Prisoner (The Scarred Mage of Roseward #2) - Sylvia Mercedes Page 0,117
Was that your little dragons’ work again?”
Through all this talk, Nelle occasionally made little sounds and half words, but didn’t seem able to produce anything coherent. When the stranger’s voice finally trailed off, she stammered, “So you didn’t see the Thorn Maiden at all?”
“The what? There wasn’t any maiden; I’m sure I would have noticed. Just those skull-dog corpses.” Soran heard footsteps on sand, then, “I’m glad to see you all right. I was that worried. I’ve been imagining all sorts of horrors that might have stopped you from coming.”
Nelle barked a bitter sort of laugh. “You couldn’t imagine the half of it!”
Soran swallowed, a lump of blood and salt rolling down his thickened throat. So. She’d hidden a stranger on Roseward Isle. This was why she’d left the safety of the lighthouse. This was why she’d risked working magic despite every warning he’d given, despite the imminent threat of Kyriakos. For this friend, this . . . this lover?
A knot of rage tightened in Soran’s heart. He shifted where he lay, rolling onto his side, ignoring the shooting pain from his many cuts and wounds. His hand caught the side of the boat, and he started to rise.
“There’s no time to explain now,” Nelle continued in a rush. “You’ve got to go, Sam. I mean it. You can’t stay here. We’re far enough away from Noxaur now, you should be safe enough returning. I’ll help you get your boat, but you can’t—”
“Are you mad?” The young man’s voice snapped like a whip. “After all I’ve seen of this cursed place? I’m not going anywhere without you. I don’t care what bargains you made or what you came here for—”
“Shut your mouth, idiot. For once in your spittin’ life, will you—”
Both voices, running over the top of each other in anger and earnestness, cut off abruptly as Soran stood. He straightened to his full height, uncertain even as he did so that his legs would support him. His knees buckled, and the boat rocked on the sand until he almost toppled over in an undignified heap. But he steadied himself, tossed snarls of white hair from his eyes, and stared at the two figures a little way up the beach.
They stood quite close to each other. The stranger had caught hold of Nelle’s hand and seemed to be trying to draw her to him. But now he stared, startled by Soran’s sudden rise, and provided a clear view of his handsome young face, deep-set eyes, strong jaw darkened by stubble, and long black hair pulled back in a messy queue. The lad wore a familiar loose-fitting, bloodstained shirt.
Who but Nelle could have given it to him?
Drawn by the trajectory of the young man’s gaze, Nelle had turned sharply, her eyes widening. For a moment—a moment so brief, Soran thought he must have imagined it—a look of pure joy washed over her expression, and she even took a half step toward him.
Then the joy vanished. All color drained from her face, and she shifted her gaze from Soran to the stranger and back again, her mouth opening and closing.
“Sir!” she gasped at last. “Sir, I can explain.”
“Yes.” Soran’s voice was as cold as the lump of ice that seemed to have replaced his beating heart. “Yes, I’m sure you can.”
His tone knocked her back a pace. Then she shook her hand loose from the stranger’s grip and hurried toward Soran, stopping between the two men. Soran couldn’t bear to look at her. He fixed his gaze on the stranger instead, who responded with a fierce expression that almost disguised the fear in his eyes.
“This . . . this is my friend.” Nelle squared her shoulders as though trying to turn herself into a living shield. “Sam . . . his name is Sam. Samton Rallenford . . . but . . . yeah, that don’t matter. Um. He’s come searching for me, you see. He knew I’d run away from Wimborne, knew I’d got myself into trouble. I, uh, I always told him I’d go to Roseward if I ever needed to lie low, so he thought he’d come and find me. Then he got caught in the Hinter currents, you see, and pulled close to Noxaur. He’s had a bad time of it, and he came to the lighthouse for help.”
“Indeed.” Soran yanked his gaze away from the young man’s to study Nelle. “If that is so, why did you not tell me?”