to thank her.”
Chapter Seven
The night air was crisp and clean and so fresh, Joie gratefully dragged it deep into her lungs. Fear was dissipating now that she was out in the open and she knew her siblings were safe. She pulled her helmet from her head to allow the wind to comb through her hair. Stretching her arms toward the moon, she laughed softly. “I love the night. I love everything about it. It doesn’t matter if it’s stormy or not.”
She turned her head to look at Traian. His face was beautiful in the moonlight. “Worthy of a Greek god,” she murmured, astonished that she felt so much for him, that her emotions were so strong and connected with his. His hair fell like black silk around his face to his shoulders. There wasn’t so much as a smear of mud on his face. All traces of blood were gone from his chest, leaving only the raw gashes on his flesh.
Joie shook her head, stepping away from him, putting distance between them. She needed space, needed to find balance. “Thanks a lot for leaving me standing filthy and wet all by myself while you’re all shined up and looking good. I’m not even going to ask how you did that.”
His teeth gleamed at her, more the smile of a wolf than a man. “I have my little secrets. You are shivering. Hand me your harness and pack and take this jacket.” He enfolded her in the warmth of a suit jacket.
Joie decided not to ask him where he found the jacket either, or how he got clean. “How did you find the way out? I couldn’t see a thing.” She sank down because all at once she was tired and she wanted to feel the ground under her. Traian had changed her entire life in the blink of an eye, and she didn’t want to think too much about the bizarre world he lived in.
“There were signs if you knew what to look for. In the old times, Carpathians and mages were not enemies. We lived side by side and enjoyed the benefits of both races. We often used the same glyphs. I saw them as we moved through the halls. Mages and Carpathians actually worked and studied together, were friends and allies. We shared knowledge with one another.”
“What happened to change everything?”
Traian sighed. “Mages have great longevity, but they are not immortal. We can be killed, but it is not easy to do. The great mage, Xavier, we all trusted and believed in—he often taught our more gifted children in the arts . . .”
“More gifted than you are?” Joie raised an eyebrow. “You can do just about anything. How much more gifted are your children?”
Instead of smiling he looked sad. “We do not have children any longer. Ours is a dying species. Few women are born, and our children are not surviving. Such treasures are lost to us.” He shook his head. “This network of caves could very well have belonged to Xavier at one time and it is possible one of his descendents is using it now—unless he still lives.”
“I can hear the distaste and contempt in your voice.”
“He betrayed the friendship of our people and began a war that has been waged for centuries, devastating both of our peoples.”
Joie looked up at his face. There was no hatred, only a sorrow that filled him with sadness. To her, Traian was a handsome man, timeless and even elegant in an honorable warrior sort of way. The lines in his face only served to make him more attractive to her. “I’m so sorry, Traian.” She couldn’t imagine what his life had been like.
Traian crouched down beside her, touched her chin with gentle fingers. “Let me take you back to the inn where you are staying. You are tired and hungry and want a shower. You are also very worried about your brother and sister. You needn’t be. I’ve assured your brother that we are safe and they are waiting at the inn, already warm.”
“Thank you, I know you told me they were safe, but it’s difficult with everything that’s happened not to want to touch them physically to reassure myself. I know they’re both experienced climbers and neither panic, but we’ve never had to face . . .” She broke off and waved her hands. “Vampires and traps.” She covered her face for a moment. “That sounds so insane. The world has no idea those things actually exist.