Blood of the Guardian Read online

  “Are you okay?” Emery asked.

  “Just thinking about that poor girl. Her father is dead and … isn’t she the ruler now?”

  “I believe so. So young, angry, and confused. I can feel so much from her. Hopefully, by the time her people return, she’ll be well enough to stop a war.”

  Megan rolled her neck, releasing a long sigh.

  “You should rest,” Emery suggested. “Take a bath. You did a lot with Alec.”

  She waved her hand dismissively, but it was hard to forget the infection she’d absorbed. “It’s what I do.”

  “You are the king’s wife. What you’ll do now is rest. I’ll have the staff prepare a warm bath and lay out clean clothes.”

  A bath did sound good. She eyed Emery, remembering her conversation with Kat. She dropped her gaze to her shoes. “You could … join me?”

  “Megan—”

  Before he could spew his logic, Megan slammed her lips against his. He tried to pull away, but she kept him locked in place by dragging her hands through his soft hair. For a moment he responded, then he stiffened.

  She broke away invigorated, until she noticed the scowl on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. He pushed her by her shoulders, turned, and walked away.

  She blinked, stunned. She touched her mouth, the taste of him still on her lips. Rejection hammered her into the ground. What have I done?

  ***

  The warm water caressed her tired muscles. Healing could take care of aches and pains, but it did little for fatigue. She ran a hand across her abdomen and caressed the bump, the beginning of her secret revealing itself. It wouldn’t be much longer until everyone knew.

  Rubbing the sweet, floral soap over her arms, her neck, her hair, she wondered if Emery’s rejection had to do with the baby. Did her body look swollen? Malformed? Ugly? She sank further into the water to rinse off the soap. Her hair splayed around her, floating in the disappearing bubbles—the red tints turned nearly black as they saturated with water. She wiped her eyes, though the tears had long fallen. She was the wife of the king. Why did she feel so alone?

  The door creaked opened, and she turned, expecting one of the lady servants to come refresh the water. She’d soaked so long they’d done it three times already. Kat entered, dressed in the male uniform of the Speed Rol’dan, as she always did. She pulled a chair from the side of the room and sat next to the tub, leaning her elbows on her knees.

  “My guess is,” Kat said after a prolonged silence, “something happened between you and the king?”

  Megan cocked her head toward her friend.

  “He’s a foul beast in the throne room. Did you have a fight?”

  Megan smiled, the first she’d done since her confrontation with Emery. “Not a fight, really. I just tried to … up my game.”

  Kat sat up, smirking. “And?”

  “He rejected me.”

  “Well, you nudged a sore spot, for certain. The staff is walking on eggshells. He’s telling them to clean things they already cleaned yesterday, and half the Rol’dan are now training in the cold rain.”

  A pattering of raindrops on the window emphasized Kat’s comment. At least the weather had held until they had returned home. She set the bar of soap on the side table.

  Kat skimmed her fingertips across Megan’s bathwater. “I suspected it might have something to do with you.”

  “I only kissed him.”

  “Must’ve been quite a kiss.”

  She shrugged, her shoulder raising from the water and going back in. “Little good it did. He pushed me away.”

  “You got his attention. It’s eating him up enough that he’s taking it out on everyone else.”

  Megan flung water at her. Kat laughed and blocked the spray.

  “How does that help?” Megan asked. “Besides making the kingdom miserable.”

  Kat wiped a sleeve across her face, grinning. “It’s for a good cause.”

  “Why am I taking advice from you, anyway? It’s not like you’ve had much luck either.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Kat’s smiled faded into a scowl.

  Kat leaned back onto her chair, stretching her feet in front of her and crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s your husband. I have a crush on a god.”

  “Nolan is not a god.”

  “Really?”

  Megan searched her mind for an argument but came up blank. He was almost like a god now. But the core of him held the same quiet boy she’d met when he’d been a scribe. He couldn’t help being all-powerful and built like no other living man.

  “I think he likes you,” Megan said quickly. “Remember that night in my room? His hands were all over you.”

  An uncharacteristic blush rose to Kat’s cheeks. “It was a good night.”

  They met each other’s eyes and laughed. Then Kat’s smile faded. “If he was so interested in me, why did he leave?”

  “Don’t know. We’ll ask him when he gets back.” Megan shivered; her water was getting cold. “Give him some time. Or, you could always ‘up your game.’”

  “Crows, Meg. Not sure what else I could do. He can read my thoughts, and they aren’t very proper.”

  Megan giggled. “Maybe with Nolan, you need to step back. You might be frightening him.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Kat stood and opened it a crack. “Yes?”

  The voice of a servant sounded from the other side. “King Emery has requested Queen Megan’s presence. He’s received word on The Emissary”

  As soon as the door closed, Megan jumped from the tub and threw on clothes. Kat, using her Speed, fetched items she needed, and within a few minutes, they were running down the hall. They entered the throne room, breathless and getting several odd looks from other soldiers and serving staff because of Megan’s soggy hair. A young, female Rol’dan stood before Emery near the throne.

  Megan had seen her from time to time but had never spoken to her. When Emery saw Megan, he averted his gaze.

  Megan grunted. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he? She’d only kissed him.

  “So where is he?” Megan asked, addressing the soldier.

  The girl bowed before speaking. “I scouted near Grell and heard of some strange events in connection with a gypsy circus.”

  “What does this have to do with the Emissary?” Megan asked.

  “Continue, Lieutenant,” Emery said.

  The girl nodded. “Rumors said a band of gypsies was able to wield the Shay powers. So, wanting to find out all I could, I dressed in common clothes and went to their circus of oddities.” She swallowed, glancing from one of them to another. “The Emissary was one of their caged beasts.”

  Megan started. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye. He is hard to forget. And he didn’t look so well. They kept stabbing him and making him heal. By the time I left that night, he looked near death.

  “I would’ve done something, Your Majesty,” the girl continued, looking at Emery’s stony expression, “but there were so many of them, and the rumors of their Shay powers are true!”

  “I don’t blame you, Lieutenant. You were right to come here instead.”

  “When was this?” Megan asked.

  “Last night. I came back first thing this morning.”

  Emery motioned to a servant. “Fetch me General Trividar.”

  The manservant bowed and scurried away.

  He was … caged? How is that possible? He can break out of anything. Megan’s mind swam. Unless he pretended to be caged. But why would he take up with a band of gypsies?

  Emery paced, his hands clasped behind his back. “What town did you say?”

  “Grell, Your Grace. They are supposed to perform tonight as well.”

  In a blur of golden colors, Kael appeared, his cape fluttering into position once he stopped. He gave a curt bow. “Your Majesty?”

  The soldier repeated her story, and as she did, Kael’s fist gripped tighter on the hilt of his blade. Th
e lines around Kael’s mouth flattened, and his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “General,” Emery said. “You will not go alone.”

  Kael’s head jerked in Emery’s direction. “I can move quickly—”

  “We aren’t dealing with normal people; they are Shay users. And the gypsies aren’t known for their kindness and goodwill.”

  Kael opened his mouth to object, but Emery’s expression sealed his mouth closed.

  Emery’s scowl softened. “General, he’s my friend too.”

  Kael nodded, his hand still gripping his blade.

  “Get a team of Speed Rol’dan, a dozen at least,” Emery said.

  Kat stepped forward. “I would like to volunteer, General.”

  “Accepted,” Kael said.

  “And bring Greer with you,” Emery added. “If Nolan is in need of Healing … ”

  “Greer returned?” Megan asked.

  “Just this morning,” Emery said. “Our friends from the village are well.”

  Megan exhaled. Her brother was doing okay. “Did they … give Flann the letter?”

  Emery’s mouth quirked. “Yes. He knows.”

  Crows. She wondered how that went. But she’d have plenty of time to worry about her brother. For now, they needed to help Nolan.

  Kael bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Permission to leave immediately?”

  “Permission granted. Go to the Guardians’ quarters before you leave; inform them of our plans.”

  Kael disappeared.

  Kat turned to Megan, her brows furrowed over her glowing eyes. “We’ll find him. We’ll bring him home.”

  Megan could only nod as her voice choked in worry. This last week, she’d been mad at Nolan for running away. How long had he been held captive and tortured by a power-hungry group of gypsies? Had he run away at all? Or had they taken him somehow? Her stomach churned.

  She stared at the door where Kat and the general had disappeared. It was times like these when she wished she could do more than simply heal.

  A hand touched her arm. She turned, and Emery’s worry-filled face mirrored her own. “They’ll find him.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of her.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her, comforting her. As long as he played the role of the father, the brother, the friend, he could touch her. She pressed into him, taking what contact he gave, feeling his thrumming heart against her cheek.

  He gently pulled her from him, his eyes glinting with violet light. He inhaled and released it slowly, the moment between them gone.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.” He gave her a reassuring smile and strode toward the meeting room. A trio of Empathy Rol’dan joined him inside.

  There was always business. Always something needing to be done. Emery worried over every detail, as long as it didn’t focus on them.

  She turned, burying her frustration and anger. He’s king, you idiot. Of course he has business. He told you he’d talk to you later. By Brim, he better once Nolan is home and well. Inhaling a slow breath, she strengthened her resolve to be useful. If Nolan was hurt, missing, or in trouble, Alec would want to know.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  RIKAR HADN’T COME.

  The night had passed slowly, ever so slowly. The spears had jabbed sharper and deeper since the gypsies had come into their powers. They were crueler with their torment now, using their Shays behind their blows. Nolan fought consciousness, forcing his body to heal as the wounds bled his life onto the floor of his prison cell.

  Rikar had kept Nolan alive this last week, but tonight he had never appeared. Darkness became Nolan’s company as he shivered with cold and exhaustion. Moment by moment, the night crawled on.

  The previous night, Rikar had nearly depleted his light. He’d crawled back to his cage and lay motionless the entire day. Nolan had watched, trying to speak to him, but the Guardian remained limp and still. When evening came, he only shifted slightly, and then another performance began.

  When the sun finally broke through the trees, Nolan lifted his head, feeling as weak as when the performance had ended. He held his breath. Rikar would’ve come if he could; he always did. Guilt and dread crept over his heart. Brim, don’t let him be dead.

  A slight movement came from Rikar, a stirring of his leg. Relief sunk into Nolan’s bones. He shifted on the drying blood coating the floor and stared out the bars, first at Rikar, then the gypsies as they started their day.

  A group with the power of Strength tossed a large stone in a game of catch. Another group—with orange light blazing from their eyes—started a scavenger hunt. Still another with Accuracy threw spears. A tree resembled a porcupine it was so littered with wooden stakes. Even without the Rol’dan colors, they segregated. Those who were friends previously gravitated toward those who shared their powers.

  Nolan’s head throbbed. He held a hand over his eyes, blocking the morning rays. He’d never felt so weak, never so completely drained.

  What would Brim say to him when he entered the hereafter? How would he react after Nolan had failed so miserably in his task? He had spread the light, he supposed, but not in the way he had meant. The gypsies had gained the powers instead of the normal citizens of Adamah.

  The jarring of metal drew him from his exhaustion. A pair of gypsies stood next to Rikar’s cage, poking the Guardian with a branch.

  “Look. It moved.”

  “It gets sick too often. We should get rid of it.”

  The gypsies glanced around, making sure nobody was listening—except for Nolan; he wasn’t a real person to them.

  “Jezebelle wouldn’t take too kindly to that sort of talk. Lately, she’s found him interesting.”

  The other nodded.

  When Nolan had first gained his powers, many things had become glaringly clear. The Guardians, who’d hidden behind disguises, could no longer do so to Nolan. He always saw their true forms, just like when he’d arrived in this camp; Rikar couldn’t hide from him, until now.

  Nolan stared at the cage and the lizard man who slept, slumped on the ground of his cell. Fatigue and weakness had taken such a hold of Nolan, he could no longer break through Rikar’s disguise. He was hideous, as they had said, with green, scaly skin. The only resemblance to a man was his two arms and legs. Slits took the place of his nose, and a slimy tail stretched out next to him. Nolan focused, trying to see the Guardian’s natural form, but all he could see was the lizard.

  Jezebelle, however, could now see the Guardian’s true form.

  After she received the power of Strength—and took several days to recover—she hungered to try more. Day after day, she continued with the onslaught of Shay powers. Nolan gawked, wondering how she could take so much on at one time. But, of course, she wasn’t hiding her new powers; Nolan had gained his strategically. Jezebelle attacked them with as much stubborn determination as she did with all things; she continued until she’d captured them all.

  But how could she? No one else could gain all the Shays—that is, no one except himself.

  The other gypsies tried, each taking a turn in every light. But no matter how many times they stood there, or how many headaches they received from the extra lights, they failed. Only Jezebelle had gained additional powers.

  Since then, she’d gawked at Rikar, yelling at the silent Guardian through his bars, demanding he speak. Unfortunately for her, Rikar wouldn’t cooperate.

  Nolan raised his head, finding Jezebelle striding around his cage as she dragged a stick across the metal beams. Since she’d changed, she’d taunted him daily. Physically, she looked the same—if you didn’t count the prism of colored eyes. Still normal. Still beautiful. But now, she was deadly.

  She stopped near his face, staring with violet, glowing eyes. Her Empathy prodded, analyzing him. “I thought you’d been pretending. But you’re not pretending, are you? You’ve lost your powers.”

  He didn’t have enough strength to even argue.

  “W
hat is he?” she asked, motioning toward Rikar.

  Nolan glanced at the Guardian and snorted. “Looks like a lizard man.”

  Her hand darted inside, grabbing Nolan’s arm. She squeezed, flaring Strength.

  Nolan cried out, laughing through the pain. It wouldn’t make him talk.

  She hissed and let go, gripping his cage bars instead. “You will answer me.”

  “What will you do? Kill me?”

  “I can kill you.”

  Nolan forced a weak smile. “You’re doing that already.”

  She squeezed the metal of his cage, and it moaned but didn’t glow. Why didn’t it glow?

  “I want answers,” she said. “I need answers.”

  His hatred for her paused, seeing the vulnerability in her intense stare. She was always so cocky, so confident. And now, she was confused and unsure. Those in the camp sidestepped her, fear pulsing through them as thick as a foggy morning. They treated her like one of the freaks in their cages.

  Her face pressed close to the bars, her eyes pleading. “What happened to me?”

  A soothing balm of pity covered his hate. “I only wish I knew.”

  Whatever vulnerability she held snapped closed. With a final glare, she pushed off, flinging her braids over one shoulder and stomping away.

  Nolan released a prolonged breath. He couldn’t answer her questions if he wanted to. He’d struggled with the same ones since the moment he’d changed. At least she had the opportunity to blend in—as much as a gypsy could. Nolan didn’t fit in anywhere, except his cage.

  Afternoon dragged on, and Nolan’s weakness remained. To his relief, Rikar steadily improved. By mid-morning, he could sit. After the sun reached its peak, someone slid a plate under Nolan’s bars. He ignored the food.

  “Master Nolan,” Rikar’s voice said in his mind. “Please forgive me. I was unable to tend to you last night. I believe I will be able to tonight, at least a little.”

  Nolan didn’t answer. Tonight might be too late. He closed his eyes, sleep finally claiming him. Rikar’s worried voice droned in his head.

  ***

  Nolan awoke as a chorus of laughter erupted from the center of camp. The musicians played; the man sang; another tossed twenty balls into the air.