Tracker (Outcasts Book 3)

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Back to your story,” Kage prompted.

  Shaking away the distracting interruption, she told him everything that had happened. She kept the information concise and factual. Both males listened intently and only interrupted when something she said didn’t make sense to them. “So Arrista turned me loose and your men brought me here,” Sara concluded.

  “Damn. You’re one hell of a spy, even if you weren’t trying to be.” The overlord stood and rolled his shoulders. “This is more intel on the elves than we’ve managed to collect since we’ve been here.”

  She smiled, embarrassed by the praise. “They’re very different than I expected. From what little I’d heard, I pictured Legolas running through the forest with his bow and arrow. The physical similarities are striking, but these are sophisticated beings with technology equal to, maybe even superior to, yours.”

  The overlord nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “Would you be willing to give us a sample of your blood?”

  She tensed, unnerved by the odd request. “Depends why you want it.”

  “It’s a shot in the dark, but it would be extremely beneficial if we could study one of the nanites you ingested.”

  Her eyes widened as trepidation renewed her chills. “Do you think they’re harmful?”

  “I don’t think Arrista would have given you something harmful. The Sarronti have interacted with humans before, so she would know if their tech was incompatible with your physiology. Much can be learned by studying a culture’s technology.”

  That all made sense, so Sara nodded. “You can have the sample.”

  “Good. Now I’m not opposed to trading Alonov’s son for Heather, but there are a couple of complications.”

  “Other than Alonov having the hots for Heather?” Her voice thinned, revealing her agitation. Nothing was more important than Heather’s safety. Complications be damned.

  He glanced at Xorran, likely asking him something via the internal comlink all the Outcasts shared. The overlord didn’t react outwardly to whatever they said and his intense gaze soon returned to Sara. “If we agree to the exchange, do you still have to foster the karron?”

  Sara stroked the sleeping cub’s back, feeling insanely protective. It was no longer an obligation. She wanted to take care of Wenny. “She isn’t safe in the Underground. If Arrista hadn’t been warned what the council was planning, Wenny would be dead already.”

  “Who suggested the barter, Arrista or Isolaund?” the overlord wanted to know.

  “Arrista made the suggestion, but Isolaund immediately agreed. They both care deeply for the cats.”

  The overlord stroked his stubbly chin, expression thoughtful. “Arrista enabled you to understand their language and suggested a way for you to be freed?” He shifted his gaze back to Xorran. “Sounds like a potential ally to me.” When Xorran only nodded, the overlord asked Sara, “Do you have a way to contact Arrista?”

  She shook her head, belatedly realizing how helpful that would have been. “Arton is supposed to tell Isolaund what you decide, and the sooner the better.”

  The overlord nodded, seeming to mull over everything he’d learned. He took a couple of steps toward the door, then turned around and came back to where he’d started. “If Arrista is involved in the prisoner swap, it might be our only opportunity to recruit her.”

  Again he was focusing on all the wrong things. Rescuing Heather should be their only priority. “I think that’s going to require a longer conversation than we’d be allowed at a ‘prisoner swap’.”

  Her pessimism had no effect on the overlord. “I was thinking more along the lines of passing her a note that said, meet me tomorrow at midnight.”

  Sara just nodded. Having a contact in the enemy camp would be smart and strategic. She just wasn’t sure Arrista would become that contact. Despite her willingness to help Sara, Arrista seemed loyal to Isolaund. Rather than prolong the debate, she kept her opinions to herself.

  “My primary hesitation is the general’s son. We’re not having much luck interrogating him.” A hint of humor eased the tension from around his mouth. “It’s hard to question someone when you don’t understand a word he says. Would you be willing to work with one of our interrogators?”

  “How long will that take? I can’t stress it enough, Heather is in real danger.” Whatever information they could glean from Alonov’s son wasn’t worth what Heather would suffer if the general got his hands on her.

  “Four hours,” the overlord proposed. “If we haven’t gotten anything out of him in four hours, Arton will contact Isolaund.”

  “Two,” Sara countered stubbornly. If she didn’t champion Heather, it was obvious no one else would.

  The overlord looked at Xorran and shook his head. “You’re going to have your hands full with this one, tracker. The sooner you claim her, the better.”

  Sara gasped and snapped her gaze around to Xorran. “You’re on my list of matches?” There were seventy-two names on her list and most of them had meant nothing to her. She tried to avoid interaction with the males. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “This is the first I’ve heard about it,” Xorran objected.

  Then why didn’t he seem surprised?

  “He’s right,” the overlord told her. “Torak said you were ‘irrationally stubborn’. So I pulled you up in the matching database, thought one of your potential mates might help me negotiate. Come to find out, you’ve been with one all along.”

  “That’s not too surprising,” she muttered. “I’ve got seventy-two matches. But I was told all the males were notified.”

  Xorran didn’t seem pleased by this fact. He stared at her silently, emotion gleaming in his purple-ringed eyes.

  “Notifications were sent,” the overlord told her. “That doesn’t ensure that they’re opened.”

  The last thing she needed was an aggressive male trying to seduce her and her own hormones sabotaging her at every turn. “This is all beside the point,” Sara insisted. She carefully lifted the cub off her lap and placed her on Xorran’s uniform top. The cat stirred for a moment, then went back to sleep with a groan. Fighting to keep her lower body covered, she maneuvered her legs under her then stood. “We have to rescue Heather. I’ll help the interrogator for two hours, no longer.”

  Much to her surprise, the overlord agreed. “That should be enough time to know whether or not we’re going to get anything out of him. Especially if your mate scans the elf while he’s questioned.”

  Xorran stood as well, his features tense with displeasure. “I’m not technically empathic. My abilities—”

  “Are close enough.” Kage asserted. “If Arton digs around inside a mind, it always results in damage. Give us your best shot. That’s all I ever ask.”

  Xorran’s expression remained tight, but he didn’t object. “She needs to change clothes and relax for a while before she’s put in any more danger.”

  “I’m fine.” Sara touched his arm and looked up into his purple-ringed gaze. “Yes, I need a new uniform, but I won’t be able to relax until I know Heather is safe.”

  After a tense pause, the overlord nodded. “Put yourself back together and I’ll meet you and Xorran on the detention level of the Viper.”

  “What about Wenny?” Sara lifted her chin, warning him that she wouldn’t allow the cub to be neglected.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “And I thought Thea was the troublemaker in your cabin.” He stretched out his back and acquiesced with a chuckle. “I’m ready for a break. Xorran can escort you to the Viper and back. I’ll hang out with Wenny.” One of his dark brows arched in challenge as he added. “Will that suffice, your royal highness?”

  With an unapologetic smile, she dipped into a curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Chapter Three

  A tentative tapping drew Isolaund’s gaze toward the door separating her bedroom from the rest of her quarters. She had just retired for the night and sat on the foot of the bed, brushing out her long sliver hair. Only Arris
ta would dare to interrupt, so Isolaund called, “Make it quick. I’m not in the mood for drama.”

  The door eased open and Arrista peeked inside, her expression tense and filled with dread. “I’m so sorry, mistress, but General Alonov is here again, demanding to see you.”

  “By all that’s blessed, is Alonov daft? There is nothing he can say that can’t wait until—”

  Arrista was shoved out of the way and Alonov burst into the bedroom. “I beg to differ! Are the reports true? Did you release one of the human captives tonight?”

  Isolaund squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw. The man was a mannerless bully. “Get. Out.” She didn’t raise her voice. Instead, she infused each syllable with indignation.

  He stomped toward her.

  In an instant, Certice stood between them, teeth bared, snarling out an unmistakable warning.

  He glared at the battle cat, then turned his hostile gaze back on Isolaund. “My spies just told me one of the humans was tromping around in the forest. Is it true? Did you release the dark one?”

  “I told you I would negotiate the exchange. That’s what I’m doing. We can discuss the details in the morning or—”

  “I thought Toxyn was the fool, but his actions make more sense than yours!” He motioned toward her with such aggression that the karron snapped her jaws and growled even louder. He ignored the close call and focused on the female. “We had the upper hand. Why in all the gods’ names would you give that up?”

  “I did no such thing,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I sent a messenger, nothing more.”

  “That’s nonsense and we both know it.” Alonov’s tone was calm, but cold. “I want the red one now. I’ll see to the negotiations myself. You’re dismissed.”

  Her chin shot up, but part of her wanted to laugh. “Sorry, General. I don’t answer to you.”

  His fists balled at his sides and his nostrils flared. He glared at Certice, then sneered, “You love to forget the fact, but this little hobby of yours is a military project. With the snap of my fingers, I can reallocate your entire budget.” Without another word, he stormed from the room.

  Isolaund glared at the door through which he’d stormed. The bastard was right. When push came to shove, she worked for him. But everyone answered to the Guiding Council. And she had a closer connection to that august body than Alonov could ever claim. But would her brother help her? She sneered again. The only thing more frustrating than Alonov was those useless bureaucrats! And Indrex could be the worst of all.

  Arrista appeared in the doorway a moment later, looking flushed and rattled. “Will he return?”

  “Doubtful.” Isolaund considered the question more carefully, but still came to the same conclusion. “He was just blowing off steam.”

  “Did you hear that they arrested Toxyn?”

  Isolaund arched her brows at the news. “I hadn’t heard, but I’m not surprised. Toxyn’s misbehavior resulted in the capture of an Alonov. No one endangers a member of the Ayrontu without risking harsh punishment. Which is as it should be.” Toxyn was Ayrontu also, but his family was not nearly as revered as the Alonovs. If someone with a lower designation had committed the crime, they would have been executed on the spot. The Guiding Council might want to blur the lines between designations, but centuries of tradition didn’t change overnight.

  “Of course, Mistress.” There was a strange brittleness in Arrista’s tone that Isolaund had never heard before. Arrista had been particularly moody ever since she spent the night with Toxyn. Did the girl regret her decision to offer her body to Toxyn? Yes, Isolaund had offered Arrista as a sexual surrogate when Toxyn pressured Isolaund for sex, but she’d made sure Arrista was willing before she left them alone. She searched the girl’s tense features, then dismissed her concern. It must be something else.

  Arrista started to leave, but Isolaund stopped her. “We need to move the red-haired human. Alonov will come for her tonight and I don’t want him to find her.”

  “Of course, Mistress. Where shall I take her?”

  Isolaund thought for a moment. Alonov’s spies were everywhere, and he knew the forbidden passages even better than she did. There was only one place she knew of that would be safe from the general. “Can you find the grotto by yourself? You’ve been there several times with me.” The grotto had once been a place of worship and sacrifice to sorcerers like her mother. Many believed powerful spirts still lingered there, so most avoided the secluded chamber.

  “I believe so, mistress.”

  “Stash the human there, and I’ll work with my brother to resolve this as quickly as possible.” She hated to admit that she needed Indrex’s assistance, but there was no avoiding it now. Indrex was her only weapon against Alonov. “Make damn sure the human is securely restrained. The grotto is far too close to the surface for my liking.”

  “THEY RELEASED MY LIST of matches almost a week ago,” Sara said, her voice soft, almost sad. “Several of my suitors came forward right away. They seemed pleased and excited by the possibility of courting me.”

  Xorran tensed. If she was trying to make him jealous, she’d succeeded. “And how did you react? I was under the impression you wanted to resist us at all costs.”

  She shrugged. “I talked to the polite ones, explained my hesitation without being a jerk.”

  “Were some less than polite?” His hands clenched into fists. If anyone insulted or frightened her, he would make them regret their rudeness.

  A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I found creative ways to discourage the ones that wouldn’t listen. I’ve always found it easier to laugh than get angry.”

  He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Are you the one who dared Heftar to eat a lonfan pepper?”

  Another shrug lifted her shoulders. “He was downright obnoxious. I refuse to regret how I handled that situation.”

  Hearing about Heftar’s humiliation had made Xorran laugh, so he couldn’t really chastise her. Heftar was known to be overly aggressive, even a bully. Doubtlessly he had earned the discomfort her prank had caused him. Xorran was pleased to know his potential mate had creative ways of dealing with such males.

  “Why didn’t you open your message?”

  Her tone was tinged with disappointment, so Xorran looked at her. He’d hoped to read her expression, but her face was averted. “I’ve been extremely busy. Now that everyone knows I’m a tracker, requests for my time are endless.”

  “Then how did you know we were compatible?”

  Following her example, he kept his gaze fixed on the wide riverbank as they walked along in the moonlight. “I sensed your fear more clearly than I’ve ever felt anything in my life.” Her emotions hadn’t reached him since. Still, he wasn’t sure if she was really as calm as she seemed. He refused to invade her mind to satisfy his curiosity. “Once I was near you, it didn’t take long to figure out why your emotions found me so easily.”

  She finally looked at him, big dark eyes luminous in the dimness. “But we aren’t bonded. I thought the mind link is what allows couples to exchange thoughts and emotions.”

  For so long he’d been endangered by his abilities. It still felt strange to discuss them openly. “I’m mildly empathic. Tracking, in the Bilarrian sense of the word, is a specialized form of empathy. And empathy is always most effective with blood relatives and mates, or potential mates.”

  “I see,” she whispered and averted her gaze again.

  “Why does that make you uncomfortable?” He didn’t smell arousal on her yet, though her natural scent was sure as hells affecting him. She wasn’t oblivious to him either. He’d caught her gaze moving over his bare torso more than once. Still, the pull didn’t usually engage for the female until the couple kissed. And gods how he wanted to kiss her, to bury both hands in her hair and slowly taste her sweet mouth.

  “You already have access to your magic,” she pointed out. “Why saddle yourself with a mate for the rest of your life?”

&nbs
p; Stunned by her casual words, he stopped walking and faced her. Gaining access to their magic was an important factor in why battle born males wanted to bond with human females. Like most of the Outcasts, Xorran’s mother had been a war bride, the Bilarrian captive of his Rodyte father. For several generations war brides had been forced to bear the children of their Rodyte captors in the hopes that the child, or children, would inherit their mother’s magic. Daughters often manifested faded echoes of their mother’s power, while sons were usually born latent. The practice of taking war brides had been outlawed, but that didn’t keep the battle born males from searching for ways to access their full potential.

  After many years of failure, a group of ambitious geneticists found a way to trigger the needed changes. By using the natural metamorphosis that occurred during mating as a delivery mechanism, the hybrid genome was much more likely to accept the necessary recoding. The final ingredient in the complex recipe was human females. Humans were resilient and tolerated genetic resequencing better than most species, so the scientists focused on tailoring the transformation program for a Rodyte hybrid male and human female.

  Still, accessing their magic was one motivation among many. Outcasts, and their battle born comrades, longed for the stability and comfort of a soul bond. They wanted a loving female beside them as they built a future free of prejudice and violence. They wanted someone to love and protect, to share every new experience. Did none of that appeal to her? At some point in the not too distant past she must have been attracted to the concept. Why else would she have volunteered to bond with a battle born rebel?

  “Is that how you see soul bonding? A ‘saddle’? Something unwanted and cumbersome?”

  “I don’t know.” She glanced into his eyes then quickly away. “The closest thing to soul bonding on Earth is marriage and I’ve never known anyone who could make that work. My parents hung on for thirty-one years and then had one of the nastiest divorces I’ve ever witnessed. It was ridiculous how horribly they turned on each other.” Her voice softened, became wistful as she added, “It was also really sad.”