by Lisa Shearin
“Whatsoever. Just more of you.” In the firelight, his eyes had darkened to the blue of ocean depths. “And I think that’s a very good thing.”
Protecting Mychael from the Saghred was an even better thing. The stone’s presence had been like a weight behind my breastbone since it’d bonded itself to me. I didn’t know if it was Mychael’s healing, the Reapers’ attack, or something else entirely, but right now I had no sense of the Saghred at all.
If I was going to do this, I needed to do it now. My pulse quickened at the thought of what I was about to attempt. No, not attempt. Do. I didn’t know how it would affect me, but I wanted to do this for him.
Mychael noticed a burn remaining on my right shoulder. He reached out once again, to touch me, to heal.
I caught his hand in mine, quickly curling my fingers through his. The power he held in readiness to heal me thrummed through my skin and raced up my arm and into my body. I gasped with the sheer strength of it. I took one deep breath, then another, holding his magic tightly inside of me as my own awakened and responded, spiraling upward from the deep core of me where it ran like molten heat.
Mychael knew what was happening and tried to pull his hand away, but our magic had already fused us.
“Raine, no.” Mychael’s voice said no arguments.
For once I wasn’t going to argue with him.
I was going to heal him.
“I can’t do them all, but I can do one.”
“Raine, you’re not—”
I gave him a small smile, confident and sure. “I’m stronger than you think.” My voice dropped to an intense whisper. “Mychael, please let me do this for you. Your knowledge, our magic. I don’t want you hurt because of me any more.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I placed my hand on his neck, my palm flat against his pulse point. Our combined power surged out of me and into him, and now it was Mychael’s turn to gasp.
I felt the burn beneath my hand—not just felt it; I became a part of it, flowing down through the layers of damaged skin and muscle, the touch of my hand absorbing the heat and pain, and sending cool, healing magic in its place.
Mychael’s strength, my will. Our magic.
But it didn’t stop there. The power that coursed through me into Mychael surged through him and slammed back into me. Hard. The flow of magic was like water released from a dam, barely controlled. It picked up speed as it went from me into Mychael and back again, a breath-stealing, stomach-clenching cyclone of power.
As quickly as it caught us up in its current, the magic slowed, receded, then left us both in a cool rush. I kept my fingers clenched through his until the last tremors of magic between us faded. I didn’t think I could have let go even if I’d wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
Mychael’s hand dropped from mine and I fell back against the pillows. Mychael was leaning against the bed’s headboard. Both of us were breathing heavily, but I didn’t feel exhausted, not in the least. I was exhilarated.
Mychael looked at me and laughed low in his throat. “I would ask if you’re all right, but it’s obvious that you are.”
I was a little light-headed, but in a very good way. I glanced at his throat. The burn was gone. My eyes were drawn down to his chest. Smoothly sculpted and muscled—and no trace of the burns that had marred it minutes before.
“The burn on your shoulder is gone,” Mychael noted.
“We do good work,” I managed between pants.
“You shouldn’t have risked that.”
“I wanted to.”
He hesitated, not quite sure how to respond. “Thank you.” “My pleasure.”
His eyes gleamed. “I can tell.”
There were two polite taps on the door.
“That would be breakfast.” Mychael took a shuddering breath and blew it out, then he laughed, warm and deep. “Let’s see if my legs will hold me up long enough to get to the door.”
Mychael rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the door. From what I could see, his long, leanly muscled legs were holding him up just fine. He wasn’t naked, though with what little he was wearing, he may as well have been. Silken sleep pants were tied low on his hips, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
He opened the door and accepted a tray from someone on the other side, and exchanged a few words, their murmurs too quiet for me to make out what they were saying. Mychael had brought me back from death, and if that coffee was as strong as it smelled, it’d bring me the rest of the way back to life and beyond. Though I didn’t know how it could possibly improve on how I felt right now. When my nose told me what was on that tray, my stomach growled in approval.
Mychael stood over me, his eyes sparkling. “So you’ve worked up an appetite, too.”
I flashed a grin. “I think I can put a respectable dint in whatever the kitchen sent up.” I sat up and the sheet fell down.
Oh crap, my nipples were hard. It was the cold air, definitely the cold air, though Mychael wouldn’t believe that; he’d probably think that I . . . because he was . . . because we had . . . Dammit.
I sighed and just left the sheet where it was. No use bothering now. “You wouldn’t happen to have something I could wear, would you?”
Mychael winked and sat the tray down across my lap. “Got just the thing.” The silk sleep shirt he retrieved from the back of a chair was the match to the pants he was wearing. He held the tray while I put it on.
I buttoned the shirt. “Perfect.”
Mychael grinned crookedly. “Now you can eat, retain your modesty, and prevent any cold-related . . . issues.”
I tucked the sheet around my waist, and lifted the cover off one of the two plates on the tray. There were eggs, bacon, cheese, fried potatoes, bread, and butter. “And my appetite would like to thank you in advance. How did you know when to have food brought?”
“I asked that it be brought in ten hours.”
I stopped with a fork of eggs halfway to my open mouth. “We’ve been in bed together for ten hours?”
“The minimal length of time for healing injuries as severe as yours is seven hours. I allowed another three for sleep for both of us.”
Meaning I’d been naked in Mychael’s arms for ten hours—and during seven of those hours, his hands had been all over me.
Since that image struck me pretty much speechless, I stuffed a forkful of eggs in my mouth.
Mychael pulled the nightstand over next to him and put the second plate on it. He had the same breakfast as mine and dug in with gusto. I imagine healing a naked woman all night and half the morning combined with what we had just done would give a man one hell of an appetite.
Mychael scowled at me between bites. “I know the answer I’m going to get, but I have to ask. What possessed you to throw yourself into a nest of Reapers?”
“Those things went after Dad. I—”
“A man who has been protecting himself against Reapers for centuries. Your father’s had plenty of practice. You, on the other hand, have not.”
I stopped chewing, and the fire crackled in the silence.
“So I tried to save someone who didn’t need saving,” I finally said.
“Someone who was trying to save you. That you’re still alive after what you did is nothing short of a miracle.”
I just stared at him. He didn’t know. If he couldn’t see Reapers, that meant he didn’t see the souls that tore their way out of the Saghred through me.
“Mychael, when I started screaming . . . did you see what was happening?”
“You were surrounded by Reapers.”
“You could see them?”
“No, but I could sense them.”
I took a breath and slowly let it out. “Mychael, four souls from inside the Saghred . . .” I stopped, my food suddenly like a rock in my stomach. “They came out of me and went into a Reaper.”
Mychael froze. “The Reapers took them out of you?”
I shook my head. “No, the souls wanted to go. They we
re . . .” I fought down the sensation that I’d felt, could still feel. “Squirming inside of me. They wanted to get out. They ripped their way out; it was like someone grabbed a handful of my guts and pulled.” I put my fork down, and made myself take another breath. “When they were out, the Reapers took them. I couldn’t stop them from going or the Reapers from taking.”
“Vidor Kalta told me he’d seen something moving between you and the Reapers, but he didn’t know what it was.”
Fear seized me as I remembered Kalta looking at my dad, recognizing what he was, what he’d been. “Kalta knows about Dad.”
“Vidor is the finest nachtmagus I know; I fully expected him to know your father for what he is.”
“You don’t sound concerned.”
“And you shouldn’t be, either. I’ve spoken with Vidor and he understands the need for discretion.”
“You trust him?”
“Without hesitation. Your father and Vidor are fine; you however are not. I’ve had Vidor ward this room against Reapers. There’s nothing strong enough to keep them out, but Vidor’s discouraged them. Just because you appear to be healed doesn’t mean that you are. You need sleep. I don’t want you leaving this bed for at least the next day, and this room until I have located and dealt with Sarad Nukpana.”
I sat up, sloshing coffee on the tray. “Not without me, you don’t.”
“Raine, you’re hardly in any condition—”
“Neither are you.”
“I wasn’t the one buried in Reapers.”
“You heard Nukpana; he wants me last. For the first time in my life, I have a dad.” My voice caught. “I never knew my mother. I’m not going to lose him.” I felt the sudden sting of tears in my eyes. “And I’m not going to lose anyone else I care about, either. Sarad Nukpana won’t stop until he takes every person I love. He said it, and I believe him. I will not lie here in this bed while that happens.”
“He won’t act on that threat immediately,” Mychael assured me. “Remember what Vidor said? After Nukpana fully absorbs the life force he got from General Aratus, he’ll become incorporeal again.”
“Meaning not solid.”
“Exactly. Nukpana will want to build up his power before he comes after one of us. He can’t risk failure. He’s issued his challenge; he’s knows we’re hunting him. He won’t act openly until he’s strong enough.”
“Which means there’s going to be more bodies,” I said, a lump of dread sticking in my throat. “Or ‘gifts,’ as Nukpana calls them.”
Mychael nodded grimly. “Magically powerful victims, probably with nothing less than mage-level talents. I’ve made Justinius aware of the danger to our senior mages. Whether they take the threat seriously is another matter. Our more powerful mages are known for thinking themselves invulnerable to attacks of any kind.”
I snorted. “If Sarad Nukpana gets hold of one of them, their thinking days are over.”
“True.”
“If we don’t stop Nukpana soon, no one will have enough power to stop him.”
“Except you, Raine,” Mychael said quietly.
“You mean the Saghred.”
“You and the Saghred are essentially one and the same.” Mychael’s eyes were intent on mine. “The Reapers know that and so does Sarad Nukpana. If he were to take you, he wouldn’t just have you; he would have the Saghred’s power.”
I knew what Mychael meant, and it scared me more than anything had ever scared me before. If Sarad Nukpana absorbed the life force, knowledge, and magic of enough mages, he would be unstoppable.
And if he took me and the Saghred, Sarad Nukpana would be a dark demigod with the world at his mercy.
So much for my appetite.
Chapter 5
When I woke up, Mychael had already gone, and I was determined to be dressed and out of here in half an hour.
I had to find Piaras.
Piaras’s last name was Rivalin, not Benares, and we weren’t related by anyone, anywhere; but I loved the kid like a little brother, so in my book, that made him family.
Family that I knew was near the top of Sarad Nukpana’s kill list.
Piaras needed to know it and I needed to assure myself that he was safe.
I was two steps away from the bed when I remembered that the Reapers had shredded the hell out of my clothes. Damn. Well, I’d help myself to Mychael’s wardrobe. I just needed to get out of here, not make a fashion statement.
Then I spotted a familiar duffel bag leaning against his desk, and the shoulder harness holding my brace of swords was hooked over the back of Mychael’s chair. I grinned. If Mychael had wanted to keep me here, he’d just made a grave tactical error. For the past two weeks, I had been staying on the Fortune, so Phaelan must have sent along a few things, and Mychael had left them for me. An intricate knot tied the canvas bag closed. Definitely Phaelan’s work. He did it to let me know that he’d packed my bag himself, and that the knot was still intact told me Mychael hadn’t gone snooping. Good. If there was one thing my cousin knew how to do, it was pack for a quick getaway—or a jailbreak. No doubt everything I needed to get out of Mychael’s bedroom, his apartment, and the citadel was in that bag. Phaelan liked to be thorough.
I opened the bag. My set of midnight blue leathers was on top: boots, trousers, and doublet. Two shirts were below that, and then the contents got fun: various small and easily concealable weapons, lock picks, and even a small grappling hook and rope. He tossed in the latter I guess in case I felt the need to go over the wall.
I left the grappling hook but took everything else. I had no intention of going over the wall. Piaras was a Guardian cadet; he was in the citadel.
But before I could step one foot into the hallway, I had to negotiate my release with the Guardian on duty at the door.
I knew that would be Vegard.
When I was dressed and armed to my satisfaction, I went to the door and tried the knob. Surprisingly it was unlocked. I opened the door. Not surprisingly, the space on the other side was filled with a big, blond, overprotective Guardian.
“Afternoon, Vegard.”
My bodyguard nodded once. “Ma’am. Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”
I glanced down the hall. There were two burly Guardians at the other end. Not an easy escape scenario, but I could get past them if necessary.
I knew the drill. Mychael had ordered Vegard to keep me here. When confronted with familiar tactics, go with the direct approach. If that didn’t work, then I’d come up with something sneaky.
“I’m plenty rested,” I told him. “Where’s Piaras?”
“It’s two bells; he’s finished his morning lessons, so he should be in the gym.” Vegard looked at me with a combination of concern and guilt, but mostly guilt. I knew he felt responsible for what had happened to me. When would everyone accept that my own trouble was my own fault?
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Really.”
His expression was carefully neutral. “I’m glad to hear that, ma’am.”
“Vegard?”
“Ma’am?”
“What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. Yes, you’re my bodyguard, but I’m a big girl with a mind of my own . . . a stubborn mind of my own.”
At least that made him smile a little. “Yes, ma’am, you are. You’re also my responsibility, and—”
“Vegard, I—”
“Ma’am, please let me finish.”
I shut up. Yes, it’s possible.
Vegard’s pale blue eyes were steady. “If you had been killed, I would have never forgiven myself. It’s my job to keep you not only alive, but safe. It’s become more than my job.” He clenched his jaw and looked away, but not before I saw a faint glisten in his eyes.
Way to go, Raine. You’re about to make a grown Guardian cry. Maybe I should have taken the grappling hook and gone out the window.
“If someone kills you, they might as well cut a big chunk out of me while they’re at it.�
� His words came in a rush. “Or hell, just finish me off. I don’t have a sister, but I’d like to think if I did, she’d be like you.”
Oh great, now I was going to cry.
I laid my hand on his forearm. “Okay, Vegard, I’ll make you a deal. At least I’ll try really hard. I can try to stay away from trouble, but trouble’s not going to stay away from me.”
“I know.”
“Actually, trouble’s chasing me right now, a lot of it. Hell, there’s a line.”
“I know that, too. But ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“All I ask is that you let me be at your side when it catches up to you.”
I squeezed his arm and bit my lip against my own case of the misties. Vegard gently covered my hand with his huge paw.
“Deal,” I managed. “If it’s in my control, you’ll be with me. We’ll get slaughtered together.”
He grinned. “A man can’t ask for more than that.”
“Now, which way is the gym?”
The grim Guardian was back in spades. “Oh no, you don’t, ma’am. The boss told me you weren’t supposed to leave this room until he came back.”
“Where is he?”
“Meeting with the archmagus.”
“And when will he be back?”
“Since it’s with the old man there’s no telling.”
“That’s what I thought. Vegard, the gym is in the citadel. Mychael has deemed the citadel safe for me. Isn’t the gym filled with Guardians working out with weapons?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He knew his argument was crumbling faster than a Nebian trader’s morals.
“Then how much safer could I be? I need to talk to Piaras. I’m not the only one in danger.”
The big Guardian sighed in defeat. “Follow me, ma’am.”
I smiled up at him and linked my arm in his. “How about at my side?”
Piaras was a Conclave Guardian cadet. He’d go from cadet to squire, and eventually be knighted as a full Guardian. And from the way he was going, the kid would probably set a speed record for achieving knighthood.
Before the Guardians accepted a young man into the brotherhood for training, they assessed his skills—both martial and magical. They had to have both. When it came to future Guardians, those skills covered a lot of unusual ground.