Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [59]
Black depression settled over Jherek, robbing him of even the small comfort the pearl disk had lent him. How could he dare to think even for a moment that such a thing might be intended for him, knowing where he'd come from?
No, what tonight had proven was that even the gods liked their cruel jokes. They'd placed the pearl disk before him, given him a hint of the legacy that lay ahead of someone more deserving, only to taunt him and make him recognize again the low station he'd been given in his life.
Despite the priest's words, the young sailor knew there was no escaping the past. His unmasking in Velen had proven that. He had been marked by fate as surely as Bloody Falkane had marked him with the sorcerous tattoo.
Jherek had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed when the slim-hipped figure had walked by him, but he was aware when the person turned around. Jherek took a step to the side and his hand drifted down to the sword hung in his sash. Cold air chilled him through his wet clothing. He waited.
"Malorrie?" a feminine voice called out. Hands reached up and took away her cloak's hood, revealing the short copper tresses and wide-set eyes that he recognized at once.
In spite of the darkness that gripped him, Jherek's spirits lifted. A smile filled his face. "Sabyna?"
* * * * *
For a moment, Laaqueel was paralyzed by Falkane's sudden kiss. Nothing like that had ever happened to her. She felt the heat of him against her and her senses swirled, giving over to the otherness that had crept in with her deformity. Then she recovered, opening her mouth and intending to bite his lips, perhaps even chew them off before he could back away.
She felt the whisper of cold steel at her throat and knew he'd drawn one of his throwing knives. "No," he told her quietly. "Don't even try it."
She froze, knowing he could take her life between heartbeats. She closed her mouth, horrified to find only now that some instinct had compelled her to return his kiss. She breathed out, locking eyes with him. "From this day forward, watch your back, Bloody Falkane." Her voice sounded hoarse and uncertain.
He kissed her again, allowing her to flinch away but giving her no chance to escape. "From this day forward, lady, you'll think of me. I promise you that, and I keep my promises." He called over his shoulder, "Targ."
"Sir." Targ"s brutish features, gray-green skin tone, sour odor, and nearly eight feet in height marked him as a half-ogre. The malenti priestess had noticed him around Falkane earlier, always hovering like a bodyguard. He wore a chain mail shirt over a leather rough-out vest and leather pants tucked into fishskin boots. Shells hung knotted in his stringy black hair. The hafts of the crossed short swords he wore on his back rose over his shoulders.
"Watch her," Falkane ordered.
"Aye sir."Targ's face split suddenly, revealing a mouth full of crooked yellow fangs. "Want her dead if she tries anything?" He raised a crossbow and aimed it at Laaqueel.
"No, but pain is just fine. She can always get a godspeaker and get it fixed." Falkane brought the tip of his knife to his forehead and saluted the malenti priestess. "Another time, beautiful."
Praying quickly, Laaqueel readied her power. When she loosed it, the air around Falkane would thicken and grow heavy, crushing him in seconds. She felt certain she could be over the railing before the half-ogre would know what was going on or could hit her with a quarrel.
No.
The quiet affirmation of power knifed through Laaqueel's mind, breaking the concentration necessary to launch the attack. It was echoed by movement of the black quill lying so near her heart. She looked to the cargo hold and saw Iakhovas come up the stairs onto the deck. You-you saw what he did! She wanted to spit the taste of Falkane from her mouth but she knew the pirate captain would only laugh at her.
Yes, but Falkane is necessary to