The Dream Crafter(86)

He shrugged it off. “It’s a nothing price to pay, to be with Amana.”

“I thought you would say that.” She raised up, kissed him on the forehead as though bestowing a benediction. “Be happy.”

Merc opened his eyes, and the difference in his body from earlier was staggering. There was no pain, no smell of blood or coppery taste on his tongue. He stood, to be hit full force with Amana jumping into his arms, and only long training kept them both standing.

She was kissing him, everywhere she could reach, joy and thanks in the motion, and he returned it, never knowing until that moment how difficult it could be to kiss someone with a smiling mouth.

Merc pulled back to look at her, to take in the teal blue of her eyes, but it wasn’t the color that hit him straight in the heart. It was the clarity, the absence of fear. How her eyes were smiling. How her face was free from worry. “Amana?”

“I’m okay now.”

Certainty settled in him. She was. They were. And the Spellbook sang its agreement.

“Hem.” The over-exaggerated throat clearing by a squeaky voice broke them apart. “He-llo. Can we replace the fabric of reality, if you don’t mind?”

In a soft wave, sand became smooth and fixed asphalt, blue sky became dark buildings, and the smell of the ocean no longer lingered in the air.

Amana reached out to Nakoa, her smile a permanent fixture, and she held them both to her. “Nakoa, this is Merc.”

They eyed each other, and this would be more difficult, learning to navigate sharing Amana with her brother, but his choice was her, and they would figure it out. Nakoa looked him up and down for a moment, then stuck out his hand. The man’s grip was twice as strong as it needed to be.

As a trio, they began to move before Amana pulled up short, horror on her face. “Wait, what about Fallon?”

The smaller woman from earlier made a face, shrugged. “She’s somewhere. C’mon, I’m hungry.”

*

Merc was holding Amana close as they walked away, though Amana refused to let go of Nakoa’s hand. Nakoa kept glancing at Merc, while Laire kept glancing at Nakoa’s butt. If any of them felt the presence of the male who stood studying them from the shadows of the faraway building, none of them made any movement to suggest such a possibility. The male was tall and broad, hair short, skin dark and eyes bronze, both his body and his jaw square and strong.

“You’re not thinking anything you shouldn’t be thinking, are you Cashric?” Fallon made her own appearance, stepping out from a side street to come beside the man.

The solemn male made no move towards her, made no jump to suggest she startled him. He kept his attention on the group, though he spoke to her in measured tones. “You are truly contemplating letting her live free in the world?”

Fallon’s hands came to her hips as she looked to the group, now with the two men posturing and beginning a subtle fight for Amana’s attention. “Free is a relative term. She’ll be under our watch of course, and don’t tell me your followers won’t have their spies clued on her at all times.”

Humor flashed on the male’s face before it returned to its original grave state. “I believe you mean to say priests.”

“Splitting hairs.”

The group was now out of sight before they could tell if the men would start pulling Amana in a ridiculous tug-of-war contest. With them gone, he turned to face her, those inhuman eyes giving off a subtle glow. “And if I was to agree with your thinking, what would keep her under control?”

“That’s simple – Merc.” The bronze-eyed male looked dubious, rumbles of power flickering in lazy waves around him. At her shoulder, Tenro vibrated, magic coiling tight around itself. “I know you hold no stock in human emotions, but sometimes they’re true. She fought through ten years of hell, all out of loyalty to her brother. That’s the steel she’s made of. And now she is in love with that man. We give her a stretch of beach to reside in, let her alone with her brother and Merc beside her, and she’s not going to want anything else.”

“They always want something else.”

“Not her. That’s not what she is. If it was, she’d have explored her powers as soon as she realized what she could do. She could have justified with a sentence or two – revenge, unfairness, teaching them all a lesson. None of it is what she did.”

His massive arms crossed over his chest, the midnight black skin gleaming under the full moon. “What is it you want from her?”

Fallon lifted her chin, the gold of her eyes bright and clear as they clashed with the bronze of his. “I want her as she is now, protector of the Guardian of the Spellbook. There is no safer place for Merc or the Spellbook than to be under her guard. We’ll know both of them are safe, and we’ll also have Merc and Amana’s loyalty to us.”