Blood of the Guardian (25 page)

“And take this one to the dungeons.”

Maska scowled. “I’m uncertain we have a cell to contain him.”

“Use the light shackles, two or three sets if need be. Bind him like a pig for slaughter as far as I care.”

“Emery?” Maska asked as a trio of Strength Rol’dan dragged Ekon away.

Several heads pivoted toward him.

“I mean, Your Majesty?” Maska corrected. “You will need someone who can track.”

Emery nodded. “General, hold up for a moment.”

The light in Kael’s eyes faded. “Your Grace?”

“Can you carry Maska?”

Kael’s brows shot up. Maska was not a small man. “Carry him? Last time we took Lieuten—”

“I know, General,” Emery said. “But can Lieutenant McKlear speak Talasian?”

Kael opened his mouth, then closed it. “No.”

“Maska can track well, even without Perception. Greer is still searching for Nolan, so we have no one else who can speak to the princess when found.”

Kael sighed, clearly not liking the suggestion. “I have a man who might be able to carry him.”

Megan released her skirts; she’d practically knotted them at her sides. How could she sit around, doing nothing, while Emery ignored her? She stepped forward. “Let me go. If Alec is hurt, you’ll need a Healer.”

Emery gawked. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Megan asked. “If they already have to carry Maska, they will need someone who is light. I won’t hinder them as much as some others. And I want to go.”

Emery grabbed her arm, yanking her off to the side. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “No, Meg.”

“Why?” she snapped. “I’ve been out with you on missions. Emery, I’m one of the best healers you have!”

“I know that,” Emery said. “But you can’t. You’re queen now. There are risks. Besides,” he added, “what about …
other things
?”

Meg glanced over her shoulder and caught several officers inspecting the walls, inspecting the tapestries. They were looking every which way, except at them.

She turned back to Emery, who was now scowling at her.

She tightened her jaw.
Oh, this isn’t done, my love. Not even close.
“Don’t forget, a bunch of your soldiers were killed right under our noses. What makes you think I am more protected here?”

He opened his mouth to object, but she kept going. “I’m sick of sitting around here, pampered like some helpless flower. Emery, just because I married you it doesn’t change me as a person. If I have to sit around and do nothing all the time, I’ll scream.”

Emery reached for her. “Meg, please. Lower your—”

“There’re all listening anyway,” she said, flinging her arm out toward the eavesdroppers.

A few soldiers cleared their throats, and others started cleaning their weapons.

She turned back to Emery, her eyes fixed with stubborn resolve. “I’m going.”

Emery released an exasperated breath. “Fine. Go then.” He turned to Kael. “Let nothing happen to her.”

Kael grinned. “I’ll carry her myself.”

Megan’s triumph deflated. Since the moment she met him, she hadn’t cared much for Kael. That was the day he ripped open his breeches and forced her to heal him. It was also the day he’d killed Alec. As Kat so frequently put it, he was an arrogant cad. But if she could help Alec, she’d do it anyway.

Emery leaned toward her, whispering, “I don’t like this.”

“I’m fine. The illness has all but left, and I’m not far enough along to endanger anything.”

He eyed her skeptically, and his Empathy flared, examining her emotions. He relaxed and breathed a long sigh. “All right. But please, be safe.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Be back soon.”

Stepping off, she felt his eyes on her. One moment, he ignored her. The next, he protected her. She knew he cared for her, but when they were alone in the privacy of their room, he withdrew. He didn’t even want to be near her. Emery frustrated her so much. This trip would be good, give them space and time to think. Maybe when she returned, he’d be ready for that conversation.

After a quick trip to change into riding breeches—which was improper for her new position—she headed out the doors onto the open field near the gates to Faylinn. Maska waited there, along with three other Speed Rol’dan.

Kat, thank Brim, turned and met her eyes. She smiled. Over the last month, they’d become good friends. She was grateful Kat would be going along. Another soldier stood next to Kat; he was tall and muscled for a Speed Rol’dan. Megan assumed he would have the task of carrying Maska. The poor guy would have his work cut out for him.

The soldier and Maska spoke, then Maska turned. Their eyes met, and he abruptly looked away.

It was like this between them now. The awkwardness. Every time she saw him, memories flooded her mind.
Being
with someone, even if they hadn’t initiated it, changed things. Her face flushed thinking about it.

She placed a hand on her stomach, trying not to think of the baby. It was hard not to, especially with Maska right there. Was the baby his? She still didn’t know. How awkward would it be for them if it ended up being his?

Kael turned to her, smirking, drawing her from her thoughts. She inhaled a sharp breath. He
was
handsome, she had to admit. He looked a lot like Nolan used to … only naughtier. Kael always had an expression of mischief. Megan scowled and approached him. Apparently, he’d be carrying her on this trip.

Kael squatted and gave a smack to his backside. “Ready to ride me, my lady?”

One of the other soldiers, a man with graying hair, gave a snort. He silenced with a glare from Megan.
What did I get myself into?
She sighed and hoisted herself onto Kael’s back.

He helped her, gripping her thighs and boosting her hind end up with his hands. She choked back a squeak of surprise.
Is this necessary?
After she was finally in place, he looked over his shoulder, grinning wide enough to make Megan even more nervous. His twinkling blue eyes filled with golden light. “Best to hang on tight.”

She nodded, her heart thundering. She reluctantly wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping his chest. He chuckled. “Ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be,” she said, her voice shaking.

He put a hand firmly on her arms, locking her in place. And before she could change her mind, he took off, leaving her stomach behind.

Chapter Twenty-Three

WHEN THEY’D FINALLY STOPPED, Megan slid off Kael and ran into the trees. Apparently, she hadn’t completely recovered from her nausea. They’d been going so fast her head spun, and now, even after they’d stopped, the branches swayed and wavered as if she were still in motion. She closed her eyes, swallowing, doing her best to control her stomach.

After wiping her mouth with some weeds, she returned to the others. The man who’d carried Maska leaned against the tree, rubbing his shoulder with a large hand.

She stopped in front of him. “Can I help?”

“Aye. Would be much appreciated, Your Majesty.”

Reaching up, she placed her fingers on his stubbled cheek. His fatigue and aches melted into her: a crick in her back; fiery pain in her shoulders; and her left knee throbbed. She held back a groan as the sensations faded, leaving her blissfully pain-free. Maska must’ve weighed a ton.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing his head.

She nodded back, feeling embarrassed. He treated her like a queen. But of course, she
was
married to the King of Adamah. She scanned the soldier’s broad arms and wide shoulders. He reminded her of her friend Hakan.

“Are you a Higherlander?” she asked.

His mouth quirked. “Aye. That I am.”

“I have a friend from there. He’s bigger than you are, though. Gifted with Perception.”

“A Higherlander?” Maska said from nearby. “I can never get away from them!”

The soldier’s bushy brow rose in question.

“Don’t worry,” Megan said. “It was a compliment. As much as he complains, Hakan and he are good friends.”

“Hakan?” the man said. “Don’t think I know him.”

“He’ll be coming to Faylinn eventually,” Megan said. “I’ll introduce you.”

“Would like that,” he said. “Not many Higherlanders come into a Shay.”

Not yet.
The Higherlanders were always more open with the old religion, of Brim, and even the history of the stones. Nolan should go there on his next excursion. They might be more open to gaining the light. Next time she saw him, she’d suggest it.
If
Nolan ever came back.

Maska and the soldier started talking about Hakan and other random things. Surely it was an awkward situation. The soldier laughed, sounding a little like Hakan. She left them, searching for Kat. Instead, she saw Kael, his hands leaning on his knees.

Straightening, Kael pushed on his lower back and groaned like an old man. Megan frowned. She wasn’t
that
heavy.

She came up next to him, though he hardly noticed. He flinched when she touched his cheek. Before he could speak, she flared Healing, absorbing his aches and pains.

“Thank you, my lady.” He smirked and gave her a small bow.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said, his gaze intently fixed on hers. He held her eyes so long she had to look away.

He chuckled under his breath before addressing his soldiers. “We best get moving! Daylight doesn’t last forever. We are close to the location.”

They started pushing through the brush and Megan held back, getting some distance from the General. After he was a good ten paces in front of her, she stepped off, following behind.

Kat jogged, catching up to her. She matched Megan’s stride, adding a bounce to her step.

“Yes, Kat?”

“How was your trip?” she asked, grinning.

Megan snorted.

Kat barked in laugher, loud enough for the men to notice.

Megan leaned close to her. “Why don’t
you
ride his back on the way home?”

“Oh, no. I’ll leave that pleasure
all for you.”

“Pleasure? I still feel sick.”

“Speed takes getting used to. But I was talking more about your steed.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s something all right.”

Kat shrugged, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s a cad, for sure. But one doesn’t have to like him to admire the view.”

Megan swatted her arm. “Seriously, Kat?”

She grinned and motioned toward the general walking ahead. “Just look.”

And even though she didn’t want to, she complied. Kael strutted through the branches and twigs. His uniform did fit quite well …

Both Kat and Megan burst into giggles.

“The clearing is just ahead.” Kael turned, eyeing the two girls suspiciously. “Prepare yourself. It was bad when we passed by here to find Ekon. I imagine it will only be worse today.”

“What’s he talking about?” Megan asked, but her own question was answered as the wind shifted, and the smell of death hit them full force. They all stopped against the invisible wall of stench. Megan clamped her hand over her nose, her nausea resurfacing.

Kael motioned with one arm, the other slung over his face, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow. “This way,” he said, his voice muffled.

Megan didn’t speak, afraid to inhale. They emerged in the clearing, and Megan saw two bodies, bloated and covered in flies. Kat coughed and walked through. Megan nearly ran past her in an attempt to get away.

Megan waited as long as she could before she took a breath. Even then, she breathed through her mouth, avoiding the odor long after the others had recovered from the clearing. She didn’t want to risk it.

Maska stepped in front of Kael, taking over the search. They moved much slower as he examined the ground. Maska’s movements were catlike as he squatted, crouching, sometimes on all fours. Megan had always admired Maska. So graceful. So in control of every movement.

She flinched with a memory, a time when Alcandor had stripped Maska’s control away, leaving only primal instinct and suppressed rage. She shook away her building fear. That wasn’t Maska—not the real Maska. She’d known Maska for years. She refocused on what was important:
Alec. We need to save Alec.

Maska stood, pointing. “The traitors went this way. Strength users, my guess. They plow through the forest like simple-minded bears.” He yanked off a leaf and touched it to his tongue before spitting on the ground. “Blood trail goes this way.”

They left the path, and Maska led them on. He’d stop now and then, examining a tree. A rock. A branch. Occasionally, a Talasian curse would slip from his lips, then he’d relax and continue down another path.

“He traveled too fast,” Maska said. “The trail is faint and sporadic—spread out too much. It is hard to read. The farther we go, the easier it is to follow.” He scowled. “Which means he slowed as he ran.”