Hunted: Alba's Story (Destined Book 5)

by Kaylin Lee

  A few of them nodded. The rest offered no response and resumed organizing their gear, like Bri.

  “Don’t forget your obcillo crystals,” said one of the bearded, older Sentinels. “Out of the packs and into your pockets. Keep ’em handy.”

  “Uh-huh. Right. We’re not taking any risks, and you know it.” A wiry, blond youth with a sparse mustache rolled his eyes dramatically. “We have Commander Darien’s twin daughters on our team. This mission is as dangerous as a trolley ride through the Procus Quarter.”

  A tall, broad-shouldered man with pale, freckled skin and red hair—rare, Western coloring—shot a glance at Bri, but her attention remained fixed on organizing her pack. She didn’t speak.

  No one else answered the blond youth. As the uncomfortable silence dragged on, I found myself wishing she would rebuke him. She probably had more strength in her toned biceps than the skinny eye-roller had in his whole body.

  A man a few years older than me with a bushy beard and intricate tattoos stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “We’ve got an overconfident young whelp on the team, too,” he drawled. “Should make things interesting, don’t you think?”

  Cole barely glanced up from cleaning his bow. “I’m sure you’ll teach him all he needs to know, Deacon.”

  The blond youth’s throat jerked. “I just meant that—”

  “You know, young Eugene.” Deacon rubbed his beard like a thought had just occurred to him. “If you want to take some risks, you should keep insulting the girl who learned all the old Hawk clan wrestling moves from Instructor Erik in about two weeks. That could be a fun risk.” He cracked a grin. “For me and Tavar, I mean. To watch her mash your face into the floor.”

  Every eye in the room bounced between Deacon, Eugene, and Bri. I felt like I’d stepped into an awkward sparring match. Beside Bri, the red-haired Westerner—Tavar, I supposed—simply looked annoyed.

  “Every mission has risks,” Bri said at last, still focused on her pack. Her voice was quiet, her tone even. “I just want everyone to come home safe.” She glanced up and her gaze met mine for a split second before sliding away, a slight frown on her lips.

  “Well said, Bri.” Cole closed the top of his pack. “Alba, you set?”

  The rest of the team stared at me.

  I swallowed. “Yes. I … ah … think so.” All I’d done was change into the uniform and adjust the pack’s straps to fit me. I’d folded my navy dress and left it under the bench where I was sitting, next to my heeled boots and soft jacket. I was the only one without a weapon, which seemed fitting, since I’d probably just stab myself with whatever they gave me and waste healing magic taking care of my own wound.

  “Then let’s head out. Fomewagon’s waiting in the back.”

  The dull, black fomewagon was enormous, with thick tires almost as tall as me and a dusty, canvas cover over the back. I took Deacon’s hand when he offered it and climbed into the back behind Bri, Tavar, Eugene, and several men whose names I had already forgotten.

  The moment everyone was seated, the fomewagon surged forward. My heartbeat stuttered. Was this really happening?

  The heavy canvas cover blocked most of the light from the dawn sky and the luminous streetlamps that were still on. After several minutes of riding in silence, Deacon flipped on a small lantern and hung it from a hook on the metal frame over our heads. “I know you get scared of the dark, Eugene.”

  In the low light, I saw Eugene scowl and slouch on the bench where he sat. “We’ll see who gets scared.”

  Deacon glanced at the other Sentinels then leaned closer to me, a mischievous look in his eyes. “You’re very beautiful. You probably already know that.”

  I felt my cheeks heat and hoped no one else had heard him. “Mm.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the last I’ll say of it. I’m a professional, after all.” He held out his hand. “Deacon. Medic for the 19th.”

  I shook his hand and released a bit of healing magic on instinct. “Alba Mattas. Um … attached healer for the 19th, I suppose.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alba.” His eyes widened. “Ah … Did you just heal my headache?”

  “And the hairline fracture in your right ankle,” I murmured. He frowned. Had I done something wrong? “I’m sorry. Sometimes I can’t help it. It’s just something I do for my friends, especially when I’m nervous.”

  Deacon nodded slowly and ran his hand over his beard. “Well, thank you, friend,” he finally said, his eyes crinkling kindly. He rotated his ankle. “Don’t do that too often, understand?” He winked. “I’ll go soft.”

  I nodded. “Sorry, again. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

  He nodded, but he lowered his voice further. “And don’t do that to anyone else. Sentinels tend to be wary around talented mages.”

  A nervous flutter rippled in my chest. “I understand. I just want to help.” And survive this mission.

  He nodded. “If the moment comes when a Sentinel’s life or limb hangs in the balance, I’ll take all the magical help you can give. Until then …”

  I stuck my hands into the pockets of my black uniform jacket. “Until then, I’ll keep my fingers to myself.” I managed a cheerful smile. “Promise.”

  “That smile.” He winced and shook his head. “You’re a heartbreaker, Alba Mattas. No wonder Commander Darian doesn’t bring you around the compound.”

  I laughed quietly. If only he knew how I really felt about the Sentinels. “I thought you weren’t going to mention it again.”

  “That was the last time.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “There. Done. Purely professional from now on.”

  I wiggled my hands in my pockets. “That makes two of us.”

  “Grab a hold,” the driver called from the front. “We’re leaving the road.”

  A jarring bump beneath the fomewagon, followed by a continuous, bone-shaking rattle, threatened to unseat me. I ripped my hands out of my pockets and grabbed the edge of the bench. “We’re outside the city?” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the noisy rumble.

  Deacon settled back against the side of the fomewagon, his grip on the bench loose and confident. “I think we passed through the gates while you were healing my ankle.”

  “Oh.” I felt a bead of sweat drip down my spine. The tightness in my throat threatened to cut off my breathing completely. I tried to breathe deeply. You’ll be fine. You’ll be safe. There’s no reason to be afraid. Dad does this all the time.

  On the other side of the fomewagon, Bri and Tavar mirrored Deacon’s relaxed pose. Bri’s eyes were closed, like she was so bored she might as well take a nap.

  Dad does this all the …

  My heart raced. Sweat dripped down my temples. I shut my eyes as the fomewagon started to spin around me. Stop panicking, Alba. They think you’re weak already. You’re just making it worse.

  I opened my eyes and caught a concerned, sidelong glance from Deacon.

  No. I can’t do this. It’s not safe, and I am not going to be fine!

  I released a flood of magic, soothing my nerves just as I’d done for my mom that morning, then cooling my overheated temperature. I inhaled and exhaled. The panic eased. I rested the back of my head against the fomewagon and shut my eyes, copying Bri’s pose.

  Outside the city. I could do this.

  I’d survive this mission. I’d get home safe in two weeks. And I’d never speak to another Procus lord again.

  The moment I got back, I’d return that awful locket to Ella. The quest for true love had nearly ruined my life. It was time to call off the search.

  Chapter 7

  “We’re here,” Cole called from the front passenger seat. “Get ready for a hike. We’ll clear as much as we can of Section 1 while the light holds, then we’ll camp for the night.”

  My panic returned full force at his words. “Where are we?” I asked Deacon.

  He rotated his small, weatherproof map so I could read it. “Eastern edge of the Gold Hills.” He tapp
ed at the base of a mountain labeled Mount Vellus. “We’re clearing the southern face of this mountain. Seven sections, two days per section.” He shrugged. “Should take about two weeks. Less if we’re efficient and don’t run into any trouble.”

  “Trouble?” I pulled my pack close to my legs to clear the walkway as the other Sentinels grabbed their packs and filed past us to disembark. The afternoon light filtering in from the open door at the back of the fomewagon hurt my eyes. I didn’t want to leave the safety of the canvas cover. The very thought of my boot hitting the dry, angry earth of the Badlands made me start to sweat.

  “Badlanders, wild animals, bad weather. Don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll see a curse.” He rolled up his black jacket sleeve to reveal a network of pale, raised scar tissue that wasn’t quite obscured by his elaborate tattoos. “I haven’t encountered a single one since I got this four years ago.”

  My chest constricted. “What happened four years ago?”

  “I stepped on a buried curse in the woods. The Masters left them all over the Gold Hills for us to find. No rhyme or reason, no pattern of any kind. Just … vindictive. They really hate us, I guess.” His lips thinned. “Before I could get my crystal out, the curse sent slashes of fire over my skin. The team tracker next to me used his obcillo crystal to break the curse, but the fire had already left its mark.”

  I shut my eyes. The now-empty fomewagon was spinning again. “I could—” My chest convulsed, then grew tighter. I tried to draw in a breath but choked on the air. “If you want, I could heal—”

  “Alba.” I was dimly aware of Deacon shifting then standing. “You need to breathe.”

  “I could heal the—” I pressed my hands to my rigid, dry throat. My heart pounded so hard, it hurt my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, but the darkness seemed to be spinning now.

  Deacon’s warm presence disappeared.

  Hushed voices spoke. Then—

  “Sis.” Bri’s cool voice was right in front of me. “Open your eyes.”

  I peered at her, whimpering as nausea greeted me with the light. My sister’s blue-green eyes were just inches away.

  “I can’t do it, Bri. You know I can’t.”

  “I know you can.” Bri looked frustrated, but her tone was gentle. “And you must. You can’t stay here alone, but you can’t go back to Asylia, not after what happened with that man and his family. You’re going to do this. You’re stronger than you know, remember?”

  My eyes grew moist. How could she bring up that afternoon in Prince Estevan’s office after all these years of ignoring me? “Not this time.”

  She shook her head firmly. “You were strong enough to survive thirteen years of hiding and getting kidnapped by the Crimson Blight. Strong enough to heal Prince Estevan when the whole city was at stake.” She frowned, as though she could make me stronger by sheer frustration. “This mission is nothing compared to what you’ve already survived. You can do this, Alba. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

  The troubled look in her eyes was at odds with her soothing words, but I found myself calming all the same. “You really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  Then why did she look so sad?

  “Fine.” I exhaled, and my throat finally relaxed. Her confidence in me was working even better than my healing magic had earlier. “I’ll try. Thanks, Bri.”

  She offered a half-smile, and the rare sight made the rest of my panic dissipate. “Come on. Let’s go out there together.”

  I stood and followed her out of the fomewagon, pulling my pack behind me.

  When I stepped down from the high fomewagon onto the dusty ground, she reached out and steadied me.

  It was just a brief touch, but it made me want to fling my arms around her. I’d missed my twin sister’s friendship for five years, but I’d never come close to obtaining it.

  Apparently, all I’d needed to do was come with her to the Badlands.

  ~

  We left the dusty fomewagon where the land rose away from the plain. Our path took us up the wooded slopes of the Gold Hills’ eastern edge.

  The forest thickened as we climbed, forcing us to hike in a single-file line. We followed Tavar at the front.

  Behind him went Bri, Cole, several older Sentinels with beards like Deacon’s, Eugene, me, and Deacon. A final Sentinel Deacon’s age brought up the rear.

  “Hey, Alba. See that tree? I know it looks dangerous, with all those sharp, scary needles, but don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” Eugene snickered and faked a lunge toward me as we passed the tree in question, clearly hoping I’d flinch.

  I rolled my eyes and kept hiking without faltering, trying not to show how much his teasing was embarrassing me. I’d nearly let my panic keep me inside the fomewagon, so I’d certainly earned some teasing. Might as well accept it without arguing.

  “Keep your eyes ahead, idiot,” Deacon grumbled from behind me. “The Gold Hills are no place for stupid jokes.”

  “Sorry.” Eugene faced forward as the ground leveled out, but not before shooting me a knowing smirk.

  “We’ll stop here for a quick drink, then we’ll press on to the campsite,” Cole said. The Sentinels spread out on the rocky ground, claiming seats on the dusty, needle-covered stones.

  I hunched down on a fallen log beside Bri, wanting to edge closer to her but afraid I’d frighten her off if I let her know how much I needed her presence. “How much further to the campsite?” I was already looking forward to nightfall, and we’d only been walking for two hours.

  Bri fiddled with her canteen and didn’t meet my eyes. “Probably another hour or two. We’ll try to cover as much ground as we can before then.”

  I nodded. “It’s so cold out here.” I blew on my hands. “I thought it would be warmer since it’s spring.”

  “The mountains are always cold. Here.” She pulled a pair of thick, black gloves out of her pack and handed them to me. “Keeping your hands warm will help.”

  I took them and put them on, feeling warmed by more than the gloves. “But won’t you need them?”

  “No.” Bri closed her pack, her expression flint-like. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Hey!” Eugene shot to his feet and raised his crossbow to his shoulder, his eyes wide. “What was that?”

  Cole put his hand on his crossbow and glanced where Eugene was pointing, then relaxed. “A squirrel.” His voice shook with restrained laughter. “Calm down, kid. You’re going to shoot one of us.”

  Eugene’s shoulders tensed. He stared into the woods, his brow furrowed. “You sure?”

  “You can shoot the squirrel if you want.” Deacon leaned back and stretched. “But then you’ll have to eat it.”

  Eugene’s lip curled beneath his wispy mustache. “I’m not joking this time. I thought I saw something.” He finally lowered his crossbow and shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

  “Break’s over,” Cole said. “If you’re looking for a fight, we might as well start walking and see if we can find one.”

  I shivered. Bri glanced at me. “He’s joking,” she said quietly before looking away. “You’ll be fine, Albs,” she added as she stood and stared vacantly into the woods. “We’ll all be fine.”

  Albs. For the first time in ages, I didn’t hate my nickname.

  I fell in place behind Eugene as we resumed hiking, weaving through the dense trees. His shoulders were tense, his grip tight on his crossbow.

  We hiked across the level forest ground for several minutes before Cole spoke.

  “Eyes out. Looks like a camp to the left of those trees.” Cole raised a warning hand, and we stopped in place. “Bri and Tavar, go check it out.”

  I bit my lip as my sister peeled away from the group and joined Tavar to stalk toward the odd collection of stumps and sticks Cole had indicated. The two moved in perfect unison without even looking at each other. No wonder Cole had paired them together.

  “Sentinels approaching,” Tavar called out with his brusque, accented voice.
“We mean no harm to you as long as you mean no harm to us.”

  “Come out with your hands where we can see them,” Bri added. “Now.”

  They stopped several feet from the camp, but no one emerged.

  For one long, tense moment, the woods were silent, the only sound the rustling of spring wind through dry pine trees.

  “Tracker report,” Cole barked.

  Bri scanned the area. “No mages in the area,” she called back. “Except Alba.”

  “There!” Eugene raised his crossbow and fired a bolt in the opposite direction of the camp.

  “What is it? Tell me it’s not another squirrel.”

  “Someone’s out there, Deacon. I saw movement.” Eugene ran in the direction he’d fired. “Too big to be a stricken squirrel,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Get back here, Eugene.” Cole strode over to me and Deacon, his scowl furious. “You don’t fire a shot until you know they mean us harm!” he shouted after Eugene. “You know that.”

  Eugene paused but kept his back to us. “I’ll just check it out. Be right back.”

  Cole swore under his breath and gestured to the Sentinel who’d been hiking at the rear. “Go with the kid. Make sure he doesn’t shoot some poor Badlander.” When the bearded Sentinel took off through the woods after Eugene, Cole waved his hand at Bri and Tavar, who were still by the camp with their weapons out. “Clear the camp and surrounding area!” he yelled.

  “We need cover, Cole,” Deacon said from behind me. I edged to the side to give him space. “If we have hostile Badlanders in the area, we’re in the wrong place to defend against an attack.”

  Cole looked around, his lips pressed in a thin line. “There.” He pointed ahead, where the ground started to slope up again. A cluster of large boulders were lodged at the bottom of the slope. “Take the rest of the team. I’ll stay with Bri and Tavar.”

  Deacon nodded and gestured for me to follow him. I stuck close behind him as the other Sentinels jogged with us to the boulders. We duck down between the shoulder-high rocks and the upward-sloping terrain.