Chapter 1
Slamming his fist into the wall wasn’t the smartest thing Larem had ever done, but it was that or punch his roommate. Since the current situation wasn’t Lonzo’s fault, he’d aimed his temper at something that wouldn’t bruise—or hit back—although right now a good down-and-dirty fight held some appeal. Pain was slow to register, but his blood stood out in stark relief against the wall’s white paint.
“Damn it, Larem, was that really necessary? I hope you didn’t break anything; it’s your night to do the dishes.” Lonzo’s comment held an equal mix of worry and disgust. “We both know Devlin has no choice in the matter. He’s only asking that you and Barak lie low for a while. Besides, it’s only temporary.”
Larem flexed his hand gingerly. Nothing broken. Nothing solved. He was still caught between two worlds, neither of which wanted to lay claim to him.
“Yeah, right. Why not make it easier on everyone concerned and tell the Regents to make one big cage and stuff all your pet Kalith into it?” Larem said bitterly.
Swallowing hard against the acrid taste of his rage, he slowly turned to his worried friend. “Or better yet, shove us back across the barrier. With any luck, the Sworn Guardians will solve the problem for you with just a few swings of a sword.”
Lonzo had his own temper and shoved Larem hard, sending him bouncing back against the wall. “Don’t be such a dumbass. None of us would let that happen.”
Larem got right back up in his friend’s face. “Correction, Lonzo. Some of the Seattle Paladins wouldn’t want that to happen, but you’re paid to follow orders. If the Regents decide they want us gone, what can you do to stop them? If you refuse to rid the world of a few inconvenient Kalith, they can always find others who will.”
He looked down the hall where more Paladins were congregated. “And they wouldn’t have to go far to find them.”
A deep voice joined the discussion. “You’re wrong, Larem. That’s not happening. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. We owe you and the others too much.”
Larem wanted to believe Devlin Bane. He really did, but he’d been betrayed too many times by his own kind to easily accept that his former enemies would behave any differently. Gods above, he missed his old life so damned much. As a Blademate to a Sworn Guardian, he’d known his place in their world and served his people with honor.
Here, he accepted a paycheck from the Paladins for teaching weapons practice a few hours a month. He hated living on their charity, but he was still learning his way in this new life. Eventually, he’d be able to strike out on his own and be free to make his own choices. Some days he seriously thought about crossing back over into Kalithia and taking his chances that his death sentence would be rescinded. So far he’d resisted the urge.
Another Paladin came out of the conference room and headed straight for Larem. “This new policy is crap, and you know it.”
Hunter Fitzsimon glared at Devlin, his green eyes blazing with pure rage. “I have more reason than most to hate what comes boiling across the barrier at us, but Larem is different.”
Devlin rolled his huge shoulders, no doubt trying to shrug off some tension. “Listen up, all of you. You’ll get no arguments from me on that score. However, until this new rep from the Regents is actually here, we just need to be careful. Arguing by e-mail won’t change anything, but I can and will make our case in person.”
“Yeah, right, and if he doesn’t buy what you’re selling? What then?” Hunter turned his attention to Larem. “Pack up your things. You’re coming home with me and Tate. The apartment over the garage is yours as long as you need it.”
Devlin looked like he wanted to argue, but then the big man shut his mouth and shrugged. “He’s right, Larem. I can’t guarantee this new guy will listen to me. If you’d feel safer moving up north with Hunter, I wouldn’t blame you. Go camp out in Hunter’s apartment, at least until the dust settles and we know more what we’re dealing with.”
For the first time since Devlin had called the morning meeting to order, Larem didn’t feel quite so alone. As tempting as it was to take off with Hunter, the thought of hiding out didn’t sit well with him. A warrior both by training and by nature, he would not run.
“I’ll wait to see what happens. Besides, I’m not the only one affected by this order.” Larem nodded down the hallway to where Barak q’Young stood talking to his sister, who had two Kalith children at home. “We can’t all go into hiding.”
Devlin sighed, clearly tired of dealing with all the bureaucratic bullshit. “This guy is supposed to show up by the end of the week. I suggest we go about business as usual until then.”
Like anything had been “usual” for Larem in a long, long time. “Are we done? If so, I’m out of here.”
Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the gym, intent on working off some anger banging blades with someone, anyone. A few seconds later both Hunter and Lonzo caught up with him. He’d rather be left alone for a few minutes but couldn’t fault them for their show of support. The least he could do was show his appreciation by bruising them up some.