“We can’t risk you,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing those words, but they are true nonetheless. Deacon will—”
“I have to help him.” Somehow. I’ve let Clay down too many times. “I’ve never declined a mission, Levi. Let me do this. I can do what Deacon can’t. I can talk to Killian and gain inside info.” I don’t like pitting the boy I love against his realm, but today I’m going to do it. I love Clay, too, and I will do anything to help him.
Levi offers a stiff nod and types another message into his keyboard. “No fighting for you,” he insists. “You can stay here, speak with Killian. I’ll give you five minutes. Relay all intel to Deacon when he arrives and return to Troika. Meanwhile, I’ll have other troops out searching.”
At least Levi trusts Killian to help us and not betray us. A huge step forward. And whether Levi realizes it or not, this trust heralds peace. Not with Myriad, but with Killian himself.
One person. One change.
Levi’s gaze locks with mine. “I’d stay with you, but I’ve set a meeting with the other Generals. May your quest be enlightened.” Then he’s gone, vanishing in a blaze of Light.
Alone, I press my thumb against the symbol for pi that hangs from my neck. As I wait, I pace, too rattled to stay still.
A burst of shadows suddenly shoots through the ceiling and hits the floor. In the center, Killian appears. He’s in a Shell, like me, concern pulling his features taut.
“Clay is missing.” I rush to him, throwing my arms around him. “We think Myriad has him.”
He holds me, and I imagine his peat smoke and heather scent surrounds me. “They do. I managed to convince my Leader I’ve got you at the end of my hook, so I’m still somewhat in the loop. Victor recovered enough to trick Clay into thinking you’d been captured. Clay went to save you, walking right into a trap.”
This is the worst possible news.
No! He lives. There’s hope.
“Do you know where Clay’s being held?” I ask.
“I don’t. I’m sorry, lass. I’m only being fed select information while I prove my loyalty.” With a sigh, he sits on the couch and tugs me onto his lap. “I know you, and I know you’re planning to go after him. Don’t. His abduction is meant to draw you out.” He reaches in his pocket, pulls out a flash-scribe—what looks to be nothing more than a small black button. “After what you did during the last battle, our Generals fear you.”
“They should! I’m bad to the bone. Or good to the bone.”
He smiles and kisses the corner of my mouth, admiration glinting in those blue-gold eyes. “Yes, you are.”
I snuggle closer. He pets my hair.
We touch as if we’ll never get another chance.
My internal clock buzzes, and I stiffen. “I don’t want you to go,” I tell him, “but Deacon is headed this way and—”
A blaze of Light erupts in front of the door.
Too late. Deacon appears. He’s dressed in black and armed for war. Fastened to him are a sword, spear and shield. He nods to Killian, then to me. Killian nods back.
I look from one to the other. “You guys are cool with each other?”
“We’ve...chatted.” Deacon sits in the chair across from us. “Someone update me.”
“Clay is alive.” Killian relays the details he shared with me. “He’s bait, and he won’t be killed as long as Ten is alive.” He motions to the flash-scribe. “You need to listen.”
Trembling, I press the center of the device. At first, there’s static and huffing, as if someone is running.
“We have the boy?”
“The speaker is the Prince of Ravens,” Killian informs us. “One of his assistants gave me the flash-scribe, said he heard I had a thing for a Troikan girl. I think he was told to give me the flash-scribe. I think this is a test to find out what I’ll do, maybe even an attempt to manipulate you through what you hear. But if what comes next is true, you need to know. You need to prepare.”
The recording continues.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Spread the word. Make sure the Conduit learns of his capture.”
Footsteps. The click of a door being opened and closed.
The male who’d issued the orders speaks again. “Ready the troops. Every Messenger, Laborer and Leader. Keep the Conduit outside Troika. I want our people surrounding the realm by the end of the day. Block all Light. The weaker their people, the easier our victory.”
The hate in his tone is just as clear as his words. This man...he taught Killian that victors are adored and failures abhorred, encouraged Killian to do anything—lie, steal and kill—to win a battle.
No wonder he named one of his sons Victor.
There’s a rush of pounding footsteps. The door being opened and closed again.
“How many agents do we have inside Troika?”
“Nine.”
“Excellent. Have them—”
The device goes quiet, revealing the hard rasp of my breathing.
Killian rubs my arm up and down. “If this is true... I’m sorry.”
Zero! There could be more monsters walking among us. Evil cloaked in righteousness.
Overcome by urgency and uncertainty—a toxic mix—I fight the urge to curl into Killian’s arms and check out. We need to act, but action without clear direction will get us nowhere fast.
“How do we know you aren’t part of this?” Deacon grates, his jaw clenched. “How do we know you aren’t setting us up for failure?”
Killian gazes at me, his expression grave. “You don’t.”
“I know,” I insist. “I trust you. Always. You and I will rescue Clay. Deacon, you go home and warn our king of a possible attack. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Killian shakes his head before I finish. “I told you, lass. There will be traps set specifically for you. I’ll look for Clay. I can sneak attack. You can’t. You are Light, and you can’t hide anywhere. Your presence is a beacon.”
“I hate to say this but he’s right.” Deacon stands. “I’ll accompany Killian. You return to Troika. If we can’t stop the attack, the people will need your Light.”
Logic I cannot refute, no matter how badly I want to.
“I won’t let anything happen to Clay,” Killian vows, his arms tightening around me. “I will find him, and I will keep him safe.”
During my Firstlife, Killian’s actions led to Clay’s Firstdeath. He attacked Archer while we were racing down a snow-covered mountain, and it caused the avalanche that tossed Clay over a ledge.
Whether Killian admits it or not, he’s not doing this for me. Not entirely. He is atoning for a crime his king once praised him for committing.
“I know you will.” My chest constricts. We’re both heading into dangerous situations. “If something happens to me—”
“Nothing will happen to you.” He grips my shoulders to shake me. “You will fight, and you will survive. No other outcome is acceptable.”
I kiss him hard, and I kiss him fast, Deacon momentarily forgotten. Killian kisses me back, his strength seeping into me, as if I’m drawing Light from him—because I am?
Yes! I am, and the realization stuns me. Despite his tie to Myriad, there is Light in him.
Lifeblood (Everlife #2)
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