The Curse (Belador #3)(91)

Sen growled, “What?”

“I’m taking all the Beladors I can with me to Treoir and need you to teleport us now.”

“Why?”

Tzader swung a vicious look at Sen that warned him not to waste time. “Our warrior queen is in mortal danger.”

Evalle had never seen Sen show understanding for anyone, especially her, but his whole demeanor changed to compliant. Did Sen know how much Brina meant to Tzader beyond being their warrior queen? Would he even care?

Evalle rolled her eyes at the ridiculous thought.

Sen said, “The fastest way to send you is as a group. Line up your Beladors so that they touch each other in some way, even if they just grab each other’s clothing. When you’re ready, open your mind to Treoir. I’ll be the only person besides you who will know the path to your destination.”

Tzader’s voice boomed in Evalle’s mind as he sent a telepathic message to all the Beladors, dictating which ones would travel with him and who would stay to aid Sen. He wanted everyone ready to go in sixty seconds.

Trey handed Casper his weapon and joined Tzader’s group.

Quinn snagged Lanna and pulled her aside. “I’m glad you’re safe, but I want you out of here.”

“No, I must stay with you,” Lanna said in a panicked voice that surprised Evalle. “I helped. You would not have known where Svarts held everyone if I had not been here. Do not leave me.”

Quinn leaned down, putting his hand on her shoulder and patience into his voice. “We’ll talk about all this when I get back. You’ll be fine until then. I have a car arriving in five minutes to pick you up outside. Go directly to the suite and stay there this time. Understand?”

Lanna said, “Yes,” but her eyes said she felt abandoned.

Evalle’s empathic ability kicked in at that point, and she felt … not abandonment, but … fear. Hard-core terror. The Svarts were dead, so what scared the girl? But Evalle could do nothing at that point. She certainly owed the girl her gratitude for the boys’ being alive, but Evalle would have to address that when she returned from Treoir.

“Is everyone ready?” Sen asked Tzader, who was snapping orders to get into position.

“Yes. Locate the Svarts on Treoir. Put us between the trolls and Brina, but closer to the trolls if possible.”

Evalle hooked the strap of the weapon over her head so that it hung across her chest. Fingers crossed in hopes she wouldn’t humiliate herself by throwing up, she stepped up to the packed circle of fifty Beladors.

Something touched her boot.

She looked down, but nothing was there.

As Tzader said, “Ready,” two arms snaked around Evalle’s waist and pulled her back against a rock-hard chest. She snapped, “Just grab my shirt, for crying out loud.”

She tensed but had no time to swing around and shove the guy away as everything swirled into a blur of teleporting.

Warm air rushed along her neck when a deep voice said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Storm? You can’t come with us.”

“I’m not letting you face another demon Svart alone.”

She relaxed in his arms, exhilarating in a selfish moment of feeling happy since she couldn’t change what was already in motion. He kissed her neck and warmed her in his arms, but every good thing in her life usually came with a cost.

No one should be traveling to Treoir except Beladors.

She prepared herself for Tzader’s reaction when he realized she’d brought an outsider into the sacred home of Belador power.

Tzader’s words to Sen hit her. Put us between the trolls and Brina. What if the trolls had already entered the castle? Sending Tzader through the warding would kill him.





THIRTY-ONE




When the teleporting ended, Evalle opened her eyes quickly and finally took a breath. Not inside Treoir Castle. Tzader hadn’t been killed.

She gawked at the glittering castle, which rose from a mist surrounding the curtain wall like a floating moat. She marveled at the grayish-pink twilight, neither sunlight nor the darkness she’d left in Atlanta. Lush green land sprawled for a half mile in any direction from the castle, flowing to forests with giant trees that reminded her of the redwoods in California. Sen had dropped them in knee-high, silky grass growing at the edge of a forest directly across a wide stretch of land from the castle entrance.

How far away were the purple-and-blue mountains in the distance beyond the castle? Hundreds of miles?

When Storm pulled his arms away, Evalle took a step back and almost fell over Lanna, who had a hand on her boot. Evalle hissed, “What’re you doing here?”

Lanna looked up with wide eyes. “Please do not tell Cousin. I could not stay back there without him.”

Quinn walked up and snarled through clenched teeth. “Lanna?”

Evalle couldn’t recall Quinn ever losing his temper so easily and didn’t know what Lanna’s problem was, but she took pity on Lanna when Quinn’s face contorted with barely controlled rage. Hoping to ease the tension, Evalle said, “We’ll find a place for Lanna to wait, Quinn. She’ll be okay.”

“No, she won’t,” he snapped at Evalle. “She’s going to get our people killed if she doesn’t get herself killed first.”

Lanna dropped her head. “I am sorry.”