Dillon’s fingers dug in deep, and I winced. Glancing up at him, I read his anticipation, but I was numb. Other kingdoms? Future kings? Phineas meant Sere, and he meant Roland. There was no other kingdom this side of the Gray Sea with an unwed heir, a son, poised to seize the throne.
Yes, I knew Roland had slaves. The bands around my wrists were proof of that. He preferred females, and his tastes ran toward the exotic. There I was the exception. I was no great beauty. It hadn’t mattered. My vows of chastity had been my allure, a temptation too great for him to resist.
Even knowing he held our daughter captive, knowing he had taken her from me for reasons he never saw fit to share with me, I was shocked by the implication Roland would purchase these slaves from these males. Why? What requirement could Evanti females meet that the rest of his collection lacked? They had always been rare. So rare he had none I knew of. The previous Askaran queen, Eliya, had guarded her few carefully. Perhaps their newly freed status made him think, and wisely so, they would go to ground and disappear, becoming more legendary than they were already. If that was his game, then his timing made sense, but Phineas had made it sound as if Roland were purchasing several—both male and female purebloods—which struck me as odd.
Pressure on my arm dragged me from my thoughts. It was time to make our excuses and try for a peaceful exit I doubted we’d achieve. “If you’ll excuse us, we have other matters to attend to.”
“Ah, yes, I’d almost forgotten the salt.” Phineas measured our reactions. “I don’t suppose you would bargain for it?” he asked Dillon. “Your freedom and hers exchanged for its location?”
Mild surprise made me shake my head. Salt truly did make the world go around. Sold on the black market, it would net a hefty return. Mercenary codes being what they were, Phineas would be a fool not to attempt bribing us for the salt’s location since I’d cost his welcome at the colony.
Yet he’d asked as an afterthought. Or was it a clever ploy to make us think it didn’t matter to him? He rolled onto the balls of his feet. Back and forth, back and forth, waiting, hoping we gave him a hint. Fortune awaited him if he found the stash before us. His program would benefit…
Oh Zaniah, no. Breeders who specialized in rare and exotic demons. Roland who specialized in rare and exotic horses. What better partnership than him teaching them his progesaline trick?
Roland’s lust for the purest and finest bloodlines made him a merciless equine breeder. Cast in that light, I wondered if his hobby expanded into distilling bloodlines for rare demons as well.
“Even if I knew, that’d be a no.” Dillon snorted. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“But she said—ah.” Phineas’s smile brightened as his gaze found mine. “Whatever we wanted to hear, whatever would protect you. So there is some fondness there after all. Good.” He lifted his hand. “That will make this easier. Galadriel, if you please.” A male advanced on Dillon, who shoved me behind him seconds before contact slammed us both into the wall with a loud crack.
While I crawled from the fray, head spinning, I saw the male raise a knife. Instead of a fatal wound, he was slashing at Dillon’s bad leg, the one he favored as he ducked against sharp blows.
Phineas raised his voice at me. “Give us the location, and he won’t get hurt.”
“That’s bullshit and she knows it,” Dillon panted. “Stay back and keep quiet, Isabeau.”
“She’s a healer.” Cunning gleamed in his eyes. “She can’t help but try and protect you.”
Dillon faltered then, torn between his fight and my safety.
“I’m fine.” I shouted over Phineas, “Don’t—”
Too late, I was too late. Dillon’s head snapped toward me, eyes filling with relief. Motion blurred behind him, and agony replaced his concern. He toppled to the ground with a pained roar. The male leapt, and they rolled. Blood coated Dillon’s face as he traded blows with his attacker, twisting his wrist until I heard a snap and the male howled, his blade clattering onto the ground.
“You can stop this, Isabeau.” Phineas watched me. “Tell me where you’ve hidden the salt.”
“I don’t know.” Sobs threatened to choke me. Blood, there was so much blood.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
Dillon’s enraged snarl vibrated through my ears. He was losing the fight while I scuttled for cover behind him like the coward I had become, that I had let Roland make me. No longer would I cower. I was reclaiming my birthright. Here, in this miserable cave, and now, in front of these males who would learn females were not the weaker sex. Any chance I had with Dillon was lost if I revealed myself, but his life was lost if I kept hiding beneath my glamour and weak excuses.
There was no middle ground, only this, only me and my choice, my sacrifice.
I had hidden from Roland. Let him use me, abandon me, let him keep the one good thing I’d made in my life. Now I hid from Dillon as he fought my battle for me. No. He would not pay for my mistakes. My daughter would not continue growing up without her mother. I would not bow before these males when I was their better. I was a priestess of Zaniah. I was one of her chosen, and I’d pay my tithe to my goddess with their blood, wash my hands with the ends of their lives.
Sacrifice. My grimoire was not here to blame. Its hunger might linger in me, but this was my decision. The word and the intention was mine, and I embraced them both, embraced my magic.
“Don’t lie to me.” Phineas’s voice was fading fast beneath the chant rising on my lips.
The bloodied dagger used to slice through Dillon’s calf lay inches from my outstretched fingers. Touching the metal sent a shiver of pleasure through me. Magic is in the blood. Blood I could use. Dillon’s energy flowed through those smears, the pulse of his life fading as the blood dried, cooled, but I knew where to find more. My gaze lifted and I made eye contact with each of the males present. I counted them on my fingers. I read their eagerness and their vile intentions.
The abandoned blade was heavy in my grip. I tested its weight, and I watched.
Of the males nearest Dillon, one peeled his attacker aside and entered the fray energized. More blood splattered, Dillon’s, but I was ready. When he landed a punch that sent the male rearing back, I threw the dagger. My aim was poor, but my target was close and the wound inflicted was lethal. Gasping, the male clutched at his throat, jostling the knife and inflicting damage. Dillon bucked his hips, and the male toppled backwards. He lay there, panting, snarling, while I scrambled over him until I straddled the thick tangle made from his legs and my victim’s.
“Isabeau?” My name came on a breathless question from Dillon.
I didn’t dare turn. “Forgive me.”
He gripped my hips and steadied me. How I wished I could accept his comfort this time. Braced for his loathing, I let my glamour slither down my arms. I watched as pale skin grew cluttered with runes. Black ink crisscrossed my forearms, trailing past my slave bands to swirl down my fingertips. Even the pads of my fingers blackened and burned.
Dillon’s startled gasp hurt. He spat, “Sereian,” and his disgust sprayed my back.
Harnessing that pain, I knocked aside the dying man’s hands and gripped the hilt of the knife. Wrenching it from his throat, I unstopped his wound. More blood bubbled from his neck and wet his shirtfront. I tossed aside the blade and heard it clatter, a distant annoyance that broke the rhythm of my chant. Louder and louder my voice climbed as I used his blood to ink runes on his skin. The empty well where my power resided overflowed as Zaniah accepted my offering. Her pleasure was a purr in the back of my mind, the restoration of my powers a temporary boon.
Masculine fingers dug into my skin, but Dillon couldn’t sway me from my course. Phineas, who had stood back to await the victor, gaped. His gaze raked me head to toe as if he had trouble believing what he was seeing. My earlier worries were wasted. He’d had no clue I wasn’t Evanti.
Until now.
He swung his arm, and the o
thers rushed forward. I lifted my arms as well, palms out, and pushed a pulse of energy that crackled the air. The smell of burnt hair and singed skin made my gorge rise. When those surrounding us fell in scorched heaps onto the ground, only Phineas and Adina, Dillon and I remained. My arms were heavy, so heavy they fell into my lap, and I whimpered when bending my fingers crackled cooked skin. Phineas stepped back, grabbing his last bit of leverage, Adina, and shoving her toward me. She tumbled, and I rose onto my knees to catch her. She hissed where my touch burned her. My sight rippled into a black haze for long seconds as the indescribable pain ebbed past sensation, numbing me until I fought back oblivion.
Once I had Adina settled beside me on the ground, I turned to Phineas.
He watched me, how my hands curled into fists in my lap, and a relieved smile tempted one side of his mouth. “I should have known Dillon wouldn’t settle for someone as conventional as another Evanti.” He eased right, near the mine’s exit. “Living on Earth changed the lot of them.”
Inhale. Exhale. Fight the darkness. “Stay where you are.”
Dillon shifted beneath me, wanting to stand, not wanting to topple me.
“That seems unwise.” Another step and sunlight pooled near his toes. I couldn’t stop him.
Do something. Think. You can’t let him escape. Or perhaps I could. Perhaps I should.
My locket was lost, but I’d kept a braid of hair tucked into my waistband, thinking I might use a spell for tracking my daughter’s location if Roland reneged on his promise. Without the salt, I had no hope of honoring our bargain. I needed that blasted horse. If I found the mare, then I had more hairs and more objects to power a tracking spell if Roland left me no alternative. If I didn’t, then the hair made no difference either way. Retrieving the braid was awkward because my fingers refused my orders to bend. When at last I held it in my hand, an eternity later, Phineas stood several more yards from me. A whispered incantation made the braid glimmer. “Phineas?”
He flinched, muscles tense. When he turned, slowly, his mouth was tight, eyes strained.
Perhaps he wasn’t unaffected after all.
I drank in his fear and tossed him the braid. “Something to remember me by.”
He caught it on reflex. His brow bunched. He knew he ought to drop it but couldn’t quite let go. Glancing around the violent remnants of our meeting, he said, “I somehow doubt I’ll forget.”
But he would. I’d made sure of it.
Shaking his head, Phineas tottered into the sunlight, gripping the braid, and began walking.
Adina brushed my shoulder. “What did you do to him?”
“I placed a memory enchantment on something of value to me.” I shifted from Dillon’s legs so he could sit upright, and dropped beside her. “He won’t remember what happened here, and he’s disoriented enough he ought to head home, wherever that is.” I twisted to avoid Dillon. “He won’t know why keeping that token on him is so important, but as long as the spell works, he’ll have it in his pocket or on his person. Since it’s tied to me, I can track him. We can find where his people are based, where they’re keeping their females, and we can put a stop to his program.”
“Why would you do that?” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You’re not one of us.”
“I never said I was Evanti.” My gaze crept over Dillon’s calf. “But I didn’t admit I wasn’t.”
“You lied.” Her anger stung my nerves.
“She’s Sereian.” Dillon spoke for the first time. “It’s what they do.”
I had no response. All my actions reinforced his bad opinion of my breed, with good reason.
“Come on.” He grunted, pushing to his feet. “We should leave.”
He managed a step before his leg buckled and he hit the ground, hard. He lay back, eyes closed, no doubt riding out the worst of the pain. While he was too winded to argue, I crawled to him. The knife was lost, so I grabbed a rock and sawed over the inside of my forearm until blood welled. A few swipes of my fingers across his calf set my runes in place. His eyes snapped open.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“You have to get her out of here.” I met his stare and promised, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” He scanned the room. “If you wanted to, you’d have done it by now.”
My gaze slid from his. I indicated his calf. “May I?”
He caught my wrist, stared at my savaged forearm. “What will this cost you?”
More than I had to give. “Only this.” I indicated the runes already in place.
“No.” He shook his head, disbelief shadowing his voice. “It’s not worth the risk—”
Blocking out the rest of what he would have said, I spoke the words and let my magic flow into him. He moaned as pulses of warm, healing energy threaded torn tissue together. When the last drop of glamour left me, I slumped forward and inspected his leg. Muscle twisted in lean grooves. I hadn’t restored his leg, even with assistance from Zaniah, but I had healed him.
My head became too heavy to hold upright. “Sorry…had to…heal…” I fell forward, braced for impact with the floor.
Dillon snagged my upper arms before I hit and dragged me halfway across his lap. He scowled. “Can’t you listen to a damn thing I say?” He shook me. “I said it—”
“Wasn’t worth…the risk,” I said, eyes closing. “Never hurt…you.”
He gathered me close, his breath tickling my jaw. “You still aren’t listening.” His lips brushed my chin. I wished my eyes would open to see him. “This wasn’t worth the risk to you.”
I smiled at his concern, well, tried to. Darkness swallowed my consciousness with one gulp.
I never got that glimpse of him.
Chapter Eleven
Warm air blew fragrant across my cheeks. The world was red behind my eyelids, so I turned from the slice of sunlight heating my face and snuggled deeper into bed. Cramps in my stomach made me struggle for a comfortable spot. As if sensing I’d roused, it rumbled a complaint, and my eyes cracked open on a room that wasn’t mine. I blinked. I wasn’t in a room at all, but a tent.
Wood shavings littered the floor beneath a battered table holding a carving of a whale. “No.”
Jerking upright, sheets twisting around my ankles, I kicked until my feet tangled and I rolled onto the floor. On my hands and knees, I panted. Not here. Not again. Not now. There’s no time.
This wasn’t any tent, but Dillon’s. This wasn’t some hastily erected shelter, but a fortified dwelling. Head spinning, stomach revolting, I climbed onto the mattress and forced my head between my knees while inhaling long and deep. This wasn’t possible. I was right where I’d started—in the colony—again. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? Days?
“Did you say something?”
My mouth fell open as Dillon backed into the tent. When he spun around, he lifted a tray laden with cut fruit and cooked meats piled high over the bowls’ edges. My mouth watered as the scent hit me, but it was Dillon who held my attention. His mouth was set, eyes hard, but his gruff tone left me hanging on his every word. How was this possible? Why wasn’t I locked in a cell?
“Aldrich said you ought to be waking up about now. Guess I have good timing.” He set the tray on a low table then dragged until the edge bumped my knees. “Eat, and I mean every bite.”
“Dillon.” Thank you.
He plucked a cube of fruit and popped it into my mouth. I had to chew or choke. I tried the first but managed the second. He wiped his fingers and grabbed a fork, stabbing another piece of food and aiming it at me. While extending one offering, he reached for a cup and lifted it as well.
“How is Adina?” I chewed and tried to speak. “Do you have a healer versed in childbirth?”
“She’s fine, and no, we don’t.” His offering bumped my lips. “I sent for a priest from town.”
“If she needs anything…” I knocked his utensil to the floor, “…between now and then…”
He made another selecti
on with his fingers. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.” I relaxed, and he seized the opportunity.
“I’ll talk. You eat.” He pressed fruit to my lips and forced his way inside. “Now, let’s cover the basics. I heard what you told Adina. I’m guessing what you gave Phineas was another lock of hair.” When I stopped chewing, he glared until my jaw sprung back into action. “You said you can track it, track him.” When I swallowed to answer, he said, “A nod works just fine.”
I nodded.
“Does the spell require you to track him personally?” He watched until I shook my head no. “Good. So you can rig it for someone else to follow Phineas’s trail?”
I opened my mouth to say yes and got a mouthful of cured meat. Scowling at him, I snatched the cup and hid behind it long enough to say, “Yes, but the spell is only good for two days or so. Afterward, it begins to fade.”
“Not a problem.” He sounded calm, reasonable. It made me more afraid than if he’d yelled. “We have a volunteer ready to go once the tracking spell’s activated.” I was fast becoming confused. “Once I realized what you were…” He frowned, started again. “I called in a favor and sent Mason to round up Aldrich. I figured he’d know more about what was wrong than our healers. Turns out I was right.” Lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “He said you’d borrowed more power than you could afford. That you were tapped out and something was draining you.”
I picked up a roll of meat, but I’d lost my appetite.
Dillon took my hand and guided it to my mouth. “He said a grimoire was his bet, but you didn’t have one on you. I explained about the runaway-horse problem, and we’re figuring that’s where your book is, right?” He waited as I swallowed, then nodded. If he was supplying me with means of retrieving my possessions, I would hardly argue. “He also said if you owed it so much you were blacking out, that you’d only get square by making a sacrifice—or sacrificing yourself—to sate its hunger.” His eyes hardened. “That’s not going to happen, so this is what we’re going to do. Aldrich is willing to donate his blood to seal your grimoire—permanently.” He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “Harper will be pissed to come home and realize I’ve used up his favors with the priest, but I…” He stared until my cheeks heated and I glanced away.
Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 Page 13
