Chapter 80: Skye

"Visitors at the gate, ma'am."
I look up sharply at the man standing in front of me. Wolfe, the Warlord's personal bodyguard, and by extension, mine as well. He's my guard, my captor, my enforcer, but never my friend. He watches me with longing, but not the hopeless wistful kind. No, like he wants to eat me up, he watches like the wolf he is. Steady, piercing, planning. His look has always made my heart stutter in trepidation. There's a clock between us, slowly ticking down to the zero hour. But does he want me for me, or does he want the power at my back?
"Why are you telling me?" I ask scathingly.
From the day I was brought into Sanctuary against my will, Wolfe has been a contentious bane to my existence. Always there, always questioning, ready to pounce when the time is right. He might be a handsome man if he wasn't so beat to hell and back. His muscles are defined and mouth-watering and his darkly tanned skin is smooth where it ripples over those muscles. A deep scar sections half his face, cutting through one thick eyebrow, crossing the socket where an eye used to be and ending just below his lips, half of which now droop. His hair is a wild tangle to his shoulders and his long, fluid limbs are covered in dark tattoos and littered with more scars.
The Warlord chose Wolfe not because he is loyal, or a good man. He chose his personal guard and second-in-command because he's fierce and deadly. He kills without thought at a single command. A perfect guard dog. He obeys for now, though I'm convinced there's something lurking beneath his rugged, terrifying exterior that this Sanctuary should be wary of. A sort of intelligence that he keeps hidden under layers of ferocity. His actions, though brutal and feral are always calculated, even when he's following an order. He thinks through the best way to achieve his ends and acts on that analysis with such rapidity that his actions appear fluid, natural.
I wonder what will happen when he's finally let off his leash, and sadly, I think that day will come sooner rather than later.
Yes, I've spent time studying him. As the second most powerful man in Sanctuary he spends a lot of time with my husband, and therefore me. We hardly speak, but we've known each other for years. Those strange green, almost yellow eyes follow me everywhere I go. Watching, judging, never giving anything away.
After a long pause, he says, "One of the visitors, an Outsider, asked for you directly." He says the word Outsider with a little sneer. I'm surprised. Wolfe rarely allows any kind of inflection into his voice. He either doesn't like Outsiders or doesn't like the one who is requesting a meeting with me.
"Not my husband?" I've never had a visitor ask for me specifically. Though I am the Warlord's favourite, I try to keep my head down, appear calm, mild and obedient to everyone outside the harem.
"Show them in," I tell him after a moment's thought. There's little an outsider or anyone else can do to me in the Warlord's fortress. Any threat to my safety will come from inside. "Take proper security measures, please."
Wolfe nods sharply, turns and leaves without another word. The man rarely speaks. I've become used to his abrupt entrances and exits. I glance toward the Warlord's throne as I wait for our guests. It sits empty, the same as it has for months. The chair should be mine, I make all the decisions on behalf of my husband. Unfortunately, no one can know that I'm the power behind the Warlord, or there will be threats to our lives, our leadership. Women aren't respected or given any kind of authority. Not unless they take it, like I have.
I climb the dais and sink onto the smaller chair, to the right and slightly lower than the Warlord's seat. I fold my hands in my lap and wait, knowing that I look the picture of perfect wifely obedience. Hair perfectly arranged, loose and around my shoulders, just the way he likes it. A feminine dress, light and flowing paired with a pretty flower-pattered scarf, my habitual accessory. The outfit is demure with just a hint of sexy so others might see what they are missing in his lordship's harem. I used to hate the way he dresses his wives, but I have since grown accustomed to and even appreciative of the feminine clothes. Few people would consider the predator that lurks beneath them. The woman who thirsts for the kill, for revenge.
My husband has many faults, vanity included. But ultimately, he is harmless. I smirk at the thought. I am to appear less dangerous than I am, and my husband is to appear far more powerful than he is. What a strange world we live in.
I straighten in my seat and drop my eyes to the hands folded in my lap as the door opens and a group of people enter. From beneath my lashes I see a guard of six including Wolfe. He must really think the outsiders being escorted into my presence constitute a risk, six guards seem overboard.
I stand and delicately make my way down the steps, to stand in front of Wolfe. Tension rises between us, and I itch to push him out of my way. He knows that he is to step aside so I can greet my guests. Instead, he takes a long pause, telling me without words exactly who is in charge if he wants to be.
I swallow a scathing snarl and wait him out. Yelling at my guard will only serve to diminish me in the eyes of the newcomers. Until I know who they are and why they're here, they don't need a first-hand view to the contentious dynamics within our Sanctuary.
Finally, Wolfe steps aside, brushing his bicep against my shoulder as he passes. I hold my breath and then release it slowly. He means to disconcert me. I can't fall for his tricks.
"Welcome to the Santa Fe Sanctuary." I keep my eyes lowered and my posture meek.
A pause, and then a quiet voice. "Skye?"
My head snaps up and recognition slams into me like a truck. I feel hot and cold at once, my gut clenching in hopeful fear as I take a hesitant step forward, staring at an apparition. A woman I'd thought dead, or at the very least completely lost to me. My younger sister. We haven't seen each other in fifteen years. She was small then and she hasn't grown much. I'm several inches taller, my frame more robust. But otherwise, we could be twins. Our faces are nearly identical, except for a tiny mole just below my lip. My hair is also somewhat darker without the shining red that has always been her signature. We both share the same stormy grey eyes.
From the look on her face she is almost as shocked as I am. Like she didn't believe she would find me here, though our meeting can't be a coincidence. She looks like she's been travelling hard for days, without much rest or opportunity to clean herself up. Her hair is a tangled mess around her shoulders and her clothes are rumpled and dusty. Unlike my tidy dress she is wearing pants, a shirt that buttons all the way up her front and a scarf around her throat.
"Taran," I manage to choke out from a throat rapidly constricting with emotion. My gaze swings to the side and I look at Wolfe, directly in the eye. He must have realized. We look too much alike for him to have shrugged off the resemblance. His gaze remains distant and cool. Did the bastard hope to disconcert me by showing them in without warning me?
"Skye!" Taran says again and steps toward me, reaching out. The man next to her grabs her arm and drags her back.
I look toward the other person, the Outsider, and I get my second shock for the evening. Standing next to my sister is my kidnapper, the man that snatched me from the safety of my travelling companions seven years ago and sold me to the Warlord. Before I can stop myself, I stumble back a step.
Talon's hard gaze is on me. I expect malevolence or a leer, but his expression remains bland, waiting for me to pull myself together. I remember that he was always that way, quiet, stoic. I've turned him into a monster in my head. I take a steadying breath and straighten my shoulders. Stepping forward I reach for Taran and gather her into my arms, jerking her from his hold. She wraps her arms tightly around me, pressing us together as hard as she can. A tiny sob shakes her frame.
"I'm here, honey." I call her the same thing our grandmother used to call her. Then it occurs to me that Taran must know what happened to grandma and grandpa. All these years of wondering and the answers are standing right in front of me in the shape of my only kin. My heart swells. I finally have a piece of my past.
Taran leans back far enough to look at me while still clinging. "I can't believe it's really you!" she exclaims. "All these years, I thought you were dead."
"I know." I can't stop looking at her, at my beautiful little sister. I hold her hand tight, unwilling to let her go, for even a second. I turn back to Talon. "Thank you for bringing my sister to me."
He nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Thought the Warlord would appreciate a matching set."
The reminder of my husband brings home the precarious position I'm in. Someone like Talon can't know that the Warlord is incapacitated. He'll use the information to his advantage, selling it to anyone looking to challenge our authority.
"Of course," I murmur.
"If he wants her, she's going to cost him."