As the music wound down and the crowd thinned, the two of them walked toward Kyrin’s mother, who sat on a bench at the edge of the gathering. Meredith curled up next to her, fast asleep. The little girl had done her share of dancing, but the late night had caught up with her.
“Looks like we need to get someone off to bed,” Kyrin said.
Her mother nodded, smoothing Meredith’s hair. “She fell sleep about a half an hour ago insisting she could keep dancing.”
Kyrin laughed quietly.
“Would you like me to carry her inside?” Jace asked.
Kyrin’s mother offered him a warm smile. “Thank you, Jace.”
He released Kyrin’s hand and bent down to lift Meredith into his arms. She gave a sleepy groan of protest but snuggled into his shoulder. Though Jace typically avoided children, he had formed a bond with Meredith due to the increased time he spent with Kyrin and her family. The sight of the two of them turned her insides to mush and rushed her thoughts far beyond the foreseeable future.
With her mother leading the way, Kyrin walked with Jace to the cabin. Jace carried Meredith up to the bed in the loft while Kyrin helped her mother light a couple of candles. When he stepped back down, he bid Kyrin’s mother goodnight, and Kyrin followed him to the door, where they paused just outside. He turned to her, his aqua blue eyes so vivid and bright, even in the dark. The light inside them could bring fear to so many people, but Kyrin only saw the beauty.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” she told him.
“So did I.”
His gaze dropped, and Kyrin’s pulse quickened. Bending down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. He didn’t kiss her often, and not for more than a moment, but she cherished each kiss.
“Goodnight,” he whispered.
She echoed him, meeting his eyes again. He gave her the smile that had become one of her greatest treasures—the smile of a man changed by Elôm and hopelessly in love.
“Michael, put your things here for now, out of the way. You can arrange them later. You too, Ronny.”
Kyrin smiled from her place in the loft as her mother delegated below. Though they had always enjoyed sharing the cabin, now that Lenae had moved in with Warin, Kyrin’s mother clearly liked running her own home again. And when she had suggested Kyrin’s brothers all move in, they had jumped at the idea. They hadn’t all lived under the same roof in years, and despite the cramped space compared to their large family home back in Mernin, they wanted to make it work. In a way, it would recapture some of their childhood cut too short.
While her brothers worked below, Kyrin arranged the loft to accommodate both herself and her mother.
Meredith sat on one of the small beds dressing her dolls. “When will I move into the new cabin with Mommy and Warin?”
“In a few days.”
The little girl’s brows gathered in a pout, and Kyrin straightened from placing her mother’s clothing in the dresser. “What’s wrong?”
Meredith looked up, her eyes wide and wistful. “I’m going to miss sleeping here with you.”
“I know. I’ll miss you too. But aren’t you excited to have a loft to yourself? You’ll have lots of room to play with your dolls.”
“Will you come and play with me?”
“Of course.” Kyrin sat down beside her and tickled her just enough to erase the frown and earn a giggle. “And I’m sure your mommy won’t mind if you sleep over here sometimes.”
This seemed to satisfy her.
“You’ll always be my sister, won’t you, Kyrin?”
“Always,” Kyrin promised, giving her a hug. She may call Lenae Mommy now, but Kyrin had adopted her as a little sister ever since their days at Tarvin Hall.
She stood to get back to work. Downstairs, Liam walked in carrying one end of a cot. Jace followed him with the other. He glanced up and caught sight of her, breaking into a smile. Kyrin returned it, her mind quick to recall their time together yesterday. If only every day could be so carefree and wonderful.
“Do you think Warin will let me call him Daddy?”
Jace disappeared from sight, and Kyrin turned again to Meredith. “I think he would love that.”
The little girl let out a long sigh. “I still miss my real mommy and daddy.”
“I know. I miss my daddy too.” Every time his face came to mind, Kyrin’s heart constricted around the invisible wound there that never fully healed. He would have loved to see them all together in this cabin. Even more to see them all getting along and fighting for the same cause. They had lived too much of their lives in opposition to each other. Yet, if not for losing him, none of this would be reality. The loss had brought them together like they never were in the past.
When Kyrin finished arranging the loft, she joined her mother and brothers downstairs. By this time, Marcus had hung a couple of canvas curtains to partition off the back of the cabin where their five cots sat in a neat row. Michael and Ronny chattered and sorted their things, while Marcus and Liam moved a couple of chests and a dresser into place. The only one missing from the group was Kaden, who’d been absent since breakfast.
However, just before lunchtime, he appeared at the door with Talas. The two spent so much time together, the crete was almost like another brother to them.
“Ah, there he is.” Marcus wore a teasing grin on his face. “Showing up after all the work is done.”
Kaden smirked. “Clever, right?”
The rest of the family gathered around, and Marcus thumped Kaden on the shoulder.
“Let’s have a look. I know you’re itching to show us.”
Kaden grinned and lifted his right arm, turning it over to reveal the underside of his wrist. Dark brown ink tattooed his skin in the shape of a dragon in flight. Beside him, Talas raised his right arm to display a matching tattoo.
“They look good,” Marcus said. “Do all the riders have them?”
Kaden nodded, his eyes alight with satisfaction. “All thirty-four of us, including our two newest recruits.”
Whatever happened from here on out, this tattoo bound the Landale dragon riders together for life. Kyrin thought it telling that Talas had joined himself to the group, being a crete.
Ronny stepped closer, admiring the tattoos. “I want to be a Landale rider someday.”
Kaden nudged him. “I’ll save a spot for you.”
Ronny grinned, and Kyrin looked over at Michael. He didn’t share their youngest brother’s interest in the riders. At fourteen, he stood nearly as tall as Marcus and had his heart set on joining the militia under his brother’s command just as soon as he turned sixteen. Despite the worry it would one day bring, Kyrin took pride in her younger brothers’ passion. They knew the danger in it as well as anyone here, yet weren’t deterred.
“Speaking of the new recruits,” Kaden’s attention shifted to her, “are the uniforms ready?”
“I just finished them this morning.” She retrieved the two new, blue and gold uniforms from a nearby table.
Trask had come up with the idea for the uniforms after receiving an old Arcacian flag from General Mason in Samara. Kyrin and the other women had spent most of the winter outfitting Marcus’s one-hundred-fifteen-man militia and Kaden’s dragon riders in the original colors of Arcacia. Now, instead of a band of well-trained but mismatched woodsmen and farmers, they had a uniformed army that, though small, deserved respect.
She handed her twin the uniforms and admired for a moment how much he had matured in the last year. Stubble covered his chin and cheeks, partially hiding the scar left from his wound in Samara. He looked a lot like their father. His promotion to captain of the dragon riders last summer had burdened him with many uncertainties, but now he thrived on it. He certainly wasn’t the hotheaded, rebellious young man he was at Tarvin Hall. Though that was still a part of him, deep down, being captain had taught him responsibility and self-control. Their father would be very proud if he could see him. Kyrin made a mental note to tell him that later when they had a little privacy.
Jace sat in the sun near the edge of the camp with his wolf, Tyra, sprawled out at his side. Two days of sunshine were a rare thing this summer. The warmth of it soaked into his skin, relaxing him, though not quite as much as the words he read. Elon’s words. Kyrin and Timothy had made copies for him of everything they had heard Elon speak during their time in Samara. Everything he had missed out of fear. Thank Elôm for Kyrin’s perfect memory. Jace longed to go back and listen to the words himself, but as he read, he could almost hear Elon’s voice in his head. He couldn’t get enough of it and always looked forward to his daily study with Kyrin and Timothy.
Dragon wings briefly caught his attention, but many came and went during the day, flying between here and the other two camps that Trask had set up deeper in the forest. The words drew him in fully again until the next interruption, this time with footsteps. He looked up. Holden approached with an apologetic expression.
“Sorry. Trask has called a meeting. A messenger just arrived from Valcré. He also wants to discuss Balen’s latest messages.”
Gathering up his parchments, Jace rose and dropped them off in the cabin he and Holden now shared with several of the other men—quite an improvement over the previous small hut that had sheltered them over the winter. At the meeting hall, he paused and let Holden go ahead of him. Kyrin was just on her way from the Altair cabin, and Jace waited at the door to open it for her. As she passed through, she gave him the soft smile that never failed to delight him.
Inside, they found seats at a large table with all the other members of Trask’s council. The idea that Jace was even part of it still astounded him, yet he strove to offer whatever aid he could. He glanced around the table. Like all meetings lately, a heavy somberness hovered over the gathering.
With everyone present and seated, Trask began. “I called this meeting in part because I’ve received news from Valcré. Nothing significant, but it appears the Draicon Arena is scheduled for completion within a month. Daican intends to hold the first games there as part of his birthday celebration.”
Jace shifted in his chair, the mention of arenas triggering the bloody memories of his gladiator days, and chilly, invisible fingers slithered down his back. He forced the images away to focus on Trask’s voice.
“No doubt these so-called games will include mass executions of the believers that have been captured and imprisoned over the last couple of years.”
They all took the news grim-faced, and Trev asked, “Is there anything we can do?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe there is, but we must be prepared. Once Daican begins a public slaughter, we may have a sudden influx of refugees. Those who haven’t yet sought safety may now feel compelled to.”
Everyone agreed. With three camps now, they were better prepared to shelter a large number of people, but supplies would be their greatest concern. It would probably mean more hunting. Jace glanced at Kyrin. They hadn’t gone out in a long time, and he missed it. Surely, one of her brothers wouldn’t mind tagging along as a chaperone if he planned a hunting day with Kyrin.
He forced his mind back to the meeting. After all, he shouldn’t be so eager about his plans when so many were in grave peril. He silently asked forgiveness for allowing his thoughts of Kyrin to distract him from the plight of others.
By now, attention had turned to Balen, who brought up the messages from Samara.
“Nothing has changed,” he said, his expression drawn. “If anything, it has grown worse. People are slowly starving. Even some of the wealthy live like beggars under the emperor’s heavy taxation.” He sighed heavily. “I should be there with them. I’m doing them no good here.”
“Knowing you’re still alive gives the people hope,” Josef, Balen’s good friend and physician, told him. “That’s important.”
“Or they believe I’ve abandoned them to save myself. It’s been a year and we’ve been able to do nothing.”
Josef nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Some may think that, but not those who are truly loyal to you and know your character and integrity as a leader.”
“I only wish Elôm would show me how to help them.”
“He will,” Josef encouraged, “when the time is right.”
Balen accepted this with a nod, and Trask said, “We’ll know more once Sam returns from Arda. If he can convince the talcrins to join us, we’ll be in a much better position to face Daican. And hopefully Captain Darq will gain the full support of the cretes. Until then, I’m afraid, we’re powerless.”
Three days of sunshine were not to be wasted. Though a bit warm and humid, Anne and Elanor took the horses out right after breakfast with Elian to accompany them. The shade of the forest roads and paths offered the perfect relief from the heat. They talked and laughed, enjoying the time outdoors. Being cooped up day after day tended to make one gloomy, especially with all the bad news they received at camp. At least Anne had Elanor. Aside from the hardships of the past year, Anne greatly enjoyed her companionship.
“Well, I think you should just marry him and be done with it,” Elanor announced.
Anne wasn’t sure how the conversation had worked its way to Trask, but she laughed dryly. “I’m sure he’d be all for that.”
“Why don’t you marry him then?”
“Because I don’t think it would work just yet. He can’t come out of hiding, and if I were to run off with him, it could jeopardize the safety of my parents, not to mention you and Elian. Goler doesn’t need another reason to come snooping around.”
Elanor shrugged. “I still think you should do it.”
But Anne was adamant. So far, Goler had not looked too closely into their loyalties, no doubt due to his infatuation with her. As much as she loved Trask, they had to take great care with every move they made these days.
When they rode up to Marlton Hall at the end of their ride, Anne groaned. Several soldiers and horses milled about in front of her house. One riderless bay belonged to Captain Goler. This was precisely why they had to be so careful. If she were an ordinary farm girl, she could run off to the woods with little notice. Yet, if she up and disappeared, Goler wouldn’t just skulk back to the barracks to mope. He would do everything in his power to find her, and that search would start with her parents.
She grumbled under her breath. “Of course he would show up to spoil a lovely day.”
They rode up to the stable and left the horses with the stable boy. Anne glanced over her shoulder as they approached the house to make sure Elian had followed. He was so quiet, but having another strong male presence around usually kept Goler on his best behavior. Elian had a way of staring down disreputable men that made them squirm. And Goler deserved to squirm, considering how insistent he was on having her as his wife, regardless of her or her father’s objections.
When they reached the front door, Anne pulled her shoulders back as if preparing for battle. She stepped inside and scanned the large living and dining area. Goler sat in a chair near the cold fireplace, his legs stretched out in far too comfortable a manner. His dirty-blond hair hung in limp strands around his shoulders. He should cut it, or at least tie it back, but he apparently thought this made him more attractive. Anne barely held back an unladylike snort. It would take far more than a new hairstyle to make him attractive. A new heart would be at the top of the list.
Her father, Sir John, stood near the mantle, while her mother, Lady Catherine, hovered nearby. Anne caught her father’s eyes before her focus settled on the second chair facing Goler, this one also occupied by a man in black and gold.
The men rose as they approached, and her father stepped forward.
“Captain Dagren, allow me to introduce my daughter, Anne, and Lady Elanor, daughter of Sir Rothas Cantan. She’s been an extended guest in our home.”
The unfamiliar man eyed her and Elanor calculatingly. Though he matched Goler’s average height, he was only half as bulky. Gray streaked his jet-black hair around the temples and through his beard. While Anne always considered
Goler an arrogant brute, this man possessed a far more sophisticated, yet dangerous air. He seemed the sort who would shake your hand while stabbing you in the belly before you saw it coming. Though only armed with a sword, Anne wouldn’t be surprised to find a knife or two hidden in the folds of his uniform.
Dagren. His name echoed with familiarity in Anne’s mind, but it took another moment for it to sink in. Goose bumps rippled across her arms. This man had once sought to kill Rayad and Warin. No doubt he still had revenge on his mind.
Keeping her features schooled, she spoke demurely, “A pleasure to meet you, Captain.”
He merely nodded, his expression set like a grim sculpture.
“His Majesty sent Captain Dagren to aid in the search for the rebels,” Goler announced. “A couple are of particular interest to him.”
“Oh?” Anne replied, putting her best acting skills to use. After all these years of fending off Goler, she had become an expert.
“Indeed,” Dagren spoke at last, his voice refined, silky even, but icy enough to kill.
Another wave of prickles crawled along Anne’s skin. He seemed far too cultured and cunning for a simple military captain—probably a younger son of a noble or other highborn family—and wouldn’t be as easy to fool as Goler.
Anne’s father cleared his throat softly. “Won’t you all sit down? Tea will be prepared shortly.”
Anne stepped toward the couch and caught eyes with her father again. His expression said he agreed with her assessment that they would all have to tread carefully.
Elanor sat beside her, and Goler resumed his chair. Dagren, however, remained standing and sized up Elian, who had stationed himself behind them.
“Who is this?”
“Lady Elanor’s bodyguard,” Anne’s father answered.
Anne glanced up at Elian. He held Dagren’s gaze without a twitch. At last, the captain sank into his chair, blinking slowly like a drowsy but watchful predator. However, when his gaze landed on Anne, it was anything but sleepy.
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 2
