Messenger (Guardian Trilogy Prequel 1) (20 page)

As Eran dragged us farther from the Kohlers, and Horace’s only chance at safety, he caught my eye.

I darted mine at the trees, insisting on getting closer. But I had no intention of using them as our weapon. We already had one.

Eran diverted his path, rushing at the trunks that lined the grounds like soldiers ready for battle, coming close enough to skim them.

Holding out my hand, I felt Eran slow and I held tight to the axe’s handle. As our pace decreased, Horace’s struggling increased.

By the time my arm jolted backward and Kaila’s wooden axe made contact with a mossy tree trunk, Horace slipped from our grasp. Just as the axe slid around a tree’s trunk, leaving a sharp, shattered point in my hand, Horace plummeted to the ground.

Eran dropped just as swiftly.

Horace was still crawling to a stand and finding his bearings when Eran collided with him. Horace was sent sprawling across the forest floor, sending out a spray of dead leaves and clumps of moist dirt. As he and Eran struggled, I looked for an opening and when I found it, I sent the jagged wood handle into Horace, directly through his throat.

Horace’s writhing slowed. His arms sank to his sides. His jaw went limp. His eyes became hollow. His appendages drooped and slid back into his body.

Only then did Eran unwrap his arms from Horace’s chest, allowing the weight of the lifeless body to pull it to the ground.

Eran’s movement was so swift I lost track of it but found his hands against my cheeks a second later.

Anxious and breathless, he asked, “Are you hurt?”

I would have shaken my head but didn’t want to disturb his hands on my skin. “I’m fine.”

Eran evaluated me again before releasing me. When he did, instinct made me confirm that Horace was gone.

A pool of blood circled his head and neck, tinting the black dirt with streaks of red.

“What was his crime?” I asked.

“His victims were found staked.”

I looked once more at the wood stick, now soaked in red, protruding from Horace’s neck. “Then he got what he deserved.”

“Yes, he did,” Eran assured, tenderly touching my arm on his way to the cliff we happened to land near.

From the edge, he announced, “The Kohlers are gone.”

I stepped up beside him, searching the horizon as he was doing. “Smart of them, really.”

Eran chuckled. “Especially with you around. Where did you learn to think so fast on your feet?”

I gave him my most sincere smirk. “Training.”

Catching on to the fact I was referencing the very practices he had shunned as not being effective enough, he rolled his head back and released a bellowing laugh. When he was finished, he found me gazing out across the horizon, straight-faced.

“It’s done, Eran. The messengers are safe,” I said, taking one more look at Horace, who now existed only in a pool of his own blood.

A wave of relief washed over me, the kind that allowed the body to breathe easier and to remove the tension from the neck and shoulders. For the first time since I’d arrived, I saw the beauty of the land below us, covered in rolling green hills, lush trees, and a winding river that seemed to be made of jewels. It was almost as perfect as the feeling of burden lifting from shoulders. But it was short-lived.

“We will see, Magdalene,” Eran replied cautiously. “Only time will tell.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: ARRIVAL

“
I
T’S SAFE TO LOOK AT ME,”
Eran called out, humor clearly present in his suggestion.

After dropping Horace’s body in the same bog as Cedric’s, we returned to the river to wash Horace’s existence off us. Eran was now in the water, his curly brown hair dripping streams of water down his contoured chest, and causing me to fight myself over taking a peek.

“Magdalene,” he said firmly. “You can trust me.”

That I knew. It was me who I didn’t trust, not after what had happened the last time I sat on the rock overlooking the river.

Sure enough, as my gaze moved his way, my eyes took on a life of their own, dropping to the lower parts of his body. The sun cast shadows from above down his chest, carving out peaks and valleys where his lean muscles protruded, and his stomach was taut, forming a V that disappeared into the water.

He noticed and that arrogant smirk of satisfaction showed itself.

“Do you take everything casually?” I asked, somewhat perturbed.

“Until I’m not able to, yes.”

I groaned and he changed the subject.

“How many times have you felt the panic?”

“Why?” With my interest piqued, I was able to lock onto his face without the pull of what was below.

“Because we’ve just learned that it’s not limited to the Kohlers.” Noting my reaction, he added, “Yes, Magdalene, I saw it. He was affected by you and you by him. I saw it when he arrived and the goose bumps on his arms worsened the closer he got to you. And when…,” he paused to glare at the memory, “when you were locked in his arms, I saw you taking deep breaths. Which means it could extend to all of your enemies. And if so, it’ll be a remarkable way to detect and avoid them.”

“Are you suggesting I avoid a confrontation with them?”

“If the opportunity allows.”

I scoffed. “I thought you had gotten to know me, Eran.”

“That’s why I’m bringing it up in conversation,” he said frowning. “I doubt you’ve ever considered it before.”

“I haven’t.”

Nodding his head with resigned frustration, he looked away.

“I can fight,” I declared.

“I know you can. I’ve seen it.”

“And Horace didn’t seem so challenging, despite being one of their most violent.”

“That’s because he was waiting for the Kohlers to take the first strike.”

Knowing he was correct, I fell silent.

The water sloshed, drawing my attention, and I noted him moving closer to me. My excitement flared and I tensed at the prospect of what he had in mind but he stopped directly in front of me, at the same river depth.

“I’m breaching this subject with you, Magdalene, because if you are capable of sending
all
of your enemies to eternal death, then you will be in greater danger than you’ve ever imagined.”

He waited patiently for me to respond, unmoving in his will to impress upon me the risks I would face. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Only then did he begin his walk out of the water.

I wrenched my head to the side as he did and braced myself as I heard his feet slap against the compressed sand on his way up the bank. From there, he did what he always had, stretching himself along the rocks to dry in the sun.

I hoped he didn’t detect my reaction, but his next question made me realize he had.

“So, in the seventeen years you lived on this earth…” he began but thought better of it.”No, never mind.”

“What?” I asked, still refusing to look.

“It’s…It’s not something I should ask.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your…”

“What? My guardian?” I said, unwilling to continue to ignore his belief.

He groaned in frustration. “I never lack this much focus around others,” he muttered to himself.

“Does that mean you can’t recall the question you were going to ask?” I prodded, only half teasing. “Or are you declining to repeat it because you think of yourself as my guardian?”

Averse to answering those questions, he reverted to his previous one. This time he did it unashamed and without hesitating. “In your seventeen years here, did you find anyone who you were interested in as more than a friend?”

Suddenly regretting that I pushed the subject, I asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“And that,” he mumbled, “is the reason I shouldn’t be asking.”

I felt like there was a hidden meaning to his answer. I also had the distinct feeling that we were once more infringing on the responsibilities of a guardian-ward relationship and had to remind myself that we weren’t designated for each other.

“No.”
No one like you
, I thought. “Have you found anyone you were interested in as more than a friend?”

His reply was unwavering, unashamed, and unremorseful, and it would have brought me to my knees if I hadn’t already been sitting. “Yes, I have.”

It was as if he wanted me to have no doubt in my mind about it, that he wanted me to be as certain about it as he was. And that stung because it meant his heart was indisputably taken.

“You said once that emotions make a person sloppy.”

“They do.”

“And yet you opened your heart to someone.”

“I did.” By the sound of his voice I was almost certain he was watching me.

“I see…,” I said, wondering why my heart was sinking. “She must be special.”

He laughed under his breath. “You have no idea…”

I wondered if she knew how lucky she was to have Eran’s attention.

“I didn’t expect to be interested in someone,” he continued, “not after spending seventeen years looking for you on earth-”

Interrupting out of shock, I blurted, “You spent seventeen years looking for me?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, “crossing several large territories in my search from one rumored messenger to the next.”

“Is that how you picked up your accent?” I asked, although my mind was still partly on the girl who had captured his heart.

“It is.”

“What’s she like?” I asked suddenly and noticed the long pause before he answered.

“The girl? Feisty, hard to get along with, sensitive but she would never admit it, has more courage than I’ve ever seen in any man, and beautiful, strikingly beautiful.”

It was then and there I finally acknowledged that, as hard as I’d tried, as much denial as I’d put into it, I had feelings for Eran. It was the fact I had to swallow back unfathomable grief while listening to him talk about the girl who had captivated him, who made his voice soften at the thought of her, and who he so clearly longed for.

“I’m-I’m sorry you can’t be with her.”

Another lengthy pause followed as he contemplated what I’d said. What came after it was a profound sadness in his reply. “Me too, Magdalene.”

And the pain struck again.

How did this happen?
I had been diligent in protecting my emotions. I was acutely aware of his charm and how others were drawn to it, and I thought I had protected myself. I had denied it every opportunity to find any way in, and yet there I sat cold despite the sun realizing that it had.

“You should have told me who you were in the Hall of Records,” he said, rattling my thoughts.

“That I was a messenger? On what grounds? You had already chosen a ward.” My answer sounded harsher than I would have liked and I tried to remind myself to compose my voice.

“That didn’t make you any less guilty, and you knew it.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Your face,” he said flatly. “I saw it in your face, Magdalene.”

I closed my eyes against the humiliation.

The rustle of his clothes told me that he was dressing now.

“Magdalene,” he said, this time with kindness added to the firmness of his tone.

When I didn’t respond, he pressed, “Magdalene, will you look at me?”

I sighed, unwilling but doing it anyways.

He sat bent forward, his elbows on his knees, his head dipped to be level with mine. He still hadn’t put on his shirt.

There was tenderness in his expression and patience in his approach. “Why do you think I evaluated you when you began your training sessions? Did you consider I might have had more critical responsibilities? Did you take into account I might have a reason for delegating them?”

I remembered back to Daniel explaining that Eran never acted recklessly, every move he made was with reason. And that point had certainly been proven since I’d met him.

“Yes,” I said, “I did consider it.”

“And what are your theories on why I stayed?”

I wanted to tell him that I wanted it to have been because of me, that I yearned for it. But what was the point in that? He was already taken. Instead, my reply was to a different argument. “We don’t need your help.”

He didn’t speak for a drawn out moment. “What do you think I said to my ward the moment I learned you were a messenger? What do you think we talked about?”

He stared at me, and I knew his mind was churning. “You,” he finally said. “I told her that another messenger needed me. That the messenger was in grave danger and that I would be assigning another guardian to take my position.”

I knew that I had been the one being discussed and the confirmation of it sent a tension into my limbs.

“You need me, Magdalene, more than you know.”

I had a fairly clear idea how much I needed him except that it was for exactly opposing reasons.