Knight Avenged (16 page)

His age shouldn’t have mattered. Youth was no excuse. Five years at Grey Keep had taught him well. He’d understood how to kill—quick and clean—even then. But by refusing his first kill, he’d made things worse. For himself certainly. But especially for her. Had he done as instructed and used his knife, she would’ve died with dignity. Instead she’d suffere
d . . .

Endless torment. Needless violence. Terrible pain.

All things at which Halál excelled.

But not tonight. This time would be different. What little honor he had left dictated the course. He would not fail Cosmina as he had the girl.

His boots crunched over an icy patch. Sound rippled, pinging off stone, rising beneath weak moonlight in the frosty air. Veering right, Henrik ducked behind a massive tombstone and slid to a halt. With a huff, he swung Cosmina off his shoulder. She clung to him for a moment, then let go. The second her feet touched down, her knees buckled. Quick reflexes allowed him to catch her. Cupping her shoulders, he helped her sit down. White puffs escaped between her lips, joining his, frosting the air between them as she struggled to catch her breath.

He cupped her cheek, anchoring himself, trying to comfort her. “All right?”

“A little seasick.”

Henrik huffed at the analogy. ’Twas an apt description. Especially since she’d just suffered a serious bout of bob-and-weave atop his shoulder. “We’ll rest here a moment. ’Twill help settle your stomach.”

“Gods, I hope so.” Auburn lashes flickered a moment before she looked right at him.

He frowned. “Cosmin
a . . .
your eyes.”

“Is the color returning?”

Brushing his thumb over her eyebrow, he leaned closer. Thin fissures of dark green bled in from the outer edge of each iris, eating at the white, reaching for her pupils. It wasn’t much. Barely anything at all, but it gave him hope. If she could see, she could run. “Can you see anything?”

“Naught much. Just shadows, but ’tis a good sign.” Pushing her arms through the front fold of her cloak, she set his knife in her lap and cupped her hands. Both shook as she blew on her cold fingers. “A day, mayhap two, and my vision will return.”

“Good news.”

“’Twould be better if it happened faster.”

No question. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. He needed to work with what he had, not what she hoped would happen.

“How far away are we?” she asked, flexing her fingers to work blood back into the tips, making him wish he had gloves to give her.

“A league from the edge of the Limwoods.”

“Your dragon?”

“Not answering.”

“Try again, Henrik.” Sightless gaze fixed on him, she reached out and found his face. She fumbled a moment, fingertips sliding over his jaw before her palm settled against his cheek. “You can do it. Even while imprisoned, he was never far from you. A bond like that never dies.”

True enough. He’d felt it all his life. “Christ, ’tis eerie how much you know.”

“The curse of my gift,” she whispered, raising her other hand. Cold fingers touched the side of his throat a second before she pressed her thumb to his pulse point. “Try again.”

The north wind howled, pushing against his back.

Henrik didn’t fight it. Instead, he leaned in, feeling the warmth as her skin heated against his, and touched his forehead to hers. She murmured. He took the encouragement and opened his mind wide. She thought he could do it. He was willing to try—again and again—if only to keep her safe, far from harm’s way. Filling his lungs to capacity, he exhaled long and slow. Her thumb drifted over his jugular. Back and forth. A soft glide coupled with a smooth return. ’Twas hypnotic, a rare drift that helped him go with the flow. He sank deeper into her embrace.

Magic sparked.

The gloom gathered, enclosing them in a cloak of invisibility.

Hidden from view, safe for the moment, Henrik relaxed into the stream that housed enchantment and rose whenever he fought. A blast of frigid air shoved at him again, tearing at his hair, pulling the hood from Cosmina’s head. A riot of curls, her hair tumbled, brushing his temples, and—

The signal whiplashed, reaching across distance and mental space.

Henrik bared his teeth, and holding the message in his mind, threw it like a dagger. It whirled end over end, then struck home. Static hissed, slithering in, then out, as it gathered speed inside his head. A growl came through the cosmic weave.

His breath hitched.
“Tareek.”

“Airborne. On my way.”

Henrik flinched as the voice punched through, raking the inside of his skull. Cosmina shifted, pressing her cheek to his, helping ground him, bu
t . . .
sweet Christ. Talk about bizarre. It was working. He could
hear
his friend. Was communicating through—

Well hell, he didn’t know what to call it.

“How close?”
he asked, testing the link, struggling to stay connected.

“Five minutes out.”

“Too long. We’re under attack.”

“I know.”
Scales rattled as wind whistled through the connection.
“Hold tight. I’m circling around. Head for high ground.”

Henrik frowned. High ground meant he needed to move west, not toward the northern rim as planned.
“Where’s Kazim?”

“Riding hard for River’s Bend. Edge of the—”

Heavy static washed in as the storm moaned overhead. Snow blew in, swirling thick and white around him. Fisting his hands in Cosmina’s cloak, he dipped his head and pressed his forehead to the top of her shoulder, desperate to hang on to Tareek’s voice. The cosmic tether whiplashed, then snapped, whirling out into empty space, severing the connection.

“Goddamn it.”

“Did you reach him?” Cosmina asked, the urgency in her voice telling. Her palm slid across the nape of his neck and into his hair. Fingers buried in the short strands, she flexed her hand. “Did you—”

“Aye.” Lifting his head, he broke her hold. “We need to move.”

She nodded and, injured arm tucked to her side, rolled to her knees. “Let’s go. I can run for a while if you need me to.”

The offer leveled him. Christ, she was something. Far too brave for her own good. Brushing tendrils of hair from her face, he caressed her cheek. She shivered and leaned in, turning into his touch instead of away, making his chest go tight and his heart pound hard. “You’ll only slow me down. Conserve your strength, Cosmina. ’Twill be better for you in the—”

The scrape of footfalls rose from the other side of the tombstone.

Henrik glanced right. Blown clean by the wind, a sheet of ice reflected a flash of movement. With a snarl, he palmed his sword hilt and drew hard. Steel whined against leather as he shoved Cosmina backward. Her back thumped against stone. Air left her lungs in a rush. Ignoring her gasp of surprise, he leveled his blade and pivoted on the balls of his feet. Magic crackled, attacking the chill around him. Tightening his grip, he strengthened the cloak of invisibility, deepening the shadows and—
Andrei skidded around the edge of the tombstone.

Shay spun around the other side, sliding to a stop in the narrow aisle. Brows drawn tight, he scanned the terrain, gaze skipping over Henrik without registering his presence. Henrik’s mouth curved. Excellent. A good sign. As much as he disliked the magic, the invisibility shield worked for him. Particularly if it ensured he stayed hidde
n . . .
from everyone, brothers-in-arms included. Gaze narrowed on Shay, Henrik dropped his sword tip and, with a murmur, widened the scope of his spell. Both warriors slid inside his web, disappearing into thin air alongside him.

Shay jumped backward. “Jesu!”

“
Merde
.” Andrei threw him a startled look. “I knew you were over here somewhere. I could feel you, bu
t . . .
”

“Couldn’t see me?”

Low flames flickered, cascading over Andrei’s shoulders. “Nifty trick.”

“Only if it keeps us alive.” Reaching up and over, Henrik re-sheathed his sword. He crouched in front of Cosmina. His gaze slid over her face. Goddamn, she was pale. Far too cold—sliding fast into fatigue too. With a quick flick, he unbuckled his cloak. Wool snapped as he threw the fur-lined mantle around her shoulders. “Here, love.”

“Nay, Henrik.” Lashes shielding her eyes, she shoved at his hands. “’Tis too cold. You need it.”

“Not as much as you.”

“I’m all right. Don’t—”

“No arguing.”

Finished bundling her into his cloak, he threaded the clasp and pulled it tight. Eyes riveted to her face, he debated a moment. Should he or shouldn’t he? Getting any closer was no doubt a bad idea. Still temptation called and he couldn’t deny the urge to touch her. Just a bit more. What could it possibly hurt? Not much, considering he already stood neck-deep in infatuation. Past the point of no return—responsible for her care, in charge of keeping her safe, yearning to provide comfort even as he called himself a first-class fool. S
o . . .

Forget about doing the right thing. Wrong sounded a helluva lot better.

Hand shaking a little, he reached out again. Her hair caressed his palm, then tangled between his fingertips, whispering over his skin as he sank into her curls. He breathed deep, playing in the thick strands, gathering up the tendrils, twisting until the mass settled against the nape of her neck, an
d . . .

Desire burned a heated trail south. His body tightened. His heart throbbed. His mind went sideways inside his head, and Henrik swallowed. So inappropriate. Not even close to advisable, bu
t . . .
holy God. She had gorgeous hair. So soft and thick. So rich a red he wanted to get lost for a while and jus
t . . .

Linger.

In her warmth. In her beauty. In the trust she showed by allowing him so close.
Him
. An assassin with little honor and even less worth.

The thought set him straight. Regret hit hard. He withdrew, untangling his hand from her tresses, distancing himself even as he mourned the separation. ’Twas stupid. Abject idiocy to want something more. Something pure and right. Something untouched by violence and the harsh reality he lived every day. She wasn’t his. He didn’t want her to be.

Case closed. Slam the lid, block it out, and let it lie.

Releasing a pent-up breath, he dragged his gaze from her face. Intense blue eyes met his, then ping-ponged, moving from him to Cosmina, then back again. Andrei raised a brow. Henrik almost cringed. He caught himself at the last moment. Smart son of a bitch. His comrade didn’t miss much and understood even more.

Henrik nailed his friend with a warning look. “Don’t say it.”

“Not even thinking it,” Andrei said, a glint of amusement in his gaze. Henrik gritted his teeth. Andrei’s lips twitched, then smoothed into serious lines. Unclipping his bladed boomerang from his belt, he tested its weight. As the weapon bobbed in his hand, he peeked around the edge of the tombstone. “Game plan?”

“Need one fast.” Crouched to his left, Shay threw him a sidelong look. “How much time before they reach us?”

“Minutes.” His eyes narrowed, Henrik tuned back into the unique signature Halál emitted. The signal sizzled, helping him estimate time and distance. “The bastards have split into three packs.”

Andrei grunted. “Multiple points of attack.”

“Even more ways to hem us in.” Expression grave, Shay sheathed twin daggers in favor of throwing stars. As the razor-sharp discs settled in his hands, he scanned the aisle opposite him. “They’ll have trouble finding us, though.”

“Not much,” Henrik said. “We left footprints in the snow.”

“Nay, we haven’t.”

Gaze steady on Shay’s, Henrik raised a brow, asking without words.

His apprentice shrugged. “Snow is made of water.”

Cosmina drew a soft breath. “You’re covering our tracks.”

“One snow drift at a time.”

“Good. Keep it up,” Henrik said. “Time to go.”

Pushing to his feet, Andrei circled around behind him. “Any chance you can hide our movements?”

If only. He wished. Too bad wishing and wanting never counted. He’d spent the last month fighting the magic in his blood, not exploring it. An unwise decision. Practice, after all, made perfect. “I cannot gather the gloom while on the run yet, so as soon as we mov
e . . .
”

Shay cursed. “The bastards will see us.”

“Aye.”

“
Merde
.”

“Head for the crypts on the west side. Higher ground.” Focus narrowed, Henrik reached for Cosmina. As she settled in his arms, he sent out another ping. Magic spiraled outward. Nothing came back. No answer from Tareek. No cosmic signal of any kind. Tension crawled along his spine. He brushed it aside. It couldn’t be helped, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “If we get separated, rendezvous at River’s Bend.”

His comrades nodded.

He glanced at Andrei. “On my mar
k . . .
”

Andrei tensed, preparing to break cover.

“And Shay?”

“Aye.”

“Rear flank. Watch our backs.” Giving Cosmina a gentle squeeze, Henrik tightened his grip and dipped his head. She nodded, telling him to go. Muscles flexing around her, he lifted her off the ground. The curve of her belly connected with his shoulder as he flipped her upside down. She settled with a gasp. He pushed to his feet and got ready to move. “Go.”

Boot treads scraping over ice, Andrei lunged into the aisle between tidy rows of tombstones. The air expanded, then contracted, slamming into the cloak he held with his mind. Magic snapped, then recoiled. Henrik bore down, struggled to hold on, bu
t . . .

A sharp pop exploded through the silence.

The invisibility shield shattered. Andrei materialized out of thin air. Henrik leapt after his friend, racing across the narrow laneway. A shout rang out, rising on the midnight air. An answering yell echoed across the cemetery as the call went up. Henrik cursed under his breath. Enemy message sent and received. So much for covert movement and silent escape.

He’d been spotted. Now the Druinguari converged on his position.