Broken Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 3) (6 page)

T
he past few days passed in a haze for Aaric. Kenroc, Adaryn’s father, gave him permission to marry his daughter, if somewhat hesitantly. Wedding preparations began. Nomads took celebrations seriously and the women in the camp needed time to sew Adaryn’s gown. Aaric would have rather skipped all the fuss and parties, but he didn’t want to step on any toes, being such a new member of the clan. The rest of the nomads, after hearing Oisin publicly declare Aaric a clan member, acted friendly toward him, though a touch wary. He couldn’t blame them. It would take some time for them to be used to having an outsider in the clan.

Oisin had not been happy to see Bran bring Miss Grace along, but didn’t press the matter, at least not publicly. Miss Grace spent a lot of time telling stories to the nomad children and playing games, so it didn’t take long for her to win the children over.

“We did it,” Adaryn said, holding Aaric’s hand. “You’re a nomad, and we’re going to be married.” She smiled at him, her gaze soft. They had finally found a moment to themselves, and were sitting side by side on a riverbank, not far from the encampment. Her blue eyes seemed to glow in the twilight, and she smiled at Aaric. He felt his breath catch, gazing at her. She was so beautiful. Aaric leaned over to kiss her. As their lips met, his blood warmed and he lifted a hand to caress her face. It hurt him to think he had once enslaved her. To think he had caused her misery.

Adaryn pulled away, her face puzzled. “There’s one thing I don’t get,” she said, her pale brow creased. “I suppose I should ask my father.”

“What’s that?” Aaric kissed her forehead. He didn’t want to think about anything or anyone at the moment but Adaryn. But the nomad absentmindedly pushed him away, her lips pursed in thought. Aaric sighed in disappointment.

“Our clan has been in the area too long. Not very nomadic of them, is it?”

“They were probably waiting for us,” Aaric shrugged.

“Nomads don’t stay put for anything,” Adaryn insisted. “We also move when the chief says ‘move.’ Why didn’t he?”

“You know he wanted the sky jewel,” Aaric countered. “He wanted it bad enough to offer me a place here. Maybe he wanted to make sure I’d find him again.”

Adaryn shook her head, only half listening to him. “And why was he looking at a map of Ruis?”

Aaric blinked. “Of Ruis? Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. He and Father were looking at it when we entered camp.”

“You should ask him,” Aaric responded. He watched the river rush by, his mind dwelling on what Adaryn said.

“I think I will.” Adaryn stood, brushing dirt off her skirt. She turned back toward the encampment and froze, staring at something. Aaric turned as well just in time to see someone slinking off into the woods.

“Bran!” Adaryn called, fists on her hips. “Come back here, I know you were eavesdropping.”

Bran walked out of the foliage. “I was looking for Grace. Have you seen her?”

Adaryn shook her head. “Grace isn’t important right now. Why hasn’t Oisin moved us on?”

Bran shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He was lying, even Aaric could tell.

“Bran . . .” Adaryn growled.

He sighed. “Fine. Oisin plans to go to war against Ruis.”

“What?” Aaric and Adaryn spoke simultaneously.

“Why not?” Bran asked. “They’ve taken so many of our people. But we have the sky jewel now.”

Aaric’s eyes narrowed. “How long has Oisin been planning this?”

“. . . A while.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Adaryn threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. “Oisin didn’t even think Aaric would be successful in his quest.”

“That was before you and I left,” Bran pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “We definitely improved his odds of succeeding. Plus, he was leaning toward war, anyway. They’ve taken too many of us. It’s time we fought back.”

“They will destroy you,” Aaric scoffed. “Your people won’t be able to withstand their superior weapons and the collars.”

Bran turned to him, his face flushed. “We have magic. And now my father has the ultimate weapon. We free our people.” He turned to Adaryn. “We can free Ember. You told me she was captive. Think about it. She was one of your best friends.”

“You knew!” Adaryn whispered, shock on her face. “You knew all of this before you even left to find us.”

Bran shifted, uncomfortable. “My loyalty is first and foremost to the clan, Adaryn.”

“I won’t allow this to happen.” Aaric stood and strode away from the river, in the direction of camp. “There has to be a more peaceful alternative.”

“He won’t listen to you, Aaric,” Bran warned, but Aaric ignored him. Oisin had to hear reason.

I
started to run after Aaric, but Bran grabbed my arm. “You need to keep him away from the chief, Adaryn.”

I pulled my arm free, glaring at him. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?” I said coldly. “Aaric may be one of us now, but you know as well as I that this will be unbearably hard on him.”

“Look, I know what I said when this all first started, but I’ve had time to watch Aaric. You were right. I know he’s different from the other Oppressors, but you’ve got to believe me when I say he needs to stay away from my father.” Bran’s eyes were worried. “The first opportunity Oisin gets to prove Aaric really isn’t one of us . . .” The unspoken implication hung in the air between us. Fear made my heart hammer painfully against my chest. I bolted after Aaric, calling out for him to stop. He didn’t pay me any heed.

As he reached the edge of the encampment, I caught up to him and grabbed him by a shirt sleeve. “Aaric, I think Bran is right,” I panted. “Let me handle this; you’re too new to the clan. Oisin won’t want to hear it.”

Aaric didn’t pay any attention to my words, and pulled me along until we reached Oisin’s tent. The chief was standing outside it, talking to a few clan members. He glanced over as we approached, his face expressionless. The sky jewel was hanging by a cord around his neck.

“I’ve heard you plan to go to war against Ruis.” Aaric’s voice was even, but his gray eyes could’ve been made of stone.

Oisin crossed his arms, watching him. “Sounds about right. Who told you?”

Aaric shook his head. “Doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is—”

“Actually, it does. Only a few clan members were given that information, and were told to keep it a secret. I intend to find—”

“What matters is you’re not going to war.” Aaric’s voice turned flat, and his eyes glittered. “I understand your anger, but war isn’t the answer. We need to find a peaceful solution to the problem.”

Oisin took a step forward, anger in his features. “What do you care about the Oppressors? You’ve been adopted into the clan. You’re supposed to be one of us now.” The chief’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you really aren’t one of us.”

Aaric’s jaw clenched with frustration. “I didn’t bring you the sky jewel so you could use it for a needless war. I won’t allow you to do so.”

I covered my eyes with one hand in exasperated horror by Aaric’s words. They had the effect on Oisin that I suspected they would.

“I knew it!” Oisin’s dark eyes sparkled in triumph. “I knew it. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but once an Oppressor, always an Oppressor. You traitor.”

“Father, Aaric isn’t a traitor.” I hadn’t realized that Bran followed us until he stepped up to face the chief. I cast him a grateful look, glad I wasn’t the only one who would have to stand up to Oisin.

Oisin glared at him. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to go in the first place, son. When I saw you’d brought home that witch from Ruis, I knew she’d clouded your judgment.”

Bran stiffened. “Where’s Grace?” he asked quietly. I knew that quiet. Bran was about to explode. I took a step away, nudging Aaric to do so as well. He complied.

Oisin shook his head. “You’re too late. I’m using her to start the war we need. I had some clansmen take her back to Ruis. They will kill her in front of the gates, where all the Oppressors can see. Their anger will compel them to hunt us here, where we will fight on our own territory. With the sky jewel, they won’t have a chance, and their oppressive reign will be over.” Oisin smiled coldly, obviously pleased with his strategy.

Bran’s face had gone white. He stared at his father, horrified.

The chief crossed his arms defensively, his expression dark and angry. “She’s an Oppressor, Bran. She has to die.”

The younger nomad shook his head. “You can’t do this, father.”

“I can and I will.” Oisin’s face hardened. “She is nothing to the clan.”

Bran turned away and sprinted toward the horses. I felt the magic swell around Oisin, and he lifted a hand toward his son. “I won’t let you go!”

Bran felt the magic too, and turned to face his father when Aaric lunged forward, punching Oisin in the jaw. “Run, Bran!” he shouted.

I winced as Oisin stumbled. He definitely hadn’t seen that coming. The chief regained his footing and, with a roar, wove magic, giving me all of two seconds to push Aaric out of the way, leaving me standing where he was a moment before. Power slammed into me and I screamed, arching my back in pain as magic surged through me. I fell to my knees, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Adaryn!” Aaric’s voice was filled with anguish as he picked me up, cradling me close. I tried to struggle, to tell him to put me down so I could defend us, but I couldn’t seem to talk. My body continued to spasm from the magic, overwhelming me.

“Adaryn!” another voice cried. I blinked, feeling confused. Aaric sounded like my father. I felt myself shift as someone else lifted me, taking me from Aaric. I tried to protest, but the only sounds came out as garbled nonsense.

Oisin’s face was purple with rage. “She brought it on herself, fool girl.” He glared at Aaric, who was standing alone and unprotected. I felt another surge of magic, and tried to warn Aaric, but I knew I was too late.

A
aric unsheathed his sword. He knew it was futile. Even if by some miracle he managed to take down Oisin, there was the rest of the clan to consider. He’d never make it out alive.

The chief brought his hands up again. Fire exploded from his fingertips. Aaric brought his blade up to defend, but then Bran leapt to stand in front of him, facing Oisin, using his own magic to repel the attack. Aaric stared, dumbfounded. Bran just defended him against his own father?

“How dare you defy your chief?” Oisin shouted.

Bran’s face matched his father’s in fury. “Why didn’t you tell me your plans for Grace? How could you do this?”

“How could you betray the clan?” Oisin asked. His eyes were red-rimmed and tears built on his lashes. “You were loyal!”

“Get the horses, Aaric.” Bran’s voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. He watched his father warily.

Aaric looked over at Adaryn who lay on the ground, her eyes still closed. Her father knelt beside her. He looked up at Aaric and nodded. “She’ll pull through.”

Aaric bolted toward the horses. A blast of energy hit the ground behind him, showering rocks and dirt everywhere. Bran shouted at his father, and retaliated with magic of his own.

Aaric frantically untied Star and another horse from their pickets, and for a wonder none of the nomads tried to stop him. They all stood frozen, shocked at the display that unfolded before their eyes. Aaric looked back toward the two warring nomads locked in combat.

Oisin hurtled a huge ball of fire at Bran. The younger man dodged it, and the ground rumbled and shifted, causing Oisin to stumble. The chief quickly regained his footing. Face contorted with rage, he brought his hands up and a white light streaked from his hands. Bran ducked, missing it by a hairsbreadth. He looked up at Oisin. “You can’t kill Grace,” he shouted. They continued dodging the magic and counterattacking. The sky jewel flashed white as Oisin threw his magic into the earth. Rock erupted under Bran, causing him to fall. A flying stone hit him on the side of his head, and he went down.

Aaric’s breath caught in his throat. He realized then that despite their differences, he considered Bran a friend.

Oisin summoned a shimmering blue-white blade, and advanced. Bran pushed himself up on his hands and knees, shaking his head groggily.

“You are no son of mine,” Oisin panted. “You’re a traitor, just like that foolish Adaryn. You will both die today.” He stood over his son, oblivious to Kenroc who now stood protectively over his daughter.

“The sky jewel!” Aaric bellowed. “Take, it Bran!”

Bran rolled away from Oisin, narrowly missing the blade that flashed downward, pushing himself up to a crouch. A fierce wind whipped up, swirling dust and leaves in its sudden flurry. Magic crackled around Bran and a bolt of lightning flashed down from the sky, slamming into the sky jewel.

Oisin screamed, clutching at his chest. He fell to the ground and lay still.

“Father!” Bran dropped to his knees, scrambling through the dry leaves and grass to the fallen nomad. He cradled his father’s head in his lap. “No . . . no!”

Silence hung over the camp like a shroud. No one moved.

“Father . . .” Bran’s body was still crouched protectively over his father, his voice thick with grief.

Aaric walked up him, leading Star by the reins. “We need to go, Bran,” he said quietly. “Miss Grace is in danger.”

Bran didn’t answer.

“There’s no time, Bran. She’s going to die.”

Bran finally nodded. He laid his father down, carefully retrieving the sky jewel. He shoved it in his pocket and stood, snatching Star’s reins from Aaric. “I ride to Ruis, then.” Tears streaked his cheeks, but his face was as hard as stone. He didn’t look at his father again.