Into the Wind (26 page)

“I am not
your
kind, Captain.” Odhrán appeared entirely disinterested. “But by all means, feel free to enlighten me to your people’s plight.”

Ian fought the urge to clench his jaw; he wouldn’t reveal to Odhrán how infuriating he found him. In spite of Odhrán’s protestations to the contrary, Ian doubted Odhrán cared nothing for the Ea. He’d cared about Treande, and he clearly cared about Taren.

First things first.

“Twenty years ago, our—
my
—people nearly destroyed each other in a civil war fought between those who wished the island to remain apart from humanity and those who believed the Ea belonged elsewhere,” Ian explained.

“Hence the need for the stone.” Odhrán chuckled and rested his delicate bare feet on a pillow. Ian noticed the tiny gold ring on the narrowest of Odhrán’s toes and guessed that it held some significance, since Odhrán wore no other jewelry.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Ian picked up his wine and sipped it slowly. He should have realized Odhrán would understand the importance of the stone. Looking at Odhrán, he found it too easy to forget how old he really was. He would need to tread carefully.

“Oh, Captain, I believe you
do
know what I mean. Your leader, Vurin, wishes to use the stone to force the Council’s hand.”

Ian set the glass back on the table. “No one knows what powers the stone possesses.”

“But they know full well it’s a weapon of extraordinary power,” Odhrán said as he refilled their glasses and met Ian’s gaze unflinchingly.

Ian took another sip of the wine and waited a moment for it to warm his throat before he swallowed. He wouldn’t engage Odhrán on something as important to his people’s safety. He wouldn’t risk revealing anything that might endanger them should Odhrán choose to take sides in the conflict.

“Taren tells me the Ea cast you out when you were young,” he said after a pause. Best to change the topic. “Why?”

Odhrán inhaled softly and looked away for a moment. If Ian hadn’t known better, he might have believed Odhrán was still pained by the memory a millennium later. “I was a half-breed. Or so they called me. I was unworthy to be called Ea. Or so they said.” Odhrán lifted his legs from the pillows, stretched them much like a cat might, then crossed them underneath his body. In another situation, Ian might have believed the movements to be childlike, even submissive. But Ian sensed this was just the opposite: Odhrán was infinitely confident in his position, and he wanted Ian to understand this.

“The truth is that the Ea feared me, Captain. Feared my uniqueness. My power.” He spoke the words matter-of-factly, but Ian sensed an undercurrent of fierce pride in them.

“What power?”

“Beyond that of an Ea?” The corners of Odhrán’s mouth turned upward. Was he amused that Ian had asked? Odhrán probably knew the question was a calculated one. “But then, the Ea have lost much of their power, haven’t they? From what Taren tells me, few mages remain, and those who do are relatively weak.”

“Aye. That’s true.” He had no reason to lie about this. Odhrán was clearly more powerful than any of their mages. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

Odhrán pursed his lips. “Why ask what you already know?”

Ian laughed softly. “I’m quite sure I don’t know all of it,” he said. “Besides, I want to hear it from you.” Taren had told him what he knew of Odhrán’s abilities, though Ian sensed Taren had downplayed some of the more problematic of them. He didn’t blame Taren for his trusting nature; he loved him more for it. But he would learn as much as he could about Odhrán.

Odhrán offered Ian a coy smile. “Of course.” He leaned back on the pillows once more and rearranged his limbs in a manner that Ian could only describe as seductive. Ian’s first instinct was that Odhrán’s overtly sexual stance was a conscious tool to put him off his guard, and yet there was something instinctive about Odhrán’s movements as well.

“I am able to transform into various shapes,” Odhrán said. His expression was unreadable; Ian saw neither pain nor pride in it. “In what you might call my Ea form, I can hear others’ thoughts, and they, mine.”

“What else?” Ian pressed, Odhrán having told him nothing more than Taren had already explained.

“I am what you might call a mage,” Odhrán said. “And in my Ea form, as you would call it, my powers are magnified.”

This, too, Ian had gleaned from Taren. “So your abilities are different from ours?” he pressed.

Again Odhrán smiled. “Come, come, Captain. You wouldn’t have me divulge all of my secrets, would you? Certainly you have a few of your own to keep.”

He knew there was more to Odhrán than he’d revealed, but he didn’t pursue the topic further. Much as he cared about what threat Odhrán might pose to his people, he had not come here only to assess Odhrán’s abilities. He’d come here for something far more important to him. He was pretty sure Odhrán knew this, as well.

“What do you want from Taren?”

“Ah,” Odhrán said with a look of sly satisfaction on his angelic features. “Shall we speak of your burning jealousy? Or shall we discuss your fear that I might somehow harm him?”

Ian fought to maintain his composure. Something about how Odhrán appeared to take this all so lightly stoked his simmering anger and coaxed it to surface. Ian knew what this was. His animal nature always warred with his intellect when it came to keeping Taren safe, and regardless of whether he believed Odhrán was a threat, the mere fact that Odhrán had the power to harm Taren was enough to stoke the embers of his fear.

“Will you not answer the question?” Ian demanded, knowing he sounded angry but no longer caring. He’d met other Ea who had raised his hackles as Odhrán did, though none quite so completely.

“I’d be happy to answer it.” Odhrán tilted his head to one side—a flirtatious gesture that only set Ian more on edge. “Yes, I want something from him. Or perhaps ‘wanted’ is a better way to put it. I have what I want.”

Ian clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe. He found Odhrán and the roundabout, lackadaisical way he responded to questions infuriating. “Tell me.”

“I have my freedom,” Odhrán said, his expression now deadly serious. “For more than seven hundred years, I have been tethered to these islands. I am no longer.”

“The rune stone. Of course.” Ian felt a muscle jump in his cheek as he spoke the words. “You’ve tethered that abominable thing to Taren.”

“Abominable? An interesting way to look at it. But you know I am not the one who tethered it to him. That happened long ago, in another lifetime.”

Ian laughed and shook his head. “How simple it is to blame a goddess you don’t even believe in. Or, better yet, someone who’s been dead for hundreds of years.”

“You really do love him, don’t you? Good. He will need your good counsel
and
your heart.”

Ian stood abruptly. He’d had about as much of Odhrán’s condescension as he could tolerate. “You will leave tomorrow,” he said, his voice hard. “You will not speak to Taren again.”

“At last we get to the crux of the matter. And it will do no good for me to say that I only desire his friendship, will it? Because you, like your human counterparts, think only of desire.”

“Will you leave, then?” Ian snapped.

Odhrán nodded, his placid expression unchanging despite Ian’s tone. “Of course, Captain. You have my word. I have no interest in the affairs of the Ea or their goddess. But should Taren choose to come to me, he will find a home with my people.”

“Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t thank me, Captain,” Odhrán said. “By sending me away, you also send away the best hope of keeping your beloved safe from harm.”

“I’m perfectly capable of keeping him safe.” Ian tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut that told him Odhrán was probably correct about this. Odhrán, powerful as he was, would be a formidable enemy. But what use was a protector whom he didn’t trust? No, he would keep Taren safe. The goddess expected this of him alone.

“No doubt.” Odhrán smiled once more and inclined his head, signaling the end of their discussion.

Ian bowed stiffly, then turned and left the room. A half an hour later, he slipped back into his bed and gathered Taren in his embrace. He had done what needed to be done. And yet he knew he’d let his emotions get the better of him. He’d let
Odhrán
get the better of him. Because no matter what he told himself about his reasons for wanting Odhrán gone, he knew Odhrán had been right. As he finally fell asleep as the first light of dawn breached the darkness, Odhrán’s words lingered in his thoughts.

Twenty-Three

T
AREN
AWOKE
rested the next morning. How long had it been since his sleep hadn’t been filled with dreams? He touched the rune stone around his neck to reassure himself that it was real. As always, it warmed to his touch.

Ian was still asleep when Taren dressed and went up on deck. Renda was supervising repairs of the mizzenmast. Several men struggled to hoist a large timber on one of the halyards. Taren leaned against a railing and watched. That was when he noticed the
Chimera
was gone. He frowned and walked over to Renda.

“Where’s the
Chimera
?” he demanded.

Renda raised an eyebrow. “How should I know? They set sail at dawn.” He smiled, pulled something from his pocket, then added, “He left you a note.”

“Thank you.” Taren took the note and read it quickly.

Taren,

We’ll meet again soon. Should you need me, I won’t be far.

-Odhrán

Taren was quite sure why Odhrán had left so quickly.
Ian, when will you learn you have nothing to fear?
He drew a long breath, then turned and headed down to their cabin.

I
AN
WAS
washing his face in the bowl near the bed when the door to the cabin opened and closed. Taren. He couldn’t express his joy and profound relief to have Taren safely back at his side. Perhaps they’d swim for a bit after he’d checked on repairs to the ship.

He turned and smiled at Taren. “I can’t tell you how happy—”

“Odhrán’s gone.” Taren spoke the words in something like a growl. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“Aye.”
Good riddance to him.
“And what of it?” Ian picked up his shirt and drew it over his head.

“Tell me you weren’t the reason he left.” Taren’s frown deepened.

“He left of his own accord,” Ian replied evenly as he sat and pulled one of his boots on. He knew it wasn’t quite true, though he reasoned that if Odhrán hadn’t truly wanted to leave, it would have taken more than just a suggestion to make him do so.

“No doubt. But you went to see him, didn’t you?”

Ian narrowed his eyes and donned his other boot. “I don’t trust him,” he said without looking up. Couldn’t Taren see that Odhrán was dangerous, or at least that his motives in coming to Taren’s aid were suspect? If Odhrán was so powerful, how easy would it be to disguise his true nature to Taren?

“I’m not a child, Ian. You say I’m not a slave. You tell me to speak my mind. And yet you don’t trust me to make my own decisions.” Taren balled his fists and glared at him.

“Of course you’re no slave.” Certainly Taren understood this after everything they’d been through together. Perhaps Taren was a bit naïve, overly trusting. Ian had only meant to keep Taren safe. Where was the wrong in that? “I trust y—”

“If you trusted me,” Taren snapped, “you’d have spoken to me before you told him to go.”

Ian hadn’t expected the extent of Taren’s ire, or at least he hadn’t expected Taren to care as much about Odhrán. The thought irked him, and his jealousy grew. “You know nothing of his inclinations,” he heard himself say, even as he fought the urge to embrace Taren and reassure him.
Nothing of how he used you!

Taren parted his lips and shook his head. “Inclinations? Is that what you believe of him… of
me
? That I
want
him?” The black stone swung on its chain as Taren walked over to the windows, then turned back to face Ian.

The stone. Odhrán had wanted to rid himself of it. Or was there some greater plan he’d accomplished by relieving himself of the damnable thing? None of them, not even Vurin, understood what the stone was capable of. Ian remembered how Taren had fainted when he’d seen a painting of the stone on the portrait in Ian’s family home. If it had such a powerful effect on Taren then, what would possessing it do to Taren now? What if, rather than just guarding it, Taren
used
its power?

“No,” Ian said absentmindedly. “Of course not.” He saw the hurt and anger in Taren’s eyes and looked away. No, of course he trusted Taren. But he’d done the right thing by telling Odhrán to leave. He’d sworn to protect Taren, hadn’t he?

“Don’t lie to me, Ian.”

Ian swallowed back his retort.
Leave it be. Nothing good can come of this.
He hadn’t meant to anger Taren. He knew he should apologize, explain that he loved Taren and that he feared for him. But instead he heard himself say, “Odhrán used you.”