“That would be good,” the female said drily.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
The door clicked closed behind him. And in the silence Callia didn’t know what the hell to think.
“Why don’t you have a seat here on the end of the bed,” the female said.
Her heart rate definitely higher than it had been before, Callia slowly moved to the bed.
“My name’s Lena,” the female said as she tipped Callia’s chin up and flashed a penlight in her eye. “We didn’t officially meet before.”
“Your voice is familiar.”
Lena smiled. She was a pretty girl, not breathtaking, not beautiful, but pretty, especially when she smiled. Her brown eyes almost sparkled. “It should be. We’ve spent quite a bit of time together these past few days. I’m a healer. Do you know where you are?”
“Um…You’re not Argolean.”
Lena put the penlight away and reached for Callia’s neck, feeling her way down to the top of her chest and across her collarbone. “No. I’m Misos. And you are—”
“In the half-breed colony,” Callia breathed, as it all started to make sense. “You’re a healer? You’re the one who treated me?”
“Yes and no.”
Lena must have read the confusion on Callia’s face because she smiled again. “My powers aren’t nearly strong enough for this kind of healing.” She focused in on Callia’s skin. “This is amazing. You’re going to end up with nothing more than a faint white line. You’ll probably be the only one who notices it. Imagine what we could do if we put our powers together more often.”
Callia reached her hand up to run her fingers over the smallest ridge. “Wait. Are you saying I did this?”
“You helped.” Lena smirked. “Quite a bit. But I’m not willing to let you take all the credit.” She unsnapped the shoulder of Callia’s gown. “Let’s take a look at your abdomen. Lie back.”
Callia leaned back on the bed and let the female draw her gown down so she could look at the wounds on her stomach. “Wow. These are healing just as well. In a few days there won’t be anything left.”
Callia shifted up enough to glance down at her stomach. Two thin pink lines marred her abdomen in a downward angle toward her right hip. But the healer was right. In a few days they’d be gone.
Her mind flashed back to the cabin. To that seething daemon. To his claws slicing across her stomach and chest. There’d been blood. So much blood. She’d known she had mere minutes before she bled out. “How did I get here?”
Lena helped her sit up again and repositioned the gown so it shielded her breasts, but drew it open at the back. “Two guardians brought you in.”
“Two?”
Lena reached for something behind her. “Yes. One was called Titus. He left shortly after you arrived. I think he went back to destroy the cabin where you were found and eliminate the evidence. This is going to be cold.”
Before Callia braced herself, something small and round and metal touched her back. She flinched before she realized it was a stethoscope, then took a deep breath on instinct.
“Good,” Lena said. “Again.” She moved the stethoscope around Callia’s back, listening to her lungs, then repeated it on her chest. Satisfied, she looped the instrument around her neck then rebuttoned Callia’s gown. “Your lungs sound great. No sign of the infection either. You really are a medical miracle.” She spread Callia’s hair to the side. “Though this is an interesting mark here on your neck.” She brushed at the base of Callia’s hairline. “Is it a birthmark?”
“I…I don’t know. I never…”
“It almost looks like an omega.”
Callia didn’t care about any of that. She was still stuck on the how-she’d-gotten-here-and-who’d-found-her mystery. “Who was it?”
Lena’s eyebrows drew together as she dropped Callia’s hair and came around to stand in front of her. “Who was what?”
“The other guardian,” Callia said, frustration growing. “You said there were two.”
“Oh.” Lena frowned. Glanced toward the door and back again with disapproval evident in her eyes. “That one.”
Callia’s heart rate kicked up. “Why…why didn’t he leave with Titus?”
Lena’s frown deepened. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He keeps hanging around even though neither of us wants him to. He hasn’t left your side for more than ten minutes, and he’s a complete bear to anyone who tries to get near you besides me. I mean”—she glanced toward the door again—“he was right. I did need him at the beginning to jump-start your healing, but not anymore. I don’t know why he won’t leave. Maybe if you—”
“What do you mean you needed him to jump-start my healing?” Callia’s pulse pounded in her veins and a strange tightness condensed in her chest. “Lena, I can’t heal myself. I’ve never been able to.”
Compassion softened Lena’s brown eyes. “I don’t know a healer who can. Me included. I didn’t believe him myself when he said your powers were transferable, but he was right. I guess in this instance, the fact you hate him worked to your advantage.”
Strange memories, visions, sounds clicked in Callia’s brain. She saw smoke, fog, a burning light that looked as if it came from a ship. She heard voices calling, drawing her in, familiar ones from days gone by but which she couldn’t quite place. The scene was peaceful and she remembered wanting to go, had some uncontrollable urge to step onto that boat and sail through the murky waters to lands unknown. But in the background, growing louder by the second, had been another voice. A male voice. Zander’s voice.
I didn’t believe you. I never believed you. Why would I? I left you. Did you hear me, Callia? I left you when you needed me most. And I didn’t even look back.
A lump formed in Callia’s throat. Those words had been real. That voice had been his. He’d stirred emotions in her she’d kept buried for years. The same emotions he’d dug up in that cave when he called her a liar.
Transferable.
“He purposely made me angry so I’d force my pain out on him,” she muttered, staring across the room. Dear gods, she really could transfer her powers. That moment in the cave with Zander hadn’t been a fluke.
“Yeah,” Lena said. “And it worked. With you pushing most of the infection out, I was able to extract the rest. It explains your amazing scars. The force of our combined power is incredible. I only wish…”
“What?” Callia’s eyes darted up to Lena’s.
“I only wish you’d known about that when you got the other scars. The ones on your back.”
Callia’s chest went cold. Of course Lena would have seen the scars on her back. But Zander…“You didn’t tell Zander about them, did you?”
“No.” Lena crossed her arms. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly?” Callia rose slowly to her feet.
Lena dropped her arms in a huff. “It’s really a moot point, don’t you think? We both know he saw them before.”
Oh, shit. Callia dropped her head into her hands. Oh…shit.
“Why are you so upset he saw them again?” Lena asked in a sharp tone. “You got them because of him.”
Callia rubbed both hands over her face. Oh, gods, he’d seen the one part of her she always kept covered. Knowing about the scars was one thing. Seeing them was something else entirely. “It was my choice,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I would understand.”
At the ice in Lena’s voice, Callia glanced up. Hatred and contempt creased the half-breed’s face. “My mother was Argolean, like you. Eighty-four years ago she was betrothed to an ándras she didn’t love. Her parents arranged the marriage because she was already a hundred years old and hadn’t found a mate yet. I guess you could say she had cold feet. She ran away, accessed one of the secret portals in the Aegis Mountains and came to the human realm. Where she met my father. A human. They fell in love
and she got pregnant with me. But females in your realm aren’t safe anywhere, not even here.”
Secret portals? Callia had thought they were fiction.
“Her father tracked her down,” Lena went on. “My pappous. He found her, and he took her back. And he had her whipped, just like you. They called it a cleansing ritual, but there was no cleansing about it. It was punishment, clear and simple. Because she dared go against what the males of your world deem right.”
The bite in Lena’s voice made Callia swallow hard. She didn’t doubt the half-breed’s story. But she forced herself to ask the question burning on her tongue, even though a part of her already knew the answer. “What happened after?”
“She escaped again and went back to my father. I was born not long after.” Lena dropped her arms and glanced down at the bed. “They were on their way to this very colony when a group of Argolean males tracked them down. When my mother refused to go back with them, a fight erupted. They were both killed.”
Callia’s eyes slid closed. She eased to sit on the bed again. “How did you…?”
“Nick and a few of his soldiers came across the fight. They killed several of the males. The others ran off. He brought me here, to the colony, and a woman took me in. I was two weeks away from my second birthday, but I remember bits and pieces of that fight. Of my mother. And I remember the scars on her back, just like yours.”
Callia’s heart broke for Lena, but her own situation was so different. She shook her head, opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s horrible. You have to know that isn’t normal in my world.”
“Not normal?” Lena’s eyes grew wide. “Look at your back.”
Callia shook her head. “No one tracked me down or forced me to submit. It’s not like that anymore.”
Fire erupted in Lena’s dark eyes. She pointed toward the door. “That so-called guardian out there is responsible for the marks on your back. He’s here to take you back. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not like that. He didn’t—”
“He did. I saw the guilt in his eyes. I saw the way you reacted when he whispered in your ear. And now he’s waiting until you’re healthy enough to take you back so he can punish you all over again. Well, I won’t let him. You’re not leaving here with—”
“He doesn’t know, Lena.” Callia pushed to her feet again, her own temper and voice rising. “He doesn’t know what happened to me because I never told him. It was my choice.” When Lena’s mouth snapped shut, Callia softened her voice. “Don’t you see? I could have stayed in the human world, but I chose not to. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with my father. The cleansing ceremony…” She lifted her hands, dropped them. “It’s not practiced anymore. My father is one of the Twelve and I…I was betrothed to a future elder. My relationship with Zander—” She looked toward the door, swallowed the lump of remorse suddenly thick in her throat. “It hurt my father, in ways you—no one—can understand.”
She glanced back at Lena. “I knew what I was getting into with Zander from the very beginning. I made my own choices. Zander has his faults, but he’s not like your pappous. He’d never intentionally hurt a female. And if he’d known what I’d chosen, he never would have allowed it to happen. No matter how he felt about me at the end.”
“Then why?” Lena asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why would you let them do that to you?”
Callia looked down at her bare feet, her toes all but buried in the thick carpeting. What answer could she give that would make even a lick of sense? It hadn’t entirely been for her father, to save face, to restore his name within the Council. It hadn’t been so she could marry Loukas down the road either—that hadn’t even been a thought in her mind. Part of it had been…for her. Her power was all about balance, about restoring order to the body, but she couldn’t heal herself. And crazy as it sounded, physical pain, though it hurt, could do that. It could ease some of the anguish in her heart and give her something else to focus on. And in some small way, it had been a step toward making things right.
“Because,” she said softly, “I needed my own sense of peace.” She shook her head again. “I know you can’t understand that. But this was not his fault. It wasn’t ever his fault.”
Lena glanced toward the door, and though there was still disapproval in her eyes when she looked back to Callia again, at least there wasn’t contempt. “I’m protective. It’s in my nature.”
Callia kept her distance from people, primarily because she’d learned to keep things to herself, but this was the kind of female she could see herself being friends with. “It’s a good way to be. For a healer. But Zander’s not the enemy. He never was.”
“What is he then? To you?”
The question threw Callia off-kilter. He was…the guardian who had turned her world upside down. The one person she’d never gotten over. And…the love of her life.
Her heart pinched at that realization, but she pushed the emotion away, like she’d gotten good at doing over the years. “He’s…Zander.”
Lena stared at her for a long minute, then finally sighed. “I guess this means you want me to be nice to him.”
One side of Callia’s mouth turned up at the edge. “Maybe not nice. Just not mean.”
Lena headed for the door with a roll of her eyes. “Not mean. To an Argonaut. It goes against my better judgment. I’ll tell him he can come in now.” She stopped with one hand on the doorknob. “I’d like you to stay another day and get some more rest. But I know you’ll do whatever you want. Regardless of what I think.”
“Thank you.”
Lena hesitated. “I’ve harbored resentment against your world for a long time. I’m not entirely ready to let go of that. But I may be ready to see another side. Maybe.” She opened the door. “Good luck to you, Callia.”
The door clicked shut softly in Lena’s wake. Out in the hall, muffled voices drifted to Callia’s ears. Lena’s, Zander’s. She wasn’t sure what was said, but the conversation was over quickly; then soft footsteps faded away.
Questions swirled in Callia’s mind as she sat on the edge of the bed again and tried to make sense of this crazy day. Lena had said he hadn’t left her for more than ten minutes since he’d brought her here. Was he gone now too? A small part of her hoped so. An even bigger part hoped not.
Gods, she was a mess.
She gripped the edge of the bed and drew in a deep breath that did little to calm her racing pulse. A soft knock sounded at the door, bringing her head up. She waited. When it happened again, she managed a weak “Come in.”
Chapter Sixteen
Callia’s stomach pitched as Zander stepped into the room. The always-confident guardian looked like death warmed over. Not physically—physically he was as strong and healthy as ever, his wounds from that cave nothing but a memory—but emotionally. His eyes were flat, his step heavy, his blond hair disheveled as if he’d run his fingers through it numerous times. An unseen weight seemed to press down on his shoulders and permeate the room around him, one Callia felt all the way to her bones.
She’d never thought of him as old. To the average human he looked like a sexy, rugged thirty-five-year-old in the prime of his life. But he wasn’t. He was 829 years old. And today—right now—all those years seemed to flicker in his stormy gray-blue eyes, reminding her of everything he’d done and seen and been.
“Lena said you checked out fine.”
Callia’s pulse pounded as she studied him. He was wearing the traditional black fighting pants—the same ones Titus had brought for him in that cave. The long-sleeved white Henley showcased his muscular arms and pecs and shielded all but the tips of his Argonaut markings down his fingers. Light stubble covered his square jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and the faint scars on his knuckles, his throat, the little bits of skin exposed here and there only added to his mystery and intrigue.
Gods, he really was beautiful. Even scarred from all those years of fighting. She remember
ed the first time she’d seen him. Nearly eleven years ago. She’d been thirty—adulthood for a human, a mere child for an Argolean. The king had specifically asked her to take over as royal healer, a position her mother had held years before, until her death. She’d been at the castle, overwhelmed yet trying to look like she had a clue, when she’d passed Theron and Zander in the hall on their way up to see the king.
Her heart had stuttered then—much as it did now—and she’d felt like she couldn’t breathe. He’d always had that effect on her. And it had only intensified, building until the night he’d pulled her into the king’s study and she’d thrown aside everything she’d ever learned about balance and order and given in to desire.
He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his pants but didn’t move. It was clear he didn’t know what to say or do, and in the silence, Callia’s pulse picked up to the beat of a marching band. She wasn’t sure why he was still here, but one thing was clear: he felt guilty. And that was something she couldn’t deal with.
“Zander, you don’t need to stay. I’m fine. You don’t owe me—”
“Did I ever tell you about my mother?”
The strange comment cut off Callia’s words. The intensity of his gaze told her whatever was on his mind was important, and maybe she should listen. “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“She worked at the castle.” He crossed to sit next to her on the bed, though he was careful not to touch her. “This was the twelfth century, so things were quite a bit different. Archidmus was king and the Council had way more sway over the monarchy then—over the population in general.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and kept his eyes downcast. “Her name was Khloe and she was a teacher. She taught the king’s children and some whose parents worked in the castle. She was bound to a scholar named Alastor. His older brother served as the family’s representative to the Twelve.
“They had no young, and had only been bound for a handful of years when my father, Nikator, came across her in the castle one day.”