Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 (13 page)

Envisioning how it must have played out for Isabeau came easy to him.

Her master demanded an heir. She provided him with one, by choice or by force. Then her master’s wife used the old “we can’t risk someone noticing our daughter resembles your mistress” line in the hopes of ridding herself of Isabeau while ensuring a scandal-free succession.

But there was a problem. Isabeau wouldn’t fork over her kid. She fought them for custody.

Then the news broke that Askaran slaves had been freed. Isabeau wouldn’t have hesitated. She’d have grabbed the girl and run. After hiding her daughter in a secure location, she went to work for Emma at the consulate in the safest place for an ex-slave—under the new consul’s protection.

His scenario also explained why she’d never accepted placement. She took the position of resident healer as well as Emma’s personal assistant, in addition to other duties she performed to keep the consulate running smoothly. It was a lot of work with little pay and even less gratitude.

Yeah, this fit his idea of Isabeau. Hiding in plain sight, waiting until the stars aligned, or in this case, Emma and Harper reconciled. Pure salt worth a small fortune was in easy reach. The promise of true freedom for her and her daughter loomed. While his theory had plenty of room for holes, and it still didn’t excuse her actions, it did cast her motives into a more favorable light.

When the pain spiked again and his vision wavered, Dillon asked himself at what point he’d begun preparing her a defense against Harper. Then he decided he probably didn’t want to know.

Chapter Eight

Hunched behind Dillon’s back, I hid my face from the sun while I inhaled clean sweat and stubborn male. After deeming me a flight risk, which was ridiculous considering he was the one with wings, he had mounted Diani and ordered me to climb up behind him. I supposed my poor horsemanship might be the reason he demanded I ride with him. Horses were expensive, and I’d already lost one.
Lost
wasn’t the right word, but I would rather be embarrassed than explain myself.

Our mare picked her way across the dunes without complaint. Dillon was even less vocal unless he was barking orders.
Wrap your arms around my waist. Don’t thumb the ridges of my stomach. Stop humming.
He expected me to ride in perfect quiet, but my nerves were strung taut.

For whatever reason, he wanted my company. I’d tried convincing him that, as a criminal, I deserved to be locked up at the colony. The look he’d turned on me when I suggested one of the other legionaries could guard me had made me shiver. Was he so possessive of all his prisoners?

I somehow thought not.

Perhaps I was special because of my ties to Emma. I considered he might still believe I had an accomplice and I could bargain with him better than Dillon could. Though if he believed I had been abandoned on purpose, I didn’t see how he thought my presence would help. More than likely, he feared what might become of me if I were left at the mercy of the males I’d taunted with my choice of outfit. I picked at my top and wished for a change of clothes.

Dillon’s voice drifted over his shoulder. “Hold still.”

“Sorry.” I rested my forehead against his back and shut my eyes.

He wiggled in his seat. “Can you not do that?”

“What exactly can I do? I’m not to touch you, talk to you or entertain myself. What’s left?”

“Sit still and keep an eye out,” he groused. “We have a horse to find and two sets of eyes are better than one.” He glanced left. “There’s an oasis a day’s ride from here. I bet she heads there.”

“She’s been out in this heat without water, are you sure we shouldn’t be looking for…?”

“A body?” Laughter rumbled through his back as he assured me. “Tessa is Nisean. She can go three or four days without water even out here. She’ll be fine until we catch up with her.” He paused as if debating before adding, “She was one of Harper’s souvenirs from our trip to Rihos.”

I struggled for what I should say. Because of my involvement with Roland, I had heard his story and Emma’s version of events. I worried I would cross the two and make a worse mess if I spoke with Dillon and heard a third accounting. I knew what I needed to know about those days.

Roland had lied to Emma, used her to lure Harper to the castle. Salt rights had been what he wanted. The Nisean horses Dillon had mentioned were a specialized breed, and they were the signature breed of the Bernhard family. While the progesaline found in salt was a necessary supplement to demon females, mares required no such fortification. Roland had discovered that by dosing them with the false hormone, they would go into heat. Then it was a simple matter of breeding them so they foaled together. He had used the salt to turn a natural cycle into a business solution. He used salt that could have saved countless females’ lives to aid his breeding program.

If not for my familiarity with his excess, I would have been appalled. The safest topic for me to pursue was one avoiding Roland and his horses, not to mention all talk of that particular event.

“I remember Emma mentioning the horses,” I said. “I met the other, a gray one, I think.” I couldn’t recall. After so many months, the details weren’t important. “Aldrich hitched him to the sled he used to deliver you to me, but I didn’t get a good look.” Dillon had been my only concern at the time. “I had other priorities, Emma’s safety and saving the leg of a certain stubborn male.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, “Did I ever thank you for that?”

“It’s my job,” I answered truthfully. “You don’t have to thank me for doing it.”

He grunted. “I figured you’d say something like that.”

“What was I supposed to say? That you were the worst patient I’d ever had? That you tore your stitches four times in the first week because you refused to lay still and heal? Or that you—”

“Emma was right.” I heard amusement in his voice. “You don’t pull punches, do you?”

“You don’t know that I was going to say something negative.”

“Judging by the list you were rattling off, I figured it was a safe assumption.” He lasted a full minute before he cracked. “I’ll probably regret asking you, but what were you going to say?”

I pinched his side for his comment, and he jolted, earning an irritated snort from Diani.

He patted her side awkwardly. To me, he asked, “You were saying?”

“Hmm?” I patted Diani in apology as well. “I forgot.”

“Isabeau…” He warned.

To our left, a dark blur caught my eye. “Did you see that?” I strained for another glimpse.

Dillon twisted so his line of sight merged with mine. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I thought I saw…something dark. I’m not sure. It was gone too fast for me to tell.”

“It could have been a mirage.” He bared his teeth. “No such luck. We’ve got company.”

My arms tightened around his waist. “Do you think raiders followed us from the colony?”

“I’m not sure.” He gave the mare a solid pat. “Harper’s going to be pissed, but we’ve got to shake whoever’s on our tail.” He dug his heels into her sides, and she broke into a run. My eyes burned as she kicked up sand that caught on the wind and pelted my face. I managed to pry my eyes open in time to realize that he was right. The blur was back, and this time he wasn’t alone.

Five Evanti glided over the sand heading straight for us. Their dark skin gleamed, and their ruddy wings spanned the horizon. Their V-shaped formation made spotting their leader easy. He lifted his arm and pointed at me as he led their charge. I leaned into Dillon. “What’s happening?”

“If I had to guess,” he said on a growl, “I’d say some of your admirers from the colony decided they wanted to pay you an unsupervised visit. They’re in a perfect formation. That’s not good. It means they have experience hunting together.” He urged Diani harder. “Not good at all.”

“What are we going to do?” I raised my voice to be heard, and he shushed me. Pressing my lips together, I kept my questions to myself. I understood why he didn’t answer, the others might hear, and we had enough problems. No matter how hard Diani ran, she couldn’t match the males’ long wing strokes. We were losing ground, and they were gaining faster than Diani could recover.

My heart sped and my palms tingled. Though I was still drained, useless without the grimoire to borrow from, fear lent me strength. Looking for stronger mooring than his shirt, I grasped Dillon’s belt and held tight. Then I brought my other hand around and watched as sparks ignited in my palm. Dangerous to use magic when I had so little, but a dead priestess had no use for her spells at all. Stealing a quick glance at the leader of the hunt, I decided he was my target.

Twisting in the saddle, I flung my arm toward the male. Energy sizzled, seared my hand but never left it. I gasped as my skin burned and magic fizzled in the breeze. A cruel smile from the leader was my reward. He had seen my attempt—and my failure.

Word of what I’d done to Mason and the other legionnaire must have spread. I saw now he had hung back out of range until my display gave him all the proof he required. Yes, I had power, but my reservoir was tapped. I had been emptied. Now he knew it too and pressed his advantage.

“They’re gaining on us.” My hand stung too much for me to grip Dillon. I settled for wrapping my arm around him and applying pressure. He grunted. I must have squeezed too hard.

“Hold what you’ve got.” He grunted again, this time as he reined in Diani and sent her into a spin. In a flash, we had turned and now we were the aggressors. We raced toward the males and forced them higher. So many wings in so small an air space made for awkward turning. Two of them collided and hit the sand with a groan. While they shook sand from their ears, the other three swooped over our heads. Fingers stroked the ends of my hair, tugging, tangling. I hid my face hard against Dillon to keep from turning and seeing how close we were to losing this race.

Thunderous beats filled my ears. The horse’s hooves, the flap of leather wings, the pounding of my crazed heart and the echo of Dillon’s where I burrowed as close to him as I could manage. I let his presence calm me. Everything was fine as long as he was here. He would keep me safe.

The tug at my scalp became more insistent. I yelped as a large hand palmed my skull and my head was ripped from the safety of Dillon’s back to stare into the silver eyes of the group’s leader. With a grin, he used his hold to peel me backwards while the second male clasped my arm and ripped it free of Dillon’s belt. The third grabbed my leg. Together, they heaved upward.

Dillon reached for me, clawed air and caught my necklace. I cried out as the chain snapped.

Air whistled around me. Hands groped and dug into my skin. I screamed when claws pierced my arms and the hooks on their feet dug in, holding me immobile so they could fly without fear I would ground them. Squirming, I struggled until I spotted Dillon. He was a dot on the sand. A dark male sitting upon a pale horse, and both were fast becoming miniatures to me.

I heard him bellow my name. The air surrounding him shimmered, his glamour fading, and I was awed. Enormous crimson wings arched over his shoulders. His pale skin was ebony and his eyes gleamed, reflective. For a moment, I thought I saw…but he was too far away. Kicking and scratching, I landed enough hits my captors exchanged a glance. I read it an instant before they released me. Desert raced at my face. I twisted midair and curled into a ball that broke on impact.

Throaty laughter tugged at my consciousness. My eyes blinked open on a small room lit by the single candle flickering in its holder. My wrists ached, not the dull throb of my slave bands but a more physical pain. I wanted to rub the grit from my face, but when I pulled my arm, chains rattled. Shadows concealed my bonds, but a strong tug rewarded me with a metallic rattle.

I tried my legs next only to realize I was kneeling and had been for so long I couldn’t feel my legs or feet. I was bound to the wall, in the dark, with only a flame’s eerie dance to preoccupy me from the sounds of males conversing outside my cell. Their voices blended into a low murmur, punctuated by glee.

I could guess the source of their happiness.

I tugged my arms again and was rewarded with a fresh slice of discomfort.

Pinprick pain in my limbs made me shuffle in search of a comfortable position. I found none. Funny how I’d been dozing happily, but now that I was awake, all my muscles screamed in protest. I struggled. I couldn’t help it. Chains clanged and a hush settled over the chortling males.

“Now you’ve done it,” a soft voice, feminine, I thought, said to my right.

I started. “Who’s there?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She slipped into silence.

Somewhere ahead of me a doorknob rattled. I made a mental note of its location. “Who’s there?” I shrank from the light flooding the small room and slid a glance toward my companion. Amid a tangle of black hair, dark eyes peered out at me. Delicate wings wrapped around her body but left enough exposed for me to tell she was nude and she was very pregnant. I flinched.

“I wondered when you were going to wake.” A male entered the room. He stared down at me. “Neriah has been reprimanded for allowing his unit to drop you. For that, I do apologize. He overreacted. We had heard you had some skill with glamour, so your fall did serve a purpose. Clearly, your powers are either not what we had been told or you’re too drained to use them.”