Part 28 (1/2)

”You have no power here,” said a low voice, behind him.

Perrin's gut crunched into a hard ball. He turned, watching as a giant ascended the yacht ladder, dripping seawater. He wore no decoration. Carried no weapons. His hair was long and silver, and deep lines creased his face. His muscles were still taut, though, and strong. He wore his age well.

”Father,” Perrin whispered, unable to put any strength in his voice.

Father. Turon O'doro. Eight years had done little to dull the sharp stab of heartbreak that traveled through Perrin when he looked into his father's eyes. He was little again, under that gaze. Just a boy. A boy, searching for some measure of compa.s.sion, anything in his father's eyes that might indicate even the faintest of small pleasures at seeing him again.

He found nothing.

But he heard Jenny breathing behind him. She made everything colder, sharper. He wasn't alone now. It wasn't just his survival that mattered.

Prison yard, Perrin told himself. Live or die.

”I thought you would be dead,” said his father, with a particular emptiness in his voice.

Perrin hoped his expression did not change. ”If you wanted to be certain, you should have taken my life yourself.”

Turon's jaw tightened-and his gaze flicked past him. Perrin resisted the urge to block his view of Jenny. It would do no good and only bring more attention to her.

A frown touched his father's mouth. ”Strange reward.”

”But mine. As agreed,” A'lesander said. Perrin whirled. His old friend was standing, holding Jenny by the arm. She was leaning away from him, her gaze intense, flickering from A'lesander to Perrin, settling on Turon with a sharpness that he hoped his father did not notice.

But it was the possessiveness of A'lesander's grip that concerned him most.

”No,” Perrin said. ”No.”

”She was mine before you met her,” A'lesander replied, switching to English. Perrin hadn't even realized they had been speaking the Krackeni native tongue. He'd fallen into it so naturally. ”I won't let her suffer for your exile. I'll take her from here. I'll protect her, like I'd always planned to.”

Jenny tried to twist out of his grip. ”Like you protected me before? f.u.c.k you, Les.”

A terrible helplessness stole over Perrin. He felt his father watching, but this was something he could not hide. He wasn't strong enough.

Live or die.

Perrin tried to move toward her, but the hunters barred his way. He was bigger than them, but he did not fight. All he could do was stare at Jenny, watching as some awful realization crossed her face.

”Don't you dare,” she whispered. ”I don't know what this is, but don't you-”

”Enough,” snapped Turon, his voice clicking out the melodic tones of the Krackeni language. ”You are still under exile, A'lesander, and will be punished for your trespa.s.s into our territory. You did us a service, however, by finding Pelena's murderer. Take the human and go. What little good it will do you.”

Perrin snapped around to stare at his father. ”I did not kill Pelena.”

”Show me your neck,” said his father.

Perrin suppressed a growl, and yanked his hair away from his head. He turned. His father stalked close, sending a chill down his spine.

He expected roughness, but Turon was surprisingly gentle as his thumbs traced the edges of the hole in his head. Perrin shuddered, cringed-just enough to make him hate himself, and his father, a little more than he already did.

”You lost the kra'a,” said Turon, his voice dead, quiet.

”I lost it eight years ago,” replied Perrin tightly. ”A'lesander killed Pelena. He confessed it to me. Ask him where the kra'a is.”

”A'lesander would not be able to hold a kra'a, even should he have one in his possession. He is too weak.” Turon paused, not seeming to notice how A'lesander's face darkened at his words. ”Pelena warned us you would return. She said your kra'a was calling to you. She could feel its dissatisfaction with her body.”

”I didn't come here to take back my kra'a,” Perrin told him coldly. ”You're wasting your time with me. You should be searching for it. Finding some way to quiet the beast before it wakes.”

”There is no quiet for the beast. Nothing for it but dreams. You remember that much.” Turon hesitated. ”You and your dreams.”

”Don't,” Perrin snapped. ”You punished me. Leave it at that.”

”I cannot. You are here.” His father stood so still, and grim. ”Temptation is an ugly thing. What did you think would happen if you killed Pelena for the kra'a? That your soul would be mended? That we would be forced to accept you, simply for the sake of settling the beast?”

Perrin curled his hands into fists. ”I would never be so foolish. I told you, I did not come for power. I came because I felt the beast wake.”

”Do not lie,” whispered his father. ”Your connection to the sea was severed.”

Perrin swayed toward him. ”I felt it. I still feel it. I hear the song of the sea, and I have witnessed the golden eye-”

Turon backhanded him. Jenny gasped, but Perrin just started laughing, cold and bitter, and furious.

”You never could see the truth,” he said, spitting blood at his father's feet. ”You were never as good at divining souls as S'har or the other singers. Never. Even M'cal, his half-human son, was better than you at singing the souls of the living. That's why they didn't bring you on land to guard our people's secrets. They used you as nothing more than a breeder. And you took it out on me.”

His father hit him again. Perrin saw it coming, but received the blow without fighting back. Nearly sent him to his knees.

”I did not kill her,” he said, wiping blood from his mouth. ”You see I do not have her kra'a.”

Turon struck him in the face again, and this time Perrin did go down. He heard some commotion, A'lesander swearing, and suddenly Jenny was standing between him and his father. Back straight, breathing hard.

”Don't you touch him,” she whispered.

Perrin found his feet and grabbed Jenny's arm, pulling her behind him. But Turon stared after her, frowning.

”I know your eyes,” he said, in rough English. ”Little girl.”

Perrin swallowed hard. ”A'lesander. Get her out of here.”

Jenny tried to yank free. ”Like h.e.l.l.”

”You carried a big stick,” whispered his father, and Perrin snarled at him, backing Jenny up until she landed in A'lesander's arms. None of the other hunters moved. Still as statues, conserving their strength. He suspected not one of them was accustomed to the weight of gravity though their eyes tracked his every move. Ready. Waiting.

”Go with him,” he told Jenny, hating himself for not being able to protect her. ”Please, go.”

Jenny's fingers dug into his arm. A'lesander grabbed her waist, but she did not make a sound. Just hung on to Perrin, for all she was worth.

”I love you,” he breathed, prying her fingers off his arm.

Jenny slapped him with her other hand. Perrin flinched but managed to tear her off him. A'lesander hauled backward, but she continued to fight.

Perrin spun around to face his father, and got right up in his face so that Turon had to look at him, and not Jenny. Hurt, being near him. Hurt more than he could stomach.