Pixilated by Jane Atchley Page B

his bad throat, or maybe because
of it, Kree excelled at mimicry. He affected Eldren’s haughty sharp
accent. "He is a prince of Thallasi. Do I need another reason?"
    The censure under his mocking tone shocked
her, and she recalled Eldren’s words. The man hates our
race . "So is my father."
    Kree’s language changed, became that of the
coarsest foot-solider. "Horse shit!" His eyes, fierce as twin jade
dragons, met hers, but his voice was breathy, soft, almost gentle.
"Your father is a man, little girl, a round-ear just like me.
Thallasi had no use for him when he needed them, and if they claim
him now, it’s because they covet his glory not because he is a
quarter-elf. Heaven knows they haven’t had any glory of their own
in the last several millennia."
    He jerked his head in Eldren’s direction.
"He thinks because elves live for thousands of years it somehow
makes them superior to mere humans. But I don’t see it. I am only
four and thirty, and I’ve done more to affect the world I live in
than most elves ever do. Look at him. His big mission in life is to
deliver a little girl into a marriage she probably doesn’t want, to
a male she has never met, and he can’t even do that without my
help. By Namar’s sweet breath, little girl, I’ve never met one of
the pointy-eared snobs I’d give you two copper ladies for and that
is a solid fact."
    While he joined Chana to inspect the trail
ahead, Kayseri adjusted the dark curls concealing her own pointy
ears. "Why is My Captain bothering to help him?"
    Kree straightened slowly, turned, and looked
at her. "Now, you didn’t give me much choice about that did you?"
His temper sparked again. He wiped his hand on his britches and
expelled a long breath. "Because children are children, and no one
has the right to hurt a child. Not on my watch. Not in my
territory. And because it’s politically expedient." He swung back
into the saddle.
    "You’re looking a little wrung out." Kree
ran the knuckles of his right hand along the curve of her cheek.
His touch was so tender she almost burst into tears. "Hold on just
a little while longer, and then you can take a bubble bath and
sleep for a week."
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Directly overhead twin suns beat down on
Kree's party. Wiping his forehead on his arm, he stole a glance at
his Wilderkin companions. Kayseri and Eldren had their heads bent
close, one midnight dark and the other moonlight pale. They were
doing it again, that thing they did, that thing so precious Kayseri
would not speak of it to him. She had picked Eldren over him time
after time since the elf arrived on the scene. He should be happy.
It solved all his Kayseri problems, but by Namar's bloody tears, he
wanted her to pick him. This made him feel foolish and it made him
angry. For reasons the captain did not want to examine, he found
himself awash in reckless raging white-hot fury for which he had no
outlet. He did not even know with whom he was angrier. Eldren.
Kayseri. Himself. He was pathetic.
    His craving for Goddess nectar screamed
through his veins louder than it had in years. Three drops of that
golden elixir and he’d be flying high, mind and body humming with
sharp clear singularity of purpose. Just three drops and he would
feel the sharp fighting edge he remembered so well, an edge that
for all his skill, he knew he lacked without it.
    Deprivation burned through every pore,
evoking a memory so sweet, he reached into his kit for the little
vial he kept there. A token, he told himself, kept as a symbol of
his freedom. This was a lie. He kept his Goddess nectar because one
day his own strength would not be enough to save those he loved.
Kree heaved a sigh. Today was not that day. He would not become
Goddess bound again when all he needed was a little
self-discipline. Kree slipped the tiny vial back into his kit, and
kicked up his pace, bringing Sirocco to a canter.
    Where the trail forked to the left, he
stopped to allow the others to come abreast. A