Kale grabbed a cigarette and lit it.
“What I didn’t understand at the time is Jàden can’t leave. She’s tied to the moon the way some people get tangled and follow each other from one life to the next. It’s a universal law that nobody talks about because most folks want to believe every life is a fresh start.”
Kale set the gun aside and leaned forward.
“But Jàden’s life has been tangled by another, an ex-lover obsessed with owning her. His obsession dug its claws in so deep it nearly killed her once.”
Stepping back, Jon rubbed his hands over his face, trying to piece together the words. Obsession was something he knew all too well after years of dealing with Éli. Hopefully the prick was dead and would stay that way. One obsessive asshole was already too much of a pain in his ass.
Braygen laid a hand against his shoulder to steady him.
But Jon was too riveted to the screen to care.
He couldn’t be Kale. No way would he have let those men viciously torture her for so long.
Kale continued, breaking into his thoughts. “There’s a way to balance Jàden’s power, something I didn’t know about. A subtheric energy field called the Dark Flame. If you combine them…”
Jon rubbed his temples. “I can’t be him.”
“…the two substances ignite a spark. A person so strong they can draw power from both energy fields and open the moon’s inner gate.
Freezing where he stood, Jon digested Kale’s last words. Draw power from both Jàden and the other Flame. He hadn’t seen another Flame, but he could feel it deep in his skin now.
Obsession, anger, a power so strong it stifled Jàden’s sweet light.
The answer hit him hard.
Éli.
Jon lifted his hand, black flecks lifting away from his palm with Éli’s poisoned power. It was trying to get to him, and he didn’t have the magic like Jàden to fight it off.
“Éli bonded Jàden.” Jon searched for the whisper of soft breath in his veins, but it was suffocating and he couldn’t pull her power forth.
“You are the spark now, but you have to bond with both Jàden and Trevor. Love one, hate the other, the darkness and the light. This is the only way to save her.” Kale’s voice hitched as he fiddled with the glowing firemark, popping it free and slamming it repeatedly back into the gun’s hilt.
Braygen seemed to stiffen at Trevor’s name as Jon shook his head to clear some of the dizziness.
After a long silence, Kale leaned against his hand, fiercely rubbing the top of his head. His deep-set hazel eyes seemed to stare at nothing. “I wish I could have been her spark. I had my chance to be with Jàden, and I fucked everything up from day one.”
Tears spilled onto Kale’s cheeks as grief stabbed Jon’s heart.
“Get this into your head right now, future me. It’s your job to take care of her, so don’t you dare fuck it up. You have one shot to set things right, or we all die and start again. I don’t care what you have to do or who you have to kill. Tell Jàden I love her and I’d give up everything to hold her again.”
The glass darkened.
CHAPTER 52
Veradóra
Fog hung heavy in the morning drizzle as Éli crept through the trees, making as little noise as possible. His skin softened with the Guardian’s breath. He pressed the sensation to the furthest corner of his mind and entered the trees, half his men dissolving into the shadows.
He’d left a few behind to look after Connor until the boy rejoined his uncle.
“Get over here, boy.” He tightened the girth on his horse as Connor edged over, trying to stand tall despite the fear in his eyes. Éli took the faux bloodflower and slipped it around Connor’s neck. “Your uncle’s coming to kill me. When he arrives, tell him everything.”
He’d almost discarded the pendant several times, but now he understood its purpose. To make Jon choose between his wife and his nephew.
Éli wasn’t returning to his men. He would steal Jon’s wife and disappear into the jungle. When Jon tried to ‘save’ Jàden from him, all he’d find is a nephew who was supposed to be dead.
The plan was perfect this time.
Jon would be happy to see Connor, angry that his Guardian had been abducted and slowly drive himself mad wondering if the rest of his family was still alive and who to rescue first.
Fucking bastard wouldn’t beat him again, not this time.
Jàden was somewhere in this village, and according to his scouts, so was Jon. He and his men just needed to stay invisible to the Veradórans.
The chilly air was nothing like the icy cold of the north, but the constant dreary rain made him just as miserable. He only had one shot at this.
Granger dropped beside him between two large roots. “We’ve got a shadow, Commander. Ever since the sky beast.”
“Then get rid of it.” One of those damn figures must still be alive.
“Can’t find him, sir.” Granger spat at the ground. “Every time I get close, the fucker vanishes. Could be one of them bastards searching for the Guardian.”
“Fuck.” Like the mohawked man he’d enraged inside the sky beast. Éli clenched his fist. If their shadow was after his woman, he’d just led the bastard right to her.
“Keep your eyes open. Kill the shadow first. Then Blakewood is yours.”
Women’s laughter rang out from the other side of the tree.
Cursing under his breath, Éli crept silently through the dense foliage. His eyes adjusted to the gloom as he searched the walkways and the few sentry birds on duty. Most were looking the other way.
A knot of men trudged across a bridge, the one in the middle grasping the rail like he could barely stand.
One glance and Éli’s lip curled into a sneer. Jon.
There he was, with both twins still alive. Éli clenched his jaw—he’d have to beat the shit out of someone for that mistake. Tracing his gaze back the way they’d come, he spied Thomas heading away from several clustered huts.
Éli waited for him to leave then slipped onto the landing and pushed open a door.
Easing it closed, he looked around the modest interior, a few chairs with a large bed in the middle, the blankets tossed about. Several saddle bags lay on the table, and he rifled quickly through them. The first held Jon’s clothing, but the second had the Guardian’s attire.
He picked up one of her shirts and sniffed deeply, her scent as gentle as her soft breath in his skin.
An ache clutched his chest. It had been months since he’d lain with a woman. But he couldn’t linger here too long. Unable to find anything else of use, he stuffed the Guardian’s shirt under his leather armor and slipped out of the hut, rejoining his men in the brush.
“Don’t see her anywhere, Commander,” a younger Rakir whispered. “She might be up in them bird huts.”
Éli had a pretty good idea where she was—wherever Jon was headed. “I’m going to need a diversion. And put two men a few heartbeats behind me. I want that shadow dead.”
Slipping through the brush, Éli couldn’t get far without alerting nearby sentries to his presence.
One of his men raced onto the bridge and shouted, “Death to the Guardian.”
As villagers swarmed out of their huts, he leapt over the rail into the valley’s deep lake. Ashe raced past with several others.
Éli spied his opening.
He slipped through the shadows onto the path, retracing the steps to where Jon disappeared. If she wasn’t in the village, she had to be with that pretentious prick.
The way narrowed to a thin trail barely wide enough for a single man, ending at a metal door buried in the cliff. He traced his fingers over the tree and crouched in front of the horse symbol, so similar to his birthmark.
No, identical to his birthmark. What the fuck?
Sebastian had always told Éli he was special, a Hareth marked for greatness by the Guardians themselves. But since his brother
’s death, Erisöl—the Guardian of Empty Dreams—was his only comfort.
Tracing his fingers along the symbol, Éli’s chest tightened. Maybe he was a Guardian too.
And if that was the case, then nothing would stand in his way ever again. He poked along the door’s seams for a release latch then grabbed the dangling light mechanism, gripping it against his palm.
The door slid open.
Éli pressed his back to the side and peered in. A stone hallway stretched into the rock. His muscles bunched as he stepped inside, silently creeping across the dusty floor. Muddy footprints led to a steel door at the end of the hall. Éli traced the lines of illumination, the same glow he’d seen in the sky beast, in the Tower of Idrér and in Jon’s lighter.
“What are you hiding?” he muttered, his voice barely a soft breeze escaping his mouth. He stopped in front of the Guardian symbols, a faint tingle in his skull.
Light does not exist without darkness. Darkness cannot breathe without light. Bond them to create shadow, who both divides and unites.
He’d never been able to read the old Guardian language, and yet the meaning coiled around his thoughts. Éli lifted his hand. Darkness and illumination, the dual-colored flecks lifting away from his palm.
Light does not exist without darkness.
He could almost taste his Guardian’s kiss again, that sweet fire with Jon’s scent all over her. Evardo’s words rolled back through his mind. She needs you.
A devious grin curled the corner of his lip as he crept toward the inner door, tracing his fingers along the seams. A small square of frosted glass lay to the left.
Éli brushed his hand over the surface, the light shifting from white to blue.
CHAPTER 53
Temple of the Three Moons
“By the Guardians,” Andrew muttered. “Jàden’s been searching for you the whole time.”
“I can’t believe I’m Kale.” Jon had wanted to kick that guy’s ass so many times, and now the man’s heavy grief settled in his heart.
He was the asshole that never saved her, never protected his family and could never take back Mather’s death. All of it weighed on him now as he stumbled for the door.
“We find Jàden now,” he said.
He had the power Frank needed. Almost. But Jon wasn’t gonna let that stop him. He’d stack the whole world around Jàden to keep her safe, but first he had to find Éli and bond that fucker.
“She’s gone after the Rakir,” Braygen said. “The Veradóran women are with her.”
“And you didn’t stop her?” Jon tried to punch Braygen, but a wave of darkness washed over him, twisting his thoughts to the point of dizziness.
Andrew caught his fist. “You need to rest, Captain. Our brothers are with her too. Hareth won’t touch her.”
Jon clenched his jaw at the third stone, still unformed with no defining lines yet. He knew Andrew was right but would still feel safer if she was in sight. “Éli’s the Dark Flame. I’m going to take his power, and then we’re going to start tearing those beasts out of the sky.”
If he could only walk straight.
The further away Jàden rode, the less her light shone, and right now the darkness suffocated him. He shoved both men away and stumbled toward the entry. The Guardian statues swam in his vision.
The door to the temple slid open, a silent swish of air against the vast chamber. Éli stepped through the entry, a sadistic twist to his features and punched Jon across the jaw.
Jon flew backward, and pain exploded across his cheek.
“Where is she?” Éli clutched Jon’s shirt and pulled him to his feet. “You took my brother from me. I’m taking your woman.”
Willing his body to fight back, Jon barely got his arm up to block a punch when Éli’s iron fist hammered his jaw. His lip split open, blood trickling across his chin.
“Bond me.” Spitting blood out, Jon groaned and signaled to Andrew: find her.
A shadow slipped through the open door and disappeared.
Jon shook the blurriness away, his vision sharpening on Andrew with a small knife in each hand, ready to throw.
“Have you tasted her yet? Soft and so full of fire.” A sadistic smugness laced Éli’s tone but didn’t reach his eyes. Pain lurked there, beneath pools of obsidian blacker than the night sky. “Her sweet lavender scent will make my sleeping blankets so sweet.”
Jon slammed his elbow into Éli’s jaw and kicked him in the groin. “Don’t you ever come near my wife.”
Fuck, it was hard to think. The leaded sensation in his muscles dragged him down as he grasped Éli’s collar. “If you kill me, you kill her. And you still lose.”
He had no idea if that was true, but he would never, ever let such a loathed man touch Jàden. Especially not after what the bastard had done to his sister.
Éli’s jaw clenched so tight a vein pulsed through his thin beard. He growled and kicked Jon hard in the gut. “She’s my wife now.”
Doubling over, Jon fought to catch his breath as Andrew and Braygen disappeared, likely to secure Jàden or ensure nobody interfered. But the door didn’t close all the way. Jon leaned against his statue, stumbling around to the unhewn rock in the hopes Éli would follow.
“Give me your arm, brother,” Jon said to Éli. His stomach twisted in loathing at the thought of bonding the man he despised most. Jon’s sisters would roar with laughter at the thought of him as a husband to Éli, but he’d do anything to hear their teasing voices again.
Éli chuckled. “Ready to make peace now, are we? I can feel her breath deep in my veins. Her power weaving through mine.”
He grabbed Jon and slammed him against the rock. “But like the old men on the high council, you have no power of your own.”
Blood dripped from his lip as Jon smiled. “Wrong again, brother.”
He slammed his head into Éli’s and twisted around, grabbing his hand and slamming it against the glass. “I want to know who the fuck you are.”
The ground rumbled again as dust shook off the third rock, slim lines tracing long grooves until Éli’s features emerged. Garbed in the same uniform as him and Jàden, the statue clutched a sword in one hand, three spirals lifting from the palm of his other. His left shoulder bore a mark similar to his and Jàden’s—a horse wreathed in flames.
“What the fuck is this?” Éli tried to pull back, but Jon held him firm.
Kale’s face appeared, steel shelves lining the walls behind him. Something was odd about his expression. About the way he held his shoulders.
“Let go.” Éli yanked his hand out and slammed Jon’s head against the rock.
Jon hit the ground, pain ripping through his skull. His vision blurred as he lifted his head, trying to focus on Kale.
“Who is he?”
On the screen, Kale’s jaw tightened. He lifted a weapon like the one Jàden had on the Darius, appearing to point it straight at Éli’s head.
Cold steel pressed against the back of Jon’s neck.
He should have shouted about that shadow, but something in his head told him it had to be Ashe. He should have known better.
“Frank fucking Kale.” Jon cursed under his breath.
“Looks like someone beat the hell of you, boy,” Frank said.
Éli whipped around with his sword unsheathed.
Frank lifted a second weapon and aimed at Éli. “You move, you die.”
On the glass, Kale swept his thumb over his weapon’s firemark, red light tracing along the brushed steel. His voice was eerily calm. “I know what you did, Trevor. You sold Jàden out to Doc Bradshaw. This isn’t over.” He fired and the screen went dark.
“You’re the shadow following my men.” Éli looked ready to murder Frank, but he eyed the weapon with caution.
Jon itched toward his daggers so he could rip Frank’s throat out, but he’d already seen too many times how fast those black weapons killed a man. And with Frank here, Jàden should be safe fo
r now.
Jon shook his head at Éli, silently urging him not to move.
“So, you’re Trevor.” Frank stepped back with his weapons pointed at both him and Éli. “You boys were always too obsessed with that woman.”
Pain seized his muscles as Jon slowly pushed to his feet. If he was going to die, he would never do it on his knees.
“And she’s useless to you now. Barely a half-magicked woman.” Jon would do anything to save, Jàden, and all he needed was to prove to Frank that he was the spark—a wielder of two Flames so his wife and men would always be safe. He lifted his palm, black ash floating upward from his hand.
Frank laughed and shook his head. “Boy, you are stupider than a naïve whore. Think you got it all figured out, do you?”
He fired at Éli’s statue, glass shattering outward.
Someone shouted in the outer corridor, feet pounding against the stone.
Frank cocked his head, a silver metal disc in his ear. “Get him in here.”
A dozen figures in light-up armor scrambled into the room, dragging Andrew with them. They kicked him to his knees, each one pointing a long, black weapon at them.
Jon seethed as they shoved him and Éli to their knees. Something about Frank’s words needled at him, a piece he was missing to this whole puzzle. Maybe he could get Frank to tell him what it was.
“I want to see this moon gate,” Jon said.
“In time.” Holstering his guns, Frank lit a cigarette, blue smoke swirling from the tip. “But first we’re gonna capture that vixen of yours.”
“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Jon tried to stand, only to have his knees kicked out again as a wave of dizziness crashed over him.
Éli’s power surged with anger, but Jon tried to hold onto the last thread of Jàden’s light.
“Touch her. Fuck her. I’ll do whatever I want to my little darlin’.” Frank lifted his eyebrows and pointed around the temple. “Who knew you’d make it so easy for me to find her.”
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