“How much do you have left?”

“Not much,” he said, his hands trembling.

Kael’s smug grin faded. “Nolan, are you okay?”

“No,” he said. “My powers are nearly gone.”

“Do you have enough to defeat her?” Kael asked.

“Maybe. If I use it all.” Nolan’s stomach turned. He might have enough, but it would be the last thing he’d ever do.

Kat slugged Kael’s arm. “You stupid twit! If he uses it all, it will kill him.”

Kael’s eyes widened. “Brother, is this true?”

Nolan nodded slowly.

“Well then … we’ll just have to do it,” Emery said.

Nolan gawked. “She’d freeze you before you took two steps.”

“Not necessarily,” Emery added. “I’ve blocked Empathy before. I kept Alcandor from controlling others.”

“Can you keep her out of my mind, as well?” Alec asked.

“You and the general, probably,” Emery said with a nod. “But not more than that.”

“No,” Nolan objected. “You aren’t fighting her.”

Alec crossed his arms over his chest. “You said you couldn’t do it on your own. Let’s do it together.”

“I-I don’t feel right about you three risking your lives.”

“And we’re supposed to stand here and watch you die on your own?” Alec said, frowning. “No thanks.”

“Alec, you can hardly stand!”

“Don’t worry, Brother … ” A cocky sneer pulled on Kael’s lip. “All four of us have already died and come back to life. If death can’t stop us, that gypsy wench doesn’t stand a chance.”

Nolan shook his head. Jezebelle had died as well.

“And what about me?” Kat asked.

“Probably just the general and Alec, Lieutenant,” Emery said. “I can only focus on keeping two free from control. I’m sorry, but they are both better fighters than you are.”

She pursued her lips, biting back a retort.

“It would give me comfort if you would keep an eye on Megan for me. She didn’t take my death well. Can you keep her safe?”

Kat’s eyes darted to Nolan and back to Emery again. She inhaled slowly and released it in a frustrated breath. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will keep her safe.”

With a quick bow, she turned and caught Nolan’s eyes as she passed him. “Stay safe,” she whispered.

Nolan watched her go, knowing that she’d rather stay. But Nolan was thankful Emery had ordered her away.

Alec leaned over the wall. “Crows. We can’t take on the whole nightforsaken army.”

“The Rol’dan will take care of the Talasians … without killing them,” Emery added.

Kael cursed under his breath. “If you say so, Your Majesty.”

“I will speak to the Talasian Army,” a voice said.

Rayen had been so quiet Nolan had almost forgotten she was there. She stared at her people, her once emotionless face filled with concern and love.

“You shouldn’t go out there,” Alec said to her. “Jezebelle already tried to kill you.”

“They need to know I am well.”

“We’ll let them see you, Queen Rayen, but we can’t risk your safety,” Emery said. “As soon as they know, we’ll pull you back behind the safety of our walls.”

***

The great doors opened, pushed by three Strength Rol’dan on each side, their muscles bulging as their eyes blazed red. Through the widening crack, the scene opened before them.

Jezebelle—disguised as Tosho—stood in front of the mass of Talasian warriors, her arms jabbing the air. At first, Nolan didn’t know what she was doing, until he remembered the shield. She was speaking; they just couldn’t hear her.

As the line of warriors saw them, their emotions fluctuated. Nolan glanced at Emery; his eyes blazed violet, his jaw trembling.

As Emery soothed them, the mood of the Talasian army altered, and the production of Nass subsided. Several warriors blinked away the forced emotions and focused on their queen. Confusion, then joy, surged through them at the sight of Rayen.

Jezebelle spun from the army, glaring at Nolan and his friends. Whatever sound shield she held dropped, and the murmurs of the warriors exploded from the silence.

A heavily tattooed warrior stepped forward, meeting them halfway across the field. Jezebelle yelled out to him in Talasian, but he ignored her and continued to his queen.

“The next highest warlord in command,” Maska whispered.

The warrior spoke, punched a fist to his chest, and bowed his head. Rayen touched her chest, and a conversation went back and forth between them.

“What are they saying?” Emery asked.

“She tells him the truth,” Maska said with a grin.

The warlord turned back to the Talasian Army, calling to them in his native tongue. His eyes locked on Jezebelle, and though his face held like a statue, his emotions seethed.

The army turned toward the gypsy, and Nass pulled from them in waves.

“Get the queen back inside,” Emery ordered, his voice urgent. “Close the gates.”

Maska whisked Rayen away, with the warlord guarding her other side. They strode briskly through the gates, and the large doors groaned closed with a reverberating thud.

Jezebelle, still in Tosho’s form, put a hand on her hip. “Now see what you’ve done. You’ve gone and made things all … complicated.”

Before everyone’s eyes, she transformed.

The warriors stepped back, their emotionless masks faltering. Nolan had only gotten a glimpse of her new transformation in the conference room. Now she stood in the open, her deception visible for all to see.

Her muscled skin glowed, and her braided hair shimmered with metallic hues, much like Rikar’s. The power of Brim gushed from her, as if she’d just stepped from the light.

Nolan barely had time to put up his mental guard.

Like a burst of sunlight, energy spilled from her upraised hands, plowing through those in its path. Warriors who’d lunged toward her now froze, their spears gripped in motionless hands.

Nolan whipped his head to his friends. Only Emery had escaped petrifaction.

“Are you all right?” asked Nolan.

Emery leaned on his knees, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Go. I’ll free the others.”

As Nolan summoned Speed, time slowed.

The Talasians not affected by her blast of light swarmed toward her. In Nolan’s Speed enhanced vision, they crept toward Jezebelle, their spears raised, tips pointing at the gypsy. Eyes blazing golden with Speed, she laughed as she slashed and stabbed the warriors two at a time. She spun as she killed.

Nolan sprinted toward her, his Speed Shay pulsing, replaying all he’d learned with Kardos. He’d practiced all week: daggers with daggers; daggers with swords. Pulling out his sword, its Guardian light flaring, he lunged. She whipped her hand out to murder another warrior, but Nolan blocked her weapons with a metallic ring.

She blinked, surprised. Apparently she hadn’t expected to see him moving around.

“What are you doing?” Nolan growled. “These are your people!”

“My people? They sent away my ancestors, leaving me as an outcast in this pathetic, worthless kingdom. I have no people!”

She jabbed at Nolan with her dagger.

Nolan dodged and deflected a second swipe.

With a graceful skip, she ducked behind a tattooed Talasian while still slashing at Nolan.

Blocking and jabbing, Nolan focused his Accuracy so he could avoid striking the warrior she used as an obstacle.

With a hair-curling laugh, she stuck her daggers into the man’s side. Horrified, Nolan watched him fall. Nolan could heal him, but not without being vulnerable to Jezebelle’s assault while he did. He pulled his eyes from the dying man and blocked another attack.

She darted between the bronze-skinned warriors, using them as shields. Nolan leapt back, cursing, and exchanged his sword for daggers. The sword was too long; he didn’t want to kill by mistake.

“Well! Look at you!” she squealed with delight. “You’ve got two, just like me!”

Laughter bubbled from her chest as she whirled, braids flying around her like a giant spider. Looking over her shoulder with a wink, she rushed into the army’s ranks.

Nolan stared, watching her dart in and out. She’s running away? Then he saw her trail: a path of injured. Sides stabbed. Throats slit. Nolan cursed and ran. He sent a small wave of Healing into each warrior he passed.

Glancing back at his friends, Emery had his hand on Kael, working on freeing him from Jezebelle’s mental hold. Nolan growled in frustration—Emery was moving so nightforsaken slow. This battle seemed to go on forever; in reality, only seconds had passed.

Nolan scanned the crowd and saw Jezebelle duck behind another grouping of warriors. He ran after her, healing more injured. “Jezebelle!”

Her laughter carried over the crowd.

Nolan’s blood pulsed, his eyes darting, searching. The gates of Faylinn groaned open. Hopefully, the Speed Rol’dan would soon burst through the gates and assist him. He couldn’t keep this up all on his own.

Like a synchronized dance, she whirled, snatched a spear from a warrior’s hand, and ran straight toward Nolan’s friends. Nolan sucked in a breath as his heart stopped cold.

Summoning everything he had left, he pushed his Empathy, palms toward his frozen comrades. He plowed a path of light, freeing his friends from her mental hold.

Nolan’s head swam. He staggered, his vision tunneling.

Too much.

Too weak.

An arm caught him, slowing him as he fell.

The sounds of battle rang, steel upon steel. Kael yelled a curse from the crowd. Unfrozen, Kael most likely fought Jezebelle.

“You’ve used too much power, my son,” a voice said.

Nolan looked up, staring into Rikar’s concerned face. Nolan lay in the grass, propped up by Rikar’s arm. Rikar picked up Nolan’s dagger and used it to slash his palm.

“Hold still,” Rikar said and gave him a weak smile. He held his hand in front of Nolan’s mouth, and Guardian light flowed from the wound.

Nolan’s back arched as light leaked into him, pulling from Rikar’s injured palm and drifting up his nose, into his mouth, clearing his mind. Nolan tried to speak.

“Do not talk. Listen,” Rikar said. “I searched for the gypsy’s mother but was unable to find anything of her past. I let the stones call to me and guide me to Jezebelle, so I could confront her directly.

“When I found her, I came upon a conflict between her and the Guardians. She was locking them in Alcandor’s cage. She used humans as bait to force them into confinement; she threatened to slice their throats unless they obeyed.

“She took the cage to a cave near Caldalk, where they are still, as far as I know. I believe she intends to use them to resurrect her disgusting sideshow again. I tried to free them, but could not without the key.”

Nolan nodded, unable to speak as Rikar’s light continued to pour into him. No wonder the Guardians hadn’t returned. They were imprisoned.

Rikar swayed, then righted himself. “The gypsy carries the key, as well as the stones.”

Nolan pulled his eyes from Rikar and scanned the battle. Jezebelle sliced another pair of warriors before diving back to block Kael and Alec. They were working together against the gypsy. Even though she held all the powers, she struggled against the two best swordsmen in Adamah. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but a leather pouch—Nolan’s pouch—hung from her shoulder.

The light around Rikar dimmed, his cheeks hollow. Guardian light pulsed into Nolan in rhythm with the beating of Rikar’s heart. The Guardian’s light faded. He was giving too much, too quickly. Nolan tried to pull away, but the transference of the power immobilized him.

“I am so sorry for everything. For your mother,” Rikar said. “So sorry for what I have done.” He looked down at Nolan, dark, metallic hair spilling on either side of his face.

The sounds of battle still swelled, but it drifted in Nolan’s background. After all this time, he finally had a father who cared for him, who was there for him. Rikar had saved him so many times now that Nolan had lost count. He’d made mistakes, yes. But didn’t everyone? His human father had never sacrificed himself like this Guardian had. Rikar was ten times the father Belen was.

The corner of Rikar’s mouth quirked into a smile, then it abruptly contorted in pain.

Jezebelle yanked daggers from Rikar’s sides. She crossed the blades in front of the Guardian. In one quick yank, she sliced open his throat.

“No!” Nolan yelled.

Silver blood and light poured from the deep gouge, the light floating in the air like a cloud. Nolan’s body froze as the light met him, and the Guardian power rushed into him like water filling a vase. Rikar met Nolan’s eyes, then the light in his eyes faded to black. He crumpled to the ground.

Nolan quivered; he’d never taken on so much power so quickly. His fatigue and weakness fell from him, and he jumped up, glaring at Jezebelle.

She blinked, also taking in the Guardian’s power. For a long second, they stared at each other, astonished.

“You killed our father!” Nolan spat between clenched teeth.

She stared at him, confused. Then disgust dripped over her emotions. “He was not my father.”

Nolan screamed as he dove toward her, grabbing his sword from the ground. The Guardian steel in the blade flashed to light like the sun.

Jezebelle and Nolan both flinched, blinded. Nolan flared some Healing, blinking away the spots before his vision. Alec and Kael had been coming toward them, but they’d stopped, flinging their arms protectively over their faces.

Nolan lunged toward Jezebelle, his light-filled sword raised. With a dagger in each hand, she dove in past his blade.

They sliced and jabbed, then healed their wounds and attacked again.

Nolan cut across her chest, through the strap of his bag. It fell before she realized what he’d done. He snatched it mid-fall and flung up his arm to protect his throat. Pain erupted, but he healed it closed.

“No!” Jezebelle screamed, and her slashing became more intense.

Nolan shoved the bag under his arm. He wouldn’t let her have the stones again.

Alec and Kael, who’d been impaired by the bright light, staggered toward them to join the battle.

Jezebelle cursed, swinging to keep all three of them away. Finally, with a scream of frustration, she raced toward the woods.

Alec dove after her, but Kael caught his arm. “Wait! She’ll use the woods to her advantage. She can hide and stab you in the back.”

Alec tensed, stubborn determination flaring from his emotions. He relaxed, staggering as he did. The circles under Alec’s eyes seemed darker than before and his body trembled.

Nolan reached into the bag, feeling the pulse of Speed. He pulled out the stone and placed it in Alec’s palm.

Alec inhaled sharply and breathed a long sigh as his tension and fatigue ebbed away. The dark rings were gone, and color returned to his face. “Thanks”

Nolan nodded and then flared Perception, focusing on the woods. His vision and hearing heightened, but he couldn’t detect any sign of Jezebelle. Where had she gone?

“Formation,” Kael ordered in his typical general flair.

Back to back, the three formed into a triangle, watching, waiting for Jezebelle’s return.

“Where’s Emery?” Nolan asked.

Their bodies tensed in response. Nolan held his breath, waiting for a reply.

After a tense silence, Kael spoke. “The wench killed him again.”

Nolan’s defensive stance fell. He spun around, scanning the field to the gates, where Emery had last stood. On the ground lay a body, a spear sticking up in the air. She killed Emery twice in one day?

“Nolan, wait!” Kael snapped. “She could come back.”

Nolan’s vision tunneled. Like a moth to a campfire, he went to Emery. He hardly realized his feet were cutting the distance across the field. Around him, the sound of dying Talasians filled his ears. He couldn’t even think about them right now.

When he reached Emery, he dropped to one knee. Jezebelle had impaled him under his chin and through his skull.

Rol’dan finally poured from the open gates. Healers, archers, and Speed Rol’dan with their swords raised. Nolan hoped she’d come back. He squeezed his sword, and the light intensified in the blade.

He wouldn’t have to wait too long. Cries rang out from inside the walls of Faylinn.

Chapter Forty-One

MEGAN GRIPPED KAT’S HAND so hard her fingers had gone numb. They stared out the window, mesmerized by the horrible sight before them.

Together, they had climbed high in the castle to find a room to overlook the stone walls. From the window, they gawked as they watched the battle unfold.

They’d seen Rayen whisked back into Faylinn, and the doors close to protect her.

Then they’d watched in morbid fascination as the war commander transformed. Almost as soon as Jezebelle had completed her change, she’d thrown light from her hands, freezing everyone in its path.

After that, Megan didn’t know what was happening. She was incapable of seeing Jezebelle and Nolan battle with Speed. Megan held her breath, waiting for Kat to give her updates. But her friend only stared, her eyes glowing with golden light, and her shoulders tense in anticipation.

All the while, Emery, her love, worked to free Alec and Kael.

The whole encounter lasted only breaths, long enough for Megan to feel weak with tension. Then, with Emery’s help, Alec and Kael jumped into the fight.

Once again, Megan could see nothing.

Faint blurs.

Talasian warriors fell dead or thrashed on the ground.

What was happening? Brim’s light, she could hardly watch the slaughter!

As soon as she considered turning away, the gypsy appeared and rammed a spear through Emery’s head.

Megan screamed and dove toward the window; hands dragged her back into the room.

Kat pulled her into her arms, holding her, squeezing her. Megan thrashed, her body fighting Kat without her own effort.

Kat gasped as blinding light flashed through the window.

“W-what was that?” Megan asked, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Oh, my … Oh no,” Kat moaned. “She just killed a Guardian.”

A Guardian? Who? Greer? Sanawen? Megan cried more, her body relaxing as grief took over. It couldn’t be true. Not Emery. Not again!

Kat released her and staggered back to the window, her face blank with shock and her fingers gripping the frame. “Crows, she’s gone.”

“Gone?” Megan whispered. “They killed her?”

“No.” Kat shook her head. “She’s just gone.”

“I’m not gone,” cooed a sickly sweet voice. “I just gave them the slip.”

Slowly, Kat and Megan turned. Jezebelle leaned against the door’s frame, her arms crossed over her chest.

Megan sucked in a breath. She was tall beyond normal height, power emanating from her skin—which glowed faintly with Guardian light.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Jezebelle said. “But now that everyone is busy outside … Can you tell me where you keep prisoners?” Her eyes shifted to Kat, and her full lips spread into a wide grin. “Oh!” She bubbled with laughter. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Kat slid out her sword and stepped between the gypsy and Megan. “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

“Her?” Jezebelle said as she cocked her head. “Not her, my feisty little wench. You.”

With the blur of Speed, a new battle began. Megan staggered back, unable to assess the fight. After only seconds, it was done and Kat lay on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from the nose.

A scream stuck in Megan’s throat.

“Oh, calm down. She’s fine,” Jezebelle said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I was going to kill her. She did murder me, after all.” She held both hands out, one on each side of her, as if modeling a scale. “Death for a death. It’s a fair trade. However, with current circumstances, she’d serve me better alive.” Her lips pulled into a smile. “For now.”

Jezebelle’s eyes began to glow red with Strength. With one hand, she tossed Kat’s limp body over her shoulder. “I almost forgot,” she said. “Where do you keep prisoners? A tower? Or do you have a dungeon?”

“Go to Darkness!” Megan spat.

“Darkness, eh?” Jezebelle nodded. “So I suppose that means a dungeon?”

Megan shook, from both fear and emotional exhaustion.

Jezebelle smiled sweetly. “Sorry about your husband … again. It’s nothing personal. I just had to put things in their proper place.” She motioned toward Megan’s stomach. “And good luck with the baby.” Her eyes flashed golden, and she spun and disappeared with Kat.

Megan stared at the empty door, and her legs went limp. She staggered and slid down the wall. Hands shaking, she placed her head in her hands, and sobs took over. She had just gotten Emery back, and he’d died again? And poor, old Tiohan. He’d given his life for Emery. For what? He was a good man, one of the few truly kind Rol’dan. Would another sacrifice his life for Emery again?

Megan sobbed. How could she even think such a thing, hoping someone else would die to save him? And then there was the Guardian, whomever it was. Megan mourned. The Guardians were her friends.

She sniffed and raised her head. Kat was still alive, at least for now. She could find someone and get her help. Megan pushed up on trembling legs and staggered through the door and into the quiet hall. Step by step, she descended the stairs.

Chapter Forty-Two

ALEC, KAEL, AND NOLAN raced inside, following Jezebelle’s path of desolation: a murdered Healer, a dying Accuracy soldier, a crying servant in the hall.

Nolan healed the poor woman, and he scanned the hall in each direction.

“Where’d she go?” Alec asked.

Pulling on his Perception, the sounds of the castle came into focus. The kitchen staff hid in the storage room. Soldiers were running the halls. He pulled back and focused on Alec and Kael. “I’m not sure. Maybe she’s gone by now.”

Alec pulled out his sword. “I’ll check on Rayen.”

“Good idea,” Nolan said with a nod. “Kael, go outside and search for her there.”

Kael hesitated. “What about you?”

Nolan flared his Perception. “I’m going hunting.”

The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, also the smells of sweat and fear. He yanked back, gagging on the enhanced scents. Taking a slow breath, he tuned in again. Finally, after fishing through the putrid smells, he found what he’d been searching for: the perfume he’d smelled in the tent at the gypsy camp, a combination of lavender and cinnamon.

Nolan growled. The floral aroma permeated the castle; it would be hard to tell which way she went.

He pulled back on his Shays and examined the situation like a normal man would. It was then when he caught sight of something at the far end of the hall. Jogging toward it, he stopped short as he came upon a foot protruding from around the corner. Slowly, he followed the foot and found the body of another Rol’dan.

Sliding out his sword, he advanced.

He crept by the dead soldier and turned at another corridor, this one with red-painted walls. Nolan didn’t normally visit this side of the castle; most of the rooms and dining areas were on the east side.

This was the darker portion of Faylinn castle. Storage areas. The dungeon. He turned again and found three more dead Rol’dan, warm blood still flowing from necks sliced halfway through.

He took off, not worrying about stealth. After passing a pair of dead servants, he turned toward the dungeon. On either side of the dungeon entrance, two dying guards thrashed. Nolan stopped, surging Healing through them to staunch the flow of blood. Once he knew they’d live, he opened the door.

A Rol’dan guard burst by him from the dungeon, giving Nolan a Strength-enhanced shove before running away.

Nolan drew his attention back to the dungeon, listening. He hadn’t been down here for quite some time, not since they’d locked Alcandor away.

With a deep breath, Nolan drew on his Perception. Along with the stench of the dungeon, Jezebelle’s perfume wafted from below. He summoned all his powers, readying himself for an attack. And carefully, he descended the stairs.

After only a few steps, a voice echoed from the dungeon’s depths. “I know you’re there,” said the smooth voice of Jezebelle. “No sense sneaking about.”

Nolan slid his sword back into place and continued down. Listening. Waiting for an attack. But the only sounds he heard were the rodents scurrying across the stones.

Unlike the dungeon tower in Alton, this one descended into stone. Pounded out from the natural rocks, it had rough edges rather than smooth, formed bricks. Nolan turned a corner, and a trio of cells came into view.

Two stood empty.

In the third, Captain Ekon’s body was stretched between chains, his feet unsupported and his head resting against his chest. Dark moisture stained the front of his red tunic, and a puddle formed around his feet. Nolan tuned in his Perception. No heartbeat. No breath. The scent of blood reeked on him.

Is that why Jezebelle had come? She’d heard the stories of Ekon? The man treated Talasians horribly. Had he slighted her or abused her at some time? Nolan wouldn’t be surprised if he had. It would make sense for Jezebelle to want retribution.

He continued through the narrow passage to the deepest and strongest cells. It was narrower than he remembered. He stopped and gasped, the memory of his confinement with Jezebelle coming to head. After a few seconds of catching his breath, he squared his shoulders and continued on.

As he turned the corner, two things caught his eyes simultaneously: Alcandor’s empty cell and Jezebelle pressing a knife to Kat’s throat.

Kat whimpered as Jezebelle pushed the knife, and a thin trail of blood dripped down to her chest.

“Nolan! I didn’t—” Kat sucked in a breath, and the trickle of blood increased.

Kat? How in the Darkness did she get Kat? Her face was bruised and her nose was crusted in dried blood. Nolan ground his teeth.

“Where are the stones?” Jezebelle crooned.

“Let. Her. Go.” His arms trembled. How did she get Kat?

“Why would I do that?” Jezebelle asked as if Nolan were stupid.

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

She laughed. “If you try, I’ll kill her.”

Nolan clenched his fists. His eyes darted to Alcandor’s empty cell, and a tremor of caution fell on him. “Where’s Alcandor?”

“Oh, him? I let him go. Didn’t you see him? He probably walked right past you.”

Nolan’s mind swirled. How could he? Even veiled, Nolan saw a Guardian’s disguise. When his Shays were low, Jezebelle had tricked him. But now, he was full of Guardian power.

She removed the dagger from Kat’s throat. “Oh, Emissary … or Nolan? She called you Nolan, right? That Guardian power we inhaled did something to our minds. Messed with our ability to see Guardians.” She motioned toward Ekon’s cage. “Alcandor killed him before he left … did something with him too.”

Dread swelled. He’d taken Ekon’s Shay, turned the sorry sap into a Dor’Jan. Now Alcandor had Strength and would probably take more lives and more Shays. The safety of night they’d grown accustomed to the last few months was no more, especially if Alcandor created more of the abominations.

“Now,” Jezebelle said, “what were we talking about? Oh, yes. The stones.” She stroked Kat’s hair and placed the dagger back on her throat. “She killed me back at camp. I figured that a life for a life would be fair.” Her smile widened. “However, when I watched you both this afternoon, sitting on the rock, saying sweet things to each other … ” She shrugged one shoulder. “I figured this little minx would be good persuasion. Now give me the stones.”

Nolan started. She’d been spying on them? He trembled, rage pulsing from him. He’d never known anyone so selfish, so uncaring for human life, apart from Alcandor. Now even he was free.

“Why? Why free him?”

“I have my reasons. And I really need to get going. So, Nolan … give them to me.”

Kat’s eyes met his, terror leaking from her emotions. Nolan searched the possibilities. If he threw a spike, as soon as it left his hand, it would slow for Jezebelle. He could lunge with his sword, but not before she’d slit Kat’s throat. And if she did, could Nolan heal Kat and fight the gypsy wench at the same time?

Jezebelle prodded his mind, but Nolan had already fortified it.

She released a dramatic sigh. “Well?”

Nolan pulled the bag over his head and held it out to Jezebelle.

“No, Nolan!” Kat said. Jezebelle squeezed her throat, cutting off her words.

Jezebelle searched Nolan’s face, her eyes radiating violet light. “Why are you hiding your thoughts?”

“You froze me the last time I kept it open.”

“True.” She nodded. “But that was before we were friends.”

Friends? She had a strange idea of what made a friend. His rage swelled, but he kept it off his face. “Let her go, and the stones are yours.”

Jezebelle eyed Kat and then the stones. She licked her lips, and a flicker of desire pulsed through her. Nolan shook the bag, much like tempting a cat with a string. Suddenly, she took the bait.

Nolan spun, whipping the bag from Jezebelle’s grasp. In the same movement, he dove toward Kat, pushed her into Alcandor’s cell, and slammed the door.

Jezebelle sliced the air, catching Nolan across the arm. Fiery pain erupted, but Nolan quickly healed it closed.

He pulled out his own set of daggers; the dungeon was too tight to use his sword. He parried and swiped at her. She dodged, rage spilling across her face.

“Nolan!” Kat yelled from the cell.

He ignored her; she’d be a liability more than a help.

Steel upon steel, the daggers bit and slashed. Nolan dodged and blocked with his arm, flaring his Strength to reinforce his flesh. Jezebelle growled as Nolan returned the attacks. She was good with her knives—not as good as Kardos, but she also had all the Shay powers to help.

Her mental guard weakened as anger spilled from her. Nolan flared his Empathy, jabbing her mind, but she blocked his mental blow.

“Join me,” she said.

“Why?” Nolan asked.

They locked blades, arms bent, faces inches from each other.

A slow smile spread across Jezebelle’s face. “You can help me and my father, Alcandor.”

Nolan’s mental guard fell. Like a viper, Jezebelle struck with her mind. Nolan gasped, his body freezing in place. He pulled against Jezebelle’s hold, but it was solid.

Nolan swelled his Empathy, trying to free himself, but she pushed against his mind, holding him in place. He couldn’t do anything but stand there … and die.

She clicked her tongue and slid an arm around Nolan’s shoulders. “Who said I was going to kill you?”

Nolan’s heart thundered in his ears.

Jezebelle slid the bag from Nolan’s shoulder and slung it over her own. “I do wish we could be on the same side. But of course, Father hates you. If you’d join us, he’d most likely kill you anyway—after he regains his powers.”

She ran a hand through his hair, and Nolan’s stomach turned in revulsion.

“The other women at the brothel told me the king stopped to see my mother, that Alcandor was my father.” She snorted. “They called me royalty. I never believed them. Thought they were taunting me. That is, until this happened.” She made a downward motion over her body. “Who else had all the powers but Alcandor? The rumors had to be true. So I came here to find out for myself. And if he was my father, I’d free him.” She eyed Nolan. “I’d thought that you were my brother, but then you called that Guardian father … after I slit his throat.”

“Get away from him!” Kat said from her cage.

Jezebelle’s head whipped toward her, annoyance and frustration leaking from her emotions. “When I am done here, I’ll let you out.” She slipped her hand into her waistband and pulled out a key. “Then we can have a talk.”

She leaned into Nolan, her lips nearly brushing his. “If we are not siblings, we could be something more. We’d be the perfect match.”

“Go to the Darkness!”

She frowned and put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Oh. I guess I’ll have to kill you instead.” She glanced over at Kat’s cage. “Then I’ll kill her … Your people will still fall. In the end, Father and I win.”

Kat gripped the bars, anxiousness spilling from her. Nolan’s vision tunneled, his pounding heart increasing in strength and pace. If he died, she would too. He wouldn’t let that happen.

A scream trapped in Nolan’s throat as Jezebelle’s blades pierced him. Whatever control he had over his mind faded, focusing on the pain.

“Nolan!” Kat yelled.

Jezebelle’s eyes blazed violet, and then hints of red formed in her irises as she used her Strength to force her blades in.

Nolan’s Healing responded, trying to seal the wound. His breath left as the blade cut into his lungs, suffocating him.

Kat screamed his name. Then suddenly, Jezebelle jerked back, and her Empathy dropped away.

Nolan’s mind jerked free. He yanked out the daggers, his Healing surging to life. He raised his Empathy just as Jezebelle’s mind slammed into his.

She turned, glaring at Kat. A throwing spike protruded from Jezebelle’s lower back. Not a killing blow, but a distracting one. Kat stood inside the cell with another spike in her hand.

“You. Little. Witch!” Jezebelle wailed.

Kat whipped out her sword and met Nolan’s eyes.

In a swift movement, he grabbed Jezebelle, picked her feet from the ground, and slammed her against the bars to Kat’s cage.

Jezebelle screamed as Kat’s sword rammed through her. And before she could pry free, Nolan flared his Strength and wrapped the blade around her, embedding the metal within.

For a final measure, he pushed Jezebelle’s daggers into her, exactly where she’d pierced him. Nolan flared his Empathy, jamming into her mind, freezing her face in a silent yell.

His stomach turned. How could he do such a thing? She was a living being, for Brim’s sake. Fear pulsed from her, seeping from her like the trails of red running down her sides. Could he stand there, holding her in place while she died?

“Please,” her mind begged.

Nolan wanted to block her, but he couldn’t, not without letting her go. Maybe she’d change? Maybe she’d become good. But he’d seen her mind and all her hatred for the people of Adamah. Years of racial taunts and a life of being shunned as an outcast—a useless scum to society—had hardened her. She wouldn’t turn from her plans. She would destroy Adamah the first chance she was given. She was fueled by revenge.

“I’ll stop. I’ll change.”

Nolan flinched, her pleas biting into him. He could lock her up. But her powers couldn’t be taken from her like Alcandor’s had been. There would be no way to keep her confined. Even with the Guardian cage, she controlled minds horribly well. It would only be a matter of time before she’d twist some unsuspecting fool’s mind and escape. And when she was free, the destruction would begin again.

There was no other choice.

Nolan stepped from the gypsy, and her mind still pleaded. He shook his head but didn’t break contact. It took all his concentration to keep her under his control.

Like she’d done to him.

Like Alcandor had done to so many others.

I am no better than them.

A green light shone around her wounds—her body’s pathetic efforts to save her. But her terror and anger faded as her consciousness drifted away.

“Help me … ”

Her eyes closed.

Her heart slowed … thudded three times … then stopped.

With one final thud of her heart, she exhaled. A mist of white Guardian light leaked from her wounds, spiraled upward, and hit Nolan full in the chest.

Nolan gasped, taking in more light than he’d thought possible. Every Guardian power in him swelled, pushing as if wanting to burst from him. The power Jezebelle had stolen from Rikar when she’d murdered him transferred to Nolan. Limbs shaking, he closed his eyes, and the entirety of Rikar’s Guardian power absorbed into his arms, his legs, his every muscle. When the transfer had finished, he relaxed, stumbling. Someone steadied his arm.

He opened his eyes. “Emery?”

“Are you okay?” Emery asked, his eyes scanning Nolan’s gory appearance. He hesitated, staring at Nolan’s eyes the longest. Why was he looking at him so strangely?

Blood completely covered Emery, from his throat to his waist. Then Nolan noticed the stone of Empathy in Emery’s hand. When had he arrived in the dungeon? How long had he stood there?

It must not have been too long, for Vikas was just opening the cell for Kat.

She rushed over, throwing herself into Nolan’s arms.

“I’m okay.” Nolan wrapped his arms around her, then put her at arm’s length. The cut on her neck still bled. He touched her cheek, and his Healing swelled. She blinked and then met his eyes as the wound closed.

“Nolan,” she said, breathless. “Your eyes. White, like a Guardian.”

White eyes? He blinked, but he didn’t see differently. The Guardian power thrummed inside him, pulsing. He felt strange.

“The gypsy is dead,” Vikas said. A group of Strength Rol’dan were attempting to dislodge the blade from her body.

“Nolan?” Emery asked. “Where’s Alcandor?”

“The gypsy let him go.”

Talking from the soldiers stilled, all eyes staring at Nolan.

Nolan motioned to Ekon’s cell. “He took Ekon before he left.”

Emery cursed. “Keep his cell locked. Oh, for Brim’s sake. If Alcandor is loose, any of the dead outside could be a Dor’Jan. We have no way to tell until night falls. I suppose we can’t trust any of the dead. We’ll have to bring them all down here and lock them up. At least until we know if they were killed in the fight or by Alcandor’s hand.”

Emery spoke to some soldiers, giving them instructions in regard to the dead.

Nolan watched him, thinking about him dying a second time. Wondering who had the honor to sacrifice themselves this time. “Emery?” Nolan said, almost hating to ask the question. “Who … who healed you?”

His head dropped, and pain swelled from him so intensely, it made Nolan feel sick. Nolan pressed him with Empathy, trying to find out, but Emery’s mind was tightly closed.

“Emery?” Nolan asked again.

Maska touched Nolan’s arm. “It was Megan. She healed him before we could stop her.”

Chapter Forty-Three

MEGAN STUDIED HER REFLECTION in the mirror. It was a strange contraption; most couldn’t afford such a luxury. It was like staring at a replica, a twin. Except this girl wore a dress far beyond her expectations. She wore a wedding dress made for a queen.

Her brother and friends had come all the way from the village. The field outside the castle was packed with travelers—all coming to see the big celebration. The kitchen staff had worked for weeks preparing for the event. And even though they’d wed months ago, she was finally getting the wedding she wanted. She should be happy, shouldn’t she? Sorrow filled her instead.

She turned, watching the intricate fabric swoosh around her legs. Placing her hand on her stomach, guilt and sadness washed over her.

Her baby was gone.

Killed by her impulsive decision.

When she’d emerged outside to get help for Kat, she’d dove toward Emery instead. The others were all too distracted to stop her. But instead of exchanging her own life, as she’d intended, it had taken her baby’s instead.

Some called it a miracle—the ones who didn’t know about the baby. Megan, however, knew the sickening truth. She’d killed her child.

He’d been so very small. Formed fingers and toes on tiny arms and legs. Labor started immediately after Emery’s resurrection, and her perfectly formed baby came out with a horrid wound through his tiny head.

She turned from the mirror. Her heart ached too much. She hadn’t wanted the baby, but now that he was gone, she mourned. A son she’d never get to know.

Glancing at the mirror, Emery stood in the reflection. He wore a blue doublet over a white silk shirt and stood at the door. She sucked in a breath. He was so handsome. Why had he come to see her now?

They’d barely spoken since the incident. He’d been so angry. But what else could she have done? While everyone was in chaos, she did what she could. She’d sacrificed herself for the one she couldn’t live without. Except, it hadn’t gone as she’d planned.

“You are lovely,” Emery finally said.

Her eyes flicked to his, and his mouth rose in a hesitant smile.

“You look good too.” She grasped her hands together, wringing them in the folds of her skirts.

“Your brother is here.”

She released a shaky breath. “Yes. Kat told me.”

“He seems happy for us, if that makes you feel any better.”

It did. She always wanted Flann’s approval.

Emery turned, speaking in low tones to someone in the hall. Finally, he looked down each length of the corridor before shutting the door. His brown eyes met hers. “We need to talk.”

She shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep from shaking. “What is there to talk about?”

“About what you did.”

She pressed her mouth into a line. It was her choice, not his. She could save whomever she wanted.

In three long strides, he closed the space between them. He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing harder than he’d ever done before.

“For the love of Brim, Meg,” Emery said, his voice trembling. “Don’t ever sacrifice yourself for me again.”

She stared at him. “Don’t save you? Emery, I can scarcely breathe without you.”

“When I woke, with you lying there, gripping yourself while you bled all over the grass … ” His jaw tensed. “Meg, even that … I swear, if you ever do it again, I will throw myself off a cliff and die anyway.”

She started. “B-but, you’re the king. You can’t kill yourself.”

“I promise you this: If you ever sacrifice yourself for me again, I will make sure to kill myself in a place so remote, nobody will find me. By the time they do, my corpse will be too rotten to heal.”

The way he stared at her, she believed him. She swallowed. He didn’t give her much choice. “But if you die again, they’ll heal you … someone would.”

“One of my soldiers? I would get over it … eventually. They’d die believing they were serving their land. They’d die as a soldier. That’s what soldiers do. But you …” He shook his head. “I would never get over it. Your life means more to me than my own.” He released her, and his hands fell limply to his sides. “I know you’re hurting, but the loss of your child brings up a question, one we need to discuss now.”

“Now?” Her heartbeat quickened. “What’s that?”

“With the child gone, you don’t have to marry me. We can call this whole thing off.”

“Call it off?” Her mouth dropped open. “But, Emery, we’re already married.”

“Technically, yes. But since we haven’t … you know … we could easily annul it. You’d be free to go.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. After all these years loving him, and him loving her, he’d want to throw it away?

“You could find someone else, have a real marriage.”

She grabbed his hands, but he slipped them away.

“Emery. Just because we haven’t done some things yet—”

“There won’t be a ‘yet’ Meg. I told you before. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because you’re too damaged?”

He flinched but didn’t respond.

“Emery, that isn’t an excuse for me. Alcandor used me too.”

“It isn’t the same, Megan.”

“I know you endured it longer than I did,” Megan said. “But you’ve had years to recover. Mine was recent.” She shuddered as the memories flashed through her mind. “We can heal together.”

She could see his frustration and annoyance building, even more so than usual. She shouldn’t press him so soon after their silence, but her sorrow from losing Emery—twice—and now the baby, made all of her feelings emerge in a rush. She kept rambling, comparing their abuse, hoping if she downplayed her own she could change his mind. Finally, Emery’s face hardened. He’d had enough, but she pressed on.

“Surely, Emery. If I can get past it this soon, you can—”

“I’ve never been with a woman!” Emery blinked, as if surprised he’d said it out loud.

Megan stared at him, stunned. Alcandor had abused her, then controlled Maska to do the same. Like puppets in a demented show, he’d watch them for his pleasure. It had been only one night and a long day, but she figured it happened that way for all his victims. She tried to wrap her brain around what Emery was telling her but didn’t understand.

“You never … ” She swallowed. “Alcandor watches.”

“Usually. But never with me. He always kept me for himself.”

Emery wouldn’t meet her eyes, and a single tear slid down his cheek. It traced a path and disappeared into his beard. She knew he hurt but had never realized how much.

She raised her trembling hand and pulled Emery’s face toward hers. He resisted at first, then reluctantly yielded to her. His eyes followed last, avoiding her until he could no longer do so.

So much pain. She just wanted to take it all away.

“Avoiding this won’t help you,” Megan whispered. “We can’t let this ruin the rest of our lives; it will only make Alcandor win.”

He opened his mouth to protest but closed it, pressing it into a thin line. He lowered his face again.

“Emery,” she said. “I need you.”

“I don’t think I can, Megan,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Maybe not now,” she said, “but I’ll help you get past this. I’ll wait for you until you are ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

What if he never could? She hadn’t considered it before. But in all honesty, she’d rather have a celibate life with him than a passionate life with anyone else. Even so, she wouldn’t give up hope. They’d both been used. They deserved to feel love. She would make sure they both got past this, even if it took years.

She smiled. “You will. We both will.”

“How?” Emery said, his voice weak, defeated.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

Reluctantly, he obeyed.

“Sense me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m scared too. Just focus on me, not on your own fears. Focus on me, and soothe me. And then … ” She swallowed, forcing the next words. “Then I’ll help you.”

Emery stared at her, eyes searching. He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Meg.”

Before he uttered another excuse, she pulled his lips to hers.

At first, she kissed stone. She didn’t let go, even as her hands trembled. What am I doing? Am I pushing too hard again? Finally, something changed, and Emery’s familiar Empathy touched her mind. Her fear melted away.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing into him. She kissed him deeper, not just for herself this time, but for Emery, who hurt far more than she ever had. Before, she’d been selfish, only caring what Emery could give her. This wasn’t about her anymore. It was for him. He’d been hurt, used, abused. Now he would know love.

His hand tentatively came up, long fingers trailing the side of her neck. She inhaled as he found a sensitive spot, causing her heart to race. His Empathy prodded, and he went back to the place, knowing exactly how and where to touch her again. Her fingers laced through and dislodged his perfectly arranged hair. They broke apart, their breathing labored, their faces flushed.

He blinked, still breathing heavily. His lips twitched into a small grin. “What was that?”

“That, my husband, was a real kiss.”

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he held out a hand, stopping her. Her joy deflated.

“Oh, Meg,” he said, his voice lighter than before. “It’s not that. It’s just … ” His face flushed. “Oh, crows, Meg. There’s a crowd waiting for us. The whole field is full of people, dukes, and nobles from every city and town. The Rol’dan are ready to present us to everyone. Your family. Our friends. It’s our wedding day.”

She covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. She’d been so worried he’d pushed back again, that the thought of everyone waiting for them hadn’t even crossed her mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tensed, going back to his old self. “Let them wait.”

His face hardened, ready for an objection, but then a contemplative expression passed over his face. He released a long sigh, his eyes glowing violet. Her nervous tension melted from her shoulders, her arms, her spine.

“I can’t make promises,” Emery said. “And I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll try. In small steps.”

“Small steps,” she agreed.

He increased his Empathy and, as shy as a young school boy, he leaned in and gently kissed her.

Chapter Forty-Four

THE INNER WARD TO FAYLINN had been cleared and lined with hundreds of cloth-covered chairs. Every noble in the kingdom had come to wish the king and his bride good fortunes. Nolan scanned the crowd and smiled. After everything they’d endured the last several months, this day was a long time in coming.

On the top of the landing, Greer and the other Guardians stood, gleaming with white light. A pang of sadness thrummed inside Nolan’s chest. Rikar should have been standing there with them.

Several hours after Rikar’s death, the Guardian’s body had faded, disappearing much like a dying campfire. Only silvery ashes covered the grass where his blood had spilled and his body had lain.

Throughout the month, the white light in Nolan’s eyes had faded—they were normal blue now, which meant he’d used the last of his father’s power. Now nothing remained of Rikar.

When Rikar had died, Nolan was determined not to be upset about a father he’d never known. However, as the days and weeks passed, he allowed himself to grieve. Kat had told him that no matter how good or bad a father he was, no matter how long he’d known him, he was his father. The blood of his Guardian father ran through his veins; he was, and always would be, a part of Nolan. She was right. Nolan had a right to be sad.

Nolan took a deep breath, tucking his grief away. Today wasn’t a day to mourn; it was a day to celebrate … he hoped.

Nolan glanced toward the entrance, but he still hadn’t seen any sign of Emery or Megan. At that moment, Emery was offering her a chance to get out of their marriage. Nolan assumed Megan would still want to go through with it; she loved Emery too much to let him squirm away. But honestly, Nolan didn’t understand women all that much.

They were strange creatures, prone to doing erratic things. He glanced over at Kat as she mingled with some other soldiers. She flashed him an amazing smile. He smiled back. Once the wedding was done, he hoped they could spend more time alone.

A hand slapped him on the shoulder. Nolan turned, and a large man stood next to him. His eyes crinkled in a smile, and a freshly combed beard hung down a large, barreled chest.

“Hakan!”

Nolan was about to shake his hand, but the Higherlander gripped him in a hard hug while slapping him robustly on the back.

“How are you, lad?” Hakan said, breaking off the embrace.

“Good, good,” Nolan answered, grinning. “How long have you been here?”

“An hour or so.” He motioned toward a man walking to them. Simple clothes. Dark red hair. Serious expression. Flann’s eyes dropped, taking in Nolan’s half-Guardian form. They hadn’t seen each other since Nolan had transformed.

“They told me what happened to you, but I didn’t expect this. I wouldn’t even recognize you if I didn’t know.”

Nolan cleared his throat, changing the subject. “So are you ready for this?”

“The wedding? Crows, no.”

“No?” Hakan said. “The lass has been in love with him for years.”

Flann’s eyes jerked to Hakan. “How’d you know?”

Hakan chuckled. “Doesn’t take Empathy to figure that one out.”

Flann released a long sigh. “It’s Emery who surprised me. I knew Megan was infatuated, but I never suspected he had feelings for her.”

“Especially when he’s so much older,” Hakan added.

Flann cringed, annoyance flicking from his emotions. “If he hadn’t opened himself up to me, showing me how he really cared for her, I swear … I’d have punched him in the face.”

Nolan laughed. It was nice to have Flann directing annoyance at Emery instead of him. There were times Flann had given him glares that would’ve turned a stronger man into a quivering lump.

Flann’s eyes flicked past Nolan’s shoulder.

Nolan turned as Kael and Alec walked toward them, side by side. They still didn’t like each other, but a mutual respect kept them at peace. And more often than not, Nolan found them sparring together on the practice field.

Alec was dressed nicely but still refused the Rol’dan uniform. He grinned when he saw Hakan and Flann, and before Alec could say anything, Hakan embraced him, crushing Alec’s face into his chest.

Finally, Alec came up for air. “How was your trip?”

“Long,” Flann said. “I’m glad to be off those roads.” His emotions darkened as he nodded at Kael. “General.”

“Did the staff arrange a room for you?” Kael asked.

“Yes. We are all settled in.”

“Good,” Kael said. “You didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”

“No, thankfully,” Flann answered.

They didn’t need to mention what kind of trouble. With Alcandor loose, travel wasn’t safe for anyone with a Shay power. He was gathering them. Soldiers wouldn’t return from excursions. Rumors of Dor’Jan sightings were becoming more frequent, which meant he was gaining powers.

“We will have Nolan accompany you home,” Kael said.

“Maybe you should stay,” Nolan suggested. “I’m sure Megan would love to have you near her.”

“Stay? In Faylinn?”

“We’re expanding,” Nolan said. “Turning Faylinn into a true town instead of just a castle prison. Emery is planning on building an outer wall, cutting down some of the surrounding forests, and putting in proper shops. Kardos already has his armory here in the inner ward, but he’ll move his business outside to the town. Besides,” Nolan said with a grin, “he’ll need a duke to oversee the new settlement.”

Confusion spread from Flann’s emotions, and then his brows shot up in understanding. He snorted. “Me? A duke?”

“You’ve already been leading the village. It would mean a fancy title and bringing them all here.”

“I’ll consider it. But, I’ll need to talk to the others when we return to the village.”

“And I’ll be happy to come along,” Nolan said.

“With all things considered, it would be nice.”

Someone cleared their throat.

They all turned to see one of the dukes—a balding man with a ring of white hair—standing with a beautiful Talasian woman on his arm. His velvet doublet was tight around his middle, and nervous tension emanated from his emotions.

Nolan blinked back his surprise. He hadn’t seen Duke Ragnall since he’d left Alton. Nolan hadn’t expected him to come at all, considering he’d locked Emery in the prison tower in the first place. The man was braver than he let on.

“Pardon me, General Trividar, sir,” the duke said. “Might I have a word?”

“Certainly, Duke,” Kael responded.

Ragnall’s eyes flicked to the others, landing on Nolan especially from time to time. Nolan could tell the duke wanted to speak privately; however, Kael stood firm, amusement flicking from his emotions. Kael was a real horse’s arse sometimes.

The duke’s eyes landed on Nolan again and fear emanated from the poor man. Even Mikayla watched Nolan, curious. Did they recognize him? More than likely not.

“General,” the duke began, reluctantly. “I must say, I was hesitant to come, considering the last time His Majesty and I met.”

One side of Kael’s mouth quirked. “The king has allowed me to continue serving as his general, even after I beat him half to death.”

“Of course, of course,” the duke stammered. “His Majesty is a forgiving man.” His eyes flicked to Nolan again, and he heard the old man’s heart accelerate.

Kael swung his arm dramatically to Nolan. “Duke Ragnall. Have you met … the Emissary?”

Nolan flashed Kael a warning glare. What was he trying to do?

Ragnall bowed low—well, as low as his stature would allow. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Emissary. Word of your magnificence has spread throughout Adamah, and especially in Alton.” Duke Ragnall’s groveling had improved.

“Please,” Nolan said. “Just call me N—” He stopped himself … barely, and cleared his throat. “Call me Emissary. No lord necessary.”

Kael snorted as a smile split his face. Nolan would get back at him later.

“Yes, Lord … ” Ragnall cleared his throat. “Yes, Emissary. Is it true you stopped this new menace from taking over our land and saved us from war? I heard you even saved the Talasian queen.”

With that comment, Mikayla’s eyes caught his. Her expression displayed mild interest, but her emotions oozed like a murky fog of curiosity.

“I didn’t save Queen Rayen. Alec Deverell saved her.” Nolan motioned toward Alec, who’d been standing quietly, listening. “You’ve met Alec, haven’t you, Duke Ragnall? He’s from Alton.”

“Deverell? Oh, yes! The blacksmith’s son. You came into your power this last spring, did you not?”

Alec shifted. “Um, yes, sir. Speed.”

“So you saved the Talasian queen?”

Alec’s cheeks tinted. “I … It was just … I was only helping, that’s all.”

“I’m glad she is well,” Mikayla said.

“She’s still here.” Alec addressed Mikayla. “She was hoping she’d get a chance to see you.”

Mikayla started, her eyes growing wide. “Rayen? Is here?” She whipped her head to her husband, eyes pleading.

“Of course you may see her,” the duke said with a warm smile.

Alec awkwardly offered his arm, and she took it. Excitement and nervousness pulsed from her in waves. Ragnall watched them depart, heading toward a grouping of Talasians. Rayen and Mikayla embraced, and a sad smile touched the old duke’s face.

“Duke Ragnall,” Nolan said. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been sensing your wife’s emotions. She’s unhappy with her life here in Adamah.”

Duke Ragnall sighed. “I know. Alcandor offered her to me years ago—and who in their right mind could turn down Alcandor? Besides, marrying her kept the poor girl off the streets. If I had let her go, she most likely would’ve joined the gypsies or gone into prostitution. So I did what I could and allowed her to stay with me.”

Nolan stared. He hadn’t expected such a response from Ragnall.

“You could … let her go now,” Nolan suggested. “Let her return to Talasi to be with her people. Her father was the one who banished her, and he’s gone.”

Duke Ragnall nodded, his emotions reflective. “She’s too young and beautiful for me anyway. I’ll ask her what she would like to do. She could never keep her eyes from wandering elsewhere.”

Strangely enough, the duke’s emotions weren’t sad. “I honestly couldn’t blame the girl if she’d like to go.” He rubbed his stomach, and a smile broke on his face. “There were far more younger and handsomer prospects for her than me.” His smile faded as he turned to Kael. “Speaking of … General, what happened to your brother, Nolan?”

Nolan inhaled a breath. So the duke had noticed Mikayla’s interest in him? He’d chosen to look the other way. Nolan’s heart warmed. He’d always known Ragnall was a good man, but he didn’t realize how much until now.

“I heard some outlandish stories,” Ragnall continued. “Even to the extent that Nolan gained all the powers and defeated Alcandor.”

Kael fixed his eyes on Nolan before turning back to Ragnall. “He did do all that. And then he used his Healing to bring me back to life.”

Ragnall’s jaw dropped, pain emanating from him. “Oh … Oh, my … Well, that’s a shame. He was a good boy. I’m so sorry to hear.”

Kat appeared with her Speed and grabbed Nolan’s arm. “Nolan! Emery and Megan are out. Everything seems well.”

Nolan searched the platform where the couple emerged. Their emotions were glowing. Happy. And by the way they gazed at each other, their conversation had gone well.

Nolan turned back to his conversation with Ragnall, who now gaped at him, his eyes as wide as the plates set out for the following feast.

“Come on, Nolan.” Kat pulled on his arm. “I saved you a seat.”

Nolan nodded at the duke and smiled. “Good to see you again, Duke Ragnall.” And then he left him, stunned and speechless, to watch the wedding of his friends.

***

The ceremony was brief, yet beautiful. Typically, the dukes and nobles officiated the weddings for those in their cities. Since the marriage of a king hadn’t been performed for centuries, Greer presided over the celebration. He flared his light around the couple, casting an amazing glow. After the ceremony was finished, the crowd erupted in cheers and threw flower petals into the air. The ceremonies Nolan had to record as a scribe in Alton manor never compared to the grandeur of this.

Megan and Emery descended the stairs, hand in hand. A small musical ensemble started playing a tune. When Megan saw Flann, she broke away from her husband and ran into her brother’s arms. He twirled her around and laughed before setting her down.

“Megan,” Flann said, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Flann turned to the approaching Emery and held out a hand. “Take care of her. Would hate to have to kill you now that we’re family.”

Emery threw back his head and laughed. “I will, brother.”

The musicians played a folk song while the mass of people drifted toward the practice field. Tables were arranged with white cloth, loaded with enough food to feed almost the entire country.

Flann motioned toward the musicians. “I brought my lute.”

Megan grinned. “Did you?”

“How about we show them a thing or two?”

She laughed and grabbed her brother’s hand. He nabbed his instrument from the nearby chair, and they darted up the platform together. After a minute of transition, Flann began to play a haunting tune, and Megan opened her mouth and sang. Nolan was transfixed; he’d never heard something so beautiful.

Emery stared at his wife, a smile on his lips.

After they finished the song, the crowd erupted in polite claps and cheers. Megan and Flann started playing again.

Emery sighed. “It’s been a while since she sang. It’s good to see her happy again.”

“So your talk went well?”

Emery dropped his head, still smiling. “It was good. We still have things to work on, but I’m optimistic.” He turned from watching Megan, his expression growing more serious. “Now that Jezebelle is gone, and the Talasian threat is subdued, will you try to spread the light again?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had any new visions from Brim. And I’m feeling a bit discouraged. Most of the places I visited resisted me.”

“Well,” Emery said, “now that the gypsies have gained powers, the townspeople might be more likely to believe.”

“Maybe. But I’m also starting to wonder if it’s a good idea.”

“Why so?”

“When the gypsies gained power, it was a disaster.”

Emery rubbed his beard. “Do we have a right to withhold something that is rightfully theirs? Isn’t everyone entitled to have their Shay? If I take away people’s freedom to choose, how is my rule any different than Alcandor’s?”

Nolan sighed. Emery had a good point.

“There will be more crime, yes,” Emery said. “But the good people will also gain strength to resist. There will be crime always, Shay empowered or not. I believe that, in the end, all things will work for the best.”

Nolan nodded, then another revelation, a more terrible one, came to him. “Emery, if I spread the light, it will only give Alcandor more access to gain Shay powers.” More victims. More Dor’Jan. Nolan shuddered at the thought.

The smile on Emery’s face faltered. “True. It might be best to wait until we’ve recaptured Alcandor.”

“If we recapture him.”

Emery didn’t respond.

A hand touched Nolan’s. He turned to the smiling face of Kat.

“Are you busy?” she asked.

“No, he’s not busy,” Emery answered with a smug grin.

And before Nolan could say anything, she pulled him away.

He followed, laughing. “Where are you taking me?”

“Shh,” she replied. “Too many Rol’dan.”

A group of Rol’dan soldiers stared at them … all girls. They wore different colored tunics, representing the different sects of the army. A Perception Rol’dan, a girl with light blond hair, watched them with orange light glowing from her eyes. The others had knowing grins plastered on their faces.

“Kat? What’s going on?”

She shushed him again.

Nolan clamped his mouth closed but couldn’t help smiling. He allowed her to drag him into the castle, and he still obediently kept his mouth closed as she led him up the stairs. As they headed for a bedroom wing, his heart beat a warning of nervousness and excitement.

She chose a room, dragging him with her. After she closed the door, she turned and placed a finger to the side of her head.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him with a glare.

She pointed to her head again, and then Nolan finally understood. Summoning his Guardian Empathy, he dipped into her mind.

“Can you do a noise barrier? The one the gypsy did?” she asked.

Nolan shrugged. He tried a few combinations, but the voices drifting in through the window confirmed his failure. At last, he summoned Perception and Empathy together, and the noise abruptly choked to silence.

Kat released a long sigh. “Finally! Those girls won’t leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone?”

“They know about us and want details.”

“What kind of details?”

She leveled a gaze at him, smiling.

His face warmed. “Oh. Those details.”

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Kat said. “They assumed, and it made them incredibly jealous.”

He’d never considered himself as someone to be jealous over.

She walked toward him, her eyes predatory. Nolan stepped back, hitting his legs on the bed, which made him sit on the soft mattress. Kat grabbed the front of his tunic and crushed his lips to hers. She nudged him back and fell atop him.

After some time, Nolan broke away, his breath labored. The musicians outside were playing a dance tune. Energetic and … crows.

“Kat?”

“Yes?” she breathed in his ear.

“I don’t think I can hold a sound shield at the same time.”

She giggled. “Well then. Guess the girls have something to talk about.”

It wasn’t as if they were doing anything serious, but if someone was listening, they’d be rewarded with a lot of heavy breathing.

Nolan snapped the shield back into place while he calmed the beating of his heart. It wasn’t easy, as she continued to trace circles on his neck with her fingertip.

He grabbed her hand.

“Don’t worry. I remember. We won’t go too far.”

He loosened his hold.

She leaned into his ear and whispered, “I’ve missed you.” Her breath sent a shiver down his back.

With the Talasian ship still at the dock, and all the extra staff preparing for the wedding, they hadn’t had much time to themselves. He’d missed her too.

They lay next to each other and snuggled on top of the covers. Slowly, their breathing relaxed, and their hearts slowed to a normal thrum. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he dared, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nolan?” she finally said. “I know with Alcandor roaming the land, everyone expects you to capture him and protect Faylinn. And at the same time, you’re supposed to be fearless and share the light with the whole land. It’s a lot to expect of one man.”

Nolan exhaled a trembling breath. “But I’m not a man.”

“Nolan Trividar. You stop that. You’re better than any man I’ve known.”

Nolan smiled. The sentiment was nice, even if it wasn’t true.

Kat propped up on her arm. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

He shrugged.

She grabbed his face, pulling it to her. “Listen to me. Being human and being a man are two separate things. Anyone can take up space and be a human. It takes someone special to be a man. You’re incredibly brave and selfless. You’d give up your primal instincts to protect me, even when I’m throwing myself all over you. A real man controls himself, putting others before his own desires and urges—like you do. Just because you’re only half-human doesn’t take away from the truth that you’re more of a man than any I’ve ever known.”

Nolan blinked, stunned.

“And just so you know, even though I’m nothing—no multiple powers, not even that great of a fighter—I’m here for you. I’ll follow you wherever you need to fight and be by your side whenever you need me. You don’t have to face the whole world on your own.”

His heart swelled. Who was this girl? He’d never met anyone like her. So passionate. So alive. Instead of speaking words he couldn’t form, he grabbed her face and kissed her. Their lips melded into one.

The kiss was different this time; the heat was still there, but something else lingered on the edges. He withdrew and stared into her mischievous hazel eyes. “Kat Connelly,” he said, his voice rough, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She grinned, and her eyes twinkled. “It’s about time.”

Postlude

ALCANDOR STEPPED AWAY from the body of Captain Ekon. He closed his eyes as delicious Strength seeped inside him, filling the void. It was a full Shay; no half power. A small step to his resurgence, but a step nonetheless. He glanced over at the Rol’dan girl and the half-breed, wondering what they had to offer him as well.

“I’ll take care of him, Father. Go and become strong.”

Stupid girl. Did she think he actually cared for her? It was interesting to think he was a father—he remembered the night she spoke of. He just hadn’t considered that the whore or her baby would live.

“I will meet with you soon,” Alcandor said, turning toward the stairs. She was useful; he was too helpless to fight the Emissary on his own. The boy was talented; more than likely, she wouldn’t make it out of the dungeon alive.

He climbed the stairs, the excitement of freedom spilling from his empty soul. The sunlight. The air. He needed out. As the door creaked open, he stopped. He felt the combined Shays. The power. It was him.

He clenched his fists. He had some Strength now, but not enough to kill him. Powerless. Weak. He growled in frustration. He’d have to be patient and wait until he was restored, then he would rip out his throat and drink in his Shays.

Using all the power he could muster, he changed. A soldier. A simple Rol’dan. The boy had enough Guardian light pulsing through him, he’d be clueless to his disguise.

Running up the stairs, Alcandor shoved him out of the way—just enough so he’d remember him. Soon, the Emissary would realize he’d let Alcandor slip through his fingers.

The Emissary descended, and Alcandor only wished he could see his face when he found the stinking cell empty. But now, Alcandor needed to get some distance—he was too weak. He ran down the hall, out the door, and into the woods.

Freedom now.

Revenge later.

***

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Acknowledgments:

I want to thank anyone who reached the end of this book. More than likely, this is your second journey with me (if you read book one), and you are the reason my characters lived and became more than a name on a page. Without you, it would only be me talking to myself on a computer. You are why writing is worth every frustration, sweat, and tears.

Even though my name is on the cover, it takes many to get a book into print. First, I want to thank Courtney Koschel, my editor. Once again she made this work better; it wouldn’t have been the same without her. I also want to thank Dj Hendrickson who added the final polish my manuscript needed.

Thanks again to Anne Drury who is such an awesome illustrator and a joy to work with. You brought life to Alec, and I’m sure he appreciated getting out of my head and onto a cover. Thanks to Liesl Mensinger, who, once again, created a fabulous title typography. You gave my cover the finishing touch it so needed.

To all of my writing friends who looked over my work in part or in full: Barb Pope, Michelle Gregory, Michelle McLean, and especially my Iron Pen Critique Group: Rich Miller, Wayne Sapp, and Joan Mauch. You have all been such great support for me over the years.

To my children, Lauren, Adam, Kira, and Lukas, for putting up with me through my publishing frustrations and adventures. And most of all, to my husband, Pete, who is always encouraging me through the good times and bad times of my writing career, and who also supports me and my many hair-brained ideas over the years. I love you.

And lastly, thanks to God, who forced me to have patience. Though I might have not liked the long road, it has taught me much. Thank you for helping me finally reach where you wanted me to go with the Emissary of Light series. I know now that I can depend on you, and not on the name and status of anyone else.

Kristal Shaff grew up with books (and drove her mom crazy when she wouldn't leave the library); her first job was even shelving books at the library. She loves anything creative, and you can often find her exploring strange and fantastical worlds in her choices of movies and fantasy fiction. Kristal resides in Iowa with her farmer husband, numerous pets, and 4 awesome kids. When she isn't writing, she is a professional face painter who enjoys making children smile.

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