Alterant (Belador #2)(56)

Larsen said, I wondered when someone would come looking for my spirit. I granted this connection and will allow you to witness this glimpse of the future only if you agree to protect my son.

Agree to anything with a bastard who hadn’t given a damn about his child? Quinn would love to interrogate the spirit—and choke him to death. But that would be redundant, and he would not risk alerting the Medb to his intrusion.

To do so would allow access to Conlan’s mind.

Quinn would protect the young man first above all else.

If this really was a precognitive vision, getting an insight into Medb plans could be great news for Beladors, so Quinn nodded to encourage the spirit to continue.

Larsen turned his gaze toward the meeting in progress. His skin swayed with the movement.

Quinn did the same and willed the vision to turn slowly so that he could see everyone’s faces clearly. He paused the motion when the chanting ended and the figure on the platform lowered the hood on her robe.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at learning her identity, but one mistake and Kizira would know he was present.

This was new territory for him in mind probes and not the place he wanted to learn the consequences of making an error.

He reached for his deep point of peace to remain invisible.

The Medb priestess addressed her group. “I have seen a vision of breaching the Castle Treoir.”

As a direct Medb descendant, Kizira had once told Quinn that her visions were destined to become reality. She said, “I have seen the face of the one who will lead the charge.”

Quinn’s control quivered at the fierce urge to protect their warrior queen. Much as he wanted to return immediately to Tzader so they could figure out how to shield Brina, he couldn’t.

Not until he had learned all he could from Kizira. He tried not to think about what would happen to Kizira if she attacked Brina. Even if Kizira was Medb, she’d once saved his life . . . and shared her body with him.

He forced his mind to be still again.

Kizira’s voice rose with jubilation. “We have waited a long time for this opportunity and for the one who will hand us the key to our success. Step forward, brother, and tell everyone how we will triumph over the Beladors, who have persecuted you even though you bleed their blood.”

A man in the center of the pack moved forward and lifted his hands to his hood as he spoke. “There is an Alterant who is ready to lead us to victory by breaching the warding of Treoir Castle. In return, we have offered this Alterant what no one else can, the end of being victimized by the Beladors.”

When the hood dropped to the speaker’s shoulders, Conlan’s face—right down to the comma-shaped scar on his cheek—shook Quinn to his spine.

Conlan said, “When the time comes to take possession of Treoir, Priestess, I will deliver you Evalle Kincaid, who will destroy the inhabitants of Treoir Castle and open the gates for you.”

In that split second, shock overrode his emotions. Quinn’s control cracked.

Kizira’s head slashed sideways, her sharp gaze slicing through the layers of the vision to reach him.

Her eyes widened. Recognition. Shock. Confusion.

In the next second, she dove into his mind with a rush of emotions. What’re you doing here? I miss you. If you interfere, you’ll die. You shouldn’t be here . . . you betray me?

Her mind steadied and toughened as quickly as he tried to raise his mental shields against her.

Too late.

She was inside his mind, the last place he’d allow anyone.

And she was Medb.

Larsen laughed and howled. Fools, all of you.

Quinn called his spirit home, backing out of the mind lock with lightning speed. He gritted his teeth against the hot streaking pain that burst through his head and body.

The pressure built in Quinn’s head and expanded, ready to explode. Ferocious pain stabbed the inside of his eyes at a blinding pace.

Conlan groaned and cried out.

Someone yelled at Quinn, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. His head screamed for relief. Red hues burst behind his eyes . . . or was that blood?

At a distance, he heard Conlan howling like an animal trying to rip his leg from a steel trap.

Something hit him hard in the face . . . again . . . he put a hand up to stop the attack. Opened his eyes.

Tzader stood in front of him with sick worry in his face. “What happened, Quinn? Can you hear me?”

“I’m . . . I . . .” He crashed to his knees, unable to stand up. Warm liquid ran from his nose and ears. His vision had turned bloody.

Tzader was there with him. “Tell me what to do.”

“Conlan . . . alive?”

“Yeah, but he’s bad off. He’ll need a healer.”

“Gimme . . . minute.” Bile rushed up Quinn’s throat. Something drove a wedge down the center of his head. He gritted his teeth harder.

“Want lights?”

“No.”

“Quinn, your nose, ears and eyes are bleeding. Tell me you aren’t going to die from this.”

“Don’t . . . think so.” Quinn held up his hand that he needed a minute, but it would take longer to quiet the hellacious pain in his head. He couldn’t be sure Conlan wouldn’t hear, so he spoke to Tzader telepathically though it doubled his misery. Medb have a plan . . . to breach Brina’s castle. They mentioned . . . Evalle.