Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(30)

He settled on the sofa and dropped his head back, eyes closed, preparing to reach out to Kizira. He called to her silently. Kizira?

No answer. Did she think she could hide from him? That bloody connection went both ways.

Quinn put force behind his next telepathic shout. Kizira!

A soft cry fluttered through his mind, sounding like the scattered pieces of an eggshell voice that had been shattered. Then one word squeezed through in a plea. Quinn.

What was she up to this time? Did she think he’d be so easy to trick again? He bit down on the urge to unleash his foul temper and kept his telepathic voice calm. I’m in no mood for games. Come and see me. I have something for you.

He fished a slender weave of braided hair from his pants pocket. No thicker than a strip of chewing gum and just long enough to fit around Kizira’s narrow wrist. She’d recently given him the thirteen-year-old keepsake made from his hair as an apology.

One he’d accepted, but he knew better this time. What’s going on, Kizira? I’m tired and I haven’t got a lot of time.

Cold fingers clawed into his brain. Sharp as talons with a fierce grip, they jerked him from his relaxed state. He slapped the drink down on the glass table at his side and grabbed his head. What the hell?

Quiinnn? quivered through his mind in a pitiful cry.

Stop it, he shouted back at her.

Trying to . . . talk to you . . . but I need help.

Lies. Always lies. Why wasn’t she teleporting in? Did she suspect retaliation for what she did? I know you’re compelled to do things. Come see me. This may be the last time I can talk to you.

Let her think something was going to happen to him.

No . . . wait . . . trying.

Her fear clutched at him, scratching for a hold. Blood trickled from his nose. He clenched his jaw, debating on using power, but he had to prevent a Medb from taking control of his mind. He shoved a blast of energy back through the connection.

The pressure stopped immediately.

What was going on?

For the slimmest moment, he considered her fear. Was it genuine? What could stop her from teleporting to him?

Nothing. Just another Medb trick.

He had to get her close enough to him physically for any chance of taking her captive.

This time, when he took her into his arms—and he would—Quinn would use his mind lock to prevent her from teleporting away. He swallowed against what he had to do. I thought you cared about me.

A rock of guilt balled in his throat and sank to his gut. He’d been a fool, still caring about the woman he’d met thirteen years ago. When he hadn’t known she was Medb.

Don’t think of her any other way and this will work.

Chilly energy swirled near him, brushing the skin on his face. Quinn opened his eyes to find an image trying to take shape between him and the window, where night still ruled. Kizira’s form normally coalesced quickly when she teleported, but the figure coming into focus now was nothing more than a wispy shape, blurry from the neck down.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, not glowing like they’d always been before. Beautiful, sad eyes stared at him, damp and pained, as though she’d been crying. Her lips moved.

No sound came through.

She tried talking again. Her face erupted with panic, then she squeezed her eyes shut. Veins on her forehead stuck out as if she was concentrating all her energy on one thing.

He sat forward, studying the strange vision, and spoke out loud. “What are you doing?”

Slowly, her neck and shoulders came into focus. She opened her eyes and took a couple of panting breaths. “Trying . . . to communicate.”

“Why aren’t you teleporting in?”

“I . . . can’t.”

“Why?” he asked with a load of suspicion.

“Locked . . . in dungeon.”

Truth or trick? He suffered a moment of ambivalence over the misery pulsing from her. Was she projecting her body from inside T?μr Medb and really in a dungeon? “Who locked you up?”

“Flaevynn.”

The Medb queen. But could he believe her? “For how long?”

“Don’t . . . know.” Her words came out in spurts, and sweat streamed down her face. The bulk of her body still hadn’t taken shape. “Sorry about trolls. Don’t . . . hate me.”

There was one way to determine if she was jerking him around or not. Reaching out to her mind, he lowered his control until he could enter hers without giving her warning, something he never did unless the safety of others was at stake. Right now, the safety of all Beladors was on the line.

The minute he entered her mind, sharp stabs shot back through the connection. He could feel the ward preventing her physical body from teleporting. She shivered in a cold room of stone. He hissed at the blades of pain streaking through her. “What . . .”

Her eyes widened. She shouted, “Stop!”

He snapped his control back in place, shutting down to the minimum access he’d allow to stay in contact with her. He’d planned for anything but this. Kizira really was locked away somewhere, and logic said the one person powerful enough to bind a Medb priestess would be the Medb queen.

His heart thumped with worry. What were they doing to her? Who other than Quinn would go up against Flaevynn to help Kizira?

What the bloody hell are you thinking?

He couldn’t cross that line again with her, could he?