Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,44

not concerned about Thorne,” Lazarus retorted.

“Then what are you concerned about?” Draeven asked. The violet of his eyes flashed a shade more indigo as a streak of rage ran through him. For all his pleasantries and easy-going nature, Lazarus’ left-hand was still as much bound to his brand of magic as he and Quinn were.

Lazarus didn’t know how to answer. Not when he couldn’t put what he was contemplating into words. Not when he didn’t understand it himself.

“Nothing,” he said eventually. “Nothing that has to do with the plan.”

Draeven snorted. “Come now, Laz, even I don’t buy that. Like it or not, this girl is part of the plan now. You made sure of it.” The sun began to peek over the horizon, the dingy gray of an early fog turning blue. “And just as I watch you, I’ll keep an eye on her too. Not that it should be too hard with how much she complains.”

A ghost of a smile graced Lazarus’ lips as they watched the sunrise together.

“Thank you, Draeven.”

“Always, my friend.” He turned to leave, patting Lazarus on the shoulder. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.”

Lazarus stood there for another few moments before returning to camp. All were up except for Quinn. As usual, she was passed out stone-cold, a sheen of sweat dampening her skin as she slept fitfully. He wondered then if it wasn’t just him that had been sleeping so poorly in the other’s presence. Or perhaps she always slept that way. It was difficult to tell.

When they finished packing, Lorraine finally shook her awake, quick to move out of the way as Quinn bolted upright, her fists at the ready. It was the same routine for over a week now, and as the woman climbed to her feet, still in a haze, Lazarus looked to his left-hand.

Draeven was too kind to be the right.

But Quinn … she wore cruelty like a crown.

Yes, he thought to himself. When the time comes, she will be my right.

It was just a matter of getting them there without her killing anyone she wasn’t supposed to, which some days, was harder than it sounded.

A Bird’s Feather

“Always take heed of dark dreams, for they are windows into places you have already gone but have no wish to return to.”

— Quinn Darkova, former slave, fear twister, and vassal of House Fierté

With her eyes closed and the feel of Bastian’s jerking footsteps beneath her, Quinn sent out a quick pulse of invisible power. The male body behind her stiffened. Apparently, it wasn’t nearly as invisible as she’d hoped, but Lazarus didn’t say anything. She could sense the horses and only two of their riders—Quinn frowned and glanced behind her. Perhaps Lorraine was too far back. Of the other two, she was able to discern that Dominicus had very little power and little fear, but the other one…

Quinn opened her eyes and glanced to Draeven as he turned to the weapons master just in front of them and said something too quiet for her to catch. She watched him silently, examining the way he sat in his saddle. Draeven was a tall man—not quite as tall as Lazarus—and not nearly as imposing. Perhaps it was because he was lighter, both in looks and disposition. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to blend with those around him, where like her, Lazarus stood apart. Different. Where Lazarus was a shadow man, Draeven walked in the light of day. While a pompous ass at times, she sensed a core of honor, one that Lazarus didn’t possess. She wondered how they had come to be close, despite their obvious differences in every sense.

When Lazarus’ steed whinnied at something, she jerked her gaze and her thoughts back to the present. Lazarus steered the horse up a narrower path into the foothills of the Cisean mountains. Quinn tipped her head back and stared up at the dark trees, the tops nearly black.

“Be on guard,” Lazarus called ahead as Draeven moved to the forefront.

Lorraine fell in line just behind Dominicus and Lazarus took up the rear. Seconds crawled into minutes, minutes crawled into hours. Quinn adjusted in her seat as the feel of hard leather on her backside began to send jolting pains up her spine as every shift of the horse’s weight had her bouncing hard enough to bruise.

They rode on—up into the mountains where the soft buzzing noises of wildlife fell away. Sheer rock and barren trees leaned over steep ravines. One