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“We’re at my house in Portshire,” Markaeus exclaimed. “That’s my grandfather, and Alora needs to hurry and transport all of us back, even though Grandfather can’t tell us he wants to go. I know he wants to escape. I promise he does. Please hurry, Alora.”
She peeled her tongue from the roof of her cottony mouth. “I can’t transport.” Jerking her wrist, she lifted a helpless gaze to her soulmate.
Kaevin’s eyes tracked from her pleading face, to her ensnared arm, to Faestus—sobbing in earnest—and down to his chained ankle. She saw Kaevin’s mouth drop open as realization set in.
“Brightness!” he cursed. But then his brows lifted. “Markaeus is a gressor, is he not? Let him release the chain.”
“He cannot!” Faestus answered, between shuddering breaths. “Vindrake fastened the chain without a lock, for I too am a gressor.”
“Then let her go,” yelled Kaevin. “Let us take your grandson to safety.”
Faestus stared at his gripping hand as if it were a foreign object, though it clenched her wrist so tightly it hurt. “It is not my doing. Vindrake wills me to detain Alora for him. Not me alone... everyone in Water Clan is so compelled.”
Standing near the wooden door, Jireo waved his hand, hissing, “Someone’s coming!”
Frantic, Alora renewed her efforts, straining against Faestus’ petrified grip. Even when Kaevin added his strength, clasping both their arms to wrench them apart, she couldn’t escape from his grasp. She sank to the floor at his feet, weighed down by the ice-cold stone in her belly. I can’t be captured by my father again. I can’t do it. Please God, help me.
As Kaevin’s eyes met hers, she knew his anger was gone. And in its place was fear.
**************
Piercing the silent shroud, the noise of the approaching clansmen filtered through the wooden door. In her fright and panic, Alora struggled to control her empathy. Kaevin’s emotions, in contrast, transformed from fear to liquid excitement the moment Jireo warned of the approaching guards.
I can’t believe how much he loves to fight.
With a ceramic blade in one hand and one of the new titanium knives in the other, Kaevin shifted slightly to the left, shielding her view of the door.
“Markaeus,” Kaevin whispered, scanning the room. “Hide under the table.”
The boy scooted under the nearby table, quick and quiet as a mouse. With blood pulsing in her left hand, squeezed like a vise in Faestus’ grip, Alora curled into a ball at the old man’s feet, attempting to make herself small and unnoticeable.
As voices and raucous laughter filtered through the door, Jireo held up three fingers, and Kaevin nodded. Two men and one female spoke outside the hut, their casual conversation indicating they had no idea anyone but Faestus was inside. Jireo slipped alongside the wall to stand behind the door. Tension vibrated on her skin like a plucked string on a guitar.
What if Kaevin feels my terror, and it screws up his focus?
Alora tamped back her fear, tying it up with a mental rope. Calm settled over her like a smothering blanket, but a headache amped up in the back of her head.
The door flew open, sunlight painting a long bright rectangle on the packed dirt floor.
“Nothing but bread tonight.” The first man tromped into the room, and Alora resisted the urge to peer around Kaevin to see him. He rambled on, with a gravelly voice that sounded like he’d smoked for fifty years. “It stinks in here, Faestus. That chamber pot needs dumping...” The voice trailed off.
Kaevin tensed. He’d been spotted.
“Who’re you?” the guard growled.
With his hands tucked behind his back to conceal the knives, Kaevin remained still and silent as a statue, except for the twitching of his fingers on the blade handles.
Alora wondered what the Water Clansman thought. He’d probably never seen anyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt before. Hopefully it made Kaevin look less gifted and dangerous than he truly was.
Someone else shuffled inside. “Gastaene, stop wasting your time chatting with him. He isn’t worth your sympathies.”
“We have an intruder.” Gastaene roared, “You! Answer my question, or meet my blade with your neck! Who are you?”
“Yaerga,” the woman called out. “We have an intruder.”
“An intruder?” said the third voice from the direction of the doorway. “Do you need my help?”
“Hie! Stay back, Yaerga!” yelled the woman. “There’s another one behind the door. Go report to Master Vindrake. Tell him we’ve found two intruders in Faestus’ hut.”
