Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,19
mention that when she’d adjusted her body, it had been in a more formal way.
“Mela wasn’t noticing what I am noticing. You are beautiful. I want to drink in the sight of you. Vulnerable and fierce at the same time. Chulan was like that, once. We all were. I barely remember.”
“That’s… This is…” Alena felt like she was trying to swallow a boiled egg. “You aren’t helping.”
“I am distracted.” Kallon touched her elbow again. His fingers grazed her hips. “Look at the target.”
The red splotch swam into view, but her shoulders would not relax. Her breath came unevenly. This was not helping.
“Release.”
A blast of awareness tore through her a moment before she did as instructed. In that brief time, she saw the red; she felt her body; she noticed the strength of the wind and the sweet smell of his breath. Most importantly, in that brief moment, her body went fluid and reacted to the task at hand. She didn’t think, she just did.
The fletching quivered in the middle of the target.
“Oh wow.” Kallon forgotten, Alena dropped the bow in surprise. “I was not ready to release when you said release, and then I just did, and…wow.”
“You think too hard. Do not block out your surroundings; become one with them. Accept them into you. If a man is sounding his death scream at your side, hear it. Let his suffering wash over you, and then leave. React through it, not around it. You can save the nightmares for after.”
“That’s…helpful…” Or horrifying, she wasn’t sure which.
“You are a natural.” He moved in front of her again. His eyes delved into hers, making her feel uncomfortable. “Before you release, think of me. Maybe that will help.”
“I don’t…” She nearly pushed him away. This was becoming a little overbearing. “I don’t know about that. But thanks for your help.”
She was walking before she even knew where she was going. Before she was out of earshot, she heard Mela’s voice. “You came on a little strong. These people are not so bold.”
Mela had been in the area and Alena hadn’t even noticed. They could all have been there for all she knew. With Kallon in her personal space, and touching her—he was really distracting. The whole people were really distracting, including S’am. She gave a look when she was in fighting mode and everything Alena was thinking dried up right before a warning in her body urged her to run.
Alena had a long way to go before she was as battle hardened as the Shumas. In a way, she hoped she never made it there. She hoped this would all end peacefully somehow.
Her scoff was lost to the approaching darkness. Fat chance.
Shanti sat high in a tree away from the camp, reveling in the silence of nature, interrupted only by Gracas and Leilius creeping closer. She picked at a leaf, and then tore it apart before letting the wind blow it from her hands.
They’d reach the Mugdock lands soon, engaging in just one stage of the overall plan. They would be asserting themselves as Chosen at last.
She tore another leaf apart.
All the things that could go wrong filtered through her head, one by one. They were a small host, and even combined with the Shadow, and reunited with more of her people, they wouldn’t have enough. There was no way they’d ever be able to enter into a straight fight with Xandre and win.
So the question was, how could they even up the disastrous odds and stay ahead of an incredibly strategic mind, to complete her life’s duty?
It didn’t seem possible.
But then, it never had. Somehow, she’d made it to Cayan, and together, they’d made it farther than she could ever have expected. Ever hoped.
Taking a deep breath, she allowed a tiny kernel of hope to work into her middle. Her duty still seemed impossible, but…
She let the wind take the fragments of leaf as the two boys drifted within view, quiet as field mice. They stopped a moment. Leilius examined a tuft of grass where she had trodden earlier, then looked around the area, unaware of where to go from there. She hadn’t tried to hide her tracks, but she hadn’t advertised her position, either. She hadn’t wanted to be disturbed by busybodies like Sanders, who had already wandered by an hour ago. He pretended to hate the very thought of her, but then worried when she went missing. He was a severely emotionally repressed individual.