Startled, I acted on purest instinct, wrapped his ankles in woody young vines and dragged the ki from his body before I realized who it was. Before I heard the note of camaraderie in a voice I knew, I’d drained the man of his ki before he could utter another polite word.
Ancaster collapsed in a boneless heap at my feet. Eyes showing white, lips slack, a drop of drool hung stringy and wet from his chin.
“Goddess,no,” I breathed, coming back to myself with a horrific jolt. And, hands beginning to tremble, I knelt. Desperate to feel the flutter of life, horrified that it might be… absent. That I’d killed without a thought. Or worse… for the pleasure of vengeance, without a single instant of hesitation.
Ancaster’s chest rattled, laboring to draw breath, but alive.
Shaken, I exhaled a sob, returned what I’d stolen, then fled into the night. Feet flying over fallen logs, leaping quiet streams, and darting between trees both old and young. I didn’t stop until sweat had soaked through my tunic and my sorrow fermented and went sour, replaced by bubbling rage.
Hehad done this, not me. Infecting me with his Elite corruption. Endangering the lives of the only people I had left.
It ended tonight.
Giving my heart a moment to settle and slow, I knelt by the edge of a stream. Splashing my face. The back of my neck. Trying to cool my heated skin and brace for the coming battle.
The captain was close, for in my blind flight, I’d run straight toward the source of comforting lies, hunting the return of my pendant and the frosty nothingness that came with it. It wouldn’t take long to find where he waited, but I’d come plenty far enough.
Whatever trap he’d set for me would have to be abandoned if he desired another encounter. Another chance to enslave me.
So I settled in to wait, letting the night breeze dry my tunic and the sweat-soaked hair plastered to my nape. I glutted myself with the forest’s bounty, so the captain would have nothing to cling to when he finally appeared. No more taunting, perplexing heat could slip beneath my defenses if the vessel was already stuffed to overflowing, now could it?
I didn’t waste that time with girlish hesitation, but neither did I set a trap—the only backup I needed was the forest herself. The only thing I did in preparation, was remove my sandals and bury my feet in the forest’s strength. That way, all he had to do was touch a living thing connected to the great-grandmother oak, and I’d have my way. I’d have my pendant, and be finished with the betrayer and his lies forever.
Long before the underbrush crunched, I felt him. Couldn’t helpbutknow where he was. Could hardly sense anythingbutthe Captain of Special Forces and all his hypnotic, blinding power. And with the Trila-Glís captured, why should he bother to hide? I was the only one left who knew his secret. The only one who could sense the coming hurricane and hope to see what lurked inside that storm.
There was no ceremony that accompanied his arrival. And for several long minutes, neither of us spoke. Separated by a chattering stream that might as well have been a bottomless chasm, I was afforded the luxury of sizing him up without the risk of falling prey. Trying to see everythingbutthe hard lines of so handsome a face. The broad shoulders hidden beneath a uniform that fit too well, and showed no signs of hard travel as my own simple tunic did. The gleam of gold on his shoulders that denoted his rank as a Caledonian Captain. On his hip, a belt weighted down with a weapon and several pouches of various things that didn’t concern me.
And around his neck, a hint of silver, for my pendant lay safe. Next to his polluted heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said at length, taking a step closer. Voice petting and soothing, a breathy whisper I strained not to hear. “Your father—”
“Don’t.” I shook my head, trembling inside and out. Not ready to look directly at the wound that had yet to fester. It was too soon to lance it.
He swallowed, offering a tiny frown that positivelyreekedof sincerity. Real regret. “Ah. Well. Iamsorry. That”—he clenched his jaw, making the muscle twitch—“his death was never my intention.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” he agreed, inky eyes reflecting the moonlight for an instant before that light was swallowed up.
I extended my right hand, palm up. Letting him see the scars without seeing the brand.Hisbrand. “I want my pendant.”
Wickedness replaced the sorrow. “Then give me back my ring.”
“You know I can’t.”
He shrugged, tugging my pendant out. Letting the Glaith catch the silver light. His thumb passing over the stone. Slowly. Black gaze fixed to my face, making sure I felt it in all the most secret places. “I’ll settle for your name, little Priestess.”
But I refused to be baited. “If you were really sorry,” I hissed, shivering, “then you’d have come offering General Tilcot’s head.”
Asher exhaled a breathy laugh. “Not so innocent after all, but a bloodthirsty warrior. You impress me more with every passing moment.”
Cheeks burning, it was my turn to laugh, though it held none of his cool restraint. “Watching everything you love burn before your eyes can have that effect on a girl. Why don’t you come here and find out just how serious I am?”
He took another step, though this time, he had the courtesy to let the smile slip away. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Come with me, warrior Priestess, and I’ll help you kill the general myself.”
Lies. Tempting lies cloaked in a beautiful package, but lies all the same. I shook my head, clenching the shiny scars twisting my right hand. “Don’t take another step, traitor.”
Full lips flicked in amusement. “Or what?” he drawled, daring me to follow through.
