Amber Eyes

by S. D. Grimm

  She rounded on him and held his sword up to his stomach. “Don’t threaten me, soldier. I can always find a different pawn.” Her eyes were hard this time. A hint of heat pulsed across his skin. This threat was real.

  She lowered the weapon and stepped away from him. “You’re lucky I needed you. Connor knew nothing about stitching a wound. You would’ve bled out under his care. Now, are you willing to cut the games and accept that you need my help? Or are you still contemplating that death wish?”

  Connor? He was supposed to know that name. “Do you know where Jayden is?” His voice was strained.

  Kara propped his sword up against the wall—out of his reach again. “Sort of. I know she isn’t far. Besides, I think you can find her. You’re bound to her somehow. An oath maybe?”

  His oath scar would help him find her, of that he was certain. “If I can?”

  “That’s what I need. For you to protect her.”

  “I still have to get out of here. While you’re being so helpful, perhaps you can arrange an escape.” Ethan pushed off the wall, but found himself much weaker than anticipated. He nearly fell over, but Kara caught his right elbow and steadied him. His injured arm throbbed under her grip, and he flinched.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  His eyes snapped to meet hers. He caught her eyebrows drawn together.

  All the soft lines left her face, and her eyes glittered in the torchlight as her smirk returned. “You’d better sit down before you fall over.”

  She was probably right. His pulse pounded in every wound. “I’ll be fine. Are you going to tell me how to get out?”

  “Yes. But not during the day. Prince Franco has men searching for your friends. The forest is swarming with soldiers. I can get you out at night.”

  “Tonight.” He really had no idea what time of day it was.

  Kara cocked an eyebrow. “You’re more chopped up than a fighting dummy. You won’t make it far before you’re buzzard food.”

  He couldn’t have Kara following him. If Franco had men out looking for Jayden . . . “Did you say Franco?”

  Kara nodded. “Softheart killed Idla. Who knew she had it in her? Blew the queen’s eyes from her sockets.”

  She had? Good for her. The room started to look a little blurry. He reached behind himself with his left hand and guided himself back to sitting, closer to his sword. “Yes, tonight. No later.”

  “That I can arrange with little trouble.” She shook her head. “Provided you don’t keel over on the way out. Two days is hardly enough time to come back from the dead, soldier.”

  That choice of words made his heart miss a beat. Still, two days for him would be about four days’ worth of healing thanks to another of his talents. Plenty of time. “Like I said, don’t worry about me.”

  She crouched next to him. “You’ll want my horse. She’s faster, and she’ll return here when you let her go. Connor can’t go as far as I can. He’s a bound prisoner to the palace. I’m not. Oh, and . . .” She smiled and leaned next to his left ear. Cupped her hands around it.

  Hot breath heated his ear, but he didn’t hear a thing. Not even her breathing. He didn’t have time for her games. “Where will you leave the horse?”

  “You didn’t hear me?” She reached to touch his ear.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Just tell me.”

  “Temper, Ethan. I like it.” She pulled her arm free. “Take a left out of the alcove and follow the scent of rotting flesh until you see the crack of moonlight. It’s a door. Just push. I’ll be waiting outside with Javelin, my horse.”

  “What time of day is it now?”

  “Midday.” She stood to leave, stopped, and turned. “Oh, and it’s too bad about that ear, soldier.”

  Ethan swallowed and stilled his hand from touching his ear. Useless, all because of Scarface.

  He watched Kara slip soundlessly out of sight before he moved to get his weapon.

  Ethan finally reached his sword. He should really get going—before she came back—but the thought of standing made him queasy. He groaned and leaned his head against the wall. He’d be in a lot better shape with another day to heal, but he had to get to Jayden.

  She could be anywhere by now. When he pictured her face, a small twinge hit his heart—as if directing him toward a pull. He squeezed his hand in a fist and pressed his fingers into the oath scar, feeling the twinge to find Jayden in every pulse. First problem to solve: getting out of here unnoticed.

  He braced his hand against the ground to push himself up, but his finger brushed against something small and solid. It was smooth and cold, like a polished marriage stone.

  He picked it up. It warmed to his touch, and as he gazed at the stone, it glowed. A picture appeared. A small girl, about the same age as Wren, sat against jagged rock, dirty and alone with her knees pulled up to her chin. A chain encircled each wrist and bound her to the rock formation.

  Trails through grime on her cheeks revealed a path for tears. She pushed up her torn, threadbare sleeve and Ethan gasped. Red, angry blisters covered her skin.

  Her eyes, hazel and hopeless, connected with his through the stone—as if she felt him watching. She opened her mouth. He heard nothing, but her lips formed two words.

  Help me.

  The desire to protect her fanned in his chest.

  Two eyes, blue like hot flame, appeared in the stone. “Who is watching?” The voice thundered through his being, though he was sure it wasn’t audible.

  “Put that away!” Someone snatched the rock from Ethan’s hands. “She could have seen you.”

  Ethan stared at the young man who stood in front of him, and held up his sword as a warning.

  The intruder jumped back and stood against the opposite wall. He wrapped the stone in a handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. “I see you got your sword.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Connor.”

  That name again. Who—oh, yes. The woman Logan had fought in the tunnel had been calling for a Connor. Ethan steadied his sword, wishing he was standing but not willing to attempt it and risk showing how weak he was. “What do you want, Connor?”

  “At this point? To keep you alive.”

  “Why?” Ethan studied the young man’s face. He’d never seen someone with golden eyes.

  Connor crossed to the other side of the alcove. He picked up a satchel and tossed it to Ethan, staying just out of the sword’s reach. His movements were wary, like a curious wild animal. “I imagine you’re thirsty. Don’t worry, your friends made it out.”

  Ethan peered inside and saw food and water. Just the thought of water made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Dare he trust this Connor? It all depended on what Connor wanted from him.

  “Drink first and I’ll get you more.” Connor chuckled. “It’d be extra work on my part to take care of you, then poison you.”

  Good point. “Thank you.” Ethan drank like a horse refueling. “Why are you helping me?”

  “I don’t want you dying before you get where you’re going.”

  “That makes two of us, and I was just on my way out.”

  “You nearly lost an arm. The sword that hit you cut into your bone.” Connor winced. “The holes in your chest and stomach—I’m told—missed everything vital, but the puddle of blood I found you in was pretty big. Whoever stabbed you wanted you to suffer as long as possible.”

  “General Balton. Friend of yours?”

  Connor’s lower eyelids twitched. “If he were, why would I risk saving you?”

  “Good point. Who was that? In the stone.”

  “I can’t really say. Anyone who has one of these could—”

  “Okay, then what kind of stone is it?”

  “Piece of a seeing stone. Half of my piece, anyway. I want you to have it, but keep it covered when it’s not in use.”

  Ethan had touched the thing. No rough edge revealed that the stone had been cut. “I don’t like being lied to.”

  �
��I’m not. Seeing stones are a little tricky.” Connor moved to the wall next to Ethan and sat down. “This one is a chunk of an untraceable stone. When you cut a piece with a special object, the stone takes on a smooth shape so you can’t trace where it’s been cut from. That’s how you know it’s untraceable. Those with clear-cut marks, they’re traceable. Still, you can always see others who are watching in their stones, traceable or not. They appear, eyes first.”

  Ethan looked at Connor’s golden eyes and motioned to his own brown eyes. “I see why you’re being secretive. Brown eyes are hardly rare, though.”

  Connor smiled. “I suppose my eyes are the first thing people notice. But be careful. The Mistress of Shadows has a stone. And if she looks long enough, she’ll see your face, your surroundings. She’ll hunt you down.”

  “How do I put this? I don’t know how long you’ve been locked up, but here’s a little update for you. The Mistress, as you call her, has been dead a long time.”

  “Not dead. In prison. This time she’s been in there for three thousand years or so, but her prison is breaking. She’s escaped before. The Deliverers are born every so many years so they can rise up and prevent her escape.”

  Ethan leaned closer. “You’re saying she can get out?”

  “Why do you think Idla wanted the Deliverers? Why do you think the Mistress wants them? All four of them together can unlock enough of the Creator’s power to banish the Mistress forever. A lot of people would kill for that power, the Mistress included. But if she were to get her hands on it, she’d be unstoppable.”

  A shiver shot through Ethan. So the fight was far from over. Jayden and three others would have to make sure the Mistress of Shadows stayed in her prison. “There are others who want the Deliverers?”

  “The Mistress has many spies. Idla was one, but Idla wanted the power for herself. I can only assume she’s not the only one greedy enough. Franco was aware of his mother’s plans. If he can free the Mistress, the first thing she will destroy will be the Feravolk.”

  Ethan’s stomach twisted. “How do we stop Franco?”

  Connor pulled out the handkerchief-wrapped stone and offered it to Ethan. “You saw the girl?”

  Ethan recalled those pleading eyes and the protective pull in his chest ached. He didn’t reach for the stone.

  “She needs a rescue. I can’t go. I’m bound here by a trace spell. The Mistress wants her for a spell—I think it has something to do with breaking the prison. That’s enough for me to want her rescued.”

  “Who is the girl?”

  Connor looked right into Ethan’s eyes. “I don’t know. I just know she’s important to the Mistress’s escape. They move with her every day. I’m not sure where they’re going, but I can communicate with you through the stone.”

  “They?”

  Connor shrugged. “Powerful women. The ones who torture her.”

  “Why should I trust you? The enemy was looking for you the night my friends escaped.”

  “Not the enemy. Rebekah. My mother.”

  Ethan’s pulse raced. “You’re Logan’s son. The one he’s looking for? You’re a Deliverer.”

  “Shh.” Connor brought his finger to his lips and stalked to the edge of the alcove.

  Ethan picked up his sword. He braced himself against the wall and slowly stood. Everything still throbbed. He held his breath to listen but didn’t hear anything. Stupid ear.

  Connor looked over his shoulder. “Are you well enough to leave? Because Captain Jonis is headed this way. He wants to make sure a certain ‘dog’ is dead. He doesn’t mean me. No one else knows my secret save Rebekah.”

  “Jonis?”

  Connor drew his finger over his cheek in the pattern of a crescent-shaped scar Ethan knew well.

  “Scarface.” Ethan all but growled the name.

  Chapter 6

  A Borrowed Weapon

  What does Captain Jonis want with you?” Connor asked.

  Ethan tightened his grip on his weapon’s hilt as he recalled Scarface slamming a fist into his ear. “He wants me dead.”

  “Okay. That’s not good.” Connor started rummaging through his things. He handed Ethan a shirt and Ethan’s own sword belt to go with the satchel of food and water. “I’ll take you as far as I can toward the stables. There should be a horse waiting for you. I picked it because it will return here.” Connor smiled. “It’s Kara’s. Her name’s Javelin.”

  Trust or not, Ethan had to get out of here before Scarface could track him. And leaving before Kara came back was precisely what he wanted to do. He strapped on his belt.

  Connor winced. “You’re bleeding again.”

  Thanks to Kara. “Do you have a needle and thread?”

  “Yes.” Connor put the items into Ethan’s sack. Then he held out the handkerchief-wrapped stone.

  Ethan stared at it.

  Connor placed it in the satchel, which he handed to Ethan before snuffing the torch. Thankfully, other torches hung sparsely on the rocky walls. “I can see. I can lead you out.” He touched Ethan’s elbow. “Put your hand on my back.”

  Ethan complied, but keeping Connor’s brisk pace was more excruciating that he’d expected.

  Connor stopped and looped Ethan’s arm over his shoulders. “You’re not as healed as you let on.”

  “I’m also not as dead as Scarface is hoping.”

  Connor chuckled. “All right. I guess there’s no choice but to get you out of here.”

  “You should come with me. I’m sworn to protect the Deliverers. That includes you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been surviving here so far. I’ll be fine for a little while longer.”

  “We need you to stop the Mistress, don’t we?”

  Connor stared at him for a moment. “Yes, but not yet. I’m bound here by a trace spell. It’s more urgent that you find the others first.”

  Ethan didn’t feel the pull of protection he thought he would. Perhaps Connor was right. He’d be safe here for now. Not that Rebekah seemed trustworthy. “I’ll be back for you.”

  “I believe you.”

  They headed through the tunnels the way Kara had told Ethan to go. The scent of death and fire permeated everything. Light grew brighter as they neared the exit. And sounds grew louder. Stomping. Shuffling. Scarface drew nearer, and he wasn’t alone.

  “He was right here,” one voice said. “I see blood.”

  Great.

  “Well, he isn’t anymore, is he?” Scarface’s familiar snarl resounded behind them. “Find him.”

  Connor froze. “I think I’m going to have to head them off. Will you be able to make it out of the tunnel? The horse is just out that way.”

  “Kara visited earlier. I know where to find her horse.” Ethan slipped his arm from Connor’s shoulder. “But I don’t think you can—”

  Connor’s face changed and Ethan had nothing more to say. It was like looking into a mirror. And boy, did he look banged up. He swallowed. “He’ll kill you.”

  “He’ll have to catch me first.”

  Ethan’s talent urged him forward—his oath scar pulled him toward Jayden. It didn’t make sense. If he’d taken an oath to protect the Deliverers, that included Connor. Did that mean Connor was safer here? Maybe for now he was. And Ethan had no idea how to break a trace spell. Perhaps taking Connor would put him in greater danger.

  “Go.” Connor nudged him.

  Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Don’t—well, don’t get yourself killed.” He darted back down the tunnel and Ethan headed out.

  The scent of burning flesh seeped from the walls. Had Idla been killed here? His shoe kicked something and it skittered across the floor. A white horse charm. Hadn’t Jayden said this was all she had left of her mother? He clutched it in his fist. She’d better be alive. And all right.

  The tunnel let out, and Ethan squinted in the daylight. The scent of horse rode on the wind. He turned left. Kara’s horse stood tied to a sapling. Ethan click
ed his tongue. Javelin’s nostrils flared as he got closer. She likely smelled blood. But she calmed. Perhaps it was normal for her.

  He reached to pet her nose, then sighed with relief as he noticed the boulder just behind her. Good. He didn’t have to jump into her saddle after all. He hefted himself onto the rock. “Okay, girl, this might be a little sloppy. Just don’t move on me, huh?”

  Javelin let air through her lips and dipped her head to graze on the long grass.

  He pulled himself onto Javelin. She didn’t seem to mind his sloppy movement at all. How many times had Kara mounted her while injured? He patted the horse’s neck and clicked his tongue as he guided her with the reins. With a steady gait she complied, heading off the palace grounds.

  A pull tugged his heart and his oath hand echoed.

  Jayden. She’d better be okay.

  Chapter 7

  A Persuasive Offer

  Connor headed back toward Captain Jonis and his men. He wouldn’t be able to hold the illusion that made him look like Ethan for long, so he stayed in the shadows until he’d need to change.

  What he’d told Ethan was true—both that they needed him to defeat the Mistress and that he was bound to the palace. He hadn’t said that he planned to help them remotely. Ethan likely wouldn’t have understood anyway.

  Connor stalked near the tunnel wall, listening. His wolf hearing picked up the scuffle of footsteps headed his direction. He’d touched Ethan, so he could morph into a flawless representation of him. He focused. Changed. Stepped out of the shadows just in time to head down another corridor.

  “There he is!” one soldier shouted.

  “You won’t get away from me again, dog.” Captain Jonis’s voice resembled a low growl.

  Dog? Connor smiled. If he only knew.

  This corridor led back toward the palace. Connor knew it well. He’d spent a lot of time down here. A lot of time in the shadows.

  Four soldiers rounded the corner after him. He ran his fingers along the cool, rough stone wall in front of him. A small indentation. There. He faced the wall and changed back to himself, then he pressed the lever.