Rion (20 page)

While the water heated, he shredded the hem of his tunic with a sharp-edged piece of metal, then carefully separated the longest
thread from the others. He thrust his makeshift needle into the fire for a few seconds and waved it through the air to cool
it.

These conditions were far from sterile. But he didn’t know what more he could do with the supplies at hand.

After the water had boiled, he waited for it to cool. Finally, he dipped more cloth he’d torn from his shirt into the water
and began to clean her wound. The cut was jagged. Dirty.

His gentle dabbing reopened the wound, and more blood flowed. But he kept cleaning, eventually resorting to trickling water
from the pipe directly onto her scalp.

She sputtered once, opened her eyes, then closed them again. But at last, the wound looked dirt-free. As gently as possible,
he fitted the palm-sized flap of scalp into place, satisfied he saw no major gaps. Then he began to sew.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” She swatted at his hand and thrashed.

“Easy. Easy.” He straddled her side, using his knees to trap her hands but keeping most of his weight from pressing her down.
“This is going to sting a little.”

“It hurts!”

Her cry tore at him. “I know. I’m sorry. But I have to patch you up.” He kept murmuring a steady patter as he sewed. “The
wound is clean, and you’re going to heal as good as new.” Unsure if she was conscious, he prayed she’d passed out and couldn’t
feel the needle going in and out of her scalp.

But when he sat back to study his handiwork, she opened her eyes. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God.” She released a long breath. “Get off me, please.”

“Of course.” He’d been so focused on the wound, making sure he’d closed all the flesh and left no hair in the gaps, that he’d
forgotten he was still holding her down.

She glanced from the bloody cloths to his fingers covered with her blood. “If you’re done performing brain surgery, we should
probably get out of here.”

Marisa didn’t sound quite like herself, but her attempt at a jest cheered him. Still he felt compelled to warn her, “When
the shock wears off, your head’s going to hurt like hell.”

“But I’ll be okay?”

“Your brain’s fine—as far as I know. You just had a surface cut.”

She scowled. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore?”

“A large surface cut,” he amended with relief. If she felt up to arguing, he figured she’d be fine. “If infection doesn’t
set in, you should heal quickly. And your hair will hide the scar.”

“Thanks. Sorry, I’m not a good patient. Next time I have stitches, I’d prefer it was under anesthesia.”

“Let’s hope there is no next time.” He helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily against him and he wrapped an arm around
her waist. “How’re you feeling?”

“Dizzy. Light-headed. Cold.”

“Maybe we should rest.” He looked at her tawny skin. She was pale, but her jaw gritted with her determination to stay on her
feet.

“We can’t stay here. Look.” She pointed toward the sky.

Damn it. He’d been so focused on her he hadn’t noticed the squad of aircraft heading their way. Unari. Six aircraft with guns
forward and aft.

“Let’s go.” He kicked the fire apart, hiding all traces of their survival, except their footprints. However, it was still
snowing, and in a few more minutes their tracks would fill in. “If we stay out of sight, perhaps we’ll luck out and the Unari
will assume we died in the crash.”

She picked up a branch to use as a walking stick. But even with the extra support, Marisa required his help. Weak from loss
of blood, she needed food and rest. Antibiotics and a doctor would be even better.

She didn’t complain and stepped forward gingerly. But as he slipped an arm around her waist, he could feel her trembling against
his side. “We need to move away from the crash site as fast as we can.”

The hum of the aircraft grew louder.

“Can they see our heat signatures from the air?” she asked.

“They didn’t have that kind of technology when I left. But the smoking debris should provide cover.”

She nodded, then winced in pain. “But once we leave the area…”

“We have no choice.” Rion half carried her from the crash site. “If we stay, they’ll find us.”

“Which way?” she asked.

“Toward the trees.”

If Chivalri dies, then Honor is without her heart and will die, for the Goddess has withdrawn her soul from all the realm.

—C
HIVALRI KING

E
ach step pounded like a hammer blow to Marisa’s head. Hot and cold flashes hit her at random. The drone of Unari ships grew
louder. It seemed as though someone had been hunting her ever since she’d left Earth.

Rion hurried her through the forest, and the alien landscape lent a nightmarish edge to her pain. She didn’t think the taste
of the smoke that made breathing painful would ever leave her mouth.

She had a hard time recalling when her head hadn’t throbbed, when the vegetation had smelled familiar, when the gravity under
her feet didn’t make her unsteady. She wouldn’t have made the first hundred yards without Rion’s help. They kept a steady
pace for at least an hour and finally stopped to drink from a stream. Rion helped lower her to the bank, then cupped his fingers
so she could drink from his hands.

His kindness and the cool water revived her sagging energy. He’d sewn her wound, then half carried her from the crash site,
their bodies pressed tightly together. Despite her need to protect herself and keep an emotional distance, intimacy was growing
between them again. She’d wanted to drink in his strength. Lean into him for comfort.

She had to remain vigilant. Remind herself that he was helping her for his own reasons. That they could have no future together.
Nevertheless, she would have been rude and ungrateful not to acknowledge he was half carrying her. “Thanks.”

He studied her with concern. “If I remember correctly, it’s not much farther.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the royal mountain house—Winhaven.”

Her pounding head didn’t prevent her from objecting to his plan. “Won’t Winhaven be the first place the Unari will look for
survivors of the crash?”

He shrugged. “Not if they believe we died.”

She tied her fear into a tight, controllable knot. “But when they don’t find our bodies…”

His response was gentle yet firm. “You need food, rest, and shelter. I won’t have you sleeping on the ground.”

“Better the ground than a cell or a grave.” Battered or not, she couldn’t let his need to protect her from the elements ruin
his mission. Trying to hide her weariness, she shot him a hard look. “If I weren’t injured, you’d never go there, would you?”

“But you are injured.”

She couldn’t refute his logic. Besides, arguing taxed her strength. Thinking was hard when her head felt like someone was
using it for drum practice. She’d kill for an aspirin.

Rion wet a scrap of cloth in the stream, wrung it out, and placed it on her forehead. “Better?”

“Yeah—” She nodded, then winced as more pain flooded through her. Closing her eyes, she mumbled, “Note to self. No extraneous
head movements.”

“We should move on.”

She agreed, but a five-minute nap would do wonders. “Just a few more minutes, okay?”

Sitting in the sun, the cool cloth on her brow, she felt her body grow heavy. Eyes closed, she rested her forehead against
her knees and listened to the tweeting of birds, the fluttering of small squirrel-like creatures, and dozed off.

When she opened her eyes, Rion was carrying her, striding through the forest as if she weighed nothing. A warm tingle spread
through her and into her core. After that crash, who would have thought her battered body could even produce such a hormone?
Even her fear of the Unari catching them couldn’t mitigate her attraction to Rion.

She watched the sun setting low on the horizon, trying once more to maintain an emotional distance. There was no snow. She
estimated several hours had passed. Several hours with her breasts snuggled against his chest and her cheek cradled by his
shoulder.

“Feel better?” Rion asked, his voice a silky male purr.

“The rest helped. You don’t have to carry me. I’m awake now.”

“I didn’t mind.” He set her down as if she was cherished, priceless. As if he feared she might still topple, he kept a hand
on her waist.

His tenderness overwhelmed her. She refused to meet his eyes. Didn’t want him to see the desire coursing through her.

Get a grip.
She took in a deep breath and let out the air on a long sigh. “Any sign of the Unari?”

“None. But I haven’t heard their ships fly off the mountain, either.”

Which meant the Unari remained on the ground. Probably searching for them. “It’s been a long time. You think they’re still
combing the wreckage for our bodies? Or are they now hunting for us?”

“If they’re trying to track us, they won’t find signs of our passing. Or pick up our scent.” He grinned down at his wet boots,
clearly pleased. “I walked downstream for a few miles.”

If she had to be stuck on an alien world with an enemy hunting her, she couldn’t have asked for a more skilled or caring companion.

“The royal house—Winhaven? How much farther is it?” She tried to keep the weariness from her voice.

“I’m not sure.” His brows narrowed. “I’ve only been there once, a long time ago, and we flew in.”

“Are you saying we’re lost?”

He peered at the setting sun, then over his shoulder at the highest mountain peak, getting his bearings. “I know where we
are. I’m not sure where Winhaven is.”

“Maybe we should head for civilization.”

“We’re in the Jalpani Mountains.” He pointed toward the setting sun. “If we walk that way, we’ll enter the capital city of
Chivalri.”

“How far would that be?”

“Twenty miles. Maybe twenty-five.”

She bit back a groan. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. But she’d been sleeping all afternoon while Rion, who’d expended large
amounts of energy carrying her, had been walking for hours.

He pointed to a distant outcropping of trees. “I think that bluff might be the western edge of Winhaven.”

She looked in the direction he’d pointed, hoping it wasn’t far. Her gaze picked up a familiar silhouette against the sky.
The owl had survived the crash, but like Rion could have been flung far away. Or like Marisa, could have been injured. Yet
Merlin looked fine, and she was happy to see him again. “Hey, there’s Merlin.”

The owl swooped toward them, circled over their heads, and then flew off about twenty degrees to the right of Rion’s familiar
bluff. When they continued to stand and watch him fly, he returned and circled them again before repeating his flight path.

“He wants us to follow him,” Marisa said.

“Let’s go.” Rion handed her a walking stick. “After he gave us the key to that spaceship, then steered it, I’m thinking there’s
more to Merlin than we know.”

Marisa followed Merlin’s flight. “I wish I’d asked Cael or Lucan more about him, but I thought he was just a pet.” Watching
Merlin fly and cover so much ground with so little effort, she longed to do the same. “If we dragonshaped, we’d be at Winhaven
in minutes.”

“No. Don’t even think about dragonshaping.” Rion’s voice turned harsh.

Surprised, she looked at him, but kept walking, following Merlin. “Why not?”

“If the Unari are around, we’d be too easy to spot as dragons. And”—he hesitated, as if there were something he didn’t want
to say, then continued—“after the crash, my webbing tangled in a tree. I had to dragonshape to free myself. I got a taste
of the Tyrannizer’s pain.”

His face turned hard, and his eyes blazed with anger.

“I’m sorry.” What in God’s name had the Tyrannizer done to him? She couldn’t bring herself to ask about the pain.

“It’s not something I want to ever experience again. No one should have to bear that agony. It’s savage.”

She placed her hand in his and squeezed. “We’ll stop them. You, Merlin, and I will find a way to stop the Unari.”

“Goddess help us if we don’t.”

Marisa’s stomach knotted. She could do this. Stay strong. “To use my group telepathy to communicate with the dragons, I’ll
have to link minds with them. I won’t just feel my own pain, I’ll feel theirs, too.”

Rion stopped walking and looked at her. “Back on Earth, you remained in human form when you communicated with the dragons.”

“And my efforts failed.” If not for Rion’s dragonshaping and placing himself between her and the angry dragons, she wouldn’t
have survived. “I can get through to small, receptive groups of dragons in human form. But to send a message worldwide or
to deal with fighting dragons or ones in terrible pain, I need my full telepathic powers. I have to dragonshape to communicate
effectively.”

“You’ll feel all their pain?” he asked.

“Yes.” She hoped she had the courage to do what was needed. Because if she didn’t, not only his people but all of Earth might
be doomed, as well. “The link—and the pain—won’t be as intense if I remain in human form, but I can communicate with larger
groups and with more authority if I dragonshape.”