Warrior Rising - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,35

a conviction she'd rarely heard in another. "We didn't bring you here to let you die."

"Be ever mindful of the greater good, Harrison. Never forget it."

"I don't intend to." His eyes crinkled, a smile lighting their depths even though his mouth didn't move.

She returned the small smile, warmed all over again. He was a rare man, this one. But as she'd warned him not to lose sight of the greater good, neither could she. And the knowledge twisted sickly inside her. Because everything she'd said was true. Rith must be stopped at any cost. And if the only way for her to get the remaining stones and flee to Esria before Rith caught her meant the death of any or all of the Sitheen, then they would die. She'd have no choice.

She could only hope it didn't come to that, because the more time she spent with this human, the less she wanted to see him hurt. Within his chest beat the heart of a man of loyalty and honor. A man who, despite a sharp hatred of her kind, treated her with more respect than her own people did.

Of all those in either world she could fight this battle beside, she would choose him.

Until the time came that she must betray him.
Chapter 8
It was midmorning by the time Harrison and Ilaria finally reached Ft. McNair, the day cold and gray. At the gate, they found a car waiting for them and Harrison ushered her into the backseat, then followed her in.

Ilaria gazed out the window, curious about this place they called a fort. She'd anticipated a grand castle or fortress, but the reality was far less imposing. Fenced, yes, but otherwise merely a small collection of low buildings surrounding a wide, grassy area. The term drill field came to mind, though what a drill field was, she didn't know.

Dotting the field and the perimeter road were puddles of dark fluid. Dozens of them.

Even as she frowned, understanding swept over her with an ice-cold chill.

Blood, each puddle evidence of another human death. So many puddles. So many dead.

It was a wonder the humans didn't kill every Esri they met on sight. But the human race, at least those she'd known, had always been a mix of the wise and the fearful. It was her good fortune, and possibly that of their entire race, that the Sitheen appeared to be made up of the former. Wise, strong men and women who fought to save their world.

Wise enough to understand that the only way to stop Rith was to take the stones back to Esria and destroy them? She was afraid they wouldn't accept that answer. She feared they'd see it as betrayal. Even Harrison. Especially Harrison.

Maybe it wouldn't come to that. If she'd sensed anything from this group, it was that they didn't give up. She wasn't sure what chance they stood against Rith now that he had the power of three of the stones, but they'd succeeded against other Esri, other foes.

Maybe, just maybe, they'd defeat Rith, too. Then destroying the stones would no longer be of critical importance. As queen, she might be able to build some trust between the races, perhaps enough trust to reclaim the stones without a fight.

All she could do now was try to earn the Sitheen's trust while she aided them in beating Rith in any way she could.

And pray it was enough.

The car came to a stop. "They're over by the water," the driver told them.

As she climbed from the car, she was hit by a startling thrill of power that danced over her skin, calling to her. The draggon stone. She'd always been drawn to its power through her royal blood. But never before had she felt it call to her in return, as if seeking its true queen. Her pulse leaped with anticipation at the prospect of holding it at last.

What gifts might it bestow upon her? She'd heard it rumored that many of her mother's unique talents - the ability to communicate telepathically, the ability to inflict pain with a wave of her hand - came to her through the draggon stone. As a child, Ilaria had wondered why the draggon stone didn't give her gifts as it had her mother. It wasn't until later that she'd learned that such gifts, if they came, were bestowed when a new king or queen came into his or her power. A rightful king or queen.

Would that happen today? Here?

"What's the matter?" Harrison