He fingered the stem of a tuble flower. One of its blue-green petals had been bent back, indicating someone had brushed past it on his or her way east.
Kerrick paused a moment as a wave of exhaustion swelled. He’d been searching the forests around Krakowa most of the night for Rakel and her captor or captors. Noak, Canute and Olave waited for news at the edge of town. Danny had been sent to bed.
It had taken Kerrick nearly an hour to convince the tribal leaders to let him search alone and not with hundreds of warriors bumbling around the woods. Not only would that many people interfere with his magic, but they might ruin any trail signs left behind. It had been a difficult concept for them to understand, having lived all their lives in the flat wildlands.
And asking for his sword had caused another intense debate. The last thing he wanted was to run into a couple rogue warriors and be unable to defend himself. Kerrick rested his hand on the hilt of the sword, its familiar weight a comfort.
Pushing his magic as far as he could to the east, he connected with the living green, seeking any irritations or sore spots that would indicate another person walked among its home. Nothing, except the hollow void that meant a cave about a mile away.
He smiled, remembering Avry’s aversion to them. Unlike Kerrick, who held a certain fondness for them since they had made love for the first time in one, and the second time and the third... Before he could wallow in his memories, he returned his attention to the problem at hand.
They weren’t hiding in this section of the forest, but they might be overnighting in the cave. Better check and make sure. Kerrick jogged through the underbrush without causing a sound. After tonight, he’d probably sleep for a week. When he drew close to the entrance, he slowed, then stopped about fifty feet away. Once again he scanned the area with his magic, but no one guarded the entrance.
He crept closer. The faint scent of wood smoke reached him. The first positive sign since the tuble petal. Kerrick parted the vines, revealing a three-foot-wide by four-foot-high crack in the rock face. A flickering, orange-yellow glow reflected off the jagged wall just inside. No voices murmured, only the small pops from the fire.
If he was lucky, they would be asleep. If not...
Crouching down, he entered. A few flames clung to the dying fire. Stretched out next to it was a woman. She was asleep. Kerrick glanced around the small cavern, seeking others. But it was empty.
He studied the woman—no doubt Rakel. Long limbs, lean and a powerful build like her brother, Noak. Her white-blond hair had been braided into one long plait. It took a moment for him to notice her split lip, the purple bruises on her right cheek and her ripped shirt. Still-wet blood stained the front of her white tunic. A dadao rested next to her within easy reach. Dried blood coated the edge of it.
It appeared Rakel might have fought off her captor. Kerrick inched closer. Was she injured? A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. She also looked flushed, but it was hard to tell in the dim light.
He took another step. Rakel jerked awake. In one smooth move, she hopped to her feet, grabbed her weapon and pointed it at Kerrick.
“Don’t come closer,” she ordered.
“Easy,” he said, holding out his empty hands.
Her gaze slid past him. The vibrant green of her eyes matched the forest. Since all the other tribespeople had blue eyes, Kerrick wondered if the color was due to her summer magic.
“I’m alone.”
She huffed in disbelief. “Noak sends his dog to track me down, fetch me home. And he’s all alone?”
“He asked me to find you. He thought you’d been taken against your will.”
A harsh laugh. “Everything has been against my will.”
Even though her comment could be interpreted many ways, Kerrick guessed it had to do with her upcoming marriage. “Did you escape from your seclusion?”
“I will not go back.”
And that would be a yes. “But—”
“I will die before I marry. I will not be bound!” She charged.
Instinctively, Kerrick twisted. The dadao’s sharp tip narrowly missed his stomach. He trapped her weapon against his chest and stepped back, pulling her off balance. She released her grip, recovered her footing and pulled a dagger.
Kerrick clasped the hilt of her dadao, but she aimed the blade at her own neck. He dropped her sword and tackled her. The dagger flew from her grasp on impact. She stilled under him, panting as if she’d run for miles. Kerrick rolled off her but kept alert for any sudden movement.
Rakel squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Fresh blood soaked the front of her shirt.
“You’re injured,” he said.
“Leave me to die, then.”
“I can’t.”
“You are afraid of Noak.”
“With good reason. His Winter’s Curse is unlike anything I’ve experienced before, but I’m more terrified of a certain healer I know who would kill me if she ever found out I left you to die.” And Belen wouldn’t be happy either. He leaned back on his heels. “May I?” He gestured to her stomach.
With resignation, she pulled the fabric up, revealing a long deep slice all the way across her waist. Kerrick wasn’t an expert, but he’d seen his share of battle wounds, and this one didn’t look good.
“You need care. Won’t your father reconsider your marriage to Olave since you’re unhappy?”
“He cares not for my...happiness. Only for the tribe.”
“Is there another you wish to marry? One who can challenge Olave or your father?”