Warrior

by Zoë Archer

  Then she clasped Gabriel tightly. Lamb was dead, but Gabriel was alive. Wetness coursed down her cheeks. “I tried to get to you,” she whispered. “I saw Tsend attack you, but I couldn’t get to you.”

  “He’s as dead as Lamb,” Gabriel said, holding her close, cradling her head.

  “What about Edgeworth?”

  “Gone,” Catullus said. He and Hsiung Ming, both bloodied but largely unhurt, strode toward them. “I saw him sprinkling some dried flowers into a fire, then he dove in and disappeared. Some means of transportation, I believe. But I don’t know exactly where he went.”

  “Let him go to the devil,” Gabriel said. She felt him shaking, and held him tighter. She wanted to crawl inside of him just to assure herself that he was real and unharmed. They were all here, all safe, except—

  “Oh, God,” Thalia cried. She looked toward the pagoda, which, miraculously, still stood. “Bennett!”

  The man in question appeared at the doorway of the now barely standing pagoda, covered in red dust. Slapping at his sleeves and wiping at his face, he walked out, limping a little.

  “If any of you ever want to wrestle a golem,” he coughed, “I highly discourage you from doing so. More trouble than a pack of nuns.” Bennett held up the Star of David in his battered hand. “This needs to be returned to whomever it was stolen from, I believe.”

  Thalia glanced up at Gabriel and saw him regarding Bennett with a new respect. Yes, Bennett was an incorrigible flirt, but he was a fighter, too. All of them—Gabriel, the Blades, the monks, the bandits, even the tribesmen—were fighters. Including herself. And soon, she would have the scars to prove it.

  It was a bloody mess. The monastery courtyard filled with the wounded and monks attending to them, the destroyed buildings, camels and horses wandering around. Altan oversaw the tending of his men as his own wounds were bound. Not much different from the aftermaths of countless battles, but different for so many reasons. Gabriel had never witnessed a Smoke Dragon being corralled back into a tea kettle until this very day. It was a bit trickier than one would have first supposed. He’d seen things he would never have believed just a month ago. A giant of clay. A rifle that could shoot flame.

  The woman he wanted to marry having her wounds dressed after she’d fought to the death with a black-hearted son of a bitch.

  Thalia submitted patiently and without complaint as Lan Shun applied poultices to the cut on her throat and the deep gash across her palm. Gabriel could barely bring himself to look at her injuries. Every time he saw them, the crusts of her blood on her skin, he wanted to bring Lamb back to life so he could eviscerate that highborn maggot. But Thalia, bless her fierce heart, had already done the job of killing Lamb. Gabriel contented himself with holding Thalia’s uninjured hand as they sat on the floor of the temple. He had no plans to release her any time soon. Like, say, for the next century.

  “Will Edgeworth come back with more Heirs?” Thalia asked Graves, who stood nearby, critically examining the crooked earpiece of his spectacles.

  “Doubtful. He already knows that the Source won’t be taken without a messy fight; it already cost the life of one Heir. And if he does,” Graves continued, straightening the earpiece, “we know we can best them.”

  “The Blades will come back, if they are needed,” Day said to Lan Shun.

  The head monk nodded.

  “What will happen to the kettle now?” asked Altan.

  Lan Shun, finishing dressing Thalia’s wounds, gathered up the kettle and wrapped it in yellow silk. “We shall keep it, as it had been kept for generations, before the khan came.”

  “But will it be safe?” Gabriel demanded. He hadn’t risked Thalia’s neck and his own just to have a Source left unguarded for some other greedy fool to stumble across and covet.

  “Our lesson was learned the first time it was stolen,” Lan Shun said with a half smile. “Trust me, there will be no breaking the charm we set over our treasure.” He bustled from the temple, with several monks serving as guards for the kettle.

  Gabriel muttered to himself, but he had to believe the head monk. It had to be maddening, being a Blade of the Rose, knowing that all over the world were unprotected Sources and being unable to safeguard them all. But how much worse was it, loving a Blade, understanding that he or she would constantly have his or her life in jeopardy.

  He glanced over at Thalia, who was contemplating a statue of an equally thoughtful Buddha. She’d grown quiet since the battle, drawn into herself. He tried not to worry overmuch about this. She was exhausted, and had just undergone the nasty experience of warfare, had killed several men that day. It was bound to leave her not quite her usual self. He wasn’t entirely certain, though, why she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Left him more than a little edgy.

  The close council of the Blades didn’t sit any easier with him. Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming were gathered in a corner of the temple, talking lowly amongst themselves and looking at Thalia. When the three men nodded and then began walking toward her, Gabriel got to his feet, placing himself in front of her.

  “What the hell are you planning?” he growled at the Blades. He didn’t like the serious looks on their faces one bit. It meant trouble.

  None of the men seemed offended by Gabriel’s brazen question. Day actually looked at him with a touch of fondness. “It’s time,” he said simply.

  “For what?”

  “For what I’ve been waiting for,” Thalia said, standing up and placing herself at Gabriel’s side. “To finally become a Blade of the Rose.” Her bright green eyes glistened, and her pale cheeks flushed. She removed the Compass from her pocket. “To make this mine in truth.”

  “You’ve wanted this your whole life,” Gabriel said softly.

  She nodded. “Ever since I learned about the Blades. But, Gabriel,” she said, turning to him, “you understand what that means.”

  The burning in his throat told him everything he needed to know. “It means that you can be called at any time. Every day brings you close to danger.”

  “Not unlike being a soldier, I imagine.” She smiled, bittersweet.

  “I’m not a soldier anymore.” His gaze burned down at her. “Something you want to ask me, Thalia?”

  She glanced over at Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming, all of whom promptly began examining the walls of the temple as if they’d never seen something as miraculous as walls before. In Thalia and Gabriel’s small, illusory bubble of privacy, she turned back to him. “Are you going to make me choose? Between the Blades and you?”

  It took him a minute before he could speak. “Jesus, Thalia,” Gabriel swore, stunned and a trace angry. “I’m not so small a man that I’d do that. You can’t think I would.”

  Relief shone in her eyes. “I did not think so, but I wanted to be sure. There are so many risks.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said firmly, taking her chin in his hand, “don’t doubt me. I’ve run all over hell and back, seen things and faced things I never would’ve believed, including the kind of fear I’d never felt before. And I did all of that because I love you. That’s not going to change no matter what you do, whether you’re a Blade or not.”

  She blinked, droplets shining in her eyelashes. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Releasing her, Gabriel stalked over to the Blades. Despite the fact that they were supposedly spellbound by the temple’s walls, each man smiled, the eavesdropping buggers. “Me, too,” Gabriel said.

  “You, what?” Graves asked.

  “I want to become a Blade too. Think I’ve earned it.”

  Surprised, Thalia flinched behind him, while Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming exchanged glances. “Be sure,” Day said, serious. “This isn’t a momentary fancy, Huntley. It’s a lifetime’s responsibility.”

  “Don’t lecture me about responsibility, lad,” Gabriel growled. “I know where my priorities lie. With Thalia. Her cause is mine. And I’ll fight for her until there’s not a damned breath left in my body.”

  “I
f you’re certain, then,” Graves said after a moment.

  Gritting his teeth, Gabriel said, “I can’t get any more certain. You want me to bleed, I’ll do it.” He pulled the knife from his belt, put it to his forearm, and moved to cut himself as Thalia yelped in alarm.

  Day’s hand on the hilt of the knife stopped Gabriel. “Not necessary. Blades don’t require blood oaths.”

  “Thank God,” Thalia said, coming forward and wrapping her arm around Gabriel’s waist. She smiled up at him, and in her face he saw everything he ever wanted in life, and more. So much more. “I think we’ve seen enough blood for one day.”

  “If you will give us a few minutes,” Hsiung Ming said, “we will prepare for the initiation.” He and the two other Blades quietly excused themselves and slipped away.

  Once they had gone, Thalia and Gabriel left the temple. Neither of them asked where they were going. They knew, without speaking, their destination. Together, hands interlaced, they climbed the stairs that led to the parapet. From their vantage, Gabriel and Thalia could see the whole of the monastery, damaged from the siege. The gate had been shattered, the pagoda would need to be demolished and rebuilt, and several other buildings sported cracks in the walls and chips in the masonry. The monastery would be restored and serve to guard the Source for centuries more. But the battle site didn’t hold their attention for long.

  They looked out over the Gobi. Afternoon sunlight blazed across the desert, and the sky was a cold blue fire above. With Thalia warm at his side, Gabriel closed his eyes and felt the dry wind sweep over his face, smelled the hard-baked earth. Beneath it all, he could feel, like a pulse, the magic of the Source, not only here, at the monastery, but everywhere in the world. He’d never noticed such things before. It had taken Thalia to open him.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “I will marry you.”

  He chuckled as he felt a happiness he’d never believed he could experience. Opening his eyes, he brought the back of her hand to his lips. “It was a good wind that blew me to your door,” he said.

  “Do you think it was magic that brought us together?” she asked him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He smelled smoke in her hair and, underneath, the sweetness of her skin.

  “Warriors such as us don’t need magic,” he said. He turned and clasped her in his arms, looked down into her dusty, tired face, so lovely he ached. “We make our own.”

  Epilogue

  Winter’s Benefit

  The bullet whizzed past Thalia’s ear and plunged into the snow behind her, sending up a spray of ice. She crouched behind the fence of the sheep enclosure, then, when the Russians’ shots momentarily stopped, she rose up slightly, took aim and fired. Someone cursed in Russian, and she smiled to herself.

  “Get him in the hand?” Gabriel asked, hunkered beside her. At her nod, he grinned. “There’s a lass.”

  “Last I checked, I was your wife, not a lass.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “You’re both.” Another round of shots rang out, splintering the wood at the top of the fence. Fortunately, the sheep inside the pen crowded together, bleating in annoyance, far away from the threat. While Thalia reloaded, Gabriel fired on the band of five Russians who’d come for the ruby. A yelp sounded.

  “Shoulder?” Thalia asked when Gabriel bent back down to load more ammunition. When he nodded, they shared a smile. Fighting with her husband by her side under the icy azure sky, in the diamond snow—she loved her life. She loved him. More each day.

  She made herself ignore the sharp winds that tried their best to find some bit of unprotected skin. Her fur-lined del and thick woolen hat ensured that she stayed relatively insulated, but gave her enough freedom of movement so that when fools like these Russians came around, seeking the tribe’s ruby, she had no trouble defending the gem. Treasure hunters were infrequent, but showed up often enough so that she and Gabriel stayed busy.

  “I forgot to ask,” Gabriel said, between salvos. “Everything all right with Oyuun?”

  “She’s convinced that her niece is going to enter the nadaam next year. Thank you,” she added, when he fired on an advancing Russian, who then had the good sense to run back to his companions as they huddled behind an empty ger.

  Gabriel’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Will she?”

  “If she does, she won’t be the only female in the tournament. I’ve heard from three others that girls from surrounding tribes are already training.”

  “The nadaam is in October,” he pointed out.

  More shots. She rolled her eyes. “This is growing tiresome, and I’m getting cold.”

  “Ready, then.” Gabriel counted to three, and they charged the Russians. Not expecting a frontal attack, the would-be thieves were unprepared. Thalia, using some of the Shaolin kung fu taught to her by Lan Shun, kicked one man in the chest and struck another with a blow to the stomach. They both collapsed into the snow, groaning.

  Gabriel took a more traditional approach with his fists, sending them crashing into jaws and ribcages. “You sure none of these sods is Sergei?” he panted as he easily avoided one of the Russian’s punches.

  She glanced around quickly. “Sorry. He’s not here.”

  Gathering up a fistful of one man’s coat, Gabriel slammed a punch into the Russian’s face and the man groaned before lapsing into unconsciousness. “Damn.”

  “Enough! Enough!” the Russians shouted in terror. “We yield!” They covered themselves with their arms for protection.

  “Leave, then,” Gabriel said, using the small amount of Russian he’d learned from Thalia.

  “And tell no one about the ruby,” Thalia added, “or they’ll suffer a similar fate.”

  With whimpers and moans, the Russians agreed, then stumbled toward their horses, dragging their insensate comrade, before clumsily getting back into the saddles. Thalia and Gabriel held hands as they watched the Russians ride away. Once the thwarted thieves disappeared over the horizon, Gabriel turned to her. She caught her breath at the sight of him. How he permeated the space of the steppe with his bold presence, and how she marveled every time she saw him in all his golden masculinity. With his broad shoulders filling his del, his fair hair now a bit longer, and carnal smile meant for Thalia alone, her husband was a vision of rugged virility that never ceased to stir her.

  “Let’s get you inside and warm,” he rumbled.

  They walked back to their ger. She smiled to herself when she saw sturdy horses grazing on the crimson flowers that poked through their frozen blanket. The kettle had long since been returned to China, but its magic still flowed strong in the people who had kept it for centuries.

  A cheerful column of smoke rose up from their ger. They entered the tent and shut the door fast behind them. It took Thalia’s eyes a moment to adjust to the soft light inside the tent after the dazzling brightness of outside. While she waited for her eyes to acclimate, she felt her heavy del removed by unseen hands, her hat plucked from her head. And a warm kiss on the tip of her chilled nose.

  “Go warm up,” Gabriel instructed her. Thalia nodded and moved to the stove that blazed at the center of the ger. She sighed when the fire’s heat began to thaw her numb fingers.

  “They do hold the nadaam in October,” she said, continuing their earlier conversation, as if the fight with the Russians had been a minor interruption. “Which means we’ll be with the tribe, guarding the ruby, for months more.”

  “Your father said we might be called back to England before then.”

  She nodded with a concerned frown. “Something is brewing. The Heirs now have the Primal Source, but no one knows how or when they will use it, so we must be ready. But, until then, we must stay with the tribe. Are you content with that?”

  “Hm, let’s see,” Gabriel mused. He began leading her toward their sleeping pallet. “Months of endless, freezing cold. Nothing but mutton and dried cheese to eat. Cantankerous horses and grumpy sheep. Oh, and fighting off any idiot who wants the ruby for himself. Does that con
tent me?”

  They reached the sleeping pallet, and Gabriel sank down, drawing Thalia with him. He pulled off her boots and then his own, then started to work at the fastenings of her tunic. Just the brushing of his fingers over her covered skin sent Thalia’s pulse speeding, more so than the skirmish minutes earlier.

  Although she was desperate for his touch, she covered his hand with her own, stilling him. “Does it?” she asked, looking into his topaz eyes, seeing her world and her heart reflected there. “I don’t want you to have regrets.”

  He did not hesitate in his reply. “None. I’m never so happy as I am when we’re out on the steppe together, battling side by side. Although,” he added, that wicked smile curving his delicious mouth just before he brought it down onto her own lips, “this cold weather makes me damned fond of keeping warm with you.”

  His hand stroked down her neck, grazing the chain and locket she wore at her throat. It had been a gift from her father on her wedding day. Thalia knew, without even looking, that if she were to open the locket she would see the magical representations of those she loved most. Her father. Batu. And especially Gabriel. Forever close to her heart.

  Don’t miss the rest of

  The Blades of the Rose series,

  coming this fall!

  In October, let SCOUNDREL whisk you away to the

  shores of Greece…

  The Blades of the Rose are sworn to protect the Sources

  of magic in the world. But the work is dangerous—and

  they can’t always protect their own…

  READY FOR ACTION

  London Harcourt’s father is bent on subjugating the world’s magic to British rule. But since London is a mere female, he hasn’t bothered to tell her so. He’s said only that he’s leading a voyage to the Greek Isles. No matter, after a smothering marriage and three years of straitlaced widowhood, London jumps at the opportunity—unfortunately, right into the arms of Bennett Day…