A flicker of regret crossed Samar’s dark gaze. “She may be your sister, but you’re as good as my sister.”
Nadine’s stomach tensed at his words. If Samar had his way, she’d be a lot more than that. But the man had never made a move on her, a fact for which she gave him credit. Still, he dared a few steps forward.
“I just want to know you’re doing this for the right reason.”
Nadine tilted her head back to let him know his unwarranted concern came dangerously close to angering her. “And what do you say is the right reason?”
“Because you’ve thought it through and you know what you’re doing. Not because you think yourself some sort of martyr. Ebron is too big for that.” He smiled. “Even bigger than your pride. Hard to believe.”
Nadine ran a light but solid fist into his chest, as much to put space between them as to break up the ratcheting tension. “It’s large enough to crush you, Captain.”
Samar rubbed at where she’d struck him. “Don’t I know it.”
They continued toward the Golden Gate, and the strain between them eased back beneath the surface.
Lapour was known as the city without walls and, until recently, no one had ever dared invade. Leave it to mindless monsters urged on by the influence of ancient devils. They’d be sorry; Nadine would see to that.
They were almost through the gate when she turned to Samar. “You can go now.”
Samar crossed his arms over his chest as he peered out over the sand. “So, where is he?”
Nadine was wondering the same thing. She forgot Samar long enough to perform her own assessment of the desert. The savage had said he’d be here, not that she was surprised he lacked discipline.
“Go. I’ll wait.”
Samar hesitated.
Nadine rolled her eyes. “The worst that could happen is he could not show up. Then I’ll be forced to take your advice and remain a spinster.”
He pursed his lips and started to salute her. “I’ll meet you at—”
A roar vibrated over the sands, cutting off Samar’s words.
They turned as one in the direction of the monstrous sound. Nadine could only guess what was coming from over the echoing dunes. Then, like a rising sandstorm, a blur of wings and shadow rose from the northern horizon, against the backdrop of snowcapped mountains. The shadow it cast sent shivers down Nadine’s flesh.
Samar startled at the sight.
Nadine beamed. Her feet were rooted to the ground as she took in the glorious spectacle above them.
Gegatu.
It landed a good hundred yards away on the rise of a rusty red dune. Little tornados of sand whirled up beneath its brown wings as the gegatu settled itself. Nadine stared in rapt fascination as a mountainous figure straightened behind the raised wing of the serpent. It could only be Magnus. Was he a man or a phantom to rise so smoothly from the back of such a powerful creature? The shuffling beside her broke Nadine from her trance.
“Get out of here, Lanta,” Nadine hissed at her friend. “Now.”
Samar peeled his gaze away from the Dokiri to shoot her a resentful glare, one mired in genuine concern. He took a deep breath only to let the air out in a huff of resignation. With a single nod and one last, skeptical look cast in Magnus’s direction, Samar stalked back into the city.
A wave of relief slipped through Nadine as she turned back toward the savage, who was taking his time getting off his steed. Fiddling with the saddle? At least now she could size him up in peace without concern that she might look like a gaping little girl.
The gegatu pulled its wings inward and gave an irritable hiss Nadine could hear even from so far away. As Magnus slid off its back, the wyvern slunk to its belly on the sand and stretched its neck out, as though to catch every ray of the sun spearing down from the heavens. Magnus didn’t pause. The instant his boots touched the ground, he prowled toward her like a lion who’d set its sights on a newborn calf.
Steady yourself, Nadine.
She slipped her hand beneath the scarlet cape that covered one of her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the warm metal of her lancet, a telescoping spear that, on certain settings, could serve as a single or double-ended sword. Nadine surely was no wide-eyed and helpless infant creature. Though a lion, he might be.
Her heart picked up speed in her chest. His eyes narrowed on her to match the smirk stretching across his handsome face.
“Here already? And I thought I’d have to chase you down with my friend back there.”
Nadine straightened, her hand falling away from her weapon as she pinned the barbarian with a sterile glare. “I’m on time. You are late.”
Magnus raised his open palms toward her in a gesture of peace even as he drew closer. “Had I known my bride was so eager, I’d have been here sooner.”
Nadine’s mouth flattened. “We have things to discuss, you and I.”
Magnus looked away as though he hadn’t heard her, his eyes focusing in the direction Samar had gone. “Who was that?”
“If I do this—”
Magnus peeled his gaze away from Samar’s retreating figure to fix a look of amusement upon her, as if to say, I thought we were past “if.”
“—I’ll do it with your understanding and agreement that the ritual is done in concept only.”
The corners of Magnus’s mouth drew down in an expression that said he was trying hard not to laugh. “You want me to conceptually put a scar on your body?”
If Nadine thought she could get away with it, she would’ve answered in the affirmative. But a scar mattered little to her. She had plenty. What mattered to Nadine was whatever it meant to this barbarian. “You’ll be keeping your cock to yourself, or I’ll be relieving you of it.”
Magnus shifted with exaggerated discomfort at her threat. “You sure you have a big enough knife?”
Nadine would cheerfully use a spoon and revel in its painful dullness if the barbarian attempted to impose himself upon her. “Once you’ve done whatever you must to satisfy your people’s superstitions, you and I will have no interaction with each other except that which is necessary to complete our mission.”
Magnus’s expression lost some of its teasing edge. He raised a brow.
“And once we defeat the Soul Thieves, we will go our separate ways. Me back to my life, and you back to yours.”
Magnus studied her a moment. “You can get back to gnawing on the bones of any man sorry enough to cross your path, and I can get back to”—he tilted his head—“what is it you think I do?”
Nadine had heard the stories, some from the mouth of his own brethren. “You keep that precious mountain of yours clear of veligiri vermin, so that you can lick your snow piles in peace.”
Magnus threw his head back on a laugh. “I have no retort for that. The food in Ebron makes me feel like I’ve been sucking on ice my whole life. I think it will be one of the things you miss most about your home once you’re settled in Bedmeg.”
Bedmeg. The barbarian’s homeland. Nadine dragged a breath in through her nose. “Were I ever to find myself trapped in that godsforsaken hovel, I’d miss a lot more than food.”
“Like what?”
“My freedom, for a start.” The little that she had. “A purpose outside of spreading my legs to welp more barbarians upon that barren rock.”