Chapter 7
Kaeva
“You,” Kaeva muttered over the limp body of the drenched intake, “are one sorry excuse for prophecy.” He sighed, picked up a stick off the sand, and used it to poke and turn the fool’s head to one side so the i***t wouldn’t suffocate. The Kings would probably have a fit if the guy didn’t even make it to medical.
And, well, looking closer, “guy” might have been pushing it. Kid, really. Boy, possibly. Kaeva wasn’t old by any standard, but in world experience, he was ancient, hardened, crotchety and nobody would dispute it. This child looked like a Lost Boy who’d taken a wrong turn on the way to Peter Pan’s Neverland.
Keeping one eye over his shoulder, Kaeva returned to his camp some thirty feet away. Stowing a suppressor in a pouch where he could easily reach it, Kaeva pi
