“Stand down,” Kael ordered, his voice booming through the night. “These people mean us no harm.”
“You picked a hell of a time to come,” Lucian said by way of greeting.
“It didn’t seem fair for your people to suffer out here another night,” the man in the middle said.
He looked vaguely familiar, but it had been decades since Lucian had cause to interact with one from the Vale’s Council, and it could easily be the descendant of a man he’d once met. The speaker had faded orange hair. It might have once been the same color as Ronan’s, but time had softened its burn. His skin was near translucent in the moonlight, his eyes a pale gray.
Lucian quickly assessed the strangers flanking the speaker, starting with the younger woman beside him. She was perhaps half the speaker’s age and shared his coloring and features. Daughter . . . and possibly heir. On her left another man hovered protectively in front of her, not bothering to mask the threat in his dark eyes. And that would be her mate.
To the other side was another male-female pair, although where the first couple had the aura of diplomats, these two were clearly soldiers. They did not have the sheer strength or size one usually associated with a warrior, but there was a calculating gleam in their eyes that Lucian recognized. That, combined with the wickedly sharp blades at the end of their polearms, painted a pretty clear picture. It had been a long time since Lucian had used a glaive, and he couldn’t help but feel a professional curiosity about their weapons as his eyes returned to the speaker.
“I take it you’ve accepted our request for asylum,” Lucian said.
The man dipped his head. “We have.”
“I can’t help but notice the representatives we sent to speak with you are absent.”
“Already making themselves comfortable below.”
Lucian’s jaw clenched, but he did not voice his frustration.
Ronan let out a disbelieving laugh.
The speaker lifted a pale orange brow. “That’s amusing to you?”
“Just seems to me that our comrades could have as easily been slain as doing as you say. It does not invoke much comfort that you have appeared without them.”
The two soldiers at the man’s side did not move, but Lucian didn’t miss the way their grip tightened on their glaives.
The man’s pale gray eyes glittered dangerously in the moonlight. “Are you insinuating that we are murderers, Shield?”
Ronan’s eyes widened at the use of his title, but he did not back down. “No. Simply pointing out how this looks to the casual observer.”
Lucian was inclined to agree, but he knew Nord. The youngest of the Guardians was as prone to break the rules as he was to follow them. Often the one left behind while Kael and Lucian took care of various matters, he would absolutely take advantage of the opportunity to eat and bathe before the rest of the group.
Kael and Lucian exchanged a knowing look. Lips pressed together, Kael discreetly shook his head.
“We mean no offense, but it has been a trying time. I’m sure you can understand,” Lucian said before Ronan could get them into real trouble.
The man glared at Ronan a second longer before his expression evened out and he nodded. “Of course. Your home was destroyed, your people slaughtered. It stands to reason that your manners would be lacking.”
Ronan grunted.
“Gather your people and your belongings. Let’s get you settled.”
Lucian relaxed at the words, the tension melting from his shoulders as he turned to obey. His relief lasted for a second, maybe even two, before his eyes landed on the wagon. They may have overcome one obstacle, but a bigger, much riskier one still waited.
“Councilman,” Lucian called over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
“There’s something else we need to discuss.”
Chapter 8
The Councilman stared into the wagon, his face leached of the little color it retained.
“You want me to allow that . . . thing . . . into my city?”
“Her name is Effie.”
Gulping, the older man blinked up at Lucian. “All due respect, Guardian, but that is no woman.”
“She is a close friend of the Kiri Helena. We cannot simply abandon her.”
“Be that as it may, Guardian. The risk is too high.”
“You have my word that no harm will come to your people because of her.”
Lucian could read the sympathy in the man’s eyes as he replied, “You must care for her deeply, and I have no doubt of your skill, but—”
“Councilman, please . . .” Lucian’s hand was wrapped around the other man’s wrist. He did not beg. In his position, he rarely needed to. People often obeyed without question, and those that didn’t quickly had a change of heart after a little convincing.
“How can you be sure your bindings will hold?”
“They have so far. None but a handful even know of her presence. I thought it best until we found a cure.”
Effie chose that moment to let out a muffled growl and writhe in her chains. The Councilman flinched and scrambled away from the wagon.
“I don’t know . . .”
“You have my word. You know that a Guardian does not give it lightly.”
Lucian should have felt bad for placing such a decision at the other man’s feet. If their roles were reversed, Lucian would not be half as accepting. Not after what he’d seen in Caederan. Luckily for him, the Councilman had no such references to draw from. He only had Lucian’s promise that Effie would not be a threat.
“She stays bound and locked in one of our holding cells at all times. If you find the cure you seek, you will perform any rituals locked in the cell with her. Until we are certain she has recovered, she will not set foot outside her cage.”
Lucian fought a snarl at the word. It would not be the first time his fledgling had been caged. From what he knew of Effie’s upbringing, it was a form of punishment her parents utilized often. His options were few, but to have to agree to such a thing . . . it rankled.
Vowing to make it up to her if they got through this, Lucian gave a terse nod. “Agreed.”
“Guardian . . .”
Lucian braced himself, the Councilman’s tone warning enough that he would not like what the man was about to say.
“If you do not find a cure before her transformation is complete, I’ll kill her myself.”
Rage exploded through Lucian, and his voice dropped to little more than a savage growl. “Touch her and you better wish she’s the one that ends you, Councilman. Because if she doesn’t that means you’ll have to deal with me, and I will not make it quick.”
The older man blanched, and there was no missing the stench of fear as it rolled off him.
“If the time comes I, and I alone, will see to her. Do you understand me?” Lucian asked, stepping forward to invade his space.
“Y-yes, Guardian.”
“Then it’s settled. Show me where we’ll be staying.”
Gulping, the Councilman called over his shoulder. “Quin, Trinity, take our guests down to the holding cells. Then show the Guardian to his room.”
The two Lucian identified as the soldiers peeled away from their perch by the tunnel. They’d remained behind after the last of the Keepers made their way down the ladder to wait for their leader.