by Aguirre, Ann
Finally, the princess sighed softly, then nodded. “Follow your own path from here. Send word if you learn anything important.”
This is it, truly.
While his heart burned in his chest, just like logs in the hearth, there was also an unprecedented lightness in being liberated. Now he was no longer obligated to serve as her right hand. Someone else would do this going forward, and it meant he could choose his own course for the first time in his life. Freedom had a sweet and inviting ring, no matter what awaited him outside these walls.
Gavriel rose, ready to end this meeting. There was nothing further to say. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“When are you leaving?” She stood with him, acting as if she would walk him to the door.
A flare of irritation, when he considered that he would be traveling with the woman least likely to give him any peace. “As soon as the tiger woman is ready.”
“Then be safe.” Princess Thalia offered a smile, the studied one she presented on difficult occasions, so perhaps this wasn’t easy for her, either.
But she’d chosen her path and it led away from him. Gavriel inclined his head. “You as well.”
At the door, she paused to ask, “Could you do me one last favor?”
“What is it?” Wariness sharpened his voice. This better not be some final mission. He was done following her orders.
“Recommend your successor of the two who returned with you from Hallowell.”
That was easy enough. “Ferith, definitely. She has the most experience. Tirael is too young and is impulsive in the bargain. Was that all?”
“Yes, thank you. Take care, Gavriel.”
6.
Mags met Gavriel at the gates just after first light, all her belongings slung over one shoulder. The sky was heavy with charcoal clouds, the sun only a flutter of faint brightness. She smelled rain or snow in the air, but it wouldn’t come for a while yet. The worst of the storm was still well out to sea, beyond the cliff that guarded Daruvar.
“Are you ready?” Gavriel asked.
“Yeah. I already talked to Raff.” Not for long, admittedly.
She’d been curt in her leave-taking, partly because she felt guilty. After all, she’d used the wolf lord as a cover to go hunting for Slay, hoping to keep the worst of the scandal out of the wind. If times weren’t so uncertain, people would be talking more, discussing the decline of Ash Valley.
The gray vedda beast was tethered nearby, and Gavriel mounted up. “Are you running or riding?”
That was unexpected, almost like an invitation. “Riding, if you don’t mind. I should conserve my energy until we get to the most recent site and I need to start tracking.”
“Would it stop you if I declined?” he asked with a touch of bitterness.
Fair question, since she’d done as she pleased to bait him since her arrival. “We’re partners now, and I don’t plan to piss you off on purpose anymore.”
She waited, eyes on his, until he reached out a black-gloved hand, the first time he’d done anything like that. Though she didn’t need help to climb up behind him, she allowed the pull and settled in, feeling like things had shifted a little. They were both dressed in black, layered against the early spring chill.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Before she could respond, he called, “Open the gate!” and the guards on the wall complied. As they rode out, Gavriel added, “Don’t use me as a napping station this time.”
Mags quelled a smile. “Did that bother you?”
He made a faint sound of annoyance, one that wouldn’t be caught by an Eldritch passenger. “What do you think?”
“Since you brought it up, yes. I guess you’re not used to being somebody’s bed.”
He shot her a baleful look over one shoulder. “That is possibly the most nonsensical statement anyone has made in my hearing.”
“Really? You should spend more time with Raff.”
“Pass,” Gavriel said at once, and when Mags laughed, she felt him relax a little in the saddle.
Not enough to let his back touch her front, but she saw his shoulders drop. Physical contact wasn’t a big deal among the Animari, but he made her feel self-conscious about it, like she needed to calculate the value of every touch. Mags took care not to lean against him as they rode, bracing herself with hands behind her instead.
It was strange to think that they’d be relying on each other for a while. Nobody from Ash Valley even knew where she was, and Raff had his own problems. She couldn’t expect backup from her pride and there wouldn’t be an assist coming from Pine Ridge either, if things went sideways out here. Mags didn’t trust Gavriel, and she was sure he felt the same, but as long as he didn’t flip first, she’d respect the truce.
“He’s not that bad,” she said. “You just hate him because he’s marrying your perfect, dream princess.”
“Don’t talk about Princess Thalia,” he snapped.
“If you go around showing your weak spots that way, it’s like asking somebody to poke at them. I’ll teach you how to be inscrutable. I’m really good at it.”
Gavriel shot her another malevolent look, before quickly gazing forward again. “I’ll have you know that—never mind. Why am I even talking to someone like you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mags jabbed her thumbs into his spine, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. Or so she thought.
He jerked and twisted, making a strange sound. “Stop it at once!”
“Does that tickle?” She tested her theory by digging her fingers into his back and he exploded with incredulous, infuriated laughter, flinging himself forward to avoid her hands. “Oh shit, you’re so ticklish. I’m selling this information to the highest bidder. Which of your enemies will it be, I wonder?”
“I despise you,” he said, catching his breath. “And all my enemies are dead.”
Mags smirked as she pulled her hands away. “I’m right here.”
“You are not my enemy. At the moment. We’re allies, remember? But if you tell anyone about this, I will reconsider our status. You do not want that.”
“I’m terrified,” she mocked.
“You should be. Why aren’t you?” He sounded honestly perplexed, which brought a reluctant, sincere smile to her face.
“You’re not my bogeyman, Gavriel. The only thing you could do is hurt me physically and I heal too fast to care about that.”
“Does that mean you’ve been hurt emotionally?”
Her smile faded, weight settling in her chest as bad memories tried to surface. She tried to play it off, glad he couldn’t see her face. “Hasn’t everyone?”
Mags didn’t want to talk about what she’d heard from Arran, the first time she went to see him about a prospective mate. Not with Gavriel, not with anyone. And she didn’t want to think about it, either. She’d made peace with the fact that she had to live her life in the shallows. Terrible things would happen if she got in deep with anyone; she wouldn’t make that mistake ever again.
“True enough. I’ve input our coordinates and we should reach the site in a couple of hours, if we don’t encounter trouble.”
“It sounds like you wouldn’t mind,” Mags pointed out.
Gavriel hesitated. They rode for a few moments in silence as the vedda beast carried them deeper into the forest. Finally, he answered, “Violence solves nothing, but sometimes the adrenaline reminds me…”
“That you’re alive?” Whatever he thought, the Noxblade was easy to read.
Still, he tilted his head as if he was surprised by her acuity. “Exactly. But it might bode better for our mission if we didn’t encounter trouble so close to Daruvar.”
“We already know there are enemies creeping inside the border. The attack, while we were hunting, spoke to that.”
“True enough. I’ll stay sharp.”
“You always are,” she said.
“Is that a compliment? Flattery has no impact on me.”
“Just an observation. From what I�
�ve seen, you live on high alert. That must be fucking exhausting.”
“I suppose. I don’t remember how to do anything else,” Gavriel responded.
That struck Mags as sad. Even she could relax when she was among friends in Ash Valley. Right now, not so much, but he should have been at ease in Daruvar. “There’s nobody who helps you relax or makes you feel at home?”
“They’re all dead now.” His flat tone warned her not to push.
Not to ask about his brother, Oriel, who died at the retreat, not to mention Zan either, the Noxblade who sacrificed himself to save Hallowell. Gavriel was one raw wound, and someone with a softer heart than Mags might have wanted to console him. For an instant, she let herself consider the possibility; she could wrap her arms around his lean waist and rest her head against his back, hold on until he relaxed. But that wasn’t her style, even among her own pride. Instead, she let the sentence stand as a wall between them, one that discouraged further conversation until they got closer to the campsite.
They rode for over an hour in silence, and she was starting to stiffen up when the bare trees yielded to a small clearing. “We’re here,” she said.
Mags didn’t wait for him to rein in the vedda beast, just dropped off the back with the agility that made her a dangerous foe when combined with her great strength. The weather had been kind while Raff recovered, or she might not have been able to pick up Slay’s traces after so long. A cursory check assured her that there was still a path to follow and she struck a victory pose.
“Still viable?” Gavriel asked.
Mags nodded. “I’ll go cat from here. Is your mount okay for a bit longer?”
“He’s fine right now, and if he tires, I’ll run. Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep up with you.” Gavriel’s grim expression suggested that he would, or he’d die in the attempt.
As Mags stripped and shifted, she had the unsettling thought that might be true.
Gavriel was starting to enjoy watching the tiger woman’s transformation.
That realization aggravated him. He still hadn’t worked out exactly how it happened, and it was so fast that his brain couldn’t process the change. She prowled the site, digging here and there with razor-sharp claws. Soon she’d unearthed more discarded bandages. Their quarry must be injured seriously, as Animari wounds tended to heal quickly, or perhaps they were torturing the Ash Valley second for information. Gavriel wondered if that possibility had occurred to her.
He knelt, collecting her discarded clothing, and as he crammed her things into a bag, he scowled. The tiger met his gaze with golden, unblinking eyes, then she tipped her head, silently asking if he was ready. That had to mean she’d locked onto the trail.
Nodding, Gavriel mounted up. His vedda beast remained steady despite proximity to a dangerous predator, responding to a flick of the reins. Magda was careful in choosing her path, staying to ground open enough that he could follow without getting slapped in the face with a rebounding branch. Honestly, it was more consideration than he would’ve expected.
Half an hour after they left the campsite, Magda stopped. Gavriel started to ask if she’d lost their prey, but she sent him a sharp look that demanded silence. He closed his mouth and waited, dismounting in case she’d scented an enemy.
He held still and listened, finding the woods eerily silent. And that was precisely the problem. There should have been some noise from the wildlife, unless they were frightened by the tiger woman. It was possible, he supposed, but not likely. From what he’d seen traveling with other Animari, they registered outside the usual predatory chain, and they didn’t alarm the local fauna unless they were actively hunting, as Sheyla had done for the Golgoth prince on the way to Hallowell.
He didn’t hear the enemy as much as sense them, a cold prickle on his spine that drove him to draw his knives and spin, narrowly avoiding a blade in the back. Five opponents, all Eldritch. They weren’t wearing house symbols or colors, but from their robotic movements, they were on the same stuff that the attackers from House Manwaring had taken. None of them spoke as they rushed. They didn’t have guns or heavy weapons, so they must be a recon team, possibly the remainder of the one that failed to exterminate Princess Thalia and Raff Pineda.
Three of them went after the tiger, which might have offended Gavriel, if he wasn’t already fighting for his life. These Eldritch were lightning fast and incredibly strong. He blocked a strike that rocked him back, numbing his arm to the elbow as the second foe charged. He barely dodged that attack, using a tree to cover his retreat.
From that better vantage, he rolled and struck low, eviscerating the first opponent in a smooth strike. That left him open to another hit and he simply took the wound and tumbled backward to keep the dagger in his shoulder. Now the other enemy was unarmed, not that it seemed to trouble her. Her eyes were dead, blank as an untouched page. She ran at him with complete disregard for her own well-being. Gavriel kicked her ankle, her knee, and when she stumbled, he cut her throat. Dark, viscous blood stained the earth and the dry leaves, leaking out of her so slowly that it seemed to be made of treacle. Winded, he turned to see how Magda was doing.
She stood in a circle of bodies, claws stained dark. As he watched, she pawed one and then cocked her head. Gavriel thought he knew what she was asking.
“They’re the same as the others. You said they’re on an Animari drug?” When she nodded, he let out an angry breath. “I don’t like what it does to my people. They act like the living dead.”
Magda nodded again, and he wondered if that could be true. That was absurd, wasn’t it? Briefly, he imagined a whole army of these silent, relentless warriors and his flesh crawled. Perhaps he was worrying before he had all the facts, but they’d run into two parties using the same drug in less than a week. Though that hinted at a widespread problem, he’d make damn sure of his facts before he reported this threat to Princess Thalia.
This is exactly why I asked to be released from the princess’s service.
“I’ll search the bodies,” he said then.
Magda took a step back, giving him access to her kills. The first two corpses he examined yielded nothing of interest, not even currency or identification, but the third one carried a peculiar obsidian stone with a sigil carved into it.
He held it to the light, then showed it to Magda. “Ever seen anything like this before?” he asked.
Yes or no questions should be fine while she was shifted. She studied it, then shook her head, ears swiveling. Her whiskers twitched, then she padded over to the two he’d defeated.
He checked the bodies quickly and found a small, bloodstained picture of Princess Thalia. If there had been anything more specific, he would have sent a warning, even if the channel wasn’t secure, but the princess already knew she was a target and he had no new information to convey. That was simply confirmation that she had enemies, and they’d known that since long before her father turned traitor and allied with a power-mad despot.
Grimly, he crumpled the photo in his fist and then tore it into pieces, giving the remainder to the wind. He had closed that door before he left Daruvar. Next, he got some supplies from his pack and removed the dagger from his shoulder with a wince. The wound wasn’t too deep; he bandaged it quickly. If the blade had been poisoned, he must be inured to the effects.
Magda studied him, and he was glad that her tiger form prevented her from commenting so he could understand. Her silence felt almost like a balm because it gave him peace, but he also wasn’t alone, as he had been for much of his adult life. Novel not to be stalking in solitary silence, avoiding detection and sliding away like a ghost.
“I’m ready,” he said, mounting up.
She set off at a faster pace than before, and they barely reached a new campsite before nightfall. His vedda beast was tired, moving slower and with a recalcitrance that said he’d pushed the animal hard enough. If she didn’t suggest they rest here, he would.
As Gavriel dismounted and scattered some fodder for the gr
ay, Magda prowled the perimeter, checking signs he couldn’t detect. Then she shifted and calmly walked past him to fetch her clothes. It was impossible not to notice the smooth play of muscles beneath her skin, the way her impressive deltoids flexed when she lifted the bag. Her shoulders were broad, her build stocky, and he had never beheld such a strong, round butt.
I shouldn’t be looking.
He didn’t look away.
“We’ll catch a few winks here,” she told him as she got dressed.
“My thoughts as well. Is this one of the sites they used?” Gavriel didn’t see a need to be more specific. They both knew who they were hunting.
“I think so, but I didn’t find any sign of Slay’s blood. No bandages this time. So…”
“He’s healed or they got the information they wanted, no further need for torture,” he finished.
She lifted a shoulder in half a shrug. “As guesses go, it’s a good one. If they’d discarded him along the route, however, I would have found the dump site.”
“They have some use for him, if they haven’t killed him.”
“Or he’s collaborating.”
The open pain in her expression startled him, making Gavriel take a step forward, though, for what, he had no idea. Offering comfort was alien to him, and he’d been reared with the expectation that he would hide his emotions and desires; if he let them slip, it would shame the guild and besmirch his honor. A Noxblade wanted nothing but the next kill order, nothing but the next successful strike.
For the first time, it occurred to him that this was a terrible way to live.
7.
Mags stared at Gavriel, wondering at his conflicted expression. Normally, he showed only enmity or hostility. He extended a hand, then let it drop, and whatever was on his mind, he didn’t speak of it. His shoulders squared, his features reverting to his usual impassivity.
“We should set up camp,” he said, tying the vedda beast to a tree where the snow had melted enough to offer some forage.
Mags normally wouldn’t have bothered, but she didn’t think the Noxblade would be willing to curl up with her and share body heat. A pity, since that would be the most practical solution. She couldn’t blame him, however, since he didn’t have the fur or sufficient body weight to resist the elements as she did.