Sūnder (Darksoul Book 1) Page 19

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  The River Walk was a resort on the outskirts of the city, the buildings constructed to resemble a medieval castle, complete with a drawbridge and parapets. Although true castles probably weren’t anywhere near the size of the one towering over him now. A valet collected the fob for his hovercraft. The noise of the crowd could be heard from the drive, and he placed filters over his earholes to prevent them ringing the whole time he was inside.

  When he checked in, several human hosts greeted him tentatively, which was more relaxed than they’d been at the first gala he’d attended. Having arrived just after lunch, and an hour earlier than he was scheduled to meet Tālia, Akirá allowed himself to be distracted by the opulence, the art, and the displays of armor of kings and queens long dead. As he walked through various rooms, he surreptitiously watched the crowd, noting people he’d seen at other galas.

  Standing on the periphery of the largest room, Akirá ignored his rising disappointment that he hadn’t seen—

  “I wondered if you’d come.”

  Akirá turned, already grinning. “Hello, Ronan. It’s good to see you again.” He glanced down Ronan’s form, admiring the cut of the suit he wore, black with yellow pinstripes and a matching yellow bow tie.

  Ronan’s smile was mischievous. “I was beginning to think I’d have to suffer through the afternoon alone.” He handed Akirá a flute of sparkling water—intoxicating beverages weren’t allowed at the official Festival events.

  “I told you, Ronan, that you have to be bold and ignore the other humans if you’re interested in any of the candidates.” Akirá inhaled, parsing scents until he found Ronan’s. Delicious.

  “Oh, I can be bold.” He took a sip from his glass, his warm, dark eyes trained on Akirá. He sucked in a breath as Ronan’s gaze heated. Was Ronan flirting? With him? “Perhaps I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  Stunned, Akirá gulped his water, the carbonation tickling the back of his throat and almost making him sneeze.

  “Why don’t you have a mate, Akirá?” Ronan’s gaze raked Akirá’s body, intense and suggestive.

  Why did Ronan have to exercise boldness now? The way Ronan gazed at him caused Akirá’s belly to tighten in anticipation, making him want to draw Ronan into a secluded room and confess all. What a foolish notion when he was in the middle of one of the most important missions of the century!

  When he didn’t answer right away, Ronan arched an eyebrow.

  Akirá grimaced. But Ronan wasn’t asking about his occupation. Perhaps he could reveal a little about himself. “I had a mate, once. He left me two seasons ago.”

  Ronan’s dark eyes softened, turning liquid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  Akirá stared into the bottom of his empty glass. Did he dare hope Ronan wanted more? He hadn’t meant to search for a mate, but he’d been attracted to Ronan from the first time he’d laid eyes on the man. And it seemed Ronan returned the interest, if the bursts of arousal Akirá scented were for him and not another. Would Ronan be happy to wait until after Akirá finished his assignment to see if there could be something more between them? This would be his last mission… What did he have to lose?

  “My… former mate wanted the prestige of my position. As my spouse, he thought he had the right to control me, even have a say in which cases I took for the temple. Yet he left because he despised what I did.”

  “That doesn’t sound logical. If he knew what you did for a living beforehand, I don’t understand. Why would he want to be your mate if he hated your job?”

  Akirá finally gathered the courage to glance up from his glass. Ronan looked as if he was working through a puzzle. He wanted to smooth the hard V between Ronan’s brows… until he caught sight of Ronan’s pink tongue sliding over his bottom lip. Akirá fought the urge to run his thumb across the glistening trail left behind. If he could just have a taste…

  “What you said, you go on missions from a temple? Are you talking about the Temple of the Stars in the heart of the Faelÿn territory of Alglistán? The only people I know of who are associated with the temple are—” Ronan stepped closer, and Akirá had the sudden urge to bury his nose in the side of Ronan’s neck. He held still as Ronan scrutinized him, his dress, his badges. Ronan’s gaze fell upon Akirá’s armband, and he reached up to trace the starburst engraved there. Then he took in the embroidery on Akirá’s robe, and the pommel of Akirá’s sword. Ronan’s scent suddenly changed from curiosity to something akin to agitation.

  “Holy shit, the symbols have been in front of me all this time and I couldn’t look past my—”

  Akirá studied Ronan, unease crawling over his skin. “Do you know what I am?” How was that possible? Ronan was human, and Faelÿns shielded their temple from outsiders. There were no pamphlets for Ronan to read, no books to research.

  With a nervousness Akirá didn’t like, Ronan moved further away. “Not here. There are too many ears.”

  Unexpectedly, Ronan spun and followed the wall to the nearest exit leading out to the patio. Sun and stars, Akirá didn’t have time for complications right now; he had to meet with Tālia soon. But he couldn’t leave Ronan in such obvious distress. He followed, and once outside, glanced around for Ronan, catching sight of him at the far end, away from everyone else.

  Cautious, Akirá approached, not sure what had caused Ronan’s behavior to change.

  “Am I right? Your temple is the Temple of the Stars?” His expression was blank, giving away nothing.

  A group of people came out of the double doors, and Ronan snagged Akirá’s hand, drawing him closer until he was flush against Ronan, giving people the impression of an intimate conversation. Although Akirá didn’t think he had to be that near to speak confidentially with Ronan, he didn’t pull away. This close he could smell Ronan, only Ronan, and see how smooth Ronan’s skin was, hear the quick beat of Ronan’s heart. If he wasn’t careful, Ronan would drive him to distraction.

  “Yes,” Akirá breathed out. “I am of the Temple of the Stars. I have been since I came of age many years ago.”

  “I’m so stupid. I should’ve seen it all along.” Excitement bled into Ronan’s voice.

  Akirá couldn’t help himself; to be this close to Ronan… He needed to touch. He ran the back of his knuckles over Ronan’s dark cheek. He’d never felt anything so fine. Was all of Ronan’s skin just as smooth?

  “You are a paladin.” Ronan leaned into his caress.

  “Is that what has you flustered? Yes, I am the Holy Paladin, right hand to the Speaker of the Stars. Does who I am scare you?”

  Ronan swallowed, his dark eyes steady on Akirá’s. “No.”

  Awash in Ronan’s pheromones, which spoke of a yearning want, Akirá put space between them, not understanding why Ronan was suddenly aroused. Had his touch elicited the response, or something else? Unless… Akirá took another step back, his blood running cold.

  “Why are you moving away? Where are you going?” Ronan grabbed Akirá’s forearms tightly.

  “How do you know of the Temple of the Stars? It isn’t common knowledge outside the Shattered Lands.” Much less among humans. Grains! He should’ve asked the questions first rather than allowing his fondness for Ronan to distract him. Did he work for someone who guessed at Akirá’s mission? The thought caused his heart to plummet. Surely he couldn’t have been that poor a judge of character. Nevertheless, Ronan’s arousal didn’t make sense. Humans weren’t a species who could control their pheromones, so what wasn’t he seeing?

  “I looked it up once. I’m fascinated by a belief system based on what amounts to an oracle’s sight. It reminded me of Greek history and their Oracles of Delphi.” Ronan’s bottom eyelid twitched, and Akirá had a feeling that Ronan wasn’t telling him everything.

  Akirá scented Ronan and could smell no deception: the man withheld information, but hadn’t lied. Where had Ronan found the information? Did the Speaker know? Could Ronan’s arousal be connected to whatever story he’d read and not be
cause of Akirá himself? “We should talk about where you acquired your information. I have already been involved with someone more fascinated with—”

  Ronan squeezed his arm, excitement etched in every line of Ronan’s face. “No, you misunderstand. Let me explain. Do you know what a green—”

  Someone cleared their throat, and Akirá looked around to see who’d interrupted his conversation. An L’fÿn stood a discreet distance away, staring directly at them. He’d been so caught up with Ronan that he’d let his guard down enough for someone to approach them without his notice.

  The L’fÿn bowed perfunctually. “Master Akirá Kaukèx, you have been summoned by the Keeper.”

  Akirá growled in frustration. Of all the times, Tālia had to pick now? “One moment, please.”

  Turning back to Ronan, he stepped closer, putting his arms around Ronan and drawing him near so he could speak without the L’fÿn overhearing. “Unfortunately, I have a previously scheduled engagement to attend. Grains on the wind, I have no wish to leave in the middle of our discussion, but it cannot be helped. I shall leave my number at the front desk if you wish to explain this misunderstanding, because I hope this is indeed a misunderstanding. I like you very much, and although things are rather complicated at the moment, I want to see you, explore this connection I feel between us, if you’re amenable.”

  Akirá gave into the temptation to nuzzle Ronan’s chin, discreetly slipping one of his temple badges into Ronan’s pocket. If Ronan didn’t wish to take the budding romantic relationship between them further, it would enable Akirá to check on him before Akirá left Earth, ensure Ronan was actually safe and not embroiled in some affair with an opponent of the temple.

  “Until we meet again.” Quickly, before emotions outweighed reason, he turned and walked away.

  The L’fÿn looked past Akirá with a leer that dropped when Akirá released a low rumble of warning. He followed the L’fÿn to the balcony doorway and stopped, tempted to look back and take in Ronan’s countenance. But he couldn’t. He wanted to remember the adoring expression Ronan had worn when Akirá nuzzled him. If Ronan stared at him with anything other than that soft look, he’d rather not know.

  His pause had lasted long enough that the L’fÿn had already crossed the crowded room. Ronan had Akirá’s thoughts muddled and emotions haywire. This was why he should have waited, kept Ronan at a distance. Akirá slapped his hand against the doorframe and stopped dragging his feet. He needed to get his focus back on the mission, especially when dealing with Tālia of Nellá. If he wasn’t extremely careful, distraction could cause him to fail, possibly even get him killed.

  Using thirst as an excuse to delay, he grabbed a flute of sparkling water, utilizing the brief moment’s respite to enter the right frame of mind. By the time he joined the L’fÿn in the main hall, he’d put thoughts of Ronan and delicious possibilities behind him.

  Akirá mentally reviewed the short list he kept of what Tālia would possibly need of him. After yesterday’s events, and the darkhunters’ failure, he surmised her request would have something to do with Sūnder.

  As the messenger led him through the bowels of the castle, Akirá presented the impression of a tourist gawking at the displays. In reality, he was noting exits and L’fÿns who were curiously alone. If they were here for the gala they would be mingling, not looking like the hired muscle they probably were. Akirá had memorized the floor plan for River Walk the night prior, but it helped to know which areas were more heavily guarded.

  Led up a winding staircase and down a short hallway, Akirá was finally ushered into a room with two rather large L’fÿns standing guard at the door. From what he remembered, the room was typically used for small dinner parties. When he entered he was surprised, not by the number of occupants, but by who the occupants were.

  As regal as ever, and notably without the Keeper’s seal visible on her person, Tālia of Nellá stood before a cold fireplace eyeing the mantle’s adornments. Unsurprisingly, there were also a dozen or more L’fÿn guards in uniform dress. No, what took him aback were the three faeborn males huddled together in a seating arrangement in the far corner.

  “Thank you for coming, Master Akirá,” Tālia said without glancing away from the figurines she was studying.

  “I am glad to be of service,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. A sick feeling told him that he wouldn’t like the direction this meeting would go.

  “Do you have a secure abode, a place free of prying eyes?” she asked lightly, using a tone more suited to idle conversation than the probing it was.

  Akirá frowned. “It can be acquired. Will I have need of one today?”

  Tālia glanced at the three faeborn, and then at Akirá. That would be a yes, then.

  Someone knocked briskly on the door before it burst open and two bulky L’fÿns frog-walked Ronan—Ronan!—into the room, his arm wrenched painfully up behind his back. Akirá froze, his mind going blank at the blood trickling from the corner of Ronan’s mouth.

  “Madam Tālia, we found this person attempting to follow Master Akirá,” one of the guards explained.

  “And you thought it would be a good idea to bring him here?” she snapped.

  “He wouldn’t explain his interest, and persisted. We thought it best to get him out of the public areas before someone noticed the confrontation.”

  Akirá growled, crossed the space to Ronan, and in two precise moves flattened the L’fÿns restraining him. Grabbing Ronan’s uninjured arm, he pulled Ronan behind him, out of reach of the L’fÿns on the ground. The guards who’d been reclining near the faeborn belatedly rose to their feet. Akirá hissed at them.

  “He’s mine,” he announced. Any and all who attempted to approach Ronan would suffer more than being tossed to the floor.

  The guards glanced at Tālia for direction, and she held up her hand in a gesture that halted their progress, her imperious gaze on Akirá. “What is the meaning of this? I didn’t tell you to bring anyone else along.”

  Akirá lifted his lip, baring a fang warningly. “You don’t tell me how to operate, or who to have on my team.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe this human works for you?” The disdain in her voice was clear.

  “It matters not what you believe. He works at the Chándariān hospital. As I was unaware what you will require of me, and might need specialized medical assistance, I retained his services.”

  The heat of Ronan’s body warmed Akirá’s back, calming his ruffled fur. Fingers slipped along Akirá’s belt near his sword. He squeezed Ronan’s arm reassuringly, then let him go. Shifting his weight, he moved until he felt Ronan’s fingers brush the belt knife strapped to his back under his meklā. He held his breath as he glared at Tālia, hoping Ronan would understand his offer. When Ronan practically plastered himself against Akirá and his belt tugged, he gave a huff of relief.

  Reassured that Ronan had a weapon to protect himself, and hoping Ronan at least knew how, Akirá focused all his attention on Tālia and her guards.

  “Then it is fortuitous for the faeborn that you did. They’ll have need of his services.” The distrust didn’t leave her expression. “You won’t mind me running his credentials?”

  If Akirá said yes, they would have to fight their way out of the hotel. He had an estimate of how many guards Tālia had with her, but considering the maze the River Walk made, the number could easily be triple that. No matter who he was, Akirá wasn’t so accomplished a fighter that he could take on so many and survive. If he only had to watch out for himself, there would be a chance, but Ronan and the beaten-down faeborn would need to be defended, reducing his options.

  Ronan stepped from behind Akirá, straightening his suit jacket as if this was all just an annoyance. “Do you have a palm scanner?”

  One of the guards who had escorted Ronan stuck his head out the doorway and returned with a device, which Ronan placed his hand upon. Akirá wanted to grab Ronan and drag him back to his side, but if Ronan was supposed to b
e working for him, he couldn’t act in such a proprietary manner. Oddly enough, Ronan appeared calm, as if clandestine meetings were something he was accustomed to, and he hadn’t protested when Akirá claimed him as an employee. No mere hospital nurse would hold up so well.

  Something niggled at the back of Akirá’s mind. What had Ronan said earlier about the misunderstanding? He’d asked if Akirá knew of green… something. Green what? Frustratingly, Akirá was sure he was missing an important clue to the puzzle, yet didn’t have the luxury to pursue it at the moment.

  Once Tālia had confirmed Ronan’s identity she snapped her fingers, and a leather case was set on a nearby table. She withdrew a brown glass vial and one of the guards brought over a large potted ficus. Removing the stopper, she approached the plant.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Akirá watched Ronan move around to the other side of him, keeping Akirá between him and most of the L’fÿns. Out of his pocket, Ronan withdrew a data pad and a pair of eyeglasses, the lenses the same shade of yellow as his bowtie. It appeared as if Ronan only juggled his data pad from one hand to the other, yet Akirá noticed the device indicated it was recording before the screen went blank, and that Ronan’s sleight of hand moved Akirá’s dagger from Ronan’s pocket to up his sleeve. There were more layers to Ronan than Akirá had suspected, but whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. Ronan moved to stand beside Akirá and grasped his forearm.

  The faeborn whimpered as Tālia poured a viscous, white fluid into the pot. The plant drooped before their eyes, the tips of the leaves turning from a vibrant, healthy green to a sickly brown that would usually take days to occur.

  “Bring them.” At Tālia’s command, each faeborn was grabbed and hauled to their feet by two guards.