Exile (36 page)

A hand rested on her arm. She glanced over at Cadmar.

“You do the right thing, my lady,” he assured.

She tried to smile and found that she couldn’t this time. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and released it.

When they were close enough that the individual huts had taken shape and people became visible moving among them, several figures struck out in their direction from the village. When they converged, the lead warrior disconcerted Indigo by smiling and greeting them in Lyran.

“You come for Emperor Yiloch?” He looked them over with open curiosity as he spoke, his gaze lingering on Indigo before coming to final rest on Cadmar.

“Yes,” Indigo replied, a little too abruptly.

He turned his full attention back to her and a broad grin split his face as though some amusing revelation had just struck. “Come. I have him.” He turned and waved for them to follow. “Best get him out of my sister’s hut before she decides to poison him.”

Cadmar dismounted to walk with him. Indigo and Ian stayed on their horses, neither eager to walk in the soft sand.

“I am Rhiak of Murak un Sita.”

“Sita is the warrior class,” Cadmar explained, then he introduced them and the dark-skinned warrior nodded to each in turn, his expression still rife with amusement.

“I went to Yiroth with Suac Chozai,” Rhiak explained. “Because of that, I was able to recognize your emperor when we found him.”

“Found him,” Indigo repeated, alarmed by the choice of words. “Is he all right?”

Rhiak glanced up at her with unexpected warmth in his dark eyes. “Yes, Indigo un Yiloch, he will live.”

Cadmar barked a laugh and Indigo glanced from him to Rhiak, confused.

Rhiak glanced between them, looking dismayed. “I am sorry. I assumed from her concern and presence here that she belongs to him. Is that wrong?”

Belonged to him? Was that how they did things here? “I…” she stammered. “Well… not exactly. I…”

She trailed off and reined in her horse, her gaze locking on the figure now approaching from the village. A brilliant sunset reflected off his long silver hair as he walked. His stride was slow and deliberate, attesting to a weakened condition, and she noticed a limp in his gait. The clothes he wore were torn and blood stained. A quick scan with ascard told her he was running a low fever. There was infection starting in a wound on his thigh and another on his arm.

Cadmar glanced back at her and gestured for her to continue along with them. Somewhere deep inside she found the resolve to move forward, but she dismounted first, happy to let the sand slow her progress now. It felt inappropriate somehow, to face him from an elevated position after all that had happened. She felt barely worthy of meeting him on equal ground.

She could see him between Cadmar and Rhiak and noted the way his eyes narrowed when he spotted her. Even without actively sensing his emotions, she felt the sudden spike of rage through their link, riding on a wave of underlying heartache.

The group stopped before him. Yiloch pulled something out of his pocket and walked between the Cadmar and Rhiak. His eyes blazed with molten fury as he approached her. Grabbing her free hand, he twisted it palm up, placed the item in it, and clamped her fingers over it. His gaze lingered for a moment on the ring he had given her, then, without a word, he turned away and walked back to Cadmar, patting Tantrum’s neck once on his way past the stallion.

Was he too angry to speak or did he simply have nothing he wanted to say to her after all that had happened? Glancing down, she opened her hand and her heart shattered. In her palm lay her old engagement ring, the one he had taken from her so long ago, still on the chain he’d put it on. The visceral pain that coursed through her was so powerful it was like a violent blow to the gut and she fought the need to curl down over the agony. She couldn’t indulge her grief here.

She slipped the ring and chain into a pocket of her saddlebags, struggling to maintain an outward calm.

“Ferin is dead,” Yiloch stated, staring holes through Cadmar’s horse.

Again, she felt the surge of anger from him and this time she put up a deliberate block on their link so she could avoid the anguish of his rage.

“We know,” Cadmar replied and Indigo was surprised at his curt tone. “Suac Chozai told us. Your sword is on Tantrum.”

Yiloch nodded, his expression cold, his face much paler than usual. “Good. We need to get moving. Thank you, Rhiak, I am indebted to you and your sister.”

Rhiak nodded, his manner subdued by the obvious tension.

Cadmar was the only one willing to voice what she suspected they were all thinking. “You do not look ready to travel, Emperor Yiloch.”

Yiloch scowled at him, though she saw him waver ever so slightly on his feet. “I’m assuming you noticed the army heading into Lyra?”

Cadmar answered with a stiff nod.

“Then you know why we’re going now.” His tone said he would suffer no arguments.

“Fine,” Cadmar relented, “but we should water the horses and barter for supplies before we head out.”

Ian dismounted then and walked up to Yiloch.

“It’s good to see you, my lord.”

Yiloch gripped his arm in greeting. “You as well.” His expression softened a touch, enough to make the resentment with which he looked at her that much more painful.

He took Tantrum then, leaning on the animal for support. As they walked back to the village, Ian and Cadmar told Yiloch everything they could about the army they had seen. He responded with an accounting of the destruction the army had wrought in southern Kudan. None of them made an effort to include her in the conversation and she preferred it that way. She had little desire to speak at the moment. When the horses were watered and supplies gathered, Yiloch removed the Kudaness sword he wore and handed it to Rhaik. He thanked the warrior and the woman standing next to him, then strapped on his own sword and mounted Tantrum, the strain in his muscles the only show of how much the effort pained him.

When Ian asked, he told them how Ferin died. That ended most of the conversation for the rest of the day. They stopped in the hottest part of the afternoon to rest and Indigo took advantage of the time to do a physical scan of Yiloch and heal him from a distance. He gave her a sharp glare, noticing the sudden improvement, but said nothing. Ian shifted in his spot, watching the silent exchange.

They stopped to rest again in the darkest part of the night. When the others were asleep, she walked a short distance from the camp and stared up into the sky. The stars were so much brighter there than in the city.

She couldn’t return to Demin, not after freeing Yiloch and Ferin. If she made it out of Kudan, where could she go? There was little point in staying with her current group. They didn’t need her and it was obvious that Yiloch didn’t want her there.

The error of blocking Yiloch from her awareness became suddenly apparent when his arm wrapped around her, pulling her back against him, and his blade touched her throat.

Her breath caught.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” he whispered.

Anger surged to the fore and she drew on ascard, using it to protect her hand and boost her strength as she grabbed the blade and spun away, twisting it from his grasp. It was a rash move driven by anger and panic, and the outrage in his expression told her it was the wrong way to handle the situation. No worse than his approach perhaps, but not helpful.

“I didn’t know,” she defended, anger evaporating, leaving only the ache of loss. His pale eyes and hair picked up the sparse light of moon and stars. It wasn’t fair to her heart that he should look so beautiful in that moment. “I didn’t know they planned to imprison you. They used me because you trusted me.”

“But you believed them, didn’t you? You believed them when they accused me of having King Jerrin and his family assassinated.”

She couldn’t deny it. Deep down, she had started to doubt him. Now she knew better, but that didn’t change that she had almost believed him guilty for a time. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“No amount of apology will make Ferin any less dead or put Lyra in any less danger.”

She felt as if bands of steel were tightening around her chest. She could think of nothing more to say to him. Clenching her jaw against tears, she held the hilt of his sword out to him. He grabbed it and yanked it from her grasp, either assuming she would protect her hand with ascard or not caring if he cut her. Sheathing the blade, he turned and walked away. Indigo sank to her knees in the sand and cried, muffling the sound of her sobs with her own hands.

When she was calm again, she reached into the camp with her power and locked the three men in sleep. After she gathered what supplies she couldn’t survive without, she mounted her horse and left, allowing them to slip back into a natural slumber.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The cloud-obscured sun sank wearily toward the distant horizon. In its fading light, Myac gazed out over the forested land below. Once out of Yiroth, he’d banished his disguise, savoring the ability to be who he was for a time. Not wanting to be Edan, but not wanting to draw awkward attention to himself, he used his ability to turn his hair icy blue and his eyes light silver, the color they had been in his youth when his mother still lived, before Yiloch and his father taught him the true meaning of hate. That moon-pale hair waved in a light wind rising up from the valley to his vantage point on the hilltop. The dark bay gelding he had taken from the Imperial stables stood patient. The animal reminded him of the old horse he had reluctantly left behind when he fled the palace the night Emperor Rylan died.

That wasn’t a fond memory. If not for Indigo, he might have influenced that battle, choosing the victor. She prevented that, allowing Yiloch the victory. If the exiled prince had been inclined more to greed and less to vengeance, Myac might have bargained to maintain the position he held with Rylan. Unfortunately, Yiloch snubbed his offers to serve him and prolong his youth with ascard. So much hassle that could have been avoided if only sense were more persuasive than passion. Now he was stuck out here hunting for a woman who should never have played into the equation in the first place. If he found Yiloch in the process, he would consider that a bonus, but Indigo needed to disappear forever. She’d proven where her loyalties lay. She was far too dangerous to let live. With her out of the picture, Myac would be unrivaled in his power.

And yet
…

Rain was starting to fall now and the unmistakable scent of a coming storm filled the air. He urged the horse on. Minutes later, a crack of thunder made them both flinch. The next village wasn’t far, but he wasn’t going to make it in time. The restless calm gave way to ground trembling thunder and flashes of light danced across the sky. Spreading his ability, he searched to either side of the road ahead and came upon a small building. Allowing the now torrential rain to soak him through rather than waste power, he angled the horse in that direction.

With rain coming down as hard as it was, he didn’t see the house until he was almost upon it. Another quick scan told him there were five people inside, three of them children. This place would do. He wasn’t in much of a mood to deal with awkward questions, but he could eradicate that issue easily enough. Peasants died all the time and, secluded as they were, their bodies would go undiscovered for a while.

He drew on ascard, ready to silence the residents before he saw their faces. A bright flash and deafening crack stunned him for an instant. The horse reared and twisted, letting out a squeal as it leapt away from the nearby lightning strike. A tree branch crashed to the ground a few feet away. Myac also hit the ground, the force of the impact sending bolts of pain through the scarring in his chest and his heart faltered for a beat. A cry ripped from his throat, a wrenching sound of agony and panic.

He drew in a tempest of power, ready to force his heart to resume working should it not do so on its own. Seconds later, when his heartbeat steadied and the pain was less severe, he became aware of figures gathered around him, mere shadows in the downpour.

“Oh dear. We’d best get him inside. Mord, see if you can catch his horse.”

I was about to kill you
.

A haze of persisting pain left him dazed, making it hard to speak, which was probably a blessing given the direction of his thoughts. Strong hands gripped under his arms, taking great care not to worsen any injuries. Another set of arms wrapped under his legs. Fresh agony pulsed through him from his right arm when they lifted him and a moan escaped his lips.

“We’ll put him on our bed.” A woman spoke from somewhere to his left.

There was a grunt of acknowledgment from the man at his head. Unable to focus, Myac closed his eyes and turned his attention to healing the cracked bone in his forearm. Maybe he wouldn’t kill them after all.

•

Myac’s own moaning woke him. The deep ache that resonated through his chest kept Indigo in the forefront of his thoughts whether he was asleep or awake. A brisk breeze blew in through the door of the small home, chilling him in the cot on which he lay. It was the light of day, though, not the chill, that forced him to rise. Wary of his condition, he sat up slowly. Everything was stiff and achy, resisting when he got to his feet. His body had taken a beating from the fall. Scarred tissues protested when he stretched his chest with a deep inhale.

“You’re awake.”

A woman hurried in through the open doorway, setting down a basket of greens and wiping her hands on the pale apron that years of wear had stained to a tan almost as dark as that of the simple dress she wore. The choice of color wasn’t flattering with her pale gold hair and paler skin, but perhaps that was intentional. She had a husband and three children already. She had no need to attract a man. Still, despite the drabness, there was a hint of beauty that whispered across her face when she smiled.

He managed a nod while he struggled to remember her name. When they brought him in the previous evening, she and her husband had given him their bed and promised him a warm meal in the morning. The chance for warm food served by someone else along with a bed that was at least a little above the cold ground and out of the rain sounded glorious by the time he had finished healing the arm. The compassionate welcome the family offered was a bonus he found himself appreciating under the circumstances. If they hadn’t offered, he might have gone on with his original plan, but it would have taxed him after the healing. He had meant to be back on the road before dawn, but, even with the hardness of the bed, his injured body had clung to sleep longer than planned.