CHAPTER 21
DAVINA
Three weeks ago
THE TREES ROSE SLOWLY. At first, they were barely a shimmer in the distance. A mirage of dark, lush green along the baked horizon. But as we walked, their shapes became real and daunting. Towering, dark columns against the orange-red glow of the rising sun.
And just like that, I understood why this space was so zealously protected. Why their product was what ran the world. Evergreen Mahogany trees were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Their trunks were wider than the largest of pods, their bark slick and red as if perpetually bleeding.
Air got caught in my throat at the sight.
For once, even Armand remained quiet, and I was beyond grateful for the breather.
It had taken us two whole days to trek to the reservoir.
Two days of Armand’s incessant jokes about how the canyons were tighter than his nan’s ass or how he had nothing to envy the elephants and their trunks, the guide’s ongoing silence, which had only been broken by the few words he exchanged with Zephyr whenever we stopped, and the suffocating tension simmering between the captain and I after our encounter in that cursed training field.
It had been like nothing I had ever experienced before, not even training with Armand, back when I had that silly crush on him.
A current had seemed to run between us wherever our bodies touched, a tension that had continuously threatened my focus and had almost cost me the fight.
And when I’d felt the hardness growing in the captain’s pants . . .
Do not. Think. About it. Ever again.
It hadn’t been until our third day in Kamea, a couple hours before sunset, when a large group of people had appeared on the horizon.
The workers that had just finished the rotation, and among them was the guide that had been summoned to lead us to Keftara.
We’d need to walk to the reservoir because psychokinetics couldn’t navigate pods so close to the trees, their trunks muting their skills much like Malena’s bracelet did to her, rendering them unreliable.
I’d wondered how much truth there was in that, but now, with the trees’ crowns rising dozens of feet above us, interlacing and twisting around each other, casting their thick shadows on us, it wasn’t so hard to believe.
The air had shifted as soon as we entered the grove, dense with the scent of resin and something coppery and warm that must be the raw sap.
The inked skin of my fingers and shoulder blades tingled, and I knew without trying that it would be hard, if not impossible to use my abilities here.
A few birds chirped high above us, but otherwise, the world fell quiet.
Sacred. That’s how the space felt.
People moved among the trunks like silent shadows, focused on their tasks.
It was mostly workers in loose, tan wraps, sleeves tied high.
Whichever trees they were working on had massive silver spigots nailed into them, etched with the same runes and symbols I’d seen in Rolla’s uniform and some of the houses in Kamea.
Buckets caught thick sap that dripped slowly through the faucets, the white fluid shimmering faintly with an unnatural light.
“That raw flow,” the guide—Kani, I’d finally learnt this morning—murmured, his tone reverent. “Old Gods magic.”
I had to agree as I watched two workers mutter a quiet phrase before adjusting a spout in the massive trunk of one of the trees. Goosebumps erupted along my spine.
A prayer, or forgiveness? I couldn’t help but wonder.
I hadn’t been raised in a religious environment, and found the entire idea of believing in something no one had ever seen odd and impractical. But the more time I spent in Kobra, where references to the Old Gods were volleyed every other hour, the more my curiosity piqued.
We walked in a line through a narrow strip where the trunks grew close together, heading toward Keftara’s only accessible point, located in the east slope.
Roots weaved over each other under our feet like the backs of sleeping beasts.
Kani and Zephyr’s steps were barely audible ahead despite the lush jungle ground.
Too aware of the eerie quiet, I tried my best to imitate their stealth, the silence only broken by Armand’s steady cadence at my back and the occasional cackle of a bird.
The forest thickened further before it began to recede again as we closed the distance to the mountain.
I realized how the red of some of the trunks seemed to be far brighter than others, and how only the more vivid ones were being worked on, reminded of Malena’s words about the temperamental trees and their volatility in conceding being drained.
I was so caught up in them, I didn’t hear the warning.
Strong hands hit my back, hard enough to knock the air out of me. There was nothing I could do as I crashed into Zephyr’s back, stumbled, and fell hard to the ground, palms scraping against the roots.
Outrage filled me as I twisted.
“What in the—”
I froze at the sight behind me.
“Armand!” I gasped, scrambling to my feet.
But he was already on one knee, face twisted in pain. A dark shape slithered back through the leaves near his leg. I caught the glint of burgundy scales and copper-ringed black. The snake, thick as Armand’s forearm, coiled mere feet away from us.
My breath faltered, blood draining from my face. I looked between the hissing creature and the blood oozing from twin punctures on Armand’s calf.
No. No. No.
Before I could think of what to do, Zephyr stepped forward, pushing me behind him.
He drew a blade I hadn’t even realized he was carrying, narrow and curved like a fang itself.
Over his massive shoulder, I could still see the slitted eyes of the serpent.
Its head swayed as it watched. Silent, assessing.
I tried to phase, to do anything, but the air around us was too dense with particulates of Evergreen Mahogany, muting my skills. Everyone’s skills.
That was why Armand hadn’t been able to make his skin impenetrable with his own ability, I realized.
A sharp, rising whistle sliced through the stillness. My head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of Kani, fingers pressed to his lips, crouching like a panther about to spring.
The snake froze, tilting its head. Then, it turned, slithering into an underbrush and disappearing from sight. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the spot where it had disappeared, chest heaving, skin tingling.
Armand had taken the bite meant for me.
“Fuck this hurts,” he groaned, and it was his voice that finally pierced through the ice in my veins.
Crawling to his side, I rested my hands on either side of the wound but had no idea of what to do. Blood seeped from the two clean punctures, the skin around them already turning purple.
“You—” My voice cracked. “You pushed me.”
“Damn right I did,” Armand said, breath rough. “Couldn’t let it ruin those sexy legs, Lachlan.”
Tears prickled my eyes. “But you . . .”
Zephyr shoved past me and dropped to one knee, already tearing a strip from his scarf with practiced ease. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your throat,” he muttered. “Or you’d already be dead.”
The captain wrapped the strip of fabric just above Armand’s knee and tied it tight. Armand sucked in a breath between his teeth, shoulders tensing, then let out a sound between a groan and a curse.
“Been tied up better, captain,” he gritted out.
Zephyr’s sigh was lost to the shuffle of Kani’s feet. He knelt on Armand’s other side without a word, clamping one hand around his bloodied shin and setting the other on his thigh, giving the blonde pause.
“What—”
Without a word, the guide bent down and set his mouth around the wound, then bit hard. Armand’s scream tore through the grove, and I rushed to crush his hand between mine.
“Shhhh. It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.” Or so I hope.
Unbothered by Armand’s pain, Kani sucked once. Twice. Then he turned and spat blackened blood against the roots.
“Again,” Zephyr ordered, eyes fixed on the darkening skin.
The guide bent again and pulled Armand’s tainted blood into his mouth, ignoring his muffled cry, then more venom hit the dirt at his side. After a third pull, Kani leaned back, chest rising fast. Nausea rolled in my stomach at the sight of blood darkening his lips.
“Toxin left in his blood,” he ground out, the words roughened with that accent. “Go to Kamea. Fast.”
“Okay, yes,” I rushed to say. “Could we borrow a few camels?” There was no way Armand could manage the two-day hike back like this. The weight of my pleading eyes fell on Zephyr. “You said they’d cover the distance in a day.”
His nod was stiff.
“Then—”
“I’m fine,” Armand said. “I can walk.” But I heard the hoarseness in his voice.
I opened my mouth to argue but Zephyr beat me to it. “You won’t make it fifty paces. We’re going back.” His muscles flexed as he braced to lift Armand’s weight.
Relief flooded me, grateful not to have to fight the captain on this.
“No,” Armand said, grabbing Zephyr’s arm. “She goes forward.”
That shook me out of my stupor. “What?! No, Armand—”
“Show must go on.”
I shook my head. “You truly are delirious if you think I’m leaving you.”
“I’m not.” He looked at me, eyes burrowing into mine, demanding that I listen. “You need to keep going. We’re too close to back off now.”
“No. You . . . you need help,” I argued, hating how small my voice sounded.
The truth was, I was torn. Torn between what I had to do as a friend and what I needed to do as centurion. I knew which one Ludwig would want me to choose, but . . .
Armand smirked through the pain. “I’ve had stronger stuff on Widesightian taverns. I’ll be fine.”
“I . . .”
“I take him to Kamea,” Kani interceded.
“What?”
My eyes travelled between the three men.
Kani’s face was void of emotion as he moved to Armand’s side, looping an arm around his back.
Zephyr’s ever-present frown was firmly in place, attention fixed on Armand’s wound.
And my friend . . . he was unusually stoic, which told me enough about his pain. He needed help, fast.
But . . .