The party boy who flitted from one realm to another in search of the grandest balls, leaving a trail of broken hearts and bitter drinking partners in his wake.
Hardly the kind of person the fierce, hardworking people of Solkar’s Reach would warm up to.
Dax refused to publicly reveal even a modicum of his abilities and I’d accepted that a long time ago. Sadly, I knew why he used his Protectorate powers only in the direst of circumstances, but some of his other skills could have been celebrated without drawing any unwanted attention.
Right now, though, that image he’d so painstakingly created, which opened gilded doors across Malhaven, would be nothing but a hindrance.
Coupled with the godsawful timing of his arrival, it was no wonder my palms already sweated and my chest constricted.
That same strange pulse gripped my skull, slithering up to my temples.
It took all of my self control not to turn around.
There had been nothing waiting to attack in the forest, and there wouldn’t be any now, in broad daylight, surrounded by so many fearsome fighters.
All of them were bundled in furs that made them look even more massive, swords and axes strapped to their backs and leather belts as they flanked the fortress steps.
None of them had fought by our side in the crater’s passage. Hadn’t bled for Solkar’s Reach only a day ago. Those warriors were still being healed and fussed over by Mrs. Thornbrew.
Which meant none of these fighters had seen me in the ceremony, joining blood and magic with their Brothers and Sisters. Or in battle to protect their land.
Real trust took proof and time.
Still, it stung when the warriors tensed as we approached, ice gazes tracking Dax’s every move. My presence beside him did little to justify the intrusion in their eyes, and it made my stomach tighten.
They exchanged quick glances among them, hands circling their bloody weapon hilts, before their questioning stares raced to me. A familiar reaction. It made my skin crawl and my soul soar at the same time.
The anticipation of a command.
A decision.
A course of action they needed someone else to choose.
With Ryker gone, every choice–and every consequence–fell to me. A burden I had to carry, whether I liked it or not.
Like always.
I gave them the curt nod I’d perfected back in Aquila, trained to signal utmost confidence and soothe fears.
They loosened their hold on their weapons, but the tension didn’t vanish.
Mistrust hung thick in the air, ready to ignite, and one spark–a look, a whisper–could set the whole thing ablaze.
Dax had a weird tension straining his shoulders, ready to pounce.
“You need to relax,” I muttered, apprehension pulsed against me from all sides.
“Back at you,” he whispered from the corner of his lips.
With each step, the palpable suspicion grew.
I knew what they were seeing.
An intruder.
Perhaps two.
And many, many,manymore sets of suspicious eyes waited for us inside.
