Refuge (Relentless Book 2)
Refuge: Chapter 4

“DO YOU KNOW what this is about?” I asked Olivia, walking beside her around the back of the main building. When we’d arrived at the training wing a few minutes ago, we found a notice telling all trainees to head to the arena. I’d never seen anything here resembling an arena, and I was starting to wonder if this was some kind of joke on the new girl.

Olivia pointed to the left of the menagerie at a square stone building about as big as a small church, with a domed roof like the one on the menagerie. Tall thin windows covered by iron bars shaped like leafy vines lined the side facing us, and I could see an arched doorway framed with the same decoration. Standing in front of the building were the other trainees, Sahir, and the woman who had come into the training room with Tristan several days ago. Everyone but me seemed to know her, and it was obvious from the infatuated stares from the boys that she was very popular among them.

“Who is that?” I asked Olivia, who made a face.

“That’s Celine. She lives in Italy, but she comes here three or four times a year. God, I hope she’s not training us.”

We reached the group before I could ask her what she meant. Celine stopped talking to the assembled trainees when we arrived, and I was taken aback when her frosty green gaze settled on me. “Now that everyone has decided to show up, we’ll get started, shall we?” Her attention shifted back to the others. “Today we are going to add a little practical training, so I hope you studied hard in school.”

An excited murmur rippled through the other trainees, and Sahir stepped forward, his dark eyes sparkling. “Before your imaginations run away with you, you are not going to be facing a vampire or anything that dangerous.”

Celine walked to a cloth-covered cage I had not noticed. “We are going to start you on something less life-threatening.” She pulled the cloth back to reveal a brown rat-like creature the size of a pug with large curved incisors and clawed feet huddled inside the cage. Unlike a rat, it had a short stump of a tail and yellow eyes.

“This is a bazerat, for those of you who are not familiar with them,” Sahir said. “They are found mostly in the Amazon where they live off snakes and birds. They have been known to attack humans if provoked. They are sometimes bred in captivity, and they can be quite dangerous in the wrong hands. One bazerat is not much to look at, a couple of them are a nuisance, but a pack of them is like a school of piranha when they pick up the scent of blood. I have seen a pack of thirty or so bazerats kill and consume a twenty-five foot anaconda in less than an hour.”

Celine smiled as her eyes moved over our group. “Fortunately for you, you will not have to face a whole pack today. You each have to face only a pair of bazerats, a task I’m sure most of you will have no trouble completing.” I couldn’t help but notice that she was looking at me when she said the last part and her smile had become more of a sneer.

“Oooh, someone doesn’t like you,” whispered Jordan close to my ear. I started to ask her what she meant, but Celine spoke again.

“Here is how we’ll do this. One by one you will enter the arena where we will release two bazerats. Your task is to neutralize them. Before you go in, select your weapon of choice from the pile by the door, but remember bazerats are fast, so choose wisely.”

The group of trainees surged forward to replace weapons, and I was left standing alone in front of Celine. “You want us to kill them?” I looked from Celine to Sahir, and they both nodded. “Why?”

“Why?” Celine repeated as if she couldn’t understand the question. “Because they are vermin and they would not hesitate to kill you.”

“But they only kill when they are hunting for food or when they feel threatened, right? They are no danger to anyone now.” I pointed at the bazerat in the cage. “That creature is terrified of us.”

Celine arched a perfect eyebrow. “Would you rather we had you face the entire pack to make it feel more dangerous to you? This is how we train. Think of it as a sport.”

My nostrils flared, and I shook my head. “I don’t kill for sport.”

The other trainees had joined us again, holding their weapons, and they quieted when they heard my declaration.

Celine’s lip curled. “How do you expect to be a warrior if you can’t kill? Do you think vampires will cut you a break because you won’t kill them?”

“I have no problem killing in self-defense. I’ve already killed two vampires.” I ignored the whispers around me. “But these creatures are not vampires. They’re not even malicious.”

“You’ll change your tune when you face a couple of them with no bars between you. In fact . . . ” She put a manicured finger to her chin. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Fine by me.” I saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Did she expect me to refuse, to run away? I started for the door of the building, but stopped when someone grabbed my arm.

Terrence pushed a knife into my hand. “Don’t be stupid,” he said when I tried to refuse it. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t need to, but don’t go in there without some protection.”

Nodding, I gave him a small smile and took the knife, immediately noticing that it felt different in my hand than the one Nikolas had given me. This one was larger and heavier, and the blade had a jagged edge instead of a smooth one. I held it flat against my thigh as I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The door shut behind me with a loud click, and I found myself in a short hallway that opened into a large room. It was much darker inside the building and the only light came from the windows, but it was enough for me to make out the bleacher-style seats on three sides of the room and the polished wooden floor beneath my feet. The floor in the middle of the room was roughly thirty feet long and wide, and in the very center sat two empty crates.

“Great,” I muttered, scanning the room for the bazerats. It was difficult to see anything in the deep shadows beneath the seats, so I stood still listening for movement. All I could hear was my own breathing. There was a shuffling sound as something moved beneath the seats to my left. I looked that way, but it was impossible to distinguish between shadows and the dark shapes of the bazerats.

From the other side of the room came the scratch of claws on wood, and I caught a glimpse of two glowing yellow eyes beneath a seat. How the hell did he get over there so fast?

I jumped when I heard a sound on my right again, and I whipped my head around in time to see a second pair of eyes peering out of the shadows. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as my heart sped up.

I clenched the knife in my fist, glad now that I had taken it from Terrence, and walked slowly toward the center of the room where the crates sat. There was nothing to be afraid of. If they attacked, there were only two of them and I had a very sharp blade. I would just rather not kill something if I could avoid it.

Hell, maybe I wouldn’t even need to use the knife. I’d used my power to calm a crazed werewolf and two hellhounds, so surely it would work on these little creatures. I hoped so, because if I had to rely on my fighting skills, I might as well serve myself up to them on a platter.

That’s not true, a little voice inside me argued. You fought off a crocotta and killed Eli. You are not weak or helpless.

I stood up straighter. For some reason, Celine didn’t like me, and she was out there waiting for me to fail. But I wasn’t weak, and I certainly wasn’t a coward. She wanted these things neutralized, and that is exactly what she was going to get.

“All right, guys, I really don’t want to hurt you and I know you’d probably rather be in home in the jungle, but none of us can change that right now. So what do you say we make a truce so we can all get out of here?”

The bazerat to my left gave a low hiss that did not sound friendly.

“Okay, so no truce. Suit yourself.” I walked slowly toward the hissing as I released my power into the air around me. When I was three feet from the seats, I stopped. My plan, if it worked, was to draw the creature to me. It was certainly preferable to going under those seats after it.

A loud thumping made me jump, and my heart leapt in my throat before I realized it was someone banging on the door.

“Are you taking a nap in there or what?” Celine called, and I could hear the laugher in her voice. “If you need some help, just let us know.”

“No thanks. I’m doing great,” I called back, wishing it was true. I peered under the seats and thought I saw a patch of darkness that might be the bazerat, but I couldn’t be sure. I bet the others will have no problem seeing in here. Callum kept telling me that my vision and hearing would be enhanced if I learned to use my Mori’s power.

“Hey there, little guy. Why don’t you stop all that noise and come out here so we can become friends?” I sent a wave of power toward the spot where I believed the creature was. “I know you’re scared of people after they put you in a cage and I don’t blame you for being upset, but I won’t hurt you.” If you don’t hurt me.

Something shuffled under the seats, and I was about to smile when I realized that instead of approaching me, the bazerat was moving away from me. I frowned. When had a creature ever run from my power? I didn’t know anything about bazerats except for what Celine had told us, but they looked like large rodents and I knew for sure that my power worked on rats.

I moved forward until my hand was touching the seats. Then I bent and strained to see through the darkness. It looked like I was going to have to go in after it. Wonderful. Not so long ago, I had stood up to my chest in freezing sea water facing a pack of possessed wharf rats. I’d rather go back and do that all over again than go under these seats. If I could get close enough to touch the bazerat, I should be able to calm him – if he didn’t try to eat me first. I just hoped the other one kept his distance until I worked my magic on his brother.

The world sounded hollow under the seats, and every move I made seemed to resonate in my ears, though I was going as quietly as possible. It wasn’t as dark as I thought now that I was down here and my eyes were getting used to the gloom. Light from the windows made its way between the seats to create lighter patches, and I tried to stick to them as much as possible. Unfortunately, the bazerat kept away from them, which meant I was going to have to leave them as well.

All right, where the heck are you? I stopped and listened, but the room was silent. Taking two more steps, I stopped again and stared ahead of me at the dark shape huddled a few feet away. It wasn’t running away so at least that was something. Now if it would only stay still . . .

A thump followed by the sounds of scurrying on the other side of the room made me whirl around, fearful of an attack from that direction. My head knocked against the bottom of a seat, and I stumbled before I tripped over my own feet and fell forward. I landed on my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and sending the knife skidding across the floor. Letting out a moan, I looked up into the furry face of the bazerat standing less than a foot away. Before I could move, its mouth opened impossibly wide, like it was on hinges, and I got a close-up look at the rows of sharp teeth inside.

“Oh shit!” I squealed as it leapt at my face.

My arms came up to protect my head, and one of the long incisors scraped my palm, leaving a shallow cut that burned like the devil. There was no time to worry what kind of venom the bazerat might have because I was too preoccupied with wrapping my hands around its neck to hold it away from my face.

As soon as I touched it, the bazerat began to twist and screech, trying to get away from me. The only time a creature had reacted to my power like this was when I had encountered a rat possessed by a Hale witch. But I could sense no foreign presence in this creature. The bazerat was truly afraid of me, and I didn’t know what to do.

I felt it then, the strange prickly static sliding over my skin. The bazerat went nuts, clawing at my arms, which were protected for the most part by my sleeves, and struggling so violently to break free of my grasp that I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. I began to pull my power back inside me, hoping that would calm the bazerat. I thought it was working until a small surge of electricity shot from my hands and right into the creature. The bazerat went stiff for a few seconds then collapsed limply in my hands.

“What the hell?” I sat up, holding the unconscious creature. I knew it was still alive because I could feel a pulse, slow and steady beneath my fingers. How long it would remain knocked out was another matter. I freed one hand to fumble around for the knife, and once I found it, I staggered to my feet. There was no telling where the other bazerat was, and I’d rather get this one locked safely in his crate before his brother decided to come looking for him.

I released a sigh of relief when I slid the lock into place on the crate holding the unconscious bazerat. “One down, one to go.” I felt a lot more confident now that I only had one left to contend with.

The second bazerat proved to be a lot more slippery than the first one, and he led me on a crazy chase before I finally managed to corner him. He wasn’t nearly as brave without his brother, but he still hissed and bared his teeth menacingly at me whenever I got close. He freaked when I dived, got my hands around him, and gave him a taste of my power. Once again the weird static electricity surged through me, and I had to fight to keep it from zapping the life right out of the creature. I wanted to capture him, not kill him. Still, it knocked him out cold and I was able to tuck him safely in his crate. I stood back and surveyed the two sleeping bazerats that looked so harmless now. But I knew better. I shuddered as I headed for the door. I hoped I never ran into a whole pack of those things.

“Well, I’m happy to see you are still in one piece,” grated Celine when I emerged from the building, and I couldn’t help but notice that her expression did not match her words.

Except for a few scratches, I was unharmed, and I felt pretty proud of myself for finishing the task. “Piece of cake,” I said, moving past her.

“Wait,” she barked, and I stopped walking as she opened the door and went into the building. In less than a minute she was back with a scowl on her face. “You’re not done. Get back in there and finish them off.”

“They are back in their cages where they can’t hurt anyone. There is no need to kill them.”

Celine took a step toward me, towering over me by at least six inches. “The task was to kill them. So kill them or you fail.”

“The task was to neutralize them, and they are neutralized. If I have to kill senselessly to pass your test, then you can go ahead and fail me.” I tossed the knife on the ground between us and walked over to stand by Michael, who was gawking at me like I’d just sprouted another head. I half expected Celine to come after me, but she had apparently decided to let it drop and was already looking for another trainee to enter the building. First, they had to get another pair of bazerats since mine were out cold. I hid my smile of satisfaction.

“Well, well, the kitten has claws after all,” drawled Jordan, who walked over with Olivia to join us.

“What the heck did you do in there, Sara?” Michael wanted to know, forgetting his shyness for once.

“I caught them and put them back in their cages.” I conveniently omitted the part where electricity had shot from my fingertips.

Terrence laughed. “Why go through all the trouble when it’s easier to kill them?”

I met his mocking gaze and shrugged. “Anyone can kill. Taking them alive is a lot more of a challenge, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, but I could see it in his eyes; the gauntlet had been thrown. “I’ll go next,” he called to Celine before he stalked off.

I watched Celine talking to Terrence. Of course, she looked quite pleasant now that she was talking to someone besides me. If Celine had been human, I might have blamed her attitude toward me on a natural female aversion to undines. But she was Mohiri, so she was supposed to be immune to that. “What is her problem anyway?” I muttered to no one in particular.

“You.”

I frowned at Jordan. “Me? I just met her twenty minutes ago.”

“She’s jealous of you,” Olivia said in a voice that wouldn’t carry to the trainer. “Supposedly, she and Nikolas Danshov go way back and she’s still got it bad for him.”

I pictured Nikolas with cold, beautiful Celine and something hardened in my gut. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Let me see.” Jordan tapped a finger against her lips. “Could it have something to do with how much time Nikolas spent in Maine protecting a certain pretty little orphan?”

“What? No, it wasn’t . . . You don’t understand.” I felt a blush creeping up my neck. “It wasn’t like that. We don’t even get along.”

Jordan smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“No, really. He was just doing his job. I didn’t want him around any more than he wanted to be there.”

Jordan and Olivia laughed, and it was Olivia who spoke first. “Nikolas is one of the best warriors on the planet, and his job does not include babysitting orphans.”

I looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand. He found me, killed the bad guys, and brought me here. Isn’t that what warriors do?”

It was Michael who answered. “Some warriors do, but you’re the first orphan Nikolas has ever brought in.”

Jordan and Olivia watched me closely while I digested that piece if information. Nikolas had never brought in anyone before me? Well, that certainly explained his lack of patience; he obviously had no experience with orphans. Whatever his reason for doing it, I knew for certain it was not because of any romantic feelings he might have for me as the girls implied. It was more likely his male ego; I’d challenged him and he couldn’t handle it. “I know what you’re insinuating but trust me, there is nothing going on between me and Nikolas.”

Jordan let out a short laugh. “You are probably the only female in existence who would go out of her way to deny having a thing with him.”

“God what I wouldn’t give . . . ” Olivia fanned herself. “Hot doesn’t begin to describe that man.” She sighed. “Can you imagine what it feels like to have those arms around you?”

There was no way I was going to tell them that I knew what it felt like to be in Nikolas’s arms. But his embrace had been comforting instead of romantic. I could not understand how he had treated me with such kindness one day and then taken off without a good-bye two days later. I admit I’m not the best at reading people, but how could I have been so wrong about him?

“Booyah! Take that!”

The four of us turned to stare at Terrence, who was emerging from the arena looking like he had just gone a few rounds with an angry badger. His hair was sticking out all over the place, his shirt and jeans were shredded in places, and he had a bloody scratch on one cheek. But he was grinning like he had won the lottery. He walked past Celine and Sahir and came up to me, his hazel eyes shining. “Now that was fun.”

I glowered at him. “Yes, I’m sure killing is a real blast.”

“Who said anything about killing? And if you look at the time, I believe I finished faster than you.” He touched his cheek and winced. “Mean little bastards, though.”

“You didn’t kill them?” Josh asked in disbelief.

Terrence chuckled. “Sara is right; anyone can kill them, but it takes a real warrior to take them alive.” It wasn’t exactly what I had said, but I decided not to correct him.

Celine strode over to us, and her gaze raked across mine. “What the hell has gotten into you people?”

Terrence shot me a grin. “Just mixing it up a bit, making it a little more fun.”

“This is not supposed to be fun,” Celine bit out. She pointed at me and Terrence. “You two, you’re done here. Go cause trouble somewhere else.” She spun away from us and yelled, “Is there anyone here who wants to do this thing correctly?”

“Later,” I said to the others, glad to get away from Celine and her killing. I set off toward the main building, and Terrence ran to catch up with me.

“Seriously, that was a blast,” he panted. “Who would ever have thought not killing demons would be fun?”

I came up short. “The bazerats are demons?”

“Of course. What did you think they were?”

“I don’t know – mutant rats?”

He snickered like I’d made a joke. “We covered them in class last year.”

“I wasn’t here last year.” I had learned a lot about the world from Remy, but nothing like the formal education Mohiri kids received. I had years of learning to catch up on.

I resumed walking. The bazerats were demons, and my power made them freak out instead of calming them. Demons fear Fae magic, and it must have hurt them when I touched them. It could also be why my power had reacted to them and zapped them. It still didn’t explain the little flare-ups that were happening every day now. Was my elemental side growing stronger as Aine had hoped it would?

My stomach clenched as a scary thought came to me. I was surrounded by people with demons inside them, and I had no control over whatever was happening to me. What if I hurt someone without meaning to? I was half Fae, half demon, and even the Fae admitted they had no idea what powers I would develop. Nikolas had brought me here to keep me safe, but what if I was the dangerous one?

* * *

I quietly approached the library. It had been three days since my encounter with Desmund, and even though Tristan had encouraged me to come back, I felt a little apprehensive about seeing Desmund again. I didn’t want to upset him and cause some kind of setback, but I had to admit I was more than a little curious about him.

The library door was open, and the room looked much as it had the first time I’d been here. I would have thought the room empty if the slightest rustling of paper behind one of the high backed chairs hadn’t alerted me to the presence of someone else. Instead of announcing myself, I moved silently to the bookcases to return the copy of Jane Eyre I had borrowed. I almost hated to give it up, but I was excited to see what other treasures were waiting on the shelves.

No way! My eyes lit upon a perfectly preserved copy of Daniel Deronda. I slid the book off the shelf and opened the cover to see that it was indeed a first edition. How many people got the opportunity to appreciate classic literature like this? Oh, Dad, what I wouldn’t give for you to be able to see this.

I debated sitting by the fire, but if it was Desmund in the chair – and I had a suspicion it was – he was keeping to himself and I didn’t want to give him a reason to be upset. He was used to having this room to himself, so it was probably best to ease him into the idea of sharing the space. I carried my book to the table near the window where there was a small reading lamp. The chair wasn’t as nice as the ones by the fire, but the book provided a happy diversion.

“Oh, it’s you again.”

I started at the voice a few feet away. He had moved so quietly that I never noticed him approach. He was wearing similar dated clothing to what he’d worn during our last encounter, but I saw that it was clean and pressed. His hair was neater, and I couldn’t help but think he cleaned up well. My eyes went to his face, and I was not surprised to replace a scowl there. Remembering what Tristan had said about Desmund’s bad mood being due to his illness, I ignored his glower and gave him a polite smile. “Hello.”

My friendly greeting seemed to throw him, and he stared at me for a moment before his dark gaze fell on the book in my hands. “You have odd taste in literature for one your age.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I read a lot of different books – whatever appeals to me.” He didn’t respond so I asked, “What do you like to read?”

Desmund lifted his hand, and I saw he was holding Hamlet, which we’d covered in English lit last spring. It was too dark and violent for my taste, and I didn’t think it was good reading material for a man who already seemed slightly unhinged. I kept that observation to myself.

“You don’t like Shakespeare?” His tone was chilly, and I wondered how I had offended him so easily.

“I have trouble understanding the English,” I replied honestly. “I don’t like it when I have to stop and figure out what every word means.”

He turned and walked across the room to a tall cabinet built into the wall. Opening the door, he retrieved a remote control and fiddled with it for a minute before soft strains of classical violin music filled the room. It was not something I’d normally listen to, but it wasn’t unpleasant either.

“You don’t like Vivaldi?”

“I’m not familiar with him.” I assumed Vivaldi was the composer and not a type of music.

He made a scoffing sound. “Not surprising. Young people today have horrid taste in music. What do you call it . . . pop?”

“Just because I don’t know every piece of classical music doesn’t mean I don’t like any of it.” I waved at the bookshelves lining the walls. “I bet you haven’t read every book that’s been published.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, and pray tell me, which of the great composers do you prefer then?”

A week ago, I couldn’t have answered that question. Before I came here, I listened mostly to classic rock, but that was before I discovered the vast selection of classical music in the common rooms. I’d sampled music from different composers and discovered a few I liked. I still couldn’t tell Bach from Brahms, but there was one that stood out for me. “Tchaikovsky.”

“And what is your favorite Tchaikovsky piece?” he asked scornfully as if he didn’t believe me. His attitude annoyed the hell out of me. I obviously didn’t know as much about classical music as he did – hell, he and Mozart could have been buddies for all I knew – but he didn’t have to be such a snob about it.

I reminded myself that he was ill and tempered my response. “I don’t know what it’s called; it’s some kind of waltz. I listened to it a bunch of times in the common room.”

At first I thought he was going to insult me again, but instead he hit a few buttons on his remote and the waltz began to play.

“That’s it!”

The beautiful sweeping melody filled the room for almost a minute before he turned back to me with a bemused expression. “Serenade for Strings in C major. It is one of my favorites as well.”

“Oh no, we actually have something in common? How dreadful.” My tone was teasing, but with him it was impossible to know how he’d take it.

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Tragic indeed,” he retorted, but some of the edge had left his voice. “Well, since you are determined to make yourself at home here, I suppose I should know your name.”

“Sara Grey.”

He gave a shaky but elegant bow. “Desmund Ashworth, seventh Earl of Dorsey.”

“Aha! I knew you were some kind of English lord.” He arched an eyebrow, and I said, “You’ve got aristocrat written all over you.”

He seemed inordinately pleased by my remark, and a smug smile tugged at his lips. For the first time since I’d met him, the wildness left his eyes. “You have good taste in books and music so there is some hope for you,” he stated as if he was appraising my worth. “What else do you like?”

“I draw, but it’s nothing like the art on the walls here. You probably wouldn’t like it.”

“Probably not,” he agreed, and I had the urge to stick out my tongue at him. He could at least pretend to be courteous. “Do you play chess by chance?”

“No. I can play checkers, though.” Roland’s uncle Brendan had taught me to play checkers, and we used to have a game whenever I stayed over at the farm. I’d even beaten Brendan a few times, and that was no easy feat.

He scoffed. “Anyone can play draughts. It requires a much more organized mind to master chess.”

Something told me that Desmund’s mind was about as organized as my closet, but I wisely kept that thought to myself. “It’s been a while since I played, but I think I could give you a run for your money in checkers. Too bad we don’t have a set.”

His eyes lit up, and he spun back to the cabinet where he leaned down and pulled out a dark mahogany box. He carried the box to my table and laid it in front of me, then opened it to reveal a polished checkerboard. Inside the box was another flat box that contained a set of ebony and boxwood checkers. Desmund took the chair across from me and spilled the checkers out onto the board. “Lady’s choice.”

I hesitated for a moment before laying aside my book, even though his eagerness told me he was probably extremely good at either game. I reached for the boxwood pieces and started to line them up on my side of the board.

We were not long into the game before it was evident that Desmund was in a totally different league from Brendan, and I had to concentrate hard to keep up with his moves. I earned a few scowls when I captured three of his pieces, small victories compared to his dominating play. He didn’t gloat as much as I thought he would when he won, but he wasn’t all graciousness either.

“You have some potential, but it will probably take us years to polish you up.”

“Gee thanks,” I replied. “Maybe after a few hundred years, I’ll be as good as you.”

Desmund pursed his lips. “Doubtful, but you will make a decent opponent.”

I shook my head at his cockiness. “How old are you anyway?” The Mohiri didn’t have the same hang-ups about age as humans so I saw nothing wrong in asking.

He paused as if he’d forgotten the answer. “I was born in sixteen thirty-eight.”

Wow. “I can’t imagine living that long. I only found out a few months ago I was Mohiri.”

“Ah, you are that orphan. I knew there was something different about you.”

“That’s me.” I couldn’t help but think that it’s probably not good when someone as eccentric as Desmund thinks you’re different. “I’m not exactly like the other trainees here; they are all such good fighters. I don’t think I’d make a good warrior – or know if I even want to be one.”

He gazed out the darkened window. “‘It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.’” When he looked back at me, he wore a little smile. “Melville. Words to live by.”

I smiled back. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“So, shall we have a rematch?” He deftly rolled one of the ebony pieces between his long fingers.

“Not tonight,” I said with real regret. Desmund was a little unbalanced, but he was also intelligent and interesting and I couldn’t help but like him. I began gathering checkers to put them away. “It’s getting late and I have training in the morning.”

“Another time then?” His question was casual, but he was not able to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes. It struck me that he must be lonely up here, even though he drove everyone away.

My smile widened. “Definitely. I need to practice if I’m ever going to beat you.”

He let out a short laugh, the first since I’d met him. “You have your work cut out for you.” He helped pick up the pieces, placing his in the box and holding it out to me. I reached over to drop mine in and my fingers brushed his hand.

Cold sickness assailed me. My heart fluttered, and my skin felt like there were cold wet things crawling over it. I shuddered and leaned back as sweat broke out on my upper lip and blackness swam before my eyes. Taking a gulp of air, I braced my hand on the edge of the table and fought off the faintness threatening to swallow me.

“Are you unwell?” Desmund’s voice sounded worried, and he reached for me.

“I’m fine!” I managed to stand before he could touch me. If this horrible attack was from a brief touch, I did not want to know what longer contact would do. He seemed oblivious to the real reason for my distress, and I didn’t want to alarm him. I gave him a shaky smile. “I probably shouldn’t have skipped dinner.”

His brow furrowed. “I can have food brought up for you if you wish.”

“Thanks, but I can grab a muffin from the dining hall on my way.” He did not look convinced. “I’m okay, really.”

He stood and followed me to the door. “You still look pale. Are you quite certain you don’t want to sit and rest a little?”

I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m starting to feel better already.” It was partially true; my body was already recovering from the strange illness even though I was still a bit shaken up. “I’ll see you again soon.”

I slipped out of the library and hurried toward the stairs. What the hell was that? The Mohiri had no special powers – unless they were some kind of half breed like me – but I’d definitely sensed something off when I touched him. Was he something more than a Mohiri, or could this have to do with his illness? I needed to ask Tristan about it as soon as I saw him again. If Desmund was dangerous, it wouldn’t be smart to spend time alone with him. It didn’t make sense because Tristan had urged me to get to know Desmund. I found myself hoping I was overreacting, because Tristan had been right; I did like Desmund once I got to know him.