Despite her nerves, a tiny smile escaped her lips. “Me too.”
“That’s much better.” Victor patted her hand as the corridor widened into an upper vestibule. “And it’s a little late for summaries. We’re here.”
They stopped at the top of a grand marble staircase. Reporters and other warriors milled around five males that stood on the Scythian symbol in the middle of the foyer. Each dressed in black pants and a colored shirt, which represented their area of expertise, they glanced restlessly around the room.
Cameras flashed, and all eyes were on her. She focused on the first warrior before her gaze flitted to the next and then on down the line. When she reached the last candidate, she froze.
Glittering like diamonds on brown velvet, Jax’s dark eyes stared back at her.
Chapter Fourteen
Peanut brittle. That’s how Nya felt—like peanut brittle. Seeing Jax down there had her so tight just one tap of a rolling pin, and she’d shatter like glass.
Reporters circled the males like a rash, and years of training took hold. Nya kept her shoulders back and clenched her jaw as she smiled.
Why in the hell didn’t he say anything?
Victor leaned in. “You should know, the law forbids official candidates from telling anyone they’ve been selected until they are formally introduced to their champion. It is an archaic custom, but one Jax had to follow. Now, are you ready?”
She glanced at Jax as they started down the steps. She’d spent hours with him at the Academy, but he’d never looked as intimidating as he did right now. Dressed in solid black, indicating his allegiance to the Tovaris, made his shoulders seem broader, his jaw stronger. But the most significant change was the aggressive sparkle that danced in his eyes.
Oh, God. Why didn’t she just take off when she had the chance?
“Relax,” Victor muttered as they made their way to the foyer.
Nya’s gaze shifted to the first warrior in line. His gray eyes stood against stark black hair and deep purple shirt, his stare as intense as Jax’s.
“Anya Thalestris, may I present Killian McCrae. Born of Celtic heritage, at twenty-eight years of age he’s one of the youngest in the Special Activities Division of the CIA. Known for his linguistics, strength, and tracking skills, he’s most useful in counter-intel and has served both the Scythian Society and the United States admirably.”
Nya held out her hand, and Killian brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Anya, it is a pleasure finally meeting you.”
“And you as well.” She took in his even features and masculine scent. “Have you always lived in the States?”
“No. I was born in Scotland and lived there for most of my childhood, but then we moved through my teenage years. That’s how I picked up so many languages.”
“Oh, how many do you speak?”
Killian smiled, revealing a dimple that ran alongside his left cheek. “Not as many as you, I’m afraid. But I believe I hold the upper hand when it comes to weaponry.”
“Oh? How so?”
“When I have something in my sights, I never miss.”
Nya’s heart sped. “Is that a challenge? Because you should know better than to challenge a Scythian.”
Intrigued, Killian’s eyes blazed. “That rule only applies if you’re afraid of losing.”
She kept his gaze, not sure if the instant connection she felt was friendship or the start of something more. “It would be interesting to see who’s better with a bow, Killian McCrae.”
He leaned in. “Would you care to make a wager?”
“Depends on if I can find a bow. The Academy shipped mine to Ireland, along with the rest of my gear.”
He lowered his voice. “I’m sure I could find something to accommodate the intriguing warrior.”
“Time’s up.” Victor stepped forward and took her elbow, guiding her to the next candidate in line.
“This is Han Ming. Han is twenty-seven and is a freelance warrior from Myanmar and holds doctorates in chemistry, physics, and mechanical engineering.”
Han was only an inch or two shorter than Jax. His thick, black hair, almond-shaped eyes and skin tone a few shades darker than hers was attractive, but as they spoke there seemed to be no interest on either of their parts. They exchanged pleasantries, but Nya was relieved when they moved on.
“And this is a true Norsemen, Gunnar Wolff. His male line comes from the original Vikings and serves in the Swedish Special Forces. He’s been credited with several technological advances in software development.”
Gunner’s glossy blond hair gleamed as he bent and kissed her hand. When he looked up, she shivered at the ruthlessness in his eyes.
“I look forward to our time on the field, Anya.” His deep voice held a rasp to it like he rarely spoke.
She hoped that her leg had healed by the time they got to the finals. This male didn’t want an equal. He thrived on a challenge. They spoke of training habits and local weather before Victor said their time was up. She relaxed and moved to the next candidate.
Amber eyes sparked in anticipation as the male standing next to Jax stepped forward.
“You’re a linguist?” Nya asked, noting his white shirt, which stood in sharp contrast to his olive skin.
Victor held out his hand. “Anya, may I present Giovanni Rossi. He serves as a leader in Italy’s Special Forces, but his primary focus is in counterintelligence.”
Giovanni took Nya’s hand in both of his, one thumb circling the tender veins of her wrist while the other swept up to her elbow.
The move was hardly inappropriate, but Nya couldn’t help squirm as his thumb found the pulse at the bend of her arm. He rested his lips on her hand far longer than necessary, and when he finally looked up, passion sparked his eyes.
“You are exquisite, Bellissima Dea. The world pales to your scent, your strength, your grace.”
Nya’s eyes widened. No one had ever called her a beautiful goddess before.
Giovanni switched to Italian, his eyes never leaving her. “I wish to bring you the challenge you desire on the field ... and off.”
Aggression practically rolled off Jax as he openly glared at the Italian.
She cleared her throat and pulled away. “That was lovely.” She answered back in Italian, her voice a little tight.
Victor’s smiled widened as he guided Nya to the last of the group. “And you already know Ajax Nickius.”
Nya scowled, and Jax took her hand and stepped into her space.
“So, this is your solution to finding time for my sessions?” she whispered, glancing down the line to make sure the others couldn’t hear.
Jax sighed. “In a manner of speaking.”
“And what if I dismiss you?”
His voice turned gruff. “I would respect your decision, of course. But I am an official candidate, given that right because the council agrees that our personalities and fighting styles are a good match.” He lifted her fingers to his lips, but instead of kissing the back of her hand as the others had, he turned it over and kissed the center of her scarred palm.
Nya blushed to her hairline.
Jax leaned in. “Your therapy is vital, and your recovery means everything.” His voice became a husked whisper, swirling in the recess of her ear. “But know this. I kept my name on that list because I want to be the one you choose. I want to defeat those who think they are stronger, and I want to claim you as my romni.”
“Jax,” she muttered, not sure what to think or how to feel.
“You promised you’d try, Vtachi. Don’t give up on us before we have a chance to see where this can go.”
Victor eased her from Jax’s hold, and tension burgeoned through the silence. She looked at the others, every one of them held the same expression.
Jax had thrown down the gauntlet, and they were more than ready to pick it up.
She felt as if they were back in ancient times when warriors died competing to find an Amazonian mate. These males prepared their
entire lives for this moment, and each one of them wanted her as their equal.
Which scared the hell out of her.
Victor took her hand and wove it through his arm. They started toward the dining hall, her official candidates falling in behind.
By law, one of these males would prove themselves worthy and take her for his own. And after the tattoo ceremony, he would move into her chamber and began the process of creating the next generation.
Nya looked over her shoulder and shivered. How the hell was she supposed to pick someone to spend the rest of her life with when she’d just met most of them? And Jax ... she didn’t even know what to do with the thought of him. The budding attraction between them was confusing enough, add to it the fact that if they mated she’d become a Tova. Her heart jumped as reality struck. One of these warriors would eventually be the father of her vahna.
And didn’t that make her want to run out of the consulate screaming?
Victor’s hand subtly made its way over hers, keeping it sandwiched between his large palm and his arm like he knew what she was thinking. The front door opened, and males poured in, making their way across the foyer.
“The uncommitted,” Victor explained. “They are only allowed to mingle with official candidates during formal events and meals.”
“Why?”
Victor raised his brow. “You must not have paid much attention in your ritual and ceremonies class. It became law several hundred years ago after an uncommitted sabotaged an official candidate so he couldn’t attend the Chosen ritual.”
“Why would they do that?”
“A champion cannot call on a warrior who isn’t present for the ceremony.”
“Oh.”
Soft music played as they entered the dining hall. Males milled about as warm light cascaded from crystal chandeliers. Roundtables draped in the Champions’ regalia filled the center of the chamber, elegant bouquets serving as splashes of color in their centers. Crisp white linens wrapped long rectangle tables that lined the outer perimeter, the area reserved for the uncommitted.
A hush fell across the hall as soon as Nya crossed the threshold.
“The other candidates have been anxious to meet you as well, it seems,” Victor muttered dryly, his palm grazing her lower back.
Nya searched the room, looking for her friend. Xari’s pink colored tips grazed her jaw as she tilted her head to the side, listening to something her guide was saying. She looked over and waved.
“Ah, here we are.” Victor motioned, finding the table in maroon and gold. Her candidates gathered around the elegant bone china. Servers circled the room, filling one goblet with water, the other with rich, red wine.
Nya sat, and the others joined her. Victor was to her immediate left, but the spot to her right was empty. She looked around. Xari’s table had only seven places, and so did Myrina’s.
“Why is there an extra setting?” Nya asked Victor.
“A visitor has requested to join us.” The entire place grew quiet as everyone stood. “And here she is now.”
Nya looked across the room, and her heart sank.
The Madame Chancellor was heading straight toward them.
The SUV dipped and swayed and Ike drove the SUV between Russian spruce and pine. A wall of evergreens shrouded them from view, and they slowed, finally stopping just beyond a dilapidated castle’s front gates.
“They’re already here.” Gia pointed to another Fourth Gen unit parked along the southern wall. Guns drawn, the team surrounded the castle.
He took her hand. “You need a minute?”
“I'm fine.”
Her voice sounded wooden, dead. Ike searched Gia’s pallid features and hollow eyes. She’d been this way since she’d spoken with their pumpkin. What the hell was he supposed to say—everything would be all right? They’d get through this together? Neither of them knew what was in this godforsaken place. Fear crept in as he kept his eyes on his romni. His Gia had been strong for so long, but if they didn’t get answers soon, she might just reach her breaking point.
“We’re burning daylight,” Gia muttered, getting out of the vehicle. Ike’s frown deepened as he scrambled from his side of the SUV. He hoped like hell his intel was wrong, but his gut told him differently. The sound of a lone wren cut through the silence, signaling the all clear, and they ran, crouching below the broken rampart. Ike’s team closed in as they made their way up the broad steps and onto the front portico. Warped plywood protected the tall windows. A warrior came forward and ran his hands along its edge.
The high-pitched scream of a cordless screwdriver echoed as he systematically took the particle board from the window’s seal. Jagged shards of stained glass jutted from the casing, but the entire center of the window lay open and bare.
Ike turned to his warriors. “You’ve been given the blueprints. Gia and I start in the basement, the rest of you take the top floors. We sweep to the middle and are out in twenty. And you.” He turned back to the warrior with the tools. “Watch our six, and fix that damn window so we don’t have to take the thing apart again.”
“On it.” The warrior tucked the screwdriver under his arm and reached in his cargo pocket, pulling out a small bag that held an assortment of hinges, nuts, bolts, wiring, and screws.
Ike ducked beneath the broken glass and stepped into the room. The place had been a grand ballroom at one time. Peeling hand-painted Trompe-l'œil depicting trees and Greek scenes bled through dingy walls. Overhead, dirt and grime covered smaller paintings, which stood among the coffered ceiling. The gray mahogany floors told the room had been at the mercy of the elements for quite a while before being boarded up.
Gia took small flashlights from her pack and tossed them to the others. Everyone looked at their wrists.
“Time starts now,” Ike said. Five consecutive beeps sounded before three warriors made their way to the stairs while Gia and Ike took a path toward the back of the castle.
“Blueprints show an undercroft connected to the kitchen.” Gia scrolled across her phone screen. “It’s over here.”
Making their way past broken cabinets and large weatherworn tables, they headed toward a narrow archway.
Stone steps disappeared into the darkness, and Ike took the lead as they descended to the depths below. Rusted metal streaked from torch sconces, leaving black marks along the jagged walls. Water dripped from leaks in the ceiling; mold grew along the crooks and divots, giving the air a musty smell. Gia’s flashlight pointed to the far end of the corridor, illuminating an iron door hanging from its wooden frame. Her steps faltered as she stumbled forward.
Within the crude room, metal restraints dangled from the wall along the side where a filthy mattress lay. A wooden bucket stood in one corner, the faint odor of urine still clung to the stagnant air.
Gia’s breath hitched.
“This doesn’t prove Pumpkin was held prisoner here.” Ike swept his light along the perimeter of the wall.
“No, but that does.” Gia’s voice broke as she ran forward and dropped to her knees, her hand gently moving along crude scrapes in the wall’s stone.
Scratched and chipped in limestone was a letter written in Dacian—an apology to a father for sneaking out at night.
“Oh, God. No,” Gia’s whimper turned into a sob, becoming louder with each painful breath.
Ike looked at the stained mattress and shackles on the wall, and all he could see was their little girl bleeding at the hands of Sarkov.
Gia blamed herself, but Ike knew it was his fault. Every bit of it. He’d allowed their child to be used by the Society.
Hurried footsteps shuffled along the stone passage behind them, growing louder.
“Commander. There’s something you need to see.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Anya Thalestris. My how you’ve grown. I hear you’ve become quite the warrior.” Alexandra Vasilica reached out and gave her a hug. Shutters clicked in stereo around them.
Nya’s eyes shifted from t
able to table. Wasn’t bad enough that everyone knew the scandal her father caused when he lost their Trial. Now they had a front row show to her godmother’s media blitz. She only hoped her smile looked genuine and not forced like it was because these photos were guaranteed to land on the front page.
“Your father will be thrilled when I tell him how quickly you are recovering.” She motioned for Nya to sit, and the rest of the room followed suit. “I had to get special permission from the council to join you, but we never had a chance to visit when you first arrived. How are you finding Carpathia?”
Sweat beaded on Nya’s brow as all eyes stayed on her. She kept her back straight as she placed her hands on her lap, her thumb furiously polishing her scarred palm. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to see much of the homeland.”
The Chancellor looked at the males sitting at the table. “Perhaps you can persuade some of your candidates to show you around, yes?”
Nya kept her smile firmly in place. “What a splendid idea.”
Alexandra turned to Giovanni as servers set appetizers in front of them. “What are your plans for the immediate future? Do you wish to stay in Italy, or are you looking for a change after you’ve claimed a romni?”
“My heart will always be in Venice.” Giovanni’s dark eyes glittered. “But I assure you the beauty of Italy is a siren’s call few can resist. I’m certain Anya will find it perfect for our family.”
Nya focused on her plate as Alexandra posed the same question to Killian, Han, and Gunnar. Each answered the same as Giovanni. They had already established friends and a solid foundation. As Nya was in transition, it only made sense that she move, at least until she decided on a career path.
The waiters came to remove the first course.
“And what about you, Dr. Nickius?” Madame Chancellor asked. “Do you plan on continuing as an instructor? The Tovaris would love nothing more than to have you home in Carpathia.”
Jax waited until his plate had been cleared before leaning back in his chair. “I’ve decided to wait and see what Nya would like to do.”
The Scythian Trials Page 13