Page 40 of Whispers of Ruin
She knew the answer to that, even if she’d never voice it.
* * *
Brokk studiedtheir surroundings while waiting outside the hut for Kaylia. Creatures moved about, branches and limbs broke beneath their weight, and trees shook as the things in the night bounced off them.
Some of the things screamed while others made soft cooing noises that almost sounded rather pleasant. He’d spent enough time in the human realm to know he enjoyed the songs of the crickets and peepers.
Some of these creatures reminded him of those as they made their music. But the song only broke through the endless noise of death and suffering on occasion as the night animals hunted and fed.
What he didn’t hear were the whispers that haunted them during their first days in Doomed Valley. He hadn’t heard them since entering the mirror realm, and he was fine with that.
Amsirah guards stood in the shadows of the huts. The flickering fire from the torches illuminated the spaces between the shanties but didn’t illuminate much beyond them or the guards.
The power of the spell the witches cast to keep the camp safe prickled against his skin and vibrated the air. While the shield over the camp wouldn’t deter everything, it would keep most of the monsters at bay.
A rustle from behind alerted him that Kaylia had emerged before she stepped beside him. He kept his eyes on the night, but every part of him was aware of the warmth and life she exuded, as well as her enticing, underlying scent.
And despite her vitality, power, and sexual appeal, she’d locked herself away after the loss of her fiancé and only recently reemerged into the world of the living. He couldn’t imagine her heartbreak after losing her love, but, to him, the real travesty was that she’d hidden herself from the world like she had.
Finally, he turned his attention from the night to take her in. His breath caught a little as the radiance of the moon and torches emphasized her stunning beauty.
Even still covered in dirt and blood, and with her hair matted around her features, she was exquisite. Unable to stop himself, Brokk brushed a strand of hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
Her eyes widened when his fingers lingered on her silken chin before falling away. His hand still tingled from where he’d touched her skin.
He was battered, exhausted, and had taken a beating tonight, but hunger crept through him as he rubbed his fingers together. “How’s your leg?”
She glanced down at her wounded leg with confusion, but then her brow cleared as if she’d just recalled the injury. “It’s healing. It will be fine once I clean and put some ointment on it.”
“Good. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.”
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bathe in the stream right now, but there was no way he would sleep tonight, covered in filth, when he could finally be clean again.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
They walkedside by side down to the stream. The witches had retreated from their huddle in the center of the clearing; the fire beneath their cauldron had gone out, but they remained standing outside a couple of huts, their arms around each other.
“Do you think they’ll leave?” he asked Kaylia.
“No. I think they would have already if they planned to do that.”
“Do you think it’s odd they’ve chosen to stay?”
She bit her bottom lip as she pondered this. “A little, but they’ve been a part of this for a couple of years and have a lot invested in whatever happens. They’re probably also being paid well.”
“I’m sure they are.”
He turned his attention away from the witches as they approached a guard. The woman nodded to them as they passed, and Brokk did the same in return.
He still wasn’t overly fond of these weather-controlling douchebags, but if Ryker could get them to the crudue vine, then he would ensure they helped rescue the amsirah king.
“What do you know about the amsirah?” he asked as the jungle closed around them again.
“Not much. I know they can control the weather, and Tempest is a beautiful place, but it’s been many centuries since I’ve been there or met Leonidas. However, anyone who fosters the kind of loyalty that Ryker and these men exhibit toward him must mean he’s still a good man.”
“I have to agree.”
