Tempest (10 page)

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” I said before his lips could touch mine again, “but it does.”

Kye’s gaze searched mine. “It is supposed to hurt. The best kind of love always hurts like hell.”

He’d said it. Love. His arms tightened around me, his lips soft against mine. There was no urgency in this kiss. Only gentle pressure, the kind of moment that would last forever because there was no rush, no need to speed through it.

And so he kissed me.

He kissed me in the middle of a
tentative
ally camp, inside a dark tent with sleeping rebels and marching guards beyond.

He kissed me, my palm against his chest, and I let him, lifting his hand so that it rested in the space above my heart. One thump ... two ...

And then I knew what he meant when he said every scar in his body tore open, and I was the only one who could heal them because suddenly my heart was a gaping hole, the scars in my emotions an open wound. His kiss healed them. His beating heart replaced awful memories with something hopeful and new.

I pressed his hand harder against my chest. “Here,” I murmured against his lips. He was healing me here. One thump ... two ...

Chapter 11

My heart was full.

I stepped from my cot only a few hours after Kye and I retired, the first awake among the rebels, and moved once more to the tent flap. It was still dark out, but the sky was turning grey, the sand white. After almost a week in the Ardus, I’d learned dawn was the coolest part of the day. A slight, warm breeze pushed through the entrance, and I pushed aside the fabric to look out over the sand.

I didn’t expect to find myself facing the Sadeemian prince.

Cadeyrn’s gaze was hard when it met mine, and I hid behind the tent flap, only half of my face visible in the predawn light. For a moment, he simply stared, his eyes moving from my face to my hair before traveling to the sand.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice low and deep in the gloom.

I glanced around for our guards but saw no one.

“I’m Drastona Consta-Mayria,” I whispered, my fingers digging into the fabric of our enclosure.

Cadeyrn’s eyes narrowed. “Not your name, girl. I know your name.”

I stared at him. “Then I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

His eyes lifted from mine, his gaze moving to the desert.

“The Ardus is a funny mistress,” Cadeyrn said. “She is unlike any desert. Her temperatures do not drop at night the way it should, the way it often does in most barren wastelands. She keeps few creatures alive. Only the worst kind of monsters survive here, the venomous and dangerous.” His eyes lifted to the sky, to the wyvers.

I looked at his profile. In truth, the Sadeemian prince scared me, but there was also something sad about him, something deadly and strong. As if he had tried to die a thousand ways and hadn’t managed to succeed yet.

“Have you traveled in many deserts, then?” I asked carefully, my voice so low I wasn’t sure he’d even hear.

He didn’t turn to face me.

“Too many,” he answered, his voice as low as mine. “You say you come here to help your people. Do you believe you are the phoenix of peace this Book of Truth speaks of?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him, so I stuck with the truth.

“I ... I’m not sure I’m what the rebels believe me to be, but I want them to have something to believe in.
I
want something to believe in. Even if it means believing in myself.”

Cadeyrn looked at me then, his expression unreadable.

“Is it so bad in Medeisia?” he asked.

I didn’t blink. “Worse.”

He nodded. The prince was tall with thick hair, bound now behind his head. He wore the same loose white tunic as his people with brown leather trousers and tall boots. A blue cloak was tied beneath his neck, the hood down. He stared for long moments at the rising sun.

The camp was coming alive before us. Cadeyrn’s people began gathering up supplies and lowering tents, and a group of men herded a cluster of strange looking animals from the desert into the camp. They lifted supplies and tied them onto the beasts’ backs. I watched them wide-eyed.
 

“Sand equus,” Cadeyrn said, noting my interest in the large, tan animals. They looked like horses, but had much broader backs and a thicker pelt. Their legs were longer than an average horse, and their feet were wide. All of them had light-colored fur that blended well with the desert and long, wide snouts. Their nostrils flared as they were led past us, and they stamped at the sand with their hooves.

Several guards marched behind the sand equus, and they glanced at the prince as they passed. He waved them on.

“Stone?” a voice called out from behind me, the sound breaking the silence.

The prince turned, his gaze finding mine as Kye joined me at the entrance,

“Stone,” Cadeyrn repeated.

He seemed to test the name on his tongue, a bemused look crossing his face as he glanced at Kye.

“Gather your men. We leave as soon as the camp is disassembled,” Cadeyrn ordered.

Kye stared at him, his green eyes narrowed while his dark hair fell into his face. I looked between them before focusing on Cadeyrn.

“All of us?” I asked. I gestured at the people in the desert. “Will the whole camp go?”

Cadeyrn glanced at me. “Some will return to Sadeemia.”

Kye’s arm went around my waist. I could hear our friends rousing behind us, but Kye didn’t pull away.

“They go to warn your king,” Kye accused.

Cadeyrn smirked. “Only a foolhardy leader would lead an entire group of warriors and servants to possible slaughter without first warning his sovereign,” Cadeyrn responded, his eyes narrowing on Kye. “I am
not
a foolhardy leader.”

The Sadeemian prince walked away then, his blue cloak flapping in the morning breeze. The wind seemed heavier today, and I noticed Cadeyrn glancing at the sky.

“Are we leaving now?” Daegan asked groggily from behind us.

Neither Kye nor I stirred, our eyes on the camp. The people beyond moved quickly, expertly.

“He’s certainly an efficient commander,” Lochlen said as he pushed his way past me, his face lifting in the early light.

Kye snorted. “Efficient, but arrogant.”

I looked up at him. “Do you really think so?” I asked.

Maeve, Daegan, and Brennus joined us at the opening, Oran weaving through their legs to settle at my side. Maeve’s gaze went immediately to Kye’s arm on my waist, and I saw her stiffen. I started to pull away, but Kye held me fast. Brennus and Daegan glanced at each other, a shrewd look passing between them.

“Do I really think he’s arrogant?” Kye asked me, his voice breaking the tension. He grunted in answer. “Yes.”

My hand went to Kye’s arm on my waist, my stomach fluttering with drunk butterflies.

“I don’t think it's arrogance,” I said, my gaze finding the Sadeemian prince. He stood in front of a group of blue-cloaked men, his hand gesturing as he spoke. “I think it's pain.”

Brennus grunted. “No, it’s arrogance.”

“Aye,” Daegan agreed.

“Men,” I mumbled.

Our guards—Ryon and Madden—returned
, their faces hard. Each of them held a pile of blue cloaks.

“Put these on,” Madden ordered.

We each took one, moving apart so that we could fasten them under our chins. Three soldiers sidled up next to Ryon, saluting before depositing our old packs and weapons into the sand beside the tent. We gazed at them.

“Go on,” Ryon said tersely. “Take them. The prince has ordered your things returned.”

Ryon sounded less than happy about the command, his middle-aged, lined face framed by wild blond hair and marred by a deep scowl.

Brennus was the first to move, barely controlling his excitement as he grabbed his sword and held it up reverently.

“Ah,” he sighed.

To a warrior, a weapon meant much more than his pack.

Daegan and I reached for our bows as Kye picked up his weapons, slinging his pack onto his shoulder. Daegan also took a sword, but I didn’t reach for one. Beyond knowing basic swordplay, the bow was my strength.

Maeve pushed past me, bending to retrieve her blade, her knuckles going white on the hilt. My gaze moved from her hands to her face. Her eyes met mine.

She shook her head. “You told me once you weren’t interested in him,” she hissed, her voice low.

I knew she meant Kye, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“I wasn’t,” I answered. “In truth, I hated him once.”

She leaned in close. “And it changed that quickly?” she asked.

I met her stare without blinking. “No. I learned to forgive.”

Maeve laughed, the sound harsh. “And out of forgiveness came love?”

I heard the disbelief in her tone, and I didn’t blame her for it.

“No,” I answered. “Out of hatred came respect for what he does. Out of respect came love. Out of love came forgiveness.”

I stepped away then, my gaze going to Kye where he stood near Ryon and Madden. He slid his sword into the leather scabbard at his side before pushing a dagger into his boot. He rose, running strong fingers through wind tousled hair, his eyes narrowed as he exchanged words with Ryon.

Daegan moved to my shoulder, his bow on his back, his eyes going to the sky.

“I sense trouble,” he murmured. His brown eyes moved down to mine. “Keep your bow ready.”

I shivered.

“Aye,” Brennus grumbled. “I had strange dreams last night.”

I watched as Lochlen joined Kye, his reptilian eyes moving from the guards to the sky.

“All you are doing is scaring yourself,” Maeve complained, her disgusted gaze moving between Brennus and Daegan. She wouldn’t look me in the eye.

Daegan snorted. “Better to be afraid than unprepared.”

Brennus spit into the sand before placing two fingers against his heart. It was a tribute to Raheet. As the God of War, Raheet was also the protector of all warriors. Daegan repeated the move.

I tapped my fingers against my heart before lifting them to my head, and then to my lips. I had nothing against Raheet, but I was connected to Silveet, and I sought protection from her even in the desert.

“I still say you all honor the wrong god,” Oran grumbled from the sand. “Igneet is strong here.”

I looked down. “I am not a friend of Igneet,” I said.

Brennus glanced at me. “What?” he asked, oblivious to my conversation with the wolf.

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I murmured.

“It won’t do to anger any of the gods,” Oran warned, ignoring Brennus.

I narrowed my eyes. “Igneet has been the cause of too many deaths in my life. I do not pay tribute to him.”

Maeve watched me silently, her gaze moving to the wolf and then to me. She may not understand Oran, but she knew what I was saying.

“You blaspheme,” Maeve whispered.

I glanced at her. I knew Maeve’s powers involved fire. She, more than anyone, would pay more tribute to Igneet than to any of our gods. I wanted to apologize but couldn’t. I kept hearing Aigneis’ screams in my head as she was burned, kept hearing the trees cry out as they were set alight. I hated fire even when I needed it.

“It’s time,” Kye said, his voice breaking the tension.

I hefted my bow up higher on my shoulder, my hand going to Oran’s back as we joined the Sadeemians on their march across the desert to the coast. The sand equus made strange guttural noises as they moved, carrying supplies. Two pairs of the beasts pulled odd, wheel-less wagons transporting a few women and more provisions. Sand carts. I’d read about them many times, but having never traveled into the desert, I’d never seen one. They had flat bottoms with wide skids that slid over the top of the sand.

I could see Prince Cadeyrn in the distance, his proud form tall as he led his men. The sun was a large rising ball in the east, its heat beginning to overtake the sands. Luckily, our clothes were less bulky now, and the heat didn’t seem quite as suffocating. Servant women chirped, their voices light, as the carts that carried them moved slowly over the sand. Wyvers flew over our heads, keeping high but circling. Lochlen stared at them often, his yellow-green eyes darkening.