A Soul for Vengeance (9 page)

And when she did, she found Varrik standing in front of her with his finger pressed against her forehead.

Her legs crumpled as though the bones had been pulled from them. A pair of arms caught her as she fell and led her gently to the floor where Cinder sat waiting for her to lean against him. “Arden, are you back?” a concerned voice asked.

She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t want to open her mouth and have Loku’s words spill forth, so she merely nodded and wrapped her arms around Cinder’s neck.

The doors rattled twice before splintering off the hinges. The brown-haired elf burst into the room. A rope of magic coiled around her hands, her feet, her neck. “Are you safe, Lord Varrik?”

“Quite safe, Callix,” he replied, dissipating the imprisoning spell with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need for that.”

Callix remained tense and aloof, another spell sparking along his fingertips. “I sensed great chaos in here.”

Arden laughed in spite of the fact her pulse still hammered from the ordeal. Great chaos was an understatement. Loku had managed to slip through her restraints once again, this time to the point of scaring the wits out of her. She held on to Varrik’s arms, savoring the bedrock steadiness they offered. For the first time since she’d left the Conclave, she wished she could go back and complete her training, if only to prevent this from ever happening again. Next time, she doubted she’d be able to lock Loku away.

“You did, but we have this under control, Callix. Loku is contained.”

A thread of unease squirmed through her gut. She’d only contained the chaos god once, and with dire consequences. She called out to him, but got no reply. “You know how to do that?” she asked.

Varrik helped her to a nearby chair and offered her another cup of tea before answering. “Who do you think taught Dev?”

She took the cup, but didn’t drink. Her nerves were too frazzled for anything less than a strong drink. She shifted her attention between the two elves in the room, wondering what kind of danger lurked here now that she was without the power of the god at her command. “I’d like to release him from his confinement, please.”

Callix lunged toward her as though she threatened to assassinate the Empress. Cinder jumped to his feet, his fangs bared, but Varrik stepped between the elf and the growling fire wolf and asked her, “Why?”

“Because despite what you just witnessed, I think he would protect me if needed.”

“Don’t do it, Lord Varrik.” Callix’s nostrils flared as he glared at her. “The Soulbearer has obviously been seduced by Loku.”

“Seduced?” She shoved the cup back into Varrik’s hands and crossed the room to stand in front of the brown-haired elf. “What kind of sick world do you live in where that is considered seduction?”

“Then why do you defend him?”

She blinked several times, searching her mind for a reason. Despite all of his plotting and scheming, she still actually believed Loku cared for her. After all, he’d saved her life more times than she’d cared to admit. He’d helped her free her homeland from a necromancer and shown her how to heal Dev after he’d been mortally wounded. He’d bolstered her confidence when she doubted her place in the world and provided a sympathetic ear when her heart was troubled. But how could she keep that side of Loku without tipping over into the nightmare she’d just experienced?

“It’s complicated,” she said at last.

“Undoubtedly.” Varrik came beside her and placed his hand on her elbow. “You can leave, Callix. I have everything under control.”

The brown-haired elf left with a snort of displeasure, restoring the doors to their former condition with a snap of fingers before closing them.

Varrik led her back to the chair. “Sit,” he said in a tone that allowed no argument. “We need to talk.”

“I’m listening.”

Varrik crossed his arms and paced for a minute, his brow wrinkled while he seemed to choose his words. “What has Sazi taught you about controlling Loku?”

“Not nearly enough.” Especially if today was any indication.

“Indeed.” He stopped short and turned sharply on his heel to face her. “I think we need to strike some sort of bargain while you’re here. I’ll return your mother’s necklace to you, but only after you’ve proven to me that you can successfully contain Loku should he get out of control like that again.”

She dug her fingers into the arms of the chair. “How can I prove it to you when you have him contained?”

“I’ll help you release him, but only after you’ve recovered from this and mastered a few helpful spells.” He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t help but notice the seriousness in his eyes when he added, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing with him, one where you do not understand the rules, nor the consequences, Arden. But I intend to help you level out the playing field.”

He released her and pulled a slip of paper out from between the pages of the book he’d been reading when she’d first entered. “There is another matter to address, though, before we start your lessons. The Mage Primus and your Protector are quite worried about you.”

“You didn’t tell them I’m here, did you?” She jumped from her chair and calculated the number of steps between here and the door.

“No, I haven’t. This letter just arrived this morning to inform me that they regretfully had lost my daughter.” He set the letter down on his book. “The question is, why do you want to hide from them?”

The ache in her chest returned with throat-swelling vengeance. “Because I can’t bear to be around Dev anymore.”

“What did he do to you?”

The dangerous note in Varrik’s voice startled her at first, as did the murderous gleam in his eyes. For a man who’d only learned he had a daughter a few months ago, he’d already mastered the role of an overprotective father.

“Nothing, Varrik,” she replied, hoping her words would appease him. “He’s done nothing other than remain steadfast in his duty above all else.”

Varrik was no fool. His eyes searched her face for any clue of what really happened between her and Dev, but she kept her expression blank and the secrets of her heart closely guarded.

“Very well,” he said, his attention falling back to the book that held the letter. “I promise I will not tell them you are here so long as I feel your safety is not compromised. But that means I’m keeping Loku contained until I feel you are ready to control him.”

She looked to Cinder to see if he sensed any danger from Varrik or this arrangement. The wolf sat with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, completely at ease now that Callix had left the room. “I’ll agree to my end of the bargain so long as you agree to keep yours.”

“Agreed.” He paused before adding a word that sent an icy shiver down her spine, “Daughter.”

Chapter 8

He was watching her again.

Zara kept her head forward, her back straight, but she couldn’t escape the burning sensation of Kell’s eyes on her. It was as though he was pulling her apart, layer by layer, to expose her weaknesses. But she wouldn’t give him a chance. She turned around in her saddle and snapped, “What?”

His eyes widened and his lips parted in mock innocence. “What do you mean?”

She tugged on the reins until her horse was alongside the wagon. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Who says I’m staring?” He gave her a charming grin that had cost more than one of the court’s ladies her virtue before the Thallians invaded. “Perhaps I’m just admiring the view.”

She glanced down at her backside, her cheeks growing uncomfortably warm. “I know you’ve been hard up for a woman’s company since you left your yellow-haired witch behind in Gravaria, but I need you to get your mind out of your pants and keep an eye out for any Thallian soldiers.”

Parros choked on a fit of laughter, disguising it under a cough when Kell glared at him.

“You don’t need to worry about me having those kinds of thoughts about you, Zara.” He pointed to the eye she’d blackened years ago. “I already know how you respond to my advances.”

An odd weight of disappointment flopped in her stomach. It’s not that she expected him to have any amorous thoughts about her, especially since she was his best friend’s little sister. But still, she would’ve liked to have received a compliment or known that he appreciated her femininity. Bitter laughter rang through her mind, though, as she looked down at her clothing. Leather breeches, leather jerkin that had been fashioned into a modified bodice, coarse woolen shirt. Even her hands were chapped and calloused under her sturdy leather gloves. Any traces of her femininity had vanished the moment the Thallians invaded and stolen it.

She glanced back and caught him staring at her again. This time, however, the charming princely grin gave way to a slow, easy smile of approval. Whatever she was doing that captured his attention, she was doing well.

That did nothing to cool the fire in her blood.

The warbling notes of a birdsong came from down the road, and ice shot through her veins, freezing her progress. The cart beside her also stopped as Parros listened with her. The same notes floated on the breeze again, and panic quickened the beating of her heart. Thallian soldiers had been spotted. “Get off the road,” she ordered.

Parros turned the cart and headed for a patch of thick, snow-covered evergreens. Zara lingered on the road, loading her crossbow and watching for any movement. The man she’d sent to scout ahead appeared over the crest. He was breathing as hard as his horse by the time he reached her. “Slave transport.”

Her gut wrenched. “How many soldiers?”

“Counted at least a dozen.”

She swore under her breath and jumped from her horse. “Get behind the trees before they see us.”

They led their horses to where the rest of the group had gathered around the cart. The trees provided some protection from the road, but only at certain angles. “Parros, try to position the cart here so we can hide the prince behind it.”

“I’m not hiding anywhere.” Kell stood beside the cart, his sword drawn. “If we’re being attacked, I want to fight with you, not cower behind the wheels.”

I don’t have time for this
. She grabbed Kell’s arm and yanked him down into the snow beside her. “We’re trying our best to avoid an attack, so shut up and do as I say.”

Once Parros had the cart in place, he joined them behind the bank. “Did I hear a dozen?”

She looked to the scout, who nodded.

Parros drew his sword. If the Thallians wanted trouble, they’d get it.

Zara’s pulse pounded in her ears, so at war with the calm steadiness of her trigger finger. She peered through the branches at the road, one hand on Kell’s shoulder, and waited.

The sounds of clopping hooves and squeaking wheels came closer. Four Thallian guards rode in front of the transport. A set of guards rode beside each of the three wagons, all packed with dead-eyed Ranellians. Two more guards brought up the rear.

Zara struggled to keep her temper in check as she watched them pass. Her finger curled around the trigger of her crossbow, but she didn’t pull. Instead, she dug her fingers into Kell’s shoulder and pressed him down behind the bank.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“The Thallians are taking our people to one of their workhouses,” one her men replied. “They’ll work them until they keel over dead.”

Zara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It would be so easy to surprise them. So easy to take out the guards before they knew what hit them and free her people. She raised her crossbow, already envisioning her target.

“Don’t even think about it,” Parros warned.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. The old knight knew her better than she thought. “Why not?”

“There’s just twelve of them,” one of the other men replied. “We’ve faced worse odds before.”

“Yes, but we didn’t have such a precious cargo at that time.” He pointed to Kell and turned his attention back to the road.

Zara looked at Kell, then at the last wagon full of Ranellians destined to become slaves. Her heart ached at the decision she was forced to make. All the men focused on her, waiting for her signal. She unwound her finger from the trigger and lowered her crossbow. Yes, those people would suffer because of her choice, but in the end, she’d hopefully save more lives by protecting the one beside her. “Parros is right. Remember our mission.”

Her eyes stung, so she closed them again and waited until the last creak of the slave wagons faded down the road.

Parros squeezed her hand. “You made the right choice, m’lady.”

She cast one more glance at Kell. If he failed to become the leader they needed him to be, then she’d risked everything on a fool’s dream. “I hope so.”

Later that night, Kell crouched beside her at the fire. “Can you please explain what happened today?”

There was no sarcasm in his voice, no sneer in his tone, no arrogance in his question. Just confusion and a shared sense of loss.

“Ever since the Thallians conquered Ranello, they’ve been rounding up our people and sending them to work in these—” She shuddered, trying to find the right word to describe the horrors she’d witnessed. “Hellholes. They’re forced to do everything from mill flower to weave cloth and sew clothes to build the Thallian war machines. Their days are long, their conditions deplorable, and their needs neglected. The Thallians work them until they drop and then replace them with another slave.”

Kell wove his fingers together, his gaze locked on the dancing flames rather than on her. “One of the men mentioned that you’ve been against worse odds—what did he mean?”

Zara hesitated. Her mission was to bring him back to the camp. From there, her brother could fill Kell in on all the sordid details of the Thallian conquest, all the casualties suffered, all the odds that made their rebellion teeter on suicide. But he still deserved to know what was already in place. “Things have changed since you left, Kell. You’re used to riding into battle surrounded by thousands of men, but that no longer is feasible. Our numbers have diminished, and we cannot take the Thallians head on—not with their magic and their war machines. We’re reduced to ambushes, surprise attacks and raiding parties.”