Bloodflower

by K. J. Harrowick

Agnar bolted.

  Jàden tightened her legs to hang on. She tried pulling on the reins, but he dropped his head and charged.

  Fire and metal rained down behind them, igniting the web threads. Shadows scuttled everywhere she turned, and her heart pounded so hard she had to bite back a scream of terror.

  Jon’s instincts were right.

  If they’d waited, they’d all be buried under raining metal and a blaze quickly spreading from one tree to another.

  “Slow down, Agnar!” She tried to watch for more webbing as she gripped the reins and leaned all her weight backwards, but he shook his head and reared, hopping sideways before all four hooves hit the sand and he bolted.

  He was going to get them both killed if he didn’t slow down.

  Agnar raced under a large branch, and she threw herself against his neck, the foliage scraping along her back.

  “Dammit, Agnar!” She glanced behind her, but the others were scattered, wrangling their horses around the roots with their weapons out. She had to get back and help, but the Flame’s white light surged in her veins.

  She couldn’t unleash it. Not without condemning them all.

  Agnar plunged around a curve in the road and ran until his sides heaved and foam licked up his neck. Cut off from the others, she dropped the reins and gripped her fists tight to force back the Flame’s consuming power.

  The stallion hopped sideways several times to slow himself then dead-stopped in the middle of the road.

  Jàden leaned her head against his neck as they both panted heavily. “I thought nothing spooked you.”

  Yet as soon as she said it, she stretched to the side, a long string of drool hanging out of Agnar’s mouth.

  Shit.

  He was in pain. The stallion had been a little moody the last few days on the ship, and she’d figured it had to do with being cooped up. “That bit must be hurting you.”

  He’s your horse now, Mather’s voice whispered into her thoughts.

  She was all alone, cut off from the others, though their shouts filtered through the trees.

  Jàden dropped to the ground, grabbed Agnar’s bridle and trotted him off the road, the trees so silent it sent a warning straight up her spine. Hiding just out of sight, she untied the blanket and wrapped the rope around Agnar’s neck.

  “No more running. Let’s get this thing off you.”

  She unbuckled the bridle and pulled it off his head, fiddling with the bit to unhook it.

  A family of otters poked their heads out of the brush, watching her intently.

  Or maybe they were shifters too.

  She edged back, wrapping her hands around the leather strips to hold them like a weapon. Could be just animals, but she’d done enough animal behavior classes to sense that something was off.

  The otters melted together into a man with muddy blond hair and a bow strung across his back. His clothes the same brown as his otter fur, intent gray eyes held her in place. He stood from the brush, his words in perfect common speech. “I won’t harm you.”

  Hàlon’s language from the mouth of a Sandarin. He said the same words again in the local tongue and stepped closer.

  Agnar laid his ears flat and tossed his head at the stranger as she gripped the bridle tighter. As the man stepped closer, she swung the metal bit, but the stranger caught her wrist.

  He tugged down the make-shift mask across her face, his eyes tracing over her features. “Jàden. You’re alive.”

  “You know me.” Her chest tightened, the man’s words in flawless common as if he’d grown up on Hàlon. No, this couldn’t be right. It had to be another one of Frank’s ploys. “Who are you?”

  Jon and the others’ shouts drew closer.

  “I’ll find you again,” he whispered so close to her ear that the hair on his chin prickled her skin. Releasing her wrist, he melted into a pile of otters and scurried into the bushes.

  Every hair on Jàden’s neck stood straight as a presence whispered across her shoulder.

  Theryn’s usually jovial features were hard and focused as he stepped beside her, a cut across his eye. He pulled a feathered arrow shaft next to his cheek, tightening the tension on his bow. “Back to your horse.”

  “Don’t shoot him.” The man hadn’t tried to harm her and he’d known her real name and language. Maybe another hypersleeper like her.

  “We’d be dead if I did.” Theryn glanced around the trees then eased the tension on his arrow. “He’s not alone.”

  The stranger emerged deeper in the trees and climbed to a low branch covered in ivy. The vines slid together until a blond woman crouched beside him, whispering in his ear.

  “See?” Theryn muttered. “Not alone.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Jon barked as the others caught up.

  Jàden tugged the strip of cloth back over her mouth. Looping the bridle on her arm, she climbed in the saddle and gripped Agnar’s mane hairs.

  “You don’t stop. Keep riding.” Blood splattered Jon’s cheek, and the anger in his voice gutted her. Kale had spoken to her like that once, as if she were under his command and better start following orders.

  She hated it then, and she hated it now. Not even the fire in her gut could quench her irritation. “Yes, Captain.”

  Jàden didn’t care if he caught the heavy sarcasm in her voice. She wasn’t a child and wasn’t about to be ordered around like one.

  Clenching her fists, she tried her best to keep from cursing up a storm. She needed to put up a wall between them anyway before she did something really stupid that couldn’t be undone. And she might as well do it now, while he was angry anyways.

  Ignoring his glare, she nudged Agnar around him and trotted after Thomas.

  CHAPTER 32

  The Dark Isle

  Jon turned toward the towering inferno, thousands of lives now in peril because of Frank’s sky beasts. Only one remained overhead, keeping its distance as it hovered over the sea. Screams blew across the wind and faded to silence, the shifters moving east as they tried to escape the blaze.

  He tossed the torch into the sea, thankful he hadn’t been forced to use it. Even with the rain cascading over the land, the shifters would lose half their homes, or if they were lucky, the fires would extinguish before any more lives were lost.

  This was not the entrance he wanted to a new land.

  Nudging his horse closer to Malcolm, he pressed two fingers against the old man’s neck. His pulse still beat strong as he lay unconscious over his horse. He’d accidentally run into a teenage shifter hiding from the ships, and the boy was so scared he’d released all his venom into Malcolm’s face.

  The old man should wake up soon. Jon grabbed the lead line and trotted after the others, anger burning in his heart. Not because of the fires or the man who was like a second father to him.

  All because Jàden called him captain.

  Once they found a safe spot to bed down for the night, he would have a few words with her. No wife of his would call him captain, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to let her push him away anymore.

  He was her husband, and it was about time she learned the truth.

  They rode until afternoon when thick fog rolled in from the coast. He could barely see a dozen spans into the foliage.

  Frogs chirruped loud enough to mask the crashing waves as they followed the muddy road along the shore, crossing a tributary from the sea that turned into a wide river flowing straight into the heart of the Dark Isle.

  Jon wrangled his horse alongside Theryn. “What happened earlier with Jàden?”

  “Shifter,” Theryn muttered. “The guy saw her face, Captain. And he called her Jàden. The man knew her.”

  Jon clenched his jaw. “Which means he’ll be following us. We need to know more about this place.”

  If traders like Naréa always dumped their human cargo near the sahiranath web, chances were few escaped with their lives. “You and Dusty see if you can create a
projectile launcher similar to those weapons. Everyone learns how to use them and how to avoid them.”

  “Yes, sir.” Theryn rode ahead to catch up with Dusty.

  “Th’fuck happing.” Malcolm groaned and wove his fingers into his stallion’s mane. “Cap’n?”

  “Right here.” He lit one of his nearly dry cigarettes. “Rest, old man. We’re safe for now.”

  Malcolm sat up, stiffness in his movements. Not much changed over the next few hours except they had new shadows tracking them. Likely the ones who saw Jàden’s face, but Jon was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open.

  Jàden held her shoulders hunched. Still hiding something. He didn’t like unknown variables or how unpredictable she was in a fight. No doubt Jàden was smart, but she always seemed to react by her own fears. He had to figure out a way to understand her moves.

  “Last web I saw was hours ago. I think we’re out of sahiranath territory, but I don’t want to take any chances. We keep riding until dark,” Jon said. Fog became trapped between the barrier and the shore while the rain remained a constant cold drizzle.

  “And hope those shifters don’t blame us for what happened.” Malcolm pulled out his pipe, improving back to his cranky self by the time the last sun set.

  Jon scanned the sky for any sign of Frank’s ships as he dismounted and tied off his horse. The sky turned full dark, a hint of illumination in the west as if a large city lay nearby.

  In any normal circumstance, he would have ordered his men to check it out, but he couldn’t risk an encounter with another web.

  Nor could he risk sleeping on the beach with Frank’s ships in the sky. Only Jàden’s shelter idea seemed to be the trick.

  “Same as this morning,” Jon said. “Blankets up, everyone inside for sleep. Three watches set.”

  “Yes, Captain.” His men went about their duties.

  Thomas was the exception. “We should let her rest, Captain. She won’t be any good to us sick.”

  Anyone else and he might have agreed, but it was time he cracked Jàden open. He needed to get to the truth of everything—her truth. Jon didn’t like the idea of another Flame, another variable that could cause more problems. “No, push her harder. Do it now.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The Dark Isle

  Jàden searched the sky for any of Frank’s ships. They’d disappeared hours ago, but a very bad feeling settled in her gut. “He must be furious.”

  The only thing likely saving her ass right now was his leg injury. But with every day that passed, he’d heal, just as her shoulder had healed to no more than a deep ache in the joint.

  As she finished brushing Agnar, Thomas shoved a staff in her hand. “Time for some fun.”

  Sparring with Thomas was never fun.

  Jàden leaned her head against the stallion’s shoulder, her thoughts in turmoil. The ache to be in Jon’s arms was so strong, even sensing his gaze on her back caused her stomach to twist into knots.

  Exhaustion tugging at her senses, Jàden moved onto the sand opposite Thomas.

  Always wound tight with anger, Thomas’s movements were fast and precise, and the bastard never broke a sweat. It was only after their sparring she ever saw him rubbing his arms as if he’d been hiding some injury.

  She missed a hit, and he smacked her brand again, a fiery sting shooting into her hip.

  Jàden clenched her jaw to bite back the pain. Sweat dripped along her face and neck as she finally had enough and shouted at him. “I’m never going to heal if you keep hitting my injury.”

  “So, stop me.” Thomas circled her with the staff tucked behind his forearm. The longer she sparred with him, the bigger an asshole he became. His light taps in the beginning had turned to solid hits. “Again.”

  She circled once more, her palms slick with sweat. Her body resisted each movement, as if she couldn’t get the right leverage. She aimed for Thomas and swung.

  He dodged her blow then swept her feet.

  Jàden hit the ground hard. She grabbed her hip, barely biting back another cry.

  “You’re distracted tonight.” Thomas pressed the staff against her neck and lifted her chin. “Is this about Kale?”

  “None of your business.” She shoved it away and rolled to her feet. The last thing Thomas needed to know was how much she wanted to kiss Jon and the guilt that came with it.

  Thomas laid the staff across his shoulders, draping his arms over as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Everything’s my business.”

  She swung the staff across his gut, relishing a small victory when he stumbled back out of breath. Stupid bastard.

  But an amused light touched his eyes as he stood up straight again. “Or maybe this isn’t about Kale at all.”

  “Shut up, Thomas,” she muttered.

  Whatever this new dirty tactic was, she didn’t like it. The last thing she wanted to talk about tonight was Kale or how much he was fading to a distant memory.

  “You’re keeping secrets from us.” His staff slammed into her burn, causing her to cry out in pain before she could block the hit. “Where’s the other Flame?”

  “I don’t know!” She stumbled out of his reach and kept her weapon up. “Frank never found the other one.”

  Fire burned in her hip as she took a step back, the twins circling behind her. Ashe held up two smaller bamboo staffs tied together and tossed them toward her. “These might be more your size.”

  One wary eye on Thomas, she untied the sparring sticks and held one in each hand. Smaller and lighter. She stretched out her arms, noting a broader range of movement without her grip tied to a single weapon.

  “You spar with two sticks,” Ashe said. “You spar with two fighters.”

  Thomas grabbed her staff and stepped aside, while Ashe and Andrew circled around her. Yet something in the set of Thomas’s jaw told Jàden he hadn’t finished with her.

  “What will Frank do when he puts the Flames together?” he asked.

  Jàden protected her hip as the twins circled. Identical faces, one on each side. She had to keep moving. Keep turning.

  But Jon was always there in the back, watching like a hawk.

  Thomas crossed his arms. “Get the truth out of her.”

  “Dammit—”

  Before she could say more, Andrew attacked, Ashe sneaking a hit across her shoulder. In and out, when one lunged, the other swooped in for a hit.

  She raised her arm to block, a stick hit her thigh. Jàden attempted to keep pace with the twins but soon doubled over, fighting for breath. Her heart pounded so hard her chest spasmed with a deep ache.

  Thomas lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What will Frank do?”

  Tears burned in her eyes as she tried to look away. She wanted to keep the knowledge clamped down tight, but the ice in Thomas’s tone pulled her words out. “He’ll open the other gate.”

  “What gate?” He tightened his fingers, but like Jon, his grip was both gentle and strong, commanding her attention. “You’re playing with our lives, Jàden. We need the whole truth.”

  Something that nearly got her and Kale killed, so they opted to keep their silence. To run far away from both Sandaris and Hàlon where they’d be safe and no one could ever exploit her powers. A space where she could live her life until the Flame consumed her, without risking death to all the Hàlon citizens who had no clue what really lurked beneath the moon’s surface.

  “The one below,” she whispered, “in the moon’s core.”

  Thomas frowned and glanced at Jon as if waiting for his next order.

  “Enough.” Jon’s single word held the command of a Guild general, and both Thomas and the twins backed away. His shoulders still held the tension of a coiled viper as he walked toward her. “You’re on watch tonight, with me.”

  Her chest tightened. Of course she wouldn’t get to sleep. He’d want to know more, and Jàden couldn’t tell him everything, though she’d already s
aid too much. “Yes, Captain.”

  His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, his jaw growing tighter by the second. Jon finally grabbed his bow and quiver, retreating to the trees along the shore.

  Thomas waved the twins off. “You’re still hunching your shoulders. Focus on the fight, not the fear.”

  Jàden clenched the sticks, tempted to throw them at Thomas’s head. She’d rather be focused on sleep, but she retreated to her saddle bags and wiped the grime from her face.

  “Aren’t you the favorite.” Theryn grinned as he ran a blade over a piece of wood, carving it to look like a handgun. Likely to help them all train for different types of weapons.

  “Oh, shut up.” The muscles in her arms burned as she pulled on her thicker hooded shirt.

  She was honestly a bit jealous he could laugh so easily in the face of danger when her only coping tactics were to run and hide like a child. The last thing she needed was to sit in uncomfortable silence when she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “The captain’s in a foul mood tonight. Whatever you do, don’t lie to him. That’ll piss him off faster than a knife to the gut.”

  “It’s just the rain making him grouchy,” she muttered. Jàden wanted to tell Jon the whole truth about everything, but as his strength flowed into her veins, so did her guilt.

  Every day, she dragged Jon deeper into her mess.

  “Hear that, Dusty? Genius here thinks the weather’s souring the captain’s mood.” Both men chuckled. Then Theryn leaned close and lowered his voice. “Just bed the man and save us all a headache.”

  She punched him hard in the arm and stormed off, cursing under her breath while his laughter followed. Of all Jon’s men, he was the most opinionated and loud-mouthed.

  And the last thing she needed was anyone to see how hard his words hit her gut.

  The idea of intimacy with Jon heated up every inch of her body. She craved the gentleness of his strong arms holding her tight. But tonight she’d have to deal with the angry captain, and she doubted anything she said could flip his switch back to the softer man who’d comforted her tears.

  Jon’s a good man with a kind heart, and he’ll always have your back in a fight. Mather’s voice slipped into her thoughts. When I’m gone, it’ll be up to you to take care of him.