Bitter disgust flooded Thalia’s mouth. “I won’t let you touch me, bastard.”
“Charming. But that decision isn’t up to you.” He surged toward her.
Thalia danced away, but Lamb grabbed her hair and roughly tugged her back. Pain exploded in her eyes as her hand automatically came up, trying to loosen his hold. Lamb gripped her waist, pulling her against him. She almost gagged when she felt his erection pressing into her from behind. He held the knife to her throat while his other hand gripped her breast. As she struggled, the edge of the knife cut into the tender skin. Wetness trickled down her neck.
“This really is marvelous, Thalia,” Lamb panted in her ear. “Exactly what I’d hoped for. I can take my pleasure with you while that dragon exhausts its magic protecting the Source.”
Thalia kicked out behind her, trying to land a blow to his groin. He anticipated this, however, and turned just enough so that her heel only caught on his hip. Then she yelped as the knife cut deeper. She stilled, not wanting to slit her own throat.
“Yes,” Lamb hissed. “A fight is good, but I don’t want to kill you, Thalia. Not for a while. I have such plans for you.”
She made herself go slack against Lamb. He ground into her. The hand on her breast moved, and she felt him reaching for the buttons on his trousers. With his attention diverted, the blade of the knife moved slightly away from her neck.
Thalia reached up and grabbed the blade with her bare hand. She bit down her scream as the knife cut deeply into her palm, and pushed the weapon away. Lamb cursed in his genteel accent, calling her a bitch and a whore, as Thalia twisted in his grasp. As they both grappled for the knife, she thought of Tony Morris, murdered and abandoned, of the Heirs’ greed for empire and dominance, of the threats she and Gabriel had faced many times over. Gabriel, whom she loved ferociously, powerfully. He fought for her. He might die for her. But not if Thalia could do anything about it.
Fueled by anger and love, Thalia pushed harder as she fought with Lamb. The knife slipped in his fingers, and she muscled it around so the blade pointed toward him. Her mind flashed to the wrestlers at the nadaam, their technique. Hooking her feet around one of Lamb’s ankles, Thalia threw him to the ground. He fell, and the knife he held caught him between the ribs. Thalia stumbled backward, staring at the hilt as it pointed up from Lamb’s chest, scarlet staining his expensive waistcoat.
He lay there, pinned and choking, while his hands clawed at the hilt. Blood seeped from his aristocratic mouth. He tried to speak, gasping out unintelligible curses, but then a paroxysm hit him. He gurgled, then fell still, eyes open and staring at the blue Gobi sky. Thalia watched this, her gaze dispassionate, as her own wounds bled into the dust.
A mercenary saw Lamb’s body and shouted. “He’s dead! The English chief is dead!” Other nearby mercenaries turned at this. They met each other’s eyes. No leader meant no payment. There wasn’t a reason to risk their lives any further. Like bleating, terrified sheep, the men pivoted and ran. It wasn’t long before the monastery was emptying out as mercenaries fled in panic.
“Thalia!” She turned at Gabriel’s voice, and there he was, living and whole, racing toward her. Stunned, Thalia let his strong arms enfold her, and she realized with dim shock that Lamb was dead, and she had killed him. Even more surprising, she was glad.
Then she clasped Gabriel tightly. Lamb was dead, but Gabriel was alive. Wetness coursed down her cheeks. “I tried to get to you,” she whispered. “I saw Tsend attack you, but I couldn’t get to you.”
“He’s as dead as Lamb,” Gabriel said, holding her close, cradling her head.
“What about Edgeworth?”
“Gone,” Catullus said. He and Hsiung Ming, both bloodied but largely unhurt, strode toward them. “I saw him sprinkling some dried flowers into a fire, then he dove in and disappeared. Some means of transportation, I believe. But I don’t know exactly where he went.”
“Let him go to the devil,” Gabriel said. She felt him shaking, and held him tighter. She wanted to crawl inside of him just to assure herself that he was real and unharmed. They were all here, all safe, except—
“Oh, God,” Thalia cried. She looked toward the pagoda, which, miraculously, still stood. “Bennett!”
The man in question appeared at the doorway of the now barely standing pagoda, covered in red dust. Slapping at his sleeves and wiping at his face, he walked out, limping a little.
“If any of you ever want to wrestle a golem,” he coughed, “I highly discourage you from doing so. More trouble than a pack of nuns.” Bennett held up the Star of David in his battered hand. “This needs to be returned to whomever it was stolen from, I believe.”
Thalia glanced up at Gabriel and saw him regarding Bennett with a new respect. Yes, Bennett was an incorrigible flirt, but he was a fighter, too. All of them—Gabriel, the Blades, the monks, the bandits, even the tribesmen—were fighters. Including herself. And soon, she would have the scars to prove it.
It was a bloody mess. The monastery courtyard filled with the wounded and monks attending to them, the destroyed buildings, camels and horses wandering around. Altan oversaw the tending of his men as his own wounds were bound. Not much different from the aftermaths of countless battles, but different for so many reasons. Gabriel had never witnessed a Smoke Dragon being corralled back into a tea kettle until this very day. It was a bit trickier than one would have first supposed. He’d seen things he would never have believed just a month ago. A giant of clay. A rifle that could shoot flame.
The woman he wanted to marry having her wounds dressed after she’d fought to the death with a black-hearted son of a bitch.
Thalia submitted patiently and without complaint as Lan Shun applied poultices to the cut on her throat and the deep gash across her palm. Gabriel could barely bring himself to look at her injuries. Every time he saw them, the crusts of her blood on her skin, he wanted to bring Lamb back to life so he could eviscerate that highborn maggot. But Thalia, bless her fierce heart, had already done the job of killing Lamb. Gabriel contented himself with holding Thalia’s uninjured hand as they sat on the floor of the temple. He had no plans to release her any time soon. Like, say, for the next century.
“Will Edgeworth come back with more Heirs?” Thalia asked Graves, who stood nearby, critically examining the crooked earpiece of his spectacles.
“Doubtful. He already knows that the Source won’t be taken without a messy fight; it already cost the life of one Heir. And if he does,” Graves continued, straightening the earpiece, “we know we can best them.”
“The Blades will come back, if they are needed,” Day said to Lan Shun.
The head monk nodded.
“What will happen to the kettle now?” asked Altan.
Lan Shun, finishing dressing Thalia’s wounds, gathered up the kettle and wrapped it in yellow silk. “We shall keep it, as it had been kept for generations, before the khan came.”
“But will it be safe?” Gabriel demanded. He hadn’t risked Thalia’s neck and his own just to have a Source left unguarded for some other greedy fool to stumble across and covet.
“Our lesson was learned the first time it was stolen,” Lan Shun said with a half smile. “Trust me, there will be no breaking the charm we set over our treasure.” He bustled from the temple, with several monks serving as guards for the kettle.
Gabriel muttered to himself, but he had to believe the head monk. It had to be maddening, being a Blade of the Rose, knowing that all over the world were unprotected Sources and being unable to safeguard them all. But how much worse was it, loving a Blade, understanding that he or she would constantly have his or her life in jeopardy.
He glanced over at Thalia, who was contemplating a statue of an equally thoughtful Buddha. She’d grown quiet since the battle, drawn into herself. He tried not to worry overmuch about this. She was exhausted, and had just undergone the nasty experience of warfare, had killed several men that day. It was bound to leave her not quite her usual self. He wasn’t entirely certain, though, why she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Left him more than a little edgy.
The close council of the Blades didn’t sit any easier with him. Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming were gathered in a corner of the temple, talking lowly amongst themselves and looking at Thalia. When the three men nodded and then began walking toward her, Gabriel got to his feet, placing himself in front of her.
“What the hell are you planning?” he growled at the Blades. He didn’t like the serious looks on their faces one bit. It meant trouble.
None of the men seemed offended by Gabriel’s brazen question. Day actually looked at him with a touch of fondness. “It’s time,” he said simply.
“For what?”
“For what I’ve been waiting for,” Thalia said, standing up and placing herself at Gabriel’s side. “To finally become a Blade of the Rose.” Her bright green eyes glistened, and her pale cheeks flushed. She removed the Compass from her pocket. “To make this mine in truth.”
“You’ve wanted this your whole life,” Gabriel said softly.
She nodded. “Ever since I learned about the Blades. But, Gabriel,” she said, turning to him, “you understand what that means.”
The burning in his throat told him everything he needed to know. “It means that you can be called at any time. Every day brings you close to danger.”
“Not unlike being a soldier, I imagine.” She smiled, bittersweet.
“I’m not a soldier anymore.” His gaze burned down at her. “Something you want to ask me, Thalia?”
She glanced over at Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming, all of whom promptly began examining the walls of the temple as if they’d never seen something as miraculous as walls before. In Thalia and Gabriel’s small, illusory bubble of privacy, she turned back to him. “Are you going to make me choose? Between the Blades and you?”
It took him a minute before he could speak. “Jesus, Thalia,” Gabriel swore, stunned and a trace angry. “I’m not so small a man that I’d do that. You can’t think I would.”
Relief shone in her eyes. “I did not think so, but I wanted to be sure. There are so many risks.”
“Sweetheart,” he said firmly, taking her chin in his hand, “don’t doubt me. I’ve run all over hell and back, seen things and faced things I never would’ve believed, including the kind of fear I’d never felt before. And I did all of that because I love you. That’s not going to change no matter what you do, whether you’re a Blade or not.”
She blinked, droplets shining in her eyelashes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Releasing her, Gabriel stalked over to the Blades. Despite the fact that they were supposedly spellbound by the temple’s walls, each man smiled, the eavesdropping buggers. “Me, too,” Gabriel said.
“You, what?” Graves asked.
“I want to become a Blade too. Think I’ve earned it.”
Surprised, Thalia flinched behind him, while Graves, Day, and Hsiung Ming exchanged glances. “Be sure,” Day said, serious. “This isn’t a momentary fancy, Huntley. It’s a lifetime’s responsibility.”
“Don’t lecture me about responsibility, lad,” Gabriel growled. “I know where my priorities lie. With Thalia. Her cause is mine. And I’ll fight for her until there’s not a damned breath left in my body.”
“If you’re certain, then,” Graves said after a moment.
Gritting his teeth, Gabriel said, “I can’t get any more certain. You want me to bleed, I’ll do it.” He pulled the knife from his belt, put it to his forearm, and moved to cut himself as Thalia yelped in alarm.
Day’s hand on the hilt of the knife stopped Gabriel. “Not necessary. Blades don’t require blood oaths.”
“Thank God,” Thalia said, coming forward and wrapping her arm around Gabriel’s waist. She smiled up at him, and in her face he saw everything he ever wanted in life, and more. So much more. “I think we’ve seen enough blood for one day.”
“If you will give us a few minutes,” Hsiung Ming said, “we will prepare for the initiation.” He and the two other Blades quietly excused themselves and slipped away.
Once they had gone, Thalia and Gabriel left the temple. Neither of them asked where they were going. They knew, without speaking, their destination. Together, hands interlaced, they climbed the stairs that led to the parapet. From their vantage, Gabriel and Thalia could see the whole of the monastery, damaged from the siege. The gate had been shattered, the pagoda would need to be demolished and rebuilt, and several other buildings sported cracks in the walls and chips in the masonry. The monastery would be restored and serve to guard the Source for centuries more. But the battle site didn’t hold their attention for long.
They looked out over the Gobi. Afternoon sunlight blazed across the desert, and the sky was a cold blue fire above. With Thalia warm at his side, Gabriel closed his eyes and felt the dry wind sweep over his face, smelled the hard-baked earth. Beneath it all, he could feel, like a pulse, the magic of the Source, not only here, at the monastery, but everywhere in the world. He’d never noticed such things before. It had taken Thalia to open him.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I will marry you.”
He chuckled as he felt a happiness he’d never believed he could experience. Opening his eyes, he brought the back of her hand to his lips. “It was a good wind that blew me to your door,” he said.
“Do you think it was magic that brought us together?” she asked him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He smelled smoke in her hair and, underneath, the sweetness of her skin.