Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,69

make me feel braver than I truly am?

Water lapped rhythmically against the side of the boat as the tide slid them silently away from the port town. Elyea settled in, resting her head on his shoulder, and his body tensed. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t move away. Her touch made him feel warm, safe; it blocked the uncomfortable feeling in his midsection, but it also stirred up guilt and longing.

Khirro closed his eyes and willed thoughts of Emeline to mind as he dozed. He saw her standing before the farmhouse that would one day be his if he lived to return, her stomach swollen with child. Her sad expression turned to anger and he tried to comfort her, but she turned away. Grabbing her gently by the arm, he spun her toward him and took a step back. Emeline no longer stood before him, but Elyea instead, her strawberry hair lit by the sun. Khirro looked at her, at the way her bosom stretched the bodice of her white dress. Sun shone through the thin, summery skirt, outlining her shapely legs. She bent at the waist, grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to exposes the patch of red hair between her legs.

Khirro’s eyes snapped open, his body starting. Elyea stirred beside him.

“Is all well?”

“Yes,” he answered too quickly, but she didn’t notice, instead wriggling in closer, laying her hand on his chest. He looked down at the top of her head, his breath short, tempted to stroke her hair, but he didn’t allow himself.

Sleep hadn’t come when Shyn roused them to take up the oars.

Chapter Twenty-Four

As the day wore on, the heat grew, intensifying the stench of moldering canvas. Sweat streamed down Suath’s forehead, soaked his underclothes, but he remained motionless, dirk in hand. He listened to the choppy sounds of oars striking water and knew his quarry had little experience navigating a boat. His opinion of their skills meant nothing, he had a job to do and nothing else mattered.

When he came across their steeds milling about at the edge of the forest, he knew he’d nearly caught them. And he knew why they came this way. He had needed boats in the past, too; it was the only reason to come to Sheldive.

He crept aboard the sloop while they busied themselves leering at the whore as she fucked them a boat, forgetting to watch the prize for which they’d come. He hid under the tarp, lying in wait, not troubling a moment over why this odd group should be headed to Lakesh. Experience had taught him people’s reasons can be unfathomable. He’d also learned to attack when he had the best chance for survival and escape. In Vendaria, a fight may have called attention—the militia would be on high alert with a war to the north—and he wouldn’t be able to navigate the boat by himself if he killed them on the open water, so he waited. Once he killed them, he’d head up the coast and hire a boat to take him back. Or maybe he’d go to Kanos to see what price might be paid there for whatever he was retrieving. Maybe they’d pay more than Therrador.

A sliver of sunlight stole under the tarp from a spot where the rope had loosened. Suath kept his gaze on it, watching for movement. A shadow blocked the mute illumination and he tensed, ready to attack if the need occurred.

“We should send the others back,” a man’s voice said in hushed tones Suath almost couldn’t hear. “Two of us would move more swiftly. And the journey will be perilous. You wouldn’t want their deaths on your head, would you?”

A pause before a second man’s voice answered.

“No,” he said. Suath heard hesitancy in his voice. “It would be as dangerous for them in Vendaria, though.”

“They could go north, to the sea wall,” the first voice urged.

“Not with the war. They’d destroy the boat before it came within shouting distance. It’s best this way. We’ll need every sword, every bit of cunning. And everything Athryn has to offer.”

Another slight pause. “Watch the magician, Khirro, he has his own agenda for seeking the Necromancer, and it has nothing to do with the blood of the king you carry in that vial.”

Suath smiled.

Braymon’s blood.

No wonder Therrador wanted the vial so badly. The Kanosee would likely pay a great deal for this. He’d have to be careful with a magic user amongst them, but magicians bled like any