Pixilated Page 3

  "Come to help?" Kree held out his hand.

  The crusty swordswoman tossed the reins to him. "You don’t need help making a fool of yourself. I hear you’ve been doing a fine job all day."

  "Good to know I’m still conversation fodder. Who’d believe it?"

  Chana stared at him, fists propped on her slim hips. "She is a trifle young for you, don’t you think?"

  A Sister of the Sword, Chana was the garrison’s current sword-master. She had served his father as a tracker. The upshot was she had known him from his youth and still thought he needed feminine guidance. Most times, he humored her. "She’s in stasis." He’d give a lot to have that comment back. He was the fucking captain. He didn’t need to explain his actions. "And you are out of line, Sister. We are talking about Lathan’s daughter."

  "I know who we’re talking about. Do you?"

  "If you have something to say, spit it out. You know how I hate riddles."

  "Kayseri Bruin is not injured. She is infatuated with you. She has been for years. She wants you chasing out into the night after her."

  Kree swung into the saddle giving the sister a curt nod. "I live to serve."

  "Do you hear him?" Chana said into the air. "I am trying to keep him from making a complete arse of his self, and he gives me Temple-talk for, ‘I’ll do as I damn-well please.’ Kree, be reasonable, just once in your stubborn life!"

  Ah. There it was his given name. Testimony to just how foolish Chana found his present course. "I gave Katie the damned horse. She is my responsibility."

  Sister Chana threw her hands in the air and walked away muttering, "Blind, stupid, stubborn man. Might as well give advice to a fence post."

  ***

  Kayseri urged Mistral through the woods at a trot. When the wind tugged the ribbon from her hair, her tight curls streamed free behind her. Moonlight painted the landscape in a silvery glow. It was glorious. Dunking the cadet in the river had not been part of her plan, but she didn't regret it. He deserved a soaking for costing her that kiss.

  Slowing Mistral to a walk, she surveyed the area for a likely spot to fake her accident. She would sham a sprained ankle, and then Kree would carry her. If she let Mistral run free, she could ride back on his saddle. His strong protective arms would be around her the whole way. She shivered, delighted by the prospect.

  Kayseri never doubted Kree would come looking for her. His sense of responsibility made a riding accident the perfect lure. Too bad, she’d had to spin so much mischief to make it happen. Mischief attracted trouble the way magnets attracted iron, but what other choice did she have. She shook off her concern. Nothing bad happened in her father's woods. She really believed that until an elf lurched out from between the trees.

  "Help me," he cried out in High Thallasi, before he pitched forward, sprawling on the ground.

  She urged her horse near. As soon as she came within arm’s reach, the elf surged to his feet and grabbed at the reins. Mistral danced away, and Kayseri saw that even if he had succeeded in grabbing her reins, he could not hold them. Holding on to consciousness taxed the poor elf’s strength. Losing his battle, the elf slumped to the ground. Kayseri dismounted and crouched beside him, noting a deep gash on his forehead. She eased him onto his back and set her canteen to his lips. The cool water revived him enough to gaze at her with pain-glazed eyes.

  "They have abducted my princess. I must recover her." He tried to push himself up, failed, and fell back with a moan.

  Kayseri fetched her saddlebag to elevate his head.

  "You must help me."

  "My Captain is on his way." Kayseri forced more water between his lips. "He’ll know how to help you."

  The elf closed his eyes. "I am Eldren of Thallasi, Son-heir of the Fourth House, Envoy of Allon, Sar el Thallasi."

  She rolled her eyes. Pedigree. Trust an elf to stand upon his all-important pedigree even when he was dying. Eldren of Thallasi watched her through pale almost colorless blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tried to make her own lineage as interesting as possible. "I’m Kayseri Marea Bruin, daughter of Lathan Bruin of Elhar and Lethea pixie of the Leafy River Clan."

  A trace of a smile touched Eldren’s lips. "Good fortune has brought me to the god worker’s daughter. You will take me to your father."

  Fortune, good or ill, had nothing to do with it. Mischief landed this elf in her lap. "I'm afraid I can't do that. My father doesn’t like strangers coming to our home."

  Eldren squeezed her hand hard enough to hurt. His strength surprised her. Kayseri caught her lower lip between her teeth and glanced down the path stretching back through the trees. "My Captain should be here any minute. I promise he will help you."

  ***

  Kree rode the north road at a walk. What a pretty pass he had come to, terrorizing his cadets by day and chasing after half-pixie girls by night. In two days, Kayseri Bruin had turned his well-ordered life upside down, and he had not felt so alive in years. When he caught up with her, he would…His head filled with images of Kayseri’s dark chocolate eyes dilated by passion, her full pink lips swollen from his kisses, her glorious raven curls spread wild across his white pillowcases, her pert breasts pressed against—Kree banished these images. None of those things was going to happen.

  When he reached the spot his cadet had described, Kree reined in listening for another horse. Hearing nothing, he silently lamented turning his back on his Goddess. His curses felt impotent. The captain pressed northward. Given its head, a self-respecting saddle horse would stay on a nice smooth road. Having trained Mistral himself, Kree doubted the mare would have gone far before calming enough for even a novice rider to control. Still, he decided to ride a little further north, dismount and walked back the way he’d come. Tracking in the dark was not an easy prospect, and he was not the garrison’s best tracker by a long shot. Chana’s skill would be welcome about now. He cursed his temper. Losing it never served him.

  Around the next curve, Kree caught sight of an overturned carriage. Moonlight outlined bodies sprawled nearby. Dread knotted his stomach. Saber drawn, he kneed Storm forward. Once he was sure, no danger lurked in the shadows he sheathed his saber and slid off his horse. Close investigation revealed a fine carriage, black lacquer with blue velvet interior and gold hardware. A very fine carriage indeed, the sort elfin nobility preferred. A small porcelain doll dressed in a fussy white satin gown lay upside-down against the far door. He reached through the window and plucked it out.

  Elfin. Interesting.

  Tucking the doll into his belt pouch, Kree inspected the bodies. There were three in all, two men and a...something. Both men wore Temple braids, but nothing else about them indicated they were Templemen. Why would someone pretend allegiance to Namar? Whoever they were, they died by mage-fire. Even if he hadn’t recognized the signs, his sensitivity to magic confirmed it. This had not been a simple working; his skin tingled with its echo.

  The third body was a puzzle. It was an elf. At least Kree thought it was judging from its ears, but he had never seen an elf as tall as this one nor quite so alien looking. The Thallasi, with whom duty forced him to deal, looked almost human aside from their pointed ears. There was nothing human in this elf’s fierce frozen beauty.

  The confusion of tracks told Kree a large party had attacked the carriage. Half a dozen sets of prints headed south and another group moved west toward Malachite. No surprise there. Malachite was a cesspool for the discontented. On the far side of the road, he came upon a set of narrow prints headed north into the woods. The tracks of a single horse with a tiny gryphon engraved on its shoes intersected and partially obscured those prints. The answer to his puzzle was moving north, and so was Katie. The staggered erratic footprints suggested the person he followed might be injured, and whoever that person was, he made no effort to conceal his trail. Broken branches marked the route as clearly, as if someone had posted a sign reading, "This way." The captain walked slowly leading Storm by the reins.

  Deep in the forest, a horse ni
ckered. Dropping Storm’s reins, Kree drew one of his fighting knives and advanced through the trees at a crouch. Fifty paces farther, he crossed a deer path where he found a bit of pink ribbon caught on a branch. His heartbeat accelerated, his muscles tensed. Up ahead the horse nickered again. Kree moved through the trees parallel to the deer path until he came to an opening in the trees and spotted Kayseri sitting on the path. Mercenaries in the woods, murder on the road, and Katie right smack in the middle of it, meant only one thing. Mischief.

  Relief washed over him, an odd feeling given the circumstances; he should be angry. He promised himself he would be as soon as he had time. Right now, he had a puzzle to solve, and the elf, whose head rested on Kayseri’s lap, was the missing piece. Kree stepped out onto the path.

  "Katie."

  If pixies had wings, Kree would have sworn she flew into his arms babbling about the elf being a prince and mortally wounded. After a swift inspection to make sure Kayseri was unhurt, Kree cleaned and stitched the elf’s head wound while Katie told him of their encounter. The elf remained unconscious, a blessing really considering the cut was deep, and Kree's kit did not contain origanum. He never carried any. Pain told him when to quit the field, a thing a man high on Goddess nectar might not realize. The elf’s other injuries were minor, a cut here, a bruise there. By the time Kree finished cleaning them, he had regained consciousness.

  Kayseri pressed Kree’s flask to the elf’s lips, but the pointy-eared prig spit the amber liquid on the ground. His pale eyes glared at Kree. "I am Eldren of Thallasi, Son-heir of the Fourth House, Envoy of Allon, Sar el Thallasi."

  Are you now? Kree rehearsed various titles in his mind. He owned a butt-load of them. He could say he was a Goddess-born Gryphon or he was Captain of Qets Garrison. He could say he was the Knight Protector of the Qets frontier, but with the fellow being an elf prince and all, he opted for the title guaranteed to give the most offense.

  "Kree Fawr, bastard." He sucked his teeth. "Nice to meet you."

  Kayseri’s shocked expression provoked a quick crooked grin Kree was certain the elf saw as cocky. Let him. "That’s good dwarf mead you’re wasting, elf." He took the flask from Kayseri and offered it again. "Does more to restore a fellow when swallowed."

  Eldren shoved his hand away.

  "Suit yourself." Kree took a quick swallow, wiped his month with the back of his hand, and slipped the flask back into his field kit. "Is that your carriage back on the road?"

  Eldren narrowed his almond-shaped eyes into slits. "Where is the Nhurstari?"

  Nhurstari? That race had died out before the Stars fell into Elhar. Kree frowned. "What?"

  The Thallasi prince raked a slender hand through pale blond hair. It trembled. "I speak of the other elf."

  "Ah." Maybe not. Interesting. "I’m sorry for your loss."

  Eldren bowed his head. A sigh escaped him. Beyond that, he held his silence.

  "What business does a pair of elf lords have in my frontier?"

  The prince gave him that narrow-eyed look again, the same look he had given him when he had asked about the carriage. The look said the elf did not want to tell him anything.

  "The Nhurstari lord and I were transporting a gift from my people to his. Humans overpowered us and stole the gift. I must recover it."

  Interesting. Out of the corner of his eye, Kree saw surprise flash across Kayseri’s face. Not true, but interesting. There was a time in his life and not all that long ago, when he would have called the elf a liar on the spot, but the years had taught him some discretion. They really had. He nodded all sympathy.

  "Well, here's the good news is you'll be in shape to travel tomorrow. We’ll stay here tonight. In case there’s any more trouble." He shot a quick glance at Kayseri, a silent warning against further mischief. "Not that I’m expecting any."

  Slapping his knees as if this settled everything, Kree stood, stretched. "I'll see to the horses." He patted his stomach looking down at the elf. "Are you hungry, Prince Eldren? Maybe I’ll set a snare too. Give me a hand will you, Katie?"

  Kayseri dimpled. "I’d love to, My Captain." She rose gracefully and slipped her hand into his. Her touch sizzled through his blood. Damnation. He needed to stay far away from her.

  Kree found a grassy spot to picket the horses and drove in the stakes. All the while, he felt Kayseri’s gaze on his back. Women stared at him. Always had. It was a fact of his Goddess-born life. Having this particular woman stare at him was a bit unsettling. Who, by Namar's bloody tears, was he kidding? It was a lot unsettling for a host of reasons. They should be on their way back to the garrison right now. Instead, he chose to spend the night in the woods. Why? Because he wanted to steal a few hours in Kayseri's company chaperoned by someone who did not know them. He was a trice-damned fool.

  "What are we going to do now?"

  Kree favored Kayseri with his most congenial grin, the one he used in council meetings when he wanted his officers to understand debate was over. "We are not going to do anything. You are going home in the morning. That elf is going to sit in my stockade until he decides to tell me the truth."

  "You can’t do that!" Outrage filled Kayseri’s voice. "Eldren is a Prince of Thallasi!"

  He had forgotten her distant connection to that supercilious bloodline. His temper, already badly frayed around the edges, unraveled. He gripped her shoulders. "He says. You say he tried to steal your horse."

  "Only because he's desperate. Just because an elf is desperate doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve our help. Besides, I promised him."

  Kree wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He wanted to kiss her until she melted in his mouth. Namar’s tears, he was losing his mind. Kayseri Bruin was driving him mad. Maybe he was allergic to pixie pheromones. Was that even possible? He vowed to ask Duncan as soon as he got back to the garrison. Maybe his genius first lieutenant could come up with a cure. One thing for sure, if he did not take his hands off Kayseri in the next three seconds, he was going to do something...unadvisable. He stepped back and growled, actually growled.

  "Maybe you shouldn’t have." Rage and frustration strained his voice to a ragged whisper. "Like you shouldn’t have dumped my cadet in the river. Like you shouldn’t make me think you’re in danger when you aren’t. Sweet Namar’s tears, Katie, didn’t you stop to think how worried I’d be? Don’t ever do that to me again. Don’t run away. Don’t take your anger out on my cadets. Fight with me. I can’t go through this again. Promise me."

  Having gotten his anger out of his system, Kree felt better. Much better. A hundred times better. It was like recovering his balance after taking a hit that nearly unhorsed him. His balance lasted until he saw the first tear slide down Kayseri’s cheek. Damn her. Tears were not fair. His heart cracked open, and his newly won equilibrium leaked out through the cracks. He gathered her into his arms.

  "I’m sorry, My Captain." She sobbed against his abdomen. "I wanted to spend time with you." She sniffed loudly. "Like we used to."

  "Hush." Kree squeezed his eyes shut against the echo of his dead wife’s voice, ‘When will you have time for me, Kree? I hate your Goddess. I hate you.’ He smoothed his hand down Kayseri’s dark curly hair. The soft springy feel of it against his callused fingers sent a shiver down his spine. Sweet Namar’s breath, he wanted to rub his face in it. Clearly, he was insane. "It’s all right. Everything’s all right now. Your Captain’s here." He wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer.

  Kayseri breathed deeply, filling her lungs with his scent. He smelled of horses, steel, and leather... and Kree. The of the Goddess' magic clinging to him was fainter than she remembered, but it was there, branded into his flesh. Many Wilderkin found Kree’s scent offensive, but Kayseri loved it. He smelled like the best days of her life. She snuggled against his taut muscled abdomen, hearing his strong heart beat just above her ear. The warmth of his body delighted her, as did the soft breathy sound of his voice. Nothing was more wonderful. Then Kree proved her wrong. He raised her tear-streaked
face, flexed his knees so his big body cradled hers, and kissed her. It was a tender chaste kiss, a butterfly light brush of lips against lips, but it heated her to her core. She smiled.

  "There you go. That's better." Kree sighed. "A man would do a lot for a smile like yours."

  Kayseri touched his cheek. He turned his head into her palm pressing another kiss there. "So will you help Eldren?"

  The spell was broken. "No."

  He sounded like a man with a troublesome itch he could not scratch. Where had her tender lover gone?

  After a quick supper of rabbit and wild greens, they settled down around a small campfire. Kree rested against his saddle with his beautiful gryphon knives near to hand. Before long, his soft snoring filled the camp, and Kayseri’s thoughts turned to Eldren’s missing princess. Why hadn't he told Kree about Sandahl? He would have agreed at once if he’d known there was a child involved. But Eldren was a prince of Thallasi. He must have his reasons. Whatever they were, Kayseri could not allow Kree to imprison a prince of Thallasi, and definitely not a prince of Thallasi she had promised to help. Clearly, Eldren needed their help. In his condition, he would never rescue his princess. There must be a way to change Kree’s mind. She bounced a fingertip on her lower lip considering her options. With just the right touch of mischief, maybe she could...Kayseri focused on Eldren and reached out with her mind.

  "Eldren?"

  Eldren’s near colorless eyes snapped open. "Kayseri?"

  Kayseri clapped her hands over her ears. Eldren’s mind-speech sounded as hundreds of bells inside her skull. She and her brothers used Wilderkin telepathy to conspire against their human father, but she had never used it outside the family. Nothing had prepared her for the force of a true elf. Wincing and pressing her fingertips to her temples, she sent, "It hurts."

  His laughter sounded in her mind as wind chimes. "My apologies. I shall whisper."