Protector of the Flame (28 page)

He caught up to her, wrapping an arm around her neck, and kissed her cheek. “That actually hurt. I’m sorry, but I had to leave to clear my head.”

The arrogance to assume his absence was the only reason for the punch. She pushed his arm away and considered hitting him again.

He mocked her frown. “Cheer up. I’ll always come back. I’ll never stay away from you for long.”

That both titillated and terrified her.

The way he’d used his gift to coerce her into a compromising position should’ve left her outraged. Yet it was impossible to stay mad at him for long.

Unnatural.

She needed him to believe her anger was as real as it should’ve been. “I’m not happy with you.”

“Really? Because the smile you first gave me says otherwise.”

She stopped and slapped him. It pained her heart more than her hand to wipe the smugness from his face.

A tether that could turn into a leash.

She had missed him, was entirely too happy to have him back, and was shamefully drawn to him beyond reason, but Adriel was dangerous. “Neith told me what you did to me.”

He ushered her to a corner away from the historians, who now stared. “Forgive my weakness.” He lowered his voice. “I will never compel you again. I give my word. Please believe me.”

She wanted to believe him, to trust him as she had before, but the truth was she couldn’t trust herself near him. She was another person around him, one who jeopardized the most important thing in the world, the heart of her
kabashem
.

“I came back because I couldn’t bear to be away any longer, but I know the line.” He straightened his posture, body stiffening. “I know my place. I would die before putting you in that position again. I am your brother and will act as such. Please, don’t deny me your friendship.”

She searched herself for any strange tug on her will. There was none. Friends were in short supply in her life, always had been. She valued his friendship and still hoped one might be possible. “Brother and sister. Nothing more.”

Obvious relief broke in a wide smile. “Nothing more.”

“But we need space, Adriel.”

Lines riddled his brow. He was probably just as confused as she was at how to achieve distance on an island, but he nodded in agreement. The resolution was quick, easy. She wanted to relax, but something in her gut wouldn’t let her.

No matter what, she vowed to focus on the one true thing in her heart and do anything to preserve her love for Cyrus.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Where do you work today?” his
kabashem
asked.

“Harvesting silkworms.” Cyrus put his elbow on the dining table, propping his head in his hand.

The start of the morning meal was a riot of activity, endless chatter, team leaders hustling to eat, the loud clatter of dishes.

“Sounds better than laundry or the orchard or the fields.”

Better wouldn’t come until they were off this forsaken island and at Herut where they belonged. He should be at Herut now to expedite things. Although Abbadon could be trusted to see the task done, it was taking too long.

This place had an ill effect. The lush oasis and all of its tropical trappings were changing them.

His mate had formed a peculiar friendship with Adriel that riled him to the bone. He didn’t want to be a tyrant dictating who she could socialize with and he told himself, there was really no need for concern. But…it ate at him, twisting his thoughts, stoking a fury in him he didn’t understand.

Serenity rubbed noses with him, scratching at his beard. “It’s still early. The sun is barely up.” She stroked his thigh, moving to his crotch. “We could go back upstairs for a bit.”

He wasn’t himself anymore. The menial tasks he was given should’ve been more an irritation than real work, yet he tired easily lately.

“There is no bit for us.” He yawned, removing her hand from his leg. “I get lost in the smell of you, the feel of your body, and all sense of time is washed away.” He raked fingers through her hair. “Neith said if I didn’t show up bright and early I would be put on nightshift somewhere.”

Always on edge and in need of rest, he was unable to find any. It was as though his energy stream had sprung a leak, sapping him to exhaustion. The only respite came in the absence of his mate when he connected to the collective, but at the same time he couldn’t stand to be separated from her. His days on Neith’s island were a constant torture. The only comfort came from knowing they were numbered.

Three individuals he didn’t recognize joined their table. A tall male with broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair and a wide chest sat in front of them, eyes cast toward the floor. A sprightly woman with a pixie hair cut flounced down. The third, a short and stocky warrior sat with a nod hello.

“Are you Cyrus and Serenity?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Serenity answered, caution spiking in their merged energy stream.

“We’ve only just returned and learned you were here. Forgive our curiosity. I am Iah, this is Lotharius—” she pointed to the stout warrior, “—and our team leader Atlas.”

Slowly, Atlas’s gaze lifted and their eyes met. Bloodstone eyes, malachite flecked with carnelian. They were so solemn and sublime they almost didn’t look real.

His
kabashem
squeezed his knee. “Can you see it with just a glance or is it by touch?”

“I can only see it by touch,” Atlas answered gently.

Cyrus yawned again. “See what?”

“Death,” Serenity said, not taking her gaze from Atlas.

One of Neith’s busy little library bees dashed into the dining hall. The most docile warrior he’d ever seen. He thought her name was Mira. She scanned the room and ran to their table. “News from Abbadon.”

Serenity and Cyrus leapt to their feet and hurried to the library. A white pigeon flew by them as they entered Neith’s office.

“Your Council has petitioned for an early convention of the Pesedjet. Sekhem has denied the petition on the grounds that any grievance can be heard at the next duly scheduled session.”

“Is that it?” Cyrus asked, his voice harsh with frustration. It had been weeks. He needed to be at Herut where he had the means to light a fire under Sekhem and Aten and force this issue to a speedy resolution.

“For now. They will toy with Herut, going back and forth with excuses until Abbadon finds one that sticks. It’ll take time. And time is what we need.”

“I have to send a message to Leta and Orazio, explaining my actions,” he said. “Better yet, I should return to Herut to handle this matter myself. They’ll need my vote anyway if an early session is called.”

“It’s been made clear you’re the property of Herut and shall return when it’s safe for you and your
kabashem
. Until then we must ensure my neutrality holds and your blood grievance heard. They shall be patient and you may give Abbadon your proxy.”

Jaw clenched, Cyrus stepped forward. He was done with subservient labor and following blind orders. He was done waiting and hiding, when he should be out fighting for their lives.

Serenity grabbed his forearm. “There are worse places to wait it out. These days together here could be our last. Perhaps we should be in less of a rush.”

There weren’t enough days in two lifetimes to spend with his
kabashem
. Hastening the end of them was the last thing he wanted. He turned to her, softening. “Easy to say when you work in the library.”

“Speaking of work, shouldn’t you be down at the silkworm hut?” Neith asked.

Cyrus glowered at the old sage. His hatred of her island and her rules flared anew.

Indignation raked their joined energy stream.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Serenity said, hoping to regain his attention.

He kissed her and left.

“Still sketching or ready to paint?”

“Still sketching.”

Settling into her position on the chaise, she picked up her children’s Latin book. Although Nakia had finished it before her sixth year, Serenity found her interest lacking. Neith closed her office door and held a remote control up to the wall behind her desk with the sword. A click of a button and the wall slid to the side to reveal flat screen monitors, floor to ceiling, showing images from across the island.

Tossing the kiddie book aside, Serenity leapt over to the wall of monitors.

Neith made herself comfortable in her wingback chair.

The monitors captured images of all the workstations, the front of the building, the small strip of beach she had lingered on with Adriel, the kitchen and just about every other place on the island, except for the one blind to Neith’s cameras.

That was the sage’s secret, how she always knew what was going on.

She hit another button and all the monitors filled with the same image, but enlarged as if the screens formed one. Cyrus stood in a hut, speaking angrily with Ximena. He swatted at moths flying around his head. He picked up a spool of silk and threw it on the ground. The squirrel monkey on Ximena’s shoulder swiped at his face, nearly grazing his cheek. Cyrus pointed at them, shouting, then stormed out.

“He has developed a poor attitude. You should have a word with him about it.”

She laughed in disbelief. “This was your bright idea. You speak to him.”

“As the mate of a Council member you will often be asked to speak to him on behalf of others. Think of it as practice.”

“Do you really think this is helping him?”

“Once he submits to the process, it will improve him,” Neith said.

“Cyrus doesn’t submit.”

Neith swiveled in her chair. “He will.” The ancient one’s gaze was so self-assured, her voice so steady with certainty, Serenity almost believed her.

“Why do you spy on them?”

“I do not spy,” Neith said, as though it was beneath her. “I monitor and oversee. If there were cameras in the bedrooms, then I would be spying.”

The very idea made her skin crawl, souring her stomach. Serenity shifted her gaze back to the monitors. “Do you have audio?”

“For some areas, but I prefer to watch without it. You could learn a great deal about body language without the sound.”

Cyrus returned to the hut and made amends with Ximena. He appeared to take direction with a clenched jaw. He took tiny hatched cocoons and soaked each one in two different solutions and painstakingly unraveled them to add the silk thread to a spool.

Glued to the monitors, she was fascinated by overseeing all. The day waned quickly.

In the winery, they used a bamboo and
barenpetium
press. A similar one was used to extract the oil from olives. Rows of casks filled with wine lined another hut.

The hut where they made the toiletries was a flurry of activity. Someone poured a thick, translucent liquid onto a sheet and set it to the side. Another person cut a formed sheet into blocks of soap. Test tubes lined a desk next to clay pots filled with bubbling concoctions.

“Would it be possible to get soap scented with plumeria?”

“It can be arranged.”

As usual, in the midst of the world spinning, the sight of her mother captured her attention. She taught warriors fighting techniques and blocking styles. Sothis stood unarmed and encouraged four warriors to attack at once with swords. She flowed around them, her body a surging river, disarming them, causing them to collide into each other and finally sweeping them to the ground—all with fluid grace.

From the corner of her eye, Serenity suddenly became aware of Neith’s shrewd gaze. She glanced at the ancient beauty, waiting for her to speak, but Neith just stared with a seething expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re siphoning energy,” Neith hissed.

Serenity staggered back. “I didn’t realize.” She focused on the vibrations of her energy pool. Sure enough, capillaries of her energy stream had sifted out to suckle at Neith’s, absorbing fine driblets of her energy. “I didn’t know.”

Pushing off the armrests of the chair, Neith stood. Her eyes hardened to a sharp glimmer of
barenpetium
. “You didn’t know you were leeching or you didn’t know you could do it?”

“I didn’t know I was siphoning.”

“When you connect to the collective, you will give back. You should have told me you were capable of manipulating the flow of your stream in this way.”

“For some reason I thought it might make you angry,” she said through a slip of a laugh.

“Are you making a joke?”

Serenity shook her head and pursed her lips.

Neith pressed a button, the monitors went dark, and the wall slid back to hide them.

“You don’t seem very surprised I have the ability to do it. How many others can choose how much they return to the collective?”

“I’m the only other Kindred I know who has this ability.” Neith sat, chin up.

The dots connected. “That’s why you look so youthful. You’re a leech.” The words carelessly slipped from her lips.

Neith glared at her. “I am no leech! The flow is not evenly balanced, but I give unto my children all else that I have. You—” she pointed a finger at Serenity, “—will give back and return what you take.”