Zaxe's Rule (Assassins of Gravas Book 4)

by N. J. Walters

  She lowered her head and contemplated smothering herself in the sand. Would it take long? Her skin would burn first. Not pleasant. Gods, was there no end to father’s disgrace? There was no way to live it down, but that was her only choice. She’d come too far, lost too much to allow her brother to follow him down that road.

  “Do you know where I can find him?” Zaxe pulled his sunshades back on but left his hood down.

  “We will talk,” Qasim repeated before turning and headed back to his horse. “You will come with us.” It was both an invitation and an order.

  “You’ll tell us what we need to know, old man, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Baraj shouted out from behind cover on the ridge.

  “Friend of yours?” Qasim asked.

  “Unwanted guest.”

  “Ah.”

  By the gods of Zaxus, they were too much alike, neither concerned about the rising tension or armed men around them. She inched to the other side of her barrier but didn’t have a shot at Baraj.

  Zaxe stood in front of Qasim. “You won’t harm him.”

  “I can kill you, him, the girl, and the rest of them. I only need one or two of them alive to get the information I need.” Baraj was out of his element in the desert and losing patience. He was a city rat, feared there. Out here, he was at a disadvantage. That wouldn’t sit well with a man like that.

  “I’m coming down,” she called out, praying no one would shoot her. If things went sideways, they could make a run on the sand sled. Although the odds of outrunning all these men weren’t great, it was better than doing nothing. Keeping low, she made her way down the path. The headscarf she wore blocked some of the sun, but the goggles she’d donned earlier cut down on the glare. Six men snapped to attention as she rounded a bend. Sweat rolled down her back. Her heart raced a mile a minute. She raised her hands in the air but kept hold of her blaster.

  “She is with you?” Qasim asked Zaxe.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah.”

  She was beginning to hate that word that said nothing but was ripe with implication. Since no one tried to stop her, she made her way over to Zaxe. He didn’t smile or frown, his expression as neutral as ever. She didn’t need him to glare to know he wasn’t happy. Too bad for him. She was done with hiding up in the hills.

  “Baraj, are you joining us?” Zaxe called.

  “Baraj. That is Reman’s man, is it not?”

  “You’re very well informed for a man who lives in the middle of the desert.” Just who was Qasim?

  “And you, my dear, are an unexpected surprise.” The slight bow he gave took her totally off guard. It was a courtesy that had never been offered to her before. She returned it, pressing her hand to her heart, as was custom.

  Baraj walked cautiously down the path. “Call your men off, old man.”

  If Qasim was insulted by Baraj’s lack of manners, he didn’t show it. He waved his hand and his men fell back behind him. “Join us. Tell me all the news of Reman.”

  Baraj kept his weapon ready, his eyes always moving, watching for any sudden movements. She swallowed, or tried to, but her throat was dry and tight. It would only take one spark for this to turn into a bloodbath, and Baraj was primed for a fight.

  “The only thing I need to do is get Helldrick’s whereabouts from you. If you can’t tell me that, you’re of no use.” The weapon jerked to the left as he fired right at Qasim.

  Zaxe jumped in front of the older man. Because he was taller, he took the hit directly on the chest. Heart in her throat, Jamaeh aimed and fired. The blast hit the wall, shattering rock, because Baraj was no longer there. He was already on the ground, his body motionless. Zaxe holstered the blaster she hadn’t even seen him pull.

  Oh, gods, they were dead. Baraj had tried to kill their leader. It was two against eighteen. And if they survived this encounter, Reman would kill them. Her future options weren’t promising.

  The rest of the men were yelling and waving their weapons, but Qasim seemed as unperturbed as ever. He raised one hand and they went silent. “If you are who I think you are, then you are indeed your father’s son.”

  ****

  Zaxe didn’t dare look at Jamaeh. If Baraj wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him for putting her in such danger. That was after he shook her for leaving safety in the first place. What had she been thinking?

  Yes, he’d saved Qasim’s life. Yes, Qasim seemed to recognize him, but that was no guarantee. “I am myself.” While he had some memories of his parents—being on Zaxus had dug them from the dusty corners of his mind—he had no idea if he was anything like his father.

  Qasim stroked the short beard covering his chin, expression shrewd, and nodded. “Then come with me, and I will get to know you better. You and your friend.”

  Jamaeh was still holding her blaster, her skin slightly pale as she glanced from Qasim to Baraj and back again. What was she thinking? He was hungry, hot, and dirty, but they were minor inconveniences. “You will tell us about Helldrick?” The mission was everything to him.

  “You are a determined one, aren’t you?” He nodded. “Very well. Come with us. Spend the evening in our camp, and I will tell you what I know.”

  “Jamaeh?” It wasn’t Zaxe’s decision alone to make. “You can go back to Badwa. I can handle things from here.” She’d already seen enough death to last a lifetime.

  She thrust the blaster into the belt at her waist and put her hands on her hips. “I’m going with you.”

  Zaxe released a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding. He wanted her with him. All the better to watch over her, keep her safe. And what happens when I leave? He ignored the dark thought and motioned to the sand sled. “That sled works. And there’s one on the other side. Jamaeh can drive one and I’ll take the other.” They needed their own transportation.

  “Very well. See if there is anything to salvage,” Qasim told his men. Two stayed beside him, but the rest flowed into the canyon. Some shot him a watchful glare, but most seemed more curious.

  In no time, they were skimming over the sands with him and Jamaeh in the middle of the group. Zaxe mapped their movements in his mind so he could backtrack if necessary. Qasim might come across as friendly, but a man didn’t become leader of a group like this without being intelligent, cunning, and ruthless. The younger men had responded instantly to his every command. That spoke of either fear or respect. And he didn’t sense fear.

  A good leader cultivates respect and listens to his advisors, but ultimately makes his own choices. The deep male voice was an echo from the past. He’d been standing beside his father, peering out over the city of Badwa at the time. Unable to see over the railing, his father had lifted him so he could stand on it, his strong arm wrapped around Zaxe to keep him from falling.

  He wanted to believe he was like his father—wise and strong—but he’d trained as an assassin. Ruthlessness, single-mindedness, and dedication were as much a part of him as his flesh and bones. It was who he was.

  Those who knew his father would have expectations. Ones he wasn’t prepared to fulfill, wasn’t sure he wanted to. His only goal was his personal freedom.

  No man is free.

  “Be quiet, old man,” he muttered. After years of silence, why was he remembering these things now?

  Because his life was almost his own for the first time since childhood, and he was home. The longer he spent here, the more familiar it became.

  The sun wasn’t quite at its peak when the settlement came into view. They’d gone around in circles, backtracking several times. Seemed Qasim’s trust only went so far. Zaxe’s respect for the man grew.

  This wasn’t a ragtag camp of ruthless men but a thriving community filled with women and children, young and old. Many waved as they slowed and continued through the main street. All of them stared at him and Jamaeh.

  An icy cold shard pierced his soul. Whatever happened here would change the course of his life. It was a deep knowing, as if some god had tapped him on the should
er and whispered in his ear.

  He gripped the handles of the sled tight, staying on course instead of turning back. There was no retreat, only moving forward. Besides, Jamaeh had to be exhausted. Neither of them had slept last night nor had they had much the one before. Added to the journey through the hot desert, it was enough to make the strongest long for a meal and a rest.

  They followed Qasim to a small stone dwelling. Most of the homes were cobbled together from various materials, but some were made of bricks, crafted using the desert sands, of which there was plenty.

  He killed the engine of the sand sled. The hum was replaced by the murmur of voices and the sounds of the animals populating the town. Keeping his back to the wall as he dismounted, Zaxe charted the quickest exits from the settlement if they had to make a run for it. The group gathering seemed more curious than hostile, but there were men with hard, weathered faces and suspicious eyes throughout the group.

  “I have brought guests,” Qasim announced with a flourish. “We will feast tonight.” A cheer went up. Several older women rolled their eyes, no doubt wondering how they were going to accomplish that task in a matter of hours.

  Some of the tension flowed out of him, but not much. They were in a precarious position, their very lives depending on the whims of their host.

  “You will stay here,” Qasim informed him. “Jamaeh will bunk with the single women.”

  “No.” On this, he would not bend. “She stays with me.” Without him having to ask, she strode over to stand beside him in a united front.

  The women in the crowd suddenly didn’t seem so welcoming. Some of them frowned, whispered behind their hands, and pointed. Jamaeh kept her chin up and her eyes forward. What was the problem?

  “That is most unusual…” Qasim stroked his beard, something he seemed to do while thinking.

  His brain kicked in. This was all about the customs of Zaxus. A woman stayed with her family or husband. To spend a night alone with a man not related to her cast her reputation into doubt. It was antiquated and offensive. His sisters would roll their eyes in disgust. What were a woman’s choices when she was alone with no family and none willing to help? Jamaeh had built a life for herself and her brother. And from all he could glean, she’d done it alone.

  “Jamaeh is mine.”

  She went stiff beside him. He only prayed she’d wait until they were alone to yell at him. He removed his sunshades and stared at the crowd, letting his gaze land on the most judgmental of them. “Any insult to her is an insult to me.” They now had fair warning.

  “I meant no offense.” Qasim gave them a slight bow. “You are my guests. Come. Come.” He led the way into the small structure. Zaxe waved Jamaeh in ahead of him.

  The dwelling was one large room. There was a single bed and a table with two chairs. All of it was mismatched, but the place was scrupulously clean and tidy.

  “We have no gel cleansing units, but there is water. I will have some brought so you may refresh yourselves and rest. There are basic facilities over there.” He pointed to a small sectioned-off area with a door for privacy. “We will feast and talk later.” Giving them another slight bow, Qasim retreated, leaving them alone.

  He waited until the door closed before pushing down his hood. Expecting her to launch into a tongue-lashing, he was more than a little concerned when she simply sank to the floor where she stood.

  “Jamaeh.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. “Are you hurt?”

  She dragged the goggles and headscarf off and tossed them aside. “What do you mean I’m yours?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dirty and exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to fall over onto her side and sleep. The bed was only feet away, but she was sweaty and dirty and didn’t want to soil the blanket.

  Zaxe crouched beside her and pressed his hand against her cheek. It was surprisingly cool. Or maybe she was overheated. Having him lay claim to her in front of the entire settlement had raised her blood pressure.

  “I won’t have them disrespect you.”

  Warmth spread out from her heart. No one had ever defended her honor before. “It’s nothing new.”

  His eyes turned fierce and a muscle in his jaw flexed. “It’s not right.”

  She managed a shrug, which took more effort than it should. The pack seemed heavier than it had been, so she slipped it off, sighing with relief. She was really wiped out. “Maybe not, but that’s the way things are here.”

  “Then they need to change.”

  A tired laugh bubbled up. “You volunteering for the job?”

  He jerked as if she’d struck him. It would have been comical if it wasn’t sad.

  “Didn’t think so. The current ruler thinks things are just fine. If anything, he’s rolled back the rights of women over the past couple of decades. His son is worse.”

  “His son?”

  Jamaeh rubbed the grit from her eyes. Was there any water? Her mouth was drier than dirt and her water flask was empty. “Samar.”

  “The bully from the market?” He leaned down, hooked his arm around her waist, and dragged her to her feet. While her head was still spinning, he all but carried her to one of the chairs.

  “Yes. He basically does what he wants. If anyone complains, they end up having even more trouble.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. She drew her blaster, setting it on her lap, using the table as cover. Giving her a nod of approval, Zaxe opened the door. Two men carried basins of water, while several women held baskets. The older of the women gave him a nod. “May we enter?”

  Zaxe stepped back and gave a slight bow. They glanced in her direction, then away, seeming wary of them both. The basins were set on a stone ledge just beyond the table. The baskets were set on the ground beneath. “There’s water for washing. You’ll find washcloths, towels, and soap in one basket. The others contain food and drink. Refresh yourselves and rest.”

  They left as quickly as they’d come. No one else spoke, but all gave Zaxe a wide berth as they left. “I think you intimidate them.”

  “Good.” There was no lock, so Zaxe took the second chair and jammed it beneath the door handle.

  “All things considered, they’re being hospitable.” And that surprised her. “I thought this would be a camp for outcasts. I thought Helldrick would be here.”

  “And your brother?” Zaxe flipped back the lid of one of the baskets and pulled out several lengths of toweling and two cleaning cloths. Hefting the other two, he brought them to the table.

  “And Esau.” She rubbed her fingers against her temple. Worry about him was eating at her. Some would say he was an adult at eighteen. The gods knew she’d been supporting herself and him at that age, but she’d sheltered as much as possible. Maybe that was a mistake, but she’d wanted him to have some of the childhood she’d lacked. Even with all she’d done, he’d still grown up being spit at and looked down on for his mixed blood. Esau was always trying to prove himself—to her and the entire neighborhood. It was all too easy to see him heading off with stars in his eyes, figuring he’d make some kind of big score and come home triumphant.

  “Would your father harm him?”

  It was a legitimate question, and one she couldn’t truly answer. “I want to say no, but there’s no telling. If Helldrick’s life was on the line, he’d toss Esau to the wolves, but I’m more concerned about him getting my brother involved in one of his schemes. He seems to make money and walk away. Many of his associates don’t. At least that’s what I’ve heard and what my mother told me.”

  “You don’t see him?”

  Bitterness tinged her laugh. “That’s an understatement. I’ve seen him a handful of times in my life, and that was mostly after Esau was born. Sons are important.” Her eyes burned, but that was only due to exhaustion. She’d given up caring or wanting something she’d never have a long time ago.

  “What did your mother tell you about him?” His voice was gentle, but this was beginning to feel like an interrogat
ion.

  She didn’t talk about her mother. It made her stomach hurt and left a sour taste in her mouth. “My mother lived in a world of her own. She made up stories about Helldrick being away on important business, about him wanting to be there. It was all lies.” Zahra Jerman had been beautiful and delicate, a fragile creature easily crushed. Helldrick had seen her and taken her. She’d never been sure if her mother had actually wanted her father or if she’d believed she didn’t deserve any better after the fact. An orphan with no one to protect her, she’d been easy prey for a man like him. Her stories had been her way of dealing with having two mixed children out of wedlock.

  Zaxe laid out the rest of the provisions. The water flask was like a gift from the gods. She grabbed it and fought the urge to guzzle, making herself sip so she didn’t get sick. “So good.”

  “You’re dehydrated.” Frowning, he placed his hand on her forehead. “Warm, too.”

  “My skin isn’t as dark as yours.” As a half-breed, she didn’t have as much natural protection against the brutal sun. Even with her headscarf and sun blocker, she’d overheated. She blamed her messed-up biology on Helldrick. Something else to place at his door.

  Zaxe dipped one of the cloths in the water, squeezed out the excess, and pressed it against her face. Her skin drank it in, the coolness welcome.

  “That’s so good.” She took the cloth from him and rubbed it over her face and neck.

  “You should wash first and change. You’ll feel better.”

  “I can’t strip down with you here.” Staying together made sense. Stripping down with him in the room? Not happening. Not only was it embarrassing, but no man had ever seen her naked. She also wasn’t stupid. If she removed her clothes, they’d end up in bed. That wasn’t arrogance or overconfidence. The heat had been simmering between them since they’d first met. One tiny spark would make it explode.

  “I promise not to watch.” His black eyes twinkled with mischief, making him appear younger and even more appealing.