Veil of Shadows (11 page)

She glanced at her windows. Her internal clock told her what time it was without her bothering to check her timepiece. “It’s already late, past midnight.”

“Should I leave?”

She covered the arm resting around her waist and hugged him. “Hell no.”

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. Then he nudged her backside with his cock. Even as tired as she was, even after making love with him three times, she felt the heat once more begin to build. “If we stay like this all night, will either of us sleep?”

“Yes.” She glanced over at him and smiled. “We should sleep now . . . so we can wake up and do it again before the day starts. Morning sex is always a great way to wake up the brain.”

He chuckled and nudged her again. “My brain is already rather awake.”

But then he tugged her a bit closer and Syn snuggled back until not even a whisper of air could come between them.

As she drifted off to sleep, she decided she’d been right.

No matter what, this night had been worth the complication.

It was too much to hope for that his gear hadn’t been discovered.

In under a minute, Dais knew that his belongings had been found and confiscated—Morne, Kalen and the lot, no doubt.

A snarl twisted his face, but he didn’t linger. He couldn’t risk it. If they’d found his gear, it was likely somebody might still be watching the area. He’d done a search around the immediate perimeter, but lingering was foolish.

He had other caches hidden within the forest and nearby mountains. He’d find one of them, gather his weapons, and take a bit of time to lay down some sort of plan. A good, solid plan—he needed one that had a half a chance of working, and he didn’t even know if it was possible.

If he didn’t turn Lee over to the Warlords, they’d kill him.

If he was caught by the rebels, he’d
wish
they’d kill him. Ishtan’s people rarely resorted to torture, but somehow he doubted Kalen would be satisfied with a quick death when it came to Dais.

Losing himself in the trees, he began following an old, rarely used trail. It was a familiar one. It would lead him to an area well outside the range of the army’s patrol, a place where he could rest easy for a night, possibly two, while he developed some sort of plan.

“You can do this,” he muttered. He’d managed the impossible for decades—evading discovery for his people as he fed information to the enemy. Surely he could get his hands on one mouthy witch.

There were times when Laithe envied the people of Ishtan. His kind eschewed any form of technology—the Warlords and their people had risen above such pursuits. They were above the petty wars that often tore worlds apart, the power struggles, the inability to care for every last soul in their world.

The perfection of magic—that was the ultimate desire of his people.

But Laithe possessed only Gate magic, and it was useless here. He was neither sorcerer nor seer—he had no ability to see the future, no skills to rival the talents of the Ishtanian witches. All he could do was manipulate Gate energies, and since the Gate’s collapse, that gift had been rendered useless. He could feel the energies, but he could no longer touch them.

However, he could have a great deal of use for some of the technology used by those in Ishtan. The ability to send word back to his fellow Warlords in just moments—ah, yes, that would be useful.

He kept to the shadows, silent and still, as he watched the traitor. Warlords had superior eyesight and he used it now to keep watch on the man from a safe distance. This far away, Dais couldn’t hear him, couldn’t smell or see him.

But Laithe wasn’t such a fool to think the man was unaware of him. Despite his arrogance, the traitor hadn’t survived all these years by being careless. Laithe knew of the man. Until yesterday, he hadn’t known the man’s name, but many of those who’d served the High Lord’s family knew that Raichar Taise had a spy within the rebel army.

Now the spy promised to deliver a
female
Warlord. One who had the blood of both Warlord and witch in her veins and could harness both powers. It was unthinkable, so far outside the realm of possibility that Laithe couldn’t understand it.

He wouldn’t put it past Dais to lie, but there had been nothing of a lie in the man’s eyes, in his scent, in his voice, when he’d made his claims. Either he truly believed in the existence of some female Warlord . . . or she truly did exist.

The daughter of Raichar Taise.

Laithe idly stroked his fingers against the stone he wore around his neck. It barely pulsed at his touch. Once, it had held enough power that it had throbbed, all but vibrated under his touch.

That power was useless now, scattered. Lost in the chaos of this world’s tumultuous energy.

Witches could touch that power. Harness it. Calm it.

A female Warlord with a witch’s power . . .

The possibilities.

There were times when being in charge had its benefits; Syn had no doubt about that. Having a private dormer was absolutely one of them, and one she’d put to her advantage over the past few weeks.

But there were also times when it absolutely sucked.

She pored over the reports, even though the numbers threatened to make her eyes cross. Her dormer also served as her makeshift office, and she’d been stuck inside it for half the day, trying to figure out if she had enough men to safely send a unit back east for supplies.

They needed more material—for weapons, for clothing. Food would be nice—they had plenty to eat, but what she wouldn’t give for some sort of variety. She was tired of the basic rations they existed on. It was supplemented to some extent by the food found by the hunting and gathering parties, but Syn had no idea how long much longer that would last.

True to their goals, the rebel army had focused on culling the demon population, and as expected, the demons had ramped up their aggressiveness. It was getting too dangerous outside the walls—how much longer before Kalen decided they couldn’t afford to send people outside the gates for food when they had rations inside the camp?

If they couldn’t drive the demons back . . . “No. We’ll find a way,” she muttered, forcing her thoughts away from that path. They’d figure something out. They had to.

“Focus on the supply report, girl.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the grumble of her belly. She’d missed the noontime meal, and none of the food she had in her dormer appealed. She’d almost sell her eyeteeth for a cache of sweets she had to share with no one. Greedy—she was absolutely greedy.

There was a knock at the door, and she absently called out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and she didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Heat rippled through her and she looked up, found herself lost in the dark depths of Xan’s gaze.

Although her heart stuttered under that look, she forced a smile and kept her voice calm as she said, “Yes?”

A smile curled his lips and he lifted a small bit of paper. “A message from Gunner.” Gunner—a nickname for the old bastard that ran the weapons detail.

She grimaced and muttered, “It had better not be bad news. I’m already trying to figure a way to get the supplies he needs.”

He crossed the floor and handed it to her, eying the reports spread across the scarred surface of the narrow table she used for a desk. “You haven’t been outside much today. Is there a problem?”

She shrugged and said, “Not a new one. Just trying to cover everything we need to cover.” She winced and reached up, rubbing at the back of her neck. Numbers made her eyes cross.

Xan lifted a hand and nudged hers away, covering her neck with his rough, broad palm. He did nothing else until she leaned back into his touch. Then he lifted his other hand and started to massage her shoulders and neck. Syn groaned and her head fell forward.

“You are tense.”

She slitted her eyes and glared at the paperwork that lay there. All but mocking her. “I hate numbers. I have to juggle the numbers. The problem, though, is that they aren’t really
numbers
. They are people. Have to figure out a way to send a unit back east without losing any of them—which means a larger contingent has to go, but we can’t send so many it leaves us spread too thin here.”

“Why couldn’t those who escorted the convoy bring back the supplies?” he asked.

“Several reasons. One, none of those who escorted the last convoy out are coming back. They are done. And second, the supplies we need come from a different area, and heaven forbid those fools back east make our lives easier by having the stuff we need shipped to a drop-off point.” She closed her eyes and muttered, “Bastards. They’ve just gone and forgotten about us.”

“People often take those they need for granted.”

There was another knock at the door. Syn didn’t know why, but when he went to pull away, she reached up and caught his wrist, holding him in place as she called out, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal none other than Vena.

Xan resumed his massage of her shoulders without speaking as Syn arched a brow and met the other woman’s eyes. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was no small amount of irritation in the other woman’s gaze.

“Did you need something?”

Vena smirked. “Damn, no wonder you like being the supreme bitch in charge if you get on-the-job sex bonuses.” A malicious glint lit her eyes. “Does the commander have any idea how you spend your days?”

I knew this bitch was going to be trouble,
Syn thought. But she didn’t let any of her irritation show. She gave Vena a nonchalant smile. “The commander hasn’t felt a need to check up on me for quite a while, Saurell. However, if you feel the need to enlighten him over the fact that you saw Xan in my office, feel free.”

“You think he won’t
care
?”

Now it was Syn’s turn to smirk. “No. I
know
he won’t care.”

“You are telling me he won’t care that you’re spending your days screwing around when we’re
supposed
to be dealing with the demon threat—that’s why you sent so many back east, because we don’t have the manpower to protect everybody and still deal with the demons. Yet you can spend your time getting fucked?”

“Oh, come off it, Vena.” Syn gently nudged Xan’s hands from her shoulders and shoved back from her desk, facing the other woman. “I’ve known the commander for most of my life—we’ve fought together; we’ve bled together. He’s left me in charge of the camp more than once when he’s had to leave or when he’s out of commission due to an injury. He trusts me, and he knows I let nothing interfere with getting my job done. And, more to the point, he’s also aware that getting fucked involves some level of nudity and a lot more contact than what you see in front of you.”

Vena shot a venomous look at Xan and then leveled it on Syn. “You honestly expect me to believe you two aren’t screwing each other?”

“Oh, we are.” A smug grin curled her lips. She couldn’t help it. “We just aren’t doing it right now—we’ll save it for when we’re officially off duty, which is still a good three hours away.”