Defy (17 page)

“What makes you so sure that the Elder Scroll
is what these Mercesti seek?” Olivia asked.

Knorbis exchanged a look with Malukali.
“That’s why we called this meeting. We just intercepted a thought
about this artifact. We can’t identify where it originated, but it
came through as though someone shouted it with their mind. We
confirmed that the thought didn’t come from one of us, so we must
assume it came from someone else on the mainland.”

“We applied our powers of intuition to recent
events,” commander Meda added. “This is very likely an accurate
deduction.”

Jabari said, “We have come to the conclusion
that, in light of the destructive actions being taken by the
Mercesti on the mainland, it would be wise to find the pieces of
the scroll ourselves before the Mercesti do. It is highly unlikely
that anyone will know what to do to activate the scroll even if all
three pieces are found. But we shouldn’t take any chances.”

There were nods around the table. Caleb
exchanged looks with Skye and their siblings.

“Okay,” Amber said at last. “What’s the
plan?”

Malukali said, “Knorbis and I will have to
retrieve the memories from the minds of Gabriel, Uriel and
Ini-herit—once he returns. Then we will figure out the best plan to
get the scroll pieces.” Since she sat next to Uriel, she turned to
him. “We can start with you.”

He nodded. As Malukali and Knorbis both stood
and placed their hands close to Uriel’s head, Caleb thought of
Tiege. His normally rule-abiding son had so believed that his
sister was still alive that he had inadvertently placed himself in
grave danger. If he somehow stumbled upon these rogue Mercesti and
got in their way…

His thoughts were distracted as he noticed
that Malukali and Knorbis both looked troubled. Before much longer,
the dark green and dark purple glow of their combined powers faded.
They looked at each other with deep concern etched on their
features.

“We have a problem,” Knorbis said. “Uriel’s
memory of the scroll piece’s location appears to be gone.”

When Zachariah left the colorfully-haired
female by the stream, he vowed to forget about her. He’d given her
all the advice and guidance he could, he told himself. Whether she
lived or died was none of his concern. He would just shove his
phantom discomfort aside.

Sure, he was still curious about her
oddly-colored markings. And maybe he found her pleasing enough to
look upon. But he had been away from Estilorian society for five
decades, after all. There was certainly the possibility that the
Scultresti had decided to introduce a new class of Estilorian to
the mix after so many centuries. As a class, they certainly did
enjoy variety and creativity. And after five decades, surely any
female—outside of the reptilian one he currently traveled
with—would seem appealing to him.

He deliberately ignored the fact that he’d
never looked at a female and experienced what he did looking at
this particular one.

As he returned from his induced meditative
trance and went to wash up in the nearby stream, he considered
which direction to travel when he next decided to move. The glade
in which he and Nyx now rested was peaceful and abundant in
resources. He’d seen wildlife to hunt, edible fruit and leaves not
far away, and, of course, the freshwater stream with which to slake
his thirst or wash away the day’s grime. It was ideal enough to
house them for at least a couple days. Possibly longer, if he so
desired. He didn’t sense any other Estilorians near them, which was
another benefit.

In the cover of darkness, he walked back to
the overhang of tree branches he had staked as his new sleeping
area. Nyx was already curled into her sleeping position and snoring
soundly. He started a fire before walking to the stream, and he now
knelt beside it wearing only his boots, holding up his clothes to
dry them off. He had decided to wash them while he was at the
stream. Although he could always steal clothing from unsuspecting
Estilorians on the mainland, it wasn’t terribly convenient or
practical, especially for a being his size. He tended to make each
set of clothing last as long as possible with frequent washing.

While he waited for his clothes to dry, the
lingering pains in his stomach abated. It didn’t matter to him that
the female had obviously succeeded in finding a meal. That
certainly was
not
relief he experienced when he was feeling
back to normal. And even if it was, it was merely because he didn’t
like being hungry or miserable.

When his clothes and hair were dry, he
redressed himself, slid his boots back on, took his tomahawk from
its harness and settled against Nyx’s warm underbelly. He closed
his eyes as the fire burned low. The sound of the wood crackling
was peaceful and lulling.

So he shouldn’t have been caught off-guard
when before long,
she
again invaded his dreams.

“Hi, Sparky.”

Tate noted his small twitch of surprise when
she spoke. As she settled herself cross-legged on the soft grass
across the fire from the large male, she couldn’t help but smile
when he opened one dark blue eye in response to her greeting and
gave her a baleful glare.

She noted that his raggedly-cut,
honey-colored hair was damp. For some reason, even though it had
obviously been washed, it still stuck up from his head in an
uncontrolled manner…something that gave her a sense of kinship to
him. It also appeared as though his tank top and pants had been
scrubbed. Patches of damp material clung to his well-muscled
form.

When she continued to stare at him, he sat
all the way up. She pulled the bulk of her long, spiraling hair
forward over her left shoulder so it wouldn’t trail on the ground
as she sat. She attempted to tuck some stray curls behind her right
ear, but most of them sprang back free as soon as her hand left her
head. She had kept the bright beads and feathers out of it for the
night, allowing her hair to dry free of any restraint.

His sharp eyes moved over her features,
seeming to note this change in her appearance. Somehow, his
expressionless face grew more severe.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled.

Amused by his discomfiture, she propped her
elbows on her legs and cradled her chin in her right hand. “I’m
sorry,” she said.

“What?”

She smiled again, her gaze never falling from
his. “I’m apologizing, Sparky. I was really rude to you, and you
didn’t deserve it.”

He just stared at her.

“And I wanted to thank you,” she added,
immensely enjoying his reaction. It pleased her to learn that
eating crow was much easier than she’d thought. “I doubt I would
have gotten past my hunger and frustration enough to think of using
my hair decorations as a fishing lure. It worked like a charm. Now
that I’m not so focused on starving to death, I realize how my
behavior must have seemed from your perspective. So I wanted to
apologize.”

He didn’t respond for a long moment. His eyes
searched her face as though seeking the answer to a silent
question.

“All right,” he said at last. “Goodbye.”

She laughed brightly at that. “You’re funny,
Sparky,” she said. “Heaven knows why I like you, but I sure
do.”

“You do not,” he argued. “You are merely
grateful for my assistance.”

For some reason, her humor only heightened.
“It surely doesn’t speak much to my taste or judgment that I find
your refusal to believe me even more appealing. Maybe I’m attracted
to helpless causes.”

His expression went blank over her choice of
phrase. “A female such as you should not be spending time with the
likes of me.”

“Why not?” she asked with a dismissive
shrug.

“Why not?” he repeated, his brows drawing
together in consternation. “I do not understand how you could even
ask such a question. What is wrong with you? How is it you are
not
concerned?”

“Well, now. Aren’t you full of questions for
a Gloresti who won’t even give me his name?”

“What?”

For once, he didn’t bother to mask his
surprise. She lifted one corner of her mouth. “Look, Sparky, I know
you’re curious about me. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve been away
from Estilorian civilization for quite some time. Why that is, I
can only guess. Maybe your last pairing with a Corgloresti went
awry and you’re harboring guilt over it. Judging by all of those
pairing markings, you must have been quite experienced before you
pulled yourself away from society.”

He glanced down at his arms where she noted
the many dark blue markings. His bemused expression didn’t diminish
as he looked back up at her.

“But I’m not going to press you,” she
continued amiably. “And I know better than to reveal too much to
someone I barely know. So we’ll just have to be content with having
a little bit of mystery in our relationship.”

“Relationship?” he echoed, his eyes
narrowed.

When she cocked an eyebrow and deliberately
widened her smile, he ran a hand through his hair, making it even
wilder about his head. He muttered something under his breath. Tate
thought she caught the words, “hallucinating” and “antitoxin” among
several colorful swear words. Considering his expression and the
words themselves, she began to piece some of the puzzle together
regarding recent events.

“Was I poisoned?” she asked.

Once again, she thought she’d taken him
off-guard. Though his expression didn’t change, she sensed a shift
in his gaze. The air around him began to glow in a way only she
could see.

“No sense lying,” she said before he could
speak. “I’ll know it for a lie.”

He snorted. “You will not.”

“Try me, Sparky.” She shifted to get more
comfortable. “Was I poisoned?”

“No.” The air around him shimmered
blue-green.

“Lie.”

As he clenched his jaw and scowled at her,
she gave this lie some thought. That meant she actually had been
poisoned. Idly rubbing the spot on her chest that still ached, she
thought of the various kinds of weapons that could have been used
against her. Perhaps she had been shot with a poisoned-tip arrow.
But who would have done such a thing?

“Do you know what kind of poison it was?” she
asked.

“No.”

“Lie.”

“Damn it.” He leaned toward her with his
brows drawn in a severe line over his eyes. “I find you annoying
and I want you to leave.”

She waved that away. “You’re telling the
truth now, but that’s neither here nor there. Telling the truth is
rarely easy when it matters. I want to know where I am and what
happened to me. I think you can tell me.”

“I cannot tell you anything you do not
already know.”

“Lie.”

He surged to his feet and came around the
fire to loom over her. She leaned back so that her elbows were
braced on the grass and looked up at him. His expression could have
been chipped out of ice.

He squatted beside her. “You try my
patience.”

“Truth.” She grinned. “You should give that a
shot more often.”

His face stern and his gaze carefully banked,
he asked, “What do you know of the Gloresti?”

“Plenty.”

She loved how her vagueness further
aggravated him. She also realized that she loved his scent. He
smelled like freshly cut grass, brisk spring water and, for lack of
a better description, powerful male.

In an effort to appease him, she elaborated,
“You—the Gloresti, that is—are the defenders of Estilorian kind, as
you once defended humanity before the separation of the planes.
You’re highly trained in the ways of defense, and are mostly
comprised of males, though there are some females among you. As a
class, you’re all quite large and muscular. Your eyes, wings and
markings are dark blue, and you pair with Corgloresti whenever they
transition to the human plane so you can protect their Estilorian
forms.” Smiling, she asked, “Is that enough for you?”

There was a long silence. He continued to
remain in a squat next to her, his eyes trained on her face. “And
in light of all those class traits you listed, you classify me as
one?”

Why was this such a big point with him?
“Well, duh. You have dark blue eyes and markings, Sparky.”

“You see my markings?”

Increasingly puzzled, she shifted into a
sitting position, trying to ignore the fact that he was now only
inches from her. Her heart rate accelerated in anticipation as she
reached out to touch his muscular, tattooed bicep. The moment she
brushed against his skin, however, he jerked away from her as
though she had burned him.

Flushing with embarrassment, she turned her
gaze to the fire. “Yes. Your markings vary. They seem to cover most
of your upper body. The one I started to, um, touch is in the shape
of a delta.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry if I offended
you.”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, completely
ignoring her apology as he rose to pace next to the fire. “You must
leave.”

“I won’t leave until you tell me what
happened to me,” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest and
lifting her chin.

“Fine,” he snapped, running both of his hands
through his hair and giving it a rather fierce tug. She began to
see why it was always so disordered. “You were poisoned, like you
surmised.”

“Okay. How?”

He opened his mouth. The air around him
shimmered blue-green.

“L—” she started to accuse.

“Damn and blast, female! Nyx poisoned
you.”

“Nyx?”

“Yes. She brought you as a gift for me.”

Tate frowned as she tried to figure out what
kind of female possibly wanted to poison another female as a gift
to a male. It was when she saw his eyes move briefly over to the
kragen’s sleeping form that realization hit her.

Scrambling to her feet, she put one hand over
the scar on her chest and pointed with the other. “Holy light!
You’re saying that
thing
—that—”