The Price of Survival (Journey of an Arbais Mage Book 2)

by Meagan Hurst

  “It gives me something to do.”

  “It will possibly end up getting you killed.”

  “That is part of the thrill.”

  “You are impossible.”

  Z winced at his tone. “This is my first reaction to comments when I am nervous, Midestol. I really can’t just turn it off—not without effort.”

  “Ah, I am making you nervous?”

  “If you try to tell me you’re not at all concerned about this, I will tell you now that I sat behind you all day today—your words have no weight. I have never seen you sit so straight and stiff.”

  Another laugh that had no threat emerged. “Alright, you win. This is probably equally upsetting for both of us. But will you try to refrain from provoking me?”

  She inclined her head as a reply, but he fell silent as well. It was a long silence. “So, I have my mother’s interest in weapons …?”

  He sighed and managed a nod before sending a small amount of power to cause the fire to grow. “I will say she considered it more of a game, for you it’s a way of life. And not just because you were forced into it, but because it’s in you. She became gifted with weapons yes, but hers wasn’t a true talent—yours is. If you had never had even a single lesson you would still be a formidable foe; Lianneta could only gain most of her skills through training.”

  “You allowed her to continue …?”

  “When I was finally informed of what she was doing, yes. I could see her skill with the sword, bow, and staff. And I could see the joy she found in her training. I know you will not find this believable, but while I would have preferred a son, I did love my daughter, Zimliya. I did, however, request that she take private lessons. I believe the master I placed her with is the man who introduced her to your father. In the beginning their meetings were entirely professional—each knew who the other was, and each wanted to best the other. Of course, given the way things ended up, they clearly didn’t stay professional for long.”

  Z chuckled softly. “Yeah, well neither did Nicklyn and I.”

  “You never had sex with him, and you managed to kill him in the end. I would have preferred the same outcome between Lianneta and Kevei.”

  As she wouldn’t have been born, Z wasn’t sure she had an unbiased opinion, so she remained quiet for a few minutes. “You could have killed the prince early on.”

  “You really do have a problem. You haven’t once attached the family title to either one of your parents, or to me, since we started talking.” As this was true Z merely shrugged, and Midestol shook his head in mock disgust, although it was possible some of it was true emotion. “Yes, I could have killed your father, but I admit I was foolishly curious to see if Lianneta was better than Kevei. It was a thing of pride. I couldn’t touch his father, but if my daughter managed to kill his son, it would have been as if I had killed him.”

  That logic was easy enough to follow. “And if things had ended differently, all of us would have been living on your lands?”

  “You would have entered weapons classes alongside your magic lessons the moment I felt you wouldn’t kill yourself or someone else—granted, someone else would have been a minor concern—accidentally.”

  She blinked. “I’m female.”

  “So was Lianneta. Besides that, in the grand scheme of things you would have been too much of a talent and a power to let sit on the sidelines over something as foolish as the fact you weren’t born male.”

  Chapter 16

  It was past midnight when Z slipped out of the camp again. Midestol was going over figures and other information pertaining to the war, and she had had all the personal information she could handle from his conversations right now. Being in the tent he had created while he discussed matters regarding the war she wasn’t allowed to take part in only made it harder for her to forget who he was—and who she was. If she planned to form any kind of positive relationship with the man she needed to not be around him while he was planning to go to war with the races she had sworn to protect.

  Races she wasn’t helping now. Pausing once she was a good mile from the site, she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She hated this. She wanted to be fighting—helping—and instead she was traveling with a man she felt she wanted nothing to do with after spending months being unable to assist her allies due to her condition. If she had to have company, she would have preferred company of a different kind, and—she hated to admit it—she really wanted Nivaradros’s presence. Opening her eyes, she inhaled at a steady pace and glanced around her location intently. She could, she knew, move herself to the Dragon’s side and then come back before morning. She was tempted to do just that.

  Crilyne? she called softly as she opened the communication channel she shared with the Shade.

  You are going to get the Dragon to try my patience, the Shade informed her in a tone that managed to be amused and exasperated at the same time.

  Uh oh, what is the Dragon up to?

  Every single time I move and he notices—and movement, by the way, means everything from blinking to breathing—he demands to know if you said something. Since so far you haven’t said anything, it has been slightly hard to convince him of the fact without killing him. He misses you, or he is concerned Midestol will kill you and his plans will unravel. I am not certain which one it is, but both possibilities make him unbearable.

  She apologized, but found the desire to visit the Dragon—and everyone else while she was there—was almost overpowering. How is the battle going?

  Well, the Dragon is an asset there. He and Veilantras have probably single-wingedly saved a good third of the army. Nivaradros is quite the magic user. I don’t think even Veilantras expected it. From what she said in the meeting he absented himself from this evening, I have a feeling she thinks he is still holding back on us.

  She was positive he was, but she didn’t even let the thought cross over to the Shade. Who’s dead?

  No one important—Well, everyone’s important to you, but none of the rulers or heirs have fallen. Nivaradros is slightly protective of those you care about. People may start to like him. How goes immortality?

  I loathe it with a passion that you cannot describe.

  Sounds like it’s going well then. How are you otherwise?

  I can’t do this, she told the Shade finally. I cannot just pretend like Midestol and I will get along after everything he’s put me through, and everything I’ve been through on my own.

  She felt Crilyne’s concern and then his solution. It would have been easy to override him before he could speak, but she knew he hated it, and she wasn’t in enough of a bad mood that she wanted to share it yet.

  Come here for a few hours then. Spend time with Nivaradros, but no one else. Everyone is eager for your return, but the three of us who know about your recent recovery and transformation aren’t sure that excitement will last once they know what you have become.

  And what have I become, precisely?

  What you should have been born as.

  Disapproval over her disgust emerged, but Crilyne didn’t push her. Of all the immortals, mortals, and those past both states—the Shades, the Wraiths, and the Guardians—Crilyne knew her best. He understood why she was the way she was intimately, thanks to this bond and over a decade and a half of working with her. His disapproval was therefore layered with compassion.

  Zimliya, will you pull away from the Dragon now as well?

  She reacted as if she had been slapped. Exhaling sharply, she cursed the Shade thoroughly for several minutes. It’s that obvious?

  When we are talking like this it is, or should I say when we are speaking like this and you decided to let me read more into your thoughts and emotions. You are oddly open tonight. Normally I feel like I am speaking with a brick wall.

  Thanks, Z replied sourly.

  You are most welcome, but I was being serious, Zimliya. You have the best defenses mentally of anyone I know, and you are letting me in on purpose. Why?

  Because I don’t
trust myself to think logically at the moment.

  So stop trying to think logically and think illogically for a moment instead.

  She wanted to hit him. I am not sure I can manage that either.

  Amusement again. Z, come here, Crilyne said finally in a soft and supportive tone. I have a tent—the Dragon doesn’t—and I cannot risk having you walk around the encampment. You are supposed to be recovering from your attempt to leave the world forever, so having you walk around in fine condition wouldn’t really support that white lie.

  Growling under her breath, Z got a lock on Crilyne’s location and used the shadows to cross. When she emerged in his tent—with no long random walk for once—she found the Shade watching her calmly. His black eyes followed her movements keenly, but he didn’t immediately speak.

  “Now what?!” she demanded in exasperation.

  “You should take up the Islierre on his training. Not now, but later,” Crilyne told her softly before inclining his head to her with true respect. “And I will go fetch your Dragon.”

  “He is not my Dragon!”

  “As you say.”

  She paced the length of the tent once the Shade was gone and she was stuck with waiting for his return or leaving. Since leaving meant the Shade would be stuck with a very irritated Dragon, Z determinedly forced her mind away from that option. Instead she turned her attention to the tent; the Shade rarely requested one. As she swept the tent with her eyes, Z’s mood soured. Judging by the fact that Crilyne had touched very little—and gotten a bed he didn’t need—she had a feeling he had asked for the tent after Nivaradros had declined one.

  “Bastard.”

  “I certainly hope that wasn’t directed at me.”

  A smile tugged at her lips—Dragon hearing was far too good. It was another two seconds before Nivaradros pushed open the flap and entered the tent in his lesser form. The Shade was nowhere to be seen, but Z could tell the two had argued about something. The neon faded quickly though as the Dragon’s eyes held hers.

  “Not you, no. Crilyne, on the other hand.”

  “Ah. I could agree with that statement.” Nivaradros closed the distance between them slightly. “Trouble with Midestol?”

  Hesitating since she knew the Dragon had some personal interest in seeing her get along with her grandfather, Z struggled to come up with an answer. “Is any of your family still alive?” she wondered aloud.

  Neon returned. “Why?”

  “No reason,” she said with a sigh. Closing her eyes, she shivered slightly. “Coming here was a mistake,” she whispered, but she heard Nivaradros move forward at her words.

  His hand gently caught her chin, and she opened her eyes to find his curious, and worried. Any anger that had been there was gone, and Z mentally sighed with relief.

  “You don’t ask dangerous questions for no reason. Why did you ask about my family?” Nivaradros’s hand moved away from her chin and fell calmly to his side.

  “I thought maybe I could use them as a reference,” she told him lamely.

  Her words seemed to astonish him. “What do you know of my family?” he asked in a slightly dangerous tone. He stepped back, and the movement told her she had to tread carefully. This was a touchy subject.

  “Nothing. I swear, Nivaradros. Of all the races whose lineage I follow, the Dragons are not one of them.”

  Neon faded to a bright, but less dangerous green. “I see,” he said quietly in a tone that argued otherwise. He watched her intently for a moment before sighing. “Your visitor called me something.”

  “My visitor?”

  “The one who helped grant your immortality and refused to give me his name.”

  “Ah, that one. Yes, he called you the Warlord, but his tone implied far more respect than you are often awarded, and I have the feeling he was not using it to refer to the time you spent flying around destroying things for the hell of it.”

  Nivaradros nodded absently. He moved to the desk that was possibly the only piece of furniture the Shade was using in the whole tent. Picking up a quill, he crushed it in his hand until it seemed like it had started out as dust.

  “What do you know about the Dragon race before the Council was formed?” His tone had an edge to it, and Z froze as what he wasn’t saying became clear.

  “You are the heir to the original Dragon empire,” she breathed in astonishment.

  Neon returned, and Z took a step back as Nivaradros advanced on her. Before most of the other races that weren’t native had arrived, Dragons had held most of the lands. There had been a ruling Dragon line that had ruled for millenniums until inside treachery had caused the entire empire to crumble and allowed the other races the chance to force the Dragon’s undisputed hold to weaken to breaking point. It had been before Nivaradros was born—long before—but Z was shocked to learn one member of the family still existed. Perhaps there were even more reasons to Nivaradros’s outcast state than she had considered or known.

  “Very good,” he said in a cutting tone. “But the empire has been broken, and the title has no power any longer. Not to mention much of the original lands have been infringed upon by the other races. As such there would be nothing for me to claim.”

  He once again raised a hand to touch her face, and Z managed to keep from even flinching as his hand cupped her chin. He was in a dangerous mood—one she hadn’t seen for over a year. He was inches from snapping, and she wanted him to stay there, or soften his temper.

  “That’s what you’re after,” she whispered. “You want me to return you to the throne that was stolen from your grandfather?”

  “Not quite,” Nivaradros replied after a careful pause. He let his hand fall once more, and took a step back, giving both of them space. “No one would bow to me without destroying much of the land and beings that occupy it. While several of the races wouldn’t be much of a loss, land takes time to recover, and it is very boring to watch grass grow.”

  “So, you will have me take it and hand it over to you?” she asked as her throat tightened at the thought.

  “No.”

  “You want me to appear to rule, but answer to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want, Nivaradros?” Z demanded shortly. Fear started to swirl within her, but Nivaradros’s actions on her behalf countered some of that fear.

  His smile was cool, but he didn’t answer her question. “I believe the Shade requested the bed because he figured you would disobey my request and show up. I suggest you use it, if you can sleep.” He turned to go and made it a few steps before she found her voice again.

  “Nivaradros—”

  “You are still not ready.”

  “I don’t give a damn!” she shouted angrily. “Tell me what you want!”

  The Dragon regarded her in silence for a moment and then snorted. “Oh?” he challenged icily. “You won’t attempt to flee? Denounce our friendship? Avoid me or try to kill me?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No,” she promised at long last. “I won’t do any of those things. I just want to know.”

  “It won’t make things easier with Midestol.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Midestol.”

  His chuckle was cold enough to freeze winter. “I would tell you,” he said softly, “but I am not willing to believe you. I want to keep this friendship, and you are still adjusting to it.” He demonstrated this by stepping closer to her again.

  It took everything she had to keep from backing up as he approached once more. He touched her face for the third time that night, and he brought his lips to her forehead.

  “But I will offer you a compromise. What I want for the moment,” he said in a very controlled tone as she abruptly pulled away, “is you. Not as a pet,” he added with disgust that twisted the last word, “but as an equal, and I want you to trust me completely to the point that no matter what I end up doing, your trust never falters. Immortals are incapable of that kind of trust—humans are not.”

  “I’m
incapable of it.”

  “You haven’t tried.” He released her and stepped back. “And I will point out you didn’t stab me through all of this, so I believe my point stands.”

  “I have to go,” she whispered as she tried to walk past him. He moved to block her exit.

  “No, you do not.” The threat was apparent. Z was certain if she tried to leave Nivaradros would take steps, and she didn’t know how many, to keep her there. “Stay for the rest of the night, Zimliya. Midestol will wait.”

  Trapped. She could leave, but in this temper Nivaradros was a danger to everyone else and leaving would surrender them to that fate. Closing her eyes, she struggled to keep from attacking him.

  “Fine.”

  He once again backed off, but this time it was to retreat to a corner. “I will remain over here.”

  “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter where you stand right now.” Z headed over to the bed on the off chance she could manage to sleep; it would be reassuring and sadly comforting if she did.

  Or so she thought. Z awoke a few hours later in the arms of the Dragon. With a strangled cry of surprise, she vacated the bed and had a dagger pointed at the Dragon’s heart—one of them anyways—before Nivaradros could even respond. A black brow rose slightly, but he didn’t even blink.

  “I take it you really were talking in your sleep,” he murmured thoughtfully.

  She put the dagger down—albeit a bit slowly—and regarded him sharply. “What did I say?”

  “That you were cold.”

  “So naturally you decided to join me,” Z said sarcastically through clenched teeth.

  “I asked. You said it was fine. How was I supposed to know you weren’t truly awake? In all the time I have known you, if someone so much as flinches outside your room you awaken at once. I thought you were okay with it.”

  Exhaling uneasily, Z shook her head. “I guess I was just that tired.” It sounded lame even to her, but she did manage to sheath the dagger as the Dragon got up and approached her. The dagger reemerged as he touched the side of her face.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Nivaradros snorted. His eyes, however, were more amused than his tone let on. “You are fine.” He smiled slightly, before his eyes shadowed. “And now you should probably go,” he said quietly.