Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (27 page)

“A man of action.”

“If you had to label me,” he conceded.

She mustered her courage to ask the question that had been pressing on her all morning. “Rhys?”

He didn’t look at her. “Yes.”

“Are you angry with me?”

She bit her lower lip, almost hating to hear the answer. He hadn’t come to bed last night and had been aloof all morning. She couldn’t stand the thought of being the cause. He exhaled as if resigning himself to an unpleasant task.

“No, I’m not angry with you.” He still didn’t look at her. “I’m angry with myself.”

“Why?” She willed him to look at her.

He turned his head and stared at her. She mentally flinched. Self-loathing, pain, acceptance, each emotion burned in his gaze.

“For forgetting my responsibilities.” He sighed and looked away. “For allowing myself to care.”

Ravyn wasn’t sure she should be happy or heartbroken. “What are you saying?”

His chin lifted slightly. “I was wrong to foster a relationship between us. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

Her reaction tumbled toward heartbroken. She swallowed against her tightening throat and blinked away the burn of tears. “Why?”

It was the only word she could form and it came out in a breathless waver.

“I was wrong to think I could protect and care for someone at the same time.” He looked at her and she saw the stubborn set of his jaw. “I can’t.”

“So we should pretend that we never—never?”

She couldn’t say the words. Up until that moment she’d known she would never regret being with Rhys, but his words somehow made her feel foolish and unclean. His expression softened a fraction but not enough to give her hope he might change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said and looked away.

She stared at his profile for several seconds, letting his words sink in. Maybe Luc was right. She
was
too naïve. She sniffed and straightened her spine. “Me too.”

They rode in silence most of the way. If only they’d stayed at Alba Haven, safe and away from outside interference. But they weren’t home and they had a mission to do and Bringers to help. She’d spent all her life pretending harsh words and taunts didn’t bother her. What was one more? Strange how Rhys’s rejection weighed so much heavier than all the barbs the Sisters had cast at her while in the abbey.

The silence grew awkward and she stilled herself from demanding more answers. She wouldn’t beg for his affection. But not being with Rhys left a big hole in her future. Where would she go? Being around him at Alba Haven might be too painful to endure day after day. Perhaps she should be like him and put duty before all else.

Her thoughts turned to the impending battle with the Bane. She wanted to ask him if he’d read his father’s journal yet, but the question now felt too personal. He hadn’t said anything about it since they’d left the inn. Did he treat the diary the same way he was treating her, pushing it aside because to deal with the situation was too painful?

She struggled for a neutral subject. “Will the Council be hostile?”

He stared intently at the road ahead. “Some, but not all. Many of the Council use Bringers for their own gain. I have no doubt they’ll attempt the same with you.”

A shiver rippled through her and the hair on the back of her neck pricked at the thought of being manipulated. How could the Bringers of Illuma Grand be so different than those at Alba Haven?

Unaware of her increasing fear, he continued. “Be careful what you say and to whom.”

“You’ve made this mission sound completely unpleasant,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Her attempt failed. His expression remained serious. “I’d hate for you to drop your guard and trust the wrong people.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her retort. Did he believe her incapable of distinguishing friend from foe? “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have you here to protect me.”

Rhys didn’t respond, but she noticed the slight clench in his jaw. It appeared she’d hit a nerve.

The sprawl of the bustling city shifted and spread to open fields and farms. Rolling hills and trees replaced the press of stacked and crowded buildings, and the street diminished to a one-lane, rutted road as they left the city limits of Faela.

Ravyn inhaled, able to breathe again, and followed Rhys as he guided his horse off the main roadway and onto another narrow path. Beyond a grove of trees the road widened. He straightened in the saddle and scowled as the first buildings came into view.

Illuma Grand was aptly named. They traveled through a massive stone and metal archway, and the natural tangle of the woods smoothed into organized orchards and gardens. Small, gray stone buildings dotted their course, and people bustled along rock paths. Each person wore the same drab gray clothing.

Well, she certainly wouldn’t blend in.

Ravyn stared at the workers. They reminded her of the ants she’d spent hours watching as a girl, all with single-minded focus as they scurried to do their tasks. “Are all these people Bringers?”

“Yes, mixed-bloods. Most possess some talent, but none have the powers we do.”

She watched a woman with an armload of rolled-up parchments hurry down the path toward one of the small stone buildings. Ravyn wondered how different she was from the rest of these people. “They’re very…stiff?”

He smiled. “Formal.”

She glanced at him, frowning.

“They’re the epitome of procedures and rules. None know what it’s like to act on instinct.”

A man in a strange wagon moved across the path in front of them. He pedaled the contraption, moving the wagon forward as another man removed small shrubs from the bed of the vehicle and strategically placed them on the ground. Gardeners, perhaps?

“What is the purpose of the Illuma Grand Bringers?”

Irritation laced his voice when he replied. “An excellent question. Please enlighten me if you
ever
discover the answer.”

She frowned and scanned the open grounds they rode along. “Under what guise do they operate? This is a massive estate, and I thought the Bringers demanded anonymity to promote their legend. But these Bringers seem to mingle openly in Faela.”

“As I’ve said, many Bringers have misguided ideas.” He held his arms wide. “They think it’s their mission to be businessmen or public stewards and to ignore the Bane.” He lowered his arms. “So much of our history has been lost. We’re no longer warriors, but social servants. Eventually, the Bane will overrun Inness and all the good intentions in the world won’t stop the demons or save the humans.”

“Or us,” she added.

He raised a brow. “Or us.”

She contemplated the ramifications of what he said. How does somebody change an attitude that’s been set for centuries? “What are the chances of enlisting help from some of the Bringers at Illuma Grand?”

He smirked. “Not everybody is happy with the Council. Our informer mentioned rumblings.” He paused. “Unfortunately, those discontented Bringers are now missing.”

Cold dread washed through her. “Bane?”

He shrugged. “The Bane, the Council…that’s what we’re here to find out.”

They stopped the horses in front of a set of wide, flat steps that spread along the front of the building. White marble pillars reached to the sky and kissed the soaring roofline of the palatial structure. Two men dressed in identical gray tunics jogged down the stairs and took the reins. They bowed but didn’t speak.

Ravyn glanced at Rhys in question.

“Jacob Le Daun.” Rhys stated the name as if that should explain everything, and slid off the horse. He helped her from the mount and guided her up the steps. His touch held none of its normal warmth, but instead felt stiff, as if he preferred not to touch her at all. She had the sudden longing to be home, but squashed the thought, not sure where home was anymore.

Chapter Twenty-two

Most everything about Illuma Grand was brisk and sharp, including the manicured lawn, the hedges, and the people. Immaculate walkways gleamed in the sunshine, and white marble statues of curvaceous women and straight-nosed men blended with their pristine surroundings. Not a single leaf littered the ground, and not a single blade of grass tilted at the wrong angle.

“Illuma Grand is very…” She struggled for the right word. “Crisp.”

Rhys smiled but didn’t look at her. “An apt description.”

She yanked on the bottom of her tunic. “They’re going to love me.”

He ran his gaze down her body, his eyes holding not a hint of emotion. “Yes.”

They turned a corner and entered a crowded courtyard. Ravyn’s step faltered as the people stopped and openly gawked at her and Rhys. Of course, the residents of Illuma would stare at Rhys. His handsomeness and raw presence naturally drew everybody’s attention. A twinge of jealousy bit at her. Several seconds passed before she realized the stares didn’t stray to him, but scrutinized her with rude curiosity.

She hunched toward him and away from the crowd, watching for signs of hostility. “They’re staring.”

His posture was stiff. “Your outfit.”

Was he embarrassed by her? Ravyn glanced down and then back to the bystanders. Every woman wore a practical gray gown, none of which sported embellishments, jewels, or even a weapon.

Several whispered behind their hands, and all openly stared.

“Well, this is rather awkward,” she said under her breath.

He didn’t respond. She wondered if he was enjoying her discomfort. He’d made it clear he didn’t like her leathers. Well too bad, she wasn’t going to change, no matter how uncomfortable these Bringers made her feel. She’d survived three demon attacks, and there was nothing worse these people could do to her.

Feeling defensive, Ravyn’s mood darkened. She cast about, her gaze falling onto a few male onlookers. Their expressions seemed anything but hostile. Butterflies tumbled in her stomach as one of them winked at her.

“Stop staring,” Rhys growled.

The pressure on her lower back increased and he quickened their pace.

“I wasn’t staring, they were.”

“Sainted Ones, give me strength,” he mumbled and propelled her forward.

A tall, golden-haired man strode toward them. Ravyn knew him before he spoke. Brilliant blue eyes framed an older version of Luc’s face. He stopped and waited for their approach.

“Lord Blackwell,” he said, loud enough for all the spectators to hear. “It is so good to see you.”

Rhys smiled and grasped the older man’s forearms. “Jacob, you’re looking well. Haven’t lost any of your flair.”

“I simply give them what they want. Gets boring here,” he said in a quiet voice. Jacob Le Daun was every bit as handsome as his son. He turned and gave Ravyn a low bow. “Lady Mayfield, you do us great honor with your presence.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m pleased to be here.”

He gave her a look that said he knew better. “Come. I’ll show you to your quarters.” He led them down the wide corridor and past the gawking spectators. “Where is my wayward son?”

“Luc will join us shortly,” Rhys said.

“Off on some fool’s errand, I suspect.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “Time will tell.”

“A girl?”

“Something like that.”

“He’ll never change.” Jacob sighed. “Should be glad he comes to visit at all.” He looked at Ravyn. “Even if it’s for reasons other than to see his father.”

She gave him a weak smile, unsure how to respond. There were obviously things between Luc and his father. Whether they were problems or merely a father’s concerns, she couldn’t tell.

Jacob’s gaze cut to Rhys. “Will you and the lady be…sharing a room?”

“No,” Rhys said.

Embarrassment heated Ravyn’s cheeks.

Jacob’s eyebrows disappeared into his blond hair. “So it’s like that?”

Ravyn scowled, her mood darkening again. “It’s not like anything.”

He laughed and slapped Rhys on the back. “I see why you like her. She’s a feisty one.”

Rhys refused to look at her and didn’t respond.

A coy smile remained plastered to Jacob’s face. “I bet Luc likes you. Probably put him in his place, eh?”

“He’s her lap dog,” Rhys snapped.

Ravyn blushed and Jacob laughed. Somebody should have warned her it wasn’t the Council she had to be wary of.

She ignored the men as they traveled through Illuma Grand, staring into some of the rooms they passed. Each room held something different—children in classes, people gathered around a large table, waving their hands and debating, and rows of tables where several people sat hunched, scribbling on parchment paper. There was even a room filled with what looked like science experiments. Small, blue flames burned under bubbling pots and glass bowls. She craned her neck, trying to see more but only caught a final glimpse of what looked like the large skeletal structure of a…dragon?

“What’s happened since I was last here?” Rhys asked.

“Very little, I’m afraid. Mainly gossip and speculation.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Since there is nothing else to keep their minds occupied.”

“Aren’t the meetings and assemblies enough?” Rhys drawled.

Jacob gave a humorless bark of laughter. “Many of the Council members have started making more decisions and asking less from those who live here. I’ve heard grumblings. Many believe the Council is trying to gain control over Illuma Grand.”

Rhys lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Do you believe the missing Bringers have been taken by the Bane?”

“Hard to tell.” Jacob gave a little shrug. “There are no signs of struggle. Some of us have been discreetly investigating, but we’ve found nothing yet.”

“Aren’t you a member of the Council?” Ravyn asked.

“Barely. A specific few make the majority of the decisions. They conspire to control the vote. Most decisions directly benefit them, but they assure us it’s for the greater good,” Jacob said.

“Not surprising,” Rhys said. “Their scheming is one of the reasons I didn’t want Ravyn to meet with them.”

“About that.” Jacob turned down another long corridor. “The Council would like to meet with you immediately, Rhys.”

“Now?”

“Yes, but only you. They’d like an update on your activities. They want to meet with Ravyn tomorrow morning.” He paused. “Alone.”

Rhys stopped. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to convince them to let you attend, but they overrode me.” He turned to Ravyn. “Fromme Bagita was quite insistent.”

For the first time all day, Rhys really looked at her. Anxiety rolled off him and shivers skittered across her as his energy openly caressed and enfolded her.

Surprisingly, Ravyn wasn’t afraid. She turned to Jacob. “Can Rhys wait outside? Be there if I need him?”

“Of course.” He clasped Rhys on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

She peered at him, wondering if he’d take a stand and demand to be with her, secretly hoping he would. Not that she could truly be sure of his reason, caring for her or doing his duty and protecting her. After several long seconds, Rhys gave a single nod of agreement. His acquiescence left the faint taste of betrayal in her mouth. Neither lover nor protector, he’d leave her to face the Council with barely a fight.

The three continued their trek until finally stopping at the end of the corridor.

“I secured these adjoining rooms for you. You must make sure you and Luc exit from this door and Ravyn exits from her door. I know it seems ridiculous, but we don’t need to make waves over something easily avoidable.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she nodded. Sadness pinched her heart. There would be no reason for her to exit Rhys’s door.

Clean, simple
, and
very sparse
were the first impressions that came to mind when she stepped inside the chamber. From the impressive entrance and elegant beauty of the main area, she’d expected something a little grander. This room reminded her of her cell at the abbey, but was not nearly as oppressive.

She turned to Lord Le Daun. “Thank you. It’s very…organized.”

“It is that, my lady. And so are the people.” Jacob moved farther into the room. “They are also predictable, punctual, and proper.”

“Sounds rather boring,” she muttered.

“Exactly. Perhaps you will add a little spice to their lives. I daresay your outfit has already inspired an array of tittle-tattle.”

A young man carrying their belongings knocked on the open door. “Your things, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Jacob said. He pointed to the bed. “Set them over there.”

The man unloaded her items and ducked out of the room before she had a chance to thank him.
Very efficient
and
a little skittish.
She untied her dirty, worn bag and surveyed the items inside, pulling out her tome and Bowen’s journal. Perhaps she’d look at them while Rhys was gone.

“Can you meet with the Council now, Rhys?” Jacob called.

Rhys stepped into her room. “Will you be all right? I’ll only be gone a short while.”

“I’ll be fine.” She laid the books onto the bed. “Besides, I’m a little tired. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

“I’ll ask for them to serve us dinner in our rooms tonight.”

Jacob held up his hand. “Leave that to me.”

He walked to a tall, thin cabinet beside the door and opened it. A thick, silk rope hung inside with a bell positioned at the top. He reached in and yanked on the rope. Ravyn was surprised that the bell didn’t ring.

“When you hear this bell ring,” he said, pointing inside the cabinet, “You open this door.” He tugged open a small, square door she hadn’t noticed. “The food will be waiting inside. When you’ve finished, place the dishes back inside and pull the rope.” He closed the door. “Somebody will be by to collect them.”

She smiled. “Very clever.” Tonight, at least, she wouldn’t be subjected to any more stares or whispers. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, my lady.”

Rhys followed Jacob out of the room. Before drawing the door shut, he said, “Lock it.”

Her hand hovered on the lock. She glanced over her shoulder to the two books lying on her bed. Would she have enough time to look at his father’s journal? With Rhys putting more and more distance between them, she might never get another chance to see inside the diary. As far as she knew, he still hadn’t read it.

She opened her door and peeked out. The hall was empty. Ducking inside, she locked her door and then Rhys’s. If he came back early, she’d have time to replace his journal. She rifled through his bag, pawing over his clothes until her fingers found the rectangular lump. Her hands shook and heart raced as she lifted the book from the sack. This felt wrong. He’d be furious if he found out she’d read it. Willa had been right. It felt like trespassing on somebody’s private thoughts.

This was no time for guilt, however, and there was no room for hesitation. Not when others depended on her, and not when the journal’s contents could save her life. Maybe the words of Rhys’s father would provide much-needed answers to their questions. The leather felt cool under her fingers as she hurried to the bed and sat. She reached into her boot and removed the dagger, its metal hilt warm from her body. After placing the knife on a low table, she kicked off her boots and climbed onto the bed. With infinite care, she pried open the covers of the diary.

Lines flowed in a beautiful script, the letters forming words that tugged at Ravyn’s heart and made tears pool in her eyes. He wrote of the life they’d left behind and how he missed it. They were words of love from a man to his wife, and from a father to his son, sentiments that confirmed what Ravyn believed but Rhys couldn’t accept—he had been his father’s pride and joy, and nothing Rhys did would ever change that.

She turned the pages, reading as quickly as she could but not wanting to miss a single sentence. His father told of the Bane and his worry that Vile grew stronger. He penned his frustration at not knowing where the immortal weapons were hidden. The words on the parchment illustrated the happiness and hardships of Rhys’s early years, his parents’ love, and all he had lost the day they died.

Her finger slid behind the paper and turned the page. She froze. A daggerhad been painstakingly reproduced in the journal. She picked up her weapon from the table and laid it next to the book.

“It’s the same,” she whispered.

Small writing ran along the edges of the page. She held the book closer and squinted at the script.

In death there is life, in sacrifice, return.

All barriers destroyed and evil be spurned.

No hindrance remain, from our blood be renewed,

that which was taken, settle in those who Bring true.

She shook her head. “What does it mean?” The text dipped along the crease of the pages. She turned the book and pressed it open.

Speak the words before death. Those who Bring true will be served.