“Wherever he is—” Malcolm started.
But Jon clocked him across the jaw, knocking him out cold.
As the old man collapsed, he turned and glared at his men. “What the fuck happened? I told you to find him a companion, not a barrel of réva to drown in.”
He cursed under his breath and yanked the ax out of the chair. They’d be lucky if the tavern owners didn’t have them all arrested. “Get him back to the inn.”
As he searched the remaining faces for who might be the angriest—no doubt the owners—his vision blurred. He shook his head, a strange sensation needling his senses.
The room tilted sideways, and he grabbed the chair, crashing to the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” The ax slipped out of his hand as black oil slid along his veins, covering up Jàden’s light.
It doused her breath until all he could feel was anger. Betrayal. Hatred.
“Jàden,” he whispered as his head hit the ground. “Someone find Jàden.”
CHAPTER 37
Felaren
Jon’s kiss burned through Jàden’s senses as she scrubbed herself clean and dried off. She should stay and wait for him to return while she relaxed in the heated pool, but the inferno burning through her wanted to tear off his clothes and wrap herself in his heat.
Nakshirnén.
Kóna.
With the bond sealed now, she still didn’t quite understand their meaning. Maybe she needed Jon to say them with their energy tied.
The last threads of Kale were slipping away, and she needed to let him go.
No matter how many times she tried to believe he was still out there waiting for her to find him, it simply wasn’t possible anymore. She’d seen his ship explode with her own eyes, and these past few weeks, her grief hadn’t been nearly as strong.
But that didn’t mean she’d ever stop searching for him.
She dressed in clean clothes, let her hair hang loose and stepped outside onto the path, her dirty items stuffed in her bag.
Ashe leaned against a nearby tree, his stance rigid. Even in his most relaxed state, the man always looked ready to tackle a shàden to the ground. He whistled nonchalantly, raising his brows at her as a grin spread across his face. “Fun night.”
“Shut up, Ashe.” Certain her cheeks were red from embarrassment, Jàden slipped the bloodflower inside her shirt. She was tempted to tell him to shove off, but no way would Jon let her out of sight—not even for a second. Heading toward the horses, she needed to gather her gear and get everything cleaned and ready for morning.
A shadow stepped onto the path, cutting her off.
Jàden hesitated, her eyes lifting from black boots firm against the ground to even blacker eyes in a tanned face. “Éli.”
“Run!” Ashe shouted, a knife sailing past her head.
Éli shifted aside, the blade barely missing his shoulder.
Black-clad men melted from the shadows, but even without the tower and two moons emblem on their shoulders, Jàden easily identified their silver weapons.
Rakir.
She inched back, hearing a scuffle behind her. “Ashe?”
But only Éli stood there, tall and thin, with a single sword strapped to his back. His obsidian eyes bored into hers.
She tried to bolt, but he grasped her neck in an iron grip, shoving her against a nearby tree. When she tried to punch him, he grabbed her wrist, stretching her arm to the side and forcing her fingers open.
“No!” She struggled against him, but he tightened his grip on her neck.
Flecks of light and shadow lifted away from her skin.
“You’re not one of Jon’s sisters. I want to know who you are.” A smirk tugged the corner of his lip. “I hear you have the power of a Guardian.”
“Get off me.” Jàden clawed his hand, trying to peel his fingers away from her neck.
Éli curled his fingers into her hair and pulled until she cried out. He barked a loud laugh. “I’ve been searching for you a long time, woman.”
He pressed his mouth against hers.
Jàden shuddered, shoving against his chest as his hard and demanding kiss stole the fire in her skin. She kicked his legs, but he pressed closer. Her stomach twisted into her throat as she dug her nails into his arm.
Nothing had any effect.
Grasping along his waist for a weapon, her fingers wrapped around a dagger hilt.
Éli groaned, his mouth caressing her cheek to her ear as he spoke in a low, sensual tone. “You must be Jon’s woman.”
Ice gripped her stomach at the idea of Jon with a lover still in the north.
Jàden yanked the dagger out of its sheath.
He grabbed her wrists and slammed them over her head, the blade cluttering to her feet. Éli breathed in deeply and groaned against her cheek. “Feisty too. I knew Jon wouldn’t disappoint me.”
“Get off me, shàden breath.” She struggled against his grip. “You have the wrong person.”
Éli laughed a deep, sinister chuckle from the pit of his chest. The same laugh of her attacker the night Mather died.
He leaned in, crushing her between his chest and the trunk as his mouth lingered close to hers. “We are like brothers, Jon and I. Everything that’s his belongs to me.”
“I’m not…” Her throat closed around Jon’s earlier words.
You’re part of our family now. Me and these men. He’d been trying to tell her. First in the mountains before Mather died then again tonight. This pendant is my family’s legacy.
But how?
As if in answer, the moon’s heart thrummed against her as the Flame’s fire slid into her veins.
“Nakshirnén,” she whispered. As soon as her mouth formed the words, the full meaning slammed into her.
Bond of the Flame. Twin souls.
Spouse.
The Sandarin word slid into her thoughts. Its meaning flowed through her skin, a word that didn’t exist in her language, but the energy pulled Jon’s understanding of the bond into her. She’d not tied their energy together. She’d bound herself as his wife from that first day in the mountains. “Shit.”
“Commander Hareth,” someone shouted behind her.
Jàden twisted her head so she could see what was happening.
Dozens of black-clad men lined the path with their weapons out.
One said, “Kill this asshole or keep him alive?”
Ashe was on his knees, arms pinned back with their swords at his throat. The humor was gone from his eyes as he locked his gaze onto her. “Run, Jàden. Never stop fighting.”
“No.” She struggled again, trying to shove Éli away. Fuck everyone else. She wasn’t going to let someone else die. She lifted her knee toward Éli’s crotch.
But he sidestepped and pulled her away from the tree, pinning her wrists behind her back. “Kill him.”
“No, let him go.” Her heart raced as fire crackled in her veins.
Ashe struggled, trying to fight off the other men, but the Rakir forced his head back, pouring a milky liquid down his throat. He sputtered and spit, choking on whatever they were shoving into him.
“Ashe!” Tears spilled down her cheeks. She slammed her head forward.
Grabbing her neck before she could break his nose, Éli dropped his mouth next to her ear. “I know Jon better than anyone alive. Now that I have you—”
“Fuck you!” Jàden cried out, struggling as Ashe fought to push the liquid out of his throat.
“Can’t be.” Éli’s hand closed on her throat, his voice growing darker. His finger slipped beneath the bloodflower’s chain. He tugged the pendant toward the top of her bodice.
Fuck Frank and anyone hunting her.
She dug her fingers into Éli’s hand to focus her power, the Flame’s white light burning through her senses.
But it stalled, almost as if an energy barrier protected him.
An oily feeling oozed over her skin,
the same icky substance from the withered old man on the ship. Éli must possess the same power they’d wielded.
She cried out, the Flame’s power blazing along her arms into him as a seed of darkness thrust into her chest. Anger and vengeance, hatred so twisted it masqueraded desperation turned obsession. Buried under it all, a void dark and wide, empty and hollow.
Jàden tried to push it away—the horrible emptiness that once lurked deep in her own soul, but it kept growing wider, sucking all the light from inside her heart. “Get it out!”
“What did you do?” Hatred burned in Éli’s eyes as he stumbled back and lifted his hands. Blackness oozed around his forearms, a touch of light threading through like the rogue lock of hair in her braid.
“What did I do? You fucking bastard, Éli, make it stop!” She scratched her arms, trying to get rid of the slimy feeling. When that didn’t work, Jàden reached for the Flame and a terrifying amount of power to blast him away from her.
Shadow and light, dark flame and bright, pulled into her.
Ambition flowed through her veins. Obsession. An oily black slick wrapping light and shadow. Her hands shook so hard her wrist hit something solid against her waist.
The daggers. Of course—Jon had her keep them hidden.
She unsheathed a dagger.
An arrow slammed into one Rakir, green feathers shuddering along a pale wood shaft. A dozen more plunged into the soldiers.
“Protect Herana,” someone shouted as green-cloaked figures scrambled onto the path.
Éli pulled her mouth to his, kissing her so deep he cut off her breath.
The dark seed sprouted, digging roots deep into her soul and forging a second bond.
Jon and Éli—both whispered through her skin now.
She shoved her dagger into Éli’s side. “Stay away from Jon Ayers.”
Pain bled into his eyes, and he stumbled back, half the dagger blade still showing. He yanked the weapon out and pointed the tip toward her, blood dripping off glittering silver.
Whatever he was about to say, two green-clad figures crashed into him, knocking him and her blade to the ground.
“Ashe.” Jàden ducked a soldier’s sword and raced to his side. “Ashe. Look at me.”
His body shuddered, spittle foaming at the corner of his mouth.
She slid her arm beneath his shoulder and pulled him upright. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
A man with a sandy blond beard crouched beside her, his forest green clothing muddied and soaked. “What happened to him?”
“We have to get the poison out.” Jàden slammed her elbow into Ashe’s gut. When nothing came out, she leaned him forward and shoved her fingers into his throat.
Ashe seized then heaved onto the path.
“That’s it.” She knelt at his side, forcing him again and again to unload the contents of his stomach as she tried not to gag at the smell.
Ashe shuddered then dropped his head and didn’t move.
“No no no.” She pressed two fingers to his throat, a faint pulse thrumming against her. “He’s still alive.”
The blond man rolled Ashe onto his back and pressed an ear to his chest. “The poison’s got him now. It must have gotten into his lungs too.”
There was something familiar about him. Jàden couldn’t put her finger on it, but she could almost swear she’d seen his face before. “Why do I know you?”
He glanced around the path then grabbed a small vial and held it up to the lantern light. “Sejhna. Dammit. You won’t find any cure in Felaren.”
“I can’t let him die.” She felt again for a pulse. “Where do I find the cure?”
“Only in the jungle. The fungus must be plucked straight from the earth, or it will have no effect.” He pushed back his hood and shouted to his companions, using a language she’d never heard before.
“You.” She grabbed his jaw, the same stormy gray eyes locking onto hers like they had days ago. “I saw you, in sahiranath territory.”
A woman with platinum blond hair dropped from a high tree branch onto a soldier. She grabbed his head with her thighs and dropped backward to her hands, pulling him down and snapping his neck.
The Rakir retreated. Éli wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
The blond stranger grabbed Jàden’s shoulder, something deep inside her sensing a long, lost instinct. Some piece of her she never knew existed seemed to slide into place.
“If we can get to the jungle fast enough, we can save him,” he said.
She ignored the alien sensation and shoved his hand off. “I have no reason to trust you.”
All that mattered now was getting the poison out of Ashe, but as she glanced around the grassy spit of land, Jon and the others were nowhere in sight. They had to know how to help him, but she had no idea where they’d gone drinking.
“We must hurry.” The blond man stripped off his shirt, winding it into a thick rope, which he slung beneath Ashe’s shoulders. Black lines were inked along his side, an image of a zankata with its wings spread wide and feathers wrapped around his neck.
Look for this symbol, Kale whispered into her thoughts.
Jàden grabbed the man’s arm, turning him around so she could see a full view of the tattoo. “You have Kale’s zankata.”
“Yes. We’re part of the Tahiró. We serve you, Jàden.” He gestured toward the others. Each of the forest figures tugged open a collar or pushed up a sleeve.
They all bore the same tattoo—Kale’s zankata.
There was no question in her mind what to do. She had to save Ashe, and she trusted Kale with her whole heart.
“I’ll get my horse.” Racing to the enclosure, she threw open the fence, startling the horses awake.
“Let’s go. Ashe needs you.”
She slapped Ashe’s horse, Hena, on the backside to chase him out of the pen. Grabbing Agnar by his bridle, she tugged him out too and didn’t bother closing the door.
“Go find the captain!” she shouted.
The horses raced onto the rolling lawns as she bolted back toward Ashe with his horse and hers. Hena nudged his companion and whinnied.
This was her fault, just like Mather.
She should have used her power, or had she? Jàden clenched her hand, the slick black obsession breathing through her skin.
No, she had used her power, but something in Éli doused it—that same kind of power the high council men wielded but stronger.
“I won’t let you die.” Jàden pulled up her hood then grasped Ashe’s hand as several men pushed him onto his horse. She squeezed gently then wrapped her fingers in Agnar’s mane and swung onto his back.
They hurried down a dirt path as it wound around the hillock then into a reedy marsh near a river. The swift current drowned out the shouts and noise of the city.
Horses picketed near the bank raised their heads and pressed their ears forward. With slender legs and long necks, they were smaller than the norshads.
The sandy-haired man held Hena’s mane in one hand, the twisted shirt holding Ashe upright against his chest. They stopped long enough to toss the stranger’s saddle on Hena and tie Ashe properly to his horse.
Jàden knotted a lead rope and put it around Hena’s neck. “You follow. We’re going to save him.”
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t fall.” The woman who’d snapped a soldier’s neck rode alongside on a short mare, branching brown lines like a birthmark across her pale skin. She shoved something in Ashe’s mouth then gestured to several of her companions.
“Go find the fungus.”
They burst into flocks of birds and disappeared into the trees.
The blond man grabbed the reins and mounted his tawny mare. “Let’s ride.”
They raced along the ravine. Grassy strips of lawn mingled with reedy marshes and low-hanging willow. Jàden gripped Hena’s lead tight, watching Ashe for any signs of seizing again. His breath was shallow, sometimes jerking him when h
e gasped for air.
She followed the others into the swift-moving waters under a mass of tangled vines and branches. As the river widened, they climbed the bank on the far side and wound deeper into the trees.
Jàden glanced back once, a deep ache stabbing at her chest. I won’t let him die like Mather.
Lights flashed to the north.
A black splotch flew over the harbor, barely the size of a thumbnail to her eyes. Blue light glowed against the hull as a ship disappeared beyond the sea.
Frank. He was no longer in a scout craft but a Raith fighter, just like the ship Kale had died in.
The blond man doubled back, circling his horse in front of her. His stormy gray eyes were curious. Gentle. “We should go.”
Jàden nodded and wrangled Agnar alongside his mare.
She didn’t care who the man was or where he came from. His tattoo would lead her to Kale.
CHAPTER 38
Gulséa Prison
The iron bars slammed shut, and Jon dropped his head back against the wall. “Someone get that old man sobered up so I can beat the shit out of him.”
Of all the stupid things for Malcolm to do, this was possibly the worst.
Jon’s thoughts were all scattered now. Jàden’s gentle sweetness was barely a thread of breath whispering through his skin. Something else slid through his senses, a dark, devouring wave of nothingness that threatened to swallow her light.
Please be safe. He pulled himself to stand again and pressed his head against the cool iron door. Her kiss still burned on his lips, and Jon ached to rip the bars off their hinges and fight his way back to her, but he barely had the strength to stand. It was hard to breathe too deep without the darkness sliding through every inch of his body.
Whatever had happened to her, it was affecting him too.
Frank must have found her, and Jon sure as shit wasn’t going to leave her to suffer like that damn lover of hers. “Hey, guard!”
Several of the prison guards glanced in his direction, but none of them budged. Jon clenched the bars, all too familiar with their behavior. Twenty years of his life spent on the other side meant he knew one wrong word could mean the difference between freedom and execution.
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