Bas,” Kaede said. “I can take care of myself.”
His woman. Bas gave a sharp shake of his head. He didn’t want to consider just how right the words sounded.
Not now.
He reached out to clap a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Keep in touch.”
After waiting for Kaede to nod, Bas turned and retraced his steps to where Myst was standing. He tugged her hood forward, making sure nothing could be seen of her face before he wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders and led her into the octagon-shaped room.
Unlike the outer chamber, the stone walls of this room were covered in elaborate carvings that matched the tattooing on the massive Sentinel who was standing by the copper post in the center of the floor.
The history of the pathways the guardian Sentinels used to travel had been lost in the mists of time, but the recent discovery of an ancient temple in the Middle East had revealed hints that the early high-bloods had been forced into a desperate escape from the Brotherhood.
It was suspected that was the start of traveling.
“We’re ready,” he said to the robed monk.
The monk gave a low bow, motioning toward the guardian Sentinel who was well over six feet and as thick as a tree trunk.
The Sentinel moved to touch the post with a tattooed hand, waiting for Myst and Bas to join him before he spoke a low word of power.
Bas grimaced. It didn’t matter how often he’d traveled the pathways, it always unnerved him.
Holding tight to Myst, Bas touched the post, feeling the world melt away. His stomach lurched, his knees threatening to give way, before there was a blur of light and they were suddenly standing in the center of a room that was identical to the one they’d just left.
Myst gave a small moan, landing against his chest as she lost her balance.
Instantly concerned, he wrapped her in his arms. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” she muttered, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve only traveled the pathways a few times.”
Bas grimaced, glancing toward the Sentinel who’d moved to the edge of the room, his stoic face impossible to read.
“It doesn’t get easier with practice,” he admitted, keeping her in his arms as he guided her out of the room, his senses on full alert.
The monastery should be safe, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Not with Myst.
“Where are we?” she asked as they crossed the antechamber and entered the Great Hall.
His gaze took in the vaulted ceiling and the line of arches along one wall that opened into the public receiving rooms. On the opposite wall were heavy tapestries that were faded with age.
“France, near the border of Switzerland,” he said, pleasantly surprised by the heavy silence that surrounded them.
Usually the monastery was bustling with activity, but Lana had promised to send word that their visit was to be kept hush-hush.
The monks had clearly taken her words to heart.
Bas and Myst had reached the nearest archway when a gray-haired man wearing a simple brown robe stepped into view.
“Welcome to our monastery,” the stranger said with a small bow, his voice thick with a French accent. “I am Brother Jean-Luc.”
“Thank you, Brother.” Bas released his hold on Myst, covertly stepping in front to hide her from the view of the monk. “We have a meeting later, but I requested that the Mave pass along word that we would need dinner.”
“Of course. If you’ll come with me.” The monk beamed with obvious pleasure, waving a hand toward the end of the hallway. “I think you will enjoy our cuisine. We have the best chef in all of Europe, if I do say so myself.”
Bas followed the monk, not surprised when Myst grabbed his arm and hissed beneath her breath.
“I don’t want dinner. I want to find”—she hesitated, aware the walls might have ears—“the man we came to speak with.”
Bas never slowed. “He will contact the Mave when he’s ready to meet with us. Until then we have to wait,” he said. “Besides, you barely pecked at your breakfast.” He sent her a chiding frown. “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.”
He felt her stiffen, her lips parting to tell him what he could do with his concern. Thankfully they were stepping through an arched entryway and into an inner courtyard.
They both came to a startled halt, stunned by the sight of the formal gardens.
Framed by classic marble statues were wide swaths of grass that had been cut into intricate patterns lined by blooming roses,