Defy (25 page)

The questions were, what was he looking for
and what information did he need?

Before they could discuss this more in-depth,
a group of Waresti entered the area that Bertram and Tycho had set
up as their tentative shelter. It wasn’t much more than a twiggy
overhang beside a muddy pond, but it was all they had.

The moment the nearly-silent Waresti
approached, Bertram looked around in a panic to ask Tycho what he
thought they should do, only to find the other Mercesti gone.

So here he was, huddled down in a muddy hole,
silently cursing Tycho and hoping the Waresti passed through the
area without doing a very thorough search. His hopes were dashed as
the largest of the group came into sight. Bertram easily recognized
the huge, blond male with orange markings lining every inch of his
upper body…a testament to the number of Mercesti lives he had
taken.

The Waresti commander, Harold.

There were very few reasons the Waresti
commander would be leading a standard patrol on the mainland. His
services were generally extended toward training Waresti warriors
at Central. Bertram knew the commander also spent a lot of time
training with the three daughters of Saraqael, as well as their
growing brood of children.

Could his presence on the mainland be related
to the sisters?

Curious and eager to learn more, Bertram
risked his life by edging closer to the opening of the muddy pit
serving as his only camouflage and watched as the Waresti
communicated with each other using their silent hand signals.
Because he was a converted Waresti himself, Bertram remembered many
of those signals. They were changed frequently for just that
reason, but he knew the patterns well enough that he could
interpret pretty well through context.

His eyes widened as he watched the
interaction and silently translated what they communicated. They
were looking for a lost Kynzesti.

Elation coursed through him as he realized
that this was just the information that he and Tycho needed. There
were no beings more highly protected from the rest of Estilorian
society than the Kynzesti. As a result, very little was known about
them or their abilities. But because they were the children of the
daughters of Saraqael as well as the powerful Gloresti elder
Gabriel and the Gloresti James and Caleb, there was no doubt in
Bertram’s mind that a Kynzesti would make an exceptional bargaining
chip.

He didn’t know what Eirik was trying to find,
but he was willing to bet at least one of the elders would be able
to tell him where it was. And if a Kynzesti was a prisoner of the
Mercesti, the elders might be willing to trade the information for
the child’s life.

Now, he thought as the Waresti moved on, he
and Tycho just had to find the lost Kynzesti before the Waresti
did.

Tate allowed herself a good, long cry after
Tiege faded from her thoughts. Her emotions were all over the
place.

He was coming for her.

In these terrifying days since regaining
consciousness, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider the
alternative. If she had, it would have crippled her. Now that she
knew her brother was on his way, she acknowledged the doubt that
sat like a stone in her heart.

Her disappearance had happened so quickly
that her family might not even know what had happened to her. They
could have assumed she was dead and never initiated a search. She
could have managed to get herself killed out there on her own and
they would have never known any different.

After connecting with Tiege for that brief
moment of time, it had been painful to have him once again fade
from her thoughts. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her
family again.

She found a fairly sheltered area that
provided a view of anyone approaching and allowed the emotions to
make their way through her system. One feeling after the next
toppled around inside her, provoking tears that she didn’t even
bother to wipe as they fell. Fear, uncertainty, exhilaration,
love.

When she had purged the rush, she produced
some water and cleaned herself up. Then she closed her eyes and
focused.

Sparky glared at her from where he stood in
the shade of a pine tree rubbing the center of his chest. “You
really must learn to control your emotions,” he greeted her.

She couldn’t stop the wide smile from
spreading over her face when she saw him. Her pulse raced in a way
that she knew wasn’t normal as she once again stood within sight of
him. She couldn’t really explain her reaction since he always
seemed annoyed by her presence. For some reason, though, his
perpetual glower had become a source of great comfort to her.
Perhaps it was their strange connection, or perhaps there was some
flaw in her character that caused her to be charmed by grumbling,
disinterested males. But she found herself making the impulsive
decision to have her goodbye to him be a memorable one.

Approaching him, she responded, “Hiya,
Sparky.” She liked how the setting sun filtering through the trees
turned his burnished hair a rosy gold. She suspected he would be
insulted to know the light softened his appearance. “I wanted to
come and tell you goodbye.”

He frowned, another expression with which she
had grown very familiar. “What?”

“I’m hoping that you have some kind of
connection with Nyx so you can call her back.” She stopped less
than a foot from him. Her words must have surprised him enough that
her nearness didn’t register, as he didn’t back away. “I have
someone on the way to get me. I won’t need Nyx’s help anymore.”

“Who is coming for you?” His eyes searched
her face, but she couldn’t read his expression.

“Oh, no one for you to worry about,” she said
with a wave of her hand. When his frown intensified, she added,
“I’ll be fine. I’m staying put until he gets to me. It shouldn’t be
more than a day or so. Just hours at this point.”

“He?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you
know you can trust this male?”

“We’ve known each other as long as I’ve been
alive,” she answered, being deliberately vague. There was a reason
he had chosen to remove himself from the rest of Estilorian society
for so long that he didn’t know anything about her class. She
figured the less he knew about her at this point, the better. After
all, he had even issued the warning that she shouldn’t trust him.
She may be more trusting than was wise, but she wasn’t a fool.

“How did you hear from him?” he asked.

She tapped the side of her head. “Kinda like
you and me, Sparky.”

His gaze grew shuttered. His frown faded into
a cold mask. “I do not have a way of calling Nyx back.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh.” Considering that,
she asked, “Do you have any idea how long it might take her to
reach me if I don’t go anywhere?”

“It should be less than a day. She will
mostly follow from the ground to more easily track you and evade
detection by others, so it is hard to say.”

She brightened. “Okay, then. I’ll stick
around until she gets there and then tell her I’m okay. She’s smart
enough to understand what I’m saying, right?”

He hesitated. “She should understand,
yes.”

“Great! No problem. We can wait for her to
arrive if she takes longer to get there than my knight in shining
armor.”

Now he looked puzzled, which humored her. “My
rescuer,” she explained. Then she moved even closer to him. This
time, since he wasn’t focused so much on what she was saying, he
noted her closeness. He started to step back. “Wait,” she said. “I
didn’t get the chance before to say goodbye. And I’m sort of
experimenting with my abilities here. Would you stay still and let
me see if I can focus enough to touch you?”

He blinked. “Touch me?”

“Yes.” She was mildly embarrassed by the
breathless nature of her voice when she responded. Focusing with
all her might, she reached out and placed her palm on his
chest.

Lord, he was hard. She was thrilled to feel
the heat from his skin radiating through the tank top he wore as
she touched the well-defined muscles of his upper body. Bringing up
her other hand, she gently ran her fingers from his pectoral
muscles to his sculpted shoulders and biceps, tracing a few of the
dark blue designs decorating his skin. Then her touch progressed to
the sides of his neck and the sharp planes of his face.

She hadn’t been around many males to whom she
wasn’t related. She’d certainly never kissed a male in a romantic
way. In truth, although she could admit curiosity about the
intimate experience, she’d never had any burning desire to give it
a try. That had suddenly changed.

When she leaned up with her eyes on the
sinful curve of his lips, he suddenly shoved her away with enough
force that her partly-manifested form collided with the trunk of a
tree.

“Goodbye,” he said without any inflection. He
could have been looking at crusted dirt on his boot for all the
concern he gave her.

She rubbed the sting to her back and shoulder
as well as to her pride as her shock over his response faded into
understanding and humiliation.

“Goodbye, Sparky,” she murmured.

Then she pulled her focus back to where it
should be: in the shadows of the mountain waiting to return to the
home she should never have left in the first place.

In the form of the harpy eagle, Sophia soared
over the Mercesti camp. She took full advantage of the bird’s
marvelous eyesight to fully scope out what she and Quincy
faced.

They had both agreed that it would be helpful
to have a literal birds’ eye view of the group they followed. Since
they hadn’t come across any Waresti to help them out, they were on
their own. That meant she was off in the form of the unsuspicious
eagle while he waited for her back in the forest. They couldn’t
risk him being spotted by the Mercesti because he flew with
her.

She knew this arrangement bothered him. She
could only assume it was due to male pride. He surely wished he was
the one in the air. Thinking this, she rejoiced a bit more as she
flew.

While at first it did appear that their
estimates regarding the number of Mercesti containing the Lekwuesti
female had been accurate, she realized as she conducted a wider
sweep of the area that more Mercesti approached the central group
from multiple directions. That realization alarmed her. She lost
count at a hundred and knew there were many more than that on their
way.

Just as she turned to fly back to the spot
where Quincy waited for her, a flash of metal caught her eye. Fear
shot through her as she attempted to outmaneuver the bolt headed in
her direction. She managed to avoid getting shot through the chest,
but scorching pain flared in her right wing, releasing a cry from
her throat.

The second bolt flew past her before she even
saw it. This one slid along her ribs and missed her heart by
inches.

Angling herself in the direction of Quincy’s
location, she tried not to think about the pain and the blood she
was losing. She had to focus on maintaining her shift or she’d
crash to the ground, something she’d never survive from this
height. The moment she spotted him, she issued another cry to get
his attention. He looked up at her.

Evidently noticing that she favored her right
wing, he hurried over and grabbed his satchel and her clothing from
the hollow log where she had stashed them. She was relieved when
she saw him move to a relatively grassy area with plenty of
room.

She didn’t land gracefully. In fact, she lost
her shift just as she neared the ground. Fortunately, Quincy must
have anticipated her exhaustion because he moved to intercept her.
They fell as he accepted her full weight at her flying speed. She
noticed that he twisted his body so he didn’t land on her.

As soon as they stopped sliding, she found
herself lifted in his arms and hurriedly carried over to where he’d
left his supplies.

“They had—crossbows,” she said. The pain in
her chest and side made it difficult to get the words out. “Don’t
know why—they shot me.”

Unexpected fury flashed in his expression at
the words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he quickly laid her on
the grass, giving her a once-over to assess the damage and then
covering her unharmed lower body with her gown. She could only
appreciate his concern for her modesty.

She looked down at herself, following
Quincy’s concerned gaze. One of the bolts had sliced the outside of
her right forearm. The second caught her along her right side, the
resulting gash running along her rib cage and curving all the way
up to the top of her right breast. It bled freely and she figured
it would require stitching.

Quincy grabbed a clean cloth from his satchel
and pressed it against her side to staunch the flow of blood. She
found herself needing to distract herself from thinking about his
hands being on her.

“They must have thought—I was something—they
could eat,” she said, her words broken by gasps of pain.

He touched the side of her face so he could
look into her eyes. She guessed he was gauging for signs of shock.
She felt stable enough, which he seemed to determine as he studied
her. The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek. It was such a
tender caress that her heart thrilled even as confusion wrinkled
her brow, and it was over as quickly as it happened.

“Don’t talk,” he said as he reached into his
satchel and pulled out a couple of bottles. He deftly mixed two
liquids together by combining them into one of the bottles and
shaking it. “Conserve your energy.”

“Talking—takes my mind off—the pain.”

She saw from his expression that he didn’t
appreciate her arguing with him. Well, that was too bad. She was
the one suffering here, and she desperately needed to focus on
something besides the pain and just where he was going to have to
touch her to mend her injuries.