Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

4

Matei stared down at Hastor's corpse.

He had told Mhera he would see to the body. That had been his intent. Uarria was in the palace somewhere, and if she returned to her room, frightened and all alone, the sight of this charred corpse would traumatize her. She was just a child.

What was the first thing he had to do?

His mind was stuck in an illogical loop. He might have missed one of Uarria's hiding places—that was the first, most important concern. He should still his mind and retrace his memories, and if he could do so, he would certainly remember a new place to search. He could rush to the hiding place, find her there, and end this nightmare as soon as it had begun.

Matei's gaze came into focus, and he stared at Hastor's face. He reminded himself coldly that someone had taken his daughter. Certainly the only logical course of action would be to take up his sword and start out in pursuit, as instinct had first moved him to do when he had learned that she was not in her room?

Certainly, the only solution was to find the person who had threatened her and tear them limb from limb with his own hands?

Then, his mind tracked backward, desperately, again insisting that he had missed something obvious...and the cycle began again.

The sound of a booted footstep broke through the torturous wheel of Matei's thoughts, alerting him that one of the guards had arrived. He drew a breath, steadying himself as he stood with his back to the door. He had to maintain control. He must not show weakness. He would get a report on the patrols that had been organized, and then he would see that Hastor's body was taken away and tended, and then he would go to his wife and they would join in the search themselves.

"Matei."

The sound of the low, rough voice struck Matei like a fist to the stomach.

Uachi.

Matei had not fully reflected on everything that had happened. He had been unable to think of much beyond the fact that his daughter was missing, and the fact that her warden was dead, which meant she must certainly be in danger. His fear had numbed him to anything else.

Now, though, hearing Uachi's voice, he remembered who had been accused of the murder and abduction, and fury descended upon him.

He did not turn.

He met Hastor's eyes instead of his dearest friend's, taking comfort in his gradually mounting rage.

He wanted to feel anything. Anything but grief. Anything but fear.

"Matei." Uachi's voice was softer this time. Anguished.

Turning around at last, Matei lifted a hand. He noted with some detachment that his fingers were trembling. "No."

"I'm s—"

"Damn your apologies!" Matei roared, so loudly that his voice cracked.

Uachi stared, looking as if the wind had been struck from his lungs. His lips parted, but he said nothing.

"You promised me," Matei whispered, his voice shaking as his hands were shaking. "You swore to me on your thrice-damned honor that she was safe! You brought her into our lives, into our private world, into our trust!"

Uachi frowned, looking as if he might speak, but Matei cut him off before he could.

"I told you not to fall in love with her. A bloody mage." Reason had fled. Compassion had friend. All thoughts of his brotherhood with this traitorous fool were gone. Matei was in thrall to his emotions, and Uachi was the one standing by to receive the blow. White-hot anger had fully overcome Matei's helplessness; words were coming in floods before he could think, and he took refuge in them, turning over control utterly to his fury. "You wretched, thrice-damned fool. You've brought this upon us with your blindness and your lust. Your precious, innocent Starborn mage must have gotten her hands on a bloodstone, and now...Now she has Uarria, and I—"

At last, Matei broke off, gesturing at Hastor's corpse with a balled fist, unable to speak another word lest his voice crack and betray him.

Understanding dawned at last in Uachi's eyes. His expression went slack with shock. Matei hated him for that look. It was the look of a man who had not yet felt the pain of a wound.

A moment of stillness passed before Uachi stepped fully into the room, holding up one hand in a plea. "My friend—"

Matei flung his hand out to the side. Power sprang easily from his blood and welled in his palm, crackling. Red light cast eerie patterns over the walls. "Don't. Do not come near me. Do not step foot into this room. The room whence your wench stole my only child."

"Matei, you can't mean it. Ealin could never have taken Uarria." It sounded more as if Uachi were speaking to himself than to Matei. "Why would she do such a thing? And where would she go?"

"If I knew, do you think I would be standing here, an impotent fool? You're the one who's shared her pillow! You're the one who's slept with her by your side!" Matei's voice cracked again. The tears were close, and he would not let Uachi see him break.

Uachi looked as if he had not yet quite grasped this news, as if he could not fully understand what was happening. He shook his head, darting his glance around the room. Then, his hand falling to rest on the hilt of his dagger as it always did when he was facing something that made him uncomfortable, he said, "We will find her. I will find her."

Matei's chest was heaving with his unsteady breathing. He wanted so badly to loose his magic bolt, to hurt the man who had unthinkingly betrayed him. At last, though, he clenched his fist, and the magic sizzled up his forearm. The feeling of it drawing strength from his veins grounded Matei; it was something to focus on.

"I swear it, Matei," Uachi said. He met his friend's gaze, his swarthy complexion now pale.

"Then go!" Matei roared. "Organize your men! Put your damned army to use! Find my daughter!"

Uachi took a step back, turning toward the door. Matei caught him with another cruel barb just before he could slip away.

"And once you've set it all in motion, Uachi, throw yourself at the feet of my broken-hearted wife. Tear your clothes. Weep on her slippers. Beg her forgiveness, because you will never have mine."