Tristan pushed his monster-shaped hands together in front of him then opened his arms, parting the overgrown jungle to accommodate his girth as he stepped into the clearing with a thump, thump, thump.
“I may not be able stop you from killing me to get your pound of flesh, Tristan, but touch me—” She let her gaze drop to the bulge in his pants and spun the dagger in her hands. “And I’ll get my own pound of flesh with one swipe.”
The only part of him that retained any human quality was his black eyes as they studied her quietly.
His eyes were . . . sad.
Had she misread his lust?
She wished she had a better grasp on her empathic abilities, but they were constanly developing.
Besides, how could anyone tell what an Alterant was thinking or feeling in beast state when no one had observed them in a natural setting?
Wait a minute. She was standing here talking to a shifted Alterant.
She tried again. “I want to help you, Tristan—”
Her dagger flew up out of her hands and landed halfway between them, stuck in the ground.
He crossed beefy arms and angled his head. His mouth pulled tight on one side in what she supposed could be considered a smug look.
This might be her best, her only, chance to plead her case to him. “Hey, I’m only here because you turned loose the other three Alterants and the Tribunal thinks I told you to, which we both know isn’t true. I just want to help—”
His snarl clawed her nerves.
That might have been the wrong tactic.
He growled and stomped his foot. The ground vibrated with his fury. Teeth bared and claws extended, he lunged for her.
Evalle backpedaled ten fast steps and lost her footing.
All her attempts to regain her balance and race away ended with her feet coming out from under her. She fell, but she arched to land as far away from him as she could.
When the beast rushed her, he slammed to a stop two steps away, his body plastered against an invisible wall.
His cage.
He rammed the wall over and over again, pummeling the boundary of his prison. He beat the enclosure so hard with his fists that she felt the concussion like multiple blasts of a bomb.
She covered her ears against his howls that were equal parts mournful and furious.
The desperate sound struck her heart sharp as an ice pick.
She’d put Tristan back in there when all the reasons had weighed in favor of that decision. He’d sided with the Kujoo who had helped him escape. He’d helped the Medb priestess capture Evalle. He’d tried to keep the Ngak Stone to use for his own benefit.
But seeing him now in this pain, her heart argued that anyone stuck here for years would have accepted the Kujoo’s help. That Tristan had intervened, or tried to, when the Medb witch had started torturing Evalle. That he’d only wanted the Ngak Stone’s power to guarantee freedom for himself and other Alterants.
How could she fault him when he’d offered that same freedom to her and she’d turned her back on him to stand with the Beladors?
And she couldn’t leave now.
Even if she managed to find her way out of this jungle alive, she had no one but Tristan to point her toward the escaped Alterants.
With every minute she lost, Brina’s safety hung in the balance and with it the fate of every Belador on earth.
And her only weapon was stuck in the ground on the wrong side of that wall.
NINE
If Macha finds out what I agreed to at the Tribunal meeting, she may finally grant my wish to leave here . . . in a casket.
Brina paced the stone floors of the castle her ancestors had built thousands of years ago as a haven for the Treoir family.
She’d once loved life in this castle.
That had been before she’d lost her entire family and become the sole guardian of the Beladors. Supernatural power of all Beladors existed only as long as a Treoir remained physically inside this castle on this island.
As the only Treoir left alive after Medb warlocks had murdered her da and brothers four years ago, she was, for practical purposes, imprisoned here forever.
Really. She was immortal.
And Macha wouldn’t kill her.
Not until Brina bore an heir to the dynasty.
She didn’t particularly want to end her life at twenty-four, but living meant more than breathing, and that’s all she’d been doing for a long time.
A warrior queen should be out on the front lines with her tribe, especially with Alterants now shifting faster than Macha changed her hair color.
Something had triggered these changes. Who or what?
The Medb topped her list of suspects.
Belador warriors were battling the beasts while Brina sat in this hollow castle.
No more.
She’d avoided discussion of the Treoir heir for four long years here, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. Every time she left the castle, even in holographic form, she put the Belador powers at risk if the Medb figured out how to capture her holographic image.
She shuddered at the mere possibility.
The time had come for an heir.
And it was high time that Macha listened to her if the goddess wanted that heir in the near future.
Brina flopped down on a sofa carved from the trunk of a tree. It had Celtic designs scrolled along the edges and was padded with down-filled cushions. Her favorite place to strategize.
Her da had been a brilliant strategic planner.
Now she needed her own battle plan.
One that provided for a husband who could pass through the castle warding. Not just any man but—
The ward protecting Treoir Castle shivered with the introduction of power. Massive power.
“Must you always sulk?”
Brina sighed at Macha’s husky voice. Had she called up the goddess by thinking about her? Unfortunately, when Brina’s father had warded the castle against any other immortals, he’d made an allowance for the Celtic goddess to pass through unharmed.
He’d believed Macha would watch over his only daughter.
He’d never considered how a goddess could turn eternity into a living nightmare.
Brina lifted her gaze to where Macha now lounged above the giant stone mantel that spanned a fireplace two brawny warriors could stand inside. Waves of tawny hair spun with sunlight floated past Macha’s bare shoulders and covered the arm she was using to prop herself up. Today she wore a dazzling white gown created with thousands of perfect pearls. She turned her luminous hazel green gaze downward toward the fireplace grate and logs appeared. Flames blazed to life.
Macha’s attempt at being hospitable.
Or she was in one of her decorating moods.
Brina appreciated the gesture, but she would not accept being reduced to the level of a child. “Wee ones sulk. I am contemplative.”
“Ah, yes, semantics, as mortals like to say.” Macha waved long fingers glittering with jewels and rare metals carved in intricate designs.
“I’m glad you’ve come by,” Brina replied. The only reaction she received was a glint of curiosity in Macha’s eyes.
Brina went on. “I feel it’s time we discussed an heir.”
Macha brightened at what had to be an unexpected topic. “I have been so patient, allowing you to adjust to this life.”
Is that what Macha thinks I’ve been doing for the past four years in this place? Adjusting?
Brina forced her hands to remain at ease and not flinch with anger. She’d learned long ago that showing any emotion handed the goddess ammunition to use at a later time. Not that Macha was a cruel or unfair goddess, but like all deities she used everything within her power to get her way.
“Why must you keep this place so gloomy?” Macha glanced around the room.
Candles flickered to life, dancing soft light against the stone walls. A wicker basket filled with dried flowers and spices appeared on the smooth wooden table her father had
crafted with his own hands, right down to the inlaid Belador Triquetra emblem. Her father had sat on that stout table facing her the last night they’d spoken.
Six nights later, Macha had informed Brina that her father and brothers were dead and that Brina could not leave the castle. Some memories were best left unbidden.
The goddess kept dabbling until the room changed from dark and lonely to toasty and . . . suspicious.
Watching Macha decorate picked at Brina’s limited patience.
When Macha spoke, her vibrant voice smoked through the room with purpose. “I’m pleased to find you ready to do your duty to secure the future of the Beladors.”
As if I have ever shirked my duty to the tribe. “Do allow me to point out their future is why I’m here. Every. Day. Forever.”
And alone, because Macha professed she could not remove the cursed warding.
Macha made a clicking sound of reprimand. “Insolence is unattractive, unproductive and . . . unwise.”
Not like she’s going to kill me, but she could make life more miserable than it is, though that would be hard to imagine. “My apologies.”
The goddess stared up as if studying the cathedral-high ceilings, then lowered an unreadable gaze. “I know you’re lonely here and we must continue your family dynasty.” She smiled. “Marriage would be good for you.”
Brina couldn’t prevent the sudden joy that flooded her face. Had she gotten lucky enough to catch the goddess on one of her more benevolent days? Macha knew who Brina wanted, the man she craved every waking hour. “I completely agree and—”
“You will choose a mortal Belador to wed, one who can enter the castle.”
Stunned, Brina lowered her bare feet to the rug-covered floor and stood, all ability to shield her emotions gone in the face of what Macha was suggesting.
Not suggesting. Ordering.
Brina said softly, “You know Tzader and I have been practically betrothed since childhood. He is the only man I want.”
The only man she’d ever loved.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot deliver you Tzader,” Macha said with such heartfelt sadness that Brina was tempted to believe her.
But facing the loss of the only person she wanted, the one person she lived for, caused her to speak without guarding her words. “Who can? Is there one more powerful than you?”
The air crackled with sparks of electricity, a prelude to real anger from Macha that could make the heavens plead for peace. “Stop longing for what you cannot have and act as an adult! As an immortal, Tzader can never pass through this warding.”
“He could if you would help us.”
“I gave my promise to uphold the warding around this castle and to assure Tzader’s immortality indefinitely. You expect me to break vows to both of your fathers?”
Brina should tone down her words, but she couldn’t. “I’m asking why you can’t right a wrong. Or won’t. Our fathers had no idea what they were doing to us. My da would never have created a ward that barred Tzader from the castle. He didn’t know Tzader’s father was going to ask you to pass his immortality to his son if he died fighting alongside my father and his men. And nobody expected our families would be wiped from the earth that day.”
Except maybe Macha.
Had she helped her da place this ward?
Brina hoped to never find out any of that was true.
Macha shrugged her indifference. “True, but it changes nothing. You will produce an heir in one year—”
Wait a minute. How had this gotten so far off course? “Or what? I do believe killing me would defeat the purpose.”
“Spare me the melodrama and the sarcasm.” A mild reaction flowed over Macha’s face that shouldn’t be mistaken as encouraging. She was a female, and a deity, at her best when she had everyone who served her squirming. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of all Treoir heirs as well as protect my warriors from losing their powers. This castle can never fall to the Medb. The human world would face destruction like never seen before if the Beladors are conquered.”
That was well understood. But Beladors around the world weren’t the only ones at risk if the Medb killed Brina and took control of Treoir.
Macha drew power from the Beladors loyal to her. Take out the Belador power base and Macha became vulnerable. She’d always been a fair and compassionate goddess, but where was her compassion now?
When the goddess angled her head in a show of patience, her hair lifted, darkened to a deep chestnut color, and adjusted back into place around her shoulders of its own volition. “You don’t understand, do you?”
That might be possible if Brina could get an unclouded answer from Macha, but gods and goddesses spoke in circles. Doing so allowed them to wiggle out of a tight spot verbally.
Brina tried to sound sincere and open-minded when she said, “Please enlighten me, Goddess.”
It must not have sounded as sincere to Macha, who shot her a testy look. “I have been remiss in allowing you to wait so long to produce an heir, but . . . I could not ask that of one so young as you were when your family was killed. But you’ve indicated you’re ready and will take a mate.”
“Not unless it’s Tzader.”
“Why do you make this so difficult, Brina? You will either willingly choose a mate who can pass through this ward, or you will no longer leave this castle in any form and I will not allow Tzader to speak with you again.”
What? “I’ll go mad if I can’t at least travel in hologram or never see Tzader again.”
“Must you always think only of yourself?”
An unfair accusation, but it still nicked Brina’s pride. “I have done my duty as a Treoir descendant since birth. How can you accuse me of being selfish?”
“Oh, you have never failed your tribe, but what of Tzader? Do you expect him to wait forever on a woman he can never have?”
Yes. No. Brina didn’t know. I dream of him every night, holding me and making me laugh, just like when we were teens. She missed his smile, hadn’t seen it in a long time.
That gave her pause.
Was his unhappiness her fault for holding him to a teenage vow? Was she being selfish, expecting him to live alone in the mortal world just because she was stuck in this grand prison?
She would wait until the end of time for him, but she’d never force that on Tzader. His happiness meant all to her.
“You care for him,” Macha continued. “But he grows closer to another woman, the Alterant Evalle.”
The ugly sting of jealousy creeping up Brina’s spine was as full of blarney as the goddess. Tzader and Quinn both treated Evalle as no more than a younger sister. “Tzader would never choose Evalle over me.”
She hoped.
“Then why does he always defend Evalle, when the Alterants are an unknown element in our world? His allegiance with the Alterant presents a danger to you. The castle was warded against immortals, which Alterants don’t appear to be, which means they can breach Treoir’s defenses. They may be half Belador, but what about the unknown half?”
Brina puckered her forehead in thought, arguing, “Our warriors have overpowered the Alterants in their beast state, and Evalle has proven herself a loyal follower.”
At least Brina hoped she hadn’t misplaced her faith in Evalle, since the Tribunal would hold her responsible if Evalle failed to find the three escaped Alterants.
No time to worry about that right now.
Macha’s voice hardened with censure. “Alterants are shifting into beasts everywhere in Tzader’s territory.”
“The ones in the past two days don’t have green eyes,” Brina pointed out, though it meant little in the face of so many deaths. But she had a feeling the eye color was significant.
Macha admitted, “Our warriors are destroying these new beasts, but we have lost Beladors to the green-eyed Alterants in the past, and they still pose a threat. Have you considered that the green-eyed ones may be connected to the traitor that eludes our warriors?”
<
br /> “Why do you say that?” Brina asked, surprised at the direction of Macha’s thinking.
“When Tzader and Quinn were captured by the Medb in Utah two years ago with the Alterant Evalle, the traitor was involved. Just a few weeks ago when an Alterant shifted and killed nine Beladors in . . . what do the humans call that place?”
“North Carolina.”
“Ah, yes. When our warriors died there, word of the traitor surfaced again. Consider the first Alterant that shifted and attacked Beladors six years ago. Tzader believes the traitor Larsen O’Meary was the Belador who had called members of our tribe to confront the beast.”
Aware of the past, Brina had no argument. Thankfully, Tzader and his team had survived that first meeting with an Alterant.
“Even though Larsen O’Meary is presumed dead, a traitor still walks free,” Macha pointed out. “Have you forgotten how one treasonous Belador helped the Medb destroy your family and put you in this situation?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why have you not ordered the only O’Meary descendant to go through a mind probe?”
Brina tried to form words to answer the ridiculous question. “Because we have no reason to doubt young Conlan O’Meary’s loyalty just because his da was rotten to the core.”
“Then there should be no issue with having Vladimir Quinn probe all areas of Conlan’s mind, right?”
How could this woman suspect the O’Meary boy? But Brina knew which battles to fight, and this was not one. Macha clearly wanted Conlan investigated. “I shall see it done.”
“That sounds more like a Treoir leader.”
Brina heard the warning and realized she had to prove to Macha she would always put the future of the Beladors first, even ahead of her own happiness. To prove she thought as a leader, Brina said, “I believe the humans suddenly turning into beasts and killing are not the same as our green-eyed Alterants.”
“Why?”
“Because neither Tristan nor Evalle shifted and killed humans.” Brina risked bringing up a sore topic. She’d argued against imprisoning Tristan the first time, but the goddess had implied she’d been doing it for his safety. Then Macha had forbidden Brina from speaking about his capture to anyone.
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