The Last Tritan Ch. 21

"Don't be ridiculous, Mila. I'm not having her arrested."

"You're not—what?" I gaped at him, unable to find more eloquent words. "But she's—"

"Dangerous? Yes, you've said." He stretched his long legs out before him, lips curving in a tight smile. "That's why she's going to remain here."

"You can't be serious," I whispered, gathering my feet beneath me. "I'm not staying under the same roof as—"

"Think about it, Mila," Asher said, lunging forward to snare me in his unbreakable grip before I could break away. "You've just been handed a traitor to your people, all dressed in a perfect little bow. And the best part," he purred, pulling me closer, breath warming my cool cheeks, "Is that she doesn't know she's lost the advantage." I tilted my head to the side, belatedly insuring Tyra wasn't listening at the door. "So what should you do, hm? Turn her in before she can cause any trouble? Or," he brushed a tangled clump of hair off my forehead, "Wait for her to reveal herself and the details of her plan?"

"That's ..." I frowned. It was brilliant, really, but ... "That leaves us vulnerable, Asher. Open to a sneak attack. How are we supposed to get any rest with that woman lurking just down the hall, huh?"

He snorted. "And what are you expecting her to do, Mila? Attack you here, in your sleep?"

"Why wouldn't she? Have you forgotten what it will mean if she manages to kill either of us? The rebels will have their validation, Asher."

Shaking his head, Asher laughed, the deep rumble vibrating through my chest. "She wouldn't dare."

I bared my teeth at his stupidity, glaring at him in the dark. "You're underestimating her just because she's a woman. Don't be an idiot. Neither of us is going to be able to get any sleep with her here."

Grumbling under his breath, Asher stood then moved to his desk, withdrawing a small glass jar from the top drawer. Then, without looking up from his task, he measured a spoonful of white powder into a glass, splashed it with a liberal amount of his trademark amber liquor, and returned to my side. "Here, drink this."

I accepted the mixed drink with a scowl marking my face. "What the hell is it?"

"It will help you sleep."

My jaw slackened and I met his eyes with a gasp. "Your solution is to drug me?" I pushed the glass back into his hand, intending to splash him with the offensive gesture—but he moved with me, rocking the glass to prevent it from going to waste. "You may as well just knock me out and toss me at Tyra's feet, you bloody—"

"You won't be senseless. It's a dose I'd be comfortable giving to a newborn. It'll just ... make you drowsy, that's all."

"You've lost your mind, if you think—"

"It's either that or stimulants."

"Why can't she stay with one of the other Elites? She'd still be under thumb, and with someone who could handle it if she tries anything." I snapped my fingers. "And if she does manage to kill one of them, the rebels will know their plan won't work ... though, obviously that's not ideal ..." I blushed, realizing how callous that sounded only after the words had left my mouth. "It's a good compromise."

"Maybe," he allowed, setting the glass on his bedside table. "But it's not happening. Asking her to leave for no apparent reason would be suspicious in the extreme, and I'm not willing to risk losing this opportunity for a few nights of lost sleep." He stood, brushed the crease out of his pants, then said, "I'll speak with Lieutenant General Hastings tomorrow morning. If you're right and Tyra is here to prove herself to the rebels, we'll come up with a counter attack."

"But—" I shifted onto my knees, pressing the sheets to my throat as I went. "You can't bring him here, Asher. He's an Elite ..." I trailed off, finding the inky carpet far more interesting than the handsome features of the man standing before me. "I won't be able to resist ..."

He blew out a noisy breath. "Fuck. I guess not. And I can't bring you to him for the same reason."

"If you leave me here with her, I ... I can't promise ..."

"I know."

"So what's the solution?" I asked, running my tongue over my elongated canines. "We have to tell someone."

Asher crossed his arms and pressed long fingers to his lips, head tilting to the side as he thought. "Well," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You could just go back to sleep ..."

"Don't even say it," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I'm not taking any sedatives, you moron. What if she tries something while you're gone?" Asher snorted but didn't voice the scorn I could feel radiating off him. "Oh!" I cried, snapping my fingers. "Marco. Marco's the solution."

"I'm not following."

"He and I were alone for several days, and he's still here to be bitter about it. What's a few more hours? Besides, he's the only one who knows everything about ...this." I said, fluttering my fingers in the space between us. "He could stay downstairs and occupy Trya while I stay up here, out of temptation's path."

"Not bad," Asher said, dark eyes traveling over my face. "While I'm gone, I can check in with you using the Chains."

"'Kay."

"Good. Come here," he said, pulling me to my feet.

Scrambling to keep the sheets wrapped around my nudity, I asked, "Why?" in a fragile voice.

"I'm correct in assuming you don't intend to sleep tonight?" At this, I nodded, glancing at the door, causing a deep sigh to skate along the back of my neck. "Thought so. Might as well get ready for the day." Without a backward glance, he disappeared into his closet, grumbling under his breath.

"You're mad," I said, following him with small, uncertain steps, ready to bolt for the door if his mood should shift.

A deep, humorless chuckle preceded his return from the closet, a length of black silk draped over his left arm. "What's the point of being angry with you, Mila? What purpose will it serve, hmm? You would have waited until she was in this very house to tell me either way."

I opened my mouth to respond but realized he was right. My chin dropped.

"Exactly. It's a waste of energy." With an expert hand, he wrapped the slave garment around me, allowing me to keep my modesty hidden as he worked. "Step out of that," he said when he'd finished securing it, tugging at the bulky sheet. Not wanting to provoke him further, I did as he asked, shifting and wiggling to pull the second layer of fabric away.

When I was finished, Asher produced a gold chain with a delicate pendant, placing it between my breasts with a thoughtful tilt to his head. "W-what are you doing?"

"Well," he murmured, reaching behind my neck to loosen the ties of my dress, holding the scraps of fabric in place with his palm when I gasped. "You can't leave this room with your new jewelry on display, so we have to improvise." And with that, he looped the tails of fabric around the golden chain then crossed the ends, securing both the pendant and the front of my dress in the process. Next, he pulled the pendant through the gap so it sat high on my breastbone, gleaming in the half light. My eyes widened—it was the very necklace I'd found in his closet when I'd been packing my bag of supplies before my escape, the one that looked so similar to the Tritan symbol for Priestess.

Focused on his task, Asher guided one of the silk tails around my right bicep, hiding my illegal Control Chain beneath. "Ingenious," I breathed as he did the same on my left bicep, tucking the ends away.

"Yeah, thanks. I've been thinking about how to hide that for the last few days."

"So," I said, dragging out the single syllable longer than necessary. "Since being angry with me is a waste of energy ..." I dug my toes into the plush carpet beneath my feet, "I saw something else that might be important."

"Of course you did," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well ... as you know, I've been inside the rebel's fortress."

"Get to the point."

I picked at the gold on my right wrist, trying to ignore the sweat gathering along my hair line. "I don't know about you, but while I was inside the mountain, it was really hard for me to sense you."

"I felt the same thing."

"I thought you may have," I whispered, taking a step back.

"Mila," he growled, invading my personal space in an instant.

But I threw my hands between us and blurted, "I've seen the one thing they don't want you to know about."

"Which is what?"

"It's a shield. Exactly like the one you shot at in the field the night we were first bound, only ... this one is bigger."

"How much bigger?"

"It covers the entrance to the tunnels, and unless you're willing to blast a path through solid rock, you're not getting through." Deep lines formed between his brows, and I continued before he could say anything, my voice breathy and strained. "But I know how their shield works. I saw it. O-or rather ... him." I broke eye contact, shoulders sagging.

"Meaning?"

"It's a boy. An Elite boy. They've got him locked up in a filthy little cage, forcing him to power the shield ... and," I shivered, fingernails digging into the meat of my palms, drawing strength from the pain, "And I left him there. I—I had too. He ... his energy. I tried—but I couldn't—"

"You saved his life by leaving, Mila."

I snorted. "I didn't do a damn thing."

"You're the one who walked away."

"Maybe," I allowed. "But I'm being honest, I was going to kill him. I would have enjoyed it." I shivered, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because ... you stopped me."

"Ah," he rumbled, and took a step closer to me, warming me with his proximity. "I see."

I peeked at up at him through my lashes, trying to read him. "That ... that was you, wasn't it?"

"I believe so. I couldn't figure out what you were doing at the time, or why I was struck with the inexplicable desire to drain the life from my best friend and everyone else around me. But I knew it was coming from you."

The muscles of my jaw flexed. "I—I'm sorry."

His shoulder lifted. "What for? I felt the intensity of your ... desire, Mila. That's why we're training—so that you can learn to fight it."

"Asher ..." I said, pressing my lips together. "It's going to take years to learn that kind of control. If it's even possible for me to do so at all. How much longer can we stay hidden away up here? How much longer can you put off your duties? I can't be around anyone b-but you without—"

"Then don't think of it that way," he said easily, brushing his fingers along the edge of my collar bone. "We've got an advantage for the first time, Mila. Look forward, not back."

"Well aren't you the perfect little optimist?" I grumbled, glaring at the floor as he chuckled. "Right." I cleared my throat, trying to hide the blush heating my cheeks. "You said something about stimulants?"





The sun had risen by the time Asher managed to figure out how to brew a pot of coffee, cursing the complicated looking machine and spilling black powder all over the kitchen counter. I'd been happy to watch, perched on the end of the counter, legs swinging as he struggled. Tyra, as far as I could tell, was sound asleep at the far end of the house, dreaming of revenge or whatever evil plot was lurking in her twisted heart.

"Here," Asher said, passing me a steaming mug, which I inspected with a curled lip. "I didn't put anything in it, Mila. Mixing coffee and sedatives doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"There's no such thing as too cautious," I replied, taking a sip of the scalding drink. "Bleh! This is horrid," I coughed, tongue lolling, nose wrinkled.

"Excuse me," Marco scoffed, strolling into the kitchen, lips tilted in a confident smirk. "But such blasphemy shouldn't be tolerated under your roof, Asher." And without pausing, he liberated the mug of coffee from my fingers and took a deep swallow, followed by a theatrical sigh. "I'll happily punish your little night terror. Just say the word."

I grinned, exposing my canines. "You're more than welcome to try, Marco. I've so missed our evenings together. They were so ..." I paused to savor Marco's grimace then said, "... invigorating."

Asher snorted, poured two more cups, added a healthy spoon of sugar and a splash of cream to the mug on the left, then handed me the modified beverage. "Try that."

Marco grunted as I took a leery sip. To my complete shock, he used my distraction to brush the hair off my shoulder. The unexpected contact made me jump and I cringed away, sloshing milky, tepid coffee all over my exposed knee. "Good to see you two are getting along," Marco drawled, fingers trailing over a tender spot on my shoulder before I could twist away.

"For fucksakes, Marco," Asher growled, blotting my knee with a tea towel and taking the coffee from my stiff fingers.

I, on the other hand, was craning my neck in an effort to understand both his comment and dull ache his touch had exposed. When I found it my cheeks burned hot, and I pulled my hair over my shoulder, unable to raise my eyes, toying with silvery ends in shaking fingers. The angle of the raised skin, coupled with the slight pink coloration left no question to how and when I'd come by those marks—or more importantly, who had put them there.

Asher stepped forward, his hip bumping the table between my thighs. Although he faced Marco his fingers lingered on my knee, stroking the sticky residue and warm skin left behind by the coffee. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Marco chuckled. "Yes, sir. I certainly do. And you'd be lost without me." Moving to the sink to deposit his empty cup among the other dirty dishes, Marco missed the glare Asher tossed his way. "You have to put up with me as payment for dragging me out of bed at this hour, rambling some nonsense about a traitor."

With a sideways glance at me, Asher said, "Can you sense her?"

Frowning to block out those closest to me, I searched the upper floor until I found the thready trail I'd come to associate with Tyra, and nodded.

"Good. Keep your attention on her while I fill him in. I don't want any unwanted listeners."

Tipping my head to the side, in the direction of Tyra's room, I pushed Asher's hand away from me, needing to be free of his touch to better focus on my task. "She's the only other one in the house?" I asked, and it was Asher's turn to nod, his dark eyes also focused on the ceiling, brows creased in concentration. "Then she's sleeping. Talk away."

"That's fuckin' creepy," Marco muttered, rubbing the gooseflesh off his wiry forearms.

"Maybe. But it's useful." Trusting my senses over his own, Asher pivoted, leaning against the counter to my left, close enough to warm my thigh without touching me. "My late cousin's wife is a person of interest."

Marco's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Holy shit. How sure are you?"

"I'm meeting the Lieutenant General in the next hour."

"Holy shit," he said again, looking in the direction Asher and I had indicated. "How do you know? What did she do?"

"I can't say how I know," Asher replied, glancing at me. "But I've got it on good authority this person was overheard divulging sensitive information to a group of people who might have the resources to do something about it."

Marco's dark eyes found mine, flicked back to Asher's face, then he nodded once. "Understood. What's the plan?"

"We don't know the specifics," Asher admitted, again chewing at the patch of hair below his lower lip. "But we know the targets." He collected my cold fingers and held up my hand, tapping the golden circlet embedded in my wrist before releasing me.

"Targets? Plural?"

Nod. "We're under the impression the third party needs evidence to go forward," he gestured at the space separating us, then drew his finger across his throat. "Which is why you're here. This one can't be around the other Elites for the time being, due to—"

"I remember," Marco interrupted, shooting me a dark look.

"And I can't leave for my meeting without some insurance of my own."

"Understood," Marco repeated, nodding. Features set in a cold mask, Marco stepped forward, pulling his weapon free of its holster then handing it to Asher whose touch caused it to glow with a fierce, green light for a moment before he passed it back.

"There shouldn't be any problems," Asher continued, jerking his thumb at me. "This one will be upstairs keeping out of the way while you're entertaining my guest."

"You trust your source?" Marco asked, arms crossed over his chest.

For his part, Asher didn't hesitate. "I do."

"Then I'm with you."

"Good." He turned toward me. "Mila?"

"She's quiet," I murmured, not meeting his eyes.

Asher pushed my cup of coffee back into my hands, then said, "Finish this while I find something to eat."





After breakfast, Asher saw me back to our rooms, locking the door behind him then sliding the key under the gap should I need to defend myself or escape. Nothing had been said before he left, no important last words, meaningful glances, or comforting gestures were needed. We had a plan, and if it went as expected, Tyra would still be in bed before he returned with the support of his superiors. I was determined to prove I could be useful, could be more than a liability in a delicate situation—but that didn't stop me from glaring in the direction of the guest room, senses locked on the traitor slumbering down the hall.

Every time I felt her stir I retreated, terrified that I was thrusting my anxiety into her sleeping mind, sightless eyes fixed on the wall, heart pounding until she drifted off again. It was only a matter of time before she woke—there were, after all, innocent women to be murdered, evil plots to be set in motion. None of which could happen if she slept the day away. That, and part of me was hoping she'd try something devious to prove my suspicions correct, if for no other reason than to confirm that my time within the rebel mountain hadn't been a figment of my imagination.

The Watchers were agitated and had been trying to connect with my mind since I'd finished eating breakfast, but I hadn't let them through until Asher had gone. Their combined presence had flooded my mind the instant I'd relaxed my guard, comfortable only because of my solitude, ever leery of Asher discovering them. Or not. I shrugged, chewing my thumbnail to the quick as I watched the woman beyond the door. Asher had to accept me—crazy or not. He no longer had a choice.

"Watch where you're going!" an unfamiliar voice bellowed from the street below, echoing through the narrow alley behind Asher's house. My head whipped to the side with a startled gasp, and I darted to the window to see who was making such a racket.

"Me?" Came the indignant reply of a tall, dark haired woman flanked by two sandy haired male slaves. "I'm not the one stupid enough to bring an undisciplined slave in public, peasant."

A portly man rounded the corner, his large belly preceding his every step. "Peasant, am I?" he snarled, clenching his fists at his sides as a beautiful young woman scrambled to gather a basket of spilled fruit. I could see her fingers trembling from where I stood.

One of the Caledonian woman's slaves stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the slight girl kneeling on the ground, half a dozen oranges filling her thin arms. "Leon, get back here," she snapped, slapping his chest with a bejeweled hand. "Let the clumsy twit clean up after herself."

"Yes, Mistress."

My lip curled, but I was not given the chance to formulate the exact nature of my disgust with Caledonian slave owners, as the racket in the street had succeeded in doing the one thing I'd spent the last two hours hoping would not come to pass.

Tyra was awake.

In that moment, I was so focused on her that I felt her stretch the sleep from her limbs, almost shivered when her bare feet touched the cold floor. The dispute unfolding on the street below could no longer hold my interest the way she could. Voices, which a moment before had held the entirety of my attention were no longer audible as I listened to the soft fall of feet coming down the hall. Had she no need of the toilet upon waking? Was she so intent on her foul mission that she couldn't take the time to relieve herself? I bared my teeth, backing away from the door on silent feet.