Knight Awakened (Circle of Seven #1) (19 page)

Dear goddess. The urge to apologize, to find her satchel and tend the wound hit her full force.

Cristobal rounded the end of the wagon, the tips of both swords running red. “Afina, are you—”

A woman’s scream split the air.

Afina’s head whipped around so fast it nearly fell off her shoulders. Oh, no...Maiya.

A knife in each hand, the man in purple held a blade to the girl’s throat. Pressing another against her abdomen, he backed them toward a roped enclosure. Horses paced inside, the scent of blood whipping them into a frenzy. The goddess preserve her, the bastard was getting away.

“Ma rahat.”

The curse told Afina all she needed to know. Cristobal was too far away to stop the slaver’s flight. And Xavian...where the devil was he? Was he...had they—

“No,” Afina said, voice soft with gathering fury. “No.”

She couldn’t allow it. He was the cause of it all. Had the bastard left them alone, Sabine would never have been in danger. Maiya would not have been brutalized. And Xavian wouldn’t be...he wouldn’t be...dead.

Red mist washed in behind her eyes. Afina glanced toward the hatchet. She needed to reach it and stop the slaver’s escape. If only she could...

Her vision dimmed, narrowing on the back of his tunic.

An echo in her mind, the voice murmured, “
Concentrate, child. See it, and so it shall be.
”

She painted a picture in her mind’s eye. Envisioned her hand around the handle. Felt its weight and her strength as she threw it. Oh, if only she had the strength to throw it.

One moment the image was nothing more than a thought, and the next? The hatchet was flying end over end through the air. It struck with a thunk, dead center, cutting through flesh and bone to split the slaver’s head in two. Blood spilled in a river, flowing down the back of his head as he fell.

The amulet chirped as though it approved.

Belly down in the dirt, Afina stared, teetering on the rim of coherence.

What was happening to her? The red mist and headaches, the swirling heat in her fingertips and strange voice...none of it made sense or felt familiar. That ill-advised moment with Xavian had fractured more than her maidenhead. It had somehow touched her soul. Now she lay broken, perched on the edge of a chasm into the unknown.

Afina couldn’t take another moment. She was going to be sick. The motion of the horse beneath her—the blur of tree limbs and the cruel slap of frosty air—turned her inside out, sending her stomach into a freefall. She gagged and clung to the saddle horn to keep her perch.

Xavian was inhuman. How could he travel at such an unrelenting pace?

They’d been riding for over an hour: on narrow trails, up hills, around twists and turns, cutting through a forest no sane person would ever have entered. Were she brave enough, she would throw something at the back of his head, rein in, and rail at him until her throat hurt. The problem? She couldn’t find the courage. Was too afraid he would yell back.

She didn’t want his fury, even though she deserved it. Her escape had put them all at risk. Sabine could have been killed, along with his men, and Afina knew they would never forgive her.

Such foolishness. She hadn’t gained a thing. Except mayhap Xavian’s disgust.

He hated her now, couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Even without him saying so, she knew what he planned. He was riding hell-bent to Castle Raul, intent on dumping her in Vladimir’s lap. It was the only explanation—particularly since he’d tossed her
in the saddle and ordered Cristobal to take Maiya in a different direction.

Two years spent running...for what? To end up back where she started? Only this time she didn’t have her sister to shield her. Bianca was dead, and how was Afina going to honor her memory? By breaking her vow and leaving Sabine to grow up without a mother’s love to hold her.

Goddess forgive her, she’d failed them all.

Afina closed her eyes to hold the tears at bay. The slow swing of inevitability pulled her off balance, making her head spin and stomach churn. One hand pressed over her mouth, she swallowed the burn, determined to stay on the horse and keep what little remained of her pride. The beast had other ideas and, tossing its head, sidestepped. She lost her grip and slid in the opposite direction. The ground rose to meet her, and she landed with a bone-jarring thump.

Dead leaves and dirt flew up, surrounding her in a cloud of dust. She ignored her aches and pains, more concerned with her stomach as she crawled toward the edge of the trail. Unable to control it, she heaved, bringing up nothing but air and bile.

“Rahat.”

Horse’s hooves pivoted then galloped back toward her. On her knees amid small bushes and damp turf, Afina threw up again. Xavian’s boots touched down a few feet away. Flicking the reins over his horse’s neck, he knelt, coming to his haunches at her side.

“Afina,” he said, his voice sounding far away.

“Go...away.”

“Nay.” With gentle hands, he drew her back until she sat on one hip, both legs curled beneath her. Her ankle throbbed in
time with her heart as he looped her hair around one hand and brought a flask to her mouth with the other. “Drink.”

She jerked and turned her face away.

“Easy,
draga
...be easy.” He released her hair to cup the nape of her neck. His fingers shifting through her hair, he stroked at her sore muscles.

Better than a soothing balm, his touch unlocked the tension. With a sigh, Afina curled into him, needing his warmth more than the water. His arms tightening around her, he murmured and tucked her head beneath his chin. The red mist receded, sweeping aside the jumbled mess inside her head along with the nausea.

“Apologies, love. Had I realized how bad—”

“My fault...not yours.” She snuggled closer, searching for his scent beneath the smell of blood and death. “I shouldn’t have run. Should have known I’d never make it, but I had to try.”

He coaxed her to take a sip. Cool liquid trickled down her throat, soothing the soreness as he asked, “Why then?”

She shook her head. “How much longer do I have?”

Xavian drew away to look at her, a clear question in his eyes.

“Before you deliver me to Vladimir.”

“Afina, I’m not—”

“Promise me you’ll look after her.” Afina clutched at his arm, fear for her daughter binding her heart. Sabine’s future was more important than hers. Despite what he intended, she knew if Xavian gave his word he would keep it. “Promise me.”

“Who, love?”

“Sabine.” Tears filled her eyes then spilled over her lashes to nest in her hairline. “Please...she cannot come with me. He’ll hurt her. Please, keep her safe. Give her a good home after I’m gone.”

“Jesu, Afina.” Expression set, he scooped her off the ground and stood. Strides long and even, he crossed the trail toward a huge beech tree. Spread like a fan above them, the canopy swayed, pushed by the soundless rhythm of the wind. Afina swallowed as he set her down on a moss-covered log. His knees hit the ground on either side of her, caging her with his strong thighs and big body.

She shivered. “I don’t blame you.”

“For what?”

“For needing the coin,” she said, her voice so soft she barely heard it. Pressing her hands between her knees, she tried to chase the chill in her blood—in her heart—away. “Vladimir is wealthy and willing to pay, but—”

“Stop.” He framed her face with his hands and, wiping at her tears, forced her to meet his gaze. “I’m not taking you to the bastard.”

“I don’t understand. I thought...you said...how...”

“Vladimir approached me...offered me coin to track you.”

“But you don’t intend to—”

“I told him I would find you. I never said I’d bring you back.”

She frowned, confusion warring with relief. “But you sent Cristobal away. If you aren’t taking me to...where are we going?”

“The hot springs. You need a bath, and the warm water will help with the pain.” He brushed another tear away and released her. Settling back on his heels, he cupped her calf and set her injured foot on the top of his thigh.

Agony came calling, licking up her leg like fire. Afina bit down on a whimper and tried to keep her bottom from walking along the log.

“Hurts?”

Unable to answer through clenched teeth, she nodded then squirmed when he flipped her skirt above her knee.

“Relax,
draga
,” he murmured, sweeping gentle circles up the back of her calf.

Magic in his fingertips, he increased the pressure, massaging to ease the muscle. Each stroke lessened the pain, drew comfort a little closer, and slowed her heartbeat until her eyelids felt too heavy. Eyes drifting closed, Afina fell into his rhythm, let the heat in his hands lull her into relaxation.

Cool air touched her thigh. Afina twitched then sighed when Xavian’s hands followed. Calloused and warm, one circled her knee while the other traveled, cupping the back of her thigh. He stayed there a moment then shifted to massage the top of her leg on an upward glide. Alarm bells sounded somewhere inside her head. Afina ignored them. The stroke and release of his hands felt too good to stop. The terrible throb was almost gone.

A warm rush of air brushed her before Xavian’s mouth touched down. His whiskers pricked her skin as he drew a heated trail down the top of her thigh. Afina opened her eyes. Xavian nuzzled the inside of her knee and raised his head.

“Better?”

“Ah-huh.”

“Good.” A wicked gleam in his eyes, his hands continued to play, massaging in wide circles as he dipped his head again. Afina held her breath as he planted a gentle kiss on her knee. “Now tell me. Why is Vladimir after you?”

His tone was quiet, the question delivered with an innocent lilt designed to coax an answer. Still Afina hesitated. Could she trust him with her secret? It was the ultimate question, one she had struggled with since he’d taken her from Severin. A number of things stood in his favor—the fact he didn’t intend to give her
to Vladimir chief among them. But in the end, it all came down to one thing. Anyone who helped her would always be in danger.

If she told him the truth of her heritage—all the awful things that always happened because of it—she put him in jeopardy. Drachaven wouldn’t be safe from Vladimir. The swine would lay siege to Xavian’s home and kill everyone in it. The only chance she held was to hide, to stay one step ahead of him.

“You need to let me go,” she said, hearing the panic in her voice. “He won’t stop. Ever. He’ll—”

“Stop protecting everyone but yourself and tell me.”

Afina chewed on her bottom lip. He held her gaze, hands skimming her skin, waiting for her to obey. A new plan took shape. Mayhap the truth was the only way. If he knew her history—the terrible legacy given to her at birth—he would turn away.

Between one heartbeat and the next, she told him...everything. She didn’t make it look pretty. Didn’t cover up her mother’s viciousness or gloss over Bianca’s death. Even went so far and told him what he had unleashed by his possession in the stables. No, she didn’t understand it—wasn’t sure what it meant or even what she was now capable of—but she refused to tell him that. She wanted him to run...for him to take her to Sabine and let them both go.

“A high priestess,” he said, so low Afina barely heard him.

“Yes,” she whispered back, accepting her legacy even as she wished to erase it.

“He will hunt me to the ends of this world to take the throne.” Afina gripped his forearms, willing him to understand. “It would be safer...better for you and Drachaven...if you let me go.”

“I told you once, now I’ll say it again. You belong to my circle. Mine.” His gaze bore into hers, his determination unmistakable. “Accept it,
draga
. Vladimir will never take you from me.”

“Xavian,” she said, gratefulness and fear a mixed-up mess inside her chest. “I know you mean well, but—”

“Christ, don’t move.”

Afina tensed, her focus on the hard planes of his face. “W-what?”

“Do. Not. Move.” He shifted, the movement measured and slow, his attention on something over her left shoulder. Unsheathing a blade from his boot, he rotated the weapon until the hilt sat in the palm of his hand.

A hiss came from behind her head.

She twitched.

Xavian cursed as his arm shot forward, knife at the ready.

A dark brown head flew, end over end, to land in the dust a foot from her own. Air left her lungs on a rush. A northern viper. By the goddess, had—

Afina turned to Xavian. “Were you bitten?”

He grimaced and rotated his wrist. “’Tis nothing.”

“Were you bitten!” She grabbed his arm.

Two small puncture wounds, the skin already red around them, marred the flesh of his forearm. He tried to pull away. She held firm and shoved, putting him on his backside. No doubt shocked by the move, he sat unmoving as she lowered her head and set her mouth over the bite.

“Afina.”

She sucked then spit, repeating the process before coming up for air. “Be quiet. I have to get the poison out.”

“We have to move.” He twisted his wrist, breaking her hold. “The spring is not far. We cannot stay in the open.”

“But—”

Fisting his hand in the front of her gown, he hauled her to her feet and, with a low whistle, called the horses to attention.
Aches and pains gone in the face of his peril, Afina didn’t complain when Xavian tossed her into his saddle, mounted behind her, and set his heels to his warhorse’s flank. She needed him to hurry. No matter how strong, Xavian couldn’t withstand the viper’s venom for long. If she didn’t treat the bite fast, he would slip away before she got the chance to save him.

It was time to end the game. The visions grew bolder, but even without them, Halál knew it deep inside. Just to be certain, he rattled the bones in the cup and tossed them again. Sure enough, the small white sticks taken from a child’s hand landed in the same scattered position on the low table.

A new beginning. The bones demanded one.

He was more than eager to do his part. Thus far, he’d done nothing but play, sending those of lesser skill after the
Betrayer
. Not that many equaled the artistry of his former pupil. Xavian was an exquisite killer, the best he’d ever trained. Now, however, came the turn and hollow, the point at which he could no longer afford to expend so much effort in one direction.