Page 51 of Hot Zone

She levered herself cautiously to her feet, wincing every inch of the way. It felt as if she’d gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer. And lost. Badly.

She made her way to the bathing basin and poked a toe in. The water was ice-cold this morning. She settled for dipping a corner of one of Rustam’s towels into it and giving herself a fast, uncomfortable sponge bath. At least that woke her up.

She spent several minutes doing careful stretching exercises, gradually loosening her muscles to a semblance of functionality. And still Rustam sat on his rock, his eyes closed, his muscular body utterly still.

Although there was no expression on his face, strong emotion rolled off of him, visible even over here. If she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, pale blue light seemed to emanate from him. Strange. The last time she’d seen energy coming off of him, it had been a vibrant violet-blue. Maybe he was just tired. After their rather athletic evening and an all-night vigil, it made sense.

She got dressed, lit the fire and hung the pot of last night’s stew over the flames to warm. While it reheated, she packed up their camp. Since Rustam was naked over there—how he wasn’t frozen solid, she had no idea—she laid out his leggings and a light tunic.

When there was nothing left to do but eat, tighten the saddles and go, she headed to the stream.

“Rustam?” she called quietly.

He didn’t give any indication of having heard her. Wow. Must be in a deep state of trance or hypnosis or whatever it was he did. They really did need to get going. The Persian army was not that far behind them.

Sighing, she kicked off her boots, hiked up her pant legs and waded across the stream. She tried again. “Rustam?”

Still nothing.

She reached out and touched his shoulder.

Several things happened all at once. First, a violent explosion of energy passed between them, so strong and bright that even she could see it. Violet beams of light raced all around them. His aura abruptly went from pale blue to brilliant cobalt and back to that indigo mix of violet and blue that she was used to.

Second, a blast of mental awareness burst inside her skull. All of a sudden, she was vividly aware of the smallest sound around her, of the color and energy of the air and rocks and blades of grass. The bronze wedge’s signature burned bright and clear, still southeast of their position, a bright beacon of energy calling her to it.

Third, and much more alarming than the previous two events, Rustam surged up off the rock, grabbing her wrist and twisting it with enough force to drop her to her knees before him.

“Why do you give it back to me now, witch?” he snarled.

She snapped, “Would you please stop talking in riddles and throwing tantrums when I have no bloody idea what you’re talking about?”

He flung her hand away from him. Still on her knees, she glared up at him. “I asked you a question, and I’d appreciate an answer. What the hell are you talking about?”

He glared down at her, magnificent in his unclothed fury. “You took all of my power last night, but you just gave it back to me. Why? What did you do with it all night?”

She climbed to her feet, fists clenched at her sides, and glared back up at him. Their height difference probably diminished the effectiveness of her aggressive stance, but he was a bright boy. He would get the point. She’d had it with his displays of childish temper.

“Rustam. I slept all night. Like the dead. I didn’t take your power. I didn’t do anything with it. And if you think I just gave it back to you, bully for you. But frankly, I don’t give a damn one way or the other. I’ve got places to go and things to do, and the day’s a’wasting. If you want to sit here on your rock and pout some more, be my guest. But I’m leaving. Now.”

She pivoted smartly on her heel and marched across the stream with as much military precision as she could muster. She put her boots back on and stalked over to Cygna. The mare was skittish, and Tessa had to stop and take a deep, calming breath.

“I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that the man drives me completely crazy.” She tugged on the girth strap and started to knot it.

Big hands came out of nowhere from behind her and pushed hers away gently. “Go eat some soup. You need your strength. I’ll take care of the horses.”

His voice was neutral, betraying nothing—not anger, not calm, not even a note of apology. She nodded stiffly and ducked out from under his arm. She split the soup between their two bowls giving him more since he was nearly twice her size, ate hers quickly, and then took the cooking pot to the stream to scrub with a handful of sand and rinse clean.

When she turned around, Rustam was holding a set of reins in each hand, his expression stony. She walked over and took Cygna from him in silence. They mounted up, and he turned Polaris’s nose to the south. She fell in behind him.

They rode hard through the day, taking only two rest stops. Each time, Rustam worked on the horses, passing his hands over them and noticeably refreshing the beasts. She half wished he would offer to do the same for her.

But after what had happened to her when he’d passed his hands over her like that last night, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. She didn’t need to be any more sensitive and tender than she already was.

Sometime in the early afternoon, she became aware of a faint salt smell in the air. The day grew muggy and uncomfortable as the sun rose higher overhead, beating down upon them mercilessly. They must be getting close to the coast. Which meant they were also getting close to Thermopylae.

The name sent a thrill shivering through her—it was arguably one of the most famous battlefields in all of recorded history. And she was about to walk upon its hallowed sands. Before it was sanctified with the blood of heroes.

Rustam murmured over his shoulder—the first time he’d spoken to her all day. “Bring Cygna up here beside me.”

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