CHAPTER NINE

When thunder roars and lightning has her say

The clouds erupt, emitting fleeing rain

Who sees the sky at war without a thought

Of why such close kin ended up in pain

A tempest’s fury views all men with scorn

Royals and rustic both revere the storm

—THE BOOK OF UNVEILING

Kyara was just considering whether to douse the four covered wagons parked to the side of the warehouse with kerosene, as well, when the odd cloud of dust reached her. A hand reached out of the swirling mass to knock the metal canister from her hands. The force was enough to cause her to stumble and fall to the ground.

Her hood fell away as she sprawled on her back. Her ribs, still sore from Aren’s attack, protested harshly, but she held back a cry of pain. The teen she’d met, Farron, stood above her, his hair even wilder than it had been last night. Next to him, blocking out the sun, stood the man from the bar.

Though he was in shadow, his eyes blazed, as intense as the heat of the day. “You!” He crouched down, allowing her a closer look. “What in pip’s name are you doing?” he whispered fiercely.

She froze, staring up at him. Those devastating eyes regarded her from an oval face; a dusting of stubble ran across his clenched jaw. When his eyebrows descended, she mentally shook herself, shocked at her reaction. Scrambling backward, she looked around, expecting the other Keepers she’d sensed in the area to emerge from their hiding places.

“There are children in there,” the Keeper said through gritted teeth. Then he cocked his head to the side, as if listening.

Kyara opened her mind’s eye, sensing the Nethersong of everyone inside the warehouse. The nabbers she could sense clearly, as well as the older children, but the younger ones were far more difficult. She could still not get a good count of them due to their weak Nether swirling together. Since when did nabbers start taking children that young?

The nabbers were moving around inside; one approached the door. Either the Keeper before her had his Song, or exceptionally good hearing, as his body suddenly went rigid.

“Hurry,” he said, gripping her arm firmly. Kyara held back a wince. She healed quickly, but most of her was still sore from the previous day’s beating. The Keeper frowned and released her. She stood on her own and followed him and Farron to the other side of the covered wagon, where they crouched and hid.

The metal door opened, and a new nabber poked his greasy head out, looking back and forth. Kyara held her breath. The horse she’d bought that morning was tied around the corner, out of his sightline. The nabber sniffed the air. If he picked up the scent of kerosene, he apparently didn’t find it odd. He retreated into the warehouse and slammed the door. With her other sight, she saw his light move deeper into the interior.

“All clear,” she said.

“I know,” the Keeper said, glowering. “Who are you and exactly what do you think you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” She raised an eyebrow and enjoyed watching his expression shift from fury to frustration and back again.

“We can’t talk here.”

Kyara shrugged.

“Come with me,” he said, rising and peering at the still-closed door. He led her the long way around the back of the warehouse until they reached her horse. Farron hadn’t said a word to her yet, but she looked over at him and smiled. He teetered somewhere between confusion and smiling back. The Keeper noticed and whispered something into the teen’s ear that caused him to grimace. Then he ran off into the bush.

The Keeper mounted the horse and motioned for her to get on behind him. He was awfully bossy, this one. She clenched her jaw and complied. It was bad enough having to follow orders from Ydaris and the True Father. She had no desire to add this Keeper to the list, but she reminded herself that this was part of her mission. She had to gain their trust, at least for long enough to discover the Shadowfox’s identity.

Once on the horse, she realized touching him would be necessary if she didn’t want to go flying off. Reluctantly, she wrapped her arms around his middle. When her palms met the firm muscle of his abdomen, her temperature, already high from the desert heat, increased another few degrees.

They rode north for several minutes in silence until an almost imperceptible slope of the land and a cropping of high bushes hid the warehouse from view. The Keeper reined the horse to a stop, and they dismounted.

When he didn’t speak immediately, she found herself once again lost in his features. His eyes were dark and fathomless, and the corners of his mouth naturally turned up, giving even his grimmest expressions a hint of levity. The bottom lip, fuller than the top, had a hypnotic effect on her.

The collar of his tunic was open, and around his neck he wore a thin leather band that disappeared beneath the fabric. Her gaze traveled down a well-muscled chest that piqued her curiosity before snapping back to his face.

Her cheeks heated. She hoped she truly was resistant to Earthsong. Not only did she not want this Keeper to read her attraction to him but he had to believe her lies, as well, and lying to an Earthsinger was normally impossible.

“Who are you?” he asked again, his voice tight.

She forced her gaze to his eyes, also distracting, and then decided to speak exclusively to his nose. “My name is Kyara ul-Krastigar,” she said. A new surname had been necessary. For her story to work, she could not be ul-Lagrimar and give the surname of her father, the king, else she would have to explain how she had escaped the harem. What better choice than the House of Serpents?

“And what are you doing here? Why were you trying to burn down that building? Do you know there are children inside?”

“Of course I know! I wasn’t trying to burn the children. My sister was nabbed a week ago. I suspect she’s inside. I came here seeking to buy her back, but they refused. The fire was just a way to get everyone out in the open so I could see whether or not she’s truly there.”

The cover story was one she’d taken care in coming up with. It was a tale any Keeper of the Promise should be sympathetic to. Although rare, it was sometimes possible to buy back a nabbed child, though most Midcountry folk could never afford the cost.

“That’s a terrible plan,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kyara’s eyes narrowed. “At least I was doing something. You’re a Keeper, I take it?” He didn’t respond, but it was obvious. “And what? Were you going to watch them all day?” She realized she wasn’t doing much to make her sympathetic, but her plan had been good. It was just like a man not to acknowledge it since he hadn’t thought of it himself.

He continued staring at her, frowning. “How is it you still have your Song?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“Your shield. It’s virtually impenetrable.”

Kyara shrugged her shoulders, glad for the years of practice at keeping her face emotionless. “My Song isn’t relevant here. My sister is. Can you at least tell me your name?”

“Darvyn, and you’ve nearly undone quite a lot of work.”

“I didn’t see any work happening. I saw quite a lot of nothing, actually.”

He sighed in frustration, his hand gripping the back of his neck again. The muscles in his forearm tensed, and Kyara looked down. Why was his forearm distracting her? She should only be thinking about one thing: her mission.

Could this Darvyn lead her to the Shadowfox? Was he one of the high-ranking Keepers who knew the identity of the Singer?

She wasn’t really getting anywhere by antagonizing him, but being the sweet and gentle female wasn’t in her nature. “Listen, I’m sorry if I interfered in whatever plan you all are cooking up. I just want to find my sister.” If she could, she would have tried to force some tears out, but Kyara hadn’t cried in years. And even without being able to read her emotions, she suspected Darvyn was too astute to fall for the simpering-woman routine. There was a keen intelligence shining in his eyes, and that was what she’d need to appeal to.

“Perhaps we could work together. Our interests are aligned,” she said.

“Where was your sister taken from?”

He believed her. That was good. “Checkpoint Twelve. I arrived two days after and began tracking the nabbers, searching for a way to get her back.”

“You tracked the nabbers?” His voice was skeptical, and his gaze roamed her up and down. Not in a lecherous way, simply assessing. She could not hide her clothing and boots, well-made but not fancy. She was not ostentatious enough to be a payroller, but she was no hardscrabble Midcountry girl, either.

She stood tall, straightening her back. His gaze dropped to her chest before locking in on her eyes. A wave of satisfaction swept her at the glance he’d tried to hide. The tale she’d practiced fell from her lips. “My father was a courier. We traveled so much that the Collectors never quite caught up to us so I was never called into service. When Papa passed to the World After, he left me his wagon and I took up the trade. But I sold the cart and all but one horse for the money to bribe the nabbers.”

He gave her a look of begrudging respect. She wished that she could truly deserve it, earn it for something she had actually done instead of these lies.

“Why is my plan so terrible?” she asked. “What was your plan?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it and glanced away. He looked even more frustrated than before, if possible, as if he were about to burst out of his skin. Finally, he shook his head and chuckled. “Have you ever thought about becoming a Keeper? You’d make a good one.”

She snorted. “You all are a bunch of dreamers. You may save a few here and there, letting some grow up with their Songs, but in the end, the True Father will always win.”

His amusement faded. “If you think that, why try to save your sister at all?”

Her shoulders slumped. She’d forgotten herself for a moment, giving him a little too much truth. Foolish or not, this particular Keeper seemed kind. Good-hearted. He spent his life helping, not hurting people. She could admit her jealousy to herself, though she had no time to spend wallowing in it.

“Listen, we can work together or not, but unless you have something better to offer than what I’ve planned, I’m going back to get my sister.” She turned back to the horse, but his voice stopped her.

“You said they wouldn’t take your money? Why not?”

Kyara turned around and shrugged. “It seemed like they were waiting for something. Like they had a quota to fill. I can’t imagine they’ll be paid more per child than what I offered, but…”

That was the truth. The nabber she’d spoken to had seemed fairly antsy.

Darvyn gave her another assessing glance before stepping toward the horse. “I think we can work together on this, but I’m not the one in charge.”

“Who is?” Kyara’s pulse quickened. Surely the Shadowfox would be the one in charge.

“I’ll take you to him.” He climbed back on the horse. Kyara swallowed, the anticipation of touching him again thrumming through her veins. She mounted and settled behind him, once more feeling her heartbeat speed as she wrapped her arms around his firm body. They headed off into the bush with Kyara trying and failing to keep her mind only on her mission.

---

Darvyn sagged with relief when they finally got off the horse. Kyara’s hands, once on him, hadn’t moved, but he’d had a visceral reaction to her closeness and her touch. Her scent had assaulted him during the entire short ride, too. An intoxicating, gentle fragrance that reminded him of sandalwood. His mind filled with thoughts he couldn’t stop but could not afford to have.

His reaction to her was overwhelming. There were female Keepers with whom he worked all the time. Attractive women, capable women, but none had ever affected him as Kyara did. Her spirit and self-assurance drew him to her, but something he couldn’t define had hooked him.

He tied her horse with the others they’d left at their rendezvous point a kilometer south of the warehouse. They’d have to walk the rest of the way back to where Aggar and his team were positioned, monitoring the southern side of the building.

It was an hour until sunset, and the temperature was rapidly dropping. As he drew nearer to the rest of the team, Kyara close behind, Darvyn could feel Aggar’s anger pulsing. The man had witnessed Kyara’s “plan” from afar and would not be happy at having a stranger brought into the midst of their operation.

Distrust and wariness radiated from the two other Keepers of Aggar’s watch group, Navar and Lizana, but those emotions were dwarfed by Aggar’s own silent rage. It pounded against Darvyn’s Song, nearly drowning everything else out.

The team leader marched forward to meet them, staying out of hearing range of the others. He rounded on the two of them, and Darvyn felt a small surge of respect when he saw Kyara square her shoulders out of the corner of his eye.

Aggar was nowhere near as physically menacing as Zango, but he had risen through the ranks of the Keepers due to stubbornness and determination. He and Darvyn were the same height, but Aggar was built more like a barrel where Darvyn was lean. The man shifted his weight in a way that seemed orchestrated to appear more forbidding. The permanent scowl etched on his face helped his cause.

“What is this?” he asked, not looking at Kyara or acknowledging her in any way.

“Her sister was nabbed. She believes the girl is inside.”

Aggar let out a grunt that was more like a growl and spat into the dirt. “And?”

Darvyn’s jaw tensed. “And we could work together to get those children out.”

Finally, his eyes moved over to Kyara. “What makes you think we need any help from a civilian?”

She didn’t shrink back, instead took a step forward and cracked her knuckles. A woman had to be made of tough stuff to drive the Great Highway for a living. There were unscrupulous toll takers, as well as the sackers and bush wranglers just waiting to steal any merchandise that came their way. Most couriers were former soldiers and traveled armed to the teeth. Kyara couldn’t be a soldier, but she obviously knew how to handle herself if she’d survived for any length of time in her profession. It was also obvious that Aggar wasn’t intimidating her in the least.

“It’s nearly sunset. I’ll wager you’ve been here all day and done nothing.” Her voice was low and mean. “Do you think if you watch it long enough, the building will magically disintegrate around them? I’m pretty sure you can’t do that with your precious Song.”

She’d called them fools for opposing the immortal king, but antagonizing Aggar was not the wisest choice. Still, Darvyn enjoyed the steam pouring from the man’s ears in response to her.

“Not all of us have Songs,” Aggar growled, bitterness dripping from his voice. “And you are not welcome here. We do not need your help. Ride back to wherever you came from while you still can.”

“Or what?” She took another step closer, a slightly deranged smile spreading across her lips. “I’m not leaving until I see if my sister is in that building, and I’m going to do what I need to do, unless you have a better alternative.”

Aggar’s jaw worked as his fury rose. “You are not one of us. We don’t know who you are.”

She stepped forward until she was mere inches away from him. “I am Kyara. And I am going to get every child out of that building while you all sit out here pissing in the dust.”

Aggar’s arm reached out, whether to grab her or strike her, Darvyn wasn’t sure. Darvyn flooded himself with Earthsong, ready to ensure that Kyara would not be harmed by Aggar’s thoughtless anger, but she darted away, sprinting across the bush toward the warehouse.

The shock of her action momentarily paralyzed Darvyn before Aggar’s roar of outrage propelled him into action. She was fast and reached the warehouse well before he did. A lit match appeared in her hands. It looked as though she was going through with her original plan.

“Stop her!” Aggar bellowed from behind Darvyn. He felt obligated to comply. He didn’t believe she’d thought through the risks a fire could pose, so he sang a strong wind to blow out the flame. Kyara struck another match; again Darvyn killed it. She shot an aggravated look over her shoulder and huffed out a breath as he reached her side.

None of the nabbers seemed to have heard the noise as no one inside was making any move to approach the door. Kyara had a faraway look in her eye that made him wonder if she was sensing the same thing he was. She must be. How strong was her Song?

She darted around him and went straight for the front door.

“What are you doing?” he whispered as Aggar reached them. The footsteps of the other Keepers, abandoning their hiding places, were coming up fast behind.

When Kyara wrenched open the door, they all froze. She shot Darvyn a hard glare. “Get the wagons ready,” was all she said before disappearing inside.

He sensed Farron and Zango come up on either side of him, yet he couldn’t pull his attention away from the doorway.

“Do as she says,” he told them before following her into the warehouse.