Blood of the Guardian (44 page)

“Get away from him!” Kat said from her cage.

Jezebelle’s head whipped toward her, annoyance and frustration leaking from her emotions. “When I am done here, I’ll let you out.” She slipped her hand into her waistband and pulled out a key. “Then we can have a
talk
.”

She leaned into Nolan, her lips nearly brushing his. “If we are not siblings, we could be something more. We’d be the perfect match.”

“Go to the Darkness!”

She frowned and put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Oh. I guess I’ll have to kill you instead.” She glanced over at Kat’s cage. “Then I’ll kill her … Your people will still fall. In the end, Father and I win.”

Kat gripped the bars, anxiousness spilling from her. Nolan’s vision tunneled, his pounding heart increasing in strength and pace. If he died, she would too. He wouldn’t let that happen.

A scream trapped in Nolan’s throat as Jezebelle’s blades pierced him. Whatever control he had over his mind faded, focusing on the pain.

“Nolan!” Kat yelled.

Jezebelle’s eyes blazed violet, and then hints of red formed in her irises as she used her Strength to force her blades in.

Nolan’s Healing responded, trying to seal the wound. His breath left as the blade cut into his lungs, suffocating him.

Kat screamed his name. Then suddenly, Jezebelle jerked back, and her Empathy dropped away.

Nolan’s mind jerked free. He yanked out the daggers, his Healing surging to life. He raised his Empathy just as Jezebelle’s mind slammed into his.

She turned, glaring at Kat. A throwing spike protruded from Jezebelle’s lower back. Not a killing blow, but a distracting one. Kat stood inside the cell with another spike in her hand.

“You. Little. Witch!” Jezebelle wailed.

Kat whipped out her sword and met Nolan’s eyes.

In a swift movement, he grabbed Jezebelle, picked her feet from the ground, and slammed her against the bars to Kat’s cage.

Jezebelle screamed as Kat’s sword rammed through her. And before she could pry free, Nolan flared his Strength and wrapped the blade around her, embedding the metal within.

For a final measure, he pushed Jezebelle’s daggers into her, exactly where she’d pierced him. Nolan flared his Empathy, jamming into her mind, freezing her face in a silent yell.

His stomach turned. How could he do such a thing? She was a living being, for Brim’s sake. Fear pulsed from her, seeping from her like the trails of red running down her sides. Could he stand there, holding her in place while she died?

“Please
,” her mind begged.

Nolan wanted to block her, but he couldn’t, not without letting her go. Maybe she’d change? Maybe she’d become good. But he’d seen her mind and all her hatred for the people of Adamah. Years of racial taunts and a life of being shunned as an outcast—a useless scum to society—had hardened her. She wouldn’t turn from her plans. She would destroy Adamah the first chance she was given. She was fueled by revenge.

“I’ll stop. I’ll change.”

Nolan flinched, her pleas biting into him. He could lock her up. But her powers couldn’t be taken from her like Alcandor’s had been. There would be no way to keep her confined. Even with the Guardian cage, she controlled minds horribly well. It would only be a matter of time before she’d twist some unsuspecting fool’s mind and escape. And when she was free, the destruction would begin again.

There was no other choice.

Nolan stepped from the gypsy, and her mind still pleaded. He shook his head but didn’t break contact. It took all his concentration to keep her under his control.

Like she’d done to him.

Like Alcandor had done to so many others.

I am no better than them.

A green light shone around her wounds—her body’s pathetic efforts to save her. But her terror and anger faded as her consciousness drifted away.

“Help me … ”

Her eyes closed.

Her heart slowed … thudded three times … then stopped.

With one final thud of her heart, she exhaled. A mist of white Guardian light leaked from her wounds, spiraled upward, and hit Nolan full in the chest.

Nolan gasped, taking in more light than he’d thought possible. Every Guardian power in him swelled, pushing as if wanting to burst from him. The power Jezebelle had stolen from Rikar when she’d murdered him transferred to Nolan. Limbs shaking, he closed his eyes, and the entirety of Rikar’s Guardian power absorbed into his arms, his legs, his every muscle. When the transfer had finished, he relaxed, stumbling. Someone steadied his arm.

He opened his eyes. “Emery?”

“Are you okay?” Emery asked, his eyes scanning Nolan’s gory appearance. He hesitated, staring at Nolan’s eyes the longest. Why was he looking at him so strangely?

Blood completely covered Emery, from his throat to his waist. Then Nolan noticed the stone of Empathy in Emery’s hand. When had he arrived in the dungeon? How long had he stood there?

It must not have been too long, for Vikas was just opening the cell for Kat.

She rushed over, throwing herself into Nolan’s arms.

“I’m okay.” Nolan wrapped his arms around her, then put her at arm’s length. The cut on her neck still bled. He touched her cheek, and his Healing swelled. She blinked and then met his eyes as the wound closed.

“Nolan,” she said, breathless. “Your eyes. White, like a Guardian.”

White eyes?
He blinked, but he didn’t
see
differently. The Guardian power thrummed inside him, pulsing. He
felt
strange.

“The gypsy is dead,” Vikas said. A group of Strength Rol’dan were attempting to dislodge the blade from her body.

“Nolan?” Emery asked. “Where’s Alcandor?”

“The gypsy let him go.”

Talking from the soldiers stilled, all eyes staring at Nolan.

Nolan motioned to Ekon’s cell. “He took Ekon before he left.”

Emery cursed. “Keep his cell locked. Oh, for Brim’s sake. If Alcandor is loose, any of the dead outside could be a Dor’Jan. We have no way to tell until night falls. I suppose we can’t trust
any
of the dead. We’ll have to bring them all down here and lock them up. At least until we know if they were killed in the fight or by Alcandor’s hand.”

Emery spoke to some soldiers, giving them instructions in regard to the dead.

Nolan watched him, thinking about him dying a second time. Wondering who had the honor to sacrifice themselves this time. “Emery?” Nolan said, almost hating to ask the question. “Who … who healed you?”

His head dropped, and pain swelled from him so intensely, it made Nolan feel sick. Nolan pressed him with Empathy, trying to find out, but Emery’s mind was tightly closed.

“Emery?” Nolan asked again.

Maska touched Nolan’s arm. “It was Megan. She healed him before we could stop her.”

Chapter Forty-Three

MEGAN STUDIED HER REFLECTION in the mirror. It was a strange contraption; most couldn’t afford such a luxury. It was like staring at a replica, a twin. Except this girl wore a dress far beyond her expectations. She wore a wedding dress made for a queen.

Her brother and friends had come all the way from the village. The field outside the castle was packed with travelers—all coming to see the big celebration. The kitchen staff had worked for weeks preparing for the event. And even though they’d wed months ago, she was finally getting the wedding she wanted. She should be happy, shouldn’t she? Sorrow filled her instead.

She turned, watching the intricate fabric swoosh around her legs. Placing her hand on her stomach, guilt and sadness washed over her.

Her baby was gone.

Killed by her impulsive decision.

When she’d emerged outside to get help for Kat, she’d dove toward Emery instead. The others were all too distracted to stop her. But instead of exchanging her own life, as she’d intended, it had taken her baby’s instead.

Some called it a miracle—the ones who didn’t know about the baby. Megan, however, knew the sickening truth. She’d killed her child.

He’d been so very small. Formed fingers and toes on tiny arms and legs. Labor started immediately after Emery’s resurrection, and her perfectly formed baby came out with a horrid wound through his tiny head.

She turned from the mirror. Her heart ached too much. She hadn’t wanted the baby, but now that he was gone, she mourned. A son she’d never get to know.

Glancing at the mirror, Emery stood in the reflection. He wore a blue doublet over a white silk shirt and stood at the door. She sucked in a breath. He was so handsome. Why had he come to see her now?

They’d barely spoken since the incident. He’d been so angry. But what else could she have done? While everyone was in chaos, she did what she could. She’d sacrificed herself for the one she couldn’t live without. Except, it hadn’t gone as she’d planned.

“You are lovely,” Emery finally said.

Her eyes flicked to his, and his mouth rose in a hesitant smile.

“You look good too.” She grasped her hands together, wringing them in the folds of her skirts.

“Your brother is here.”

She released a shaky breath. “Yes. Kat told me.”

“He seems happy for us, if that makes you feel any better.”

It did. She always wanted Flann’s approval.

Emery turned, speaking in low tones to someone in the hall. Finally, he looked down each length of the corridor before shutting the door. His brown eyes met hers. “We need to talk.”

She shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep from shaking. “What is there to talk about?”

“About what you did.”

She pressed her mouth into a line. It was her choice, not his. She could save whomever she wanted.

In three long strides, he closed the space between them. He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing harder than he’d ever done before.

“For the love of Brim, Meg,” Emery said, his voice trembling. “Don’t ever sacrifice yourself for me again.”

She stared at him. “Don’t save you? Emery, I can scarcely breathe without you.”

“When I woke, with you lying there, gripping yourself while you bled all over the grass … ” His jaw tensed. “Meg, even that … I swear, if you ever do it again, I will throw myself off a cliff and die anyway.”

She started. “B-but, you’re the king. You can’t kill yourself.”

“I promise you this: If you
ever
sacrifice yourself for me again, I will make sure to kill myself in a place so remote, nobody will find me. By the time they do, my corpse will be too rotten to heal.”

The way he stared at her, she believed him. She swallowed. He didn’t give her much choice. “But if you die again, they’ll heal you …
someone
would.”

“One of my soldiers? I would get over it … eventually. They’d die believing they were serving their land. They’d die as a soldier. That’s what soldiers do. But you …” He shook his head. “I would never get over it. Your life means more to me than my own.” He released her, and his hands fell limply to his sides. “I know you’re hurting, but the loss of your child brings up a question, one we need to discuss now.”

“Now?” Her heartbeat quickened. “What’s that?”

“With the child gone, you don’t have to marry me. We can call this whole thing off.”

“Call it off?” Her mouth dropped open. “But, Emery, we’re already married.”

“Technically, yes. But since we haven’t … you know … we could easily annul it. You’d be free to go.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. After all these years loving him, and him loving her, he’d want to throw it away?

“You could find someone else, have a
real
marriage.”

She grabbed his hands, but he slipped them away.

“Emery. Just because we haven’t done some things yet—”

“There won’t be a ‘yet’ Meg. I told you before. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because you’re too
damaged?
”

He flinched but didn’t respond.

“Emery, that isn’t an excuse for me. Alcandor used me too.”

“It isn’t the same, Megan.”

“I know you endured it longer than I did,” Megan said. “But you’ve had years to recover. Mine was recent.” She shuddered as the memories flashed through her mind. “We can heal together.”

She could see his frustration and annoyance building, even more so than usual. She shouldn’t press him so soon after their silence, but her sorrow from losing Emery—twice—and now the baby, made all of her feelings emerge in a rush. She kept rambling, comparing their abuse, hoping if she downplayed her own she could change his mind. Finally, Emery’s face hardened. He’d had enough, but she pressed on.

“Surely, Emery. If I can get past it this soon, you can—”

“I’ve never been with a woman!” Emery blinked, as if surprised he’d said it out loud.

Megan stared at him, stunned. Alcandor had abused her, then controlled Maska to do the same. Like puppets in a demented show, he’d watch them for his pleasure. It had been only one night and a long day, but she figured it happened that way for all his victims. She tried to wrap her brain around what Emery was telling her but didn’t understand.