“My lord.” Hax twisted a finger in her satiny blond hair, betraying a rare hint of apprehension. “How exactly did he betray you? And where have you been?”
“You know my father had creators studying the Serroc prison?”
Slow nods around the table.
“He had a secondary key created, a portal into a Serroc prison in the guise of a scroll. Renkle handed that scroll to me in my chambers the day I vanished. Captain Kardyn had a hand on my shoulder so it transported us both into the prison. Father’s pet adept, Myac, killed Kardyn when we arrived.” A twist of fresh sorrow came with the words. Myac would pay for Kardyn’s death and for the freakish hounds he had created to hunt Yiloch in the prison. He pushed away anger. “I won’t bore you with the details. What matters is that I found a way back.”
“Should we send word to Leryc of his uncle’s death?” Paulin asked.
Yiloch negated the idea with a firm shake of his head. “Leryc is already at risk. If he starts entertaining ideas of avenging Kardyn, he’ll end up dead or worse.”
Dalce cleared his throat. “Not to question your judgment, but are you sure Renkle knew what he was giving you?”
“I am. Father gloated over buying out one of my officers when I arrived. I’ve always said every man has a price. My failure was in not applying that rule to my most trusted.” He met each of their eyes in turn as he spoke, pleased that none of them looked away.
“The emperor had your brother beheaded for treason,” Eris blurted.
“Delsan? Delsan doesn’t… didn’t have the nerve to kill a spider.” Yiloch searched her face for a hint of what reaction she hoped to get with that abrupt revelation. She’d been fond of his younger brother and her slight flinch at his callous reply hinted that there was depth to that fondness. Was she seeking some reassuring display of emotion? Having essentially grown up with his family, he would be surprised if she expected so much. It was no secret that he had little love for his brother.
“Why would he make a show of killing Prince Delsan and say nothing of imprisoning you.” Her words cut off with an edge of bitterness now. She met his eyes a second before looking down at the map table. Her fingers touched one of the bloodstains.
Yiloch scowled, irritated by unspoken implications. “Father hated Delsan because he was spineless. You know that, Eris.” She flinched again and he glimpsed the shimmer of moisture in her eyes. Had she loved Delsan? Could he have missed something like that despite all their years together? “Me, he always respected, more so because I defy him. Perhaps he thought it amusing to preserve me like a pet he might take out and play with some day. Whatever the reason, he wouldn’t have given my allies hope by letting them know I still lived.”
“What about Delsan?” Eris looked up.
There were tears in her eyes.
“What about him?” Yiloch held her gaze. He refused to waste time on things he couldn’t change. Still, he needed her support. He forced a softer tone. “You knew Rylan wasn’t going to let him take the throne. His death became inevitable when he stayed in the capital.”
Eris’s jaw tensed, perhaps recalling that Yiloch had never asked Delsan to go with them. He wouldn’t have refused if his brother had asked, but that didn’t matter now.
She held her silence this time. Adran’s hand touched his sister’s arm, a gesture meant to comfort. She jerked away from him.
They were wasting time.
“What I need from all of you is a full accounting of Renkle’s activities while I was away. Any way in which he may have planted the seeds of failure. The influence he’s had on our plans. Where we are with those plans, assuming you continued to follow them.”
“We did.” Adran straightened, proud.
“Adran. Ever dependable.” Yiloch acknowledged him with a nod. “Thank you for not giving up. You can begin with your account of things.”
Adran shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the mood in the room, but he nodded and began.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Indigo stared at the place Eldrian had been seconds ago. With him there, even the beasts couldn’t drive her away. With him gone, icy fingers of dread crept up her spine. She wanted to be anywhere else. In scant seconds, everything changed and all she had left of him were memories and a pair of boots.
Looking at the oversized boots, she grinned. Though she barely knew him, something about him fit her. His arms felt like home more than any place she had ever been. Jayce would be a poor substitute for this exotic man who made her feel so wanted and alive. Such was the price she would pay for her father’s treason.
She stepped closer to the pillars, pulse racing, but the shimmer was gone. He was gone and she couldn’t follow. In that instant, she would abandon everything to go after him. Placing a hand on either side of one pillar, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against rough gray stone. If only…
The sound of movement behind her shattered her musings like so much fragile glass. Her heart bounded into her throat. She spun. A hound ambled into the canyon. She looked into its sightless eyes and recognized death in them.
Escape. She had to escape the dead end.
She ran, aiming for the gap between beast and canyon wall. Its head snapped up when she darted past, homing in on the sound of her movement, and it charged after her. She couldn’t hope to outrun the lanky beast in shoes that didn’t fit.
Remembering Eldrian’s last words, she bit hard on the healing split in her lip. Sharp pain and the taste of blood brought back the moment Jayce struck her, the surprise, the hurt, and the anger. She remembered running to the fountain in the Healer’s Courtyard. Images and emotions pummeled her. Pressure built on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t happening fast enough.
The hound snarled, so close. Terror spurred her and she discarded the remaining barriers masking her ability. Ascard energy flared, tremendous force almost driving her to her knees. Daring a glance over one shoulder, she saw the beast bunching for a lunge and seized the wild energy. It was beyond control.
She yearned for home more than she would have ever thought possible, yearned for Jayce, for anything but this. The beast slammed into her, oversized claws tearing into flesh under her rib cage. A blast of white-hot pain. The collision propelled her forward. Desperate, she lashed out with ascard. The hound shrieked. Then the sound cut off. She hit cobbles with bone cracking force.
Confusion. The pain of her arm snapping under impact. Searing agony in her side where the beast’s claws had torn in. She rolled off the arm, expecting another attack. Her eyes focused on the fountain.
“Did you see that,” a woman shouted.
A man leaned over Indigo. Someone’s hands held her down.
“Keep still. You’re hurt.”
“Get healers. Quickly!”
A hand moved into her line of sight, covered in blood. Someone was bleeding. She opened her mouth to tell them, but words wouldn’t come. The man’s face hung over her, his features blurring. Black closed in around the edges of her vision. She fought to push it back.
I will not die!
The black swept in.
*
Caplin jumped up from his seat. “I should check on her.”
“That’s what I said.” Andrea looked quite cross. “Were you even listening?”
“You said they found Indigo.”
“And?”
Caplin stared. He’d stopped listening after that. Unable to come up with a graceful way to convince her otherwise, he asked, “Is she all right?”
Andrea’s eyes flashed irritation before she looked away. “As long as you two have been friends, I would have thought you’d care more.”
You have no idea. He struggled to keep the impatience grinding away at his nerves from his voice. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I told you. She’s in the east hospital building. They won’t let anyone in to see her, not even Jayce. I thought, with your status, you might be able to get in and check on her. We’re really
worried.”
“As am I. I’ll see if I can get in or at least get more information.”
She stood and he kissed her on the forehead the same distracted way he always did his mother, barely noticing that the one was not the other.
As the king’s nephew, he would only get so far, but as a member of the High Council, he could get past most restrictions.
“Thank you, Caplin.”
Something in her voice caught his attention. Looking at her brought faint surprise. Andrea, you’re talking to Andrea. He brushed fingers over her cheek. “Anything for you.” Anything for Indigo.
Less than half an hour later, he walked through the east hospital building on Healer’s Academy grounds behind an older woman. She stalked along, lips pressed in a tight, irritated line. As a member of the High Council, they couldn’t deny him and they weren’t happy about it. They turned a corner in the hall and she stopped so fast he bumped into her and backed off with muttered apologies. A faint, satisfied smirk tugged at her lips when she turned and knocked on the door beside them. Long silence followed and Caplin started shifting from one foot to the other. He wanted to see Indigo now, to know that she was alive.
The woman gave him a sharp glance and he forced himself to be still.
“Maybe they didn’t hear you.” He reached up to knock again.
Her hand darted out like a striking snake and smacked his away. Before Caplin could express indignation, the door cracked open and a man peered out. Dark skin and curly, graying hair suggested an uncommon helping of Kudaness in his family.
“Master Siddael, this is Lord Caplin Duvox from the High Council. He insists on seeing your patient.”
The dark man scowled at Caplin, his lack of deference disconcerting. “I sent the king’s Inquisitor away so more healing could be done. She needs rest now.”
Caplin raised an eyebrow. Chasing off an Inquisitor was harder than getting rid of a bad cold. Then again, this man was a master healer. He could probably get rid of a cold easily enough.
“I came to get a full update on her condition,” he stated with practiced confidence.
“The broken arm and the wound to her side need more healing, but she’ll recover. She’s resting and shouldn’t be disturbed. We will allow her to wake after another healing.”
His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed, trying to maintain composure. “What happened to her?”
“The arm broke when she fell in the Healer’s Courtyard. The other injury was some kind of animal we think, something large.”
Caplin shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “How did she get to the courtyard?”
Master Siddael’s dark eyes narrowed. “As the report stated, several witnesses saw her appear by the fountain in the Healer’s Courtyard, falling as though she had been thrown or shoved. The wound in her side was fresh. She broke her arm when she hit the cobbles.”
He stared. It was all he could do. She had appeared by the fountain. How was that even possible? Where had she come from?
“The report explained all of this, which is why King Jerrin wanted his Inquisitor to speak with her when she wakes. Why would he send you as well?”
Shoving confusion aside, he met the man’s gaze. “She knows me. The king thought a familiar voice might help her.”
“She’s resting.”
“I’d like to see for myself.”
“She needs quiet and rest,” the Master healer persisted.
“I’ll be quiet,” he countered.
Master Siddael shook his head of close-cropped curly hair. Caplin prepared another argument. It died on his lips when the healer opened the door enough to admit him. He hurried through into in a long room full of cots. Four candles near the center added their meager illumination to dim light from several small windows at the far end. All the cots were empty except one in the midst of the candles.
Dodging the healer’s reaching hand and ignoring the small sound of protest he made, Caplin rushed to the bed. Indigo lay still, so still he wondered for a sickening moment if she had died. Her skin was so pale. Then he saw her chest move with slow, shallow breaths. Thick locks of rich brown hair framed her soft features. Long lashes brushed her cheeks, fluttering. Perhaps she was dreaming. She looked beautiful and fragile as a child. He yearned to look into her vivid blue eyes.
Caplin sank into a chair beside the cot. The flood of relief left him weak and an ache filled him, coursing through every fiber of his being. She was alive, she was perfect, she was everything he wanted and nothing he could have.
Moving as one caught in a dream, he lifted a hand toward her.
Master Siddael hissed, “Do not touch her.”
He pulled the hand back, but not before his fingertips brushed the soft skin of her face. Thank the Divine she was alive. What right did he have to ask more than that?
“I’m sorry. May I sit here a moment?”
The healer scowled, but a tiny glimmer of sympathy softened his eyes. “You may, if you sit quietly and do not touch her.”
Caplin nodded.
Siddael gave him a last look of warning before retreating to a desk tucked in the far back corner of the room.
Caplin looked at Indigo. At some point, she had become more than a friend and sister figure in his life. The change snuck up on him and discouragement from his father made him reluctant to express that new affection. Before he could work up the nerve to defy his father and tell her how he felt, she was engaged to Jayce. The moment he would have tried to make her his, she slipped beyond his grasp. She would never be his now. That didn’t change his heart.
What had Jayce done to her to make her run? Where had she gone?
A low moan came from her. He glanced up to see if the healer heard. Siddael was reading something on the desk, unaware of the soft sound. Caplin started when fingers brushed his arm. Indigo’s hand reached out searching, her eyes still closed, moving rapidly behind her lids. He took the hand and a tremulous smile curved her lips. Then she spoke, so soft he couldn’t make out the words.
He leaned close. “What is it?”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered in Lyran, her hand clenching his.
Caplin looked at her eyes, hopeful, but they hadn’t opened. She wasn’t speaking to him. Dreaming then, but of who and why in Lyran?
Sighing, he answered in kind. “I won’t leave you.”
The eye movement stopped. Her hand relaxed. Caplin moved to place the hand back on the cot and something, or rather, the lack of something, caught his eye. Was it the wrong hand? Glancing at her other hand, he confirmed that her engagement ring was indeed missing. After placing the hand back on the cot, he stood and walked back to Master Siddael. The man looked up at him, folding his hands together on the desk.
“May I?” Caplin gestured to a chair.
“I suppose so.”
Sitting, he considered the other man, deciding which of many questions to ask first.
Master Siddael tapped his foot. “Well?”
“Did she have anything on her when she was found?”
Siddael gave a weary exhale. He would have answered the same question for the Inquisitor. “Yes. She had her clothes. They were rather tattered.”
“Nothing else?”
“And those boots.”
Following the healer’s pointing finger, Caplin saw a pair of worn, fur-lined boots sitting on the floor to one side of the desk. They were too warm for Demin or anywhere very near the capital city. The make and materials weren’t typical to Caithin either. If those things alone weren’t odd enough, they were also men’s boots.
He thought of her words a moment ago. “They’re Lyran, aren’t they?”
The master healer nodded.
None of this made sense. “You said she was injured by an animal?”
“Yes. Her side was torn open. The wound was ragged, as though claws or teeth had done the damage. Whatever did it was powerful. She nearly bled out before we could close the wound sufficiently. If we
had gotten to her a few minutes later, she would be gone.”
Caplin shuddered. How close he had come to losing her. “But she was found in the Healer’s Courtyard. There are no animals in the city that could do something like that.”
“She wasn’t found, Lord Caplin, she appeared in the courtyard.”
“Appeared out of the air?”
The healer nodded.
“How is that possible?”
“If I knew that, boy, I wouldn’t have High Council and Inquisitors plaguing me, would I?”
Caplin bristled at the disrespectful address, but he held his temper. The man probably wasn’t used to this much harassment over a single patient.
“It’s just…” Caplin ground his teeth and glanced over his shoulder at the still figure on the cot. He turned back to Siddael, struggling with helpless frustration. “We don’t know where she was, how she got there, or how she got back. What if she’s still in danger? What if…” He cut off, clenching his fists and staring into his lap while he fought to keep his temper.
He snapped to his feet, stepped away from the desk, and ran a hand through his hair, staring at Indigo. Siddael came to stand next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. With gentle pressure, he guided Caplin to the foot of the cot.
“Whatever she is to you, Lord Caplin, believe that I will do everything I can for her. Beyond that, she is in the Divine’s hands and none of us can do more than He can for her.”
Caplin wanted to argue that the Divine let this happen to her in the first place, but that argument would gain him nothing. He nodded, understanding and appreciating the healer’s good intentions.
“We’ll let her wake tomorrow. Perhaps we can learn more then.”
Caplin choked out a hoarse thank you, allowing the hand on his shoulder to steer him to the door.
He knew he should find Andrea, but Jayce would likely be with her. He didn’t want to see Indigo’s fiancé right now. There was little doubt in his mind that Jayce had done something to drive her out into the night, which made this his fault. He wasn’t sure he could face the man right now without assaulting him. That would only complicate things. Andrea would forgive him in time if he sent a messenger in his stead to let her know that Indigo would recover.
Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1) Page 7
