A Kiss of Fate

Chapter 7

Iezabel’s keen eyes swept around the clearing as she paced the camp, alert for any sign of intruders. The woods remained unusually calm, except for the faint watery murmur of Endor.

She brushed off the snow on her hood and shoulders, cursing the skies. The cold did not affect her much, but her sodden clothes did annoy her, what with the icy condensation crawling down her skin. She continued pacing around the glade, her hand itching toward her blade every now and then.

Iezabel had never seen Lady Ayana more frightened and traumatized than she had been in the presence of those accursed creatures. The guards had taken care of the runaway vlarik, but that did not mean the threat was past them. In fact, Lady Ayana was in more danger than ever. How those creatures had found them was still a mystery to her. And to think they knew about Lady Ayana. No one was supposed to know.

She rushed forward as Ayana emerged from her tent, stumbling on her feet as she tried to stuff them into a pair of fur lined boots. As soon as Iezabel helped her into them, she forced Ayana into a warm cloak and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Lady Ayana might be tougher than most humans, but even she wasn’t immune to the ailments of pregnancy. To make it worse, she was due in less than two months.

As she brushed back the loose strands from Ayana’s forehead, Iezabel noticed a pale sheen on her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes standing out in stark contrast to her countenance. Their long and arduous journey had begun to take its toll on her. Even with her inhuman recuperation, she couldn’t afford to be on the run for long. “Come, my lady. Your food is ready.”

“Iezabel,” whispered Ayana, her face acquiring an agitated look as she pointed over her head. “Do you see that?”

Iezabel’s hands grabbed the hilt of her sword as she pivoted on her feet, eyes roving the woods and sky. Her fingers tightened when she spotted it—a thin column of smoke rising from the tree tops far south. “In the name of Avnán!”

Ayana’s voice trembled. “Do you think it is them?”

Iezabel shook her head. “Vlarik don’t need a fire. Could be soldiers from Aregon.” She gestured at the guards. “Ready the horses.”

“You want us to scout the perimeter?” one of them asked.

Iezabel raised a finger, pointing at the southern edge of the clearing. The guards sprung forward, orienting themselves in front of Ayana, their swords drawn. She shifted toward the soft crunch of dry leaves, fingers closing around the leather bound grip of her blade.

The foliage parted, and five men, all armed with bows and long swords, strode into the clearing. Clad in brown outfits, they blended well with the surroundings, making it difficult to spot them from afar. Unsurprisingly, all of them wore masks and hoods.

Iezabel slipped out of her cloak and let it cascade to the ground, revealing the leather armor underneath. She extended her senses, trying to feel her adversaries. Sweet alluring scent, warm blood, and a steady heartbeat. Humans. Not worth their consideration, but she wasn’t taking any chances, not when it came to Lady Ayana.

She hissed under her breath, a signal too low for the masked humans to hear. Within a span of that moment, two of the cloaked strangers were on their knees, held at sword point by Ayana’s guards. Iezabel crouched beside her, ready to pounce. If they laid one finger on Lady Ayana…

The others lowered their weapons and took a step back. One of them removed his mask, making a sign of truce with his hand. “We mean you no harm, Lady Ayana of Argent. You have my word.”

Long brown hair framed his face, the shadow of his cheekbones merging with the faint stubble along his jaw. Iezabel scanned his gray eyes, but couldn’t detect any hostility. She pointed her dagger at him. “Are you the leader?”