***

  Taran waited uneasily on the sweeping stairs of the ancient hold in the center of Tiyan. Guards hung back in a loose perimeter around him, but they had thus far not challenged him. The night air was crisp and cool and laden by the scents of the ocean. The sky was clear and stars bright.

  Hilden reappeared. His step was quick, his eyes darting around. He paused beside one of the guards. Taran tensed, expecting an order to have him seized and thrown underground. The guard nodded at Hilden’s brief address and trotted away.

  Hilden waved Taran forward. The bright chamber blinded him. He squinted, senses heightening. He heard Hilden pause a short distance ahead and stopped, sensing only two men in the massive chamber. At Hilden’s silence, Taran opened his eyes, irritated by the brightness.

  "This is Bastion. He will confirm for Sirian," Hilden said in his gruff voice.

  Taran complied and rolled up his sleeve to display his bandaged forearm. He took an immediate dislike to Bastion; the man was short and thick with close-set blue eyes as cold as a winter’s morning.

  "And you saw her arm bound?" Bastion demanded of Hilden.

  "I did," Hilden confirmed, also frowning.

  Taran said nothing.

  "So be it."

  Bastion gave Taran a distasteful look before swiftly moving away. Hilden waited until he was gone before moving closer to Taran.

  "The warlord is gone. Sirian as well," he said. "I didn’t know until we went to search for them upon your arrival."

  "Did they leave together?" Taran asked.

  Hilden shook his head. He motioned for Taran to follow and led him up the stairs into Rissa’s expansive chambers.

  "We can talk here," Hilden said. He sat in one of the chairs, visibly relaxing.

  Taran paced as he waited. The room was lit by a hearth and one oil pan, but it smelled completely of her. His blood tingled, and he was annoyed by the reminder of her affect on him.

  "Where is she?"

  "She will return," Hilden answered. "It is Sirian you need to worry about. Bastion alone knew of his departure."

  "And Rissa?" he pressed.

  "Safe. She went to meet an ally."

  "She what?"

  "No one knows."

  "Foolish, foolish woman!" Taran growled.

  "I know this ally and arranged for her travel without Sirian's knowledge. She is safe," Hilden said. "And brave."

  With neither of Tiyan's estranged leaders present, Taran’s mind shifted to how he might exploit the situation. His gaze lingered on Hilden.

  "You will announce our mating at dawn to the people of Tiyan," he stated firmly.

  "All but Sirian will be pleased," Hilden replied. "Though I heard you were one of Memon’s."

  "I serve no one," Taran said as he crossed to the window overlooking the city. It was beautiful, far too pure and good for a man like Memon. He thought of Rissa, of how he would wrest control from her, or better, control of her and of Tiyan. Hilden might defer to him in her absence, but Taran knew where the loyalty of most of the men lay.

  "If you are who I think you are, you will protect her and us well," Hilden added. "I hope it is so."

  Taran glanced at him, noticing how haggard the older man suddenly appeared.

  "You tire yourself. Go and rest," he said, not unkindly.

  "Rissa does not rest. I do not rest. I must await word of the messengers."

  "What messengers?"

  "Those she sent north to our ally, Dierdirien. If they fail, I will hear before morning."

  Taran faced him. Hilden rested his head on the back of the chair, eyes closed.

  "She bleeds herself for them," Hilden added. "I know that’s why her arm was cut, that she wouldn't mate with you."

  "She said her blood was too pure for me." Taran all but spat the words. "I know a warlord will never mate with a slave of Landis."

  Hilden studied him then rose and crossed to the bed. He tugged the Book of the Damned from beneath a pillow.

  "I’ve watched over her for many years now, and I know Tiyan's strength comes from her blood. I don't understand it, but the secret is in here," he said, presenting the book. "You must read it."

  Taran accepted it, once again unsettled by the darkness clinging to the book.

  "I hope you can help her," Hilden said.

  "And if I have other intentions?" he challenged. "If I am another Memon or Sirian trying to take her kingdom?"

  "The queen has killed before the Corcoran attackers."

  His words surprised him. The woman professing to shield and heal her people had blood on her hands?

  "She’ll be back early tomorrow," Hilden said. "I’ll make the announcement at dawn. You may stay here."

  Taran said nothing. He remained in place for a long moment after Hilden left. Nothing but the crackle and soft light of the hearth disturbed the room, aside from the cold book in his hands. Uneasy, he placed it across the chamber on the table once more.

  Her scent drove him mad! He wiped his face restlessly before stripping off his clothing. He placed his weapons on a pillow and tossed himself into the bed, at once sinking into the soft comfort. The entire bed smelled of nothing but her. He sighed and rolled onto his side, clutching a Rissa-scented pillow in his arms. Too restless to sleep, he tossed the pillow across the bed and snatched another, his gaze settling on the book.

  He crossed the chamber and flipped the book over carefully. It was old and heavy, its covers made of wood smoothed by years of wear. It smelled of musty parchment pages that were cut in different sizes and poorly bound.

  He opened it, once again curious as to why it was written in a language he had never heard spoken in any of the kingdoms. The book was filled with disturbing sketched drawings of men and demons locked in combat.

  He studied the pictures and began puzzling through the words, determined to discover why a woman who could not read books chose to keep this one in her chamber.

  Chapter 6

  CHAPTER SIX

  Excerpt from The Book of the Damned,

  Sixth Warlord of Tiyan

  I’ve never known anything but war, from the time I was old enough to ride a horse, until now, when I rule as the oldest of all Tiyan rulers. I’ve outlived two advisors and three mates…I purged the kingdoms to the east of their evil ways.

  As old and frail as I am, I still wish to fight the barbarians, but my advisor warns me I’ll soon follow the path of my mad father. The creature tells me otherwise and cheers me on whenever I take the head of another cursed barbarian. Their women and children fall beneath my sword…the joy we feel…

  ***

  "Vara."

  The muscular man turned at his name, staring hard into the brush where she hid. He appeared to be alone, and she took a deep breath to still her hammering heart before emerging into the small clearing lit by the moon. The resemblance between father and son was enough to make her stop two steps into the clearing. Shadows made his appearance sinister. One of his hands rested on the hilt of his sword.

  "Who are you?" he demanded.

  Rissa hesitated, fear skating through her. Hilden, the only man she trusted, trusted this man as well. She wiped sweaty palms on the men’s breeches she wore.

  "Speak, boy! If I have not cleaved your head, ’tis because I took an oath to kin to spare you. Do not try my patience!"

  Anger crossed through eyes as green as spring buds. She pushed back the hood on her cloak to meet the man’s gaze. Vara’s jaw clenched hard enough for muscles on either side to tick. He searched her face silently.

  "I learned of your desire for your father’s kingdom," she started.

  Surprise registered across his chiseled features, and he took a step forward.

  "We are not allies, though we are both enemies of the same man!" he snapped. "What a foolish creature you are! My father would gift me his kingdom if I brought you to him."

  The creature stirred within her, sensing the threat.

  "You won’t," she replied.

  Vara’s hand dropped from his sword hilt, and he stared hard at her.

  "I am not your ally," he repeated.

  "I have no allies," she said in a hollow tone. "But I have something your father wants, and I have something you need if you are earnest about saving your people."

  "I need nothing from you I cannot take when my father defeats your kingdom," he assured her. Vara turned to leave.

  "Your father’s madness is near its end," she whispered. "Have you never wondered why your lands are barren and your people plagued? Do you wonder if the madness will take you?"

  He paused.

  "Hilden told you of my father’s madness?"

  "I saw it in his eyes. It's the same madness that runs in my blood."

  Vara turned. Rissa removed a dirk and slit open her palm, displaying it to him. He hesitated before stepping toward her to see the black laced blood dripping to the earth.

  "My father’s blood runs black," he said.

  "And yours?"

  He shook his head.

  "The creature in your father will need to take a new host soon," she said. "You must avoid mixing your blood with his and kill any whose does, or the creature will continue to destroy your people."

  She wrapped her hand and lowered it. She withdrew a bladder and handed it to him. He made no move to take it.

  "’Tis not water but blood. My blood. It is what keeps Tiyan’s lands bountiful and my people from disease. If you doubt me and my intent, you cannot doubt what mere drops of my blood will do to protect your people."

  "Why do you think I will help you?"

  Rissa met his gaze with a wan smile. He took the bladder with a frown.

  "My fate is sealed," she replied. "I do not ask your help for me, but for the people of Tiyan and Landis. If your father falls completely to the madness, your people will suffer more than they do now. I was told you are a man with a heart meant to lead his people away from their pain."

  "Perhaps we are both fools," he countered.

  "Perhaps," she allowed. "I would ask my fellow fool for a boon."

  His jaw ticked again, and she held her breath, waiting. His face remained emotionless, but she sensed the struggle within his breast. At last his eyes fell to the bladder in his hands.

  "If this does as you say, I will grant you your boon. If it does not, I will lead the attack into your kingdom," he warned.

  She gave a curt nod. "I will ask my boon when next we meet," she responded. "I must go."

  She turned away. He caught her arm.

  "I will take you the safe route. Hilden asked this of me," he said quietly.

  She returned safely for the first time in a fortnight. When she trekked through the lit halls of her home it was well past midnight - -even Sirian would be sleeping. Hilden had greeted her at the walls and escorted her to the center of the city lest she be challenged by patrolling guards. He left her at the entrance to the city's hold, and she continued to her chambers unimpeded.

  She wiped her face as she walked and tugged off the hood she wore to cover her hair. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a good night’s rest before facing Sirian the next morning. She sighed, too tired to consider her next step. She had not the training for tactics or strategies. Sirian, however, could not be permitted to continue his treasonous actions.

  The beast within had been restless the past two days, prowling the thawing area of her chest. She rubbed the area beneath her collarbone with a frown, unable to understand the demon’s movement. It had stirred before, but not with the warm tingle melting its icy cage. This time, it wouldn't go back into hibernation.

  She pushed open the door to her chambers. The thought of a hot bath made her muscles quake with anticipation. The fire provided the only light in the large, airy chamber, its glow and shadows flickering across the room. The scent of jasmine floated from the bathing chamber. She reached its entrance before she heard the low voice.

  "You take too many risks."

  She froze.

  "Leave your city unprotected?"

  She turned. Taran’s large frame blocked her path to the door.

  "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

  Taran made no move toward her. She could not see his face in the shadows but felt his anger.

  "Where’s your master?" she prodded at his silence.

  "I have no master," he said in a soft voice.

  "What do you want?" she asked.

  She shifted until there was a table between them, feeling very much like a cornered rabbit. Her heart had quickened for two reasons, one of which she did not want to admit.

  "You have no right to be here!" she whispered. "You’ve betrayed me once al - -"

  "I saved your life," he snapped in a whip-like voice that made her jerk. "And if I remember correctly, you swore an oath to me."

  "I swear, Taran, if your presence here hurts my people, I will do what I must to rid them of you," she promised.

  "Your people believe us to be mated. I showed them this."

  He raised his arm

  She blinked and stepped away as he began to circle the table. His face was still hidden in shadows, but there was little mistaking the tension in his frame.

  "Hilden and Bastion announced it this morning while you and Sirian were absent," he told her.

  "My blood cannot…they will…"

  The beast pressed against its boundaries, and one hand fluttered to her chest.

  "In addition to an oath, I possess one of your secrets. It's your blood that keeps Tiyan strong."

  She glared at him.

  "What is that worth to you, Rissa?"

  Fury flooded her at the taunt. She slapped him hard and shoved him back.

  "It’s worth your life in a black hole!" she snarled. "I would rather die than see you hand all I love to your sick master!"

  "No," he warned as she raised her hand again.

  Taran snatched her wrists and trapped her against him, forcing her arms crossed behind her. She strained, mad with anger and fear. His body was hot and solid against hers. She felt her blood quicken and her skin flush with awareness and heat. A strained silence stretched between them.

  "One of us will die, Taran," she said in a hushed tone. "Tiyan will not survive otherwise."

  His breathing was steady, his grip on her tight.

  "Tiyan will survive," he said just as quietly. "I will claim Tiyan."

  "You cannot be a true warlord of Tiyan," she said and strained again. "I cannot grant you that."

  "Then you will grant me my boon when I choose it," he said in a hard tone. "But I will claim Tiyan."

  Yes, Taran would claim Tiyan, for Taran would kill her to get it. The demon struggled, and she felt her body begin to give.

  "What is it worth to you?" she challenged in a thin voice. "Is it worth destroying Tiyan to win?"

  "I have no intentions of doing so."

  "You will, Taran. It is the only way Tiyan can be taken. You will make the walls fall and the Springs dry if you take Tiyan from me!" she swore.

  "And if I tell Sirian it's your blood that keeps Tiyan strong? Is this not what he's been trying to find out?" he asked, squeezing her against him.

  "You and Sirian will share a similar fate soon," she responded. "I care not what you tell him."

  "And Memon?"

  "I know you’ve already betrayed me, Taran. I don’t care to whom you’ve betrayed me. You will never have Tiyan."

  "Foolish woman!" he snapped, and pushed her away. "If Tiyan falls, it will fall because of your foolish will!"

  "It will be greed that destroys Tiyan. Sirian’s greed, Memon’s greed, your greed! I will fight to stop every one of you. You are no better than they are, Taran!"

  Her strength was quickly ebbing, her madness near.

  "What if I could save your people?"

  "Why? To live a worse fate under Memon’s rule?"

  "Under my rule!" Taran countered. "I would destroy Memon, something you cannot do for them!"

  His reminder of her failure left a bitter taste to her mouth.

  "Rissa - -"

  "What would you do, swear to me to protect them and swear to Memon to exploit them?" She flung the words at him. "Or have you already sworn an oath to Memon?"

  "I swear to no man."

  "So he sent you here to assume a position my people would respect while sweeping the way clear for Memon to enter and destroy all?" she continued.

  He was silent, and she considered his closed features.

  "He sent you here to kill me and assume my position."

  "Yes," Taran replied. "Only I must know the source of your power first."

  You are no better than Sirian." She spat the words. "You are far worse! It doesn’t matter. As I said, you will never take Tiyan from me!"

  "I choose you."

  "To fulfill my oath?" she questioned tersely.

  "Yes. You."

  She was quiet, thinking quickly.

  "You cannot refuse," he reminded her. "You swore on your blood."

  "I don’t understand. Me as your personal slave?" she hedged.

  "Body, soul, spirit, everything. You."

  Her heart quickened once again.

  "I have no choice but to agree."

  "We are agreed?"

  "We are agreed that I am the fulfillment of the oath," she confirmed.

  "Very well."

  She released her breath. Another long moment of silence draped over them. Rissa started toward the bathing chamber once again, rattled and exhausted.

  "I did not give you permission to leave," Taran said.

  "Sirian did teach me how to bargain, and you negotiated poorly, Taran!" she said, ignoring him. "You chose what you wanted but not when you wanted it. I will honor my end of the bargain at my convenience, not yours!"

  She slammed the door to the bathing chamber, flinching at the sounds of a loud curse and the clatter of a table smashing into the stone wall. She locked the door and stepped back, waiting for him to barge into the bathing chamber. He did not, and she sagged, fatigued.

  ***

  I choose you.

  It was too late to undo what he had done. He had not meant to speak the words. He had intended to demand her armies, her loyalty, her oath of non-interference in his plans. Instead he had…nothing.

 

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