Page 7 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

Sabra was down. Ilkka loomed over her, her arm raised high. Metal glinted in her hand before she hurled it down.

“No!” Heat swelled inside Wren’s chest, filling her with the desire to protect. To punish. Her pulse drummed. She was no stranger to her red-hot temper, but never had she felt an emotion so pure. Two fishing knives were in her hands before she’d even thought of what to do with them.

One knife then the other flew across the shed and sank into Ilkka’s back. She crumpled to the ground. Her breaths gurgled wetly then ceased.

Wren stared. Fates, she’d killed Ilkka.

CHAPTERFOUR

Wren staggered awayfrom Ilkka then flew to Sabra’s side.

“Well done, Wren.” Rooting between the folds of her clothing, Sabra yanked on the thin, bright blue cylinder poking out of her stomach before throwing it to the ground, muttering, “What have you done, Ilkka? Stupid, stupid woman. Wren—I’ve been poisoned. Get my pouch. The pendant. Hurry.”

Inside, Wren found a flat black oval pendant on a chain, not heavy but solid, the metal unusually cool to the touch. In her hand, it warmed quickly. On its flawless surface, five tiny points of light glittered like a constellation on a summer night: two lights on each side and one at the very tip. Mesmerizing. She tore her eyes from it. “Does it contain an antidote?”

“No, no. This is yours. It was created for you, this piece. It’s unique to you, and interacts with only you.” Sabra looped the necklace over Wren’s head. “It wasn’t to come into your possession until the first day of your twenty-fifth year.”

“Ilkka just tried to kill you, and you’re worried about giving me an early birthday present?”

“Wren, shehaskilled me. She used a suicide drug. No pain. But fast-acting.” Sabra rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “It will soon put me to sleep then stop the heart.”

Wren’s own heart felt ready to stop beating. “There’s stim tea in the chalet. I’ll brew as many pots as it takes to wake you up and flush the drug out of you.” If only she were big enough and strong enough to throw Sabra’s muscular body over her shoulder and carry her out of the shed. “We’ll walk you around, keep you moving—”

“Wren—no.” Sabra tugged on the dangling pendant and used her Teacher’s Voice. “Follow the stars. See them? They’ll guide you to Ara Ana, the birthplace of the goddesses. Only you can open the sanctum; only you can unlock the treasure and all its wonders.”

This again. The stupid treasure. Ilkka was dead because of it, and Sabra might soon be. “I don’t want riches.” Wren’s heart clenched with despair, her eyes burning. “I wantyou.” Sabra had been the one constant in her life. Her anchor. “Please don’t leave me.”

Sabra’s lips trembled. It took a moment before she found her voice again, her speech noticeably slurred. “You can do this. You’re ready. Yes, you’ll enter the inner sanctum alone, but your body and your mind are trained and strong. The rest lies inside you, inside your heart pure and true. Hear me; heed my words. You will not fail. For many lifetimes now, we’ve waited for a Sacred Key as powerful as you to come along. You’ll unlock the sanctum and embrace its wonders, and the galaxy will be made whole once again.” Getting all that out seemed to sap all her strength. She struggled to keep her eyes open. Wren snatched her hands. “Do you understand what you must do, child? Repeat the steps.”

A tear tracked down Wren’s cheek. “Unlock the sanctum. Only I can do it. But first I have to follow the stars to Ara Ana.”

“It’s your purpose… your destiny.” Sabra’s lips formed a smile. “I’m tired, sweetling. So tired. Let me rest awhile.”

She seemed to drift peacefully off to sleep. Wren squeezed Sabra’s hands harder, as if she could hold her fast to this world. She watched every breath her guardian took until they finally ceased. “Fates, no. Sabra!”

No pulse. She was gone.

Grief lanced Wren’s heart, and she sobbed into her fist. Awareness of her loss, of being left all alone, engulfed her.

Wren spun to Ilkka’s body. “You killed her. I loved her. She lovedme.” The only person who ever did.

Outside, strangers yelled to one another. “Is that all of them?”

“I think so.”

“Be sure. Nobody’s to be left behind.”

The shouts cleaved through her grief.I can’t stay here.Drying her eyes and glasses, she absorbed the aftermath of the fight. Two bodies. Blood. And her, unharmed.

Several people walked close enough to the shed for her to hear the gravel grinding beneath their heavy boots. She couldn’t be found here. It would generate questions.

Questions would be dangerous.

Wren shoved the necklace under her shirt, tucking the pendant under her bra.Follow the stars. The five little lights, she surmised. Was it a map or a key—or both? It looked worth a fortune. The last thing she wanted was such a valuable object in her possession, let alone the treasure to which it led. People would fight to possess that treasure as they would fight over her. Yet she’d agreed to find it, a treasure she didn’t want, the contents of which were a mystery and now somehow her responsibility.

How was she supposed to make the galaxy whole again when she was the person most likely to tear it apart?

More shouts came from outside.

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