Divided Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 4) (7 page)

22

Grace

G
race recognized what the sag in Bran’s shoulders and his lowered head meant. He was defeated. It couldn’t be this way. It wouldn’t!

Donell released her to claim the jewel and Grace didn’t hesitate to throw herself forward, slamming into the man so hard they both fell.

“Grab it!” she shrieked. She was on top of Donell, now, her body flat, trying to keep him down. “Grab the sky jewel!”

With a heave of his shoulder, Donell threw Grace off of him. She pitched head over heels into the snow. The fiery haired nomad scrambled forward, frantically reaching for the sky jewel, but Grace desperately grabbed him by a leg, pulling back with all her strength. “Stop him, Bran!” Her voice was a scared squeak. “Help!”

Bran darted forward, running toward them. A tall nomad Grace didn’t recognize jumped in Bran’s path, but with a surge of crackling magic, Bran slammed him aside.

“I’m going to kill you.” Donell snarled at Grace, wrenching his leg free. His face was twisted in savage rage. Spinning to face her, he backhanded her across the face. “I’m going to
kill
you!”

“Donell!” Bran roared. He’d almost reached them, magic crackling around him. He was only a few yards from the blue shard and hurtled toward it.

Donell turned toward Bran and summoned his own magic, forming a long, thin blade in one hand. He was still closer to the sky jewel and ran toward it.

Lifting his arms, magic surged from Bran and the earth crumbled under the younger nomad’s feet. Donell stumbled backward with a cry, falling. He lifted a hand instinctively to shield himself when Bran grabbed the sky jewel and stepped forward. The shard pulsed with light.

Grace’s heart quavered as she looked at Bran’s face. The man was ready to do murder, she could see it in his eyes. Standing, she staggered toward him, hand outstretched. “No, Bran.” She was exhausted. “Don’t do it.”

Bran’s breathing came hard. His expression could’ve been carved from stone as he stood over Donell. The young nomad’s face was ashen, a stark contrast to his red hair.

Moving to stand next to Bran, Grace tentatively touched his arm. “Not like this, Bran.”

“You’ve stooped low enough to kidnap a woman,” Bran spat at Donell as if he hadn’t heard Grace, “I’ll assume you kidnapped the children from Ruis too. What did you do with them?”

Donell’s mouth gaped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What children?”

“I’m
this
close to killing you, Donell.” Bran held up a nearly touching thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”

Donell grimaced. “I won’t pretend to feel pity for anything that happens to the Oppressors, but aside from Grace—” he shot a venomous look at her, “—I haven’t kidnapped anyone.”

“You’re lying,” Grace snorted. “My father was right. Someone with magic stole them, and you’re the only nomad horrible enough to do something like that.”

When neither of the men responded, Grace looked at Bran. The man still towered threateningly over Donell, but he looked more puzzled than angry, now. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he said, still watching the younger nomad. “Who would take them?”

“I don’t know,” Donell admitted, “but if I find out, you can rest assured I will join them.”

Bran’s eyes flashed. “If I ever see you again,” his voice sounded harsh in the silent camp, “you won’t live to regret it, Donell.”

The young nomad was tight-lipped, but didn’t move, crouched in the snow. He was brash and impulsive, but he wasn’t a complete fool. He nodded stiffly.

“Let’s go.” Bran spoke to Grace, turning his back on Donell in a show of confidence and pride. He took Grace by the arm as they walked out of the small camp. No one made any move to stop them.

“Are you all right?” Bran asked her once they were farther into the woods. He’d retrieved her mare from the camp as well, and Grace was perched on the saddle.

Grace nodded silently, a lump in her throat. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel scared while captured, but now it was all over, she shook uncontrollably.

“What happened?” Bran asked. He still sounded angry as he led her horse by the reins.

“I—” The words lodged in her throat. She’d been so stupid. Fooling herself, thinking she could be part of the clan, part of Bran. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. Any time she tried to involve herself she’d nearly ended up killed. “I was on my way home when he captured me.”

Bran said nothing as he continued to walk beside her mare, hand firmly gripping the reins.

Grace sniffled, wiping her nose. No tears. She
hated
crying where anyone could see her. It was weakness. She wasn’t weak. She
would not
cry. “I think I can find my own way home.” She tried to take the reins but Bran’s fingers wouldn’t budge. Curse men and their strength! “I’m all right, Bran.”

“I’m taking you back to camp,” he said, his voice hard. Was he angry with her? “You will have a proper escort this time.”

“I don’t need an escort,” Grace snapped. “And what do you care, anyway? You didn’t care enough to escort me last time. You don’t care about me.”

Bran looked at her, a look of pain on his face. “Do you really believe that?”

Grace sighed. “No. But you chose your clan over me. Why?” Moisture built in her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I was willing to accept you as you were, clan and all. But when
my
people needed help—” She choked on her words, unable to continue.
I will
not
cry!

Brow still lowered, Bran looked away, biting his lip. He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know what to do, Grace.” He shook his head, his jaw tight with frustration. “On the one hand, I have my clan. My people. They look to me for protection and leadership. On the other—” he drew a deep breath, “—I have my heart. My life. I love you Grace, I really do.” He ran a hand through his tangled brown hair. It had come out of its customary tail and hung wild about his face. Grace felt an ache in her heart looking at him. Had she been unfair? She didn’t have a clan, but she had a mother and father. That counted as the same thing, didn’t it?

“I. . .” She paused. What should she say? “We’re fools.”

Bran gave a short bark of laughter. “That we are.” His gaze softened as his eyes found hers. “But it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“Not really.”

Tugging on the reins, Bran led her mare through the trees. They were quiet after that, content to be in one another’s company. Grace thought of their future. Would there be a future? Bran loved her, she didn’t doubt that, but what did it mean? Did it mean anything?

“We’re here.” Bran broke the silence nearly an hour since leaving Donell behind. “The
real
nomad camp.”

It looked different in daylight. People bustled about on their personal errands. Grace noted the women seemed busier than the men;
much
busier. She wouldn’t stand for that at all, if she married Bran. She rather enjoyed spending her afternoons reading and shopping. “Why did you bring me back here?”

“Because of him.” Bran pointed to the middle of camp. A group of men from Ruis were there, as well as—

“Father!” Grace felt a smile bloom on her face. Slipping from the saddle, she ran through the slushy snow to her father, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.

Lord Flores returned her embrace, his arms tightening around her slim frame. He then stepped back, loosening his arms to look at her sternly. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Grace.” His brow was furrowed, his mustache practically bristling. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, running off like that?”

Grace opened her mouth to apologize, then stopped. She wasn’t sorry one bit. “I came to see if the nomads would help us locate the missing children,” she said. “But they won’t. We should leave.”

Lord Flores stiffened, putting a gentle hand to the side of Grace’s head. She winced slightly, feeling the bruise. “What happened?” His voice was low with anger.

“Nothing.” Grace jerked her head away from his hand. “We need to go.”

“Donell happened.” Bran stood at her shoulder. Grace hadn’t realized he’d followed her. He stood close. Too close, from her father’s expression. “He’s the one who took your daughter. I am sorry.”

“What did he have to gain from that?” Lord Flores’ voice was mild, but Grace felt herself tense. She knew that tone. Father’s temper was ready to ignite.

Bran hesitated, and Grace knew why. Telling her father of their interest in each other would hardly be wise at the moment. “Donell has little love for Ruis, father. He had to have known my abduction would upset you.” That wasn’t a lie, was it? “But thanks to the clan chief,” Grace inclined her head to Bran politely, “nothing came of it. May we go home now? I need to rest.”

“Yes.” Grace’s father tenderly led her to her mare and helped her mount. Sitting once again in the saddle, Grace stifled a yawn. She
was
tired.

“Well.” Lord Flores turned to face Bran, extending a hand. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, and I thank you for rescuing my daughter.”

“It was my honor.” Bran returned the handshake with a smile. His gaze moved to meet Grace’s, and her heart skipped a beat under his solemn brown eyes. She swallowed. Breathing was a little difficult at the moment.

“I bid you good day then.” Lord Flores motioned to one of the city guards to bring his horse and swinging up into the saddle, turned toward the city. “If your clan isn’t behind the children’s disappearance, I need to find out what is.” He glanced down at Bran. “You don’t suppose this other nomad is behind it, do you? Donald, wasn’t it?”

“Donell,” Bran corrected. He shook his head. “It wasn’t him.”

“Hmm.” Grace’s father didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press the matter. His gaze passed over the camp as if reminding himself that now wouldn’t be a good place to start an argument, regardless. “Let’s go home, dear.”

Heeling her mare forward, Grace followed her father out of the camp, away from Bran.

23

Bran

“
W
here are you going?” It was after supper and Kenroc watched Bran hastily pack a rucksack full of clothing.

“I’m going to Ruis. To help the magistrate find the missing children.”

“We’ve already discussed this.” Kenroc’s voice hardened. “You need to do what’s best for
your
people, Bran.”

Bran turned to face the older nomad. “Maybe what’s best for our people is to let go of the past, Kenroc, and to put the needs of
children
first, regardless of where they come from. It’s time we lay our prejudices aside. Aaric did. It’s the only reason we’re free, that your daughter is free.”

Kenroc’s face darkened. He didn’t respond, so Bran continued. “I love the clan, but I love Grace too. I admit that freely. And I’ve been thinking a lot about Adaryn. I used to think she was crazy to fall for an Oppressor, after everything they’d done to us. Why did she choose Aaric? Why didn’t she pick me? I would have married her.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Maybe she
was
crazy, after all was said and done. “But she saw past her prejudice to see Aaric for who he really was, and he did the same. They love each other for who they
are
, Kenroc. It doesn’t matter who they once were, or where they came from.”

Kenroc grimaced, shaking his head wryly. “You know that if you help Ruis, things will never be the same. Things will change.”

“Things have already changed.” Bran shrugged. “You can thank your daughter for that. There’s no going back. Things shouldn’t go back.” He grinned ruefully. “But I’m a love-struck fool too. I suppose my opinion doesn’t count for much right now.” He felt his smile slip.  “The clansmen won’t understand. So you will stand in as clan leader until I can return. You need to keep the rest of the clan strong and undivided. Donell may try to stir up trouble. Take them south, if you feel that’s best.”

“When will you return?”

“I don’t know.” Bran felt his voice catch, thinking of his own father. Oisin would have never approved of this. He swallowed and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. “It might be better if I don’t. I’m not the leader my father was.”

“No, you’re better than your father,” Kenroc growled, eyeing him fiercely. His eyes were blue, as blue as Adaryn’s. “You have your struggles, but you didn’t try to murder innocents and stir up war like Oisin did. I can’t say I agree with your helping Ruis, but don’t compare yourself to your father. You’ve made mistakes, but you’re a good man.” He trailed off, looking slightly abashed. Kenroc wasn’t one for speaking much.

Bran stared at him. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that.” He headed for the tent flap.

“Do you think she’s all right?” Kenroc asked suddenly. “Adaryn?”

Bran paused, considering the question. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. He smiled over his shoulder at the older man. “But this
is
Adaryn we’re talking about. If things aren’t going her way, she’ll change that soon enough.”

“That’s true.” Kenroc grinned back, but his eyes still looked worried. “Be careful, Bran.”

Bran crawled out into the cold twilight. A cold breeze had sprung up, but Bran hardly noticed. He’d chosen his path and would follow it to its end. Saddling Star, he rode toward Ruis.