He glanced at Morne and then back at Xan. “I shall go with you.”
“No.” Morne’s mouth twisted. “Insar, it must be just you for now—I have to speak with the commander about Laithe.” He slanted a look at Laithe and added, “If we do not do that first, we will have more trouble, and that will not serve Syn or this camp well at all. So we’ll speak to the commander, and you had best be with me. Otherwise, we’ll have another problem on our hands, what with half the camp combing the forest for you.”
He gave Xan one quick glance and said, “I’ll have Kalen send word to Bron to help you look for her.”
Xan barely heard. He was already out the door, moving toward the stables himself. He didn’t bother using one of the saddles, just searched for the baern that looked to be the quickest. In a matter of heartbeats, he was mounted and chasing after Syn.
Kalen grunted as a voice touched on the edge of his mind.
Snarling in his sleep, he rolled over and flung an arm around Lee’s waist. She snuggled closer, absently stroking a hand down his side, caught within her own dreams.
The voice came louder and this time, Kalen came awake with a swear, jerking upright in bed.
Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, “I’m awake, damn it. But this had better be urgent—Morne, it’s not even dawn.”
“It is urgent. I’ll be at your door in a few seconds.”
At the door? Kalen scowled and kicked his legs over the bed, tucking the sheet around Lee and bending down, pressing his lips to her cheek. “Lee, wake up. We have company coming.”
A sulky frown darkened her face and she rolled onto her belly, burying her face in her pillow. Sighing, Kalen stroked a hand down her back. “Come on, pet.”
She turned her face toward him and popped open one eye. She glared at him through the tangle of her hair and said, “ ’M tired. ’S early. If there isn’t a fire or attack, I wanna sleep.”
“Me, too.” He snagged a pair of his pants from the foot of the bed and said, “But it’s Morne, which means it’s of the bed and said, ”But it’s Morne, which means it’s likely important. He wouldn’t be in the camp if it wasn’t.”
“Morne?” She shoved up onto her elbows, a position that pushed her very nice breasts together in a way that had Kalen’s mouth watering—he tore his eyes away before he pounced on her. “Did you say Morne?”
“Yes.”
She was out of the bed and shimmying into her own clothes. As she pulled on a thin undershirt, there was a knock at the door. She went to lunge for it and Kalen blocked her, shoved a tunic at her. His eyes flashed hot and bright as he brushed the backs of his knuckles over one nipple. It hardened, stabbing against the skimpy material of her undershirt. “Please, let me be a jealous boar here—I’d rather no man see these quite so clearly.”
Lee blushed and rolled her eyes, jerking the tunic on. “Open the damn door.”
He did.
No sooner had he opened it than Morne was inside, shoving a man in before him and closing the door quickly at his back.
Kalen’s hand flexed.
It was the Warlord. He slanted a look at Morne and, without saying a word, grabbed his pulsar from his desk and raised it, leveling it at the Warlord. “You’ve got five seconds to explain why he is out of the pit, Morne. Five—”
Lee barely heard him. She found herself staring into a pair of eyes that were eerily similar to her own. Not just the shape, not just the color—everything—they were her eyes. Without understanding why, she reached out and shoved Kalen’s pulsar down. Distantly, she heard Morne talking.
“I only need two. He’s her brother.”
Brother—
Kalen snarled and jerked the pulsar up again. “That’s not good enough for me—remember what her father tried to do?”
Lee hissed and shoved the pulsar down, glaring at her husband.
He was speaking—saying something to Morne. Morne was talking back.
But none of it made sense. The words bounced around in her head without connecting. They could have been speaking ancient Latin for all she understood. She shook her head and said quietly, “Kalen? Baby . . . please, for me. Shut up.”
There was a harsh sigh. Kalen reached up, curled his hand protectively over her shoulder. “Damn it, Lee.”
Absently, she reached up and patted his hand. “It’s okay.”
And it was. She didn’t know how she knew—it shouldn’t be okay. She could feel this man’s power. It had rivaled the power she’d sensed in her father, but there was more . . . She sensed the echo of a person she barely remembered. Her mother.
Swallowing past the knot in her throat, she said softly, “I don’t remember you.”
The Warlord stared at her, his eyes intense and probing, studying her face as though he wished to memorize her. “I remember you. You were so tiny. You laughed and smiled and danced. And you loved to listen to our mother when she sang. As did I.”
“Yes. I remember her singing.” Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away and took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the rampant emotions whirling inside her. “My brother.” She licked her lips and tried to manage a smile. It was wobbly and weak, but it was the effort that counted, right? “So, I feel really lame asking you this . . . but what’s your name?”
“Laithe.”
“Laithe.” She whispered it and it echoed inside her mind, rippled, like somebody had tossed a pebble into a pond. Closing her eyes, she whispered it again. “Laithe.” Something tickled at her mind and she frowned. “I recognize the name . . . I don’t remember you, but I recognize the name. But wasn’t there . . . ?”
Her words trailed away as she sensed a heavy tension in the room. Looking up, she glanced at Kalen and saw a familiar look on his face. It was the same one he always had when he was having one of his weird little mind-to-mind discussions. And if the look on Morne’s face was an indicator, she had no doubt about who else was in on the conversation. “Kalen?”
He glanced at her and she reached out, touched his arm. He’s okay . . . I don’t know what you two are talking about, but Laithe . . . he’s okay.
Kalen grimaced and stroked a hand down her hair. “I know, pet. Morne just more or less bellowed the same in my ear. But that isn’t the problem. Syn left the camp and according to your . . . brother . . . there may well be Warlords in the area.”
“Syn left? Warlords?” Her mind bounced from one extreme to the other. “Oh, thank God, I’m glad I won’t have to separate you two right now. What . . . Wait, Syn left the camp? What in the hell for?”
Kalen had no problem following her disjointed train of thought. He slid Laithe a narrow look and said in a flat voice, “We’ll talk, you and I. Then I’ll decide for myself if we are ‘okay.’ But for now, Syn.” He looked back at Lee and said, “Yes, Syn’s outside the camp, and yes, there may be Warlords.”
“Then let’s—”
“No.”
All three men said it at once, with such intensity, Lee found herself backing up a step. Dismayed, she advanced on her husband and poked her finger into his chest. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t.” He reached up and caught her wrist. “Damn it, Lee. Think. Don’t think like a fighter; don’t think like her friend. Think like a leader—if you’re out there, you give them two targets.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said edgily.
“Yes. You can. But you’re still a damned target.” He curled his fingers around her shoulders, eased her close. In a quiet voice, he said, “Lee, please. Don’t. Stay here. Syn’s out there, and right now, she’s not thinking clearly—don’t ask for details. I can’t get into it now. But she’s vulnerable, and she’s unaware there may be danger. Please, for me, and for her, stay here.”
Mutinous, she stared at him. He rubbed his mouth against hers, and she huffed out a sigh. “Fine. Shit. Damn it, slick, you’re going to owe me big-time for this, you know.”
“Your word?” He stroked a finger down her cheek, wa
tching her closely.
“You have it.”
He gave a terse nod. “I’m taking Bron with me as well. Until we’re back, you’re in charge. I’ll leave word with Gunner and Elina.”
The door closed at his back.
Lee attributed it to her befuddlement over her brother, her confusion and fear for Syn, but it wasn’t until they were already lost in the night that she found herself thinking, Why in the hell is she out of the camp alone at this hour?
Syn had picked up a big shadow—one by the name of Xan. Lee didn’t know him, had barely said more than a few words to him, but she’d noticed one thing—the man had a very hard time letting the captain out of his sight.
Very hard.
So how had she slipped away in the dead of the night without him at her side?
“Hell, if I tried to get a few minutes away, Kalen and me would be having it out,” she muttered.
Puzzled, she reached out to touch her mind to Kalen’s, but stopped. No. Right now, he needed to focus on Syn. She could bug him, or her friend, for explanations later.
They left the base camp on baerns, four units of ten soldiers each. Just outside the gates, Kalen studied the hastily assembled men, saw the looks being sent in Laithe’s direction. They varied from surprise to outright hate.
I very often despise this job, he thought.
“Okay, listen up—I’m not going into details right now, but this Warlord is here with my authorization. He is under my protection.”
Now everybody was staring at him. Lifting a brow, Kalen rested a forearm on the pommel of his saddle and said, “Under my protection, and make no mistake, if even one of you forget it, there will be hell to pay.”
“Why in the hell are you protecting a Warlord?”
Narrowing his eyes on the one who’d asked the question, he fired back, “That’s none of your damned business, Cohl. However, do try to remember—you had a Warlord fighting at your side for years, one who saved your life more than once. Nobody seems to have a problem with Morne’s presence. And there’s also the case of my wife.”
He grabbed the reins of his baern and guided the animal around. “Not all of them are the slaving bastards we despise. That’s all you need to know.”
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Laithe and then shot a thought at Morne. “You had better not be making any mistakes here, old friend.”
“If he was any threat, you know I would have already killed him. But trust Lee’s instincts, even if you can’t trust mine.”
Kalen sighed. “I trust both.” Out loud, he called for the men to break into teams, updating them on the current situation.
Kalen sent the Warlord—his fucking brother-in-law—with Morne. He couldn’t deal with that worry just yet and wouldn’t let himself get distracted by the man, either.
Not when one of his oldest friends was out in the dark forest, alone, unaware of the danger that may well lurk all too close.
FOURTEEN
Why didn’t I know?
Tears streamed down her face. The betrayal lay inside her like a nasty, infected wound, burning hot and painful, spilling its poison inside.
The first time she’d seen him—had there been something about him that she should have recognized?
No . . . there had been nothing. Syn dashed a hand over her damp cheeks and bent over Kerr’s neck. “Faster,” she whispered. Right then, she didn’t care where the baern took her, so long as he was far, far from here. If she ran fast enough, hard enough, maybe she could outrun her own stupidity, her own blindness.
Though it was dark, the baern’s steps were sure. The clever, nimble creatures had the night vision of a cat, and the surefootedness. As he neared one of the trails that led into the mountains, he slowed and began to take the path, winding them up and up.
Coward. A voice inside jeered at her, mocked her. You let him into your camp, into your bed—spread your thighs for him, and now that you know the truth, you run and leave him in the camp. Who knows what he might do?
Her mouth twisted. At least that voice she could silence. He was with Morne. And Laithe—she might not entirely trust the man, but he’d protect Lee, and right now, protecting Lee would mean protecting the camp.
He’s not a threat . . .
Now, that voice was harder to silence. Must be her fool heart, not wanting to believe the man could bring harm on them—on her.
But if he wasn’t there under false pretenses, he should have come clean—should have explained. Should have said something.
Memories flashed through her mind. The day she’d forced him to fight her in the circle.
I don’t believe in harming women. She’d forced him into it—had it been an act? The Anqarian bastards had no qualms on harming women—they routinely kidnapped them, forcibly bred them—raped them.
The day Vena had barged in on them, after she’d left, Syn had told him Vena didn’t belong in the rebellion.
As skilled a warrior as you are, as fine a leader as you are, part of me still feels this isn’t the place for you or any woman.
Her mouth twisted and she muttered, “Of course not. It makes sense now . . . He feels like we should be barefoot, probably with some prettily decorated slave collar around our necks, while we get impregnated with one babe after another—”
A sob tore out of her throat. She’d trusted him.
And all the while, he’d probably been using her—plotting against them.
You’re wrong. The voice in her heart grew louder. Wrong. He cares.
The day Elina had been hurt, the day the three of them had first tried to forge the net for the witches.
His hands, so possessive, so demanding and protective. His voice rumbling against her ear. I smell your skin on me while I lie in bed at night. I feel you next to me even when you are not there. I need only to think of you, and I want you. I need only to think of you, and I have to see you, have to be with you. For this . . . and more. And yet you tell me I have no stake in your safety?
A harsh keen escaped her. Beneath her, Kerr slowed to a stop. Huddling against his strong neck, she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
I have a stake in this—I have you. You are becoming everything, Syn . . . Don’t take that away from me.
You’re everything. Everything, Syn. Do not take that from me.
But it had been lies . . . had to be.
Why was he talking to you in Anqarian? Why did he seem like he knew you?
I have seen the man before, Captain. No emotion had crossed that hard, impassive face. No regret. No remorse.
“Oh, God.” She lifted her face to the sky, terrified the pain inside her would shatter her into a million pieces.
She covered her ears with her hands, trying to drown out the voices in her memory.
What does Insar mean?
Battlelord.
“This isn’t happening.”
After all this time, she’d found a man who meant something. He hadn’t just pleased her in bed, and he hadn’t just understood her. He’d been more . . . everything. Friend. Lover. Love—not just her lover, but her love.
“I love him,” she whispered, exhausted. The storm of grief hadn’t passed, but it had ebbed, and once more, she could think again. Sadly, she could still feel, and she felt completely broken inside, her heart and soul shattered.
Through the chaos in her mind, she felt people reaching for her. Elina. Kalen. And though she didn’t understand how, she thought she’d sensed Xan’s presence as well. Blocking it off, she straightened in the saddle and looked down to the valley where the base was nestled. Kerr had picked his way to an outcropping, high above the base.
Dawn had come and gone without her realizing it. Full morning sun shone through the clouds. She could see the camp, but she was too far away to make out anything save the buildings and the small specks that were the people. Duty demanded she return to the camp, but for the first time in a long time, possibly ever, Syn didn’t give a damn about her duty. If she wasn�
��t needed right now, she didn’t want to be there.
Sinking just the barest bit into the energy plain, she sensed Elina’s presence, Lee’s. They were there, watchful, waiting, worried. But not the adrenaline-rush worry that came from danger. No, this was focused . . . at her.
Just before they sensed her, just before they could reach out to her, she pulled back.
Whistling softly to Kerr, she nosed him once more along the trail. They’d managed to drive most of the demons out of the more mountainous areas of their land. She’d go there. A day. She would take this one day for herself. They didn’t need her right now—they didn’t need Captain Laisyn Caar, and right now, she needed to just be Syn. She needed to find someplace to try to gather up the ragged pieces of her heart, her soul, her pride.
The ache in his chest grew, echoed by an ache in his throat.
“Come on, witch. Slow it down a bit, won’t you?” Xan muttered, staring all around.
He could scent her faintly. Logically, he knew he couldn’t be too far away, but impatience rode him, burned through him. He needed to find her . . . now.
A breeze kicked up, chilling the damp streaks on his face, but when he reached up to brush it aside, his cheeks were dry. Cool. Dry. When he closed his eye, he could feel the ice of the tears, though. On both sides. Insane, because even if he had given in to the urge to weep, no tears would have fallen from the ruin of his right eye.
“What in the hell . . .” But he already knew. Syn’s tears. He was feeling her tears. Bleeding sands.
Her gift . . . ? Yes. It had to be—the part of herself she’d always kept closed up and locked away. Somehow, it was leaking through, and he was feeling her. Now he had both his pain and hers lodged inside him. His heart stuttered, felt as though it would rend in two. “Syn, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
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