Shattering the Ley (32 page)

When she turned her back to get change, he slipped down the street, trying to move slowly, as if still browsing the shops. He dodged pedestrians and surreptitiously scanned for whatever held the Dogs’ attention.

It took him a moment, but then he caught motion out of the corner of his eye and his gaze focused on not something, but someone. A lean figure with straggly brown hair and a narrow face, a sharp nose, freckles. Slightly taller than himself, the man moved through the crowd without effort, the patrons in the streets stepping out of his way unconsciously. No one appeared to notice him at all, except the Dogs, who kept him in sight at all times.

Dalton slid into an alley—nothing more than a shoulder-width narrow between two stone buildings—and watched.

The Hound—it had to be a Hound—moved fluidly through the crowds, eyes darting back and forth, searching faces, acutely aware of every move made by those around him. The intensity of his features sent a shudder through Dalton’s shoulders and down his back. His focus was inhuman, and there was something odd about his breathing. Every so often, his head would tilt and his nostrils would flare—

Dalton sucked in a harsh breath, held it. Scent. That’s why they were called Hounds. They hunted by scent.

At the same moment, the Hound spun and lashed out with one hand, seizing the baker’s arm as she turned from arguing with another woman. Dalton heard her gasp in pain from his position across the street. Her perpetual disgruntled expression fled, replaced with pure panic as she caught sight of who held her and the Dogs now rushing toward her position.

“Where is he?” the Hound demanded.

“Who?” she asked, then tried to jerk free. The muscles in the Hound’s forearm flexed and she bit back another gasp, her arm now canted awkwardly to one side.

“The man who was just here,” the Hound said, and Dalton shrank back deeper into the narrow. Icy tendrils cascaded down his legs and into his feet, his toes tingling, as the Hound continued. “Where did he go?”

The woman’s jaw set, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t know.”

The Dogs had arrived, everyone on the street giving the baker’s stall a wide berth. But even though the other pedestrians kept their distance, Dalton sensed a dark undercurrent welling up, heightened when the Hound twisted the woman’s arm further and she cried out through clenched teeth.

The Dogs’ alpha must have sensed it as well. He motioned with one hand, the rest of the Dogs fanning out. Some of those on the street had stopped, were glaring at the altercation. “Was he here?” the alpha growled.

The Hound’s lip curled. “He was here. Within the last ten minutes.” He drew in a deep breath, turned in Dalton’s direction, searched with those odd, animalistic eyes—

And caught Dalton’s gaze.

Shock bolted from Dalton’s brain to his feet at the ferocity he saw there and he lurched back.

At the same time, the Hound said, “We don’t need her,” and wrenched the woman’s hand, the motion casual. Dalton heard the snap of bone as the baker screamed.

Then he spun in the narrow and dashed between the buildings, shoulders scraping on either side. A pounding filled his ears, muting the baker’s shrieks from behind and the sudden uproar from those who had watched. He heard the alpha bellow a warning, heard outraged growls from the few who’d gathered around to watch, heard a fight break out. But the bloodrush in his ears dampened everything except the harshness of his own breathing.

He cried out as he burst from the narrow’s other side into another street, nearly stumbling. Someone helped him steady himself, but he jerked away and staggered to the right, heading toward the market, toward the thicker crowds. He’d eluded the Dogs and the Hounds for more than three weeks. He’d thought he’d escaped their notice. How had they found him? How had they—

He jolted to a halt in the middle of an intersection as it hit him. His scent. It had taken them a while to follow his tracks through Eld, especially since he’d traversed nearly all of these streets for years, but they’d found him.

And they’d find him again. Unless he could figure out a way to hide his scent. To destroy his tracks.

A roar of outrage from the street he’d just left drew his attention. The Dogs were piling out of the narrow, spreading out. The Hound was already honing in on Dalton’s direction.

Their gazes met again and the Hound smiled and began trotting toward Dalton.

Dalton shot away to the left, running flat out for the market. He needed the crowds there to slow the Hound down, needed to give himself a lead.

He needed time to think.

“Where have you been?” Kara demanded as she caught sight of Marcus through the crowded market. He wove through a gaggle of Gorrani children being herded by a matron, only her kohl-darkened eyes visible above the silk wrap that wound beneath her shawl and covered her mouth. “We were supposed to meet half an hour ago!”

Marcus ignored her bridled tone, inexplicably smiling. “I was getting this.”

He pulled the arm tucked behind his back into sight to reveal a blue-ribboned box that she recognized instantly with a gasp.

“You didn’t.”

He chuckled. “I did. Take it. Open it.”

Kara took the box—larger than any they’d ever purchased at the shop—and held it with trembling hands. The scent of the chocolate was strong enough she thought she could taste its silky texture in her mouth already. She licked her lips tentatively, her chest tight and her gut tingling, then reached for the ribbon, but hesitated, her brow furrowing.

This wasn’t a gift Wielder partners gave to one another. This was too extravagant.

She looked up into Marcus’ eyes. They were smiling with encouragement. But there was a tightness about the corners, as if he were nervous or uncertain.

“Go on,” he said, raising his chin and looking toward the box. His voice thickened, shook slightly. “Open it.”

She dropped her gaze, quelled the sudden nervousness that twisted her stomach. With a tug, she loosened the silk ribbon and opened the box.

It contained exactly what she expected: six of the chocolatier’s most expensive chocolates.

“I can’t accept this,” she heard herself say. “It’s not . . . it’s too . . .”

Marcus took her wrists in his hands, pulled her closer to him. Her skin burned where he touched her, a pleasant prickling racing up her arms to her shoulders, settling in her chest. Her breath shortened, then caught as he said, “Kara. We’re more than partners. You know it. I know it. Everyone at the node knows it as well. That’s why they’re always snickering behind their hands and whispering behind our backs. I just . . .”

He ran out of words, his mouth open as he searched for what he wanted to say. He still had her wrists in his hands. Kara still couldn’t breathe. Her heart thudded in her ears, fast and quick. The bustling market swirled around them both as if they weren’t there, hawkers peddling their wares, patrons haggling with the cartmen or the farmers with blankets thrown down on the cobbles. Mixed in were the Gorrani with their rounded tents and the more exotic stalls from the Archipelago. Scents assaulted her as time stretched—pungent spices, tantalizing smoked meats, the thickness of ale. She found herself yearning upward, lifting onto the balls of her feet.

Marcus gave up his search and simply pulled her tight to him, her arms—still holding the box of chocolates—crushed between them. He kissed her. Not the protective kiss he’d given after she’d been interrogated by the Primes after the appearance of the distortion at the ley station, and not the tentative, exploratory, and sometimes fumbling kisses they’d shared in the time since. This kiss reached deep, pulling something up from within her, from a reserve she didn’t know she had, a reserve she hadn’t realized she kept hidden and protected. She fought the exposure at first, afraid of what had been awakened, but then she released her hold, sank herself into the kiss, and found that she was pulling something from deep inside Marcus as well, drawing it up from his center. He’d opened himself to her completely, hid nothing from her. It was like the power of the ley flowing from her into the ground, into the folds of the Tapestry around them all. Except this energy passed only between her and Marcus, sizzling through her skin, warm and fluid and exhilarating. It woke every part of her, and through it she could sense Marcus as well, his entire being.

Then the kiss ended, both of them pulling back with a gasp—of needed air, of shock, of shared experience. Kara trembled, the market still whirling around them, but somehow withdrawn. Marcus sucked in steadying breaths, then released her wrists, touched her face, her hair, cupped the back of her head on both sides with his hands. “Kara, I love you.”

“I—” Her throat closed and she swallowed, then finished hoarsely, “I love you, too.”

They stood silently, neither one daring to move, neither one certain how the moment should end.

Then Kara looked down and, in a dazed voice, said, “The chocolate’s melting.”

Marcus snorted, then broke into deep-throated laughter. He pulled back from her, took the top of the wooden box and closed it before taking her hand and leading her in a meandering path through the scattered vendors. Neither of them spoke, Kara still reeling from the intensity of the kiss and caught up in the sudden ramifications of what had just happened. Everything was shifting, like the lines of power had shifted in Halliel’s Park when she’d rearranged the patterns of the stones. Her view of her place in the node, of the other Wielders, of her path forward—all of it was changing.

“Timmons,” she said abruptly.

“What about him?” Marcus asked.

“He’s the head Wielder at the node. What will he think of this?”

Marcus smiled. “He saw it coming. In fact, he’s already spoken to me about it. Or rather, warned me of the consequences.”

“Like what?”

They paused before a jewelry maker whose pendants and other objects glinted in the sunlight. But when Kara looked closer, she realized it wasn’t the reflection of the sun she saw, but ley light. The jewelry maker had somehow captured a sliver of ley inside each of the glass designs, so that they glowed with an inner light. When she picked one up—the glass crafted into the shape of a tiny bird—she felt the threads of power wrapped into the structure. Yet she sensed no power from the woman keeping a careful eye on her. Someone else must be creating them.

“Like the fact that you won’t be staying at Eld for much longer.”

Kara nearly dropped the pendant. She spun toward Marcus, asked sharply, “What do you mean?”

Marcus shrugged, fidgeting where he stood, but not looking directly at her. “He said the Primes have taken notice of you. They were probably already watching, after what happened with your parents and your early acceptance into training. But after you attempted to seal the distortion at the Eld station. . . .” He sighed, his shifting gaze finally falling on her. “They’re going to move you to another node within the year. Timmons thinks they’re going to accelerate your teaching and make you a Master early, and a Prime shortly after that.”

Kara swallowed. “I thought I’d have four years here at Eld.”

Marcus’ smile twisted. “Apparently not.”

Kara didn’t know what to say. The prospect of learning what the Masters and Primes knew was exciting, but she had barely settled into Eld. It was practically all she knew, having grown up here. The only other district she’d lived in had been Grass, while studying with the Wielders, and even there she had remained within the confines of the college and the nearest streets most of the time. She had little experience with any of the other districts.

Apprehension tightened her fingers on the box she still held and she blurted, “What about us? I’ll have to stay at whatever node they send me to.”

Marcus’ grin faltered. “Not all Wielders stay at the node. You wouldn’t have to stay in the barracks.” He hesitated. “In fact, I was thinking. . . .” He took the pendant she still clutched and set it back down among the others, the jewelry seller frowning in disappointment. “Timmons will never let us room together at the node. There’s a strict division in the barracks—women on the right, men on the left. So I thought maybe we could . . . find a place of our own, somewhere in Eld.” Before she could protest, although she wasn’t certain she would, he rushed on. “You can commute to whatever node they place you in. The ley barges can take you anywhere in Erenthrall, and they’ve gotten cheaper since the Flyers’ Tower became active. With both of our pay going into one pot, we can afford a small place. Nothing much, but something.” He took a deep breath, expelled it with a hopeful, “What do you think?”

Kara opened her mouth, but her throat closed and nothing came out. She felt light-headed and dizzy, overwhelmed and reeling with all of the sudden changes. The rocks and patterns were shifting too fast. The kiss, the news she wouldn’t be staying at Eld long, the thought of finding a place with Marcus—it exhilarated her and terrified her with the unknown and the uncertainties.

“I—” She halted, tried again. “I don’t know, Marcus.” His shoulders slumped, so she reached up to grip his arm. “I want to, but I need to adjust to . . . to everything. Especially the idea that I won’t be staying in Eld.”