Warrior's Touch (Deadly Touch book 2)

Jonas did as he was told.

He lifted dumbbells, bench-pressed weights, and ran on Braph’s treadmill for hours every day. And every day Braph tested his progress in mock battles. Jonas’s military training didn’t go to waste. Although he’d never before been the underdog himself, he’d taught many of the few non-Karan Quaven soldiers in his years to know a few moves.

But Braph was a fast learner and Jonas usually only got to use a trick once before his brother anticipated it and gave him another hiding. Braph never beat him quite as he had at the farm, but it was enough to bolster Jonas’s confidence for the coming fight. If he could survive a few rounds with Braph, with his Karan speed and strength, even land some of his own punches, then he could survive a few skirmishes with Turhmosian soldiers.

What he didn’t know was if his resilience to the Aenuk touch had gone with his strength and speed. If so, without his Syakaran knife to strike a deathblow, he was a dead man almost as soon as he stood against an Aenuk. Then again, with a Syakaran knife, he would be a dead man if he got the strike wrong. He wasn’t fast enough to correct mistakes.

Didn’t matter much if he was good enough or not, though, did it? Braph had it all worked out.

Up before dawn to exercise and build muscle, Jonas helped feed Joelin breakfast and played with him until his morning sleep, at which time Jonas and Braph sparred until lunch. Joelin’s afternoon sleep gave Jonas the chance to shadowbox his way through the growing throbs from Braph’s beating.

He lifted spoonfuls of soup or stew to his son’s lips with a hand shaking from the pain in his shoulder or peered at him through an eye swollen half-shut after a brutal bout. And yet, sometimes he thought he was the happiest he’d ever been.

Only one thing could make it better.

When his injuries were especially severe, he sat back in the rocking chair and watched Orinia with her son while Joelin slept. She engaged herself fully in Orin’s care, asking him about his life in the house, or showing great interest in his lessons. Braph hadn’t neglected the boy’s needs, that much was evident. He knew his lessons and seemed like an open, happy child.

It was difficult to align the attentive father with the rapist and murderer, and as tricky to tease apart the layers of Braph’s relationship with Llew’s heavily pregnant ma. Braph treated her gently and was alert to all her needs, helping her from chairs and bringing her food and drink, despite having staff to do it. Sneaking in caresses and kisses, Braph seemed a man in love.

Jonas watched Orinia for signs of the same, or opposite. Which would be better?

She smiled when Braph came close. She thanked him when he helped her, and not in a way limited to politeness. She looked on Braph with genuine appreciation, maybe even love. She never looked fearful, and she allowed her touch to linger on Braph’s arm when he left to return to his studies and political intrigue. If Jonas didn’t know better, he would think her happy.

Did he know better?

“No beating today.” Braph smirked over the rim of his morning tea. “Aris has been sniffing around the palace again. I’ve made certain he knows you’re here. In Duffirk. Wouldn’t want him showing up here here. The fight is scheduled for three days hence. And we wouldn’t want you going in bruised and battered to begin with, would we?”

They sat at the two-seater table in Braph’s kitchen. Llew had once sat in the chair Jonas now occupied to drink his coffee.

Orinia rested in a cushioned chair in the corner, eyes closed; by all appearances sleeping, while Maura led Orin in his lessons. They had all vacated the nursery for Joelin’s morning sleep.

“Just Aris?” Jonas stirred his coffee in slow circles. He took neither milk nor sugar, but it gave his hand something to do.

Braph nodded. “The body of an unidentified female was found at the Eton Aenuk massacre last week.”

Jonas lifted his brows and took a sip of coffee. So Karlani was dead. A Syakaran in a hive of Aenuks: dead. What chance did Jonas have?

“How many Aenuk camps are there?” he asked.

“After your rampage last year and these two by Aris? The palace is all that’s left. Hence the heavy military presence.”

“Don’t let him near Llew.” Jonas stopped stirring. “Other Aenuks have the power to take Aris’s. She’s the only one knows how, if she gets the chance. You got to get them to an Ajnai, somehow.”

“There is another way.” Braph sipped his tea, glancing sideways at Jonas, from an eye crinkled at the corner. “And I’ll be taking my opportunity with me.” His gaze shifted to where Orin sat at a wooden desk, his back to them as he pored over his lessons.

Jonas didn’t hide his surprise from Braph.

The son of a Syaenuk and a Karan.

“Is he …?”

Braph shrugged. “He heals without draining,” he said. “But, like the Kara, his strength and speed have yet to manifest.”

Healing without draining. Orin sure sounded Immortal to Jonas. What would Braph do with an Immortal son? All that fatherly doting became colored by something else now. Braph had a plan in mind, and it went beyond ridding the world of one Immortal.

“Aris would kill him.”

Braph smiled the smile Jonas hated most. That one that made him feel like a slow child.

“Orin won’t face him. He just needs to touch the piece of Ajnai sticking out of Aris as he dies.”

Jonas held Braph’s gaze a long time. Aris had killed his babies using a Syakaran blade and regained his Immortal powers through it. If Orin was already Immortal and absorbed Aris’s powers as well, he would be the most powerful person the world had known for a thousand years.

It seemed like everything was falling into Braph’s lap.

“How long have you been plannin’ all this?”

“Not every detail.” Braph leaned his elbows on the table. “I didn’t know Turhmos would play with all my toys. Although, I suppose I should have guessed.”

“I was a happy accident?”

“Not entirely happy. I would always have preferred to have you in my team.”

Skepticism twisted Jonas’s mouth. “You got a funny way of showin’ it.” He turned in his seat, leaned against the wall, stretched his legs, and knitted his fingers over his stomach, ready to take advantage of this chance to rest in full.

“What can I say?” Braph splayed his hand and stump. “Accidents have a way of humbling a man.” He stood, letting his chair legs scrape the floor. “Speaking of which, this new hand won’t design itself.”

He bent to kiss Orinia on his way out. She opened her eyes to meet him with a smile and watched his exit. Door closed, she wriggled deeper in her chair, linked her fingers across her shifting belly and turned back, meeting Jonas’s gaze with an expectant one of her own.

He almost looked away, as he’d been growing accustomed to doing since being weakened. But she and he were in the same boat, here in this house. Would probably be best if they were paddling in the same direction.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

She hesitated, watching him with an unreadable expression long enough for him to start thinking he was about to hear a plea for help. “What choice do I have?”

Her voice was so like Llew’s, he was thrown right back to that afternoon they’d shared, and he almost laughed. Almost. But he felt as shit as he had when Llew had said those words to him.

“It’s better than the alternative, put it that way,” Orinia said. She closed her eyes and she settled right back into the chair.

Jonas watched her hands rise and fall as her unborn child kicked and rolled. Part of him ached at the thought that he had missed out on sharing that experience with Llew. Another part ached because Orinia was in this condition through no desire of her own, as Llew would be one day, and he was in no position to prevent it from happening.

“I learnt to love him once before.” Orinia’s eyes were still closed.

As he and Kierra had learnt to love. Was it any different?

He wanted to tell her, wanted to say, “He raped Llew.” But he was looking at a woman who needed Braph right then, the way Llew had needed Jonas when he was strong. Besides, was it his place to tell her? Or was it for Llew to decide who knew? He hated that Braph had done it, but Llew hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t even think she’d told Anya.

Before he could decide if he had anything to add to the conversation, Orinia’s breathing changed, indicating she had drifted off to sleep. No doubt she needed it.

Orin peered over his shoulder at him. None too friendly. Of course, the boy had heard everything. Braph’s plans for him. Orinia’s feelings towards Braph. Jonas’s questioning. For a boy yet to become the most powerful man in recent history, he’d sure perfected his flat glare.

Unsettled, Jonas pushed himself from his chair and left the room. He eased the door to the boys’ room open and stood over Joelin who, thankfully, slept soundly in this house of schemes and untold truths.

One thing was true. Jonas loved this boy. Whatever he did, or was made to do, this child would be at the forefront of his heart and mind.

Braph might not have wanted to send Jonas out bloodied and bruised, but the pair of men he’d left to escort him to the fight had no such qualms. They pushed and shoved him along the narrow corridor. Weak as he was, and chained at wrists and ankles – for appearances, Braph had said – he could do nothing but stumble along as best he could.

He’d taken his time saying goodbye to Joelin that morning. Not yet walking or talking, the boy had fought against the prolonged hug Jonas attempted to give. Jonas wanted to believe his son would have a father at the end of this day, but it was a belief with little evidence to back it. And all his son had known was that someone was smothering him. It didn’t matter by whom, and it didn’t matter if he was never smothered by him again.

Maybe that was for the best. If Jonas didn’t return, Joelin would know his father through stories. That would be less painful, wouldn’t it?

The corridor was long, and barely wide enough for two slim men to stand side-by-side. Accessed from a separate building that had acted as a staging area, and carved out under the ground itself, it had a feeling of extended history, and could have been there since the time of Immortals.

Jonas stumbled through the darkness, while one of his escorts carried a burning torch behind him, and the other rattled his chain leash.

Harsh winter sun sliced through the darkness at the cave opening.

Momentarily blinded, Jonas climbed the steps into the sandy pit, and a roar went up from those gathered to see his demise.