Blood of the Guardian Page 8

  Why is she looking at me like that? He avoided her gaze, doing his best to rearrange the perfectly stacked papers on his desk. After shuffling his quills a second, then a third time, he raised his face. She still stared.

  “What?” he sighed.

  She didn’t speak, frustration leaching from her. “What about us?” she finally said.

  “What do you mean us?”

  “Us, Nolan. Us!” She closed the distance and grabbed his hand; it felt so small in his. “Emery thinks I need to get married, but he said it doesn’t have to be him.”

  “Megan, we’ve gone over this before … ”

  She straightened and jutted her chin. “Emery already told me the truth.”

  “Truth,” Nolan spat. “What truth?”

  “You love me. Emery told me so.”

  Nolan jerked back; his breath hitched. Emery told her … what? What in the Darkness was he thinking?

  “And don’t give me that pathetic half-human excuse you gave me last time. Or worse yet, some explanation about taking the stones out into the world.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I know about that Kat ‘thing’ in my room last night. Emery told me you were trying to make me jealous.”

  Nolan blinked, stunned. Emery even lied about Kat? How can I defend that? Not without telling her the truth. “But I am half-human,” he spat, flinging out the easiest objection to come to mind. “That’s not an excuse, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “You’re strong. A good worker. Loyal to your friends … You’re more man than every soldier in this stupid army. You’re smart too, though you can be an arrogant arse about that sometimes … ”

  Nolan opened his mouth, then closed it. Did she just call me arrogant? He inhaled, ignoring the jab. He needed to approach this from another angle. “If you married me, I couldn’t touch you like a husband.”

  She stared at him, her defiance deflating. “Why not?”

  He started to answer, to tell her of the danger, that he could also implant a child of death inside her, but he bit his lip. She didn’t know that part. And he wouldn’t be the one to break it to her.

  “I saw you,” Megan added. “You’re normal enough. The transformation didn’t affect you all that much.”

  Nolan stared at her, confused.

  She cleared her throat, dropping her head shyly. “I saw you in the infirmary after the cleansing. You know … unclothed.”

  Heat rushed to his face. Brim, he’d almost forgotten. Almost. “I don’t mean … ” His face reddened more. “Oh, Meg. I just can’t.”

  Sorrow lingered on her emotions. “Is it because I’m soiled?”

  Nolan’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, no, no. It isn’t that.”

  “I don’t understand.” She reached for his hand. “At least you’d love me.”

  He moved his hand away. “Oh, Megan. That’s the problem. I don’t love you.”

  “Yes you do,” Megan said, defiant. “Emery told me.”

  “And Emery is a nightforsaken liar!”

  She blinked. “He … he lied?”

  Nolan ran a hand over his chin. What was Emery doing? Why put him in this position? For Brim’s sake, Emery loved her. Why lie? Sure, being with a woman tempted Nolan—how could it not tempt him? But not like this.

  Megan’s emotions sank. The desperate hope she emanated before sank into despair.

  Nolan released an exaggerated sigh and took her limp hands in his. “What about Emery?”

  “Emery?” she said numbly.

  “Emery. Didn’t he propose marriage?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Emery feels responsible. There are rumors he’s been visiting me, and because of it, they’ll believe the child is his. He should’ve never crept into my room. Now, he’s stuck with these dumb rumors. Of course, he wants to do the right thing, but I won’t let him marry me for guilt and responsibility. He does that sort of thing: sacrificing himself for everyone else. Besides, I’m like a daughter—or a little sister—to him. He’ll marry me to protect me. I want to marry for love.”

  “But you love him.”

  “You read me?”

  “It’s not hard to tell.”

  Her face flushed, and tears filled her eyes. “I can’t marry Emery. I-I love him, but it’s only a crush. A foolish, girlish crush that won’t go away. I can’t marry him. He’s only trying to protect me. I have to move on. I have to let him go.”

  “Oh, Megan. He loves you too.”

  She yanked her hands from his. “He does not. My brother told me. He doesn’t love me, at least not like that.”

  “Emery’s mind is strong. He hides things. He blocked his thoughts from your brother.” Nolan tapped his temple, smiling sadly. “But my Empathy is stronger than his.”

  Her jaw opened slightly. She leaned forward, emotions hopeful. “You sensed him?”

  Nolan nodded.

  She hesitated, as if afraid of asking. “And?”

  “And Emery Cadogan is head-over-heels smitten with you.”

  She snorted, placing a hand on her hip. “He has an odd way of showing it. He knows how I’ve felt for years, so why would he hide?”

  “Because he believes he’s not good enough for you. He said he’s too old and too damaged.”

  Silence filled the room.

  “He believes … what?” Anger leaked from her in thick, rolling waves. “Not good enough? Damaged? How in Brim’s name is he not good enough and damaged? I’m the one who’s damaged, and he’s not good enough for me?”

  She paced, her emotions growing more volatile with each stomp of her bare feet. “He rejected me because he believed he wasn’t good enough? He knew I loved him. I opened myself up, but he ignored me.”

  “He did offer to marry you,” Nolan reminded her.

  “He suggested,” she said. “And then shoved me off on you.”

  Nolan flinched as though he’d been slapped. She just begged me to marry her. Now she acts like marrying me revolted her.

  She stopped pacing and pointed at him. “How long have you known?”

  “A few months. I couldn’t break through his mind until after my transformation.”

  “But he said you loved me.”

  “I care for you, Megan. You’re my friend. You always will be. But no. I don’t love you, not like that.”

  She gasped, her eyes widening. “Nolan … he lied?”

  Nolan huffed and rolled his eyes. “I already told you that, if you had bothered listening.”

  “But he didn’t just lie about you,” she continued. “He lied about how he truly felt. About everything.”

  Nolan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Sure, Nolan had revealed Emery’s little secret—his big secret, actually. It was Emery’s fault for keeping it in the first place. He’d lied to her—and manipulated Nolan—just to avoid sharing his true feelings, all because he was too much of a coward to admit to it. He had even used that awkward moment with Kat to his advantage!

  Nolan frowned. At this point, he didn’t give a rat’s backside what happened when she confronted him. Emery had dug his own grave. Megan deserved to know the truth after all these years.

  Anger left Megan in a rush. She opened her mouth, as if wanting to say something. Guilt poured from her as she fixed her eyes on him. “I’m so sorry, Nolan.”

  “It’s okay,” Nolan lied. “I’m fine.”

  She closed the distance and placed her hands on his arms. Before he could say anything, she pulled him down, and her lips met his.

  It was a gentle kiss. A goodbye kiss. Her warm breath mingled with his, her soft lips salty from her tears. She pulled away, her emotions flicking from one thing to another. She touched his cheek. “You are more than half a man, you know,” she whispered. “You’ll make someone really happy someday.”

  His throat clenched, unable to reply.

  She smiled sadly. “Thank you.”

  And with that, she turned and left, her emotions building for conflict. Nolan considered flaring Percepti
on to hear that fight. Wonder how Emery will lie his way out of it this time.

  Nolan sank into his chair, his limbs heavy, his emotions drained. Picking up his quill, he held it over his letter to Flann. He forced a bitter laugh as he thought about the confidence in Megan’s words.

  “No, Megan,” he answered to his empty room. “I won’t make anyone happy. I’ll always be alone.”

  Chapter Ten

  ALEC GRIPPED THE WOODEN RAIL on the boat as it dipped and swayed. Back and forth the boat rocked, over and over. He closed his eyes, but it only made it worse. It was as if he’d been trotting on a broken-down horse for days.

  His stomach lurched, threatening to empty over the side of the boat for the tenth time that day. Alec had fought battles, been burned by the heat of a forge, and sliced by swords. By Brim, he’d even died once, having been stabbed through the heart. But nothing had prepared him for this.

  The boat pitched, and Alec’s knuckles whitened on the rails. The slow journey was bringing him to madness, not to mention the fact he could barely keep the strange Talasian foods down. Nolan had often talked of the sea, how he loved it: the beauty of waves, the boat gliding across the water, and the smell of fish wafting up to greet him. Alec scowled. In his opinion, Nolan didn’t know what the Darkness he was talking about.

  A wave lapped up, splashing water on his feet and sending droplets to his bare chest. Alec flinched, his muscles tensing with the cold. He’d tossed his tunic over the side days ago; it had smelled so bad, with sweat and vomit, he couldn’t stand wearing it any longer. It made little difference on the boat, anyway. The Talasian soldiers were practically naked most of the time. And their emotionless stares never gave away their disgust with Alec’s scars.

  He remembered his first scar, at the age of eight. His father had shoved a sword into his hand. A few minutes later, Alec sat on the floor of the armory, crying as blood gushed from his wound. Kardos, his father, told him to stop crying, to be a man. He bound his arm and made him stand and fight again.

  Alec traced a finger across a scar above his wrist, buried under many others, nearly too many to count. Not to mention those on his chest, back, face, and even on his upper thighs and shins. They seemed countless, but Alec remembered how he had received each and every one.

  The ship rolled, and Alec’s stomach lurched. He leaned over the edge, jaws locked open, body tense, but his stomach was too empty to comply. He gripped the rails, digging his nails into the wood. He considered flinging himself into the turbulent waters and being done with it, once and for all.

  A presence joined him, and a white cloth appeared next to his face. Alec’s body relaxed as the moment passed. He took the cloth and wiped the drool from his chin, meeting Greer’s concerned eyes.

  “Do you need another treatment, Master Alec?” Greer asked.

  Alec groaned and nodded.

  Greer touched his arm, and a pulse of Healing went through him. The illness churning his stomach lessened, and Alec’s shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t sure how Greer did it, but he was grateful, even if it only lasted a short time.

  Alec pushed off the railing and turned from Greer, yelling a “Thank you!” over his shoulder as he sped away. He had a short window to eat before he got sick again. He turned at some stairs, catching the eyes of several higher-ranking warriors. Tattoos covered their arms and faces, strange markings Alec still didn’t quite understand. He descended into the guts of the ship and, for now, the aroma of food didn’t make his stomach heave.

  The ship was unornamented but well crafted. The timbers had a blue tint, unlike any of the lumber in Adamah. In an adjacent room, through a solid blue-tinted door, a shift of oarsmen changed assignments. A line of warriors waited for the rowing room to empty before they took the others’ places. The warriors emerged sweaty from their efforts but didn’t seem overly exhausted. The work of the oars toned their muscles under their tattooed, dark skin.

  Alec cursed as the warriors immediately took a place in line. Not that he didn’t think they deserved it. They obviously worked hard at rowing. But they’d gotten in front of him, and if he waited too long, he might not be able to eat at all.

  The warriors didn’t speak much, except for occasional comments in the strange Talasian language. The warriors didn’t fight. They didn’t laugh. It wasn’t natural.

  Alec shifted from one foot to another, impatient. The warriors turned and stared. They always stared. It was as if Alec’s emotions were some sort of stage act. And, of course, when it came to Alec, the warriors had a performance for the entire day. He scowled. All the staring made him self-conscious and grumpy, which made the savages stare even more.

  Finally, Alec reached the front of the line. Four Talasians, similar to Alec’s age, served yellow grain over a hunk of unidentifiable dried meat. It looked revolting, but Alec needed food. His stomach even growled a bit.

  He went to the nearest person who was readying a wooden plate. He stopped, staring. For instead of a boy, a girl stood before him. Her straight, black hair hung midway down her back. It was the darkest, shiniest hair Alec had ever seen. She wore a simple white dress that dramatically contrasted to her skin, and gold bands twisted up her arms. She didn’t have any tattoos, like the boys their age. And her toes were adorned in gold rings. Why in Brim’s sake did he look at her toes? He scanned the room, noticing the lack of females on this ship. Apart from the annoying gypsy, he hadn’t seen a woman or girl since they left Renfrew. What was she doing here?

  Her head rose from preparing the plate, and she met his eyes. Surprise flicked across her face, but she masked it away.

  Her dark eyes fixed on his hair first. She’d probably never seen blond hair or curls before. They locked eyes briefly, and then hers shifted, trailing the path of the scar that ran through his face. It was red still, Alec knew. It hadn’t completely healed from his battle with Kael Trividar a few months ago.

  The presence of her hand on his chest startled him. He jerked back, releasing the plate. Her gaze fixated on his chest, particularly where she had touched him. It was the scar where he’d died, the one where Taryn had healed him and sacrificed her life for his.

  He yanked the plate away from the Talasian girl, murmuring a thank you, and then he scanned the room. Warriors sat in groups on hand-woven mats, eating with their hands. They stared at him, as usual. Constantly staring. Why in the Darkness do they always stare? Don’t they have anything better to do? He knew the nightforsaken savages had emotions; he’d seen Maska reveal them recently. So why did they pretend to feel nothing?

  Anger flooded through him. He felt it coming, knew he should get some control, but he was too tired. Too seasick. Too sad over Taryn’s death. He really didn’t give a rat’s backside what they thought of him anymore.

  “Quit looking at me!” he yelled.

  The soft conversation in the room quieted. The stares increased.

  He flared his Shay, knowing yellow, glowing eyes would give them something to talk about. A few eyebrows rose. Alec smiled, satisfied. He wasn’t sure if his emotions or his Shay of Speed was more strange to them; both were foreign to the Talasians. However, Maska had Strength; Alec wasn’t sure why the savages on this ship seemed void of any Shay powers. He’d have to ask Greer later, sometime when he was well enough to speak rather than hanging over the side of the ship.

  He headed to the farthest corner, shoveling the strange food into his mouth as he went. The effects of Greer’s treatment were already wearing off. More than likely, this slop would end up feeding the fish instead.

  Taking off his sword, he planted himself in the corner, facing away from the others. The boat rocked under him, and he pretended to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He ate, swallowing the grain nearly whole. The meat tasted pretty good, tender for being dried. It was better than eating fish—which they served far too often. He took his time eating, enjoying the flavor of something besides vomit.

  Examining the boat, he tried not to think about the wall as the only separato
r between him and the infernal water. The blue tinted wood had darker shades of blue winding through it. He wondered what kind of trees provided the wood. The workmanship of the boat was good, not what one might expect from a group of brainless savages.

  He continued to eat and study the wood grain, pretending a whole group of warriors didn’t gawk at the back of his head. A figure appeared in front of him, blocking his sight. The gypsy, Jezebelle, slid down the wall facing him, extending her long legs on either side of him.

  He scooted away quickly, feeling heat rise to his face.

  “You move fast, don’t you?” She leaned toward him.

  Alec swallowed and averted his eyes.

  “Oh, come now, Alec. You’re nearly a man. Matter of fact, if you were Talasian, you’d be a man already.” A mischievous grin pulled on her lips. “They reach manhood at fourteen years. And you are … sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Fifteen,” Alec answered.

  “Fifteen!” she said. “See! You’re a man already.”

  “If I was thirty, I still wouldn’t be interested in you.”

  She gasped, placing a hand on her breast in mock surprise. “Oh, Alec! You offend me!”

  “Not likely.” He shoveled more food into his mouth, trying to finish quickly.

  She smiled, obviously not offended. “I am a business woman. I run a traveling show of oddities with my friends, touring the countryside.” She eyed him. “It’s too bad you are so attractive; you’d make a good addition.”

  Alec snorted, filling his cheek with grain.

  “You’d be surprised what the Talasians say, Sun Warrior.”

  His head rose from his empty plate and met her smug grin. “What’d you call me?”

  “Sun Warrior.” Jezebelle stood, flipped a braid over her shoulder, and walked away.

  Alec gawked at her retreating back. What the Darkness was she talking about? As much as he couldn’t stand her, she’d prodded him in the right direction this time. He grabbed his sword and strapped it on as he followed.

  She meandered, as if expecting him. When he came beside her, she only grinned.

  Alec huffed. “What do they say?”