He used his powers to summon a bag of ice. “Here.” He gently placed it against her brow. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Watch your back, brother. Diflyn will be coming for you and he could be anyone. He wants you and X dead.”
“I’ll be watching. In all aspects.” Masakage watched as she finally closed her eyes to rest.
Her powers had always amazed him. While their mother was a sorceress of unparalleled power, Candara made a mockery of her abilities. Even as a child. Headaches had often rendered her unable to function. Her father had beat her unmercifully over them, thinking she used them as a reason to get out of chores.
But he understood. His own powers crushed him, too. But nowhere near as badly as they did her.
He went to the table near the window where he’d placed his ale. Reaching into his travel pouch, he pulled a tisane out and poured it into the cup. Stirring it slowly, he waited for it to dissolve. Then he took it to the bed.
“I have something for the pain.” He lifted her head carefully from the pillow.
She scowled at him then glanced down to the cup. “Your potion or mine?”
He laughed at her belligerent tone. “Yours, of course. Mine aren’t as effective.”
“No, they’re not.” She took the cup and drank it down, then returned it to his hand. “Thank you.”
“Always.” He waited for her to return to her spot, then he placed a light kiss on her forehead.
Making sure she was fine, he put the cup back on the table and left the room.
Diflyn.
Out of habit, he reached into his bag and pulled out a coin. Five clubs. Conflict. Fighting.
Candara was right. He was out for their blood.
But there was something more. He felt it in his bones. Something neither he nor Dara saw.
It was coming for them.
This wasn’t the time for his powers to be vague. As much as he hated seeing what would come, he hated not knowing even more.
They needed to lay hands on the mer prince as quickly as possible and get this contract broken so that Dash would be able to ratchet up the war with Meara and be done with her.
They all needed to be done with the centaur queen.
Sooner rather than later.
Diflyn transformed into his “normal”form of a royal courtier. Garyn thought himself so proper and prim. Bastard had no idea who or what Diflyn really was.
Not some second in command or flunkey.
He would never be subservient to anyone. The blood of dynasties flowed through him.
The only reason he traveled with Garyn was because he needed a flunkey so that he could stay in the shadows. Not out of fear. Caution.
Now, he had a report to make.
Approaching the castle gates as a centaur, he tugged at the lapels of his military coat to straighten it. The one thing about Meara, she couldn’t abide anyone who wasn’t immaculately dressed.
He inclined his head to the guards as he walked past them and across the drawbridge. He would give the queen credit, even in the light of day, there was order in her capital. No one rushed about. Children didn’t play in the streets. Everyone went about their business in somber silence.
Some would find it appalling. He found it refreshing. The queen kept order. Not chaos. That was sorely missing in the other kingdoms he’d visited.
There was nothing like being home.
