Tempest (9 page)

My eyes went to Kye. He watched me as I strode toward them, something deep within his gaze. It made my skin heat.

Cadeyrn’s gaze moved between us, but he said nothing.

“Prince Kyenar and the dragon have been spinning some wild tales,” Cadeyrn stated.

Kye frowned. “Kye. I prefer Kye.”

Lochlen didn’t look offended. I think he knew Prince Cadeyrn did it simply to rile them. I glimpsed amusement in the Sadeemian man’s face.

“Tales, Your Majesty?” I asked, ignoring the tension between the two princes.

Cadeyrn pulled a dagger from the inside of his boot. It made his tunic billow when he leaned over, the white fabric revealing a rather intricate black tattoo across his chest. I tried not to stare, but the design fascinated me.

The prince straightened, his eyes on mine as he lifted the knife. “You can heal?” he asked.

My eyes narrowed. I was tired of displaying my powers for power hungry men. If Cadeyrn was going to prove to be anything like Raemon, I wasn’t interested in the Sadeemian’s help.

“I can,” I answered.

Cadeyrn watched me. “I have no interest in a demonstration, but I can’t offer you my help on word alone. I am no enemy of your people, but I am also no friend.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

The prince took the dagger and dragged it across his palm. He didn’t flinch, but I did. Blood welled up along his skin and dripped to the sand below.

Cadeyrn held his hand out to me. “Heal it,” he ordered.

I stepped forward, swallowing hard as I took his hand in mine. Bile rose up in my throat. The prince looked amused.

“A mage with healing powers afraid of blood?” he asked.

I winced as my palm closed over his wound. The warm liquid there made saliva pool in my mouth, and the nausea became overwhelming. I swallowed it back. There was no way I was throwing up my first real meal in days. I closed my eyes, continuing to swallow as I felt the wound begin to close against my hand.

“I’m not afraid of blood,” I muttered, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The prince said nothing. He simply lifted my hand from his before placing a damp cloth in my palm. I opened my eyes.

“Nicely done,” he said, “but not an unusual gift.”

His wound was gone, and he used a second damp cloth to scrub the blood from his hands before moving away from me to the side of the tent. For the first time, I noticed a simple wooden table hastily set up on the side of the enclosure. There was a small washbasin resting on its surface. A stack of papers sat next to it, lit candles resting on each side. I recognized the papers as the proclamations we’d carried with us from Medeisia.

Cadeyrn lifted the documents, his fingers thumbing through the pages.

“So, the king of Medeisia plots to murder my fiancée?” he asked.

The prince’s gaze lifted to meet Kye’s.

Kye nodded. “He plans to intercept the ship carrying her to your shores.”

Cadeyrn sighed. “In truth, he’d be doing me a favor getting rid of Gabriella.” I gasped, and the prince looked up at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “You think me callous for saying that, no doubt,” he said, “but then you haven’t met her.”

Lochlen snorted back laughter, and the wolf at my feet chuckled.

“Must be a weak female,” Oran muttered.

I looked down at him. “Weak doesn’t mean unlikable.”

Oran’s dark gaze met mine. “It does to a wolf.”

“And a dragon,” Lochlen cut in.

I glared at them both. Kye’s lips twitched. He didn’t understand the wolf, but he got the gist of the conversation. Cadeyrn watched us.

“You really understand the animal?” the prince asked.

I looked at him. “I do,” I answered. “There’s another traveling with us. She’s a falcon. You won’t see her unless she wants to be seen, but she is around nonetheless. I’d appreciate it if no bowmen shot at her.”

Cadeyrn dropped the documents back onto the table before leaning his hip casually against the wooden surface.

“Such power, and yet so untrained,” he murmured. “It’s a pity.”

“It’s a crime,” Kye responded hotly, “and in our country, it means death.”

Cadeyrn watched us a moment.

“You realize, I am obligated to bring you to Sadeemia. With the threat you’ve so boldly accused your king of, you will be forced to face my father,” the prince said finally.

I stepped toward the prince, my face flushed with anger, but Kye took me gently by the arm and pulled me back against his chest.

“If we went back with you now, there would be no time to stop the assassination of the Greemallian princess,” Kye said firmly.

Cadeyrn ignored Kye, his gaze moving to my face.

“Who did your king order you to write the missive to?” he asked.

Kye’s hands tightened on my arms. I took strength from it.

“A Captain Blayne Dragern,” I answered.

Cadeyrn stiffened. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, my anger fading at the fury now emanating from the formidable prince. I pressed as close to Kye as I could.

“Who is he to you?” Kye asked.

He noted something in Cadeyrn’s expression. We all did. Cadeyrn turned away from us, his hands clutching the table. His knuckles were white against the wood, his shirt tight against a broad-muscled frame. I thought I spied another tattoo beyond the white material, but he shifted before I could be sure.

“My uncle,” Cadeyrn answered softly, turning toward us, his mouth set in a grim line. “We leave for the coast at daybreak.” His eyes moved to ours. “We are a week’s journey from the coast where we sit now in the Ardus. Be prepared for a fight. Even food will not hold the wyvers off for a week. As for your king ...” Cadeyrn pushed away from the table, moving so that he stood nose to nose with Kye, me between them. “If what you say is true, and an assassination attempt is made on my fiancée, then there will be war. And your king
will
pay.”

I was overwhelmed by the scent of pine and something exotic. Jasmine maybe? Or something spicier. Kye and Cadeyrn.

Kye’s hands fell from my arms to my waist, anchoring me against him. “The only thing I ask in return is your support of the rebel cause and my ascension to the Medeisian throne,” Kye said.

Cadeyrn stared at him. “So this is about power then?”

Kye glared. “No, this is about giving my people hope. It’s about giving my people a ruler they can believe in.”

Cadeyrn grunted. “You believe ruling is about hope?” he asked.

Kye grew still. “Don’t you?”

Cadeyrn’s blue gaze was cold and icy. “You’ll learn,
Kye
, that ruling is as much about death and lies as it is about hope.”

Kye stood his ground. “People die for hope,” he responded.

“They also die for stupidity,” Cadeyrn pointed out.

I looked up, my gaze going from one strong chin to another. Both men were tall and intimidating, although for different reasons. Kye was a map of scars, lean and jaded by his childhood and his time among King Raemon’s army. I wasn’t sure what it was that jaded Prince Cadeyrn. His consort had mentioned a murdered wife, but there was something else there, too. Something deeper.

“I would die for stupidity if it meant living in freedom,” I said softly between them.

Cadeyrn’s gaze moved to mine. Kye’s arms tightened possessively.

“Would you, Aean Brirg?” he asked.

Aean Brirg. In Sadeemian, it meant
little bird
. I stared up at him, at the frown that marred his brow.

He leaned down slightly. “War may change your mind. It will strip you of morals, will take away hope and love and replace it with something dark and cold. It will clip your wings, Aean Brirg, and you will no longer fly.”

With that, Prince Cadeyrn stepped away from us, his glacial gaze moving to Kye’s face.

“You have my word. If what you say is true, and we go to war with your father, I will support your cause and see you sit on the Medeisian throne.”

“And your father would allow that?” Kye asked. “If Sadeemia won a war with Medeisia, would he not want to usurp complete power?”

It was a fear we all shared. We were in awe of the Sadeemians, even envied them their government, but we didn’t want to be a usurped country. We wanted to maintain our own power, to try our own hand at starting anew.

Cadeyrn brought his hand up, and we watched as he clenched his fist.

“My brother is the heir to the Sadeemian crown. I am the only other royal who could ascend the Medeisian throne, and believe me when I say, I have
no
interest in ruling.”

We didn’t doubt the look in Cadeyrn’s eyes. He turned away from us, his back straight.

“Take them away!” Cadeyrn yelled.

Madden and Ryon both entered the tent, their hands on the hilt of their swords.

Cadeyrn looked at them. “Rest tonight, and have the guards switch watch often. We leave on the morrow for the coast.”

The soldiers didn’t argue, escorting us quickly from the tent.

I glanced back once to find the prince standing, his profile to the night, one fist clenched while the other clung to the blade of a sword. It didn’t seem to hurt him. Instead, he appeared to be wrestling strength from the metal. There was no time to wonder about it.

I watched the way his muscles relaxed. Comfort. He sought comfort from the blade. I’d often done the same when nestled among the trees.

Chapter 10

They placed all of us in the same tent and posted a guard outside. Cadeyrn might be willing to help a group of Medeisian rebels, but until he had the proof he needed to trust us, he wasn’t going to make our life easy.

“At least we’re clean,” Maeve pointed out.

There were beds in this enclosure similar to the one I’d seen in the prince’s tent. They were strange, sitting off the ground on metal legs that didn’t look sturdy enough to hold up a feather but were remarkably strong. Cots, the guards called it. They laughed when they saw our faces.

“Better a cot than a bedroll,” Ryon had teased. “This is the Ardus. Sleep on a bedroll and risk being stung by a scorpion.”

So far, we’d done just fine avoiding any arachnids since entering the desert, but maybe the guards were right. I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Let Brennus try it first,” Daegan said, his eyes on one of the beds. “He weighs the most.”

Brennus grunted, shoving Daegan from behind so that the short, but stocky brown-haired bowman landed indelicately on the closest cot. It didn’t collapse.

Brennus shrugged. “Seems fine.”

Lochlen moved to the sand, settling cross-legged next to Oran.

“You’re not worried about scorpions?” Maeve asked.

The dragon peered up at her, his reptilian eyes shining as he ran a hand down his arm. “It may look like human skin, but it isn’t.”

It was all he said. Maeve shivered before moving past him to the empty bed next to Daegan.

“They couldn’t leave us with the warrior women and consort?” Maeve grumbled.

Daegan’s head shot up. “Consort? As in mistress?”

Maeve grinned. “
Prince Cadeyrn’s
consort,” she reiterated.

Daegan’s face fell. “There’s only one?” he asked.

Brennus lay back on the cot opposite Maeve, his eyes going to Kye.

“Well, I’ll be. Ye should ‘ave a consort, Kye. Ye be a prince, too,” he said, his Rendohan accent more prominent when weary.

Kye coughed, avoiding our gazes as he lowered himself onto a cot nearest the tent’s exit.

“I’ve no interest in a consort,” he said.

Daegan laughed. “You be a man, right?”

Maeve reached over and slapped him on the back of the head. “We might not look like ladies most of the time, but Stone and I aren’t men. Hold your tongue!”

I settled onto a cot next to the tent’s wall. It put Brennus above me, and Kye at my feet. Lochlen and Oran were on the sand next to me.

I patted the bed, my eyes on the wolf. “Lochlen may have a tough hide, but you do not. Take the extra cot or sleep here at the end of mine.”

Brennus chuckled. “If I didn’t know ye was talkin’ to the wolf, I’d take ye up on that offer, Stone.”

I threw him a look.

Maeve groaned. “Maybe you could
all
use a consort.”

Oran’s fur shook. “I’ll take my chances in the sand, Phoenix.”

I shrugged, tuning out Brennus’ monologue about Sadeemian women and how strangely appealing they were.

“I think their magic is interesting,” I said suddenly, breaking into the conversation just as Daegan was about to begin his own spiel about the necessity of consorts in general.

Maeve lifted her head. “I wouldn’t mind learning that trick they do with temperature,” she agreed.

Both Daegan and Brennus nodded. We were all mages, all of us except for Kye.

“I like their confidence. I often find I’m afraid of my magic,” I admitted.

Brennus grunted again. “It’s because we aren’t trained. We have to figure it out as we go.”

I looked at him. “What
can
you do, Brennus?” I asked.

His gaze met mine. “I’m good with stone,” he said, “and I can hear things sometimes. Voices.”

Daegan harrumphed. “We always knew you were mad, Brennus.”

Brennus rose up on his elbows. “Says the man who has odd dreams, and draws strange pictures in the dirt.”

Daegan sniffed. “I used to paint before I was marked.”

I watched them. I already knew what Maeve could do. She could manipulate fire, had accidentally burned down part of a marketplace before being marked because of it.

“Useful skills,” Kye said from his cot. We all turned toward him. His eyes moved over our faces. “
All
of them, useful. King Raemon’s tyranny must be stopped.”

I stared at him, at his beautiful face, at the scars that started at his neck and moved down into the white tunic he now wore. I noticed Maeve did the same.

“Does it ever bother you,” I asked him quietly. His gaze shot to mine, and I gestured at our group. “Does it bother you that we are all mages, but you were born with no magic?”

Kye threw us a half-smile. “It did once. My father is a convincing man. He often ranted about the risk mages could have on people without magic. We, as normal folk, have no defense against magic attack, he always said. I suppose that’s true. There are bad mages, Captain Neill for example, but there are good ones too, and they are dangerous only if untrained. It’s the same with knowledge. Knowledge is power in itself. Without it, we are all defenseless.”

Brennus and Daegan both nodded thoughtfully before their heads lowered, their backs resting once more against the cots. Maeve watched Kye, her expression a curious collection of emotions. Love, maybe? Or infatuation. Definitely respect. I hoped my face didn’t look like hers, but I feared it did.

“I’d like to learn to read,” Maeve admitted, her voice loud in the quiet enclosure before she reclined, her eyes going to the tent’s pinnacle. Her lids were heavy. I heard Brennus snore.

Lochlen yawned and curled up in the sand. How odd it looked to see a grown male attempt to coil up like a lizard.

“This conversation has grown too deep for me tonight,” Lochlen grumbled.

I grinned down at his odd figure. “I thought dragons didn’t need much sleep.”

Lochlen snorted and smoke curled up into the dim space. It blew out the only candle in the tent, and threw the space into darkness.

“Tonight, Phoenix, we all rest,” he said.

His words seemed to coax sleep from Daegan and Maeve. Maeve’s whistling breath and Daegan’s grumbling slumber met Brennus’ snore in the night. I lay in the darkness as long as I could, staring up into the pitch black gloom. There was light around the tent flap from the fires that burned beyond. Strange for a desert, but I assumed the Sadeemians had a reason. Maybe it was to warn away the wyvers.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I lowered my feet to the sand. I’d kept my boots on before lying in the cot, not wanting to find a scorpion hiding within them, or a sand-colored desert snake seeking shelter. I’d heard about scorpions and sand snakes all of my life. Anyone who grew up within sight of the Ardus border was raised on desert stories. Some of them were too outlandish to be true, no doubt, but fascinating.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Kye’s voice asked in the darkness.

I smiled.

“It’s the scribe in me, always curious,” I answered as I shuffled through the sand, moving slowly so I wouldn’t trip over the cots or Lochlen and Oran. My eyes were glued to the outlined tent flap.

I heard Kye sit up, moving so that he stood behind me as I reached the fabric entry. I lifted the flap.

A few small fires burned beyond. Men and women moved around them, lifting and lowering large pots on and off the flames before scrubbing tunics and cooking foodstuff.

“It’s cooler at night. It seems reasonable that they would do the most work when it was dark,” Kye said into my ear, his breath fanning the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck. I shivered.

His arm snaked around my waist, and I closed my eyes. My skin tingled where he touched me, even with the tunic separating his arm from my stomach.
 

“We never got a chance to talk after—” Kye began.

I turned around in his arms, my fingers going to his lips.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Stone—”

I shushed him again. “I can’t remember ever wanting to be anything other than a scribe. In my heart, I’ve always believed that
everything
had a word to describe it, that
anything
could be written about, that there was
nothing
that couldn’t be said aloud. I was wrong. Some things have no words to describe them. Some things can’t be defined.”

Kye’s hand came up to my face, cradling it, his thumb rubbing across my cheekbone. His eyes studied my face before he bent, his lips sliding across my jaw, leaving a sensitive trail from my chin to my cheek.

He paused, his mouth going next to my ear. “Once upon a time, a pair of wide, sad eyes stared out at me from a dark wagon,” he whispered. “The girl’s cheek was cut, her skin covered in dirt, and I knew her heart was breaking. I had heard, even
felt
, the unbelievable pain in her scream when her companion was murdered. And still, she fought. She spit at her tormentors and cursed them. And then she ran. She ran, and she ran, heading toward a desert that would kill her as quickly as it would protect her. In that moment, I felt my heart change. Maybe there are no words. You’re right, Stone. Maybe, in these times, it’s better not to say them. But ...”

Kye’s words trailed off, his gaze going over my head to the tent flap, to the Sadeemian people beyond. There were different men and women by the fires now. It seemed they worked in shifts, so that each group had time to rest. Many were packing bags and cleaning weapons in preparation for the journey to come.

I looked up at Kye’s face, my eyes searching his gaze. The flames from the camp beyond danced in his pupils.

“But?” I asked.

His gaze moved down to mine, his hand sliding into my hair, his fingers pulling gently on the short strands.

“But then,” he continued, “I remember the angry girl who looked up at the sky and ordered it to rain, the same girl who took a sword and broke the chains that bound me in a castle dungeon.”

He leaned closer, so close I could feel his lips move against mine as he spoke to me, felt the friction as he talked.

“I remember the girl who knelt in the middle of a rebel camp amidst people she barely knew and asked for a mark that would brand her as different. And in that moment, I felt every scar on my body tear open. They tore open, and they bled again.”

I almost smiled at his words. “That doesn’t sound pleasant,” I teased.

The feel of his lips as they continued to skim over mine was creating a spark between us, making my skin tingle from my lips to my fingertips, from my fingertips to my toes. I felt it when he smiled.

“Never unpleasant. Not when the one person who can heal them all is with me always,” he lifted my hand and placed it against his chest, “here.”

He wasn’t speaking anymore. His lips pressed against mine, and as he kissed me, I felt his heart beat against my palm. One thump ... two ...

I counted his heartbeats. Feeling its rhythm felt like standing in the middle of the forest. It felt like skimming my fingers through Oran’s hair. It felt like a pen scratching across parchment. Feeling his heart beat felt like coming home, and after having lost so much, a tear fell from the corner of my eye, leaving a trail from my cheek to my lips. Kye kissed away the salt, his lips lifting.