No one in sight. No movement anywhere near the dell.
His attention drifted back to Tareek. “Where are the others?”
“Hunting. We’ve no wish to deplete Cosmina’s winter stores.”
Good plan. Particularly since he couldn’t stand the thought of Cosmina suffering. He wanted her hale and whole, with enough to eat after he left, not hungry in the dead of winter. “And Thea?”
“So besotted with Kazim, she’s allowed us free reign.” Henrik snorted in amusement. Tareek’s lips twitched. “The Persian is handy to have around. I’ve no wish to be held prisoner by the Limwoods again.”
The tidbit tweaked his curiosity. Henrik raised a brow. “Again?”
“Long story. Not important.” With a shrug, Tareek waved a hand in dismissal, then frowned, and glanced toward the trailhead. “’Tis a dangerous game you are playing, fratele.”
No question. Without a doubt. “I know what I am doing.”
“Be sure, Henrik. The Blessed is not your usual fare. You like her . . .”
Henrik snorted. Right. Like. ’Twas too mild a word for what he felt for Cosmina. Obsessive. Possessive. Consumed. Neck-deep in trouble without the necessary tools to pull himself free. Pick one. Apply them all. No matter how hard he fought, the truth couldn’t be denied. He craved her to the point of witlessness.
“She has her claws in you. You enjoy her company too much.” Tareek palmed his shoulder and squeezed. The gentle pump put him on edge. He didn’t want to talk about it, but resistance always proved futile when Tareek latched on. His friend loved him. Wanted to protect him and, like it or nay, Henrik returned the sentiment. So forget telling Tareek to shut his mouth and mind his own business. It wouldn’t happen. “’Twill be hard for you to leave her when ’tis time to go.”
“Not even a little,” he said, lying through his teeth.
His friend treated him to a sharp look. “Cosmina knows she cannot come with us, aye?”
“She knows.”
“Good.” Nodding in approval, Tareek shifted gears, changing the subject. “Any progress with the Goddess of All Things?”
Henrik shook his head. “She is not answering my summons.”
“Huh.” Tareek pursed his lips. A thoughtful look in his eyes, he glanced across the clearing. His gaze narrowed on the trail to the hot spring. “Mayhap you’ve no need of the goddess.”
His thoughtful tone got Henrik’s attention. Tareek was always full of ways to get around a problem. “Lay it out.”
“Who told you the bastards are called the Druinguari?”
“Cosmina, after the attack in High Temple.”
“So . . .”
“Shit,” he muttered, following his friend’s train of thought. “You think Cosmina knows how to kill them.”
“Stands to reason. She is an oracle, H . . . a Seer of unprecedented power.”
“She would have told me, Tareek. Cosmina isn’t the sort to hold back. She knows I need that information. She wouldn’t . . .” He trailed off as an idea sparked to life. Tareek raised a brow. Henrik exhaled in a rush, the epiphany hitting him like a lightning bolt. “Unless she has no idea that she knows.”
“Exactly.”
Made sense. On so many levels.
He understood Cosmina’s struggle. Her frustration too. She didn’t receive all the information at once. That, however, didn’t mean she didn’t possess all the pieces. It simply meant she couldn’t fit enough of them together at any one time, which made it difficult for her to interpret the whole.
And that left him with no out . . . and only one option. “Goddamn it.”
“You were given the gift of Thrall for a reason, Henrik. ’Tis time to put your talent to good use.” Tareek slapped his shoulder, his palm cracked against his leather tunic, shredding the quiet, echoing across the clearing. “Read her mind, my friend. Control the mental scope to find the truth, and we will—”
“Discover the bastards’ weakness,” he said, finishing his friend’s sentence while hating the implications.
The last thing he wanted to do was to use Thrall and invade Cosmina’s mind. ’Twas the worse sort of betrayal, a terrible breach of trust. But as he shrugged off Tareek’s hold, Henrik knew his friend was right. He couldn’t obtain the information he needed any other way. The goddess refused to answer. Cosmina didn’t know that she knew, so . . . no way around, through, or over it. He must face reality head-on and come to terms with necessity.
No matter how much he disliked it.
His comrades were counting on him. Life or death. Love and loyalty. His mission’s success or failure depended on his ability to discover the enemy’s weakness. Which left him nowhere to hide and even less room to run. It needed to be done, and he must be the one to do it. But as Tareek left his side and retreated to the middle of the dell, Henrik’s sense of fair play squawked. Goddamn the goddess and her selfish ways. Her neglect had brought him here . . . to the point of no return, a place that made his heart ache and his soul burn. And yet he stood still and silent, without a counterargument as he watched Tareek shift into dragon form and take to the sky—wings spread wide, red scales flashing in the gloom, snowflakes awhirl in his wake.
Christ, what a choice. What a terrible, indefensible choice.
Betray the woman he cared about or watch his brothers-in-arms die at the hands of Halál and the Druinguari. The magnitude of it weighed on him, but that didn’t stop him. He turned toward the trailhead instead and, conscience in tatters, walked across the clearing, toward the hot spring and Cosmina, his heart growing heavier with every step he took.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Twilight descended like a prayer, quiet and sure of itself as Cosmina watched clear skies give way to wispy clouds and the coming night. The magic hour. Not yet dark, still enough light to see by—a place in time where enchantment lived and anything was possible. Chest deep in the hot spring, warm water lapping at her shoulders, she hummed. Such a fanciful thought. Laughable in many ways, but accurate nonetheless. She’d always felt the most grounded at dusk. ’Twas as though the world opened up, revealing the chasm between light and dark, where contrasts ruled and contradictions blended, becoming compatible for a time.
Just like her and Henrik.
Tipping her head back, Cosmina dipped her hair beneath the surface, wetting the thick strands, her gaze on the smooth stones surrounding the small pool. Body calm, her mind drifted, but remained tethered to one thing. Or rather, one man. Henrik. He was like twilight, a study in contradictions—dark and dangerous one moment, gentle and caring the next. It would’ve confused her had she not understood him so well. She knew what drove him. Had spent enough time with him talking and touching—loving him while trying not to lose her heart—to know his mission was important . . . and in no way included her.
She’d picked that tidbit up from Tareek. Easy enough to do. Derision had been written all over the dragon-warrior’s face. He disapproved of her liaison with Henrik. A wise man with the proper sentiment, no doubt. Too bad she didn’t care. She wanted Henrik too much to do the smart thing. Cosmina sighed. The right thing . . . the best thing . . . the safest thing. She knew what each of those entailed: her walking away from Henrik . . . this instant. But even as intellect set out the path and realization dawned, she refused to heed it. She possessed limited time with him. Not nearly enough to suit her, so . . .