The Ophelia Prophecy (27 page)

“I’m ready.”

As hard as he was to read right now, it was clear enough he didn’t believe her. But he nodded, and they started across the valley.

*   *   *

For the rest of this last, long trek, Asha’s mental resources were monopolized by pain and exhaustion. She’d hoped eventually the sensations would dull to a manageable level. But the ground was uneven, and they spent too much time crouching. The trip back through the tunnel, with its rocky traverse, was the worst. Her muscles stretched her open wounds, and blood dripped down her back.

As she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, Pax and Micah discussed the problem of ensuring their safety in the temple. Pax didn’t trust Cleo to stick to their truce, and Micah agreed that they’d need to somehow secure one floor of the temple. But it wasn’t something that could be accomplished tonight, and Asha found herself doubting her decision to return with the others. The idea of sitting up for what was left of the night, or sleeping lightly enough to watch for danger, was laughable.

They made quicker progress through the underground, where at least the passages were lit and the ground was level. But by the time they reached the stairs that led to the temple, her cuts were so raw and inflamed she had to grit her teeth to keep from groaning.

“Almost there,” said Pax softly, following on the stairs behind her.

When they emerged in the priestess’s chamber, Pax hung back with Asha as Micah and Cleo consulted in low voices. The priestess had regained her composure, but Asha was more afraid of this controlled Cleo than of the Cleo in Al Campo.

Pax stepped close to her, murmuring, “I don’t trust her.” The shiver that ran through her at the sound of his voice in her ear had nothing to do with fear or cold.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t think we can afford to. But I do think she needs Micah.”

Pax nodded. “And can’t risk him turning on her. He’s taken an interest in your welfare as well, it seems. That’s fortunate for both of us.”

She met his gaze, and her face grew warm under his scrutiny. But his expression remained as neutral as it had been since leaving Al Campo. She could imagine what he was thinking: neither of them would be in this mess if she hadn’t run from him.

“He also sees the benefit of the deal you offered them,” she said. “It will make it difficult for her to justify betraying us.”

“Agreed. But I think she’ll use every spare cycle to figure out a way to get back at me—at
us
—without losing Micah’s support.”

Her stomach fluttered at his use of the simple two-letter pronoun. “Yes,” she breathed. “We’ll still have to watch her. What do you propose?”

“Until Micah can secure a section of the temple for us, we need to stay close to each other. I know you’re used to thinking of me as your jailer. But that stops now. I’ll watch out for you, but it’s your decision whether to remain here or return to your father.”

Asha swallowed. “Okay.”

“I also want you to understand that I’m not a threat to you. You don’t need to worry about—”

“I know,” she interrupted, hoping to relieve him from an explanation she could see was paining him. “I trust you.”

At last the shield slipped, revealing a combination of surprise and gratitude. His expression caused the worm of guilt in her stomach to turn.

“I’m not a threat to you either,” she continued, breaking from his gaze. “I don’t know if you can believe that.”

Her whole body strained, waiting for his answer, but before he could reply Micah returned.

“The priestess insisted you be given rooms high in the tower,” he said. “She believes you’ll run otherwise.”

“That ensures there’s no escape for us if she goes back on our agreement,” Pax pointed out.

“There’s one more group returning from Al Campo tonight,” said Micah. “They’re all people I trust—I made sure of it. I’ll ask them to keep an eye on the others. It’s the best I can do for now. She’s given me her word she’ll stick to our agreement.”

“So she doesn’t trust us,” grumbled Pax, “but we’re to trust her.”

Asha laid a hand on Pax’s arm. “We’ll be all right,” she said. Regardless, she knew she’d reached her limit. She was sleeping in the temple tonight, whatever the risks.

He eyed her a moment, features softening. He nodded at Micah. “Let’s go.”

They rode the lift to the eighteenth floor.

“The disciples take their meals together in the hall on the second floor,” said Micah as they exited the lift, “but I can see that yours are brought up to you. Will you want anything before morning?”

“Yes, if possible,” replied Asha. The broth she’d drunk before leaving Al Campo had been burned away by the long walk. “Anything is fine.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “I’ll take care of it myself. As for the rooms—”

“Just one room,” Pax said firmly.

Micah shot her a questioning look that raised heat from her chin to her hairline.

“I think we’ll both feel safer,” she said. “We can make a change later.”

He gave a neutral nod. “As you like.”

They followed him around the elevator shaft and stopped in front of a doorway veiled by a lightweight, opaque curtain.

“This is a guest floor, divided into two chambers,” he explained. “The rooms are larger and more comfortable than those on the lower floors.” He glanced at Paxton. “I can easily reconfigure the lift to prevent access by anyone but you, myself, and an attendant. The stairs can’t be sealed off. But this high up in the tower it will be difficult for anyone to creep up on you.”

“But not impossible,” replied Pax. “I’d feel better with a gun. And I’d prefer to dispense with the attendant. I’ll go down for our meals myself.”

Micah studied Pax, weighing the demands. “I think arming you is asking for trouble. But we can work around the need for an attendant by setting you up to be self-sufficient for meals for a few days.”

Pax sighed and turned to survey the chamber, clearly dissatisfied with the refusal of the weapon but seeming to accept there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The room was roughly crescent-shaped, with six windows looking out over the fairy lights of the sleeping city. The large bed, piled with pillows and draped with richly colored fabric, was stationed near the windows on one end of the room. At the other end was a sitting area with plush chairs surrounding a low table, and beyond that a curtained-off area, maybe a bathroom.

Pots of flowering plants ranged along the curved wall, perfuming the air. Beneath the center window was what looked like a shrine, with a smaller version of the statue from the roof and a gurgling fountain.

Neither of the men appeared fazed by any of it, but Asha couldn’t get used to the opulence of the place.

“I’ll need to contact my father in the morning,” said Pax. “My sister knew I was coming here. If they don’t hear from me soon, you can be sure they’ll come calling.”

“Agreed,” replied Micah. “I’ll see to it first thing. Before I go tonight I’ll bring up food and fresh clothes. Anything else you need?”

“Medical supplies,” said Pax.

“Of course. I’ll be back soon.”

*   *   *

He left them, and the moment she’d both hoped for and dreaded dropped like a heavy snow, blanketing them with silence.

She took a deep breath, letting it out with more volume than she intended, and she teetered on worn-out limbs.

“Come,” said Pax, taking her arm.

She let him guide her to the bed, watching as he cleared off the excess pillows to make room for her. She crawled onto the soft, inviting mountain and sank down on her stomach with another sigh.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

Arms folded under her head, she closed her eyes, and she slipped into a doze before her mind could even touch on the many things that were troubling her.

She woke with a start when she felt a hand at her back.

“Easy,” murmured Pax, his fingers lightly pressing her hip. “I need to raise your top to treat your cuts.”

She lowered her head again, relaxing her taut muscles. “Okay.”

The fabric had stuck in places, and as Pax gently pulled at it, her scabs broke open and she gave a muffled cry against the bedding.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and there was an edge of anger to his voice.

Once the tunic was free, he began pressing a warm, wet cloth against her wound. She could feel the shape of the mark as he dabbed the blood away—the spiral Beck had carved both to punish and brand her a traitor.

This kindness from Pax—the solicitous, almost
tender
treatment—was more than she could take.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her words coming out harsher than she intended.

He continued in silence, working loose the caked blood. When he finished, he pressed a dry cloth against her, stanching the fresh blood caused by the cleaning.

“Why am I doing what?” he finally asked.

“Helping me. Being so kind to me.”

When again he didn’t answer, she continued, “It’s not your concern, is it?”

She heard a scraping noise as he removed the lid from a jar. “You ought to know me better than that by now.” The softness of his rebuke only reinforced her petulance.

“I don’t understand you at
all
. I’m nothing to you but a problem. A mystery, and an enemy. I’m not even your prisoner anymore. You don’t owe me anything.” She cursed the lump that gained mass in her throat, choking her. “Why are you helping me?”

*   *   *

Pax scooped healing salve from the jar with two fingers, spreading it gently and thickly over her wound while he thought about what she’d said.

“The microorganisms will clean and seal the wound and help you to heal quickly. It’s deep enough there may be a slight scar.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her tone was bitter, and resigned. He screwed the lid back onto the jar and wiped the residue from his fingers. He sank down on the bed and stared at the mark, replacing the lid on his anger as well. The anger was pointless. Its object was dead.

He understood where Asha’s head was. Or at least he thought he did. “You feel that you betrayed Beck,” he said. “That you betrayed your own kind. You feel that you deserved to be punished.”

Her face had been resting on her arms, but now she turned it toward him. The color had drained from her cheeks.

A tear slipped down across one cheek and over the bridge of her nose. His breath stopped.

“I betrayed
you
.”

Pax swallowed. “Did you?”

She nodded. A lock of hair fell over her eye, and he stopped himself from reaching to push it back.

“How so?”

“When I saw your city from Banshee, I remembered why I was here.” She pushed herself up on her arms, settling across from him, and looked at him squarely. “I’m a sleeper. I came here to find my father in Al Campo, and to do what I could to cause trouble for you and your people. The Alhambra was the trigger—the alarm that woke me.”

He studied her, more impressed than angry. He’d had evidence enough of her bravery and determination. But for her to leave the only home she’d known—to go among her enemy to help someone she loved … No survivor had ever attempted such a thing. And while he’d learned better than to judge an enemy based on size, sex, or species, she looked like the last person to pull it off. He suppressed a smile as he remembered how she’d managed to knock him flat on his back within the first fifteen minutes of their acquaintance.

“Did you hear me?” she said. Her words had a desperate edge.

“That’s not a betrayal,” he pointed out. “You didn’t even know me.”

“I’m not finished.”

He breathed evenly, steadying the response of his heart. “What else?”

“I told Cleo if she got me into Al Campo I would give you to her.”

He knew this from the exchange during the confrontation in Al Campo, but still the confession jarred him. The fact that she’d come up with it on her own.

“How did you think you were going to fulfill your part of the bargain?”

She winced at the change in his tone. “I knew eventually you’d come for me. I wouldn’t have to do anything but wait for you to find us.”

Now came his punishment for his softness toward her. For his inability to treat her like the enemy she was. She had learned he was weak with regard to her, and she had used it.

“Smart girl,” he said dryly. “It all went just as you predicted.”

She shook her head. She started to say more, but then seemed to change her mind.

His heart had gone numb. He’d lost the desire to ease her suffering, and he had no sympathy for his own. He felt like a fool.

“I want you to understand,” she began again. “You were my enemy. But sometimes it seemed you weren’t. You were kind to me, but there was always this threat between us. What if I’d come here to harm you? It turned out I
had
come to harm you. And when I remembered my father was here—that I’d come to find him—I became desperate. I clung to the person I was before I knew you. It was something I never considered—that in the time between sleeping and waking, I might become someone different.”

“Nothing is ever as simple as it seems,” he said softly, more to himself than to her.

“No,” she agreed. Fixing her eyes on his face, she continued, “I needed you to understand why I made that deal with Cleo, but I also want you to know that I immediately regretted it. I tried to see a way out, but it was too late to go back. The trap was set the moment I ran away from you.”

The anguish in her face loosened the stone from his heart. “You did what you set out to do. I respect you for that. I knew very well that those secrets locked inside you would eventually make true enemies of us. How could it be otherwise?”

She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know what ‘enemy’ means anymore.” Her eyes ranged around the room as she worked through her thoughts. He realized she was logical like him. When logic provided answers that didn’t make sense, she was lost.

“You saved me from Beck,” she continued. “Micah saved us from Cleo. You’ve joined them both against your father, and I’ve left mine behind after coming all this way to find him.”

He bent toward her, drawing her eyes back to his face. “Why did you do that?”