Heirs of War (1)

Chapter One

Tate could hear the crash of the lamp hitting the wooden floor from where he stood on the sidewalk. He winced when he heard Zelene cry out, and automatically grabbed Varrick's arm, stopping him as he moved to go to her.

"You can't," he reminded the warrior. Tate felt Varrick's muscles tense beneath his touch. He wasn't sure if it was an unconscious response to his ward's cries, or if Varrick was giving Tate a subtle warning not to stand in his way.

"It's my blood bound duty to protect her," Varrick practically growled.

Tate sighed. "I know, Cyneward. And my duty is to protect you," he countered. "Do I need to remind you that by this world's laws, you should be in jail?"

"Remind me to send your mother a fruit basket for this when we get home."

Tate tightened his grip on Varrick's arm. "Zelene's a strong girl. She's been through enough to toughen her up."

"Too much," Varrick said gruffly, shaking off the young man's hold and straightening his shoulders.

Tate tilted his head, inspecting the older man standing before him. Since they'd met five years ago, when Tate was first assigned to Dhara to help watch over the hidden Duillaine, a light patch of grey had formed just above Varrick's right ear and wrinkles had begun to form around his light eyes.

Cynewards weren't supposed to age at the same rate as everyone else, but being in a barren land put a strain on the ties the Athucrean race had to earth and even on the bond between Cyneward and Duillaine. Tate suspected it was less to do with the world aging Varrick and more with the worry over Zelene and Ariana.

Cynewards also weren't supposed to have two wards, but the twins complicated that archaic law with their birth.

Varrick squared his shoulders, his jaw tense. "This isn't right, treior. I should be protecting her."

"Believe me, I don't like it any more than you do. The Duillaine are meant to be revered. Not...not this." Tate bristled at Varrick's sideways glance. "What? I may not like Zelene, but that doesn't mean I want her to get hurt." He paused, waiting for the response the stoic warrior rarely gave. "I misjudged the situation."

"Integrate into their lives doesn't mean hit on them, kid."

There was no sign of humor in Varrick's tone, but then again, there usually wasn't. Tate preferred talking to Raemann more than Varrick. At least Raemann proved Cynewards could have a sense of humor.

"I didn't. I didn't need to hit on Ariana to integrate into her life, and I'm not going to hit on Rhaya when I meet her later. I know how to do my job." Besides, it's not as though his job came with a manual. Treiors were supposed to study other worlds, not spy on the royalty of their world.

Varrick shifted his attention back to the house in front of them, which had quieted. "It's too quiet."

"We need to go before someone sees us. She'll be fine."

"That's what you said last time," Varrick countered.

Tate's jaw tensed. He'd done his best to help keep an eye on the twins, but with Zelene bouncing between group homes and foster homes didn't make the task easy. Tate had assured the Cyneward her new family was fine, and then Zelene ended up in a hospital. Again. Tate didn't take the mistake lightly. Bringing it up was a low blow, and Varrick knew that. "And she was. She's still here, copping an attitude and graying your hair."

"How is that?" Varrick hissed, still perplexed by how events played out.

By the time Tate arrived at her house, Zelene was gone and her foster father had been thrown into the ceiling across the room. Tate had assumed Varrick had done it until the warrior called to say he found Zelene at the mall getting loaded into an ambulance. Tate agreed—it didn't make sense at all. But there was no use dwelling on the past.