Joules leaned against the side of the truck. “Evie can make promises for him all she wants to, but we both know Death’ll never share his resources with us. Especially now that there’s a little Reaper on the way.”
“I’m not eager to sing the praises of the man who married the only woman I’ll ever love—”
“And knocked her up.”
“—but Domīnija’s honorable. You help reunite him with his wife and kid, then he’s goan to reward you.”
I had to admit that I’d actually liked the man. Take away the drama around us, and I could almost imagine us being podnas. We’d emptied more than one bottle of whiskey together, and I’d found him to be honest, smart, and brave as the night is long.
Evie might think that her and Domīnija’s baby would be a mix of the worst in the world; I didn’t see that at all.
In fact, I probably cared more about the kid than she seemed to. Mixed up with all my jealousy and confusion, I felt a strange sense of protectiveness.
If I was this conflicted, I couldn’t imagine how she must feel.
She’d admitted that the kid could’ve shielded her from the Hanged Man, but in the same breath, she’d blamed the baby for draining her . . . .
“Just think about my idea,” Joules said. “Goin’ to take a slash.” He ambled off.
A what? And folks thought I talked funny?
Kentarch exited the truck, looking damned hale for a man who’d lost a body part just days ago.
Cauterizing was a great way to stop blood loss, but it left the door wide open to infection—especially since he’d stopped eating. Evie’s plant-based drugs must be helping him out, because he hadn’t developed a fever, and his wrist was healing without issue.
When I’d seared his skin, the smell had reminded me of branding myself to get rid of the Lovers’ mark on my chest. And then when I’d done it for Selena.
I rubbed my scar. Burning off that hateful mark had been Death’s idea. Another thing I owed him for.
I told Kentarch, “You need to eat something.” We still had some lion left. I’d been hoarding my share for Evie and the baby. Apparently she’d thrown up everything before this meat. She hadn’t lost her stomach since.
Kentarch blinked at me, as if I’d just uttered nonsense. “Taking from our supply when I can no longer contribute?”
“Contribute?”
“I can deploy no offensive weaponry, and my teleportation power is nonfunctioning.” He’d strained it so bad against Richter that he still couldn’t manage so much as waver. He hadn’t been able to return to Death’s to check on that sphere.
Okay by me. I’d rather Kentarch not know if that alliance located his wife. Evie was safer that way.
He continued, “My father taught me that there is power in excellence. Does the opposite not follow then? That without excellence, there is only weakness? What use will I be to Issa like this?” He held up his stump.
“Well, ole Jack Deveaux is here to teach you something too: anything is better than nothing. If you ate, you’d replenish your power faster. As for shooting, can’t you aim with your left hand?”
He raised his chin, bitterness in his eyes. “No. Not at all.”
“Then learn the hell how to.” I tossed the empty gas can into the truck bed. “I taught myself to shoot with either hand in no time.” I patted the trusty bow over my shoulder. First thing I’d done was restring it.
“You did?”
“Ouais. You can too.” I saw a spark in his gaze battling that bitterness. “Look, Kentarch, your wife might be alive. She might not be. But if she is, she’s goan to need whatever you can bring to the table.” I clamped his shoulder. “It’s mind over matter, podna.”
Accent thick, he said, “I believe very much in the strength of the mind.”
“Bien. You got work to do. We’ll train every day.”
He nodded, his posture straighter than before.
Evie opened the cab door then and hopped down before I could help her. She ambled over to sit on a nearby rock. Looking lost in thought, she began braiding her hair.
My fingers itched to thread through that silken length. Her sweater rode up, revealing her barely rounded belly. On her steady diet of lion, she was putting on flesh, looking as curvy as when I’d first met her.
Lust was a punch to my gut. Fantasies ran riot in my head. I shouldn’t crave her this way. But God, I did.
Kentarch must’ve read my thoughts. In a lower voice, he said, “You want her that badly, and yet you’ll fight to get her back into the arms of your rival?”
Inner shake. “I’ll fight to get her to safety. She needs inside that castle. If that means back with him . . .”
Kentarch seemed to be considering this. “I could find myself in the same situation as you. What if Issa is carrying another man’s child?”
“What would you do?” I respected Kentarch’s opinions.
“Celebrate that she was alive. I hold so much love for her that it would spill over to any babe she bore. Our connection is so strong that I would become a father—just by virtue of her becoming a mother.”
Is that what’s happening to me?
“The longer you provide for and protect the one you love and her babe, the more you’ll think of both as your own.”
“That so?” Then how would I take losing them when Domīnija went back to normal and wanted them back?
“Hunter, whatever we’re going to do with this mission, we need to be quick about it.”
I gazed at Evie’s belly. Blasting past all my reservations was that strange protectiveness—a feeling so strong it scared me. “Ouais,” I told Kentarch. “We got to move damned fast.”
26
The EmpressDay
556 A.F.
“I’ve never been on dunes this high,” I told Jack as we climbed a mound of blackened sand under a lightning-streaked sky. He’d insisted on going before me, making me follow in his tracks.
“Me neither.” He paused, and I caught up with him. Gazing down at me, he said, “This is just like we planned all those months ago.”
“Yeah.” Somehow we’d made it to the Outer Banks. Together. It’d been our mission, the reason we’d banded together in the beginning.
Back then I’d had no idea what Aric would come to mean to me—or how strong my feelings for Jack would become.
For the last few days, I’d felt his eyes on me constantly. I’d see him reach for me, only to lower his hand, as if he no longer had the right to touch me. Or maybe he was trying to keep his distance. To protect his heart.
But whenever he finally pulled over to sleep, I’d curl up next to him, yearning for the physical contact, the comfort of his strength.
After a hesitation, he’d always pull me close. He’d needed the contact too.
“Let’s take a breather.” He opened his canteen and handed it over. All we had left was water, a few rations of lion, and Kentarch’s sacred bottle of Tusker beer.
I accepted the canteen, but said, “I’m fine.”
“Not stopping for you.” He jerked his chin at my midriff.
Jack had shown more concern for my kid than I’d managed to. His loyalty was so strong, he would even protect another man’s child.