Chapter XLIII - Confusion

Hello Everyone!
First of all, I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters (though your responses and obvious anticipation of another chapter was pretty awesome to see *grin*). Thank you for that.
solagratiasolafide: Thank you! I'm glad you liked the dialogue in that chapter, because I really enjoyed writing it! The scene with Tancred and Grant is one of my favorites. It's like Tancred is able to be the Hunter for the last time. It made that scene rather bittersweet to write. I will work on making Grant easier to remember, as well, so that his appearance isn't so much of a oddity.
Britt : Well, the Brysa/Garrick thing WAS completely unintentional! I never, ever planned on Brysa falling in love with anybody (she was supposed to remain single) and then Garrick just took matters into his own hands and became a viable character. *sigh*
Michelle: Yeah, as I told Britt, you may have called the Brysa/Garrick thing but I must tell you that when you did call it, it was not planned. So, um, good job for calling something that just kinda happened!! Now that is true talent. :-) As for Tancred and Grant, I understand what you're saying about Tancred being "harder," and the scene perhaps being inconsistent. I think that since the scene is from Grant's point of view, Tancred looks different. He would appear harder, more cynical, and cold. Especially if you take into account who Grant was: he ruined the lives of hundreds of Aerilyans, kidnapped and enslaved Zoe, and Zoe's friends. Tancred isn't feeling very warm and fuzzy toward him. :-) Still, thanks for the heads-up and I'll continue striving to stay true to my characters.
Ashley: Thanks! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Comment on this one too, okay?
Libby: Wow, thanks for some high praise on my story! I'm glad you're enjoying it; that's the point of writing it! It has been fun--okay, more than fun, let's try AMAZING--to write Zoe and Aiden's stories intertwined like they are. I hope you like how we both tie things up near the end too.
Anonymous, Katie, and Ashley again: Wish granted. Here's more Zoe. ;-)

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Tancred skirted the dance floor, his head up and eyes scouring the inhabitants of the room. Zoe was gone. Again. It is so like her to leave without a word to me or anyone else, he thought with both wry amusement and a twinge of cynicism.

He had noticed her apathy during the main meal but had been unable to ascertain why she was so withdrawn, mostly because there were too many people around, all of whom wanted to talk to the Hunter of Mairbrac. For once Tancred wished his name did not precede him. At the moment all he wanted was a bit of anonymity, enough so that he could steal off for a while and not be noticed missing. He had Zoe’s pouch with him and wanted to give it to her.

A slight sigh escaped from him. Obscurity will come after returning to Aerilya, he reminded himself. No longer was the Hunter needed to stop the Elangsians. His life might actually return to normal—whatever normal was. He and his family had not experienced normal since before the war began, when he was twelve.

“Sir Hunter, please wait.”

Tancred stopped with a feeling of resignation. Finding Zoe would have to wait now. Turning, he was a little surprised to see that Queen Brysa had called his name and now wove through the crowd to draw near to him. He bowed slightly as she drew close. “My lady,” he said.

She dipped her head at him and as he had done many times before, Tancred was forced to acknowledge her stunning natural beauty. Her blue-black hair shone glossily in the light of the chandeliers and candles, and the burgundy crushed-velvet fabric of her elaborate gown was a perfect foil against the creamy color of the white rose that she held. She was young and fair and full of life: a most excellent mixture for the new ruler of Elangsia.

“King Jaeger and his men will be leaving the city soon,” she began without preamble, her voice smooth. “You will go too. I wished to speak to you before you left.”

“What would you to say to me, my lady?”

“How did you manage to spy in this city so many times without being caught?” Her expression was honestly curious. “None but you came here, for it was too deep in enemy territory. My father was too well known for killing spies at Execution Square.”

He appraised her. Aye, he knew all too well about her late father’s killing tactics. “I created the persona of Cormac Alstair just for my spying trips here in Ruma,” he eventually told her in a quiet voice. “Alstair was so deeply ingrained in me while I was here that it was not difficult to act, think, and deal as he would. Thus, no one noticed anything wrong with my actions.”

“Why Ruma?”

“What better place to collect information on our enemy? Ruma is the capital of Elangsia; your father the king reigned here. This was a hotbed of intrigue and information.”

“And so you repeatedly risked all for Aerilya to come here,” she stated in a soft voice.

He merely inclined his head in reply.

She cocked her head. “Your actions were knightly and brave, which lines up with your identity as the famed Hunter. But there is something amiss with your account, and I must hear the truth before you leave Ruma.”

What? Inherent wariness set in, and Tancred frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your age,” she replied quietly. The rose slowly rotated as she rolled the stem between her fingers. “You cannot be but a few years older than me, putting you as a pre-teen when the war started. Do not mock me and tell me that as a beardless youth you commanded grown men and executed brilliant tactical decisions such as the Hunter has always done.”

He hesitated. How much should he reveal to Brysa? The war was over, yes; and the Hunter’s identity had no need for secrecy anymore. Nevertheless, after so many years of silence it was difficult to speak the truth to strangers. He glanced at the crowd that milled around them, then took the queen’s arm with a firm hand and pulled her toward a wall that provided some sort of shelter from listening ears.

“What I now tell you must remain in strict confidence,” he said, his voice turning cool and unfeeling. “It cannot pass beyond you, my lady.”

“I understand,” she breathed, seeming surprised but not perturbed by his swift change in demeanor.

“My father, Liam Ralyn, was the original Hunter of Mairbrac. He was killed by order of your father, in this very city. I was seventeen at the time, and picked up the mantle of my father so seamlessly that none other than my men and family knew the difference. To outsiders who never even knew the true name of the Hunter, it appears as if the Hunter has lived through the entire war without injury or harm.”

Her eyes were swimming with empathy. “My father...killed yours?” she whispered huskily.

He nodded once, sharply.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It happens during war,” he replied, struggling to bury his own emotions. How he wished his father could have lived to see this day of peace between Aerilya and Elangsia...

She sighed deeply, her eyes closed. At last she opened them and evenly met his gaze. “I wish you the very best fortunes in this life, Tancred Ralyn,” she whispered emphatically. “May Deus richly bless you.”

Touched by her words, he smiled down at her. “I wish the same to you, my lady. You have a bright future before you.”

She dropped her gaze to the rose and nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

With another bow, Tancred turned and strode away. Ducking out through one of the huge open doors, he left the Hall of Kings.

During the last week, though he had not spent much time with Zoe, he had noticed it was her wont to retire to the slowly withering gardens that were situated just outside the castle, within the courtyard’s walls. Now he was willing to bet that was where she was at that very moment. She preferred solitude to festivities and purposeful action to elongated revelry.

After traversing the length of the castle, Tancred reached the door he sought. It was partially ajar and he was able to open all the way without any sound. Stepping through it, he entered the moonlit gardens.

His guess had been right: Zoe sat on a stone bench not fifteen paces in front of him, her back to him and her head tilted up to the starry heavens. Her hair, which had been brushed smooth and twined into a couple small braids that crisscrossed over the crown of her head, shone amber in the moonlight. A chill was in the mid-autumn air, but he did not heed it as he drew close to her.

She did not turn, but she apparently sensed his presence for when he reached the bench she murmured, “The stars are glorious tonight. What a display from Deus.”

He glanced up at them. The sky was especially brilliant that night, likely because of the clear, cold air. The stars twinkled and blazed and danced while the moon slowly rose and glowed stronger like a pearl of purest white that shone with light from the inside.

Zoe moved over and, still not looking at him, motioned to the empty space beside her. “Go ahead and sit.”

A little surprised by her invitation, Tancred silently accepted. Dropping his gaze from the heavens, he looked over at her. Her profile was starkly apparent in the contrasting light and darkness.

“Why did you leave?”

Finally she glanced over at him. “The feast? It was long and I did not care to dance. I’m not at all good at it.”

He smiled a little. “You missed Garrick and Brysa’s dance, though.”

“He asked her?” asked Zoe with a slight chuckle.

Tancred nodded.

“I cannot say I am surprised. It was not difficult to see that he fancies her,” she said. “I think she cares for him too.”

“Listen to you, the wise woman of love,” he teased, amused.

She shrugged his words off. His smile faded as she looked back up at the stars and sighed deeply. What’s troubling you, Zoe? He wished she would just tell him but was smart enough to know he would have to ferret it out. She was such an odd contradiction. In some ways her emotions were worn right on her sleeve, for he could always tell when something was wrong. Yet at the same time, she kept them hidden away, like a sword in a sheath of iron.

“You’re leaving Ruma soon, aren’t you.” Her statement was quiet but cracked the stillness with a hint of abruptness.

“Aye,” he nodded slowly. “I have things to deal with back in Aerilya. My allegiance to King Jaeger will never diminish, of course. But my role is changing.”

“Will you miss it all?”

He knew she meant his life as the Hunter of Mairbrac. Shifting a little, he leaned forward so that his forearms rested on his knees and his hands were loosely clasped together. He studied his fingers: long, lean, and nicked with scars, they were hands that had served him well in what seemed a lifetime full of danger and difficulty. Eventually he stirred and replied, “I will miss it to some extent. But there will be other challenges that I’ll face. Life will go on.”

She sighed, a long breathy sound. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sitting up again, Tancred said, “I have something for you.”

Curiosity laced her tone as she asked, “What?”

Reaching down to his thick leather belt that rested comfortably around his hips, he pulled out the pouch he had extracted from Terrance Grant. “I believe this is yours.”

Her gaze dropped to the pouch, and he watched as her expression shifted drastically. Her eyes widened, flashed up to his face, and then down to the pouch again. A moment later she reached forward and took it from him, then fumbled to open it with fingers that were suddenly clumsy. “Tancred, how did you get it?” she breathed as she finally opened it and pulled out a beautifully carved horse token. Cupping it in her hand she looked up at him with shining eyes and a tiny, but still disbelieving smile. “How...?”

“I found Grant’s house last night,” he explained. Quiet satisfaction shot through him as he saw her gratification. “I retrieved that this morning.”

“But why?” she questioned, still stroking the little horse figurine with her fingertips. “I would have done it myself.”

“I know.” He shrugged easily. “I just decided not to let you.”

Gently she replaced the figurine and closed the pouch. She clasped it between her hands, her fingers running up and down the soft leather as if she could hardly believe it was really there with her. “My thanks,” she finally whispered. “This means...a lot to me.

“Sam, my twin, he carved that horse for me,” she continued. “It was for my sixteenth birthday. It’s Brac. And the pouch is exactly the same as one that he owns. We liked to wear them all the time because it reminded us of each other even when we were apart for a little while. It was terrible when I lost it. I felt as if I were being parted from Sam all over again, as unreasonable as that might seem, seeing as it is just a pouch.”

Tancred shook his head. “It’s not unreasonable.” He stared off for a long moment and finished in a low, strained tone, “I fully understand the pain of being apart from a sibling, though naturally not to the same extent as you.”

Her eyes flew to his and her expression grew understanding. “Kristalyn.”

“Yeah.” His chest tightened and his exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. He was really getting worried about his sister. Kris had not contacted him once since he had sent her the extra men for attacking the Wild Men. What had happened to her? What if she was...?

No. He would not go there. He could not.

Forcing his mind away from Kris with a huge effort, he looked over at Zoe and changed the subject. “What are your plans now?” he inquired.

Her face, so soft and open just a moment before, was replaced by a tense expression. She looked away. “Finding Grant was the next thing on my to-do list,” she said slowly. “Now you’ve taken care of that. I was just thinking today that I don’t really have much reason to stay here anymore. The war is over and peace is coming. I could stay and help free slaves throughout Elangsia, but Garrick and Brysa will do that. And I don’t feel as if that is my calling. I don’t feel that I...” she paused and took a deep breath.

Tancred waited, keeping his face blank and hiding the dart of pain he felt at the thought of her leaving the region for good.

Exhaling, she finished, “I have no place here. I don’t think I fit in.”

“How can you think you don’t fit in?”

She turned her eyes on him. They were large and luminous, shining from her face with indescribable emotion. “I’m not Aerilyan, Tancred. This is not my home.”

“You fought for Aerilya. You’ve lived here over a year. You’ve cried and sweated and bled in Aerilya. For all practical purposes, Aerilya is your home.”

“But how can home be home without family?” she asked faintly.

Ah. That was the crux of it all then. Now that she was not distracted by being enslaved, fighting in a battle, or making war plans, her thoughts had naturally turned back to her family. The scattered Romanys. The one thing Tancred had absolutely no chance of fixing for her.

“You want to leave, then?” he questioned calmly, slightly amazed at how difficult it was to ask the simple question. And despite his even tone, he felt anything but calm.

“I don’t know,” she burst out, her voice still low but full of frustration and weariness. “I just don’t know anymore. Why should I stay? There is nothing for me to accomplish here. Why should I go? There is little chance I could find my siblings, so scattered have we become. There is no choice that has a positive outcome.”

“Why don’t you come back to Aerilya with my mother and me? You don’t need to remain with us for long if you don’t want to, but at least you would have a place to stay while you figure out what you want your next step to be. We are planning on returning to our old manor, which is certain to be rundown by now.” He spoke in a slow, even tone. “I’m going to repair it and restore my father’s lands.”

Zoe looked at him intently. Silence fell, broken only by the cool breeze that rustled through the brittle leaves on the plants. Her lashes narrowed slightly and she inquired guardedly, “Why would you want me there?”

The question caught him broadsided and for a moment, he just stared at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just see no reason for me to come with you if we’re not fighting a war anymore—”

“Zoe, how do you think I view you?” he interrupted. His mouth twisted cynically. “You make it sound as if I wouldn’t want you around if you weren’t doing something to aid me.”

She stood up quickly. “Tancred, I don’t know what to think anymore, okay? I’m sorry—it’s just confusing and...frustrating. I don’t want to talk about it.”

As if he would let the subject drop just like that. Tancred stood too. “I’m not condemning you. I’m offering you an alternative to aimless wandering and telling you that I value your friendship. Understand: Aerilya is not disowning you, Zoe. None of us are demanding that you leave.”

“Aye, but what would I do should I stay?” she asked. A sad smile flitted across her face but her tone was firm as she said, “I will not remain in a place where I am not doing something meaningful, both for me and for Deus. I would go crazy.”

He shook his head slowly. She still did not get it. “If you think I would ask you to do something against Deus’ urging, you don’t know me, Zoe.”

Her lips squeezed tightly together and her arms crossed over her chest in a familiar barrier between them. You’re always running, always defensive, he thought. What exactly are you scared of, Zoe? That you might actually get close to somebody? That you might grow to care? His chest tightened. That somebody might actually care for you?

And just where had that come from? His thoughts had followed a natural progression, yet still Tancred felt as if he had been physically punched in the gut.

It was not that he had been unaware of his feelings toward Zoe. He had known since before he first went back to Ruma with her and Jaedon that he was attracted to her. But he had definitely not counted on his attraction staying...and getting stronger.

He was the Hunter. He might be twenty-five, fully of marriageable age, but he had never had time for girls before, nor did he care about making time for them. With a life like his had been for the last thirteen years, growing close to somebody was far too dangerous to even be contemplated. When the war started, Tancred had been twelve, a mere youth who had never experienced real pain and loss. At seventeen, when his father was murdered, something had drastically changed. He grew hardened and cynical; he once had longed for vengeance to be heaped on the heads of his father’s killers and for years, he had sought to dole out that retaliation. Despite help from Jaedon and Warrick, his transition from boy into man had been completely bereft of guidance from his father.

Because of this, he had grown accustomed to binding thick plates of armor over his heart and emotions. It was better that way, shielding himself from feeling too much. If he did not have that protection, he would have turned into a raving lunatic after the first raid he participated in, when he and his comrades attacked a passing Elangsian regiment, or after seeing the scattered bodies of women and children, bloody and mutilated after an enemy battalion razed their village to the ground.

War created a harsh reality, and because of that the only women Tancred’s life revolved around were his mother and his sister. He had developed into a toughened war leader; a man, who though deeply ingrained with honor, was also ruthless when on the field of battle. He was the one the Elangsians cursed, the Aerilyans loved, and his men lauded.

There was no place in such a life for attraction to a woman. Regardless of the fact that the Hunter’s days were almost over—he prayed his days of witnessing carnage and innocent death were finished—Tancred’s personality and the traits that he had developed over the years would not disappear. He was the same man and nothing could change that fact; a warrior who had lived and occasionally almost died by the sword.

Even though his reasoning was faultless, as he stared down at Zoe, one inescapable fact overpowered his logic like a tidal wave rushing over land at a breakneck speed. It was impossible to escape it or deny it any longer, despite how many times he had done so in the past.

He loved her.

He loved Zoe Anala Romany. Everything from her sparkling deep green eyes and fiery hair to her firm convictions and ironclad spirit—he loved it all. It did not matter that he was a man of war, that he had played many different roles over the course of the war and learned to close himself off from his emotions. He loved her, and nothing could change that.

And he had absolutely no clue what to do about it.

He could think the words I love you but not utter them. After all their time together, after everything they had accomplished side-by-side, she still was not ready to hear the truth. In some ways she was still like a little girl: preferring to run away and hide when reality grew too frightening. And to Zoe, the notion of loving somebody was terrifying; an understandable feeling after what she had been through with her family.

Understandable, but also incredibly frustrating.

Deus, he prayed, still looking at Zoe. She still stood tall and silent, her face averted. She could have no idea what was going on in his head, nor what he had just realized. Tancred’s eyes closed and he exhaled deeply. Father, guide me here, please. I’m not sure exactly what You want me to do. This is territory I’m not familiar with. Show me what Your plan is.

He opened his eyes. “Zoe.”

She slowly lifted her head and met his gaze. “What, Tancred?”

Before Tancred could say anything else, a soft humming sound drifted toward them on the breeze. With each passing moment it grew steadily stronger. Recognition of the distinctive whirr immediately flooded Tancred and his form stiffened as he unconsciously braced himself. Egan.

His heart dropped, than began pounding. Hard. The only reason that Egan would come was if Kris had sent him. That or he had come of his own accord if Kris was dead...

All this flew through his brain in less than a second. In the meantime, Zoe had cocked her head and appeared to be listening. Her brows rose infinitesimally as she looked at him and murmured, “Is that...Egan?”

“Yeah.” Tancred scanned the sky, trying to suppress the dread that clamped down on his mind. He searched for the figure of the pseudo-dragon in the darkness. “Egan,” he called, raising his right arm. “I’m over here.”

A sharp clack sounded and then the long, lithe creature appeared out of the night and alighted on Tancred’s forearm. Scampering up, the pseudo-dragon’s eyes glowed at Tancred and he seemed more affectionate than usual as he hurried to rub his scaly face against Tancred’s ear and cheek.

Distracted, Tancred hardly registered the little creature’s warm greeting. “Is Kris all right?” he demanded. “Egan, is she safe?”

Egan hesitated, rearing his head back to look full in Tancred’s face. His chameleon-like properties kicked in and his scales faded from reddish-brown to a dull gray-green hue. The creature blinked twice, and then dropped his head to rest it by Tancred’s neck. He clacked once, slowly. The single word hardly registered in Tancred’s brain, so tense did he feel.

Yes.

“Thank Deus,” Tancred said, the words more part of a huge sigh than actual words. Drawing in a ragged breath, he closed his eyes and unclenched his hands. Thank You, Abba, for protecting her. Thank You.

“What happened? Tell me everything,” he said, sitting down on the bench again. Zoe quickly followed suit, her gaze trained on Egan and expression expectant.

Egan huffed and began to speak in a series of rapid clicks and hisses. Tancred fell into translating for Zoe’s benefit. “Kris and the others traveled for several days, and then found the Wild Men with their...” Tancred paused, chuckled beneath his breath, and then continued, “with their ‘nasty prince’ Jaquin. Kris led the men and they worked on undermining their defenses.”

Egan blew out a breath between his teeth, creating a funny whistling sound, and then plunged back into his narrative.

“When Ricald and his troops joined the Wild Men, Kris and Warrick continued attacking and started to turn the Elangsians against the Wild Men. Not long after that, Kris found...Travon?” Tancred stopped, bemused. “Who’s he, Egan?”

The pseudo-dragon hesitated, and then hurried to snap out an answer.

“He’s not important, and yet Kris and the men rescued him from Ricald’s camp?” asked Tancred, skeptical.

Egan nodded affirmatively.

“You know, I’m getting sick of you lying every time you report to me,” Tancred told the creature in a severe tone.

The pseudo-dragon drew back as if Tancred has struck him, his air suddenly offended. His scales were suffused with dark blue color and he growled throatily. He scampered down Tancred’s arm and slithered unto the bench in between Tancred and Zoe. Arching his neck to look up at Tancred, he sniffed out a reply.

“Yes, you are lying! What I can’t figure out is why. What did Kristalyn order you not to reveal to me?”

Egan clicked twice.

“Nothing, huh? That’s not at all believable and I swear to you I will get to the bottom of this.”

Tancred and Egan locked eyes and glared at each other, both equally stubborn. Finally Egan clacked out a quick answer.

“Travon was an Aerilyan boy captured and enslaved by Ricald?” Tancred repeated. One of his brows arched and he surveyed the dragon with a harsh, suspicious eye. “Very well, I’ll believe that,” he said at last. “Continue with the story.”

The dragon kept up a running commentary for the next few minutes, and Tancred was relatively sure that the creature stuck to the truth from then on. Zoe said nothing as she listened intently. Tancred did not think she understood what Egan was saying, but she hung unto Tancred’s translation and nodded every once in a while to show she was keeping up with the conversation.

The Wild Men had been sounded defeated. Kristalyn had faced off with Captain Ricald and now the captain was dead. That fact definitely surprised Tancred, but again, he could detect no hint of guile in Egan’s tone or appearance. Kris was tough and had participated in her share of battles and skirmishes. But killing a man like Ricald in what sounded like a move motivated by revenge was atypical for her. Nevertheless, the remainder of the Wild Men had been turned back and would not trouble Elangsia or Aerilya for quite some time, if at all. Kris and the rest of the men would follow them for a time to make sure they returned to Rulaan, and then she planned on coming back home.

By the time Egan finished relaying the news, he had climbed up Zoe’s arm and was draped around her neck and shoulders in a comfortable position that amused Tancred. Not so many months before, Egan had despised Zoe, mostly because she had taken a great deal of attention away from Egan himself, which offended the creature’s delicate sense of pride.

Zoe did not seem to mind the pseudo-dragon’s presence as she looked over at Tancred and quipped, “You happy now?”

“That my sister’s safe?” he replied with an amused and relieved chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could have met her at some point it this whole crazy war.” She smiled faintly. “From everything I’ve heard, we would probably get along great.”

He did not remember making a decision to move his hand, but the next thing Tancred knew, he was reaching forward and lightly placing his hand over Zoe’s. She froze, her eyes locked on their touching fingers. A strange, crazy thrill ran up Tancred’s arm from the contact and he struggled to keep his voice even as he spoke.

“Maybe you can meet her. Come back to Aerilya with my mother and me. Just stay at the manor until you decide what to do next. You can leave whenever you want. You’d be more than free to come and go.”

Don’t push away again, Zoe, he thought. Don’t do it.

She still looked cautious, her head bowed and her fingers tense beneath his own. At last she lifted her head and met his eyes. Her familiar green gaze looked murky in the night’s darkness, giving her a brooding appearance. Egan looked at Tancred as well, his golden eyes narrowed.

Something deep within him stirred as he looked at this girl who had challenged, frustrated, and aided him so much over the last year. They had both come a long way since their first, extremely hostile encounter. But had they come far enough?

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She could not breathe. It was something that should be simple, seeing as she had done it her entire life. And yet when his hand had covered hers, a jolt had raced through her heart and seemingly incapacitated her lungs and her tongue. It was a feeling absolutely, utterly foreign to Zoe and she felt like she was flying. Or drowning. Or both.

Deus? What is this? she cried out with desperation.

Why did she feel like this around him? Why did she feel as if she wanted to know him better, to know his thoughts? Who exactly was this complex man who had worn so many faces over the course of this war? She had always been just Zoe when around him—nothing more and nothing less. But he, on the other hand, had been Cormac Alstair, the cool, calculating merchantman; then he turned into the Hunter of Mairbrac, Aerilya’s noble benefactor; and finally, he also was Tancred Ralyn, an enigmatic puzzle that still served to confuse her at every turn despite the months she had spent with him.

Which one was he today? Cormac? Tancred? The Hunter? Would she ever know?

It was so much more comfortable irritating him, or sword fighting with him, or staying far away and detached while around him. Remaining close like this, with emotions roiling just beneath the surface, screamed of danger.

Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you remain unreadable and arrogant, like when I met you? She could fight with Cormac all day, but she did not know how long she could withstand Tancred’s steady, alluring compassion.

It was all too confusing. Somehow she knew the answers she needed were lurking, right there for her to discover if she just opened her mouth and asked him. But she could not ask. Whenever she opened herself up to others, they were hurt; like Lance and his foolish infatuation with her. Or taken away; like her family. Or killed; like Jaedon. I can’t do that to you or to me, Tancred. I won’t. She would rather die than to suffer through the soul-searing pain that she had already experienced all over again.

His hand still touched hers. It felt like his fingers were alight with hot fire that was branding her skin. The sensation took her breath away.

She slid her hand out from beneath his. No. She could not go back to Aerilya with him. Definitely not. She had to get out of here. Away from him.

Just as she opened her mouth to refuse Tancred’s invitation, Deus’ familiar prodding fell on her, stifling her words and taking her breath away with the force of the heavenly command.

No, Little One.

The command was gentle, but final. Zoe knew deep in her heart that she could not argue with it. With Him.

Stop running, Daughter. Go to Aerilya. Stay. Rest. Draw near to me and I will draw near to you.

“All right,” she murmured, half to Deus and half to Tancred. She looked up and met the still steady gaze of the tall man sitting beside her.

The second their eyes connected, fresh doubts and fears rose up and washed over her. Deus, you’re killing me, she inwardly moaned. Why must I submit to this? Can’t I rest and draw near to you somewhere far away from him? Nevertheless, she silenced her inner voice and managed to tell Tancred in a semi-level voice, “I’ll come to Aerilya with you and Lady Shyla. But just until I know what Deus wants me to do next.”

“When the time is right,” he told her in a low tone, “He will tell you exactly what to do.”

His expression was impossible to decipher. Zoe held his gaze bravely, though she had a sinking feeling that he was assessing all her turmoil and agony through her eyes, as usual. Or maybe, by some blessing from Deus, he was just confused by the mass of emotions he saw. She was terrified. She was hopeful. She was confused. She was oddly thrilled.

In fact, she had no idea what she was anymore.

Swallowing hard, she reached up and stroked Egan gently. Her lashes closed and she tried to get a handle on her emotions. She sighed.

Deus, I hope you know what you’re doing.