Rebel:. Zoe Archer
not be part of higher society, could not be meek and fragile. A terrible candidate for domesticity. Yet she had found rare understanding with the man who would become her husband, and more in the circle of the Blades.
And now she had found it again. In Nathan Lesperance. Even without the wolf inside, he was an unstoppable force. The shared intimacy of camp would be difficult to withstand, even with the campfire between them.
They rode through a patch of swampy muskeg, the horses and mule slogging across the peat. A bad place to spend the night, too wet, no possibility of fire. Lesperance also took note of the growing shadows heralding the end of day. He knew they needed a place for the night but didn’t question her when she had them press onward.
He trusted her decisions. That itself showed respect. Many men would not rely on a woman’s judgment, even if the woman’s experience was greater than their own. Lesperance was different, for more reasons than the obvious. She scowled to herself. This would be much easier if he wasn’t so damned captivating.
A rustling in the scrub. Astrid held up her hand, signaling silence, as she and Lesperance drew up on their reins. He kept mute as she reached slowly toward her boot. Her hand curled around the handle of her knife. Then, with a single move, she drew the blade and threw it into the scrub. There was a small squeak, then nothing.
Astrid dismounted and gingerly stepped into the undergrowth. Moving through the brush, she felt it, the difference.
“You’re frowning,” he said. “Did you miss?”
She ignored his comment. “Magic is strong here. I feel it in the ground, the plants.”
“Magic’s everywhere, so you said.”
“See this?” She plucked, then held up, a purple-tipped gold flower. “Isis’s Eyes. This isn’t their flowering season.”
“A seasonal anomaly?”
“More than that. Strong magic makes them bloom out of season. Blades use them to track Sources.” She frowned down at the little flower, a portent of something much bigger than its size would indicate. “Changes are happening. But I don’t know what’s stirring to life.”
The flower was edible, so Astrid chewed on it meditatively and resumed her initial search through the scrub. She found what she was looking for. With tall grass, she wiped the blood off the hunting knife’s blade after pulling it up.
When she held the rabbit up by its ears, showing Lesperance her prize, frank appreciation lit his face. She had to admit, it had been a good kill.
“Looks like we’re having meat for supper,” she said, and liked it too much when he grinned in anticipation.
Instead of watching her dig the fire pit, he wanted to try his hand at it. She was obliged to give him direction—but not much, for he learned quickly, and soon had their fire beautifully built and flickering. She skinned and cleaned the rabbit. Before long, it sizzled as it cooked on a spit, and the dusk filled with the sounds of roasting meat and nocturnal insects striking up their song.
“See that?” she said, nodding toward the sky. Lesperance followed her gaze to some low-hanging clouds in the east. “That faint glow at the bottom of the clouds. It’s light from the Heirs’ campfire.”
He scowled. “A taunt.”
“Exactly. They want us to know they’re coming for you, and there’s nothing we can do to stop them.”
He looked murderous, but it was one small drop of the Heirs’ arrogance. “We know where they are. We can stop them—use magic against them.”
“I’ve none to use,” she answered. “The code of the Blades demands that Blades may only use magic that is theirs by birth or gift.”
“Damned inconvenient,” he muttered.
“It can be.”
“You’re not a Blade anymore,” he pointed out.
Hell. The prohibition of magic use was deeply ingrained into all Blades. She’d forgotten that their code no longer applied to her. Astrid knew it was inscribed in her very blood, no matter how much she wished otherwise.
“Just be cautious,” she said instead. He gave a clipped nod. Even though the Heirs were nipping at their heels, she needed to think of something else. “Take care with rabbit,” she advised him. “They are too lean to live on. You can gorge yourself on them and still starve to death. Be sure to eat enough fat. Even pure suet, if you must.”
He looked at her without hiding his interest. “You know a hell of a lot about living out in the wilderness.”
“If I did not, I would be dead.”
“And did you know as much, before you came to the Territory?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I knew some things.”
“What brought you out here?”
Astrid glowered. “This is the edge of nowhere, and you’re cross-examining me.”
He refused to look abashed. In truth, he appeared downright arrogant. “I studied law for three years and took up at the firm right after that. Nobody argued a case better than me. Even ones that others thought unwinnable. I helped a Chinese laborer with settlement against a white banker who cheated the laborer of his savings. Everyone was sure the banker would win. The Chinese have hardly any rights in Victoria. But the banker lost, because I got the truth out of him. I always do.”
She believed all of that. She felt her own truths laid bare before him. And as for arguing, she and Lesperance did that very well.
It would be better if she kept quiet, if she knew as little about him as possible, yet she could not stop herself. “Will you go back to Victoria, go back to the law, after all this?”
Arrogance fell away as he considered his options. “I’d be the only wolf in the courtroom.”
“I’ve heard that lawyers are jackals.”
A corner of his mouth turned up, wry. “Then it could be my advantage. Wolf beats jackal.” He shook his head at the fancy. “Maybe I can’t return. Maybe I won’t be able to find other Earth Spirits. All I know for certain is that I want to rip out the Heirs’ throats.” He gave a small self-mocking snort. “Finding out I can turn into a wolf, and that there’s a gang of murderous Englishmen after me, threw off all my pretty plans.”
What those plans were, he didn’t say, but she was surprised at the loss coloring his deep voice. He didn’t show his vulnerability if he could help it. A twinge of shame pierced her, having, up to that point, mostly considered her own unhappiness at being drawn into this mission. It wasn’t a mission to Lesperance. It was his life.
“I’m sorry,” she said, for that was all she could offer. She knew what it was to have dreams for the future, and those dreams to blow away like ashes.
“I’ll find my way. Could use guidance, though. A firm hand.” He raised his eyes to hers, and a heated interest glowed there.
“You don’t need that kind of guidance,” she answered tartly.
His scarce smile flashed. “A man who believes he’s nothing more to learn about women is a damn fool.”
Her sudden laughter caught them both off guard, but he chuckled with her.
“That’s a nice sound,” he said.
“Rusty,” she replied, grimacing. How long had it been since she’d laughed with another person?
He fed twigs to the fire, but she could not help but notice the masculine grace of his hands. A traitorous thought teased her: How might he touch a woman? With a firm hand, no doubt.
Astrid took her knife and carved the roast rabbit into pieces. Rather than bother with dirtying plates, she shoved a cooked leg into Lesperance’s hand and took one for herself.
She