the sithen through unseen doorways in the ground. Guards broke up what would have been an ugly fight and both men stood, straightening their clothing—Tarrek in his fine clothes and Bahlin in jeans and a T-shirt. More words, calm words, were exchanged and both men headed inside the sithen. Oh boy.
It was about a half-hour later that the door opened, and Tarrek and Bahlin came through. Tarrek’s mouth was already healing, and he’d changed clothes. Bahlin’s split knuckles had healed, but he was still covered with the flotsam of the fight-grass, grass stains, a little blood. I smiled at them both. I couldn’t help it.
“Maddy,” Bahlin breathed, rushing toward the bed in a burst of speed. “Sweetheart.” His eyes roamed over me, and I realized I was dressed in a very small tank top and my underwear; nothing else. Awkward. I pulled the covers up a little higher.
“I’m okay, Bahlin. It’s kind of you to worry, but don’t. Nothing can be changed about what’s happened, okay? Tarrek?” He was standing near the door. I turned toward him. “Where do the lights come from?”
“Lights?”
“In the room. There aren’t any windows or lamps.”
He grinned, though there was a shadow behind his eyes that bothered me. “It’s enchanted.”
“I’m not buying that story,” I said, shaking my head then wincing at the movement.
“It’s true. It’s enchanted lighting. There are words you can say in the old language to brighten or darken a room.” He said something that sounded like contarpay and the lights dimmed to a mood-light setting. Then he said something that sounded like pletenda and the lights came back up. I laughed out loud. There’s nothing like finding out that fairies do exist and then getting to stay in a magical sithen to lift a girl’s spirits. Speaking of…
“Uh, thanks for taking care of me, Tarrek.” The words were soft, my gratitude sincere. Bahlin let out the lowest of growls, raising the hair on the back of my neck in a primal evolutionary response. “Stop,” I told him. “He saved me.”
“How?” Bahlin demanded. “He let you get shot.” His voice rose with each word.
“Don’t yell,” I scolded him. “No, he didn’t let me get shot. I was shot. Period.” This had to be part of the Niteclif heritage speaking, because in my mind I hadn’t stopped shrieking yet. “Tarrek, come over here. I want to tell this once. First, did you see Maddox anywhere in the sithen when you went out to get Bahlin?”
“No, but I ordered the guards to look for him and deliver him here at once. The sithen is enormous, so he could be anywhere.” He sounded defensive, and the tension around his eyes told me he was still convinced I was wrong.
“Thank you. When he can’t be found, you’ll be ready to believe this. Maddox was the shooter.” Tarrek shook his head, and Bahlin looked interested.
“How do you know?” Bahlin asked. “From what I heard you went down pretty quickly.” His face grew dark, and his brows drew together. A dark, heady spice was coming from him, but his smell was different than Tarrek’s. Like the previous times I’d smelled his scent, he reminded me of fresh air and rain showers. They both smelled wonderful, though there was one my nose preferred. Regardless, it was apparent that Tarrek smelled it, too, because he glared at Bahlin. Oh good. At least I’d proven one thing successfully—testosterone has a smell. I’d always wondered.
“Listen, I began to realize something was off when I got out of the car, but I was too slow to figure it out in time. Maddox is right handed. His handgun was in his holster on that side. But his sword was on his left leg, and it had been put in backwards, meaning he’d had it out to use it and struggled to get it re-sheathed correctly, probably because he was in a hurry.” I shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I also noticed the scroll work on his clothing. It wasn’t decorative. It matched some of the symbols in the clearing where Jossel’s blood was found. Those symbols were carved into the trees. The symbols must have provided some type of warding or protection, which means that whoever put them there intended to facilitate Maddox’s errand, either as the killer or the killer’s proxy when he shot me. His boots were the same style as the footprints within Jossel’s larger footprints, and Maddox was the only one who hung back when we proceeded into the woods.