by Tami Lund
Sabine had been summoned by the king.
It was a first for her. So many firsts in the last two days. As per the way former kings had ruled, their leader would hardly notice someone like her, who was relatively low in the coterie’s pecking order.
She dragged her feet and took as much time as she dared as she made her way through the maze of corridors that would eventually lead her to the private chamber belonging to the King of the Lightbearers. Sabine had only lived twenty summers, yet her people had spent countless years as nomadic beings, and as a result had learned to create these basic, efficient dwellings wherever they attempted to settle. Each and every one knew that at the first sign of a shifter, they would pack up and leave again.
When the current king took over last summer, he had led them south to central Mesoamerica. Purely by chance, they had come across the carved-out cliffs alongside a small riverbed. A quick inspection told them the structures had been abandoned for some time, and another inspection led them to believe no other beings were settled in the immediate area. So they had declared the cave within the cliffs their home and set about making it as comfortable as possible, using both magic and the natural resources at their fingertips.
The cave offered protection from the heat of the day and the infrequent rainstorms, but they also depleted a Lightbearer’s magic, as once someone stepped inside, they were entirely cut off from the sun’s regenerating rays. And Lightbearers required a steady dose of sunlight in order to live.
Sabine knew the king, of course. The coterie was small, and the numbers dwindled each time the shifters caught up with them, so it was impossible not to at least see him in passing on occasion. She knew he was young, only a few summers older than herself, and had been in the position for less than a year, having taken over when his uncle, the previous king, had been killed by shifters.
He was also quite attractive, would have been considered so even before he ascended to the throne. And he was a gentleman. He was polite to the ladies and always willing to lend a hand to someone in need, as she well knew. He had also, upon becoming king, carried on his predecessors’ game plan, and had led the Lightbearers from their previous home to these cliffs in this warm, sunny climate.
“I presume you aren’t waiting for an invitation, since you were summoned, which ought to be invite enough.”
Sabine blinked rapidly; the world came into focus, and she realized she was standing before the entrance to king’s private chamber. He lounged in the doorway, looking surprisingly at ease, with a teasing smile playing at his lips. Quite handsome lips. They were full and soft, and a dimple bloomed into being in his left cheek when he smiled. Sabine’s heart sped up to a gallop, and it had nothing to do with the reason for the summons. Or perhaps it did.
She attempted a curtsy and somehow managed to snag the edge of her dress. The action propelled her forward, toward the king. He opened his arms and caught her, pulling her flush against his body, holding her there for long seconds. Finally, he released her and stepped away, turning slightly to the side and motioning for her to step into his chamber, without meeting her eye.
A swath of sunlight blinded her for a moment, distracting her from the awkward interaction. She lifted her hand to protect her eyes while at the same time her body soaked up the rejuvenating rays.
“How is that possible?” she blurted. They had to be near the very center of the labyrinth of caves in which they had made their home. If there was a hole in the ceiling of this chamber, it struck her as incredibly dangerous to have their king sleeping here, in the dark, at his most vulnerable.
Although a quick peek through her eyelashes told her she could not imagine this man being vulnerable at all. He radiated as much strength and confidence as the shifter she had encountered the day before. Xander, his friend had called him.
“It’s quite genius, if I do say so myself,” the king said, as he stepped up next to her and pointed at the area through which the sun was shining. “A series of looking glasses. That hole does not lead directly outside, but there are many cracks and crevices hardly big enough to allow a mouse entrance. It took me a while to manipulate them with my magic, but eventually I was able to set them up so that they reflect off one another and the sun outside, allowing me the ability to regenerate even when I am holed up in here, trying to solve our seemingly never-ending shifter problem.”
“That really is quite impressive.” Sabine flushed and quickly stammered, “I mean, of course it is. What else would one expect from a king?”
“The ability to protect his people, for one thing. Come, sit.”
He indicated a ladder-back wooden chair in front of a sturdy, simply designed desk in the far corner. Once she was seated, he strode around the desk and sat in the more comfortable looking leather armchair, but immediately shot to his feet, a chagrined look on his face. “Would you prefer this one? I know that is not a comfortable seat.”
Sabine shook her head. “I am fine. Really.”
He apparently decided not to argue with her, but he did use his magic to summon a feathered-filled pillow from the sofa situated almost directly under the shaft of light. It bumped against Sabine’s shoulder, and she laughed as she grabbed it and placed it on the chair before seating herself again.
“Happy now?” She was amazed she could be so relaxed while alone with the king in his chamber, yet she could not help it. He apparently had a knack for putting others at ease.
“Immensely.”
He gathered the pile of scrolls sprawled haphazardly on the desk, leaving the largest document lying flat before them. It was a drawing of the Americas. Stars had been crudely drawn onto the map in various places, and it took Sabine a moment to determine they represented the many places Lightbearers had temporarily settled until the shifters found them once again.
“Are you thinking the same thing I am?” the king asked after he deposited the scrolls on the floor behind his chair.
Sabine looked up. “I am not sure, your grace.”
“James. I insist. Tell me about your expedition to the berry patch yesterday.”
He knew. How much he knew, she was not sure. When she had returned, carrying a sword and dragging Maria’s dead body, there had been a flurry of activity, as Lightbearers poured from the cave to greet her. Maria’s sister began shrieking and threw herself upon the decimated body. A male Lightbearer Sabine barely knew dropped to his knees and wept, talking between sobs about how he had intended to ask Maria to be his mate. A group of men who acted as though they were in charge had pulled the body from Sabine’s grasp and carried it away, trailed by various friends and relatives and other onlookers, while one man stayed and questioned her about the sword she had still clutched in her hand.
The rest had been a blur as the reality of what had happened finally hit her, and Sabine had fallen into a shocked stupor. A healer led her to her own small chamber, performed her healing magic, and apparently added a sleeping spell, because the next thing Sabine remembered, she woke in her bed, wearing a thin dressing gown. When she pulled on a dress and laced up a dark blue overlay and left her chamber to seek the sun’s rays, she discovered it was mid-morning and the king wanted to see her as soon as she was able.
“Maria and I found it by accident. We hadn’t meant to wander so far away from the coterie.” Her eyes welled with tears; that had been the last time her friend would harass her into doing what was supposed to be her job.
“Do you want to talk about it?” the king asked in a gentle voice.
Sabine shrugged.
“Tell me about Maria. I did not know her well.”
Despite the pain of losing her friend, Sabine couldn’t help the smile pulling at her lips. “Maria took pity on me, initially, but eventually we became the dearest of friends. She was exceptionally good at gathering food and had an abundance of patience for me. Food gathering and cooking are not tasks at which I excel, even though it is my responsibility within the coterie.”
“Perhaps you do not try hard enough.”
Sabine bristled. “I have. I do.” She shot to her feet and paced to the shaft of sunlight. “Not all Lightbearers are perfect.”
He remained seated at the desk, his hands flat on the wooden surface. “No, we are not. None of us are.” He lifted one hand, palm facing out, when she opened her mouth to speak. “Not even your king, so do not say it. If I were perfect, Maria would not be dead, and the shifters would not have found us.”
She closed her mouth, having no retort to his words. After a moment’s pause, he waved at the chair, indicating she should resume sitting. Reluctantly, she left the regenerating bit of sunlight and sat across from him.
“You do not wish to be a food gatherer. What do you wish to be?”
Confident. “I want to do something that helps the coterie, and that I’m good at.”
The king leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Fair request.”
“But that is not how it works. My mother is a food gatherer, as was her mother. My destiny is to mate with someone of my same station and continue in my parents’ footsteps.”
A dark cloud crossed his face, but then he shook his head and it was gone. “As you know—or at least, you were taught in your studies—some member of my family has ruled our people since the fae sent us to this world, five hundred years ago.”
He waited for her nod before he continued. “For the first hundred years, we lived in relative peace. It took the shifters a while to determine they wanted our magic. My great-grandfather’s theory was that at some point, a shifter witnessed a Lightbearer’s death, saw the flare of light that occurs when we die, and connected that to a release of magic. From there, the idea was formed that they could somehow collect or inherit our magic when we died.
“Still, the risk was minor, at first, as shifters lived in packs, but they were not organized beyond that. They did not make it a point to associate with other packs, share knowledge—or, in this case—legends. The spread of the rumor that to kill us is to inherit our magic has been slow. Unfortunately, now, it is such a widespread belief, it seems we cannot escape the murdering bastards.”
This time, it was he who surged to his feet and stormed across the chamber to the seam of sunlight. Bathed in the light, he made a beautiful image, looking like one of the golden-haired angels humans whispered of. Sabine’s lower abdomen clenched in a not unpleasant way.
She had an urge to follow him, to wrap her arms around him, to support him, to offer to do whatever she could to help him find a solution to their frustrating shifter problem. She was so surprised by her own desires, she clutched the seat of the chair as if to keep herself seated, and blinked owlishly, while he paced to and fro.
“Is it true you summoned a sword yesterday?” He stopped moving and watched her, an intense look on his face. She felt a flush creep up her chest and cover her face, and she dropped her gaze to her lap, allowing her hair to fall forward to hide the signs of her embarrassment.
Her body jerked when he touched her, grasping her arms and pulling her to her feet. Warmth spread through her, a curious sensation that caused her nipples to harden. She fought the urge to squirm, and lifted her face to look him in the eye. Just as she had vowed not to cower before the shifters, so she determined not to in front of her king.
“Why are you embarrassed?” he demanded. “Is it true?”
She paused and then nodded. “I was—I did not want to die.”
“I do not want any of us to die, at least not until we are old and have lived full lives. Why are you so uncomfortable with this subject?”
Sabine cleared her throat and admitted the truth. “I do not want to disappoint you. Or my parents. Or anyone within the coterie. My job is to gather food.”
“We have already established you are no good at that job, nor do you wish to do it. Yet, the healer tells me you had a sword in your hand when you returned to the coterie last night.”
He tugged her toward the shaft of sunlight that was steadily creeping across the room. “Can you do it again?” He sounded as eager as a child wishing to play with a new toy. He released her arms and grasped her hands.
“I—I am not sure. I did not do it deliberately. It was—I think it happened because I was angry. And frightened. But I am so tired of running. I wanted to fight. If I was going to die, I did not want to do it while running away. I wanted to face my adversary head on. I wanted—”
Magic flared again, a glowing globe around their hands. They both stared at it, transfixed, until it faded.
“So few of the males in the coterie have the ability to summon a sword,” the king whispered, while still watching their entwined fingers. “And yet I never thought to ask our females if they have the ability and might be interested in the task of protecting our people.” He gave her hands a shake. “Do it again.”
“I told you, I did not do it deliberately. It just—”
“It happens when your emotions are running high. What was it like? How did you escape?”
Well, there was the one shifter who seemed more inclined to chat with her than kill her. And the one who murdered her friend, coming up behind her. “I killed one of them.”
“One of them?”
“There were two. The one I killed had already murdered Maria.”
Magic flared again and coalesced into a ball of light, which then grew into a long, thin line. The king leaped away from her just as the light manifested into a sword. He stared at the object in Sabine’s hand for long seconds before his gaze lifted to her face.
“Breathtaking,” he whispered. “May I?” He indicated the weapon. Sabine shrugged and handed it to him. He shifted it from hand to hand a few times before holding it in his right hand and twirling it ’round and ’round before he finally made several slashes and stabs, as if he were attacking his desk.
“You have a natural ability,” she said.
“I would not have been named king if I were not capable of conjuring as well as handling a sword.” He offered her the hilt. “How about you? Show me what you did when you killed the shifter.” He stepped behind his desk to watch from a safe distance.
Sabine grasped the sword with both hands and swung it lengthwise, remembering the way it felt as the steel glided through the air, the jolt when it reached the shifter, the surge of magic her body automatically produced to help her pull the sword through her enemy’s flesh. Her magic flared again, and the sword swung ’round with such power she nearly lost her footing. The king hurried over and grasped her shoulders from behind.
“Careful. That was quite impressive.” He did not release his hold and instead began a gentle massage. Sabine felt herself relax. A small sigh escaped and the sword disappeared. “You are able to control its disappearance?” he asked, his voice close to her ear.
“I believe it has to do with my emotional state as well. When I no longer feel threatened or am able to relax, it disappears.”
“You will be able to control it, with time. And practice.”
What did he mean by that? She had not known what to expect when he asked about her ability to conjure a sword. If anything, she had assumed he would be angry with her for doing it, even if it had occurred in reaction to the appearance of the shifters.
Instead he seemed pleased, impressed even. And the way he touched her back helped her to forget her trepidation as well as her sadness over losing her friend. It caused other reactions as well, internal ones, similar to how she felt when he cupped her face and healed her the day before. Except amplified. Her thighs warmed. Her nipples hardened. She wanted to turn around and kiss him.
The king!
He continued to knead her back, brushing her mane of hair over her shoulder so he could trail his fingers down her spine. It was the first time in her life a man had touched her so intimately. Sabine was not sure what to think, but she knew she did not want him to stop.
“Have you been promised to another, Sabine?” He reached her lower back and began working his way up to her shoulders again.
He abruptly stopped the massage and turned her around to face him. When she would not meet his eye, he cupped her chin and forced her gaze up to catch with his own.
“James. My name is James Bennett.”
“I know your name, your grace.” Everyone in the coterie knew his given name. His uncle, the previous king, had taken a mate, but they had never produced children, so when he died last summer, James had been named king.
“Say it, Sabine. Say my name.”
She twisted her head, pulling her chin out of his grasp, and took a step away from him. “I do not understand what you want from me.”
He followed, stepping close enough to touch her again. His touch did strange yet delicious things to her body. Her knees wobbled and she nearly fell forward into his arms. She wanted him to touch her, not just on her back, but in other places, places that ached for him. Her lips. Her breasts. The dark, wet place between her thighs.
She took a chance and lifted her gaze. He stared at her so intently, it stole her breath. Magic sizzled between them, hot and potent, more so even than when she had summoned the sword.
“I feel it, too,” he whispered, as if she had made the observation out loud. “May I kiss you, Sabine?”
She had only ever been kissed by one man before, and he hadn’t asked, nor had she encouraged his affections. She was flattered the king asked, and yes, she desperately wanted him to kiss her. She must have murmured her acquiescence, because his smile widened, the dimple appeared, and then his face drew closer and closer, until his lips brushed against hers, and Sabine parted her own purely by instinct.
He threaded his hands in her hair and held her tightly while slanting his mouth over hers, gently encouraging her tongue to play. Sizzling sensations shot through her body, weakening her knees further. She grasped his shirt sleeves, half afraid she would collapse to the ground, with no interest in ending the kiss. She wanted it to go on forever, yet she knew—not by personal experience, but by the instruction her mother had given her in preparation for one day taking a mate—that there was more to this aspect of a man and woman’s relationship.
She marveled that this was happening at all, let alone with her king, a virile male she had, in her own naïve way, lusted after for longer than she cared to admit. Yet no matter how vivid her fantasies might have gotten, she had never dared to believe she would one day kiss him, literally, in the flesh. The shock of that caused her to turn her head to the side, breaking the kiss a scant moment before she heard the sound of boots slapping the stone floor of the corridor outside. The king let her go and took a step away just as another Lightbearer burst through the woven fabric that served as a door to his chamber.
“Your grace,” the man said, gasping for breath between words. His gaze flicked over Sabine and there was a question in his eye, but he did not speak it out loud. Instead, he said, “There is a situation. A youngling has gone missing.” His gaze went to Sabine again. “We fear the shifters have found the coterie.”
The king did not hesitate. “Pull together a search party. Find three of our strongest, most magically powerful warriors.” He glanced at Sabine. “The rest must stay here and prepare for a possible attack.”
Sabine grabbed his sleeve. “Take me with you,” she said before she lost her nerve.
“You are a female. You will only slow us down. And we will have to worry about protecting you as well,” the visitor proclaimed before the king could respond.
Anger coursed through Sabine’s system and magic surged to her hand, forming a sword with almost no effort on her part. The other Lightbearer scrambled backward until his back was pressed against the wall, as far away from her as he could get and still be in the same room. His head whipped to and fro, glancing at Sabine and then the king and then back again.
The king grinned and, ignoring the other man in the room, spoke to Sabine. “A small part of me would rather you stay here and protect the coterie.”
“A rather large part of me thinks I should go with you and protect our king.”
He laughed and then waved at the other Lightbearer. “Go. Gather the warriors. Time is of the essence if we have any hope of saving the youngling.”
The man instantly obeyed and ran from the room. The king turned to Sabine again.
“I am sick of running, Sabine. I am sick of my people getting killed, and each time it happens, we run away into the night, searching for yet another place to hide. I imagine even now half the coterie has already packed their belongings and are waiting for my dictate to leave. But I do not want to. Not that I am particularly attached to this area; I just no longer want to run.”
Sabine sucked in a breath. “I feel the exact same way, your grace.”
“James,” he chided. “Say it.”
She stared into his eyes. “James.” It was the smallest whisper. It felt both foreign and yet right to speak to her king using his given name.
Chapter 3