Armed & Magical

I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You threatened to lock him up?”

“I never threaten; I merely told him what my duty as paladin required of me.”

“Sounds like a threat to me.”

“I would have been entirely within my rights as paladin to take Tam into custody. I can’t trust him, but I can’t deny that he saved your life. I’m having him closely watched. No doubt, his reaction to the Saghred was as much a surprise to him as it was to you. I don’t think it was premeditated. The last time he saw you in Mermeia before we set sail, the Saghred was secure in its casket and wrapped in containment spells. At that time, those containments actually worked. There was no reaction then between the two of you and the Saghred.”

No, but there’d been plenty of reaction between Tam and me. Now there was a good-bye a girl could remember. I think I can safely say that I’d never been slammed against a mainmast and kissed quite like that before. Tam wanted to make sure I wouldn’t forget him. No chance of that.

Mychael hadn’t seen that farewell, and I wasn’t about to tell him. Especially now.

“The containments aren’t working so great anymore,” was what I said. Piaras’s song put the Saghred down for a light nap. It was snoozing just fine until it got a whiff of Tam’s magic. “I’m not surprised you couldn’t get Tam to admit to anything. Goblins are notorious for talking in circles. Tam’s elevated it to an art form. If he doesn’t want you to know something, trying to pry it out of him will just make you dizzy.” Tam’s answer to a question was very often another question. Not one of his more endearing qualities.

One thought kept popping into my head with annoying frequency.

“Mychael, has anyone actually tried to steal the Saghred?”

“No one.”

Mychael’s stony expression told me that fact confused and concerned him even more than it did me. He didn’t want anyone to steal the Saghred, but he expected someone to at least try. Apparently there were no takers—at least not yet.

“Maybe Piaras putting most of the Guardians to sleep actually was a trial run for a Khrynsani robbery attempt,” I ventured.

“Perhaps. But Piaras didn’t knock out all of my men. With the wards, spells, and guards I have down on the containment levels, no one can stroll in, pick up the Saghred, and walk out.” He paused. “The only treasure anyone has tried to take is you,” he said softly.

Oh boy.

I tried to sit up in bed and winced; my muscles screamed in protest. Mychael arranged my pillows, and with his hands on my shoulders, gently eased me back. Those sea blue eyes looked at me a couple seconds longer than was comfortable for either one of us.

“Would you like me to help with the pain?” he asked.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’d be the best idea.”

“Why not?”

I put my hand where it felt like Rudra Muralin had punched me—right between my breasts. “Right here’s where it hurts the most.”

“Oh.” Mychael’s color rose slightly. With a visible effort, he forced any awkwardness down. The proper paladin was back. “I am a healer, a medical professional. You are in pain. It is my sacred duty to ease that pain.”

He held up his right hand with a questioning glance.

Now if it’d been any other man, I’d say he just wanted to get his hands on me. Mychael was most definitely a man, though I would think that having his hand where he proposed to put it would tempt even the most professional healer to nonprofessional conduct. It wasn’t a problem for me. I was just a seeker; my ethical values were safe.

Far be it from me to prevent a man from doing his sacred duty.

“Okay.” My voice came out kind of husky. Whoa. My professional values were safe, but apparently my body was ready to toss my morals out the nearest window. I knew why. Yesterday, Mychael had used both his hands and his lips to heal my headache. I swallowed. If he did that now, I could not be held responsible for my actions.

Mychael took a few moments to steady and still his breathing. I’d already given up on mine. I didn’t know if Mychael’s little breathing exercise was to prepare him to heal, or to prepare him to put his hand between my breasts.

“What about the Saghred?” I asked. I cringed inwardly. Way to ruin the mood, Raine.

Mychael stopped with his hand halfway between us. “Since I’m not a dark mage, there should be no reaction from the Saghred at all.”

“Are you sure?” I wasn’t. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought this might be a really bad idea. “You wrapped it in containment spells, tried to bind it with a spellsong, and then carried me out of Sirens before Rudra Muralin could finish what he started. The rock might be feeling a tad vindictive.” I exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” My voice shook, and I couldn’t stop it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

There. I’d said it. My chest and throat felt tight and the Saghred didn’t have a thing to do with it.

Mychael’s calm blue eyes held mine. I couldn’t look away and I didn’t want to.

“Raine, you’re not going to hurt anyone. The Saghred is dangerous; you are not. You may be linked to the stone for the time being, but we will find a way to break that link. And I swear to you on my honor that I will not stop trying until that link is broken and you’re free.”

Okay, that did it. I had to clench my jaw to keep the tightness in my throat from turning into tears in my eyes. I was not going to cry. Mychael’s steadfast and reassuring gaze wasn’t helping things any.

“You’re hurting.” His voice was low and soft. “And that pain goes far deeper than physical injury. Let me help.”

I took a deep breath, sniffed, and nodded.

Mychael placed his hand very carefully in the exact center of my chest. I looked down and held my breath. No Saghred retaliation. No blazing heat. Just warmth. Mychael’s warmth. It radiated outward from his steady hand, comforting and soothing. I took one breath and let it out, then another, the tightness and pain in my chest lessening with each breath until it was completely gone.

I raised my eyes and met Mychael’s gaze. The pain in my chest was gone, but his right hand remained on me, resting over my heart as if making a solemn promise, or taking a sacred oath.

“I will see the Saghred gone. You have my word.”

Chapter 14

Once I’d had a good meal and an even better night’s sleep, I wasn’t exactly ready to take on the world, just the bad guys infesting my little corner of it.

After breakfast, Mychael arranged to have a bathtub brought up to my room and had it filled with steaming hot water complete with bubble bath. His healing had taken care of Rudra Muralin’s handwork, and his assurances that he was going to somehow get me out of this mess had made the rest of me feel better. A little. Promises and oaths were all well and good, but I knew he could only do so much. I had a feeling when it came time to put the cards on the table, it was going to be up to me.

I felt like everyone on this island knew more than I did. It was high time to play catch-up. No way was Rudra Muralin going to catch me with my magical britches down again. I put his books on the table next to the tub, then dipped my hand in the water. Perfect.

I started undressing. Whoever said ignorance is bliss must have died a horrible death with a really surprised look on his face. I needed to know what the bad guys knew, and I needed to know it now. Rudra Muralin was the biggest problem on my plate, but there were plenty of others to keep him company.

I was no closer to finding those kidnapped students, or why Banan Ryce had taken them. He didn’t do anything for free or without a reason. Someone had hired him, and chances were that someone was local.

I eased myself into the steaming tub with a groan of mixed pain and pleasure. What muscles weren’t still sore were in tense knots. The hot water made them feel better, and the bubbles made me feel better. Best of all, thanks to the small heatglobe bobbing among the bubbles, the water would stay hot for as long as I wanted to stay in the tub. You gotta love magic.

I reached for Rudra Muralin’s journal. I just had to smile. I would love to see Lucan Kalta’s face if he knew I was reading a thousand-year-old manuscript in the bathtub.

Muralin’s journal was filled with more smiting, conquering, and an awful lot of enslaving—and most of the slaves were elves. The majority of them were sent to Rheskilia to work in the goblins’ mines; choice captives were kept for the Saghred. I understood the physical act of sacrificing someone to the Saghred. I’d witnessed it firsthand last week with Sarad Nukpana—and gotten a history lesson directly from Rudra Muralin in Sirens. Blood and physical contact with the stone was all that was needed— the rock took it from there. But something I kept finding throughout the journal didn’t make sense. Muralin referred to himself as the Saghred’s “bond servant.” Believe me, I got that part. What I didn’t understand was that on occasion sacrifices were brought to Muralin—not to the Saghred— and he would “accept the gifts” on behalf of his master. The word “master” was used interchangeably with “Saghred.” And in two instances, Muralin was referred to as “the vessel.” Maybe my Old Goblin language skills weren’t as good as I thought, but from what I read, Muralin’s “gift acceptance” was always fatal to the poor, elven gift.

The next pages took something I already knew one big, scary step further. To use the Saghred, you didn’t have to be anywhere near the stone itself. I’d used the Saghred only twice before, last week in Mermeia. The stone and I were in the same city, within only a mile or two of each other. Yet according to Rudra Muralin, distance was no barrier whatsoever. As long as the Saghred was awake, Muralin could use it. Whether he was one mile from the stone or a thousand, it didn’t matter. Sometimes the Saghred traveled with the goblin armies; sometimes only Muralin did. The level of death and destruction never changed.