Blood of the Guardian (12 page)

The presence of her hand on his chest startled him. He jerked back, releasing the plate. Her gaze fixated on his chest, particularly where she had touched him. It was the scar where he’d died, the one where Taryn had healed him and sacrificed her life for his.

He yanked the plate away from the Talasian girl, murmuring a thank you, and then he scanned the room. Warriors sat in groups on hand-woven mats, eating with their hands. They stared at him, as usual. Constantly staring.
Why in the Darkness do they always stare? Don’t they have anything better to do?
He knew the nightforsaken savages had emotions; he’d seen Maska reveal them recently. So why did they pretend to feel nothing?

Anger flooded through him. He felt it coming, knew he should get some control, but he was too tired. Too seasick. Too sad over Taryn’s death. He really didn’t give a rat’s backside what they thought of him anymore.

“Quit looking at me!” he yelled.

The soft conversation in the room quieted. The stares increased.

He flared his Shay, knowing yellow, glowing eyes would give them something to talk about. A few eyebrows rose. Alec smiled, satisfied. He wasn’t sure if his emotions or his Shay of Speed was more strange to them; both were foreign to the Talasians. However, Maska had Strength; Alec wasn’t sure why the savages on this ship seemed void of any Shay powers. He’d have to ask Greer later, sometime when he was well enough to speak rather than hanging over the side of the ship.

He headed to the farthest corner, shoveling the strange food into his mouth as he went. The effects of Greer’s treatment were already wearing off. More than likely, this slop would end up feeding the fish instead.

Taking off his sword, he planted himself in the corner, facing away from the others. The boat rocked under him, and he pretended to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He ate, swallowing the grain nearly whole. The meat tasted pretty good, tender for being dried. It was better than eating fish—which they served far too often. He took his time eating, enjoying the flavor of something besides vomit.

Examining the boat, he tried not to think about the wall as the only separator between him and the infernal water. The blue tinted wood had darker shades of blue winding through it. He wondered what kind of trees provided the wood. The workmanship of the boat was good, not what one might expect from a group of brainless savages.

He continued to eat and study the wood grain, pretending a whole group of warriors didn’t gawk at the back of his head. A figure appeared in front of him, blocking his sight. The gypsy, Jezebelle, slid down the wall facing him, extending her long legs on either side of him.

He scooted away quickly, feeling heat rise to his face.

“You move fast, don’t you?” She leaned toward him.

Alec swallowed and averted his eyes.

“Oh, come now, Alec. You’re nearly a man. Matter of fact, if you were Talasian, you’d be a man already.” A mischievous grin pulled on her lips. “They reach manhood at fourteen years. And you are … sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Fifteen,” Alec answered.

“Fifteen!” she said. “See! You’re a man already.”

“If I was thirty, I still wouldn’t be interested in you.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her breast in mock surprise. “Oh, Alec! You offend me!”

“Not likely.” He shoveled more food into his mouth, trying to finish quickly.

She smiled, obviously not offended. “I am a business woman. I run a traveling show of oddities with my friends, touring the countryside.” She eyed him. “It’s too bad you are so attractive; you’d make a good addition.”

Alec snorted, filling his cheek with grain.

“You’d be surprised what the Talasians say, Sun Warrior.”

His head rose from his empty plate and met her smug grin. “What’d you call me?”

“Sun Warrior.” Jezebelle stood, flipped a braid over her shoulder, and walked away.

Alec gawked at her retreating back. What the Darkness was she talking about? As much as he couldn’t stand her, she’d prodded him in the right direction this time. He grabbed his sword and strapped it on as he followed.

She meandered, as if expecting him. When he came beside her, she only grinned.

Alec huffed. “What do they say?”

“What does who say?”

“For Brim’s sake, woman. What do they say?”

She stopped and turned, her eyes raking over him before landing on his face. “They wonder how—for one so young—you can be so scarred. They call you Sun Warrior because of your wounds, and because your eyes glow like the light of the sun.” She shrugged. “I told them I had no idea why you are marred. I figured your scars were the result of whip lashes. Perhaps you’d been a slave.”

Alec gawked.
A slave?
He exhaled slowly, doing his best not to explode. “And that’s what you tell them?”

“Well, since you haven’t shared … ”

Alec stepped up to her, his anger flaring. “I’ve fought in several battles. Since the age of eight, I’ve had a sword shoved into my hand daily. And each of those days, my father showed me, the hard way, how to fight.” He touched the scar on his wrist. “This was my first, at eight years old. This …” He touched his chest. “… is when I died. And this …” He touched his face. “ … is when I murdered a man.”

She blinked, visibly surprised.

“So the next time you flirt with the warriors, don’t make up stories, especially about me.” He turned, glancing at the girl serving the food as he headed toward the stairs. If the gossiping savages thought him to be a sun warrior, then “Sun Warrior” he would be.

Ten minutes later, the Sun Warrior leaned over the rails of the boat, emptying his meal into the sea.

Chapter Eleven

ALEC DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG he sat there, wishing he’d chewed his food better. It was worse this time, if at all possible. His stomach twisted in knots even without the help of the waves. Memories of Taryn and the rumors of him being a slave gnawed at his insides.

Not that he cared what the savages thought of him, but how could she call him a slave? Sometimes, when he worked with his dad, he
felt
like a slave. His father never whipped him; he got all his scars fairly—as if a child sparring with an adult was fair. His father never forced injuries on him. It was always up to Alec—even if mismatched—to protect himself.

He rested his forehead against the railing, dangling his legs over the edge. Cold water splashed on his feet, leaving his toes numb and tingling. He closed his eyes, and images of Taryn came to mind. He tried to forget her, but the memories of his death crept in, no matter how hard he pushed them away.

He saw brightness but felt no pain. The light drew him, and contentment washed over him. But before the peace took him completely, his pain returned, his chest burning. The unnatural light faded, replaced by the sun on his closed eyelids. He gasped, awakening to the view of a blue sky. His lungs burned, as if they’d forgotten how to work.

He’d remembered fighting General Trividar; he sat up, alert and ready to continue the battle. It was then when he had noticed her, lying on the ground, hand open, arms limp and outstretched toward him. Mud-coated blond curls splayed around her, covering her upturned face. Deep crimson stained the front of her chest and pooled around her, fresh and soaking in the grass where she lay. She twitched twice and then lay still.

Alec jerked his eyes open, gasping, wiping away fresh tears. Brim curse the stupid girl! Why did she have to have Healing Shay? Why had she traded her life for his useless one? The others spoke of how brave she’d been, praising her courage to do what was necessary. They’d said that because of her, Alec had gotten word to the others. She’d helped save them all. So why did Alec feel so guilty?

A presence appeared next to him. He looked up, hoping to see Greer. He needed some relief from this nightforsaken illness. Instead, the girl from the serving line squatted next to him, her eyes studying his face. Alec gawked, his mouth open. How long had she watched him? He turned away, scrubbing away traitorous tears. He’d been sobbing like a little girl.

She tapped his arm.

He ignored her. She’d go away eventually.

She tapped again.

He stared at the sea, and his stomach rose and fell along with a wave.

She yanked him around.

He glared, intending to tell her off, but she shoved a cup into his hand. A pottery of sorts, with painted, tribal designs along the edge, rested in his palm. He stared at it and drew back to chuck it into the sea.

She grabbed his arm. She was a lot stronger than she seemed.

“
Tukeenek!
” she said.

He stopped. “Tu … what?”

She yanked the cup from his hand, brought it to her lips, and took a sip. “
Tukeenek.
” She handed it back to him.

He eyed her suspiciously.

She sighed. “
Tukeenek
.”

“You want me to drink?”

She studied him, and then said, “Trink?”

Alec snorted a laugh, but he stopped as nausea came over him. He waved the offered cup away and assumed his most frequent position of leaning over the rails. But before the illness could take hold, the girl shoved the cup to his mouth and tipped it back. Warm, spicy liquid splashed down his face and over his chest. He swallowed and coughed, gagging on the drink.

Alec clenched his fist.
How dare she!
His rage abruptly stopped as he realized his nausea passed. She held out the half-filled cup, her face smug. Could a Talasian be smug?

“Trink,” she said.

He stared at the cup … and then he chugged the remainder. Warm fluid spread down his throat, coating his stomach in sweet relief. It was an odd flavor, but not bad. Not bad at all.

He relaxed his shoulders and smiled. “Oh! Thank Brim!”

“Brrim,” she repeated. She touched his chest, pointing. “Brrim?”

“Did you just call me a god?”

“Brrim?” she asked again.

“Darkness no.” He put his hand to his chest. “I’m Alec.”

“Eleak.”

He smiled. “Close enough.”

***

The minutes crept by, and she quietly stood next to him at the rail. He expected the pleasant, non-sickness wouldn’t last; however, the longer he waited, the better he felt.

His stomach rumbled, this time with hunger pains. He frowned. Even if he was hungry, the grain and meat dish had tasted a lot better going down than coming up. He didn’t want to rush down the stairs to eat it again.

He glanced at his hands, realizing he still held the cup. He offered it back. “Thanks. Can’t tell you how much—”

She reached up and touched his lips.

He yanked back. Why did she keep touching him? Then she traced her own lips and pulled up the corners in a pathetic version of a smile.

Alec grinned.

She stared at him, her dark eyes combing his face, studying his smile.

“Oh, you poor girl. If I am the most interesting thing you’ve seen, then you have had a sad life, indeed.”

His smile quickly faded when her eyes dropped to his chest. He could see her studying him, examining his scars. He crossed his arms in a feeble attempt to hide them, but his arms were more scarred than his chest. He remembered when Taryn had examined him in a similar way. Although, when Taryn had looked at his scars, it had been brief. This girl studied him so intently, heat rose to his face.

Her eyes shifted to his face. She touched his cheek, studying the blush most assuredly tinting his skin. This, of course, made him even more embarrassed, and the heat traveled down his neck.

He turned away, his back to her, probably giving her a pretty good view of the scars there. By Brim, what was with this girl? What was she doing here, anyway? Why didn’t she leave him instead of standing around here silently examining him? How did he interest her? He stared at the sea, pretending she wasn’t there. After taking a few deep breaths, he turned around. The girl was gone.

He scanned the deck. A few Talasian soldiers walked by, gawking. Where was she? Across the boat, the gypsy came toward him. Whatever good mood he’d started to gain plummeted.
Oh, for Brim’s sake! What does she want?

He considered flaring his Speed and taking off, but her usual flirtatious expression was gone. She seemed annoyed even, enough to make him curious. As she closed the distance, she glared at him in disgust.

“King Kamalin has requested your presence for dinner.”

“When?” he asked. He was a bit hungry.

“Soon,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Which means I need to go as well, I suppose.”

“What?” he said. “You don’t have somewhere better to go? Some savage to visit in his room?”

She smacked him across the face, and his ears rang. Pain never felt so good.

She leaned in, pointing. “What I do in my time is none of your business, boy. Best you keep your comments to yourself.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

She drew back, but Alec flared his Speed, watching her hand as if moving in slow motion. He moved to the side as her momentum propelled her path to slap him again. However, with nothing there to stop her, she twirled quite spectacularly, losing her balance and nearly falling on the deck. She blinked, confused. When her eyes finally found him, she sneered.