Page 47 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

He cradled the cup, absorbing its heat. Willed his hands to be steady. The last thing he wanted was to spill tea on the priceless book. It was a tasty brew, this priestess’s tea. It smelled flowery and seemed to calm his shakiness. “The Empire physically altered my brain,” he said. “It causes discomfort if I try to recall certain things. I think I used to know how to translate Sakkaran. If I try to remember, it feels like a knife plunged in my head.”

“Such were the inhumane methods practiced on you Imperial Wraiths. Go on. Drink more. It will help.”

He drained the cup. Halfway through the second cup, his throbbing headache had become manageable. “Key, keeper? I want to know more.”

“Shall we start with key?” A crack of pain, but not blinding agony. “Sacred Keys were special priestesses. They possessed a unique ability to interact with the sanctum at Ara Ana. My research on this subject has been my life’s work. It’s why I was invited along on your expedition. Yet much remains a mystery, even to me. We would need the fifth volume to understand more.”

“The fifth. You mean the fabled lost scripture.”

“The true story of our origins.” Her eyes took on a dreamy look. “A key’s abilities are passed down through maternal bloodlines, just as divine blood is passed from goddess to goddess—as with Her Majesty Queen Annis and the royal family. The last known Sacred Keys lived on the Drakken side of the border. The Empire’s campaign of genocide would have driven them into hiding—if any survived it.”

Bolivarr drove his gaze downward. His hands were clenched on the tabletop, his knuckles bloodless, his attention zeroed in on the lines of illegible runes, the runes he used to know.You’ve seen it before.

But where? When?

Keeper… Key…

Sweat tickled his brow. “Tell me about the Keepers.” He braced himself for another punishing jolt of pain. Only a dull throb erupted in his skull. It must be a residual effect of Sister Chara’s special tea. A miracle, that brew.

“Keepers were the original guardians of the first goddesses. Chosen and trusted through the centuries to protect the keys. To assure the Goddess treasure was kept safe—and secret. Some believe a clandestine group of Imperial Wraiths carries on the tradition of the Keepers to this day.”

Hope flared. What if he was a good Wraith, as Hadley always insisted? Not a depraved tool of the warlord, the blood of innocents on his hands. He lifted his gaze to her seamed face, uncaring that she’d see the longing in his. “I may have been a Keeper.”

“Yes. I pray that is the case.” Sister Chara seemed to age before his eyes. “Or you were turned into a weapon to destroy them.”

* * *

Hadley was in bed when her door chime sounded. The security camera showed Bolivarr outside, pacing in a small circle, his fingers wedged in his pants pockets. He looked so troubled and tense. Smoothing the top of her pastel-green pajamas, she told the door, “Open.”

Bolivarr stepped inside her quarters. The door had barely closed when he strode over to her.

She scooted over to make room in bed, and he pulled her close with a desperation she didn’t question. His uniform carried his scent, his familiar spice and the faint tang of sweat.

A tremendous shudder ran through his body, her bare shoulder absorbing his relieved exhale. “Is everything all right, Bo?”

“I just need to hold you for a while.”

A few beats of silence passed. It was apparently all he was going to say. She closed her eyes, slipped her fingers between his, and held on tight.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

On board theResilience,Wren sat in the observer seat as Aral and Kaz readied the ship for its plunge through Ara Ana’s atmosphere. The far-flung, uninhabited world was a shy one, it seemed, hiding behind so much cover: thunderstorms, fog, misty coasts, vast areas of rain.

Cloud-strewn oceans cast soft, bluish light on the bridge. Over the curve of the planet, equatorial storms flickered like glow bugs on a summer evening. Luckily, the pendant’s mysterious navigation motes had provided coordinates for what they hoped was the sanctum. Due to the limited resolution of theResilience’s surface mapping capability from such a high altitude, it was hard to tell what was down there, exactly.

We will soon find out.

“Scan status,” Aral said in his stern, confident battlelord voice.

“Still clear,” Kaz said. “No other craft detected—in orbit or on the surface.”

Aral stopped by her seat on the way to his. “We’re ready to head down, Wren. You’ve got your dozer if anything happens.”

“I know, Aral.” She patted her holster.

“Find your go-pack and leave the ship if you don’t feel safe there.”

“Find my go-pack. Check. Then find you and Kaz.”

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