by Jaide Fox
***
“Sleep well?” Dar asked as she came down the stairs. The fire had burned down to ashes, and he sat at the table, munching on nuts.
“Wonderfully,” she lied, going to the sink to wash her face.
“Better than I did, I’m sure. I had a stiff leg. Kept me up all night.” He made a pained face and rubbed his upper thigh.
She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Funny.”
“I try.”
“I’ll have to remember you’re a bundle of sunshine in the morning. I need a coffee.” She yawned, settling for water, fruit, and nuts. At least she wasn’t hungry.
“I’m afraid I’m all out of stimulants. Unless—”
She put up a hand. “No. Don’t start that.”
He looked wide-eyed and innocent. “What?”
She cocked her head. “Your flirting—if that’s what we’re going to call it. I’d swear you were southern if I didn’t know better. Maybe ladling it on thick is just a man thing.”
Dar clutched his chest, wounded by her sarcasm. “I could cease trying to win your favor as I could cease breathing.” He looked sincere when he said it, which made her want to laugh and hit him at the same time.
“I’m on overload right now. Still trying to decide if I believe any of it—the serious tone and the corny love gushing. I think the more you’re around me, the less you’ll be inclined to win my favors.”
“I am not so easily dissuaded by mere words.”
Jasmine laughed. “I’ve got action to back them up. My bite is as sharp as my bark.”
“Your Earth language evades me,” he said with a frown.
“I noticed. It is kind of cute how clueless you are at times.” She smirked and finished her breakfast.
He waggled his eyebrows and she choked on a sip of water. “I grow on you.”
This only made her laugh harder. “If you don’t stop I will never finish. What’s the plan for today?”
He shrugged. “I’ve taken stock of our supplies. I have my gun and the zhala call. I’ve also found some canisters for water, two bags, a firestick…” He pulled the stick from the front of the bag and clicked it, showing her the flame. “…and packed up fresh fruit and nuts. Change of clothes for us too, though they might be ill fitting for you. As soon as you’re ready we can leave. We can follow the river down to the generator mill and possibly find a communicator. Most of the valuables here are gone. I woke early and looked.”
“Let’s go then. I’m ready for civilization again.”
Dar led the way outside the house, shouldering the weight of the heavier bag while she carried one container of water, a blanket, and the clothing. It was early yet, and she watched as he looked up at the sun, arching his neck in an alluring angle that normally would have her tracing her fingers down the column of his throat. What was it about the dark shadow of hair bristles on a man’s jaw that looked so sexy? She’d always been a sucker for a bit of scruff.
“It is not difficult travel, as you can see,” he said, pointing to where the road wound down the rolling hills through the trees. “The road was maintained for ore pickup for years before the mine and town were abandoned. They still come through and occasionally fight the wild from taking back her terrain.”
Jasmine nodded, walking beside him along the wide, smooth road. As the day wore on and they descended the higher altitude, the air grew humid and warm. “You seem to know the area.”
“My mother’s parents lived here. She had the good fortune to marry up—my father was a king’s guard and passed that heritage to me. If she’d married someone from the village, I most likely would have spent my days breaking my back in the mines.”
“Another reason to love the new king, right? For giving you all your freedom?” she asked.
Dar slid a glance her way. “He is not loved, nor probably ever will be. He’ll spend the rest of his reign continuing to make up for the harm he’s done our people. We support him because it is his birthright. You cannot overlook the genocide of our women and forgive so easily. We all live under the shadow of doom.”
She took a deep breath, remembering the flood of pain and loss of her own. She nearly drowned in it before, and she could empathize with these people. “That’s depressing.”
“Depressing cannot begin to describe our hopelessness for so long.”
She felt the need to offer him comfort and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew something to say. I’m not that wise or eloquent.”
He put his hand over hers, and it was warm. Her fingers tingled with awareness and she felt his hooded look touch her heart. It was difficult to recognize pain and be unable to ease suffering. Loss was a commonality between them. “My parents are gone. Samara’s too. They were vacationing together and died in a car accident. It was so sudden and awful. I just never thought something like that could happen. I still think about them almost every day. Some things you learn to accept, even if you never get over them.”
They’d slowed their walk to a snail’s pace. He stopped and looked at her. “You have a kind heart.”
“Yeah. A little. It’s hard to tell since I spend most of my time chewing people to pieces,” she said quietly.
He shook his head. “You’re defensive. It’s understandable considering what’s happened. Here,” he said, stopping to pull aside the brush from the side of the road. “Time to take a detour.”
She eyed him dubiously. “Why don’t we just follow the main road? I don’t want to get lost in the woods.”
Dar held his hand out, waiting for her to take it. “Trust me. This is better. It’s a surprise I wanted to show you. Just about the right time of year, I think.”
Hesitantly, she took his hand and ducked under low hanging branches. As she did, she saw that they were on something like a game trail. Grasses parted for a well-worn path. The ground sharply descended. The river babbled noisily in the distance ahead, and a breeze rattled the grasses brushing against her legs.
“I don’t see what’s so special…” she said, noticing tiny purple petals on the ground on top of trampled brown grass.
Dar pulled her forward until she was in front of him and could see a trail of deep violet blooms covering the ground like confetti. Above, the treetops intertwined with one another, forming a tunnel of fragrant green berries and more flowers. A heavenly, sweet smell permeated the air. She breathed deeply, walking slowly through the living tunnel.
“Wow,” she said quietly, looking around as she strolled. “It’s beautiful.”
“They aren’t ripe yet. They’ll turn a dark blue when they’re ready. I thought you would like it. I used to spend my summers down here, eating berries and swimming. The mill is just over this hill. Hear the river talking to us?”
How could she not? She nodded, reluctant to leave the tunneled orchard behind. Moving faster, an ancient gray façade of thick carved block came into view. Covered in vines, the stone remained hidden until they were upon it. A giant wheel of rusted metal and wooden steps pedaled in the running water, though most of the wood that caught the river had disintegrated like rotting teeth.
“I always imagined taking that wheel for a ride when I was a kid.”
She smiled. “Like a carnival ride.”
He lifted a brow, not understanding, and she shrugged. She admired the picturesque scene as he went inside through an open doorway.
He came out within minutes. “There’s nothing left in there. Some animals have rummaged the place, chewed through wires. You’ll have to be stuck with me a while longer.
“It’s not so bad with views like this.”
Dar grinned. “Good to know. Let’s go.”
Dar moved faster now, down from the mill where moss covered stones overtook the dirt, taking them down an increasingly steep path. Soon the flat surface became stairs, and she realized they weren’t far from the water. She could see the river peeping through the thick overgrowth only occasionally, but an unmistakable roar filled the moist, warm air. His exciteme
nt was palpable, encouraging her to descend faster. Ahead, a wide landing broke the seemingly unending stairs. There they stopped, and she could see the small waterfall in all its glory. The afternoon sun beat down on her head, making her long for a cool drink.
“Beautiful,” she said, a little breathless from running. She thought about pulling out her water, but was distracted by Dar. He grinned, and with his hair falling over his forehead and a charming dimple in one cheek, he took away the last of her breath. She smiled back.
“Take these just down there. At the bottom of the stairs,” he said, removing his gun and stuffing it in the bag as he handed it to her. She accepted it and made an oomph of sound as her shoulders took the full weight.
“Why?” she said, looking up at him.
His grin widened. His eyes crinkled at the corners—full of mischief—and he kicked off his shoes, sending warning bells ringing in her mind. “Another shortcut,” he said. He turned toward the waterfall, ran, and leapt off the ledge before she could say a word.
Jasmine screamed and reached out to stop him—far too late to do any good.
Chapter Eight
“Is it always this crowded?” Samara asked Grail over her shoulder. Behind her, Cyndy walked abreast with the guard, who kept scanning the crowd.
“Market day,” he said. “Just keep following this street. It will open up past those storefronts and you’ll see the stable complex. You cannot miss it. It is the largest structure besides the palace.”
She nodded, pushing through the throng. Ignoring the sights and scents of the unfamiliar and alien was difficult, but she was on a mission to save her cousin. She couldn’t afford the distraction or delay. When she knew Jasmine was safe, then she could enjoy herself.
The street ahead widened as he described, growing nearer with her quick pace. Someone grabbed her bicep, stopping her mid-stride. She was so focused that at first she didn’t realize the hand grabbing her arm didn’t belong to Cyndy or Grail until she heard Grail’s voice. She turned her head, looking up into an unfamiliar, determined male face.
“Unhand her,” Grail said in a deadly tone. A pulsing, electric staccato accompanied his words, and from the corner of her eye she could see an orange light glowing from the end of Grail’s raised staff. Static filled the air, making her nerves buzz. She could feel her hair lifting off her forehead and floating to the charged weapon.
The man looked slowly from her face to where Grail stood ready to attack should the stranger disobey his order. She held still, waiting to see if the man was a moron or if she’d be forced to claw his eyes out and run and then watch from a safe distance as Grail roasted his balls. Without really looking, she noticed the crowd had separated from them, forming a haphazard circle as everyone watched the showdown. Slowly, the man grinned and released her arm. She could feel the imprint of his fingers lingering long after he’d tucked his arm back by his side. No one held on that tight without bad intentions. Samara resisted the impulse to rub feeling back into her arm.
“My apologies. She reminded me of someone I knew once,” the man said, backing away with his hands held up in surrender. He joined a group of three others and melded back into the crowd to disappear.
Samara’s heart unstuck from her throat as the sounds of the market returned to normal and Grail turned his staff off, or on safety. Whatever. Her hair stopped standing on end. She swallowed painfully, coming to realize why he insisted they needed an escort. She clutched her hands together, looking at the men moving around them with paranoid suspicion.
“Are you okay?” Cyndy and Grail asked nearly in unison.
“Jinx,” Cyndy said.
Samara nodded. “Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.”
“Let us go,” he said.
“Yeah, before something worse happens,” Cyndy said with a frown.
Giving a nod, Samara hurried alongside Grail and Cyndy as they left the main part of the city behind. The shadow of the zhala stables loomed overhead. The curved walls extended high above them, reminding her of a stadium back home. Passing through a set of arched double doors, Samara was charmed by the columns supporting the weight of the building—they looked like dragons with wings tucked in, standing tall and holding up the ceiling.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” an obnoxious, masculine voice announced, ripping her attention towards the source. He blocked their path, hands behind his back, his black uniform impeccably clean and neat. The stiff collar grazed just under his square jaw, which jutted in a noticeably smug manner. He looked young, possibly early thirties with faint creases on his forehead, but his close-cropped ash blond hair made him look like a silver fox. Samara immediately disliked him.
Grail saluted, clapping a fist against his chest. The other man did the same then looked the women over. He stared at Samara. She kept her face as neutral as she could manage.
“Ladies, this is Jerik Warsong. Samara and Cyndy. We’ve come for word on Captain Dar Tagnon and their friend, whom he escorted on tour. Has Captain Tagnon reported in?”
“I don’t believe that should be discussed before civilians, Arkane,” Jerik said.
Samara surged forward, disregarding Grail’s mild attempt at help. “That’s my cousin out there. She’s the only family I’ve got left. I want to know have you heard from them or not?”
A muscle ticked on Jerik’s jaw. He narrowed his eyes.
“I have Prince Zeta’s express permission to attend the women on this matter,” Grail said as Samara faced off with Jerik.
“Why was I not informed beforehand?” he said coolly.
“They wanted to come themselves and hear from her in person through the comm unit. They would not be dissuaded, and the princess felt compelled to indulge them given the circumstances.”
“If it will get them out of here…” Jerik snorted in disgust. “Women. They make you all soft. Come. Try not to scream at the zhala when you enter. They are in their stalls and shouldn’t eat you unless provoked.”
Grail said to Cyndy, under his breath, “They won’t eat you.”
“If you’re trying to frighten us, just stop,” Samara said, following the jerkwad into an open air area. The ceiling of the stables formed a lip over the zhala enclosures yet left an opening to the sky for easy entry and exit. She smelled fruit and animal musk, but nothing overly unpleasant as she expected. She supposed she thought it would smell like a horse barn in need of mucking. This just smelled like over-ripened citrus.
Jerik the jerk led them to another enclosed area, which was obviously an office and work stations for the other men. At their entrance, several of the guards raised their eyes, but at a look from Jerik, returned to their work.
A panel set into the wall above a desk blinked with lights and knobs and smooth glass panels. He placed his thumb on one, causing the black glass to glow with his thumbprint, then punched in a code and turned a knob. “Captain Tagnon. This is Warsong,” he said, speaking into the panel.
She didn’t see the speaker at first—it was only a small hole. Static returned to them. Jerik turned the knob, increasing the volume. “Tagnon? Respond if you hear me.”
They waited, but received no response. Jerik rubbed his jaw. “That is…unlike him. I had a feeling when he chose that zhala…”
“I would have said alarming,” Samara said. “Should they have reported in by now? And what do you mean you had a feeling?”
He looked at her as if he wanted to chew her out, but sat down at the desk instead and logged onto a thin metallic tablet with a black glass screen. Running his finger across the surface, he scanned documents and returned it to the desktop. “His tour is marked. They should be on route back tonight.”
“I want you to send someone out to look for them,” Samara said. “They aren’t responding. That’s not good.”
Jerik leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “On whose authority?”
“On Princess Adrienne’s authority. Get h
er on the phone. Or radio. Or whatever y’all call it. I’ll talk to her.”
He barked a laugh, setting her nerves on edge and making her grit her teeth. “One does not simply make a call to the princess of the city. Not if one wants to retain his freedom. You go through the proper channels and bring me authorization and then I will do as you ask. Until then, take yourselves back to the pampered comfort of the palace where you belong. This is where men handle business. Women do not belong here.” He stood, towering over her and looking down with that smug grin that begged for a fist right in the middle of it.
Cyndy made a gasp in the background. Samara forgot she was supposed to be batting her lashes, looking demure. Without realizing it, she’d clenched her hands into fists and felt rage boil inside her, heating her forehead and cheeks with fiery anger and frustration. She was two seconds from unleashing her wrath upon Jerik the jerk. “No,” she said.
He stared at her. “You have no authority here. Leave.”
“Give me a ride. I’ll go look for them myself. Or stay on the horn until they answer. You’re not getting rid of me this easily. I’m patient. I can wait a long time for what I want.”
Jerik pointed toward the door with a thundercloud frown. “Leave or I will have you removed.”
She raised her arms, palms up, and thrust her chest forward, daring him with her bold stance. “Touch me and you’ll draw back a nub. Are you really going to leave two people out there when they might need help? Are you stupid or just that big of an asshole that you can’t admit you’re wrong here? Well? The ball’s in your court, Jerik. What you gonna do?”
***
Either he was already dead or he would be when she got through with him. The mist from the falls and the moss-edged stone made for a treacherous race down the last of the stairs. She felt no relief at the bottom, only this sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. Jasmine dropped the bags and rushed to the edge of the pool, kicking off her shoes as she scanned the rippling water for signs of the idiot male. His broken body wasn’t floating along the top, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
