"What brings you out here?"
"I wanted. . . well, I did not desire to risk any harm to you as I prevailed upon you for a favor of great weight. "
"A favor? Truly?"
Throe paused. She was so guileless, so delighted at being called upon, that his guilt renewed tenfold. But she was the only savior Xcor had, and this was war. . . .
As he struggled with his conscience, it
occurred to him that there was a way to make it up to her, though, a vow he could take in return for the gift, if she chose to give it.
"I would ask. . . " He cleared his throat. "I have a comrade who is gravely injured. He is going to die if we do not - "
"I must go to him. Now. Show me wherever he is and I shall be of aid to him. "
Throe closed his eyes and could not draw any breath. Indeed, he even felt tears threaten. In a hoarse voice, he said, "You are an angel. You are not of this earth in your compassion and kindness. "
"Waste not pretty words. Where is your fellow fighter?"
Throe took out his phone and texted Zypher. The response he received was immediate - and the time line for arrival ridiculously short. Unless, of course, the soldier had already gotten Xcor into the vehicle and was prepared to start driving.
Such a male of worth he was.
As Throe put his cell back into his pocket, he focused on the Chosen once more. "He is coming this very moment. He must be transported by vehicle, as he is not well. "
"And then we'll take him to the training center?"
No. Not hardly. Not ever. "You shall be enough for him. He is weakened from too little feeding more than he is injured. "
"Shall we wait here, then?"
"Aye. We wait here. " There was a long pause, and she began to fidget as if uncomfortable. "Forgive me, Chosen, if I continue to stare. "
"Oh, no need to apologize. I'm just awkward because it is rare that I hold someone's rapt attention. "
Now he was the one recoiling. Then again, the Brothers no doubt treated any male in her presence as they had him.
"Well, permt me to persist," he murmured gently. "For you are all I can see. "
Chapter Forty-Eight
Qhuinn emerged from the hidden door under the grand stairway at around six p. m. that evening. His head was still a little fuzzy, his footfalls more shuffle than step, his body aching all over. But, hey, he was upright, he was mobile, and he was alive.
Things could be worse.
Plus he had a purpose. When Doc Jane had come in to check on him just now, she'd told him that Wrath had called a meeting of the Brotherhood. Of course, she'd also informed him that he was off rotation and had to stay in bed in the clinic - but like he was going to miss the postgame wrap-up on what had gone down at Assail's? Negs.
She'd done her best to persuade him otherwise, naturally, but in the end, she'd dialed up and told the king to expect one more.
As he came around the carved post of the banister, he could hear the Brothers talking on the second floor, those voices loud and deep, overriding one another. Clearly, Wrath hadn't called shit to order yet - which meant there was time to grab a drink of the alcohol variety before going up.
Because, duh, that was precisely what you needed when you were rocky on your pins to begin with.
After some careful assessment, he decided that the distance to the library was shorter than that to the billiards room. Old-manning his way to the oak doors, he froze as soon as he got to the archway.
"Holy hell. . . "
There were at least fifty books of the Old Law crowding the floor, and that wasn't the half of it. Over at the trestle table beneath the leaded-glass windows, more leather-bound volumes had been cracked open and were lying with their guts exposed like soldiers shot dead on a battlefield.