“No, Meg. It’s not your marriage.” Nolan clenched his fist. “Jezebelle took the stones.”
Alec’s eyes widened. “How long do you have?”
“One week. Maybe two, if I’m careful. But I might have other options,” Nolan said. “At the gypsy camp, a Guardian shared his power with me. If Greer and the others can do the same, I might prolong it for a while.”
“Wait,” Alec said. “A Guardian? In the gypsy camp?”
“His name is Rikar.”
“That’s terrific!” Alec said. “Where is he?”
“He disappeared once the Rol’dan showed up. Greer is searching for him now.”
Nolan started talking about the Guardian, giving details of his story Megan hadn’t heard before. She wanted to listen, but questions filled her head. Why did the missing stones worry them so much? And what did Nolan mean when he said he only had a week or two? One week for what? Where had this new Guardian come from? And how had he shared his power with Nolan? Wait! Nolan just said something about light and blood and … a finger? Certainly, that can’t be right. Megan’s head hurt, she was so confused.
Nolan turned to her, laying a hand on her arm. “Meg … I’ll die without the stones.”
“Die?”
“I need the stones to refill. If I run out of power, it will kill me.”
A lump stuck in her throat. “W-well, we need to find them.”
“That’s right,” Alec said. “If I have to kill the wench myself, I’ll get them.”
“Oh, Alec,” Nolan said with a sad smile. “First, you’ll have to be strong enough to get out of bed.”
Alec frowned and tried to sit straighter. After his pathetic effort, he slumped back, his face set in a defeated scowl.
“Thank you, friends,” Nolan said. “It means a lot to me. It really does. However, if she’s as strong as people are saying, I might be the only one able to defeat her. And if I have to conserve my powers, that might be difficult.”
“The Guardians can help, can’t they?” Megan asked.
“Maybe,” Nolan said. “But since she is still human to them, they won’t be able to hurt her, only detain her. It might be enough to help, though.”
“You don’t have to defeat her to get the stones,” Megan said. “If we can find out where she is, we can sneak in and grab them.”
The hopelessness lifted from Nolan’s face. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“And she isn’t trying to hide,” Alec snorted. “If we wait a day or two, she’ll probably fly a huge flag, telling us where she is.”
Megan stood. “I’ll talk to Emery. Surely we can come up with a plan.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
MEGAN CHECKED THEIR BEDROOM FIRST, but Emery wasn’t there. She wanted to speak to him privately, without a parade of nosy Rol’dan listening. Most of them, if not all, didn’t know of Nolan’s weakness, and it would be best to keep it that way.
Finally, she went to the throne room, wondering if Emery was in a meeting with General Trividar, or if someone else had brought him news. The doors to the throne room were open, and Rol’dan trickled out, casting nervous glances over their shoulders. Megan crept inside but relaxed when she saw the glow of Guardian light. The Rol’dan always acted funny around Guardians. Her brows furrowed when instead of three Guardians, there were four. An air of tension filled the room enough to make her feel nervous.
The new Guardian wore only a loincloth, much like Nolan had. Her mouth dropped open. Crows, he was magnificent. She’d never seen a Guardian without his armor before. Smooth, iridescent skin. Perfect muscles that made Nolan’s seem small in comparison. He had straight black hair to his shoulders, which shimmered with light. The Guardian turned to her, and his face was even more beautiful, with a godlike chin and jaw.
An Empathy Shay touched her mind. She pried her eyes from the new Guardian and found Emery watching her, an amused expression touching his mouth. Megan’s cheeks warmed.
Emery held out his hand for Megan. She took it, but could hardly look at him. How embarrassing.
“This is my wife, Megan.” He motioned to the Guardian. “Megan, this is Rikar.”
Recognition clicked in her mind. “Oh! Nolan told me about you.”
Rikar’s dark brow rose. “Is Master Nolan well?”
“He is,” Megan said. “Thanks to you.”
“It was my honor to help him.”
Angry scowls painted the other Guardians’ faces as they glared at the new addition.
“Nolan spoke highly of you, Master Emery,” Rikar said.
“Did he? I’m glad to hear it.”
Greer stepped away from the others. “We must get Rikar settled in and changed.” His voice held an edge Megan had never heard before. He strode across the room with purpose and grabbed Rikar’s arm, pulling him out the door.
As soon as he left, Malik turned toward Emery. “Your Majesty. There is much you do not know pertaining to Rikar.”
“He saved Nolan. For that, I’m grateful.”
“But, Your Majesty—”
“No,” Emery said, voice firm. “I don’t want to hear of it. Whatever grievances you have against him will have to be set aside.”
Malik scowled. “As you wish, Master Emery.”
Sanawen and Malik left, still whispering to one another.
Megan leaned in. “What are they feeling?”
“Violence,” Emery said, “and disgust. I haven’t felt this from the Guardians since … Well, the only time is when anyone mentions Alcandor.”
Megan shuddered. “You don’t think Rikar is like him, do you?”
“No,” Emery said. “His emotions seem genuine, and he helped Nolan. As of right now, he’s more pleasant than the other Guardians.” He grinned. “You seemed to like him quite well.”
Megan’s eyes widened in horror, but it only made Emery’s smile widen. Her skin warmed so much she couldn’t even look at him. She slapped her hands over her face. “Oh, Emery, I’m so sorry.”
Emery laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, Sanawen is attractive too.”
She peeked through her fingers. “It helps … a little, maybe.”
He pulled her hands from her face and held them. Her heart fluttered, then raced. His grin faded, and he dropped his grip.
“So you spoke to Nolan?” he asked.
She blinked, still trying to recover from his touch. “Um, yes. In Alec’s room. He’s worried about the stones.”
Emery frowned. “As he should be. But there is also something else troubling him, though I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll speak to him later this evening.”
“You have a lot of people to talk to,” she said, a reminder to add her to this list.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he said with a pained smile.
Megan sighed, not sure if she believed him. If he wasn’t able to be intimate with his feelings, he’d never be able to physically open up to her. He couldn’t even hold her hands without withdrawing.
He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing gently. Suddenly, he pulled her to him, and their lips met, soft and warm. And just as quickly, he yanked away.
“We will talk. Okay, Megan?”
She nodded, breathless. If one tiny kiss from him could affect her like this, what could he do if he really kissed her? What would happen if he touched her … if he … Her heart thundered. She pulled back on her thoughts, not wanting to indulge such ideas, especially if they never came to fruition. For now, she’d have to settle for this kiss.
“Master Emery,” a rumbling voice said.
Greer and Rikar stood at the entrance to the throne room. Rikar had changed from the loincloth—thank Brim—to a suit of shiny golden armor.
“We are ready to speak with you now,” Greer said. “Rikar has helpful information regarding the gypsies.”
Emery released Megan’s shoulders and took a step back. He motioned toward the conference room, once again confident. Once again a king. “Yes, of course. We can talk privately i
n here.”
Emery entered, followed by Greer. Rikar stopped and studied Megan, his white eyes intense, before he nodded and continued behind them.
***
Megan went back to her room to wait for Emery. After a while, a servant brought her a meal. She ate in solitude, thinking about the kiss and their potential conversation. She hoped he would follow through on his promise.
As she waited, anxiousness set in. To pass some time, she’d watch the Rol’dan train from her window. Kael was quite a taskmaster.
As the day ticked on, boredom led to weariness. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. But even sleep did nothing to help her unease as her dreams took over. The bedroom. Alcandor. Even Maska appeared this time, with his eyes glowing red. She jerked awake, her body covered in sweat as she inhaled, calming her thundering heart.
A hand touched her hair.
She jumped, until she saw Emery. He lay next to her propped on one elbow. “I’m here.”
She fell into his chest, and he held her and stroked her hair. His heart beat strong against her cheek, and his breath came heavy and slow.
She pushed from his chest. He stared at her, intense. Before she could speak, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.
Her breath caught as their lips moved, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Strong hands laced in her hair, pulling her face to his. Her mind clouded, disoriented, as his kiss deepened.
Abruptly, he rolled over, taking her with him, positioning her on top of him. She gasped as he pulled her body full against him. She tried to speak, but his kisses continued, with hardly a moment to breathe.
His hands met her neck, reaching for the buttons on her dress. Unlike this morning, when he fumbled against them, his fingers expertly traveled down her spine.
She trembled as his hands brushed the skin of her back, exploring, touching. All the while, his lips moved against hers. He broke away, and his mouth closed on her neck.
“Oh, Emery,” she whispered.
“Shh,” he said, his lips touching the hollow in her throat.
Everything moved so fast. Her heart raced, but it was not only from desire. Her memory was too fresh; fear tainted her thoughts.
He came up, pulling her face to him, looking her full in the eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
She nodded, unable to talk, and once again, his lips closed on hers.
Her head swam. What had gotten into him? All his fear was gone. She gasped as his hand went up her dress, traveling up her leg.
The door pounded. Megan jumped, yet Emery didn’t seem to notice. He pulled at her dress, pushing it off her shoulders. Megan’s face heated.
“Mistress Megan,” a voice said. It sounded like Greer.
Megan clutched the garment to her chest. “Emery,” she hissed.
Emery’s eyes focused. He yanked away as if she’d grown scales.
The door pounded again. “Are you all right, Mistress Megan?”
Emery looked away, ashamed. “Forgive me, my lady.” He bowed, straightened, then slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.
Megan stared at the door. What had just happened? She put a hand to her swollen lips, then inspected her dress. He’d nearly had her undressed without her knowing it.
She pulled off the dress, chucked it to the ground, and climbed under the thick blankets. She closed her eyes as her body trembled. She’d wanted this, hadn’t she? She’d been dreaming of Emery coming to her in this way. But now that he had, she wasn’t so sure. Too much, too soon.
Finally, the door opened, and Emery entered. Megan froze, gripping the blanket tight against her chin.
“You’re in bed?”
She didn’t answer. What would he do?
He went to the fireplace, and soon a warm crackle filled the room. He turned, worry lining his expression as violet light flared in his eyes.
She flinched at his brief inspection.
“Megan, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. How could she tell him she was upset at him for trying to make love to her when she’d been complaining for weeks? If he knew, he’d never touch her again.
“Megan?” He stepped closer then stopped when he saw her dress crumpled on the ground. His face flickered a multitude of expressions. “It would be easier to talk if you were clothed.”
“Talk?”
He released a long breath. “You wanted to talk. I’ll talk.” Then he turned around.
Was she supposed to talk to his back? Then she remembered the dress; he was giving her privacy to change. She slipped out of bed, trembling as the cool air hit her skin. The fire helped, but it hadn’t yet filled the room.
She slid into her dress; it was crumpled and wrinkled from when Emery had tried to undress her. After she put her arms through, she cleared her throat. “I might need your help with the buttons again.”
“Why don’t you wear clothing you can put on by yourself?”
“Ask your seamstress. She’s the one who made it for me.”
“Ah, yes. Well, we can talk to her. She likes to make complicated clothing.”
She stood there, waiting. “The buttons?”
He sighed and turned. “All right then.”
She waited, and then finally, his hands touched the base of her spine. He moved slowly, carefully avoiding her skin. Any time his finger brushed her, the sensation nearly took her breath away.
“You’re much better taking the buttons off than putting them on.” She gave an awkward laugh. She wished he’d just hurry up. He was driving her crazy.
He hesitated, unmoving. “What did you say?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. He stared at her, his head tilted to one side.
“W-when you took this off. You did it so fast.”
He yanked his hands away. “Took it off?”
Her face flushed. “Yes. You know … ” She lowered her voice. “While you were kissing me.”
“I only touched your shoulders.”
“Only my shoulders?” What in Brim’s name is he talking about? “I suppose you didn’t have a hand up my skirts either.”
He stepped back, his eyes horrified. “Megan, it was a small kiss. And I only held your shoulders. Even if we were … like that, I wouldn’t grope you in the open throne room.”
“Throne room? I’m talking about in here, just a short while ago. You had me on the bed, my dress nearly off, right before Greer knocked and called you away.”
He exhaled, giving her a sad smile. “Oh, Megan. I think you had a bad dream again.”
“Bad dream?” she snapped. “I think I know the difference.”
Emery’s sympathetic smile flattened. “Apparently not. After we talked, I met with Greer and Rikar. After that, I went straight to Nolan. And from Nolan, to here, just now.” He pointed at the door. “If you don’t believe me, ask Nolan. He’ll tell you how long we spoke.”
If she hadn’t experienced it, she could almost believe him. She searched her brain, thinking. She did have a dream, but Alcandor and Maska were in it, not Emery. Her time with Emery was real.
A frantic knock sounded at the door.
Emery stomped over and flung it open. “What is it?”
A female Rol’dan flinched. “Y-your Majesty. Uh … I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but we have some trouble.”
The scowl fell from his face. “What sort of trouble, soldier?”
“It’s the Guardians, Your Grace. They’re fighting. They are tearing your conference room apart.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
NOLAN MOVED THE BLADE in front of his face, letting the light trail behind it like a ribbon of flame. He thrust, then blocked, and finally slid it into the scabbard that lay on his bed. Even touching his sword used a little of his power; Guardian steel reacted to him. Even so, Nolan would practice. He’d been caught unaware once, and drugged and hauled away for his ignorance. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
Leather straps la
y across the table in his room. Three of them were filled with metal spikes. Nolan strapped one to his right thigh, one to his left arm, and the last across his chest. Lastly, he strapped his sword around his waist. Standing in front of the mirror, he examined himself. He’d make people think twice before trying anything.
He sat, calming the anger that never seemed to go away. He thought of his conversation with Emery moments ago. His friend seemed tired. Of course, running a kingdom would make anyone tired. But he knew Emery’s thoughts were also on other things—which had nothing to do with running a kingdom. Nolan wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t force his way into his friend’s mind. If Emery wanted to share, he would.
They’d both been through a lot since Alcandor had fallen. Sometimes Nolan wondered what good it had done. The Rol’dan still killed. The people of the land didn’t seem to care; they ignored the stones or any possibility of having a Shay. And if the people kept refusing, like they had been, the Nass would take over again. It was easy to forget the Nass in Faylinn, where those who’d taken the light no longer created them. But every time he stepped from the walls, reality came back to him in full force. Everywhere else, the Nass were reemerging, covering the sky once again. And nothing he said to the people seemed to change their minds. Even the prospect of gaining a power did nothing to persuade them. If they continued, Nolan would have to eliminate the Nass again. Could he survive another cleansing? Without the stones, he most likely wouldn’t survive another week.
At least Jezebelle had left a large, arrogant trail. The next time she struck, they would find her and get the stones. But who knew where, or when, she’d strike next. Hopefully, she would move before it was too late for Nolan.
He squeezed the pommel of his sword. He’d never hated anyone so much in his life, even if she might be his sister. She’d been a spear in his gut before she’d even captured him. Her mutiny at Renfrew had nearly killed him. Then the kidnapping. Now the attacks. Worse yet, the theft of the stones. He pursed his lips tight. He’d get them back, and then he’d lock her in the dungeon—if he didn’t kill her first.
Nolan ran a hand over his face. He should go find Greer instead of obsessing about revenge. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t healthy for anyone, especially with so many other pressing matters at hand … such as Rikar.
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