Blood Bond (The Stones of Terrene Chronicles Book 4), page 5
Kerlee lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood, his skin pale and breathing shallow.
“We need a medic!” Raine shouted, dropping to her knees at his side, searching for source of the bleeding and mentally reviewing everything Papa had ever taught her.
Zak stumbled to his knees beside her. He helped peel back Kerlee’s bile-green shirt and swore at the deep slash in Kerlee’s gut.
“Ben and Geist are finishing the search,” Zak said, anguish ringing with each word. “Zaborah and Briar are taking Krista to Brandon.”
Raine nodded tersely, holding skin together for Zak to hastily stitch. It wasn’t pretty, and it would scar, but it might keep Kerlee alive long enough to get him to Papa.
“Zak.”
Raine stiffened at Ben’s voice, his tone in just that one word conveyed a deep sorrow. She braced for the news she feared.
Ben continued, “Jade’s not here. There’s no sign of her … or Victor.”
Her gut clenched. How much of a lead had Victor had? Was Jade alive? What did he want with her?
Zak stumbled to his feet, Kerlee’s blood coating his hands, and staggered toward Ben and Geist. “She can’t—she can’t be gone.”
Geist gripped Zak’s shirt. “We’ll find her.”
Zak jerked out of Geist’s reach and looked at Ben. “She can’t be gone,” he repeated, his voice breaking on the last word. He spun and slammed his hand against the counter top. “Whales!” He bent over the counter, shoulders shaking. “Why—what does he want? I can’t—not again. He’s stealing away my family. Again.”
Raine bowed her head and silently finished the battlefield stitches on Kerlee.
How would they find Jade now?
Chapter Seven
Jade
Jade’s untied wrists mocked her as she followed Victor’s friend out the Lucrum gate, a hood covering her distinctive red hair and hiding her well-known face. She wanted to scream. Cry. Run back to that house and force Victor to free Krista. She wanted to stop Victor from hurting everyone she loved. But she could do none of it.
Her free will had been stolen.
And there was nothing worse.
Then again, she actually traded her free will. And that was worth it.
Her arm throbbed in the cool, outside air, and the thin bandage he’d ordered her to wrap around the new tattoo was barely holding together. She needed to stop and tie it over again. But the woman she followed, Pamela, wouldn’t slow her pace for anything.
Rescuers would be looking for a man and a woman traveling together, not two women. Even in slipping out of Lucrum, Victor had thought of everything. And Pamela had proven thus far to be a silent, curt companion.
Jade studied the woman’s back as she moved deftly through the snow-dusted scrub brush. Was she one of Victor’s kind? An Elph? Pamela headed toward a squat stable yard that butted up to the Lucrum wall. She took orders from Victor, and it was clear that the other guy at the house—Markus—was Aerugan military. He’d also been bonded. He’d looked just as unhappy as Jade and Krista when Victor gave him his orders to kill anyone who entered the house. Had he succeeded? Was it too late already? Had anyone followed after Jade? Zak? Brandon?
Had they rescued Krista? Or were they all dead because of the bomb that Victor had placed in Krista’s hands and commanded her to throw. Jade’s friends, her family, would die because of her choices. Her guts twisted, and she half-doubled over, but continued to follow, cursing her feet for their mindless obedience to their command.
Her Monomi dagger weighed heavy on her hip, and she brushed her fingers over the hilt, drawing silent guilt-laced strength from it. Victor had already given his orders: She was to carry it but could not use it against him, or any member of his team. But he’d ordered her to use it to protect him from others—even at the cost of her own life. The chance of using it to stab him in the back was taken away before it was even a possibility.
Pamela stopped in front of the stable suddenly and turned. “You stay out here. I’ll get our mounts.” Her words dripped scorn. “Enjoy the warmth while you can.” The woman disappeared inside, and Jade waited by a short tree, shivering in the evening air. The bond hadn’t risen up to force her to obey, but Pamela wasn’t one that Jade wanted to spend any extra time with. And did Pamela really insinuate that this was warm? That didn’t bode well. The door opened, and Pamela stepped out, giving Jade a mirthless grin as she curled a finger, motioning for Jade to follow.
The shadowed form of a man leaned against one of the stalls. Pamela led Jade right to him. He straightened as they drew near, and Jade’s stomach sank to her toes at the cruel smile on Victor’s face.
“Get them out,” he said over his shoulder to Pamela. She nodded and let herself into the first stall, gently leading out a fully tacked mare. Victor stalked up to Jade and tapped his index finger on her chin. “Life as you know it is over, Your Highness. Say goodbye to all you love.”
Jade shivered and jerked her chin to the side, twisting away from his touch.
He chuckled. “There’s a chance I would miss that fire of yours, should I order it away.” He leaned down, his face inches from hers. “So don’t forget this, little Doldras. I own you now. I could order you to do a million different humiliating things. I could treat you like the trash you are, but I have a use for you. And it would be best if you stay on my good side.”
Fury threatened to burn her from the inside out. If she could, she’d treat him like the trash he was. He’d been the one to kill her father and Zak’s brother Zane. He’d helped take down the barrier. All the tragedy and grief in her life was his fault. She glared at him, willing him to see, to feel, all the hate in her heart.
Victor smirked and turned to his horse. “Mount up, little princess. I’m going to show you a whole new world.”
Chapter Eight
Christopher
Christopher stared at the ceiling from where he lay sprawled on the floor. The bed was just too soft to stay in, and he’d already slept in as late as he could. He wasn’t technically under house arrest and confined to only his room anymore, but nor was he necessarily welcome to wander the palace alone. Trust was slow to form. He could understand that.
He’d done all he could to show his trustworthiness, though, and now he waited for the Aerugan authorities to realize that he’d given all he could think to give.
He frowned. Pale gray paint smudged the white molding of the ceiling. Someone had been careless with a paint brush. Victor wasn’t careless. He was methodical and cunning, and while patient to play the long game, he also had the ability to be flexible and adjust plans accordingly. Had kidnapping Jade been something planned for a long time, or was that a last-minute decision?
If it was something he’d planned ages ago, odds were good all who were searching for Victor wouldn’t find him until he wanted to be found. But if it was somewhat of a hasty plan … maybe, just maybe, they could find them.
Lord Weston had already sent someone to inform Christopher that all the safe houses Christopher could remember had been checked and cleared. So, unless Victor had acquired a new safe house, he’d likely skipped town. But where would he go with a princess?
He wouldn’t go south, not where he’d be deeper in enemy territory. But he had alluded to being homesick. He’d mentioned craving to travel north. He’d said he was looking forward to returning to his uncle’s house.
Christopher sat up, thinking of the lay of the land, the way the mountains seemed to brush the sky, and the narrow path through them. And where that path led …
Andrea’s hair tickled his nose, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. He could just barely see through the splintering slats of the cart they’d been caged in, and a building loomed in the darkness, lit with torches, like a shadow walker monster of the night. If he let go of his sister, he may never see her again.
His arm hurt from the black line they’d tattooed on him, but that was nothing compared to the hollowness in his heart, listening to Andrea cry as they’d bonded her. A man in a uniform had moved in front of Christopher, blocking his view. Christopher had strained to look around the man’s gleaming buttons and perfect creases, but his orders to “stay” wouldn’t let him move.
“Look up at me.”
Christopher’s head moved to look up, even as tears dampened his cheeks. He wanted to see Andrea. He needed to see his sister. He fought the invisible bonds, but to no avail.
“Listen good, boy.” The man had cold eyes. Heartless, like a snake devouring a rabbit in the summer fields. “My name is Lord Sephirn. That girl is nothing to you, because you belong to me now.”
Christopher jolted free of the memory. Lord Sephirn. Of course.
He jumped to his feet and snatched a fresh paper and feathered quill from the table. If Victor had truly taken Jade to the north, there were several possible strongholds he’d travel to on the way to Avery. And Victor had history with Lord Sephirn. Christopher started scripting out names on the parchment. He needed a new map to write on, too.
He ran to the door and flung it open, hoping that one of the guards who seemed to be a permanent fixture in the hall was still there. Two guards this time, both watching him with startled expressions and hands on their sword hilts.
“Sir?” one questioned.
“I need you to go find Prince—King Brandon,” he gasped out. “I may have a lead on his daughter.”
Chapter Nine
Weston
Cotton balls filled Weston’s limbs, replacing his strength with that of a child’s. He’d been up pacing far too late last night, and after sending runners to all the nations regarding Jade’s kidnapping, he’d had one meeting after the next, putting out fire after fire, prepping for war. Typically, any time he spent at Francene’s was relaxing to some degree, but neither the cushioned lounge chairs, the stirring art, nor the tastefully appointed furnishings did anything to ease his nerves.
There had to be something they’d overlooked. Some detail that would help them find Jade. He trusted Zak to rescue her. But Weston needed Jade to help with the humanitarian side of the war, and her absence was already something he missed most keenly.
Brandon strode back and forth behind Krista’s and Briar’s chairs, and both Zebediah and General Titus had stationed themselves by the door, well within listening range and their bounds of protection. Andre and Niles stood behind Weston like two sides of the same guard coin. Francene leaned into Krista’s space, keeping Krista’s hand sandwiched between hers in a silent show of solidarity.
Briar answered for his wife. “He preferred Blue Sage some seasons, and other times he’d drink whatever the house beverage was.” He turned his hands, palms up. “It won’t be enough to go on, Your Highness. He’s like a ghost. He had preferences, but nothing traceable.”
Weston groaned in his throat and slouched, rubbing his hand over his face. The chair dug into the back of his neck, but he didn’t move. What other strings could they pull? Was there anything else they could do? His muscles trembled with fatigue and the need to move, to do something, to at least hit something. Shattering something, anything, sounded really good right now.
He stilled, capturing that red-tainted thought. Everett hit people and lashed out when frustrated. That was not Weston. Would never be Weston.
Weston blew out a slow breath, trying to release the vexation simmering beneath his skin.
General Titus cleared his throat. “My Lord, this is a distraction.” Weston cracked open an eye in time to see Titus bow at him. “In taking the princess hostage, Victor has successfully grabbed hold of all our attention, but we need to keep focused on the invasion.” Regret etched lines around Titus’s mouth. “We’ve done all we can at the moment for Jade.”
Zebediah’s eyes flashed and his jaw set, but he remained silent.
Weston straightened, his retort immediate. “We’re still working on both—”
“Wes.” Francene’s voice remained silky soft, but the steel in her tone demanded his heedfulness. Francene shifted, and her purple-black dress gaped open at the thigh. She casually smoothed the fabric to be more concealing while pitting Weston with a look that speared him through. “I know you want to save her. We all do. But the general is right. You are distracted.” She twirled her wrist to encompass the room. “We’re all distracted. All of us have jobs we’re not dedicating our full time to anymore. Don’t let everything fall apart just because she’s gone.”
Gone. The word resounded in Weston’s head, pinging around in his skull, echoing louder and louder until his heart throbbed in time with the sound.
Brandon braced his hands on the back of Briar’s chair, and Briar flinched. Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “If that Void-cursed Elph so much as touches my daughter—”
“Then you’d better hope you’re still alive to do something about it!” Francene cut him off and stood, her shoulders rising and falling as she pointed to each of them. “If you don’t adjust your priorities, we will all be in the same sinking airship as her, and no one will be able to help her, let alone those under our protection!”
Andre clapped once, drawing attention to himself before he started signing. He pointed to Weston. “You trust Zak, him find Jade? He strong, capable?” Andre looked at Weston with a pointed stare.
“I—yes.” Weston nodded. If Andre could remain calm, so could Weston. He stuffed his trembling fear and rage into a chest in his heart and locked it away. He’d find a way to release the excess emotions later, at a time he could afford to do so. “He won’t stop for anything.”
Andre raised his eyebrows at Brandon.
Brandon hesitated, and Krista broke her silence, twisting in her seat to glare up at the king. “Wasn’t his brother Zane your best friend? Do you think Zane would have a brother who wouldn’t give his everything for the woman he loves?”
Brandon’s throat bobbed once. “He’ll do his best.”
“Good. Now that we can all agree that the best rescue team is out there looking for her, we can focus on what’s important here.” Francene folded her arms and scowled down at Weston.
He wanted to both squirm under the ire radiating off her and snap at her for being right.
Her fingers skimmed over the edge of the table. “I’m not part of your war committee, and honestly, I don’t want to be. But I know subtle manipulation when I see it. That’s why I agreed to attend this meeting. Victor has all of you like puppets tied to strings, and he’s planning your every move.” She sank gracefully into her seat again, her tone softening. “Those strings need to be cut. So, what will be the first snip?”
Weston stared at the floor, his gaze drawn to the shining metal of Briar’s prosthetic leg. If only there was a schematic for life and what to do in this situation. Tiny gears whirred behind a crystal-clear covering, and small pistons pumped as Briar stretched out his legs, crossing one over the other.
Weston swallowed hard. “We––”
A knock sounded before the door opened, and a guard poked his head in, looking first to Weston, then to Brandon. “My Lords. The—” he hesitated. “The Void Born has some possible information for you.”
Weston’s breath seized in his lungs.
Brandon whirled toward the door. “Don’t just stand there, man! Bring him in!”
The guard pushed the door open further, and Christopher walked in, several papers in hand. His eyes widened at all of them watching him, and he ducked his head, then bowed. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
“You have information?” Weston prompted, inwardly reaching for the grace that his mother often emulated even when under stress. He gestured to the table that had been used earlier for refreshments. Krista bounded out of her chair to shove aside the tray of leftover fruits and breads, making space for Christopher to put down what he’d brought.
The door opened again, admitting Zak, Finn, Raine, and Ben. The last three gave Weston a short nod of acknowledgment, and he dipped his chin in silent greeting, but Zak ignored all of them, honing in on Christopher with all the intensity of a dactyl. “One of the guards said you had a lead. What is it?”
For once, Weston truly couldn’t fault the Monomi for throwing decorum out the window.
“That’s what we’re waiting to hear.” Brandon ground out. He moved to stand by Christopher, trying to look over his shoulder at the papers. “What did you think of?”
“Several things, sir.” Christopher winced. “Your Highness.”
“Drop the voiding formalities,” Brandon replied, his voice tense. He lightly brushed the papers with his fingertips. “What can you tell us?”
Weston joined the small knot of people by the table for a better view of the map and lists that Christopher had spread out evenly on the polished surface.
Christopher picked up a sheet and handed it to Brandon, then motioned for Finn to look at it too. “First, this is a list of Coven leaders that outrank you, Your Highness. If they all die, you can theoretically take control of the bonded under them, just like you did at the Hollows.” He tilted his head, his forehead crinkling. “I wonder if, and I’m no sage, sir, but I wonder if we got some of––any of––the Coven leaders’ blood samples, if we could bump you up to be equal in rank. Prevent you from being endangered by the Coven, that is.”
Weston raised his eyebrows. Brandon being of the same rank … that could be useful. He glanced at Finn.
Finn’s eyes were narrowed, his gaze distant. “That could be theoretically possible, yes.” He shrugged and handed the paper back to Brandon. “I would have to look into how to do such a thing. But Jaxton’s notes, for all he did to you, were fairly extensive. I’m certain we can recreate that result if we have fresh blood.”
Brandon’s skin looked a shade paler than usual. He gripped his sword hilt and shook his head, back slightly hunched. “I prefer to not think of how he bonded me in the first place.”
