Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,85

the mountain. The winds whipped against his skin and flipped up the cloak he had bundled her in, and he sent out a silent command for them to settle. Before long, her weight began to take its toll, and he had to call upon another of his creatures. He let the stone like strength of a troll flood his veins, hardening his skin and keeping him going. Funneling his magic to control the beasts beneath his skin was very little compared to the physical strains wearing on him in that moment.

But he had no choice.

Desperation and drive employed him, compelling him forward. With every step that drained a tiny bit more, the sheer force of will pushed him to continue onward down the mountain and not falter, not even for a moment.

Cisea came into sight after far too long. Shouts rang out across the village as Lazarus stumbled through, masking his exhaustion with slowing footsteps. An ash-blonde head appeared in the crowd forming around him as cries about the she-wolf met his ears.

Draeven stepped forward, his face paling when he took in Quinn’s unconscious form.

“What happened?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing on Lazarus with suspicion.

“She’s alive,” Lazarus replied with a growl, answering the unspoken question in his eyes, but not the one in his left-hand’s mind. He still wasn’t sure how to answer that just yet, not when he barely understood it himself.

“Only just,” Draeven replied tersely. He stepped forward, just starting to lift his arms to try to take her from Lazarus when Lorraine came hurrying through the crowd, Dominicus not far behind.

“Gods above,” the older woman proclaimed. She pushed the cloak out of Quinn’s face and pressed a small hand to her forehead, then her cheek. “She’s with fever. We need to get her inside—”

“Dominicus,” Lazarus said, turning to his weapons master. He lifted his arms to hand her over. “Take her up to their room and keep guard. Lorraine, she’s sick but she’s on the mend. She needs to get more fluids and a healing brew. Think you can handle that?” he asked as Dominicus took Quinn and started walking.

“I’m a healer, for Gods’ sake, Lazarus—of course I can care for her,” she snapped, turning on her heel. He didn’t like the way his people were looking at him, like Quinn’s condition was somehow his fault, but he didn’t have time to coddle them either.

“Oh, and Lorraine…” He waited for her to pause. “Keep your questions to a minimum if she wakes up. She’s been disoriented and might not respond well.”

Her response was a cold laugh he’d only heard a handful of times over the previous ten years. “It’s Quinn. When does she ever respond well?” Lazarus didn’t bother with a reply as she turned and hurried after Dominicus. The Cisean people made way for them, their jewel-toned eyes turning from the sleeping woman to him—frigid hostility only barely concealed.

Thorne appeared around a crop of trees. He walked by Quinn, narrowing his eyes on her as Dominicus carried her away, before turning to Lazarus and motioning for him to join him in his hut.

“I’m coming with you this time,” Draeven declared and Lazarus only grunted. Having his second-in-command might go over better given Draeven’s affinity for people. It would at least keep Thorne off his back for the time being. The man wasn’t nearly as forward when others were around.

Lazarus turned through the crowd and Draeven followed close behind. Thorne was already up in the tree hut by the time Lazarus made it there, exhaustion making him drag, not that he showed it as he started up the rope ladder. His large hands closed around the edges of the wooden floor and he pulled himself up.

“You were gone longer than expected,” Thorne said before Draeven had even joined them. “My friend…” he added slowly, as if that title might be in question.

“There were complications,” Lazarus replied as he folded his hands behind his back. A picture of perfect authority and control were it not for the wrinkled tunic and dark circles beneath his eyes.

“I can tell,” Thorne said slowly, his eyes drifting from Lazarus to Draeven and then back. “Her hair and aura have changed color.”

Lazarus nodded because he’d suspected as much. Her magic had consumed the basilisk and his own when the stone returned her power. Only time would tell how much, but the lilac strands of her hair made him think the snake wasn’t going anywhere. It had chosen her to be a true master,