Captain Huntley by firelight, partially covered by a woolen blanket, was one of the finest sights Thalia had ever seen, and that included sunrise over the red cliffs of Bayanzag, a Kazakh hunting eagle soaring in flight, and the gilt sculptures of the divinely inspired Bogdo Gegen Zanabazar.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to stare—there were some English concepts that had been impressed upon her from an early age, including modesty and a decent amount of decorum, as well as a love of a decently made cup of tea—but it was very, very difficult to keep her eyes where they were supposed to be. The captain had wrapped the heavy blanket around himself like a toga, so she had a perfectly lovely view of his broad, sculpted shoulders, and his lean, muscled arms. Oh, princesses had abdicated kingdoms for lesser arms. The light from the fire played across the burnished gold of his skin and caught in the dusting of fair hair on his forearms. Unfortunately, he’d wrapped the blanket so that his chest was hidden from her sight, but even the glimpses of his collarbones, the shadow in the hollow of his throat, and the strong column of his neck could keep her well satisfied. For now.
And there were his hands, his feet, capturing her attention. Large, capable, unmistakably masculine, and so powerfully suggestive that Thalia felt herself spellbound. She wanted those hands on her, touching her, wondered what they would feel like. Rough? Gentle? She wouldn’t mind, either way.
He knew what effect he was having on her. She saw the gleam of amusement and interest in his eyes whenever her gaze lingered on him too long. She saw, too, the way he looked at her from across the fire. They had survived a harrowing ordeal together; they were both young and healthy, and far from the structures of social custom. It was only natural that desire was there, in the cave with them, making the air thick like smoke.
Men were creatures she understood. Their motivations were more direct, purer than women’s. Sex was a matter of simple bodily needs for them. They wanted. They took. She might not be a classic beauty, but the captain would not refuse her if she asked to lie with him. It wouldn’t take much. Batu was asleep. All she had to do was beckon to Captain Huntley, or stand and let her blanket drop. The rest would take care of itself.
Thalia, however, wasn’t a man. She had desires, just as they did, but satisfying them was not so uncomplicated. She had almost taken a man to her bed, and had paid dearly for even that brush with sex. If she actually gave her body to a man, she could not protect her heart, could not treat the matter lightly, as if she was simply eating an apple when she craved something sweet. Men, especially beautiful, physical creatures like Captain Huntley, had the luxury of walking away and remaining intact. She did not.
So she might look, but she would not touch, would not taste, and would try as best she could to be content. Though it was deuced hard.
She attempted to distract herself by focusing on her mission, and telling the captain everything he might need to know as they pursued their goal of protecting the unknown Source. Night had fallen, the rain had slowed. The cave offered a momentary illusion of safety and peace.
“In my del,” she said, “you will find the Compass Tony asked you to give to my father.”
Captain Huntley leaned toward the pile of her drying clothes—ah, Earth Mother Etugen! the muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms seemed made of rough satin as they flexed with movement—and rifled through the pocket of her coat until he produced the object in question. It sat in the palm of his hand, appearing small and ancient in contrast to the living energy of his skin. Thalia moved closer and took the Compass from him, her fingers brushing against his palm. She fought the impulse to shiver.
Flipping open the lid, she showed him the inside of the Compass. She remembered her father giving it to her in Urga, the pride in his eyes. She was not a Blade yet, but the Compass would be both her protection and duty.
As the captain leaned in to look, she could smell him, his flesh warmed by the fire, the water that still dampened his hair, even his breath mingling with her own.
She made herself speak in a level voice. “The blades that mark each direction on the Compass symbolize the span of our mission: to traverse the world and protect the Sources. In the center of the Compass is a rose, which bids us to be merciful and compassionate in our mission.” Thalia closed the Compass and ran her thumb along the writings etched into the case. “These messages are from our ancestors, urging us to do right, even when faced with…temptation.” She struggled a little over that last word, knowing what temptations she wrestled with that very moment. She and the captain were sitting very close to one another now. She could lean forward slightly and brush her lips against his throat where, she saw, his pulse moved steady and strong beneath his skin.
“Each member of the Blades of the Rose carries this Compass,” she continued. She made herself concentrate on the Compass. “They are the Blades’ most prized possession, and no one, including the Heirs of Albion, knows of their existence. Even the threat of death cannot induce a Blade to part with it.”
“Morris gave it to me.” She felt the dry brush of his breath on her cheek.
“So you would give the Compass to my father. There are many Blades all over the world, but they don’t always know each other. The Compass lets them see that they are amongst friends. But that isn’t enough. An object can be stolen, no matter how well it is guarded. So there is another way.”
Captain Huntley nodded with understanding. “That was why Morris had me say, ‘North is eternal.’”
“Yes. It is the first part of the Blades’ catchphrase. When a Blade meets another Blade, the first must say, ‘North is eternal.’ The response is: ‘South is forever. West is endless. East is infinite.’ It helps them to know one another, and reminds them of the scope of their responsibilities.”
“Someone might not answer correctly, though. Someone who’s trying to infiltrate the group. How can Blades protect themselves against enemies?”
“They are not called the Blades without having more than a little fighting skill.” She glanced at him, now leaning even closer, and felt herself drawn into a warm cocoon that surrounded them both.
“Even the women?” Humor danced in his amber eyes.
Thalia felt her mouth curve in a smile. “Even the women.”
As their gazes held, the moment stretched out between them, growing heavy and almost languid. Thalia could hear, faintly, the popping of the fire, Batu’s quiet snores, the horses as they slept standing up at the back of the cave, and the trailing off of the rain outside. But everything sounded so far away, so distant, and Captain Huntley was so near, he became all she saw, all she heard. His pupils widened, darkening his eyes. A muscle flexed along the square line of his jaw.
He reached out, and she started to close her eyes, thinking he would touch her, but instead he took hold of a lock of her hair. It was still damp, just beginning to dry at the ends, and he wound it slowly around one long, blunt-tipped finger. Thalia lost the ability to breathe. Her dark hair wrapped around his finger was the most intimate thing she had ever seen.
When he bent his head down and lowered his mouth to hers, she did not move back. Nothing felt more natural, and yet, the feel of his lips gently brushing against her mouth was something she could never have anticipated. Some semblance of self-preservation kept her from opening to him, but his gentleness was deceptive. Gradually, inexorably, he took small tastes, sampling her and in so doing, growing more hungry, more demanding. As was she. Thalia could not resist, and let her lips part. It was enough of an invitation for him to take the kiss further, deeper. And he did. They opened to each other. A tender, warm invasion, barely civilized but never brutal.
She didn’t know. Hadn’t known. That a simple kiss could wreak such delicious havoc. It never had, before. But this. This was opening the atlas to find a whole, unexplored world within its familiar pages. She was an explorer, and needed more.
She set the Compass down. Her hands came up and caressed his wide shoulders, danced up his neck. His skin was marvelous, almost fever warm, and his body was knit together with hardened muscle. She threaded her fingers into his damp hair and pulled him closer. In her mouth, he growled, and the vibrations jolted straight through her, right down to the place between her legs, which grew moist instantly. Desire had never hit her so hard or so quickly. She pressed her thighs tight against each other.
He must have released the ribbon of her hair, because his own hands came up, stroking along her shoulders. The rough fabric of the blanket frustrated him, and he pushed it down, partially uncovering her skin. When he touched her again, it was the meeting of flesh to flesh, his palms along her collarbones, across her sensitive upper back. The skin of his palms and fingers was work rough, rasping against her, and she felt in them such strength, such capability and ferocity, but also the hint of an unexpected gentleness. She wanted him everywhere, and let the blanket drop so it gathered in heavy folds at her waist, so she was bare to him.
He didn’t pull back to stare at her. Instead, he let his hands look for him. One pressed tightly against the small of her back, and the other, oh, the other, curved around her breast. Thalia heard a mewl as it arabesqued from her throat. She’d never made that sound before. A deep rumbling from low in his chest was his response, like a feral creature calling from another nighttime mountain. The large pad of his thumb brushed against her tight nipple, and though she tried to keep her knees locked together, hot, vivid sensation caused them to drift open. She began to lean back, pulling him with her.
Batu’s snore, heavy and unaware, was the dart that pierced the bubble of her fever spell. Her trusted friend slept only a few yards away.
Thalia pulled away. She did not want to, but she had to, and she tugged the blanket back up over her shoulders with clumsy fingers. She wanted what she knew she should not have. As she gulped for air, she looked at the captain with dazed eyes. His jaw was tight, his eyes had a hard gleam, and he, too, seemed to lack for air. He did not look dazed. He looked sharp, painfully focused, and not a little riled. It had been a long time since Thalia had been close to an aroused man, but she’d forgotten how potent they could be, just by revealing their desire. Especially this man.
“I shouldn’t…have let it go so far,” she said. Thalia had never heard her voice this way before, so breathless, so close to seduction. “I’m sorry.”
“We took the path together,” he growled.
“Yes, but—” But what? She had been foolish. Men could turn desire on and off like a lantern, blinking in the dark, but she should have known it would be different, more consuming, for her. She’d wanted him inside of her, wanted him there now. It was a shock to her. Even the pleasure she’d had from Sergei’s touch faded into a dying ember compared to the uncontrolled blaze that now moved beneath her skin. She hadn’t counted on that, not at all. “We should get some sleep, Captain,” Thalia finally said. “Much of today has been lost. We’ll need an early start tomorrow if we’re to make up time.”
He gave a single, clipped nod. He looked so fierce, she wondered if he would simply reach out, grab her, and finish what they had started. She almost, almost, wished he did. But he must have seen something in her, fear, perhaps, that kept him at bay. Yet, his exercise of honor was taxing him. She saw it in the straining muscles of his arms that seemed to hold him back, felt it in the waves of barely leashed hunger that rolled off of him. It would be so easy, so easy to lean toward him…
“I feel odd calling you ‘Captain,’” she said instead. “So formal.”
In a low rumble, he said, “I’ve been just ‘Huntley’ or ‘Captain,’ or ‘sir,’ for a long time.”
“Can I not call you by your Christian name? And you can call me by mine. You are not here as a soldier.” She was amazed she could string that number of words together.
“If that’s something you want.”
“I…do.”
She felt strange, awkward, vaguely embarrassed. He wasn’t making things any easier, simply staring at her with that undisguised need in his eyes. “Do you want something to eat?” she asked. “I think most of the provisions were washed away in the river, but we’ve a little left.”
“No.”
“Ah.” The silence stretched tightly. “I’m not hungry either.” Still nothing. She put the Compass back into the pocket of her del. Finally, she said, “Good night, Gabriel.” His name felt wonderful in her mouth.
“Good night, Thalia.”
She shut her eyes to the picture he made, speaking her name, but the sound of it lingered just behind her heart. She had done the right thing by ending their kisses and caresses. Captain Huntley—Gabriel—was far too dangerous.
Thalia did not open her eyes until she heard the rustle and shift of the blanket. When she did look again, he had moved so that the fire was between them. In his hand was a piece of sodden paper. He tossed it into the fire, and the flames hissed and sputtered briefly before consuming the paper entirely.
“What was that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Something unimportant.”
Thalia saw he would speak no more on it, but watched as he lay on his back, and stared up at the roof of the cave that had been cold and damp but was now impossibly close, impossibly warm. Thalia also lay down and pulled her own blanket around herself as tightly as she could, as though swaddling herself. Restricting her movement. Keeping her from getting up and lying down beside him.
This had been one of the most draining days Thalia had ever experienced. Chased by a deadly storm, fighting a flood before helping to save Batu from drowning, revealing the secret world of the Blades. And Gabriel’s kisses, his touches, whose power eclipsed everything else that had come before.
As she fell into an exhausted sleep, Thalia wondered if, on this journey, the greatest threat would come from the Heirs, or from herself.
“Tell me where we are going.”
Thalia glanced over at Gabriel riding behind her. They had set out before dawn and ridden in silence. She took the lead, Batu held the middle, and Gabriel kept watch from the back. Her few attempts at conversation had died, so she had resigned herself to listening to the birds call to one another as they wheeled in the clear sky. She had been wondering if he was angry with her, but she would not apologize for protecting herself from certain injury. Now, at least, he was breaking the silence that had accompanied them for most of the day.
“The message from Tony said that we were supposed to ‘seek the woman who feeds the tortoise,’” Thalia said.
“I’ve a feeling there’s more than one tortoise in the whole of Outer Mongolia,” he answered dryly.
“Yes,” she agreed, “but I doubt any of them would harbor one of the Sources, whatever it is. But there is one place where I think we can find a special tortoise.” She looked around, as if the Heirs might be hiding behind some scrub, eavesdropping. But, of course, Gabriel had already done a thorough reconnaissance of the area, and she knew with confidence that it was secure. Even so, she lowered her voice. “The city of Karakorum. It’s another day’s ride from here.”
“And do the Heirs know of this place?”
“Doubtful, otherwise they wouldn’t have tried to beat it out of me. It seems that their Mongol is more concerned about his own interests than the geography of his home country.”
“Not much of a home to him, if he’s willing to sell its treasure to the highest bidder.”
“He should be horsewhipped,” Batu said angrily. “That yamaa is no son of Mongolia.”
“If we ever find him, Batu,” Thalia answered, “we will give you that privilege.”
Batu held up his tashuur, the whip all Mongol horsemen carried. “With this, I will take the skin off his miserable face.”
Gabriel looked at Thalia, one eyebrow quirked. “He’s just bloodthirsty enough to be a naval officer.”
“Not so surprising, since Batu claims to be a direct descendant from Genghis Khan, himself,” Thalia said with a laugh. “But, given that the Great Khan sired probably whole cities of children, almost everyone in Mongolia is his descendant.”
Refusing to be baited, Batu merely sniffed and held up his tashuur again with a threatening air while Gabriel chuckled. Thalia wondered if this meant that the tension between them had gone. She surely hoped it had. It would be a long journey to Karakorum otherwise.
Everyone fell quiet until a few minutes later, when Gabriel sped up so that his horse was beside Thalia’s, and said, “I don’t usually kiss or fondle the men I campaign with.”
Thalia looked at him and was relieved to see him genuinely smiling. She had thought him attractive before, but the smile transformed him into something mythically handsome, which was less of a relief. “And do they kiss or fondle you?”
“They try,” he said with a negligent shrug. “I’m devilishly good-looking.”
Honest laughter bubbled up from inside her; she felt release from the tension she had been carrying.
“Thalia.” She still had not gotten accustomed to his speaking her name, and it curled warmly in her belly. “I’m not sorry for what happened last night.”
“I’m not, either,” she said, though that wasn’t entirely true. She was only sorry because she had been given a glimpse of a country she could not explore. “However, you have to understand, Captain—”
“Gabriel,” he reminded her.
“You have to understand, Gabriel,” she continued, “that it cannot happen again.”
He looked chagrined, but not, it turned out, with her. “Damn,” he muttered. “Been out of decent company too long. I forget that a bloke isn’t supposed to paw a woman he fancies.”
She felt absurdly happy that he should admit to fancying her. Still, it could not lead anywhere outside of her own secret, feminine gratification. Perhaps there was a way that ladies usually let men know that they did not welcome their amorous attentions, but Thalia had never learned it. Her father, it turned out, had not covered that when supervising her education.
“Let’s just stay focused on the task at hand,” she said. It was the best she could do without inventing a complete fabrication or, worse, telling him that he could easily leave her heart battered and bleeding without much effort on his part. She understood men enough to know that such a confession would strike a man dumb with terror. “We have enough to concern ourselves with. Agreed?”
He cursed some more. If he ever did plan on mixing with “decent company,” as he called it, something would have to be done about his language. That was a topic for another time, however.
“Agreed,” he finally grumbled.
That should have made her feel better. But knowing that she would never again experience the marvel that was Captain Gabriel Huntley’s kisses, Thalia didn’t feel at all better. She felt…lonely.
At the very least, after she and Gabriel had settled matters between them, the travel became less fraught with internal tension. Thalia did not lose her awareness of him, not at all, but it was an awareness with which she could come to terms. The whole of the day was spent riding in watchful readiness should the Heirs attempt another strike against them. They skirted around several ails to ensure speed and secrecy, even though Thalia wanted nothing more than to rest and enjoy some hot food and tea. Once they had reached Karakorum, it would be easy enough to replenish their supplies at the nearby monastery of Erdene Zuu. For now, they had to settle for rationing out their remaining borts and aaruul and try to ignore both the monotony and scarcity of their diet.
The past months in Urga had robbed Thalia of some of her usual stamina. When she and her father had lived out on the steppes, days of riding hard would not bother her. But city life had softened her. So when it came time to bed down for night, Thalia tumbled into an immediate and dreamless sleep. Somewhere, out on the steppe, the Heirs were watching, waiting, and that alone should have kept her awake. Yet having Gabriel nearby, knowing that she and Batu were both safe while he was around, allowed her to give in to her fatigue completely. One moment, she had closed her eyes, the next, she was being gently awakened by Gabriel’s hand on her arm, dawn light gilding his shoulders. She couldn’t think of a better way to greet the morning.
“We should reach Karakorum today,” Thalia said after she had rinsed her mouth with water.
“Thank God,” Gabriel muttered. “I’ve nearly pulled out half my teeth chewing on that dried mutton.”
As Thalia swung up into the saddle, she grinned. “The Mongol horsemen used to soften borts by putting it underneath their saddles as they rode. We could try that to make it more palatable.”
Gabriel made a face. “Dried mutton and horse sweat? Even enlisted men were fed better. It’s grounds for mutiny.”
“I hope not,” Thalia answered. “Flogging is so time consuming.”
By late afternoon, they had entered a broad valley, through which flowed the Orkhon River. Thalia had been to the Orkhon Valley before, but its beauty always filled her heart with lightness. Small stands of trees clustered on riverbanks bright with sun. Scattered throughout the valley were groups of gers, smoke rising from their chimneys into the sky. A shepherd on horseback tended his cattle, and the echoes of their lowing could be heard across the basin. A few monks from the monastery had left its walls and were taking their leisure by sitting in the sun on the grassy knolls, their robes spots of flaming color against the green.
“A lovely spot,” Gabriel said. “But where’s the city?”
“This is it,” Thalia answered. She gestured to the wide plain. “Karakorum.”
“But it’s…”
“A ruin. Yes.”
She kicked her horse into a gallop, and, with Batu and a mystified Gabriel following her, they descended into the valley that had once held the great city of Karakorum. Now it was a barren field, empty of everything except a few weed-covered rocks. The only sounds of civilization came from the temples inside the monastery, where the many monks went about their lives and prayers.
They walked their horses around the desolate plain. “There’s nothing here,” Gabriel said.
“Karakorum was once the capital of the Mongol Empire, built by Genghis Khan’s successor, Ogodei Khan. It contained the royal warehouses, where all their plunder was housed.” Thalia looked around as if trying to conjure up the long-destroyed walls from her imagination. “Treasure came from everywhere: China, Persia. Anyone wanting an audience with the Great Khan had to come to Karakorum, even envoys from the kingdoms of Europe.”
“That must’ve been a long time ago,” Gabriel murmured. “Just rocks and weeds now. Not even a battlement left.”
“Six hundred years can rob anything of its greatness,” Thalia said.
“So what happened to this place? Doesn’t seem to be a spot you could easily defend, out in the middle of a valley.”
“Most of the soldiers who had defended it left when the capital was moved by Kubilai Khan to Peking. A little over a century later, Karakorum was razed by Manchu soldiers. The treasure disappeared. Nothing remains of the great capital.”
He gazed around at the empty space where once a marvelous city and palace stood, the center of one of the greatest empires the world had ever known, and shook his head. “A man spends his life chasing power and glory, something for the world to remember him by. He thinks it’ll last forever, but…” Gabriel shrugged. “It’s just dust and weeds. And sheep,” he added, hearing one nearby bleat.
“So what should a man, or woman, chase?” Thalia asked.
Gabriel stared at her with a strange intensity that was almost too much for her to withstand, before turning away. “Damned if I know.” He gave his horse free rein, letting the mare amble over the grassy field, while Thalia and Batu slowly trailed after him. Strange, but she could swear that the ruins had provoked a small fit of melancholy in the tough-skinned captain. “There’s nothing here,” he said at last, “that’s for certain. So why come?”
“Not everything was destroyed by the Manchus.” Thalia urged her horse into a brisk, brief canter, nearing a large stone shape that stood close by. As their group drew closer, it became more clear what the shape represented, and it made Gabriel chuckle.
“A damned tortoise,” he said, rueful.
Thalia dismounted and walked up to the stone animal. The wind and centuries had worn away much of its elaborate carving, but the tortoise was still easily identifiable as it stared with unseeing eyes up at the sky. The sky looked down, ageless, far removed from the concerns of empires, khans, and stonemasons. Around the tortoise’s neck were bright scarves of blue silk, tributes left by travelers and nomads. As Thalia ran her hand over the sun-warmed stone, she heard Gabriel dismount and walk up beside her. She watched his hand also run along the back of the tortoise, touching the stone with surprising reverence.
“There were four of these tortoises once,” she said quietly. It was difficult to find her voice when she was somewhat hypnotized by the strength of his large hand, its movement across the stone. A vivid sense memory of his hand on her skin, on her breast, pulsed through Thalia. “They marked the boundaries of the city and guarded it.”
“Odd to pick tortoises for the job, and not something fierce, like lions or dragons.”
“Tortoises represent eternity, longevity.”
“Not so eternal now, eh, friend?” Gabriel asked the tortoise. When there was no response, he gave the stone animal a friendly, consoling pat. “Not much to say. That’s all right, lad. We’re here to talk to the lady that feeds you.”
Thalia frowned. She still could not puzzle out what that part of the message meant. “I knew that Morris’s clue directed us here, but I thought something about the old capital might be revealed to us once we arrived. There once was so much treasure here, I thought for certain that one of those objects must be a Source.”
“If it was here,” Gabriel said, turning around and leaning against the tortoise, “it’s long gone, now.” He patted the stone again. “This chap isn’t talking, though.”
“What should we do, Thalia guai?” Batu asked.
Thalia contemplated the tortoise. She honestly did not know if there was something, or someone, they should look for. “Let’s ask at the monastery,” she said after some time. “Perhaps they know of someone who ‘feeds’ the tortoise.” They all agreed that this was the best plan and set off to see it through.
Several hours later, however, Thalia was ready to tear out her eyelashes in frustration. Discreet inquiries at the monastery led nowhere. None of the monks they had quietly spoken with knew anything about a woman who had anything to do with the stone tortoise, let alone fed it. Most of them stared at Gabriel with undisguised fascination, having seen few white men in this isolated part of the country. Thalia, Gabriel, and Batu were given some buuz, steamed dumplings, which were wolfed down by their party in a matter of minutes, and washed down with cups and cups of milk tea.
When they finally emerged from the gates of Erdene Zuu, all they had to show for their efforts were full bellies and Batu’s pockets laden with juniper incense, purchased from the monastery, which he intended to give his parents the next time he visited them. The afternoon was gone, and night had turned the sky indigo. The only sources of light in the Orkhon Valley came from the gers dotting the fields and the torches burning inside the monastery.
“I suppose we could ask at some of the gers,” Thalia said tiredly, trying to keep irritation from hardening her words. “But I’m concerned that if we do, it means more trails for the Heirs to follow.”
“There was this bloke in Jhansi, ran a lamp shop,” Gabriel said. He reached into his inside pocket and produced a cheroot, which he proceeded to light. The brief flame from the match gilded the plane of his jaw before being shaken out. “Knew everybody and everything. Including, it was whispered, the location of a secret stash of weapons that were going to be used against the Maharajah in a bloody uprising. So I went to the bloke and asked him. But the cussed man gave us nothing. It was damned nasty. Still, I didn’t want to beat it out of him, the way my superiors wanted. I got what I was after, though.” He took a draw on the cheroot and exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke.
Thalia was blindsided by a vivid memory of him tasting of tobacco and whiskey. “How did you manage that?”
“By waiting.” He grinned around the cheroot between his teeth. “Stood outside his shop for days. Didn’t say anything to him. Or anybody else. I leaned against the wall opposite the shop, arms crossed like this and face like this.” He demonstrated, folding his arms across his chest, and suddenly looked quite intimidating with only a tightening of his jaw and lowering of his brow. No one could disobey Gabriel if he summoned menace so easily. Even Thalia felt momentarily cowed by this brief demonstration. And just as quickly, the menace was gone, and it was Gabriel again, talking easily about the past. “Just stayed there, watching him. And after three days of this, the blighter drags me inside and tells me everything I needed to know. Pressure got to him. We found the guns, ended the rebellion before it began.”
“So,” Thalia said slowly, “you’re suggesting that we wait and see before charging off to do something foolhardy.”
Gabriel tapped the ash off the end of his cheroot before answering. “I’m not suggesting it.”
“I might point out,” Thalia said, bristling, “that you are not in the army here in Mongolia, nor are you in command of our party.”
He shrugged. “You might. But you strike me as a clever lass, one who wouldn’t let her stubbornness and pride muck up an important mission.”
Thalia muttered something in Mongolian that made Batu choke. It wasn’t particularly flattering toward tall, fair-haired, and high-handed former army captains, of which Thalia knew only one. “All right,” she said in English. “If nothing happens by morning, we head out and track down this woman.”
“Sensible decision,” Gabriel said with a nod. “And watch your language.” At Thalia’s questioning glance, he answered, “Don’t have to speak the language to know when somebody’s calling me a rotten bastard.”
Unfortunately, that made Thalia smile, so her annoyance with Gabriel was nearly gone by the time they hobbled their horses and hunkered down next to the stone tortoise. For a few hours, the three of them sat together, backs against the tortoise, and spoke quietly, trying to pass the time. Gabriel smoked half of his cheroot before putting it out and saving it for later. As each hour passed, and the lights in the surrounding gers winked out as their inhabitants went to sleep, Thalia became more and more convinced that coming to Karakorum had been a mistake. Perhaps the clue referred to something else besides the stone tortoise? If so, what? Maybe the Heirs had learned the clue and deciphered it, and were even now in possession of the Source. Had she failed the Blades so soon?
“Steady,” Gabriel murmured into her ear. He nudged her with his shoulder. “You’re keeping the horses awake with your fretting.”
Thalia did not reply. There was nothing to do but wait in the dark, watching the moon rise, and she did not realize that she had fallen asleep until she became aware of the fabric of Gabriel’s coat against her cheek. Not only that, but she was clasping his arm, holding it between her breasts as she leaned against him. His very hard, very strong arm. She came fully awake with a start, throwing herself backward in an attempt to put some distance between them.
In the silver gleam of the moonlight, she could make out Gabriel’s lopsided smile as he watched her flop around on the grass. She wondered if he was going to say something horribly cutting about her throwing herself at him, but was spared that ignominy when his expression sharpened, and he began to stare fixedly out into the darkness.
“What is it?” she asked, but he held a finger to his lips without so much as a glance her way.
Thalia pushed herself up and tried to focus on whatever it was he saw. At first, she thought he was funning her, or, at the least, had simply spotted a wolf out prowling for prey. But just as she was about to dismiss his intense concentration as the byproduct of too much military training, Thalia saw movement at the edge of the field. Movement that was definitely not an animal. Thalia heard the soft clink of metal against metal. She didn’t even know Gabriel had gone for his revolver until she saw it in his hand.
“It’s just one person,” Gabriel muttered. “Are those bastards really that cocky?”
“Can you tell who it is?”
He shook his head, still peering out into the dark. “Get your rifle,” he growled to Thalia as he rose into a crouch. He nudged Batu’s foot. “You, too. Take my Snider carbine, not that antique you’ve got. And both of you, don’t leave the tortoise,” Gabriel added, looking pointedly at Thalia. When she nodded, he started to move away soundlessly.
“Where are you going?” Thalia hissed.
“To surprise our friend.”