Page 56 of Killian
This was her moment to say no. How was she supposed to explain that she thought Tilva, the tiny sprite was more prepared for battle than Cynog? He looked at her hopefully, and Moira wilted.
“Well, you’ll be in charge of looking after any of the books and things in the temple,” said Moira. “So that means you’ll be at the back when we enter.”
“I am equipped with glue, tape and a book press,” said Cynog. “And a papyrus patch kit for any scroll repair.”
“Well, that’s great,” said Moira. Killian was going to laugh at her. She had chickened out, but she hated disappointing people.
She found Killian trying to politely turn down armor.
“It doesn’t work for me,” said Killian. “I appreciate the offer, but unless it changes shape with me, it’s only going to get in my way.” The armorer looked distressed, but Killian returned the breastplate and hurried over to Moira. “They are being so nice, but I can’t use half the things they want to give me.”
“I just started growling every time they approached with afresh bit of something,” said Moira. “Worked like a charm.”
“Once again, I find your ability to make people uncomfortable admirable.”
Moira smiled, but it quickly faded. “We’re ready to leave,” she said.
“I still dislike being separated,” said Killian.
“It makes the most sense. We’ll push out through the temple and make sure the warlocks didn’t leave any explosives behind. If there’s any fighting to be done, we’ll make sure they can’t retreat to the temple.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t make sense. I said I didn’t like it.”
“You’re the one who has to get close to that racist asshole,” said Moira. “I really feel like he needs to be punched in the face. And all the other places, to be honest.”
“And if he doesn’t do what we want, then I will be doing that,” said Killian.
“Why aren’t you more angry about him?” demanded Moira.
“Because he’s a racist douchebag,” said Killian, with a shrug.
“Yes!”
A smile flashed on his face. “I can’t be bothered to take all of those personally,” said Killian. “There are a lot of them, and I don’t have the time or energy.”
“Well, I take it personally!” growled Moira.
“Thank you, my beloved,” said Killian, pulling her close. “That makes me feel loved.”
“Come out of this alive and I will make you feel loved in a much better way,” Moira said, whispering in his ear. His hand slid down her back to rest on her ass.
“Really?” he murmured nibbling her earlobe. “You thinkyou’regoing to be one setting the itinerary for our reunion?”
Moira giggled and turned her head to kiss him. She sank into his kiss, pressing herself against him. He made her feel like whatever world they were in was a million miles away.Reluctantly she finally pulled away.
“I am going to go ninja my way into a temple,” said Moira. “You go kick some warlock ass. Meet you back wherever they’ve got fluffy big beds and we will do whatever the hell you want to do because I think all of your ideas are great.”
Killian chuckled and Moira took a deep breath and forced herself to leave her mate behind.
The journey to the temple’s back door was only a few miles and she thought she could have accomplished it faster without a company of twenty-two elves and one dryad behind her, but that rather negated the point of the plan.
She knew she and Killian still weren’t truly resolved over the matter of her grandfather, but she had faith that they could, or possibly already had, worked it out. Killian was a natural diplomat and strategist. He would be such a good alpha that Moira could only be grateful that fate had brought them together. He would help her be a better leader, and she knew they could be his family. Even the fact that Killian was mad told her how much importance he placed on family. It was a minor hiccup, but she knew they could resolve everything once they got their memories back.
They pushed through the foliage and arrived at the massive wall of the Central Branch. Reddish-brown bark filled her entire field of vision. Small, toothpick-looking strips of bark had been peeled back and formed into a ladder of stairs that lead up the outside of the tree and Moira went up without hesitation. Behind her Moira could hear Cynog, making excited little noises as he fondled the tree. She had the feeling that this was exceeding all his expectations of adventure. Tilva zipped by her head, scouting further up and then zooming back.
“Everything is clear!” she squeaked.
“Great,” said Moira. The bark stairs lead to a knot hole and into a tunnel that Ceallach told her was created by a worminfestation during the formation of level three. The tunnel was erratic, jogging up and down, and had been carefully leveled in some spots. Apparently, worms did not think of future users of their tunnels when they were chewing. The walls were a dark-reddish purple and Ceallach had said that was from the careful use of a magical flame to burn off the poisonous worm saliva residue. Moira was pleased to see Cynog and the elves reverentially running their fingertips along the walls. It helped to know that she wasn’t the only one awed by the tunnel.
