Defy (27 page)

Her temper flared. She surged to her feet,
intent on giving him a piece of her mind.

“While we have this blasted connection,” he
continued, “I want to—”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she interrupted, glaring
at him and gnashing her chattering teeth together. “I don’t want
your
bloody
help. Go away. Consider your obligation—or
whatever you call it—toward me fulfilled. You have nothing to worry
about and no reason to continue harassing me.”

Silence sat between them for several
heartbeats. She held his gaze without blinking, trying to will him
to leave her alone. Neither of them backed down.

“Here,” he said eventually, reaching into the
satchel he wore across his body. “This will help warm you, even if
only in this godforsaken dream. Then I will leave you.”

He pulled out a small canteen, unscrewed the
lid and handed it to her. She accepted it automatically, having
been raised to appreciate good hospitality and thoughtfulness.
After sniffing the canteen’s opening and finding the odor
appealing, she cautiously took a sip. The beverage was rich and
potent, and burned a bit on its way down, making her cough. She
couldn’t quite tell if the burning was due to the drink’s
temperature or its contents. What she could tell was that her
chills were, indeed, easing.

“Thanks, Sparky,” she said, handing him back
the canteen. “What is it?”

His eyes were intent on her face when he
answered, “You really should have asked me before you drank it. It
is a tea made primarily of alitheia leaves and cinnamon. And it
will now put us on more equal footing.”

She blinked in confusion and realized it took
a fraction of a second longer to open her eyes than it should have.
The warmth that had spread throughout her body as the tea had its
effect now had her limbs feeling weighted. Her knees loosened and
she would have fallen if he hadn’t taken a step closer and grabbed
her. Her mind quickly shifted as outside of her control as her
body.

Despite a surge of alarm, she couldn’t help
but notice that her attraction to him was also intensified by the
drug he had just fed her. Her hands would have started exploring
the muscles of his chest and abdomen if they hadn’t felt too heavy
for her to move. She looked into his dark blue eyes and wished
there was something in them besides triumph.

“I told you that you should not trust me,
Beautiful,” he said.

Tate knew about the alitheia bush from her
Aunt Olivia’s teachings. It had been created millennia ago, before
the separation of the planes, by the Scultresti, Alethia. If Tate
remembered correctly, the Scultresti class had experimented with a
way to influence other Estilorians without having the mental
abilities of the Orculesti or Wymzesti. Envy over the abilities of
other classes was a common issue among Estilorians.

In this case, Alethia created a bush whose
leaves, when properly prepared, induced a state of unwavering
honesty in the being who ingested them.

“Ooo, Sparky,” she said, the words slightly
thick on her tongue. “You’ve been very, very bad.”

She knew she should berate herself for
falling for his trick. Her father had taught her better than to
accept a drink so blindly from someone she barely knew. But her
thoughts were now so focused on Sparky and the fact that she was in
his arms that she couldn’t get in another thought.

Realizing this in one tiny, as-yet unaffected
part of her mind, she shoved against him, fighting to put some
space between them. He released her. She was pleased when she
managed to remain on her feet.

She needed to wake up.

“You will not fully awaken until the tea
wears off within the dream state,” he said, making her realize she
had spoken out loud. “I have influenced your subconscious. And the
plant does not permit you any private thoughts.”

It didn’t? Good Lord, had she been standing
there talking about how hot she thought he was? Was she doing that
even now?

He frowned as the mortifying thoughts entered
her head, but she couldn’t read his expression to know if she said
anything.

“What is your name?”

“Tate.”

The word issued from her mouth without
hesitation. She started trembling, but this time it wasn’t due to
the cold. He was going to force her to tell him things that she
knew she shouldn’t.

“Why did you drug me?” she asked. The words
sounded small and insubstantial.

“Because you would not answer my
questions.”

“You told me not to trust you.”

“And yet you drank the tea,” he pointed out.
“What class of Estilorian are you?”

“Kynzesti.”

His frown eased into a less severe
expression. “What is your primary ability?”

“Our powers aren’t yet fully understood. We
can manipulate the elements.”

Now he looked fascinated. “Show me.”

She did, cupping her hands and forming a
small pool of water. When he got closer to see what she was doing,
she flung the results at him. It made her feel marginally better as
he cursed and wiped his face. For some reason, he didn’t censure
her for it.

“So you can tell when someone is lying and
you can manipulate the elements. Anything else?”

“Not that we know.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

Her trembling increased. Her vision blurred
with tears as she answered, “My family.”

She saw him processing this and trying to
incorporate it into the world he knew. “Estilorians do not have
families.”

The comment told her that he was a being
experienced enough to know quite a bit about human society, details
she knew weren’t shared with most Estilorians. Even as this thought
occurred to her, she tried to clear her head. She’d been taught
from an early age how to block against mental intrusions, but this
was different and her efforts were ineffective.

“Some of us do,” she found herself
saying.

“But families are a human societal norm.” He
studied her face. She was rather proud of the fact that she managed
to keep from responding. Evidently not getting the answers he
sought through her expression, he asked, “How long ago did you
transition to this plane?”

“I didn’t.”

“What?” He was back to frowning. “How did you
get here?”

“I was born here.”

Under other circumstances, it might have been
amusing to see the first expression of something besides anger or
irritation cross his features. He looked dumbfounded. But Tate was
too upset to be humored. She knew what was coming and hated him at
that moment for forcing this on her.

“Tell me everything about you and this
‘family.’ Who are your parents and how did they conceive you?”

A tear trailed down her cheek. She wished she
could command her limbs to move. “My father is Caleb and my mother
is Skye. They conceived me in the manner humans have always done
it. They had sex.”

If her words shocked him, he didn’t show it.
“I have never heard of your mother. Is she a human?”

“Half-human. Half-Corgloresti.”

He blinked at that. “Who are your
grandparents?”

“Kate and Saraqael.”

“How did Saraqael conceive with this human,
Kate?”

Even in her mentally nebulous state, she
realized that he knew her grandfather. “He used the power of a
scroll while with my grandmother on the human plane in an attempt
to save her life. It required a physical joining. The power of the
ritual killed him and left my grandmother impregnated.”

The questions continued, as did her tears and
festering anger. He seemed unconcerned with both. She told him
about her siblings and cousins. She told him about her mother and
her aunts and their abilities. And she told him about her father
and her uncles.

“Your uncle is
archigos
Gabriel?”

His tone was neutral, but she realized his
posture had changed and he no longer looked so confident. She felt
a surge of satisfaction over that and sought to knock him off his
peg just a bit more.

“Not only is he my uncle, but when I get back
home and tell him what you’ve done, he’ll hunt you down and kick
your ass.”

“Sir, I think we have a problem.”

Harold looked up at the Waresti who spoke.
Because they had landed in a wide and open field, it was safe
enough to speak in whispers without the fear of being overheard by
a Mercesti hiding nearby. The sun was also nearly fully set, making
speech easier than hand signals. “What is it, Apollo?”

“I came across a dark blue feather that
resembles those we have been collecting. It was flattened beneath
the boot print of a male. There were sets of prints made by two
different males in addition to those likely made by Tate.”

The news hit hard. “How fresh were the
prints?”

“The males who made them are about an hour
ahead of us.” Apollo glanced toward the sky. “Do you think we have
a couple of Mercesti on our hands?”

That was impossible to tell by merely looking
at boot prints, but Harold’s intuition aided him where his other
senses wouldn’t. “Yes,” he replied as he called forth his wings.
“And we’d better fly faster than the wind at our back, because I
think they’re after Tate.”

Tiege felt strange. As the sky darkened from
orange to violet, his connection to Tate faded. He figured she had
fallen asleep. Because it was no longer an essential element to
their search, he didn’t worry about that too much.

Shortly after the connection faded, however,
he felt as though he was in a waking stupor.

“I need to land for a minute,” he said to
Ini-herit over his shoulder.

The elder made a gesture to Clara Kate and
they all found a spot to land. The moment he was free of the flight
harness, Tiege fell straight to the ground. He couldn’t control his
muscles.

Ini-herit reached down to help him up.

“Are you okay, Tiege?” C.K. asked, reaching
out to steady him, as well.

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head as
if to clear it. That actually seemed to help a bit. He managed to
remain standing without their continued assistance. “I
feel…off.”

Ini-herit reached out and touched Tiege’s
chest. Silver light flowed from the elder’s hand. Although on one
level Tiege felt more rested and no longer had any lingering
discomfort from the flight harness, the weird feeling of mental
nebulousness remained.

“Thanks, but that didn’t seem to fix whatever
this is,” Tiege said. He rubbed his eyes, which suddenly stung.
“What the hell?”

“You must be funneling what your sister is
experiencing,” Ini-herit surmised.

“But she’s sleeping,” Tiege said with a
frown. “In fact, this…well, whatever it is, didn’t start until our
connection faded.”

Ini-herit and C.K. exchanged glances. “Maybe
she’s having a vivid nightmare,” C.K. guessed.

Tiege couldn’t argue, as he had no idea what
caused the unusual sensation. His chest felt too tight and an
unceasing sense of panic rested at the base of his skull. But it
all felt dampened beneath a layer of false comfort. It was beyond a
doubt the most baffling experience of his life. He didn’t know what
to make of it.

But what he did know was that his sister was
in trouble, and it was even more urgent than he’d thought. He
opened his mouth to say they needed to get back into the air.

And then closed it as they were suddenly
surrounded by Waresti.

Alexius and his team of Waresti had taken a
couple of wrong turns on their hunt for Tiege,
archigos
Ini-herit and Clara Kate, but they managed to make up the time in
the air using their knowledge of air currents to aid them. Thus,
Alexius had the trio in his sights even as they went in for an
unexpected landing.

He now caught and held
archigos
Ini-herit’s gaze as he and his soldiers surrounded them. “We’ve
been trying to find you,” he said in greeting. His gaze shifted to
the two Kynzesti. “You have a number of concerned family members
deeply worried about your well-being.”

Ini-herit crossed his arms and looked to
Clara Kate, who frowned.

“Commander,” Tiege said, “we have to get to
Tate. She’s still alive—”

“We know,” Alexius interrupted, and the three
beings they had tracked across the Estilorian plane all looked
surprised—even the Corgloresti elder. “Commander Harold is even now
tracking her. He expects to reach her within a couple of hours.” He
watched the three exchange looks that ranged from wariness to
relief. “Your fathers are also on the way. Your mothers had to
remain behind with your siblings, but they all want to see you as
soon as possible.”

“I’m not going back until Tate’s okay,” Tiege
argued. “There’s something going on right now…I don’t know exactly
what, but she’s in trouble.”

Alexius drew his brow in concern. “My orders
are to bring you back home,” he said. “
Archigos
Uriel—”

“Alexius,” Clara Kate interrupted, stepping
forward. She reached out to touch his arm in a familiar gesture
that effectively distracted him. “You’ve worked with us on our
training all our lives. You know we’re capable of taking care of
ourselves. You’ve helped see to it. We’ve come this far. Let us see
this through.”

“I can’t go against orders, Clara Kate,” he
argued, though he could admit that her deep blue-green gaze made it
harder to refuse than it might have with another being.

“That is true,” Ini-herit said. “A Waresti
does not go against his orders. Such an act defies his or her very
nature.”

Tiege’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I can damn well
refuse. I’m going after Tate.”

“I can’t—”

“Alexius,” Clara Kate again interrupted, her
grip on his upper arm tightening. He didn’t fail to notice that
archigos
Ini-herit’s gaze shifted to where she touched him.
“Your orders are to bring us back home. But that doesn’t mean it
has to be immediately.”