Galena took the stairs down the main foyer as fast as she dared, her footsteps as frantic as her heart’s rhythm. Brenna wasn’t anywhere. She’d searched every guest room, scoured the living areas, and even checked the royal wing. Not one worker had seen any unfamiliar women up and about.
“Praise the Great One, Lena. Are those yesterday’s clothes?” Orla stood beside a castle maid, a checklist in her hand and a frown on her face. “You’ve got more wrinkles on you than I have on my forehead.”
“Now’s a bad time, Orla.” Galena strode to the soaring window overlooking the entry gardens. Empty, not a single soul wandering the well-tended paths, at least not from what she could see at this angle. “Have either of you seen Brenna?”
“Is she awake?” Orla joined her at the window.
“I hope so.” Galena glanced over her shoulder. No sounds filtered from the dining room or receiving room, and no guards roamed the halls. “If not, we’ve got problems because she’s gone.”
Orla’s eyebrows rose. She held out her tablet to the castle maid. “Wait for me in the kitchens. Not a word to anyone until I tell you otherwise.”
The woman scurried off, her long skirts swishing with each step.
Orla lowered her voice. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“I mean I went to check on her and her bed was empty.”
“Maybe she’s just looking—”
“I’ve looked everywhere. The guest wing, the rooms down here, the royal wing. If she’s inside the castle, she’s huddled tight.” From the foyer all she could see were the garden’s white sand paths up front. She’d have to walk the garden if she wanted to be sure Brenna wasn’t there.
“You think someone’s taken her?”
Galena swallowed. “I don’t know what to think. Maxis took Lexi. What if he wanted his property back?” She shook her head. “The things he did to her were horrid.”
“We need to alert the guards, Jagger at least.”
“No.” Galena gripped Orla’s shoulder. “The last thing Brenna needs to see is a man bearing down on her, let alone one of our warriors.”
Orla scowled, the tiny age lines around her mouth making the movement even more pronounced. “I don’t like it, Lena. If the castle’s been breached—”
“Thirty minutes. Thirty more minutes and I’ll find Jagger and tell him myself. If you help me and we split up we can cover more ground.”
Hands planted at her hips, Orla let out a huff. “All right, thirty minutes. I’ll get Jilly to help too, but we meet back here and stay in constant contact, agreed?”
Galena opened the front doors with her mind, and the warm afternoon air rushed against her face. “You two search the house. I’m checking the gardens.”
“Galena.”
Orla’s voice stopped her mid-stride.
“Constant contact every five minutes or I’m contacting Eryx myself. I don’t like the way this feels. Not one bit.” Orla white-knuckled the stair rail. “You may not be my blood, but you’re still my baby girl.”
Galena’s heart and breath hitched. For all the high expectations Orla may have had for her through the years, she’d also nurtured and held her when no one else would. “I’ll be fine. Just help me find her.” She turned away before Orla could say anything else, the fear in her former nanny’s demeanor more than she could process right now. It couldn’t be Maxis. The guards posted at the castle since Lexi’s kidnapping were elite, loyal to the core. Even those she’d known since childhood underwent regular screenings now, their memories constantly scrutinized for signs of treason.
Opening her senses, she hurried through the labyrinth paths, carefully combing the sections with tall grass and hip-height flowers. She might not be as skilled as her brothers in detection, but she could at least reach a good twenty to thirty foot perimeter. Even if her senses didn’t lead her to Brenna, a little early warning system wouldn’t hurt if Maxis had more people on the grounds.
The paths ended on the east side of the house. Nothing but workers and warriors wandered near the castle. Vibrant green grass with silver sparks stretched in a slow downward slope to her left, and the evergreen and indigo forest beyond it looked more like puffs of bold color than actual foliage. Surely Brenna hadn’t made it that far. She might have been fully healed physically, but with no more than forced broth and water for nourishment, she had to be weak. Too weak to make the forest on foot.
To Galena’s right, the iron gate and stone wall surrounding the private Shantos oasis stretched twelve feet tall, impossible to breach for a feeble human.
She let out a frustrated breath and closed her eyes. Wind gusted against her face and briny ocean air filled her lungs. The tiny hairs at her nape tickled her skin. If she was Brenna and she woke up alone in a strange place after years as a prisoner, where would she go?
Galena opened her eyes. She’d run, as far and as fast as her legs could take her.
Ahead, the bluff stretched in a crescent shape. A three-foot sandstone wall sat ten feet back from the ledge, more to prevent unintended falls than any type of access deterrent. The sea tossed below and slammed its waves against the white beaches and black lava-like cove walls.
An ugly weight built inside Galena, mushrooming out to plunk heavy in her stomach. Not the bluff. Praise the Great One, not the bluff.
She hurried forward, then ran.
Orla’s voice sounded in her head, fear resonating loud and clear. “Galena?”
Galena didn’t stop, taking to the air to cover more ground. “I’m fine, but haven’t found her. Anything on your end?”
“Nothing yet.”
Galena dropped the connection without another thought, her focus too honed on the ground below. She finished one half of the cove’s arc and circled back for the other. Maybe it was time to call the men. If Brenna made the forest, waiting would only make the search more difficult.
A flutter of white flashed, a tiny flicker along the rock wall near the gate.
Galena landed, keeping her distance so as not to startle. Her pulse hammered at her neck. The ocean’s push and pull turned deafening, and the wind frayed her nerves. She edged forward and the breath in her lungs left in a rush.
Brenna sat wedged in a small offset between the fence and the gatepost, knees tucked in tight with her forehead resting on top.
“Brenna.”
The girl’s head whipped up and she squeaked.
“It’s okay.” Galena knelt beside her and the ocean-damp grass seeped through her cotton leggings. “You’re safe. My name’s Galena. I’m a friend of Lexi. Do you remember her?”
Such soulful eyes, so dark they bordered on black, a perfect match to the twin braids on either side of her head. Tears streaked her face, and her nose and cheeks bloomed a splotchy red. Her voice eked out, scratchy and broken. “The woman from Master’s home?”
“Maxis, you mean?”
Brenna shivered, pulled her knees in tighter, and bobbed her head.
“Yes, that’s Lexi. She’d very much like to see you. Would you come with me so we can let her know you’re all right?”
“She’s okay?”
“She’s perfectly fine. Do you remember what happened?”
Brenna stared at the ocean, her gaze distant. “The man with the gun. He aimed it at her.”
“He did, but Lexi’s fine.” Galena hesitated. “You saved her, Brenna. The bullet hit you instead.”
Looking down, Brenna felt her shoulder, her work-hardened fingertips snagging on the soft cotton sheath they’d dressed her in. Her nails were short and jagged. “I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s because Eryx healed you.”
She rubbed the exact spot the bullet hit, the heel of her hand pressing deep. Her lower lip trembled. “Why would he do that?”
A slow, steady ache blossomed. She was so damned young, twenty-two or twenty-three at most given her body’s composition, yet her voice wavered with the weight of an e
lder. “Because you’re worth saving.”
Tears welled in Brenna’s eyes, but she dropped her forehead back to her knees before they could fall.
Galena eased closer. Laying a hand on one shoulder, she sent her calming energy through the girl. “You’re safe now, Brenna. Nothing can hurt you here. All you need to do is rest and heal.”
“I want to go home.” Brenna sniffled and lifted her head. “I want to see my family.”
Avoidance wasn’t Galena’s strong suit, at least not outside her personal life. Her feelings for Reese she could avoid all day long, but in this situation, a diversion seemed almost necessary. “Let’s go back to the castle. You need to eat and we can get you some dry clothes.”
Brenna shook her head and swiped one cheek with her shoulder. “I like it here.”
“By the ocean?”
Brenna nodded.
“Did you live near the water where you grew up?”
“We lived in Texas, but my parents took me to a place like this.” Her voice cracked at the end and her lips locked up tight. “It wasn’t as pretty as this, but it was nice. The next day we went to Disney World. That’s where Maxis snatched me.”
Galena kept her silence and rubbed Brenna’s back, pushing calming energy into her quivering muscles.
Brenna’s gaze sharpened and her voice firmed. “I want to go home.”
A placating lie rose to Galena’s lips, but she swallowed it. Too many wrongs had been thrust on this sweet girl for her to add any more. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Brenna. We can’t take you home.”
* * * *
A noise echoed over and over in Maxis’ head, short on the upswing, long and winded on the way down. With every repetition his chest burned and tiny zaps scampered along his rib cage.
No, it wasn’t a noise, it was him breathing, each push and pull far too labored and shallow.
Serena’s voice echoed as though it came from a tunnel. “Maxis?” Her peppermint breath fluttered against his face, and smooth cool skin skated against the back of his hand at this side. “Open your eyes.”
He pried open his eyes and tried to turn his head. Fiery jolts shot through every nerve from his neck to his fingers and toes, and his lungs seized on a strangled moan.
“Uther.” Serena disappeared from his line of sight, her near-white hair flying out behind her. “Uther he’s awake.”
Whitewashed walls stretched twenty or so feet, a wide window at its center with thick navy curtains pulled tight.
Bootheels struck wood-planked floors, heavy, but not hurried.
Uther rounded the bed. Had it not been for the dark circles under the man’s eyes, Maxis would have almost bought his careless facade.
His throat was too dry for more than a croak. “Where.”
Uther raised a negligent hand and a utilitarian tan club chair slid into view. He settled himself, resting one ankle over his knee. “You’re at my homestead in the Underlands.”
Serena cupped the back of Maxis’ neck, lifted him, and pressed a glass against his lower lip. “Drink.”
Cool water rushed across his parched tongue. He swallowed and nearly choked, sputtering as he fought the liquid’s sweet sting.
“Smaller sips first.” She backed the glass away and gave him a chance to settle. “You’ve been out almost twenty-four hours. You need fluids.”
Maxis tried again, more successful the second time, though painful darts shot down his spine. “No one lives in the Underlands.” His ragged-old-man-ish voice sent him back for another drink.
Uther shrugged. “I do. At the border of Asshur, anyway. Far enough out to avoid guests.” He assessed Maxis’ prone position. “All things considered, I didn’t think you’d want witnesses. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Serena eased his head to the pillow and the pain dulled to a steady throb.
“What happened?” Maxis aimed the question at Serena.
Uther answered. “We were hopin’ you’d tell us.”
An impotent rage billowed through him, his useless body preventing even the tiniest outlet for his emotion. “Reese.” He coughed and a fresh shockwave rattled his torso. “He’s still alive. I found him and others around the cave and attacked.”
“Attacked how?” Serena settled on the bed beside him, her head slanted at a wary angle.
Fuck. The pain was making him sloppy. “A gift. A protective measure I hold with those I share a link with.”
Uther leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Looks like Reese fought back.”
No, not just Reese, but Maxis wasn’t going to share that with these two. Reese and whoever was with him might have found a way to fight it, but he wasn’t stupid enough to pass such info around. He needed what links he had to keep the people around him in line.
“I was midair when he struck.” Maxis closed his eyes and let out a ragged exhale. “How bad’s the damage?”
The cushions from Uther’s chair groaned. His heavy footsteps sounded around his bed, and up on his right. “Bad. I stabilized you, but I’m no healer. Neither is Serena.”
“Then get one.” He’d meant it as a roar, but all he got was a garbled croak and fresh torture.
“Not thinking that’s wise,” Uther said. “Any healer who gets their hands on you gets a long, clear look at your memories. You sure you want that?”
Maxis opened his eyes. Freshly whitewashed boards stared back at him. If Uther had healed him, he’d had the same uninhibited access as a healer.
The son of a bitch towered in Maxis’ periphery. “Didn’t think so.”
Maxis let out a slow breath and experimented with moving his feet. “What have you heard? Any news?”
“Not yet,” Uther said. “Men are on lockdown at the camp. Wanted to wait until you were stable before I headed out.”
Serena fidgeted at his side. “I could go.” She straightened the blanket stretched across his bare chest, his family mark on her arm sinister in the room’s dim light. “You heard the kind of man my father is. He’ll know the latest.” She glanced between him and Uther and shrugged, though something about the move seemed off. “I’ll go, grab a few things, and pretend I’m headed somewhere else.”
“That wasn’t the plan.” A fierceness he couldn’t quite identify spread through him. “Your father’s an ass. When you go, you’ll go with me.”
Scowling, she pushed to her feet. “I’ve handled my father fine this long, and it’s not as if you’re in any shape to stop me.” She strode toward the bedroom door.
“Serena,” Maxis said.
She kept going.
Uther intercepted and grabbed her by the arm.
It took everything he had to twist his head to see her. The scorpion he’d marked her with stretched along her forearm, as fierce as the woman who bore it. “Take Uther with you and cover your mark.”
Chapter 17
Reese flew toward the morning horizon, eyes stinging from the wind’s bite and lack of sleep. The grass below shimmered from rains the night before. The moist air left a damp sheen on his bare arms and his cotton tank clung to his chest.
He landed just outside a ring of Lyrita trees. Their smooth chocolate trunks reached toward the morning’s bright pink skyline topped by exotic pearl blooms the size of his fist. All night he’d thought about his actions, what steps should be the first in his new lease on life. Most had steered toward Galena, a drive he wasn’t sure he could define or explain shoving him toward actions that scared the hell out of him. But the one he was about to take took terror to a whole new level.
The Lyritas lined a quarter-mile arch and protected a quiet clearing in the valley’s center. He’d lost count of the times he’d been here, every one of them with Ramsay, his old friend’s go-to place for natxu. Now, here he was again, ready to atone for the wrongs he’d dealt his friend in the name of pride, even it was a fool’s errand.
He trudged through the trees, and the morning breeze brus
hed his bared arms and neck. The contact on his arms was one thing, but the sensation on the back of his neck was something altogether intimate. He’d never bound his hair before. Not that he had a justifiable reason to bind it today. In truth, the timing was rotten because Ramsay certainly wouldn’t miss such a detail. No Myren man would. But he was done with half-truths and deception. It might take months, even years to earn Galena’s attention, but he’d make his intentions clear from the start.
A blue larken swooped from its perch with a happy chirp, its wings tipped with lavender.
Reese’s soft steps echoed through the forest, a delicate schlip where his boots met wet turf.
The rising sun filtered through the trees ahead. Another thirty or so steps and he’d know if his trip was a wasted one. Adrenaline pricked beneath his skin. He was stupid to get himself worked up, melodramatic and highly assumptive. For all he knew, Ramsay didn’t even use this place for training anymore.
Twenty feet away from the clearing, he levitated two hand spans from the ground and drifted forward, more out of respect than secrecy. He’d timed his arrival to catch Ramsay at the end of natxu, not interrupt mid-drill. No point in starting off on the wrong foot.
A fat shaft of sunlight crested the treetops on the far side of the glade as Reese stepped into the clearing.
Shit.
Ramsay faced away from him, a towel around his neck and head rolling side to side as if to loosen up for a fight. “A rhino would’ve stomped through there quieter.”
So much for not starting off on the wrong foot. “Stealth wasn’t the point.”
Ramsay turned, scooped his drast off the ground, and strode toward Reese. “You got balls coming here.” He stopped at punching distance, hands loose at his sides. Only an idiot missed such a clue. Ramsay’s stance wasn’t about attitude, it was about a man pissed off and ready to throw a jab at the first provocation. “Someone better be dead or planning an attack.” He paused long enough to scrutinize Reese’s bound hair. “Better sure as hell not be about anything else.”
“I’m here because I owe you something.”
Ramsay scoffed and walked the opposite direction. “You don’t owe me shit.”
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