Samara's Peril

  A voice broke his concentration. His hand slipped and the heel of his palm just below his thumb slid across the freshly sharpened blade. He hissed at the fiery sting of sliced flesh and dropped the whetstone. Blood rolled along his skin.

  “Jace!” Kyrin knelt at his side and grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  At her regretful tone, Jace shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Come on. We’ll get it cleaned up and bandaged.”

  But Jace pulled his hand away. The awareness of her touch only complicated his already muddy thoughts.

  “There’s no need.” He pressed his other thumb to the cut to stop the bleeding.

  In the heavy silence, it occurred to him how insensitive and short he’d been. Guilt took hold. Here he was, taking his frustration out on her and possibly hurting her again. Meeting her questioning expression with his own apologetic one, his voice gentled. “Really, it will be fine. It’s just a shallow cut. Nothing serious. I’ll clean it later.”

  Her face cleared of confusion, but concern remained.

  Jace cleared his throat. “Did you need something?”

  Kyrin sat back, watching him. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Jace sighed and stared at the small pool of blood in his hand. Surely, he didn’t have to say anything for her to know the answer. It must be written plainly across his face.

  “It’s hard,” he admitted, though to do so was difficult. He looked at her again, into her eyes, and the unceasing compassion she had for him.

  “It is,” she murmured. “When I left Kaden in Valcré, not knowing if I’d ever see him again, it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.”

  Jace winced and looked away. She had handled separation so much better than he was. Outwardly he might appear so strong, but inwardly he was a weakling in the things that really mattered. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. He was used to keeping things locked up inside, but was just worn out enough to let his thoughts slip out.

  “I just wish I could be with them.” He shook his head. “When I was, my ryrik blood meant nothing. It didn’t matter.”

  Kyrin leaned closer to see his face. “It doesn’t matter here either.”

  Jace released a hard breath. “But it does. It always does. Was it not a factor you considered when you chose to go hunting with me?”

  Her gaze wavered, but she answered in a low voice, “Yes.”

  “And Rayad had to consider it when he chose to help me, and Kalli and Aldor when they opened their home to me. They would have been foolish not to. But my family… for the first time in my life, my ryrik blood was not a factor. I was part of them. I belonged with them.”

  “You belong here too.”

  She said it so earnestly, and maybe it was true for her, but he didn’t feel it. He never had.

  He shook his head, his chest tightening and growing warm. “No, it’s not the same. I—” He stopped and squeezed his eyes closed. This discussion was heading down the same path as the one they’d had after Hagen’s death. He couldn’t take another argument coming between them right now. Breathing steadily, he tried to speak more calmly. “I just… I need time.”

  The sad look in her eyes pierced his heart, but at least she wasn’t angry. She nodded in acceptance and swallowed before speaking in a soft voice.

  “I wish with all my heart you didn’t have to be separated from them. I hate that you’ve lost and endured so much. If I could somehow change things for you, I would.”

  He stared at her, caught up in the way moisture gathered in her beautiful, smoky blue eyes—those eyes that displayed her inner beauty and everything about her that he loved more than life itself. His voice, along with his breath, stuck in his throat for a moment. When it released, he murmured, “I know you would.”

  She breathed out slowly and looked away as she wiped the corners of her eyes. Pushing to her feet, she looked down at him. “Just remember… if you need help you have people here too.”

  She turned to go. Immediately, an intense ache throbbed in Jace’s heart. He called her name. When she faced him again, he struggled for what to say, afraid of what might come out. Just why had he stopped her?

  Thankfully, he remembered something he wanted to talk to her about. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a minute?”

  She nodded, and he rose, setting his sword aside. Inside the shelter, he rinsed his bloodied hands in a bucket of water and retrieved the object he had gotten from Trask earlier. Back out where she stood waiting, he handed her the object—a dark leather sheath and dagger. She pulled the double-edged blade free. The knife was small enough to fit comfortably in her hand, while still large enough to be deadly. She looked up with questioning eyes.

  “As soon as there’s time, I want to teach you how to use it to defend yourself so you’ll be prepared if you ever encounter someone like James again.” The possibility made him ill. Please, Elôm, don’t let that happen.

  Kyrin looked back down at the dagger, nodding as she slid it into the sheath. “Thank you. I appreciate that very much. I don’t want to be defenseless again.”

  She gave him a quick smile. Not very wide, but thankful.

  When she walked on, Jace’s heart constricted again, and he rubbed his chest. After so many years, he should be used to pain, but this was different, forcing him to face facts.

  He loved her.

  He took a deep breath and sank back down next to his sword. Just as clearly as he knew he could never have her, he also knew he loved her.

  Outbursts of laughter and good-natured insults drew Kyrin to the shelter belonging to her oldest and youngest brothers. The door stood open, so she peeked inside. In the middle of the dirt floor, Kaden wrestled both their little brothers at the same time. Michael had a half-hearted chokehold around Kaden’s neck, while Ronny attempted to squirm out of his big brother’s one-armed grasp. There was no telling how it started, but Kyrin watched and grinned. They were obviously having a marvelous time, and she wanted to commit the moment to memory. She loved to see Kaden interact with the boys. His own childhood had been cut so short. This carefree moment might be one of the last they enjoyed in a long time with war looming.

  With a shout of triumph, Ronny broke free and jumped on Kaden’s back to help Michael try to pin him down. Kaden straightened on his knees and reached back for them. That was when he noticed her in the doorway.

  “Kyrin,” he gasped, winded.

  She put her hands on her hips and gave them her best mock-scolding look. “I thought you three were supposed to be gathering your laundry.”

  “We are.” Kaden nodded to two heaps of clothing near one of the cots—one belonging to Michael and Ronny, and the other to Kaden, who must have gathered his from the other shelter.

  “Is that all of it?”

  The three nodded.

  Breaking into a smile, Kyrin stepped inside and gathered the clothes into her arms. “Carry on.”

  She caught their delighted faces as she ducked out of the shelter. The tussle continued, and she headed across camp to where the women were washing. Along the way, her brothers’ clothing started to slip and she had to readjust her hold. Halfway there, someone came up behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Jace was bending to pick up a shirt she had dropped and already had another in his hand.

  “Oops. I didn’t realize I was losing some.”

  Jace eyed the load. “Need help?”

  “Thanks,” she said as he took half. “Kaden and the boys were supposed to bring it, but somehow it turned into a two-against-one wrestling match, and I hated to interrupt them.”

  A flicker of a smile crossed Jace’s lips. At least another night’s sleep seemed to have helped him. It was so hard to see him the way he was during their conversation yesterday afternoon. It had weighed on her all day. If only she could change things for him.

  Keeping these thoughts hidden, she led the way to the group of women around the wa
shtubs.

  Kyrin’s mother looked up from her wash water as they joined her and frowned lightly. “Where are the boys?”

  Kyrin dropped her bundle next to the washtub. “Wrestling.”

  Her mother shook her head with only a mild look of exasperation.

  Jace stepped up next to Kyrin and set down the rest of the load. She gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and went on his way. Kyrin stared after him, thinking, wishing . . .

  Her mind snapped back to her work. She turned to the washtub and found her mother watching her keenly. Kyrin pretended not to notice and grabbed up one of Michael’s shirts, dunking it into the water and scrubbing it against the washboard. Though she still sensed her mother’s lingering gaze, it wasn’t a discussion she wanted to get into. It would be pointless, especially in light of the more sobering things they had to deal with.

  After a while, the probing silence ended, and they talked companionably as they tackled the mound of laundry. An hour later, Kyrin turned to hang up a shirt to dry when she spied Marcus.

  “Trask has called another meeting to discuss plans for Samara.” He gestured over his shoulder to the meeting hall.

  Kyrin glanced at her mother and brushed her damp hands on her already water-spattered skirt as she followed him to where the camp leaders waited. Once their core group was present, Trask addressed them.

  “I wanted to let you all know that, once Leetra returns and we find out what is going on at Fort Rivor, I plan to deliver our information to King Balen personally. Warin and Sam have agreed to remain here to oversee the refugees and begin preparations for the new camps.”

  He paused. “This is not like our other missions. I am not asking any of you to join me. That is entirely your choice, as it will be for everyone in camp. I intend to remain in Samara to see this through. Before any of you make your decisions, I want to make sure you have fully considered what we will face there. We might not all make it back, if any of us.”

  A heavy silence surrounded them. Kyrin glanced around at everyone, and didn’t find a single person who appeared daunted by the prospect of such a bleak future. Win or lose, they were prepared to fight. Starting with Holden, each of the men voiced their desire to join Trask, until only Kyrin and Jace were left undecided. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her. His decision would most certainly rest upon hers. He would go where she went. In that way, she controlled his future as much as she controlled her own. Whatever she decided could potentially lead to his death. Ice built in the pit of her stomach, but she forced it away. Jace’s life was not in her hands. It was in Elôm’s.

  Kyrin gave it a final moment of consideration. She couldn’t fight, but she could assist in other ways. As appealing as it seemed to remain in the safety of camp, her closest friends and brothers would be in the fight. After all they had faced, to stay behind now just wouldn’t sit right. Besides, the torturous waiting to see if any of them would return made her queasy.

  “I will go with you. I’m not sure how I can help, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “I’ll go too,” Jace spoke up right after her.

  Kyrin tried to ignore the knot it brought to her stomach, and prayed that Elôm would protect him and the other men. This was not the first time they had faced such grim circumstances together.

  Trask nodded to each of them. “I can’t say I won’t be happy to have the group together in this. I’ll spread the invitation around camp. Everyone else who wishes to join us can travel with Marcus and the militia, though I will want some men to remain here to look after things.” His gaze shifted to Talas. “Same with the riders. I’ll want some here with Warin. The emperor’s focus is on Samara, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t send a few firedrakes to find us. I don’t want camp left defenseless from the air.”

  Talas agreed.

  Turning his attention to Kaden now, Trask asked, “Are the riders ready for combat in Samara?”

  Kaden’s brows lifted as he glanced at Talas. No doubt he had expected Trask to direct this sort of question to the crete as well. But he nodded firmly and spoke with confidence.

  “Yes. A few could use a little more flight experience, but I believe they’re ready and willing to fight.”

  “Good,” Trask said, “which brings up the subject of leadership. They will need to be captained.”

  Everyone looked over at Talas. He was the obvious choice.

  “Kaden, if you accept it, I’m commissioning you as Captain of the Landale riders.”

  Kaden’s gaze snapped back to Trask. “Me?”

  Kyrin stared at them, matching her twin’s wide-eyed expression. She certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

  Trask gave a nod and a hint of a smile.

  “But what about Talas?” Kaden asked. “He has the most knowledge and experience.”

  Talas smiled at him. “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I think the men would prefer one of their own to lead them.”

  “Talas is the one who came to me with the recommendation,” Trask told Kaden, “and we all agree that you’re the most suitable for the job. You have a rare natural talent for flying that we believe will serve you well in leading the men.”

  Kaden just stared, his mouth hanging partly open, speechless.

  “Do you accept the position?”

  Kaden took a breath, exhaling slowly before he nodded. “I accept.”

  A full smile came to Trask’s face. “Then congratulations on becoming our second Captain Altair.”

  Amidst grins and kind words, the men all congratulated Kaden on his new position. Kyrin’s heart swelled in her chest as she watched them. She never would have foreseen this for her twin but, oh, was she proud of him. When he glanced her way, she gave him a wide grin, her eyes smarting. She blinked hard and compared their years in Tarvin Hall to this moment. They both seemed to have grown up so quickly—they’d had to—but, in reality, they were still so young. Yet, here her brother had just received the command over a group of dragon riders heading to war. It was a lot to wrap her mind around. What would their mother think?

  “Talas will be your lieutenant for the time being,” Trask continued once the congratulating ceased, “unless Captain Darq has other plans for him when we reach Samara. I will address the men when we’re finished here, and you can begin to prepare them to leave.”

  He looked around at the others. “As for the rest of you, we don’t know exactly when Leetra will return, but be ready.”

  Camp buzzed with activity following the meeting as most of the men prepared to journey to Samara. Even the camp refugees were busy getting ready to set off for safer lands to the east, now that much of their fighting force would be absent.

  Jace seemed to be the only one without something to do. His weapons were ready, and most of his clothes and belongings were already packed. Besides food for the journey, there wasn’t much more to do. So he sat in the sun with Tyra, who had rolled over at his feet for a belly rub. She had been glued to his side since returning from Ashwood, and he hated to leave her again. There was no telling how long he would be away this time, or if he would even return.

  Still, leaving camp again might be the best thing right now. It would give him something to focus on, and he needed that. After his conversation with Kyrin and the conclusion he had reached, he’d decided it best to push away all the feelings that hurt so much, including those he had for her. Not that it proved easy. No, nearly impossible was more accurate, but he needed to do it. It was the best he could come up with to cope with the pain and avoid jeopardizing their friendship. He couldn’t lose that. It was one of the only things he had left.

  Tyra rolled back to her stomach, her ears perked. Jace looked up, and his heart missed a beat. It couldn’t be. The turmoil he had been through had to be playing cruel tricks with his mind. He blinked not once but twice before he could truly believe what he saw. Anne had just ridden into camp with Elanor and Elian.

  Jace scrambled to his feet. Th
is needed a serious explanation. Elanor gave him a sparkling grin as he drew near, but he was too shocked to smile back.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Her grin widened. “I am staying at Marlton for the time being.”

  Jace gaped at her. “Marlton?”

  She gave a quick nod, and then dismounted. By this time, many of the others from camp had gathered, all sharing in Jace’s surprise.

  “They arrived last night, asking to stay,” Anne explained.

  Jace glanced at her, but fixed a questioning look on his sister.

  “You see,” she said, as if she hadn’t just given him one of the greatest shocks of his life, “I will turn eighteen in just a couple months and, when that happens, Father plans to marry me off to one of his friends. I can’t abide the thought of that. Mother and I have prayed diligently for a way out, and I believe this is it.”

  Jace’s mind reeled. Of course, how could he not be delighted at having his sister so close, but what of the danger? If Anne and her parents were ever found out, then Elanor would be caught up in it as well. She could be executed for merely associating with “rebels.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Quite,” Elanor answered with a tone of finality. “I’m well aware of the risk. Mother filled me in on your involvement with the resistance. And, frankly, I’d much rather be a part of it than suffering in a forced marriage. Mother agrees.”

  Jace let out a long breath and looked at Anne again. She must be all right with it if she had brought them here.

  “I explained everything that’s involved in this decision,” she said. “They are fully informed.”

  Jace gave a slow nod, still considering all the dangerous implications.

  “Besides,” Elanor jumped in again, “we can’t go back now, or at least Elian can’t.” She winced. “He hasn’t said it outright, but Father has threatened his life.”

  Jace glanced at him. He was very calm about this, but his eyes hinted at sadness. It must have been difficult for him to leave Jace’s mother behind.