Veil of Shadows (8 page)

“What is your opinion of the man?” the eldest Warlord asked, his voice indifferent. As though the answer mattered less than nothing.

“I do not trust him.” With a deferential bow of his head, the youngest Warlord spoke.

“Of course you don’t,” Reil said, amused. “You trust nobody.”

“No, there are a specific few whom I trust.”

Reil imagined he knew who the few were—they didn’t include the spy, or even himself.

He didn’t trust the fool, either. Ironically, he did trust the Warlord before him. He came from a long, proud line—with a few exceptions, this man’s family was held in high regard. They were merciless without being brutal, commanding without being domineering. Traits well admired in Anqar.

Unlike the cagey, conniving cur they had allowed to walk away.

Was it a fool’s errand? Or could it possibly be true?

Dais Bogler was a desperate man, and desperate men did desperate things. Desperate men often did foolish things.

But whether Reil trusted him or not, they had a decision to make.

“He isn’t to be trusted,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. He came to his feet, knees aching as he did so. He shouldn’t have come on this final raid. Every year was harder for him—the damp, heavy air in Ishtan wreaked havoc on aging bones. After three hundred years, time was catching up with him. But two of his offspring had been selected for the raiding parties, and he’d wanted to be with them. One more journey, before he retired to his lands to live out the rest of his life in relative obscurity.

Both of the boys were dead now and he may never see his estate again.

He grieved the loss of his boys—his great-greatgrandsons. He grieved for them and awaited the time when he could lay his arms down and join those who had passed on.

He was weary.

But there were others depending on him. More sons, even a few daughters back in Anqar, and he couldn’t protect his family if he was trapped in this world. Getting back was key. Anqar would be in turmoil and too many of his people preyed on any and every perceived weakness. Without him there, his family might be perceived as weak. He feared for them.

They must return home.

If by some chance this elusive “female Warlord” existed, she might prove useful.

Very useful.

There were other options, however. Reil didn’t believe in limiting his choices. He’d been laying the groundwork for possible courses of action well before Dais Bogler entered their camp. If Dais was correct . . . He found himself smiling as he pondered the possibilities there.

Still, he hadn’t gotten to his station by entertaining possibilities. He’d gotten where he was because he made things happen and left nothing to fate or happenstance.

He stroked a thumb down his stone as he studied the Warlord before him. He was well-known for being something of a diplomat—but a deadly one. He could, and had, easily cut the throats of his enemies. A swift, silent arrow in the dark.

A useful man to have at his hand.

“I want him followed,” Reil said quietly. “I want him watched. If it seems he’s right about this
female
Warlord, then I want her. She could be the very thing we need to return home.”

They’d need all the power they could gather, if they’d even have the chance.

Night came, and with it, there was a blissful respite from the humid, heavy heat that had plagued the region for much of the summer.

It had been another long, tedious day, one Xan was glad to see end. That was the way of it, though. The days stretched on, one slow hour ticking by followed by another and another, with nothing to relieve his monotony.

Nothing but the few times each day he saw the captain. Every day during hand-to-hand, and at odd intervals with weapons training. Those hours seemed to dance by without him even realizing it, leaving him waiting for the next time he’d see her.

Two weeks. He’d been in the base camp for two weeks, and he measured time by how often he got to see the captivating captain each day.

He was becoming far too much like a lovesick boy, and the woman barely seemed to realize he was alive—or that he could serve as anything else but a target.

By the time he started making his way to his assigned dormer, darkness had fallen. The pathways were lit with solar-powered lights that did little to dispel the gloom. Just ahead, he could make out the dark shadow of the dormer he shared with nineteen others.

Strangers—every last one of them. For the first time in his life, he was completely and utterly surrounded by strangers. Any other time in his life, he’d either been with friends or comrades . . . or he had been alone.

Twenty bodies, packed into one crowded room. What he wouldn’t give for some solitude.

The sounds of a struggle caught his attention. Solitude forgotten, he followed the low but unmistakable sounds. A woman—his attention sharpened and he realized he was snarling, his lips peeled back from his teeth. He drew the long knife from the sheath he wore at his back as he followed the sounds.

Brighter lights cast long shadows on the ground as he rounded a corner and ended up part of an audience at a sparring match. Feeling like a fool, he slid the knife back into place and started to turn away, but the opponents in the circle caught his attention.

The woman had a banner-bright head of blond hair, pulled back and woven in a tight tail that trailed down her back. The man was the commander, Kalen Brenner. Curious, Xan found himself moving through the crowd to take a place near the edge of the circle, staring at the combatants in the sparring circle.

The base camp had twelve different training areas, each one complete with a sparring circle. He had yet to see one of them empty for more than a moment or two.

This one was far from empty as well, and quite a few people stood off to the side, watching the participants with rapt interest.

He’d yet to see the woman’s face. She stood with her back to him, facing the commander. She was long and lean, standing on the balls of her feet. Brenner was watching her with a grin on his face. It was the only time Xan had seen him with any sort of true expression on his face.

The light glinted in his eyes, and he rushed the woman. Xan felt something inside him clench, and then the woman spun out of the way at the last second, using a move that was oddly familiar. He was quite certain Syn had used a move similar to that one of the times she’d taken him down.

The women in this camp were just plain evil, he decided, watching as the commander hit the ground.

He hadn’t been down a second before the woman joined him. Light fell across her face as she crouched down, one leg on either side of his hips. A grin curled her lips, and she said, “You’re down, pal.”

Her voice—the words, they had an odd inflection to them.

Her eyes were blue and the light in them was just a little wicked, just a little wanton, as Brenner shifted and moved, putting her under him on the ground. They grappled, fighting for control, barely aware of anything besides each other.

Somebody in the crowd called out, “Maybe we should leave the two of you alone.”

“Maybe you should,” the woman responded.

Kalen rolled away from her and came to his feet, smirking at the woman. “I’ve got five on you now.”

“You do know that bragging is never sexy, right?” the woman asked, circling around him.

She moved well. The commander was better, but she was . . . sneaky. Yes, sneaky described her right as she let him close in on her. She gasped and when he paused, she used his momentary distraction to hook her ankle behind his.

They both went toppling to the ground, the woman on top of him, with her knee poised high between his thighs.

One of the spectators called out, “We do need him functional, ya know.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” With a slow curl of her lips, the blonde smiled down at Kalen. “I like him functional myself.”

“Yes, Lee. We can tell.”

Xan recognized that voice. It was Syn. Following the sound of the voice, he found her standing on the edge of the circle. He hadn’t seen her outside of training for close to a week. And he had looked. Often. More often than he wanted to think about.

Willing his tense muscles to relax, he made his way to her side, watching the two fighters in the circle.

“Who is she?” he asked as he stopped next to her.

“Lee. His wife.” Syn didn’t look up at him as she responded.

“Lee.” He murmured the name to himself and frowned. He hadn’t heard anything about the commander of the Roinan camp being married. “Wife?”

“Yes—fairly recent. They were married not long ago—maybe two weeks before you showed up.”

“Not long after the Gate fell, then. Strange time to wed.”

“If we waited for a more ideal time, none of us would ever marry. None of us would ever have any sort of life outside the damned war.” Syn grimaced. Her features smoothed out and she gave him a questioning look. “Are you getting around the camp okay?”

“Yes. I was on my way to my dormer when I heard them.” He looked back at the sparring partners.

“She’s very much taken,” Syn said dryly, following his stare and wondering why the intensity of it left her feeling a little edgy.

It’s because of Lee,
she told herself. Lee was still getting acclimated. Syn considered Lee and Kalen her friends. They had a new marriage, and although it seemed solid, it just wasn’t right that they had some big, sexy brooder paying too much attention to Lee.

It was a perfectly logical way to feel.

It was also a lie. He was a big, sexy brooder, but what bothered her was the fact that she wanted him paying attention to
her
, not Lee.

“Taken?” Xan turned to look at her, cocking his head. He had to turn his head completely to see her—she was standing to his left, on his blind side.

“Yes. Taken—you do remember the part about them being married, right?”

“Of course. It’s only been a minute since you mentioned it.” A black brow arched over his eye and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you ask?”

Syn shrugged and focused back on Lee and Kalen. “You just seem very keen on staring at her.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

Lee was beautiful. There was no denying that. She had the gilded, golden looks of an angel, the wiry, quick strength of a born fighter. It wasn’t any big surprise that Xan had noticed her.

No, the surprise was that Syn was
jealous
. Screw being protective of her friends—she wasn’t worked up over Xan noticing her friend Lee, who happened to be married.

She was worked up because
Xan
had noticed
Lee
.

Hell. She really did need to find a man and work off some of this tension.

But getting away from him was priority number one because the longer she remained this close, the worse that tension got. She gave him a tight smile and said, “You have a good night, Xan.” Then she turned and tried to lose herself in the crowd.

Tried.

Failed.

Because he followed her.

Once more, he was at her side, and now they were alone, no longer in a very, very public place.

“Have I done something that’s offended you, Captain?” he asked, his voice level.

She shot him a glance and silently said,
Offend? No. Bother? Hell, yes. Everything you do manages to bother me somehow.

Out loud, she just said, “Of course not.”

“Then why is it that anytime I try to speak to you, you move in the opposite direction as quickly as possible?”

Syn was thankful the sol-lights weren’t very bright. All they did was give off enough illumination to make out the paths in the base camp. Nowhere near enough light that Xan would see her blushing. Keeping her voice level, she said, “Do I? I haven’t noticed.”

“You also do not look at me unless it’s to give me an order to get in the circle or inform me that my knowledge on tech weapons is disgustingly shoddy,” he said, his voice dry, referencing a comment she’d made the day before.