VALEK
Yelena’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, and concern flashed in her green eyes over the news. But Valek had expected something like this. If he focused on the logic, the move made perfect tactical sense. The Commander had warned Valek that leaving Ixia would be an act of treason. And acts of treason, no matter what the reason, were punishable by death. Plus, he now had magic, of all things. He’d inadvertently traded his immunity to magic for the power to wield it. And the Commander had a standing execution order on all magicians found in Ixia.
Except he and the Commander had been close friends, and he was unaware of Valek’s magic—only a handful of people knew. He’d hoped the Commander would give him the benefit of doubt and not send an assassin after him.
Yelena put her hand on his arm. “He’s being influenced by Owen’s magic.”
“We don’t know that for sure.” There had been a few inconsistencies, like when the Commander had tried to protect Valek from Owen by sending him to the coast to deal with the Storm Thieves. He was also supposed to be protected from Owen’s subversion by the null shields that Leif had woven into his uniforms, but the Commander could have lied to Valek about wearing them.
“He has to be,” she said.
He pressed his hand over hers and enjoyed not only her touch but the respite from the constant presence of his magic. With his mental shield in place, it wasn’t as bad, but contact with her turned it all off, and he returned to the man he’d been for the last forty-one years of his life.
“Are you worried about Onora?” she asked.
Was he? They had sparred a number of times, and each time he had defeated her. But perhaps she planned to ambush him. “No. She’s the best to come along in the last twenty-four years, but unless she catches me off guard, I don’t expect her to cause me any trouble.”
“And you’re never relaxed,” she teased.
“I am when I’m with you, love.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm.
“Really? And those knives under our pillows, the swords on the floor, the darts in the headboard?”
“I said relaxed, not stupid. Being prepared is never a bad idea.”
“No.” Her gaze grew distant as she rubbed her side.
Probably remembering The Mosquito’s attack. While Valek was proud she was able to get away, he planned to ensure that would be the assassin’s last attempt on her life.
“Speaking of being prepared,” he said, “you need to leave the Citadel until I’ve taken care of any bounty hunters coming after you. Either go to the Stormdance farmhouse, or travel to the Illiais Jungle to visit your mother. Both are safer than here.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Nice try, handsome, but I’m not going anywhere. At least not until Leif and Mara return from Broken Bridge with my father, and we’ve looked over the information from Bavol’s.”
“At least promise me you’ll stay in HQ until they arrive.” He leaned close and kissed her neck, then whispered, “Do it for your handsome husband.”
Laughing, she said, “I promise to stay in bed for the rest of the morning as long as you stay with me. After that...no promises.”
“What if I give you a very good reason to stay in bed until I squash The Mosquito?”
She drew back, and desire burned in her gaze. “What’s the reason?”
“Me taking care of you until you’re out of breath and a puddle in my hands. A service I’ll be happy to perform anytime during your...bed rest.” He nibbled on her earlobe.
“Oh, my. Someone certainly has a high opinion of himself,” she teased.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Oh, yes! Show me what you can do, and I’ll consider your request.”
He grinned. “Accepted.”
Not giving her time to reply, Valek pulled her to their bedroom and made short work of her clothing. A few bloody scrapes marked her back and a number of bruises peppered her arms. Valek suppressed his fury with the knowledge that The Mosquito would soon be crushed.
Valek scooped her up and laid her on the bed, then kissed her for a long moment. She plucked at his clothing, and he grabbed her hands. “This is for you, love.”
“Exactly. Now strip.”
He peeled off the tight garment, but his gaze never left her. Once divested of his clothing, he joined her on the bed. He trailed kisses down her neck. Valek had been convinced he’d lost her when she hadn’t returned from her mission, and he planned to savor this time with her as if it were the last. His efforts left her gasping, and he gave her three very good reasons to stay in bed.
She stretched like a cat and curled up next to him. Yelena met his gaze. “You’re really worried about the bounty on me?”
Valek traced the recently healed cut along her side with a finger. Purple bruises ringed the bright red line. “I know you can handle an assassin.” He quirked a smile. “Or two, but with fifty golds at stake...a gang of wannabe bounty hunters could come after you together and split the money.”
“All right, I’ll stay in HQ until you’ve dealt with The Mosquito,” she promised.
A weight lifted from his shoulders. He pulled her close. She snuggled against him and fell asleep almost immediately. He smoothed her long black hair back from her beautiful oval face. The knowledge that he’d do anything to keep her and the baby safe comforted him, since it required no thinking, no weighing the consequences of his actions and no hesitation.
Valek had once felt the same uncomplicated feelings for the Commander, but not anymore. Even if the Commander’s behavior had been caused by Owen’s magical hold on him, Valek could no longer return to that place of blind loyalty. His new magic complicated everything, of course. However, that would just be an excuse. No. Yelena meant more to him than his own life and happiness, and much more than the Commander’s.
* * *
Valek woke a few hours later and slid from the bed without waking his wife. An automatic smile still spread over his lips every time he thought of Yelena as his wife. Not many people knew of their marriage, and even fewer were aware of the baby, but the fact that they had exchanged vows continued to thrill him, as if he’d won the biggest tournament in the entire world.
Going down one level, Valek stopped in Fisk’s office. The stark room contained a desk, a couple chairs and a table. The young leader of the Helper’s Guild bent over his desk. The fingers of his right hand ran through his light brown hair, leaving behind rows of spikes, while his left clutched a stylus. He frowned at a sheet of parchment spread over the desk.
Valek tapped on the open door, and Fisk glanced up. Dark smudges marked his light brown eyes. The poor boy appeared years older than seventeen.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Valek asked.
Fisk blinked at him. “Sleep? What’s that?”
“Not funny.”
Fisk dropped the stylus and rubbed his face. “Wish I was joking.”
“Bring me up to date, and then take a break.”
“But—”
“It’s not a request. Exhaustion will only lead to fatal mistakes. I’ll collect the information from your guild while you rest.”
He grinned. “Half of them are terrified of you and won’t report.”
“Then they can wait until you’re awake. What’s the latest intel?”
Fisk filled him in. “We think Hans Cloud Mist is a member of the Cartel. He’s