Splendid. I believe you’ll find my offer exceptional. Expect a car downstairs in ten minutes. Your sister and the other two will be safe while you’re gone. If I wanted you captured you would already be sitting in front of me. I want to work with you, not be your enemy. Until we meet . . .
Tristan felt the presence seep out of his mind.
He stood up and wrote a note for his sister with instructions to stay in the room until he returned or contacted her telepathically.
If neither happened by tomorrow morning, he told her to contact Tzader Burke telepathically and ask for Belador protection.
Evalle trusted Tzader to be an honorable man.
Tristan hoped his trust in Evalle was as well placed.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kizira waited on her platform in her red robe dyed with the blood of dragons. She chanted the words that would cast the torch-lit hall under a shield of privacy. Gazing at the ten men dressed in gray robes, she counted nine of them as her most trusted warlocks.
But the tenth addition might prove to be her most valuable weapon. Twin snakes of conflict and loyalty twisted through her. Cathbad had compelled her loyalty, but her soul fought for freedom to choose which Beladors died and which one—Quinn—was spared.
She finished chanting and lowered the hood of her robe. “I have seen the breaching of the Castle Treoir in my visions.” Her face squirmed with a smile while murmurs of excitement surged through the room. “I have seen the face of the one who will lead the charge.”
When silence fell once more, she was ready to present their newest member. “We have waited a long time for this opportunity and for the one who will hand us the key to our success.” She gave a pointed look at her new disciple. “Step forward, brother, and tell everyone how we will triumph over the Beladors who have persecuted you even though you bleed their blood.”
Conlan O’Meary lowered the hood of his robe. “There is an Alterant who is ready to lead us to victory by breaching the warding of Treoir Castle. In return, we have offered this Alterant what no one else can, the end of being victimized by the Beladors. When the time comes to take possession of Treoir, Priestess, I will deliver you Evalle Kincaid, who will destroy the inhabitants of Treoir Castle and open the gates for you.”
Shocked silence hung in the air, then the warlocks cheered.
When Conlan lifted his hand, the warlocks quieted. “The Alterant Tristan has agreed to meet me, but he’s careful. I like that trait in someone I’ll be working with. Once we have Tristan in place, we’ll use him to bring Evalle in. I told you, Kizira, I understand how Beladors operate.”
THIRTY-NINE
Astiff breeze cut across the top of a thirty-story building that towered over Peachtree Street. Tzader had stood here long enough for the sun to set and turn downtown Atlanta into a sparkling jewel.
Evalle had been in that hole since this morning.
He wanted justice, but he would settle for satisfaction.
When energy charged through the air he didn’t turn to welcome the presence that arrived.
That might appear as though he were pleased to see her.
“Are you not happy to see me, Tzader?”
Swinging around, he leaned against the waist-high parapet wall, then crossed his arms and his legs. “Depends.”
“I’ve kept my part of the bargain. Evalle has been released from her cell and Brina’s hologram is free.”
He’d have enjoyed the relief those words gave him if not for the nasty taste of having had to bargain for what Macha should freely give. But he’d sworn loyalty to Macha as a child and owed her a level of respect. “Thank you.”
His father had once told him that few might understand Macha, but she made no decision about the Beladors that was not honorable and in the interest of protecting the tribe. He’d warned Tzader not to judge her too quickly, because time played a role in understanding many of her decisions.
No matter how many times Tzader told himself that, it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t see the reason behind the corner Macha had forced him into.
She smiled, her eyes changing from silvery blue to the color of sunlight striking blue-green Caribbean water. Her radiant red hair never seemed to remain still or even the same color, always busy finding a more flattering shape.
“What did you tell Evalle?” he asked.
“Just what we’d agreed upon. She’s to become my coordinator of Alterant research and pursue locating the missing Alterants.” Macha became impatient, tapping her foot. “I could have sent someone to find Tristan instead of freeing Evalle.”
“And risk Evalle falling into Medb hands?”
