by Anna Argent
He reached under the seat and found the weapon he’d put there days ago. It was an Imonite blade, but rather than being completely matte black as most of their weapons were, this one had been made for the previous empress. Ribbons of enamel and gems, all in House Loriah blue, decorated the hilt. The blade was smaller than normal, but perfectly balanced and wickedly sharp. It was sheathed in blue leather inlaid with strands of silver wire and more winking gems.
He offered it to her, hilt first. “This is for you. It belonged to your mother.”
“My….” Her voice trailed off. Pain and silent longing drew her brows together. A sheen of tears shimmered in her eyes before she blinked it away. “It’s beautiful.”
“And deadly. If I should fall, this may help protect you until the others arrive.”
Her gaze snapped to him. Her tone was as sharp and fierce as the blade she held. “You will not fall. I won’t let it come to that.”
Warrian remembered how she’d wielded the board as if she would have used it to battle the Dregorgs. She had been afraid then, but it hadn’t stopped her from standing up to their enemies, ready to fight. If she thought she could save him, he worried that she might risk her life to do so.
“You must always protect yourself first. Run, hide, do whatever it takes to stay alive if we are attacked again. We will find you.”
She lowered her gaze, hiding her eyes from him, but not before he saw a flash of rebellious anger. “It won’t come to that. And frankly, I’m sick of all the doom and gloom. Can we just lighten up for a while and stop talking about worst case scenarios?”
Isa got out of the car before he could answer. He followed, his feet crunching over ice-coated grass.
The door to the barn was unlocked. In fact, it was barely still clinging to its hinges. This whole structure was brittle and sagging with age. There was no danger of collapse, but there were gaps between the boards and holes chewed away by rodents, leaving it nearly as windy inside as it was out.
Isa held the door open, letting in the light from the truck’s lamps so he could see.
Warrian went to the metal barrel, filled it with some thin sticks sitting nearby, and poured some flammable liquid inside to get the blaze started.
The truck’s lights winked out, leaving them with only the infant glow of the fire to light the large space.
She came closer, hugging herself to ward away the cold.
“There should be bedding under that tarp,” he told her, pointing to a shadowy corner. “Cover yourself.”
Once he was sure the flames would hold, he added a couple of split logs.
Heat poured out, warming his numb fingers.
Isa was wrapped in an open sleeping bag. She handed him a second one. “Here you go. Almost as good as a coat.”
Warrian took it and draped it over his shoulders. Weariness bore down on him, demanding that he rest. The garala had healed his wounds, but his body was still working to rebuild what was lost. Tissue, blood—it all took a toll, leaving him wavering on his feet.
As large as this space was, as much wind as was slinking through, there was no way this single fire was going to warm the area much. They were going to have to linger nearby, making the most of the heat they had available.
She stood close to the barrel, holding the padded fabric open to catch the heat of the fire. He could tell by the tremors of cold that shook her that it wasn’t going to be enough.
A small stockpile of supplies had been left here. Warrian sorted through them until he found the food and water. He’d only been on this world a few weeks, and he was not yet familiar with the way foods were stored and packaged. It took him a while, but he finally managed to use the garala to warm some water in ceramic mugs and make tea.
He carried the steaming liquid to Isa, and she took it, gratefully cupping it in her slender hands. She let out soft groan of pleasure that his body mistook for something more than it was.
“Thank you. I’m really missing my gloves right now.”
“I’m sorry that all of your possessions were lost. But you don’t need to worry. Everything you need will be provided for you on Loriah.”
She tensed, and a deep line of anxiety formed between her brows. “What’s it like there?”
“You’ll be delivered to the island where the palace resides. It’s warm there. You won’t have any need for gloves.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It used to be the loveliest place on the planet.”
“You say that like it’s not anymore.”
“It’s not,” he said. “Parts of the island are still untouched, but others… the war has not been kind to our land.”
“That bad, huh?”
He wasn’t sure how wise it was for him to go into detail. She was already resistant to the idea of leaving this world. The last thing he wanted to do was give her even more reason to cling to a place not her home. “All will be restored.”
If she lived long enough to do what was required of her.
The thought swept through him, colder than the wind outside. She had to survive. There was no other way for them to beat back the Raide. The ranks of warriors had thinned too much. Supply lines had been destroyed. Entire islands of crops had been burned in an effort to starve the armies into submission.
The Raide seemed to have endless waves of reinforcements. New units of Cyturs arrived every time a window opened. The viscous, spidery creatures fought mostly at night when the Loriahans were their weakest. Imonite Builders had tried to keep up with the onslaught, providing them with technology to aid their nighttime combat, but it was never enough. Most of the shipments were destroyed, and the weapons that did reach the warriors had to be fueled by the already weary troops. They could fight on even footing, using that powerful Imonite technology, but doing so only sped their exhaustion.
With more and more enemy soldiers flooding in every few days, it was only a matter of time before there were no more warriors to stand between the Raide’s forces and the civilians unable to defend themselves.
The empress had to go back. There were no other options.
Warrian only wished that the fate that awaited her would be a kinder one.
“What was it like growing up here?” he asked, trying to deflect her curiosity. He was too weary to think of ways to answer her questions without lying. And he feared if he told her the whole truth about just how bleak things on Loriah were, she would sneak out while he slept and disappear into the night.
She sipped her tea. “Normal. G’ma said my parents were killed in the war. I always assumed she meant the war in the Middle East.”
“Did she ever talk to you about your duties?”
A faint smiled curled her mouth. Some of the color was back in her cheeks, and the shivering of her body had eased, thanks to the hot tea. “She talked about how I had a great destiny and that when the time came, I needed to be ready to sacrifice for something bigger than myself.”
“And that amuses you?”
“No. What amuses me is that I thought she was talking about marriage. Kids. Family was everything to G’ma. I just didn’t realize that the family she was so protective of was a bazillion light years away.”
“A bazillion?”
She waved a hand. “Just a guess.”
“Your G’ma sounds like a dutiful and wise woman. I’m certain your mother never would have allowed you to rest in the care of anyone less.”
The empress smiled again, and this time it stretched over her face to crinkle her eyes. Firelight flickered across her cheeks, stroking her skin with its soft light.
She was a stunningly beautiful woman. Men raved that her mother had been the most beautiful empress ever, but Warrian was one of the few who knew that was no longer true. Not even Isa’s mother had come close to such ethereal perfection.
Perhaps she would be safe on Loriah. Perhaps her fragile appearance and fine bones formed by this world would hold the council at bay. Surely they would not do anything to risk her
health, even if it meant she gave them no heir to continue her work.
“G’ma was awesome,” said the empress. “She always had a story for me. She was always there when I needed her. I’ve been lost without her.”
Warrian wanted to fill that void and be the person the empress could lean on. She didn’t look strong enough to face what lay ahead on her own, and he desperately wished he could travel with her and ensure her safety.
But if he did that—if he defied orders and abandoned his mission—he would never be allowed to remain by her side. Imperial guards came from long lines of noble warriors. It was not simply a job he could demand. It was the kind of thing one was born into.
The empress would have to survive without him and lean on others for support, no matter how much he despised the idea of abandoning her.
“These stories,” he said, “did she speak of Loriah?”
She shook her head, drawing his attention to the silky, unbound strands. “Not by name. She told me about island nations and a vast ocean, but there were some stories that seemed to choke her up.”
“Choke her?”
“They made her sad. Now I see why. She was all alone here, separated from her friends and family with no way to contact them—at least not one that I knew of.”
“Communication is possible, but only when a window is open nearby. Your guardian would have been given instructions to remain silent. The Raide could have intercepted any message sent, jeopardizing your secret hiding place.”
“G’ma never would have done that. She made overprotective parents look like slackers.”
“Did she prepare you for what you will need to do when you return home?”
“If I return,” she repeated. “And no, she never said anything about me going anywhere. Looking back, I almost wonder if she was hoping I wouldn’t have to go. She hated violence, despised war.”
“When she left with you, the situation was grim.”
“And now? Is it better?” There was a tremor of fear in her voice.
He shook his head, stepping closer in the hopes that his nearness would sooth her as it had before. “It is much, much worse. Your mother tried to hold back the advancing forces, but the strain was too great. When she gave her last breath for her people, some of her kin tried to step in and operate the cannon. Two were close enough in blood to get the device to respond, but they weren’t meant for the task.”
She looked up at him, fear widening her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“The Builders were careful in their design of the weapon. They wanted to ensure that it could not be used by anyone other than those from the imperial bloodline. When your mother’s cousin tried to operate it, she was only able to do so for a few hours before it consumed her.”
“Consumed her?” She stumbled back a step.
Warrian grabbed her arms, fearing she might tumble to the ground. She was shaking inside his grip. Her heart was hammering in her throat.
The urge to ease her fears was an immediate response—one he could not have controlled if he’d tried. Perhaps there was still a small part of her energy hovering inside of him, drawing him to her. He didn’t know for sure. What he did know was he could not stand by, still and uncaring when she was suffering.
He cupped the sides of her face, stroking the soft skin under her wide eyes. “You remember how it felt when you activated the garala? How it took something from you?”
She gave him a tiny nod that he never would have seen, but felt along his fingertips. “It was like a strand of something was being pulled out of me. Something important.”
“The weapon is like that. It pulls power from the wielder. Consumes it. When a person has no more power to give…”
“That’s what happened to my mother, isn’t it? She let that machine suck her dry.”
He stroked her unbound hair back from her face, seeking to find some way to give her comfort. The truth was bleak, but if he offered her anything else, she would know. The lie would shove its way between them like a wedge, and he couldn’t tolerate the idea of allowing that distance. He needed to keep her close. Safe.
He tried to tell himself that holding her trust was simply a part of the mission—that if she didn’t trust him she would not comply with his orders should they be attacked again. Her life could depend on her trust in him.
But there was more to it than that. He wanted to have her close. Being here with her like this, touching her, comforting her—he needed it. Craved it.
“Yes, Isa. She died the night you were sent away. She died to ensure that you and all the other children made it to safety, where no one would find you.”
She flinched at his words. Her slender throat clenched, the tendons going tight. She reached for him. The puffy sleeping bag lay in the way, so he shrugged it off, not wanting anything to block her touch.
Her fingers landed on his waist, fluttering with the pain he saw streaking through her. She closed her eyes and leaned forward until her head pressed against his shoulder. He should have stood there, motionless, letting her take from him the support she needed. But such inaction was beyond him. He had to do something to rid her of her pain. Standing there idly was impossible.
Warrian wrapped his arms around her and stepped forward until the whole of her body was pressed against his. The soft swell of her breasts teased him, and he realized the flaw in his action as soon as he began to feel himself stir and harden.
Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt as if she feared he might try to slip away. She had no way of knowing that her pull on him was too great, and that it would have taken an entire army to pry him from her.
She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and sucked in a great, shuddering breath. “This is all too much, Warrian. I need some time to digest what’s happened. Who I am. What you want from me.” She looked up at him. “You’re asking me to risk my life for people I didn’t even know existed yesterday. That’s a lot to handle.”
“It is,” he agreed. “But we all must do our duty. No matter how unpleasant.”
“Don’t you think I deserve a little time to think about it?”
“If there were any time to spare, it would be yours, but there’s not. We took too long finding you. Even longer trying to get to you without being followed.” If Warrian and the other men had arrived even two minutes later than they had, she would have been swept away by the Dregorg, never to be seen again. The Raide would have her in their custody, subjecting to her unthinkable torture until she agreed to do whatever they asked.
And she would have agreed. She would have had no knowledge to even consider doing otherwise. She had no idea just how important her role in the battle was. No one had told her.
Without her, it was only a matter of time before the palace was overrun and the weapon fell into enemy hands. If the Raide controlled her, they controlled the weapon. And while there were other weapons in other nations, none were positioned so that they could defend the ocean territories. The cannon on Imperial Island was the only one that could protect Loriah.
“You must return and do what you were born to do,” he told her.
She backed up, out of his embrace. “Stop pushing me. I understand what’s at stake. The harder you push, the more desperate and trapped I feel. I need some time to think and to adjust to the idea that my life as I know it is over.”
Warrian held his tongue, though he nearly had to bite it off to do so. He wanted to tell her there was no more time. He wanted to force her to agree here and now to do the right thing, but that was precisely what she was asking him not to do.
She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the sleeping bag tighter. She looked so small and vulnerable huddled inside the fabric. The shiny surface reflected firelight from the barrel, making it obvious just how badly she was shaking.
Warrian refilled her mug with water, heated it between his hands, and offered her the steaming tea. “The next window opens in a few hours. You should rest until then. Your fatigue is add
ing to your inner turmoil.”
“Are you telling me that I’ll feel better after I sleep?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure I can sleep—not with us being hunted.”
“We are as safe here as we can be. The storm is worse. Dregorgs don’t like the cold. It will slow them down. And I will be sure to wake you if any danger draws near.”
“What about you? You said you needed food and sleep to finish healing.”
“I will take what I need when you are safe.” He almost said when she was on Loriah, but stopped himself out of respect for her request for time. Even so, the look on her face—the way her brows pinched together in worry—told him that she understood him all too well.
“Where are these perimeter alarms?” asked Isa.
He pointed to the flat disks that Talan had adhered to the walls. “They will flash if something gets near the transmitters encircling the area. Whichever lights flash is the direction from which someone is coming.”
“Do they make noise?”
“They are not set to do so, but I can alter the settings.”
“Then do it. We’re both about to fall over.”
“I will stay awake while you rest.”
Her teeth chattered. “Screw that. I know you’re exhausted. If I have to, I’ll order you to sleep.”
Warrian retrieved the third sleeping bag and unrolled it across the dirt floor. “Lie there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Reset the alarms to wake us.”
“And then?”
“I will sleep.”
Her mouth puckered. “You keep forgetting that I know when you’re lying.”
He stifled a curse in his native language as he adjusted the alarms. Her gift was infuriating, making his job to keep her safe harder than it needed to be. Between that, his untimely lust, and her hesitance to agree to do her duty, Warrian’s patience was nearly gone.
His voice came out as a warning between clenched teeth. “Lie down, Your Imperial Majyr.”
Her chin went up in defiance. “I will when you do. You’re being stupid and macho, and it’s going to get us killed.”
