Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(104)

She silently made the vow to Vela, instead, knowing the goddess would hear her and hold her accountable.

“So you see that I have spoken truth, chosen one,” Barin said and pulled on Gepali’s leash again. The old woman sank to her knees, unresisting. “Now tell me why you so urgently seek alliances from our neighbors. Perhaps you have also heard the rumors that the Destroyer is returning from across the western ocean?”

No reason to lie. “We have.”

“It is no rumor. He comes.” Those pale eyes seemed to glitter with amusement, as if Barin could sense the shiver that raced over Mala’s skin. “So it would be best for you and your people to form that alliance with me, because there will be no standing against him. He is the storm, and the wind, and the sun.”

Then Mala and her people would be mountains. They didn’t need to stand forever—only long enough. “Then we will speak of alliances after I have completed my quest. I have been told that a demon tusker haunts the mountains to the north.”

Barin abruptly stilled, his gaze intense on hers. “You seek to destroy the demon?”

Did he not want her to? Watching his reaction just as intently, she said, “Vela has sent me to tame the beast of Blackmoor.”

Utter silence. As he stared at her, the warlord’s expression loosened into stunned disbelief—then he snorted, and laughter erupted throughout the great hall, rising like thunder as courtiers slapped their knees and the tables, reaching a hysterical pitch. But although everyone laughed, not everyone meant it, and Mala saw the grief and confusion that passed over the faces of some. The marshal, who looked to the floor; Gepali, who looked to the heavens. A few of the courtiers wore grins that seemed like a rictus of death, and their chests hitched as if they’d rather be sobbing than laughing.

“Hold, hold!” Barin stood, calling for quiet, his amusement still shaking through every word. His glittering gaze fell upon Mala again. “I have longed to see that beast tamed again. This is the brightest news that my court and I have received in some time.”

Again? “Vela must believe I can achieve that which you have only longed for, my lord.”

“Not if you search for the beast in the mountains. You should wait for him in the Weeping Forest, instead—or at the maze, as he should be returning through it shortly. And you will need this.” Quickly he pulled Gepali up by her graying hair and unbuckled the collar. “If you bring the beast back here, tamed, I would not have much use for this one any longer. I would consider her debts paid in full if you return with him on her leash. I will consider all of my servants’ debts paid, and remove the collars of every one, for the beast on a leash is worth more than a dozen others.”

Jaw set, Gepali stared back at Mala with wild eyes—as if silently begging her to refuse the offer. With ice filling her stomach again, Mala strode forward to accept the collar.

“My lord,” she said, “I know of a man who will shortly be returning through the maze. Do I seek the one called Kavik?”

At the mention of his name, silence again—but Mala imagined the click of Barin’s teeth as he grinned, and she saw more runes tattooed into his palms as he held out the coiled leash and collar. That familiar cold dread scraped down the back of her neck, and she lifted the leather from his grasp without touching his skin.

“That is he.” Barin sat back again, softly petting Gepali’s head. “You have met?”

“We have.” With a thin smile, Mala bowed. “I will return when my quest is finished, Lord Barin.”

He nodded, still so pleased, and though her hand itched for her weapon, Mala didn’t try to take his head with her sword. Clutching the leash and collar, she strode between the courtiers’ tables, ignoring their shouts of encouragement. Her gaze fixed upon the group of leashed debtors. Though she held their freedom in her hand, there was little hope to be seen in their faces when they looked at her. Their spirits seemed to resemble this land, barren and gaunt.

And though there had to be others who stood against Barin, Kavik was the only one she’d seen fighting for any of Blackmoor’s people. Now she would bring him here with a collar on his neck?

She made it past the columns before sour bile shot up her throat. Forcibly she swallowed it down. Vela could be cruel, but this could not be what the goddess meant by taming. And it wasn’t how Mala would have tamed any being—beast or man.

But no doubt this was what Kavik would think she intended to do to him. Again, if Barin was to be believed.

Outside, the rain had returned in full force. Shim met her near the inner gates. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his mane.

This could not be what Vela intended. It could not be. Mala simply had to trust in that.

But her voice was still thick when she said, “It is never the easy path, is it?”

And there was nothing to do but follow it.



KAVIK finally dreamed of her again.

After two years without seeing her while he’d slept, her return was more torturous than the absence had been—because this was not a vision sent to him, but a memory. This time he didn’t watch her from a distance, as a stranger. This time he knew the warmth of her touch. He knew the huskiness of her voice. He finally knew what to call her.

Mala.

He met the gray dawn with her name on his tongue and need hardening his flesh. But the torture wasn’t over. Because she’d finally come. The woman who hadn’t been much younger than Kavik the first time he’d seen her, a stripling Krimathean with a long brown braid and a wild edge to her grin. He’d watched her train with sword and axe and fist, just one of many young women and men—and he’d watched her practice alone by moonlight until her arms shook from exhaustion. He’d watched her fight; he’d seen her face ground into the dirt by her opponents and he’d seen her win. He’d watched her scream with laughter after diving into icy mountain streams and dance in the firelight until her body glistened with sweat, and as she knelt with tears dripping over the unmoving figure on her mother’s bed.