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side.”
    Mentioning Vaan Galip eased their nerves some. It meant she knew who they were and would be a fool not to fear the wrath of such a powerful man.
    Ramar slid his sword into his harness at his back. “You can come closer but the others will not move.”
    “Of course.”
    Shaina ignored Justan’s burning stare and held her breath in hopes he wouldn’t attempt to stop her. The other Kabanian warriors never took their eyes off of her men and kept their swords at the ready.
    Shaina kneeled beside Ramar and placed her hand on Warlord Argan’s temple. Blasting heat indicated a fever long out of control. Her fingers came away damp.
    “Did he eat anything?”
    One of the Kabanian gasped sharply.
    Ramar stared. “Do you think this the result of poison?”
    If so, considering his current state, it had to be slow acting or he would have been dead.
    “No.” She leaned forward and placed her face close to the stunning features of the unconscious Warlord. Shaina had never seen a man more beautiful. Dark brows creased in pain but nothing could detract from the bold lines of his face. Despite his clear illness, his features were enough to give any woman pause. And his hair, the rich, black length cascaded around him and fell to his waist like ribbons of silk.
    Putting thoughts of his looks aside, Shaina inhaled deeply. The fruity tang on his breath gave her the answer she needed. Warlord Argan was indeed close to death.
    Shaina rifled through her satchel, knowing exactly what she sought. Nidi weed. Her fingers closed on the small, leather pouch and the liquid medicine within. Nidi weed oozed a thick fluid that worked on fever but especially on Maso.
    “He has Maso virus. A bug carrying the disease must have bitten him.”
    Lips turned down, Ramar stiffened, worry glinting in his eyes. He was a handsome man as well. “There is no cure for Maso.”
    Well, maybe they didn’t have one but the Olak’din healers were gifted herbalists when it came to medicine. “The nidi weed will heal him.”
    Carefully, she opened the medicine and prepared to put it to Argan’s mouth when a hand locked around her throat.
    Shaina froze.
    The tip of a blade caressed Ramar’s throat at the same time.
    Justan.
    Justan never took chances when it came to Shaina’s life, thus the reason she assigned him to watch her back.
    Shaina glanced down into the glazed, dark eyes of Warlord Argan. As sick as he was the hand about her neck never wavered.
    “Release her,” Justan demanded, while his blade pressed along Ramar’s throat.
    “Who are you?” Warlord Argan’s voice was no less commanding despite the raspy dry tones.
    “You’re very ill, Warlord of Kaban.”
    Thick curled lashes fluttered as he fought to keep his eyes open.
    “Release her or I will kill your man.” The tip of Justan’s blade pricked the warrior’s skin beneath it.
    Was she the only one who heard the thin thread of fear in her friend’s voice?
    “Know this. If she poisons me, I will crush her throat beneath my fingers before you can end Ramar.” Argan’s voice deepened to a rough rumble.
    “It’s okay, Justan.” She never broke Argan’s stare.
    Justan didn’t shift his sword away. Ramar wisely remained motionless.
    The two warriors were at a stalemate, neither willing to concede to the other.
    Argan applied pressure in warning, his fingers digging into the skin of her neck. But she also saw the fear he managed to bank seconds later.
    “Justan, we don’t have time,” Shaina snapped. To Argan she murmured, “If you ease your hold a bit, he will stand down.”
    Rivulets of sweat rolled from his temple. A fine tremble started in the fully extended arm he used to hold her.
    “No trickery,” Argan warned as his arm fell to his side.
    Already the color leeched from his face. Soon it wouldn’t matter. Maso had four stages. Fever, vomiting, shakes and then the cold sleep of death.

Chapter 5
     
    Warrior instinct compelled Argan to be on his guard from the strange