by Liz Craven
Ilexa’s silver eyes took on hues of cold steel, clearly understanding the man’s implication that the Hakimu had killed a defenseless babe. “Of course he is alive.”
The Malkia approached, but did not lower herself down to the dirt with the rest of them. “Creary, son of Liken, I offer you the hospitality of the Hakimu for the duration of your time with us, while we determine what has happened.”
“My son is alive?” Creary repeated, fixing eyes so full of hope on Ilexa that Thane found himself willing her to reassure the ancient enemy of his people.
“Your son is alive.” Ilexa’s voice softened, revealing Creary’s plea had eased her anger.
Creary turned those pleading eyes on the Malkia. “I accept your hospitality, but I want to see my son.”
At the Malkia’s nod, Thane and Rhys rose, but stayed within centimeters of their enemy.
“I did not know your son resided within our holding.”
“My son is six months old.” Creary pushed to his feet. “He doesn’t ‘reside’ anywhere but with his tribe.”
“I stand corrected.” The Malkia turned her head to face Ilexa who was dusting dirt off her knees. “Ilexa, you will bring Creary’s son to him in my receiving salon immediately.”
“I will not,” Ilexa replied, and Thane wanted to throttle her himself. The Malkia would not be lenient with her over this.
“I beg your pardon?” The Malkia sounded shocked, but it didn’t show on her face.
“I’m not bringing Zavian anywhere until I have your word, and Creary’s, that he will be allowed to stay to complete his treatment.”
“Treatment?” Creary sneered. “My son has Falcha Disease. He can’t be treated. I’ve consulted the best doctors on our worlds. He will spend what little time he has in this life with his tribe.”
Ilexa stepped forward, into the reach of the irate father, and Thane held his breath, tensing in preparation to take the man down if he so much as shifted his weight towards Ilexa.
“I’m not a doctor. I’m a healer. I have been treating your son. I’ve repaired the mitochondrial damage, but his development will still be delayed unless you allow me to complete his treatment. I promise that he is healing, and you will find no trace of the disease.”
Creary blinked at Ilexa in surprise. “You are the one who fixed up the boy who lost his arm?”
“He hadn’t lost his arm, but it was severely damaged.”
Creary fixed the Malkia with a determined look. “I want your word that my son and I both receive the hospitality of the Hakimu.”
To Thane’s surprise, it was Ilexa who responded with fury ringing in her voice. “The Hakimu would never harm an innocent child. I assure you Zavian will be treated as a member of the tribe, not simply receive the Hakimu’s hospitality.”
“I want to see my son.”
“Not until you give me your word.”
“I promise, I’ll allow you to complete his treatment.”
“As a sign of good will between our tribes, I too give my word that Ilexa will be allowed to continue to treat your son,” the Malkia stated.
Creary nodded. The naked relief on his face had Thane wanting to turn away, to give the man privacy.
“I will retrieve Zavian and meet you in the Malkia’s receiving room,” Ilexa promised and turned towards the holding’s entrance.
“Thane, escort the healer.” Rhys’s voice carried no emotion, but Thane knew the man well enough to sense his fury.
Thane didn’t bother with a response. He caught Ilexa in three strides and forcibly tucked her arm in his. The trembling in her fingers surprised him. She’d seemed so self-confident, so assured as she took on the Malkia and Creary before the entire tribe. Her shaking caught him off-guard, and he put his free hand over hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.
***
Ilexa said a prayer of gratitude to Cavito, N’yotan god of compassion, when Thane withheld the interrogation she had expected. She followed it with a prayer to Havilla that Quatres would be elsewhere, preparing for war. The medic had proven invaluable in helping while she worked to undo the damage caused by the Falcha Disease.
The medical ward teemed with activity as they prepared for incoming wounded. The sight made Ilexa’s stomach roll, but she kept her face impassive. She ignored the greetings called out to her, and made a beeline for the storage closet she’d requested.
She tugged her arm free from Thane to unlock the door. Blessedly, the baby was sleeping untended. Ilexa scooped him up, blankets and all, and fled the medical ward with Thane hot on her heels.
He caught her in the main hallway, and Ilexa noticed how careful he was not to jostle the baby when he grabbed her arm.
“Slow down,” he said in a low tone. “Running makes you look guilty of wrongdoing. You acquitted yourself well before the Malkia and the Quixivon delegate. Pride and confidence are your best defense right now.”
She nodded in agreement, better to let him think she hurried out of nerves than to protect Quatres.
“When we arrive, hold your head high and carry yourself with self-assurance. If you appear hesitant, it will make you look weak. The Hakimu will forgive almost anything, but weakness.”
Ilexa nodded, adjusting the blanket around the baby as she slowed her stride. “Thank you.”
Thane grunted and peered over her shoulder at the squirming bundle making sounds of protest. “He doesn’t look like Creary.”
An image of the hulking man with beady eyes and a bulbous nose flashed through her mind. “I’m sure he’ll be very grateful for that when he grows up.”
“I would be.”
Ilexa glanced up at him in surprise. “Are you actually being amusing?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
It would be easier to believe he could spin a planet in the opposite direction, but prudence kept her from saying it aloud. A sudden thought drew her up short. “I’m being sent home. That’s why you are in such a good mood.”
His features tightened, and he glanced around the corridor. A few others milled about, casting furtive looks towards her and Thane, telling her as clearly as words that the rumors were already flying about Creary’s son. Thane grabbed her arm and hauled her through the nearest doorway. Despite his rough handling, she again noticed his care not to jostle the baby.
The room could best be described as utilitarian. Several long tables sat in rows. The walls were bare, and the room had no windows and no people. Thane left the door open, so Ilexa didn’t worry that he’d dragged her in there to strangle her.
He crossed his arms over his chest, which emphasized his broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. The sight distracted her enough that her mind had to race to catch up to Thane’s words.
“The Malkia won’t force you to leave, but you will be held accountable for your actions. You might want to consider returning to N’yota.”
Thane’s tone carried a warning. And a challenge. She ignored both. “I’m not leaving.”
She’d be damned before she let them run her off like a scared child. Ilexa glared at Thane, who didn’t respond. An electric moment passed between them, charged with something she didn’t understand. It was as though her future took a deep breath and stepped sideways onto a different path. Whatever it was, Thane felt it too. She saw something dark and determined move behind his eyes. Something she couldn’t name. It wasn’t violent, but it was dangerous.
He inclined his head, sharply. “So be it,” he declared with a growl.
Before she could ask what he meant, he hauled her out of the room as unceremoniously as he’d hauled her into it. Zavian’s fussing grew louder, and she comforted him, while trying to process what had just happened. It had been momentous, leaving her uneasy and unsettled.
Arriving at the Malkia’s receiving room, Thane released her arm, and she straightened her spine. Creary paced—prowled—by the door and ripped the baby from Ilexa’s arms the second she crossed the threshold. Thane growled when Ilexa stumbled fro
m the force Creary used. She quickly put herself between the two men as a human buffer.
Ilexa watched Creary struggle against tears as he held the squirming child in his arms. Falcha Disease caused all sorts of terrible things to happen to an infant’s body, but the most obvious early symptom was the sluggishness of the child. Poor muscle and motor skill development left a diseased victim listless, barely able to move or respond to stimuli. They never laughed or cried, and getting food into them took extreme effort and patience. She could only imagine what Creary felt, seeing his son’s face screwed up in anger and hearing him express his feelings at the top of his little lungs.
“How is this possible?” He lifted amazed eyes to Ilexa.
Uncomfortable with the awe and fear her healing inspired, she had to fight the nervous urge to shift her weight from foot to foot. “I’m a trained N’yotan healer. This type of healing is common on my world. I connected with your son and…untangled the damage done by the disease.”
“How did Creary’s son come to your care?” The Malkia stepped closer to peer down at the baby.
Ilexa hesitated as all eyes fixed on her. “I am not certain I can divulge that. As a healer, I am obligated to protect my patients. That includes protecting the manner in which they come under my care.”
That wasn’t exactly true, but there was an ethical obligation to treat any patient, and N’yotan law protected all conduits for bringing a patient to a healer.
The Malkia’s expression didn’t change, but Ilexa could feel her displeasure.
“No member of the Hakimu would defy me on this. The only other tribe Ilexa has had contact with is Prylivian. Isher and his entourage visited last week.”
“Bali,” Creary snarled. “She brought you my son.”
While she didn’t understand the complicated tribal system and politics that governed the Central Alliance, Ilexa knew she had to diffuse Creary’s anger…or direct it elsewhere. Uttering a silent prayer begging forgiveness from the unknown woman, Ilexa came clean. “Bali delivered your son, but at the request of your wife.”
Creary’s head shot up. “Rhyna.”
“I treated the baby at the request of his mother.” Ilexa verbally underscored her point.
“And the Hakimu refused to treat him,” Creary guessed. Ilexa didn’t need to use her gift to see his blood pressure rising.
“Bali brought me Zavian. I chose to treat him without notifying the Malkia. I am not from the Central Alliance, and given the subterfuge undertaken by your wife and Bali, I decided to err on the side of caution and treat him without telling anyone.” Except Quatres. She prayed Havilla wouldn’t punish her lie by letting her healing gift suffer.
“And you thought I wouldn’t notice my son was missing?” Creary’s shout should have brought down the mountain.
“My only concern was healing your son.” Ilexa kept her voice gentle, but Zavian let out another irate, piercing scream. “Your son is picking up on your rage and it is upsetting him more. That’s not good for his healing.”
Creary turned his attention back to his boy. Some of Ilexa’s tension melted watching the burly man shift Zavian to his shoulder and begin the jiggle-walk all parents used to comfort an unhappy baby.
“It’s getting close to his next bottle. Would you like to give it to him?” Ilexa offered.
Creary’s eyes misted. “He can take a bottle?”
The wild mood swings the Quixivon exhibited made Ilexa’s healer instincts prickle. Of course, it didn’t take a healer to see something wrong with the man. She offered him a reassuring smile. “He can. Let me get one for you.”
The Malkia moved forward and placed a hand on Ilexa’s shoulder. “I’ll send someone for one. A regular bottle or does he take a special formula?”
“A regular bottle for now. He’ll take a special formula for his next feeding.” The information was more than the Malkia needed, but Ilexa gave it for Creary’s edification. She wanted to drive home the point Zavian still wasn’t well.
The Malkia motioned one of the guards to leave, and Ilexa swallowed a smile. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the look on the warrior’s face when sent to fetch a baby bottle bordered on hilarious.
Creary continued to pace and began murmuring to his son. The Malkia tightened her grip on Ilexa’s shoulder and took advantage of Creary’s distraction to ask under her breath, “Is something wrong with him? Is he dangerous?”
Ilexa reminded herself now was not the time to explain the gift of healing didn’t come with clairvoyant powers. Still, she’d noticed the man’s erratic behavior and wondered herself. She stepped away from the Malkia, breaking the contact that could interfere with her gift. She let her eyes unfocus as Creary paced with his son. His body showed streaming lines of fatigue and stress to her healer’s sight, as she would have expected, but she saw no imbalance in his system, no disease.
Remembering how Lia’s fever slipped past her gift, Ilexa took a deep breath and opened her mind wider. Poison, drugs—unnatural body invaders—weren’t traditionally treated by healers. Diagnosing them was hit or miss, and put a severe strain on her system. Of course, she couldn’t send Creary for a tox screen, so she tapped her gift.
Her mind screamed as it stretched beyond its normal range, but she held it open long enough to see a black ribbon threading his circulatory system. Ilexa couldn’t specifically identify the chemical, but it didn’t seem to have the same energy as a poison. It moved like an herbal treatment rather than a pharmaceutical.
She closed her mind and pulled away from her gift. Choosing her words carefully, she turned to whisper, “There is something in his system that may be affecting his behavior.”
The Malkia nodded without surprise as though Ilexa had confirmed a suspicion. She moved towards another guard stationed by the door and began issuing orders too low for Ilexa to overhear.
Zavian began to wail with renewed fury, drawing Ilexa’s attention. Was Creary a danger to the boy? She should have taken the baby out under the guise of feeding him rather than suggesting Creary do it.
The Malkia approached the pacing father, and Ilexa saw the remaining warriors tense. “Creary, I have ordered palava tea and extend an invitation to share the ritual with me.”
Creary’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“As an apology. Had I known your son had been brought to our care, I would have contacted you and avoided this entire mess.”
“As Malkia you should have known.”
“I should have,” the Malkia agreed.
Ilexa opened her mouth to protest, but Thane caught her eye. He gave a barely perceptible headshake, and she swallowed the protest. Thane may annoy her, but she knew she could trust him.
“I will share the ritual with you,” Creary finally agreed.
The door to the receiving room opened, and Quatres appeared with a bottle in hand. Ilexa managed not to run across the room, but she did move quickly to his side. She took the bottle and murmured, “I’ve kept your name out of this. Get out of here.” Turning back towards Creary, she said loudly, “Thank you, Quatres.”
Alarm lit Creary’s eyes. “I’ve never given him bottle before.”
The Malkia didn’t blink. “Why don’t you have a seat? Now just settle him like so…”
Ilexa enjoyed a flash of amusement at the way the Malkia easily maneuvered Creary into a chair. Crossing the room, Ilexa shook the bottle out of habit. Reaching the trio, she popped the cap off and waited until Creary and Zavian seemed ready, before handing the bottle to Creary.
The silence following the baby’s acceptance of the bottle seemed almost deafening after his ear-piercing screams. His father’s eyes widened to the size of serving platters as he watched his son greedily eating. The expression looked amusing on the man’s ugly face, but no one laughed. Instead, they watched in silent respect.
A knock on the door cracked loudly in the silence, startling Ilexa. The closest guard opened it, and a young woman wheeled in a silver tea service before bowing
and backing out of the room as quickly as possible. Not quick enough that Ilexa missed her furtive glance around the room. No doubt the girl intended to reign supreme in the kitchen, trading the details she noted to the gossips.
“The tea has arrived,” the Malkia announced, unnecessarily. “Perhaps the healer could finish giving your heir his meal while we have tea before it gets cold.”
Ilexa didn’t wait for Creary’s agreement. She swooped in and lifted the child, bottle and all, into her arms. Creary blinked when he found himself holding air, but made no protest.
Ilexa chose a chair across from him. It put her and the baby out of his reach and kept him within eyesight. A warrior moved to stand behind her. Ilexa didn’t have to look up to know it was Thane.
The Malkia unloaded the tea service onto a low table. Ilexa gaped when the elegant woman drank directly from the teapot and then the creamer.
Thane dropped a hand on her shoulder, making her worry she had made some shocked noise. His breath brushed her ear when he whispered, “She proves the drink isn’t poisoned as a gesture of goodwill.”
Ilexa nodded her thanks. That made a certain amount of sense. Creary chose a sugar cube from the dish and passed it to the Malkia, who ate it straight. Seeming satisfied that the Malkia hadn’t collapsed in a foaming seizure, Creary lifted the teapot and the Malkia cupped her hands around his, allowing them both to pour the tea into two cups. They lowered the pot and took their respective cups. Ilexa had a moment to notice how fragile the cup looked, dwarfed by Creary’s giant hands, before they lifted them to take a drink in unison.
The smell from the tea drifted towards her, stirred on the air by the constant passing of the pot and cups. The smell tickled her nose with scents of moss and decaying leaves. Ilexa frowned, worrying about possible interactions with whatever else Creary had ingested.
Shifting the baby, she glanced over her shoulder at Thane. He bent down, making it easier for her to ask, “What’s in that tea?”
“It’s a rare herb used for ceremonial purposes.”
“What does it do to the body?”