Keira yawned and rubbed her cheek. “What time is it?”
“Still early,” Jarlath said. “I should com Ellard.”
Keira grunted and rolled out of Jarlath’s arms. She massaged her face again, a weird itchy sensation irritating her skin. “Are you going back to the city?”
“It depends on what Ellard says, but I’d like to. I don’t feel right hiding out here or in my suite at the castle.”
Keira scratched her cheek. “I want to go too. I need to protect my employees.” She also needed to visit the magic man to get a stronger protection charm and a spell to repulse and maybe a special spell to destroy her half-brother if the opportunity arose. The idea of Razvan popping into her home whenever it suited made her gut bounce and jump like a yearling malpack full of hijinks. If Razvan learned she was intimate with Jarlath, she wasn’t sure how he’d react since he’d never made a secret of his perverted desires.
In Razvan’s mind, she belonged to him.
Razvan had arranged an alibi and persuaded two of his friends and a senior House of the Cawdor official to lie for him and tell everyone she had sought him out and offered her body. If her mother hadn’t intervened…
Lies! And she knew her half-brother. With no one to rein him in, he was capable of worse behavior.
The spells were the logical way to fight him.
Magic with magic.
Jarlath rolled out of bed and picked up his trews. He retrieved his com and called Ellard. “How are things?”
Keira watched Jarlath while he listened to Ellard. He’d held her throughout the night, even though she’d effectively called a halt on more sex. Not many men would accept her wishes. If she’d had a tantrum like that with Marcus…well, things would have turned out differently. No, the situation wouldn’t have happened with her husband because she’d always gone out of the way to acquiesce with Marcus. Part of it was because he’d saved her from a terrible situation and certain death, so she’d tried her hardest to make her husband happy. But with Jarlath—a man of power…
What was it with Jarlath that made her stand up for herself?
Flying stars, something must have bitten her cheek during the night. She rubbed vigorously at the itchy spot and decided she might as well rise. She was dressed by the time Jarlath finished his call.
“What’s happening in the city?”
“More unrest. More looting. More violence. The soldiers have control of parts of the city but there are pockets of resistance. Mostly in the lower city.”
“Looting? I hope my factory employees are safe.”
“If they’re sensible, your people will remain in their homes. I’m going into the city. Ellard didn’t want me to, but these are my people. I can’t cower and ignore trouble in the city.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, it’s not safe. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Obtaining the correct spells was imperative, not that she could confess her reasons to Jarlath without creating a trouble storm. “I can’t hide at the farm and do nothing either, not while my employees are in trouble. Some of them have children and I can offer them sanctuary.” A good excuse, although she was sure her employees were safer than most since the factory was on the outskirts of the city in the agricultural belt.
“What if the trouble spreads from the city into the country?”
Keira pictured Razvan’s head floating on the flames in her fireplace. Trouble had already arrived at her farm, and she needed a spell to keep her half-brother away. Jarlath wouldn’t understand, would start to suspect her motives. No, it was best if she kept this information private.
She met his gaze. “I will go with you or by myself once you leave. Either way, I intend to visit the city.”
Jarlath cursed. “What if you get hurt or worse?”
“That is my problem.”
“Mine too,” he muttered and drew her into his arms. He gave her a hard hug before he pushed back a fraction to kiss her. His kiss was hot and hungry and let her know of his desire. The hard press of his erection against her belly reinforced this truth.
Something tight in her chest released at the possessiveness of his kiss. After her temper last eve, she’d thought things might be uncomfortable between them. Her crow stirred, and she welcomed the once foreign sensation because her existence seemed to act as an emotional balance. Her mind was clearer, at least until Jarlath bestowed his kiss. She gripped his shoulders for balance and poured herself into the exchange. Their tongues met, explored, twirled. He nipped her bottom lip and soothed the sting with his tongue. Sensations poured through her—a sense of belonging, the desire to give, and heady, heady pleasure.
When Jarlath ended their kiss, they were both short of breath.
Unable to resist touching him, she smoothed his black hair from his face to reveal his strong jaw. His stubble prickled beneath her fingertips as she met his passion-heavy gaze. “I thought you’d be angry at me.”
“No,” he said. “We’re learning each other, and sometimes we, me in this case, might misstep. It’s part of a relationship.”
Happiness suffused her but a slash of fear quashed the feeling before she became too euphoric. Razvan…she shook her head in an attempt to loosen the memory of her half-brother’s taunts.
You will belong to me. I will have you.
She shook her head again. “Is that what we have? A relationship?”
Jarlath frowned, so swiftly the expression faded before she decoded his body language. “We’re friends, and since I don’t have many friends, you’re very special.”
A tactful reply, but they both knew the truth. No matter how much she hated the idea, this was a fleeting friendship. Best she enjoy the perks while she had the chance.
“Do we have time to break our fast before we fly into the city?”
“I don’t want you to go.” Jarlath scowled. “I can’t change your mind?”
“No. Besides, you’ll have to use my flymo. Ellard flew back in yours.”
He started to speak and stopped, his brow furrowing. A heavy sigh lifted his broad shoulders. He stepped away and stretched before scratching his back. “We might as well have something to eat and wait until the solar star rises. That way we can see the damage.”
After eating and issuing Hortese, Hilda and Melvyn instructions, she and Jarlath left for the city. Plumes of smoke rose in the distance, vision becoming murky once they cleared the city walls.
“I thought Ellard told you the soldiers were on patrol. I can’t see any. No one stopped us or attempted to search our flymo.” Keira peered through the black smoke and scratched her cheek. A few figures, singly or in small groups, darted from building to building. None of them lingered, and they carried bulging bags, which marked them as looters. “There’s no security on the ground either.”
“You’re right. Lots of looters and no soldiers.”
“Where are we meeting Ellard?”
“He thinks I intend to follow his orders and cower in safety at your farm.”
“I see. You’d better call him. He didn’t tell you the truth when he spoke with you earlier. Either that or he doesn’t know how dire the situation is out here.”
Jarlath reached over to squeeze her hand, before he pulled out his com. A smile curved his lips, his mood appearing buoyant even though the situation was dire. Maybe she made him happy. The idea made her happier.
“What’s going on, Ellard? Where are the soldiers? They’re not guarding the walls or attempting to quell disorder in the parts of the city we’re flying over.”
“I told you not to return,” Ellard snapped.
“I don’t have to follow your orders,” Jarlath retorted, a hint of regal arrogance creeping into his voice. “Where are you?”
“Within the castle with the rest of the soldiers,” Ellard said. “We can’t get out. There’s some sort of magical barrier enclosing the castle and none of us can exit. The barrier is impossible to break, and prolonged exposure bites with an electrical
shock.”
“Damn, we should have brought the protection spells with us,” Keira said. “I never thought of it.”
Her concern had been for her staff. At least they’d remain safe from Razvan’s power since she’d insisted they wear a charm on their person at all times. Hortese had asked probing questions until finally agreeing, and she’d promised Keira she’d make sure the others wore the protection. One less thing to worry about.
“Who’s with you?” Ellard demanded.
“Keira. We’ll come to the castle. Meet us at the secret exit. Maybe we can break you out.”
“I have to find a magic shop. Preferably the one owned by the man who made the protection spells we purchased in the square. Maybe he has a spell that can beat Razvan’s wizards.” The words burst from Keira along with a sense of relief. She’d been racking her brain for a way to slip the request into their conversation. If Jarlath would let her go off alone…but she doubted he’d accept her need without asking some serious questions.
“What do you know of wizards? How do you know they’re Razvan’s?” Ellard asked in a sharp tone.
Jarlath’s gaze held suspicion too, and her crow beat her wings in agitation.
“I-I assumed it must be m-magic.” She squeezed her hands to fists and forced herself to meet Jarlath’s gaze with directness. “The spells we purchased in the market made us immune. The barrier around the castle has all the makings of magic. Doesn’t it?” A faint note of pleading came into her words. “It was a logical assumption. There were crows in the sky.”
Jarlath noted her agitation and his feline picked up on her apprehension, reacting with an uneasy bark. Do something. He disconnected the call with Ellard, considered the facts and came up with the sensible conclusion. “You think the House of Cawdor is responsible, not a third party. This use of magic from afar is an innovative means of attack.”
“A new leader always wants to make his mark.” Keira scratched her cheek so hard she left red marks with her nails. Shards of black swirled within the red.
Peculiar. Jarlath checked the skies in front. Clear. He switched to auto and reached out to catch her chin with his fingers. He turned her face and studied her cheek.
“What?” Her laugh was uneasy.
“What have you done to your face?”
She frowned. “No idea. It’s itchy.”
Jarlath caught a flash in his peripheral vision. The flymo shuddered, the secondary seats clacking against the walls of the vehicle. He lunged for the auto and took control again, sending the vehicle into a rapid zigzag pattern.
“Flash bombs,” Keira shouted. “Watch out. There’s another one.”
Jarlath zapped into vertical lift but the flymo rose at a sluggish pace. “Grata! The flash bomb has damaged the circuitry.” Someone lobbed another flash in their direction and it came fast and strong. “Up, grata! Up.”
The flymo shuddered and lifted at the last sec, the bright flare of the bomb coming close enough to sear his retinas. White light filled his sight, blinding him to everything until he flew by instinct alone.
Keira gasped. “Left. Go left. It’s okay. They missed. I think we’ve passed the firing zone. Can we make the castle?”
The flymo vibrated and whined, fighting every manual control he attempted. “I’ll try.”
Without warning, the engine stuttered, died. Absolute silence filled the cab. Jarlath pushed the starter. Nothing. The flymo dropped, his stomach diving to catch up. Keira cried out. His hands moved frantically over the controls, pushing buttons, pulling levers. Nothing stalled their uncontrolled fall.
“Hold tight,” he gritted out. “We’re going down.”
“The ECL button.” Keira gripped a handhold. “Use the emergency controlled landing.”
“What?”
“The red button. Push the red button!”
Jarlath stabbed the ECL and their drop slowed. A sharp hiss had him jerking back from the instrument panel.
“Airbags,” Keira said. “An old solution but it works in a flymo.”
The flymo struck the ground, bounced. Once. Twice. The collision reverberated through his body, pain a dagger in his torso. Metal shrieked against cobblestones. The flymo left the ground, struck again, much harder and rolled.
His harness gave. He lurched forward. His head struck the controls. Black crowded his vision, and the last thing he recalled was another spine-cracking bounce.
The snarl of his feline, an impatient growl, brought him back. He shook his head, winced, and tested his limbs. Grata. His head hurt. He dragged in a deep breath, recoiled at the shot of pain at his temple.
He sniffed.
Blood.
He turned his head. Couldn’t see much apart from the safety bags.
Keira.
He sucked in another breath, the tang of blood obtrusive, feeding his panic.
Jarlath fought the puffy airbag, shoving it from his body to free himself.
“Keira.”
“I’m here,” she croaked. “I’m okay. I can smell…you’re bleeding. Your head.”
Jarlath brushed off her concern, instinct propelling him to hurry. “I’m all right. Let’s get out of here before someone comes to investigate.”
Keira pulled a knife from her boot and hacked at the airbag. She soon had them free, and Jarlath hobbled from the wreck. Keira paused to grab her bag and she slung it over her shoulder so both arms were free.
The image of Keira with the knife in her hand kept reverberating through his brain. “I didn’t see that coming, but I like your foresight. Do you have other weapons secreted on your person?”
“Of course. There are times when I need to protect myself. Let me look at your wound.”
Voices had his head jerking, his pained gaze darting along the road and the narrow lane branching off it. Every feline instinct went on high alert. “We have to move. Now.” Jarlath grabbed her hand and started running. His head went thump, thump, thump and pushed misery down his neck in jagged shards.
A masculine shout came from behind, and Jarlath lengthened his strides. Dressed as he was, he didn’t think anyone would recognize him, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with Keira’s safety.
She kept up easily and glanced back. “It’s all right. They’ve stopped to ransack the flymo. They’re not chasing us. Which way to the castle?”
Cristo. “I don’t recognize any of these streets.”
“I think we’re still in the lower city.”
They rounded a corner, dodged a pile of rubble, some of it still glowing with heat. Smoke filled his lungs, obscured his vision. Keira never slowed, skirting the larger obstacles and leaping over others. The road widened and flattened to a zero incline.
“This looks like one of the main roads that lead to the square,” she said.
Jarlath squelched the inadequacy filling him, and concentrated on Keira’s words. A glance either way yielded no clues. “Which way? Do we keep going this direction or risk sneaking back past the flymo?”
“Fifty-fifty decision,” Keira said. “If we follow this road, we might be able to see the castle and orientate ourselves.” She scratched her cheek. “What do you think?”
“This way then. We can always backtrack. How much is my head bleeding now?”
“Let me have a quick look.”
“Keira, your face.”
She touched her fingertips to her cheek. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“Grata.” Alarm pummeled his chest, blocked his throat. He swallowed hard. This wasn’t good. “You have a tattoo on your cheek.” The damn lump swelled to obstruct his words. Another gulp cleared the blockage. “It’s similar to the ones some of the women have here.”
She frowned. “A cat? But how—”
“It’s a crow.”
The healthy green fled her cheeks leaving her visage ashen. Her hand flew to her cheek, her fingertips tracing across the spot. “This is going to cause problems.”
An understatement. “Yeah.”
&n
bsp; “One problem at a time. Let me look at your head.”
He stepped closer and gentle fingers probed his wound. The scent of blood wasn’t as bad now, although the bang, clang, bang continued playing in his head like a band out of tune.
“It’s not bleeding much now. A shallow wound. I’ll doctor you up once we get to the castle.”
“Thanks.” Jarlath winced and not because of the pain. They’d have to hide her tattoo because the locals would act first and ask questions later. This put her in danger and him by association. “You’ll have to rub some soot over your face. Yeah, that’s a bit better.”
He’d worry about the reason for the tattoo later, when they weren’t in such a hurry. Jarlath seized her hand, unsure of why he needed the contact, yet obeying instinct anyway. His feline purred and the loud rumble joined the musical band in his head. They hurried around a dry-food store, burst ration packs littering the road. Next door, a giant replicator sat half on the road and half in the store. It had been too large for the looters to move. No doubt they’d be back with reinforcements because a replicator like this was valuable.
At the end of the road, they paused to orientate themselves.
“There,” Keira said, puffing in fatigue.
Jarlath was relieved to see the castle. This was his city, by grata, and he wouldn’t repeat his mistake. Once they’d sorted this mess, he intended to follow through on his plan. He’d acquaint himself with the city and their people. All of his people, no matter what their station.
“This way,” he said. “We’ll go through the gardens and around the back.”
“Wait.” Keira tugged on his hand. “Someone is coming.”
Jarlath heard them too. They flattened against the wall of the nearest building, and two men ran past, both bearing weapons.
Jarlath caught his breath, tension bleeding through him and forming claws at his fingertips. The men would see them if they looked back. He had to keep Keira safe. Please don’t look. Don’t look.
His breath hissed between his teeth when the men rounded the corner, disappearing into one of the narrow lanes intersecting the main road.
Keira’s fingers relaxed in his. “Which way to the gardens you mentioned?”
Claimed & Seduced Page 12
