Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 (18 page)

“Why would you do that?” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You’re not one of us.”

“I never said I was Evanti.” My gaze crept over Dillon’s calf. “But I didn’t admit I wasn’t.”

“You lied.” Her anger stung my nerves.

“She’s Sereian.” Dillon spoke for the first time. “It’s what they do.”

I had no response. All my actions reinforced his bad opinion of my breed, with good reason.

“Come on.” He grunted, pushing to his feet. “We should leave.”

He managed a step before his leg buckled and he hit the ground, hard. He lay back, eyes closed, no doubt riding out the worst of the pain. While he was too winded to argue, I crawled to him. The knife was lost, so I grabbed a rock and sawed over the inside of my forearm until blood welled. A few swipes of my fingers across his calf set my runes in place. His eyes snapped open.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“You have to get her out of here.” I met his stare and promised, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.” He scanned the room. “If you wanted to, you’d have done it by now.”

My gaze slid from his. I indicated his calf. “May I?”

He caught my wrist, stared at my savaged forearm. “What will this cost you?”

More than I had to give. “Only this.” I indicated the runes already in place.

“No.” He shook his head, disbelief shadowing his voice. “It’s not worth the risk—”

Blocking out the rest of what he would have said, I spoke the words and let my magic flow into him. He moaned as pulses of warm, healing energy threaded torn tissue together. When the last drop of glamour left me, I slumped forward and inspected his leg. Muscle twisted in lean grooves. I hadn’t restored his leg, even with assistance from Zaniah, but I had healed him.

My head became too heavy to hold upright. “Sorry…had to…heal…” I fell forward, braced for impact with the floor.

Dillon snagged my upper arms before I hit and dragged me halfway across his lap. He scowled. “Can’t you listen to a damn thing I say?” He shook me. “I said it—”

“Wasn’t worth…the risk,” I said, eyes closing. “Never hurt…you.”

He gathered me close, his breath tickling my jaw. “You still aren’t listening.” His lips brushed my chin. I wished my eyes would open to see him. “This wasn’t worth the risk
to you
.”

I smiled at his concern, well, tried to. Darkness swallowed my consciousness with one gulp.

I never got that glimpse of him.

Chapter Eleven

Warm air blew fragrant across my cheeks. The world was red behind my eyelids, so I turned from the slice of sunlight heating my face and snuggled deeper into bed. Cramps in my stomach made me struggle for a comfortable spot. As if sensing I’d roused, it rumbled a complaint, and my eyes cracked open on a room that wasn’t mine. I blinked. I wasn’t in a room at all, but a tent.

Wood shavings littered the floor beneath a battered table holding a carving of a whale. “
No
.”

Jerking upright, sheets twisting around my ankles, I kicked until my feet tangled and I rolled onto the floor. On my hands and knees, I panted.
Not here. Not again. Not now. There’s no time.

This wasn’t any tent, but Dillon’s. This wasn’t some hastily erected shelter, but a fortified dwelling. Head spinning, stomach revolting, I climbed onto the mattress and forced my head between my knees while inhaling long and deep. This wasn’t possible. I was right where I’d started—in the colony—
again
. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? Days?

“Did you say something?”

My mouth fell open as Dillon backed into the tent. When he spun around, he lifted a tray laden with cut fruit and cooked meats piled high over the bowls’ edges. My mouth watered as the scent hit me, but it was Dillon who held my attention. His mouth was set, eyes hard, but his gruff tone left me hanging on his every word. How was this possible? Why wasn’t I locked in a cell?

“Aldrich said you ought to be waking up about now. Guess I have good timing.” He set the tray on a low table then dragged until the edge bumped my knees. “Eat, and I mean every bite.”

“Dillon.”
Thank you
.

He plucked a cube of fruit and popped it into my mouth. I had to chew or choke. I tried the first but managed the second. He wiped his fingers and grabbed a fork, stabbing another piece of food and aiming it at me. While extending one offering, he reached for a cup and lifted it as well.

“How is Adina?” I chewed and tried to speak. “Do you have a healer versed in childbirth?”

“She’s fine, and no, we don’t.” His offering bumped my lips. “I sent for a priest from town.”

“If she needs anything…” I knocked his utensil to the floor, “…between now and then…”

He made another selection with his fingers. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.” I relaxed, and he seized the opportunity.

“I’ll talk. You eat.” He pressed fruit to my lips and forced his way inside. “Now, let’s cover the basics. I heard what you told Adina. I’m guessing what you gave Phineas was another lock of hair.” When I stopped chewing, he glared until my jaw sprung back into action. “You said you can track it, track him.” When I swallowed to answer, he said, “A nod works just fine.”

I nodded.

“Does the spell require you to track him personally?” He watched until I shook my head no. “Good. So you can rig it for someone else to follow Phineas’s trail?”

I opened my mouth to say yes and got a mouthful of cured meat. Scowling at him, I snatched the cup and hid behind it long enough to say, “Yes, but the spell is only good for two days or so. Afterward, it begins to fade.”

“Not a problem.” He sounded calm, reasonable. It made me more afraid than if he’d yelled. “We have a volunteer ready to go once the tracking spell’s activated.” I was fast becoming confused. “Once I realized what you were…” He frowned, started again. “I called in a favor and sent Mason to round up Aldrich. I figured he’d know more about what was wrong than our healers. Turns out I was right.” Lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “He said you’d borrowed more power than you could afford. That you were tapped out and something was draining you.”

I picked up a roll of meat, but I’d lost my appetite.

Dillon took my hand and guided it to my mouth. “He said a grimoire was his bet, but you didn’t have one on you. I explained about the runaway-horse problem, and we’re figuring that’s where your book is, right?” He waited as I swallowed, then nodded. If he was supplying me with means of retrieving my possessions, I would hardly argue. “He also said if you owed it so much you were blacking out, that you’d only get square by making a sacrifice—or sacrificing yourself—to sate its hunger.” His eyes hardened. “That’s not going to happen, so this is what we’re going to do. Aldrich is willing to donate his blood to seal your grimoire—permanently.” He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “Harper will be pissed to come home and realize I’ve used up his favors with the priest, but I…” He stared until my cheeks heated and I glanced away.

“You don’t have to do this.” I addressed his calf, unable to meet his bicolored eyes.

He made a noncommittal noise. “You’ll use my blood to set the tracker spell into motion.” I opened my mouth. He inserted a cube of cheese. “Don’t argue. It’s not becoming. You have no strength to spare, and I haven’t felt this good since the accident.” I bit his finger, and he growled. I smiled at him in an apology his glare said he hadn’t accepted. “Then we’ll pass the spell off to Mason.”

I evaded his hand long enough to ask, “If he finds Phineas?”

“Then the legion will take it from there. It won’t be the first time we’ve busted up a breeding operation. Slave rings are a dime a dozen thanks to asshats who believe Nesvia will come to her senses and reinstate slavery. Why crimp their cash flow when they’ll eventually be vindicated?”

Phineas had said as much. Were they so sure Nesvia would fail? The thought unsettled me, but it paled to my unease where Dillon’s actions were concerned. “Why are you acting so kind?”

“Is that some sort of dig?” His brow creased. “Are you implying I can’t genuinely be kind?”

I tilted my head. “I mean that I expected to find myself in a cell somewhere, or at least under guard.” I gestured around us. “Instead I woke up in your bed, in your tent, and to this treatment.”

“Who says you aren’t under guard?” His tone made heat flash in my cheeks. “And for the record, the isolation tent blew away during the storm, a storm with convenient timing now that I think about it.” He waited for me to confess. I didn’t. “You’re also the only prisoner we’ve got.”

“Oh.” That put a different spin on things.

“But you’re right. I’m risking a lot by keeping you here.” He cleared his throat. “With me.”

I circled my question from another angle. “Why are you doing this?”

He reached out, frowned at his hand, then wiped his fingers before cupping my cheek. “I think there’s a lot more to your story than you’ve told me.” His thumb swiped over my bottom lip. “I thought if I gave you some time you’d come clean with me, but that’s not happening. You are a lot tougher nut to crack than I thought you would be. That’s for sure.” He chuckled. “Granted, I may have made more headway with you if not for the sand trap and the kidnapping.”

“Sorry I inconvenienced you.” The smile I’d almost given him slid down my face. I had things to say, but how much to tell him? I wanted to trust Dillon with the truth, the whole truth, but my throat closed at the thought of speaking Roland’s name. The risk was too high. Safer for us all if I led Dillon to make the same assumptions I had. “Tobin gave you his speech about saving your race, but there had to be another reason. Otherwise Phineas wouldn’t have let Tobin initiate the contact. He wanted something from you.”

“Who knows? If Phineas was a plant here, he might have been tired of pulling his weight. Working in the mines is no picnic, and as rare as females are, he had to know chances were slim he’d spot more than a couple here and those instances could span years apart. For my money, he was willing to let Tobin give me his spiel about becoming a sperm donor to his cause, but hoped I could be convinced to take over the role of colony spy/recruiter for him so he could move on.”

“That makes sense,” I said slowly, as if only realizing there might be another reason. “Could Phineas have wanted access to salt? He may have thought cornering you while Harper was away gave him better odds of negotiating terms.” I shrugged, nonchalant. “But I beat him to the salt.”

“Yeah, you did.” He rubbed his neck, considering. “It’s possible they needed the payday. After the sandstorm, I assumed you had tampered with the tent. I see now that wasn’t necessary. That leaves Phineas as our prime suspect, not that it matters now. He hesitated, and it cost him.”

He misunderstood, so I gave him a firmer nudge in what I thought was the right direction. “Or maybe they wanted the salt for other reasons.” I shivered at the thought.

Dillon rubbed my arms. “Are you working on a fever? Blood loss or infection could cause one, right?” Months of hovering at his bedside must have worn off on him. His pinched expression said our earlier conversation was forgotten. I sighed. I’d drop larger crumbs next time. “Maybe I should get Aldrich. He said to tell him when you woke up.” His gaze slid past me toward the tent’s flap. “He wanted to chat with you, but maybe he ought to check you out first.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. His frown remained. “I barely lost blood, and my cut shows no signs of infection. I am, really.” Or I was until I remembered Aldrich was here and waiting for me. No doubt he wanted to speak with me about the grimoire and my inability to contain it. It pricked my pride, but I’d thank the elder for his help. After all, I had no one to blame but myself for my situation.

Catching my chin, Dillon upturned my face. “There isn’t some kind of Sereian justice I should be worried about, is there? You don’t seem thrilled that he’s here for a visit. Is this safe?”

“There’s nothing he can do that I don’t deserve.” I winced when his grip tightened. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You’re not exactly convincing me here.” He waited for assurances I couldn’t give.

There was no reason for Aldrich to speak with me that I could see, but refusing him would not be wise under the circumstances. He was an elder priest, and if he believed my condition was the result of my carelessness, then he could, by all rights, sacrifice me to appease our goddess.

While Dillon believed our breed to be lawless and cruel, our meeting with Phineas and Tobin proved every race spawned monsters. The vast majority of Sereian priests and priestesses were simple practitioners who followed Zaniah’s edicts and obeyed the laws our queen set before us. The ones who disavowed Zaniah’s teachings, those who embraced darker magic, twisting the root of their glamour for evil, became outcast, hunted by their own kind. Ironic that in their quest for power, they had made themselves targets for their peers and fodder for taboo spell craftings.

As I’d said, magic was in the blood. While sacrifices such as the one I’d made in the mine were frowned upon, sometimes they were necessary. As long as the death was justified, sacrifice was permissible without punishment. The infusion of power I’d gained by killing an Evanti paled compared to what an outcast’s death could do. Magic in their blood made them potent sacrifices.