by Kyra Dune
Freedom. This was the one thing she wanted more than anything else. Freedom to do and live as she pleased. The kind of freedom which cost a lot to buy. Her future was what she was really stealing here in the Wild Lands. Not some tablet from some temple, but a chance at a fresh start. Whatever she had to live through until then, whatever she had to sacrifice, it was worth it. Even if it was something which wasn’t really hers to sacrifice in the first place.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cole raised the blade from the water and laid it out on the table. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Forge work was hot and tiresome, but he found a certain peace in helping to mold and shape bladed weapons he didn’t feel at any other activities in his life.
Apprentices moved about, doing the menial work neither he nor Sean had the time for. A crowd had gathered to watch, as much to stare at the brothers as anything else. The stares were something Cole had grown used to in the years since he and Sean came to live in Marigold. Their height alone would have marked them out in a land where anyone who stood over six feet was an oddity, but combine that with the coal black color of their skin and they turned heads wherever they went.
Peaceful as the routine was, Cole soon found his thoughts wandering, as they often did, to Kat. He could still see the look in her eyes when he’d turned down her offer of joining in on her latest job. A dangerous job, it sounded like, and he would have liked to be there to have her back. But he was needed here and he couldn’t step out on his brother, even for Kat.
Cole called an apprentice over to take the blade, and then stepped out behind the forge, where a little bench sat beneath a shade tree. It was a fine place to take a rest until his thoughts were more firmly on his current task. A man who couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing in a forge was a man who would soon find himself in serious trouble.
Sitting on the bench, he drew himself a cup of water from the nearby barrel. The last time he’d sat there with Kat she’d been in good spirits despite a long stretch in the Dells. Now she was off in the Wild Lands, which he doubted would suite her any better. Off with Jesse. Cole had no doubt she was still in love with the man and only wished, for her sake, Jesse felt the same. It seemed to him the man didn’t even know the meaning of the concept.
Maybe it was foolish of him to worry over her heart when her life was at stake, but he couldn’t help himself. Going up against a Magus was insanity and it wouldn’t help if she was too busy worrying over Jesse to take care of herself. They had no magic on their side and though Ethan was a dead shot, he wasn’t sure it would be enough. He was worried and try as he might he couldn’t put the idea that Kat might not come back this time out of his mind.
Sometimes, as now, he would find himself regretting not going with her. Sometimes he even thought of jumping on a horse and racing after her. But of course to do so would be foolish. He could never hope to catch up before they reached the temple. He wouldn’t even know the way.
Besides, his brother would never forgive him. Sean needed him, not only at the forge, but in case they were called upon for the rebellion which had been brewing over the past two years. Cole almost wished something would happen soon. At least it would take his mind off Kat. But they were waiting to see who won the crown, per the orders of Duke Victor Lassard. Sean might consider himself the rebellion’s leader, but he still took his orders from the Duke.
As if Cole didn’t have enough on his mind worrying over Kat, he also had to worry over what Sean might do if the Duke chose to put an end to the rebel movement he had started. He might do it too, if Lord Charles took the crown. With Duke Victor backing the man it hardly seemed reasonable he would want him overthrown.
Sean wasn’t loud about it so most people didn’t know, but he was highly ambitious. Always had been. He had no desire to spend the rest of his life in the forge, oh no. He wanted to be somebody. Somebody important. His part in the rebellion thus far had given him a taste of that and it wasn’t something he would easily turn loose of if the Duke chose to back out on them.
It was a lot for one man to have hanging over his head all at once and not a thing he could do about any of it. The people he loved most were in danger and he couldn’t aid them. It left him with a feeling of helplessness, of being pulled along by events rather than affecting them, as he was sadly accustomed to.
It had been this way for so long as he could remember. Constantly pulled along in his brother’s wake, he had often found himself with no control even over his own life. And despite having become a mercenary in order to separate himself from his brother, he had never really found that control. Probably never would so long as Sean was alive.
Sean had ever been the center of his own universe. Ever the sort to do whatever best suited him without the ability to understand his actions had an effect on others. Marrying Lauren and fathering the twins hadn’t changed him, as Kat hadn’t been able to change Jesse. They were much alike, these two men who had never gotten along and who on the surface had nothing in common. Both were too caught up in themselves to really see those around them.
Such men were bound to self destruct eventually. He’d always known it would be this way for Sean. Jesse too, if he continued on the way he was. The only question was whether they would take down the people who loved them when they did.
CHAPTER NINE
Brandon trailed after the rest of the group, idly flipping a dagger into the air and catching it as he walked. He found he was not enjoying the trek through these strange and gloomy woods as much as he thought he would. It was boring. He missed his mare, Blue Bell, who had been left behind at the Death Dealer temple. And he missed Jesse. A man he genuinely liked even if the feeling wasn’t mutual. He was beginning to wish he’d stepped out of this not-so-grand adventure when he’d had the chance.
When those creatures first appeared he’d hoped they were in for a fight, but no, the critters simply turned tail and ran off without a fuss. And nothing interesting had happened since. Everyone else was so tense, as if they were expecting an attack at any moment. If only. He wished something would happen. Anything. If not something violent, then at least something interesting.
A shriek cut through the silence, followed closely by the appearance of an incredibly large bird with blazing red feathers. It came swooping down at them from practically nowhere, sending most of the group scattering off the trail.
Not Nephima though. She leapt straight up, caught hold of an overhanging tree branch, and swung her legs forward to connect soundly with the bird’s beak, knocking it sideways into a tree. It fell to the earth in a crumpled heap.
Nephima dropped to her feet beside Brandon. He grinned at her. “Impressive. I’m not sure even I could have pulled off such a trick.”
“You’re not an elf.” She drew her katana and strode toward the bird.
Brandon followed, as eager to see what she might do next as he was to get a closer look at the bird.
“What is it, Reaper?” Selene asked as she and the others gathered in not too close behind them.
“Many strange beasts reside in this land,” Reaper said. “I do not know all their names.”
One of the bird’s eyes popped open, prompting a scream from Anastasia, who was clinging to Simon like a drowning person to a lifeline. “It’s not dead.”
“Hello, there.” Brandon crouched down to look the bird in the eye. Its beak was razor sharp and could no doubt slice clean through a person. Fascinating. “You’re an awfully big bird.”
“Don’t talk to it,” Selene snapped. “Kill it and be done. We don’t have time for standing around.”
“Oh, no, we can’t kill it.” Brandon said, maintaining eye contact with the bird. The beast gazed back at him with more intelligence than was generally credited to winged things.
“What do you mean, we can’t kill it?” Selene was giving him one of those looks he received when he did something other people didn’t understand. Which was rather often.
“We startled her,” he said, risin
g. “She’s only protecting her territory like anybody would do. We can’t kill her for that. Besides, she’s defenseless at the moment. Killing her would be murder. I’m many things, but a murderer is not among them.”
“Are you serious?” Selene asked. “You’re an assassin. Killing defenseless people is your job. Are you telling me you have more consideration for the life of this... creature, than you do that of a person?”
Brandon grinned. “Yes.”
Selene threw up her hands in disgust. “I give up. Reaper, he’s one of yours. See if you can talk some sense into him.”
Reaper turned away. “Leave the bird. It hardly matters.”
“It hardly matters?” Selene asked. “What if it comes after us when it recovers? Reaper!” But he was already moving off down the path.
“We shouldn’t let him get too far ahead,” Simon said. “He’s the only one who knows his way around this place.”
Selene scowled. “Nephima, you kill the bird.”
Nephima slid her katana back into place. “I think we best leave the bird be.”
Brandon could not have been more pleased. Generally people only sided with him out of fear, but not Nephima. If she was afraid of anything it certainly wouldn’t be him. For a moment he wondered if Selene was going to press the issue. Either because she truly was afraid the bird might attack again, or because she was a higher power and felt as if she had some authority over them. But she didn’t. She simply turned and walked away, quickly followed by Simon, Anastasia, and the taciturn Lorn.
Once the others were out of earshot, Nephima glanced down at the bird. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” Brandon said. “But then, I’m rarely sure about the things I do.” He grinned. “Makes life so much more exciting.”
CHAPTER TEN
Never in his life had Ethan ever imagined he would find himself sitting in a tub full of goat milk. He couldn’t imagine how one could truly clean themselves this way, but then the wildlings were a rough lot with their hides and tattoos, so he supposed he should count himself lucky to be able to bathe at all.
Not that Nika was unpleasant to look at, even with a snake tattooed on her face. But he dare not pursue her, as he normally would, because of Jesse. If it came to blows he would, of course, have to kill the man. Which would make both Kat and Manny extremely upset and no doubt he’d end up having to kill them too, leaving him to make his way to the temple on his own. Which wouldn’t be so bad if not for Clarissa.
His companions had no hope of stealing the tablet from her, but perhaps they could provide enough distraction for him to do so. If it was even worth the trip. No proof was offered up that the tablet could be used to prevent the Cataclysm. All he had was rumor.
If the world was about to end then he ought to be laid up in a fancy house somewhere with a bevy of beauties to attend to his every need, not stuck out here at the edge of the desert in a tub of tepid milk.
“Playing hero is even more miserable than I imagined,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll be glad enough when all this is over and I can return to my proper role as a villain.” Of course, if the realms were all destroyed then he wouldn’t have anyone to play the villain with.
Which was exactly why he was here in the first place. He liked the lesser realm. Always had. And he liked humans. They were so much more fun to play with than his fellow higher powers. It would be a pity to see them all wiped away. It would make life so boring.
If only he could save the world without getting so dirty. He scooped up two handfuls of milk and dumped them over the top of his head. It dripped down his cheeks, some even finding its way into his mouth. Fine wine it was not. He turned his head to the side and spat, thinking to himself things couldn’t possibly get much worse.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Anger boiled inside Richard. He wanted to lash out. To strike something. And so he backhanded his latest plaything out of the bed. The sound of her hitting the floor with a small cry didn’t make him feel any better. Not even a romp had helped to ease the tension he’d felt since discovering Charles had come to the castle.
The girl tried to crawl away as Richard slid off the bed. He kicked her soundly in the side and she curled into a ball, pressing her face into the rug. He would have preferred to aim his blows at his cursed, interfering cousin.
Charles had not yet approached the High Priest nor announced his reasons for coming, but Richard knew. The man intended to steal the crown. Richard’s crown, which belonged to him by right of birth no matter what his father had believed. Nobody was going to take that right from him, certainly not Charles DeHaviland.
He was so close to having everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he deserved. A crown, Anastasia for his own, and at last a chance to repay Charles for humiliating him. He could not bear to lose it all now when it was almost within his grasp. Charles was going to try and ruin everything. And he might manage it too.
A red haze descended across Richard’s vision as he stared down at the girl. He bent over and grasped her long hair, then dragged her into the sitting room. He couldn’t take out his anger on those who sought to wrong him. Charles. That damnable Duke. His bitch of a stepmother. But a servant girl made a handy if less satisfying substitute.
Richard pulled the girl to her feet and punched her in the face. Blood spurted as the bones in her nose snapped. She screamed, clawing at his wrist. Her nails were sharp points of pain in his flesh. He slammed her against the wall one, two, three times, then released her. She crumpled to the floor.
It didn’t help. She wasn’t the one he wanted crying and bleeding and begging him for mercy. “Get up,” Richard prodded her with his foot. “Get up and get out. You disgust me.”
She only whimpered. Richard hauled her up by the arm and flung her against the door. Before she could collapse again, he grasped the back of her neck, opened the door, and shoved her into the hall. She stumbled into the far wall.
Richard slammed the door shut so he wouldn’t have to hear or look at her any longer. He paced, clenching and flexing his hands, for how long he wasn’t sure. His mind was consumed with thoughts of killing Charles. If only he dared.
When the door to his chambers opened unexpectedly, Richard spun around with the full intention of unleashing his pent up fury on whoever dared to intrude upon his privacy. But when he saw his sister in the doorway he missed a step.
Daniella pushed the door shut and strode across the room until they stood only inches apart. “Are you a complete and total idiot?”
Richard’s lips parted but no reply came to mind. So instead he only glared at her as fiercely as he could manage. But of course she wasn’t intimidated, which only made him angrier. So angry a throbbing had started up in the back of his head.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She stepped past him into the bedroom. “After what you’ve done I have a right to ask the question.” When she returned, she was carrying his robe. “Put this on. Have some decency.”
“This is my own room.” He snatched the robe from her hands. “If I wish to wander about unclothed, it’s no concern of yours. You should have knocked.”
“I should have knocked? Have you taken complete leave of your senses? What did you think you were about tossing a naked, bloody girl out of your room with the High Priest only two halls down?”
With a savage jerk, Richard twisted the belt of the robe around his waist. “What I do is none of your business.”
“It most certainly is my business when your lack of self control threatens your chance at the crown,” Daniella said. “You will not ruin all of my hard work now, when we’re so close to victory.”
Richard’s hand curled into a fist. How he longed to hit her in her harpy mouth and prove she was no different from any other woman.
Daniella glanced down at his fist and laughed. “Oh, so you want to hit me now? Go ahead. I’d like to see you win the throne without my help.”
With a growl, he paced away to face the fireplace. “I don’t
want to talk to you right now.”
“This is about Charles, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s about Charles! It’s always about Charles.” He grabbed a crystal vase from the mantle and flung it against the wall speckled with the servant girl’s blood. “It will always be about Charles so long as he breathes.”
Daniella shook her head. “So he humiliated you once. It was ages ago. We were children. You need to move on and grow up.”
Richard breathed heavily through his nose. Daniella didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. She was a woman and so knew nothing of honor and pride. Of how it would be for a man to see his own son covered in mud and blood and tears. To decide he could never have fathered such a pathetic weakling. Charles had not only humiliated him on that day, he had taken away the only thing which can truly matter to a boy. His father’s respect. Charles had shown as the stronger of the two and from then onward, Robert had treated Richard as nothing and cast all his favor on another man’s son.
“How can you stand there so calm?” he asked. “You know as well as I why he’s come.”
“Of course. Our dear cousin intends to make an attempt at stealing the crown for himself. Your own fault for so foolishly demanding Ana’s hand in marriage when I told you to wait,” Daniella said. “But no matter. I’ll take this matter under my control as I always have.”
“What will you do?” he asked, “Poison him?” The idea of Charles wasting away in agony as their father had was not displeasing. Of course, he would have preferred to torture him first by means of Anastasia, but he supposed if he had no other choice he could manage to put such thoughts of revenge aside.
“Of course not,” Daniella said in that infuriatingly superior tone of hers. “Tongues would wag were he to die as Father did. Already there are those who suspect his illness was not entirely natural. We shall perhaps not be so subtle this time.”
