Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  Agreeing would elicit the same fate, as there was no way her Clan could keep their lifestyle a secret from their new Na. If war with the humans was imminent, mating her or killing her would give Savyr exactly what he wanted.

  Imhara balled her fists. Neither scenario would happen. Not now. Not in a month. Not in this lifetime. Nothing would stop her making sure her Clan was safe.

  She sucked in a slow breath, trying to calm her rapid pulse. Her attention should be on the human and the plan she’d worked so hard to bring about. It was within her grasp.

  “Of course I believe you, my friend. I meant no insult,” she murmured and laid a hand on Rassan’s arm. “It’s just that we’ve waited so long for the improbable to happen. Where did you put him?”

  He nodded toward her room. “In there, on your bed. It’s the only place secure enough to hold a Light Blade.”

  “Secure enough?” Her jaw dropped and she shot a startled glance at the door. “You shackled him to my bed?”

  Deep laughter rumbled up from her Second’s chest, but it was quickly smothered when she glared at him.

  “You’d risk an enraged warrior loose in the fortress?” One dark eyebrow winged high on his forehead as he folded his brawny arms. “Because you know that’s what he’ll be when he wakes up.”

  “But to manacle him? He’s not a slave, Rassan.”

  “I know that but he doesn’t. Until you can convince him he’s not, I won’t risk anyone’s safety, let alone yours, by leaving him unfettered.” He shrugged, a grin still twitching his lips. “Besides, your bed is the only one equipped with chains strong enough to hold him. It was the most logical place to put him.”

  Nothing turned off males with the ambition of mating her to become the new Kaal Na faster than flaunting her preferences as a Na’Reishi whose proclivities extended to taking unwilling human lovers.

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “But the chains are only for show—” The idea of using them on anyone . . . She grimaced and shook her head. “Keeping him locked up will only reinforce the message that he’s my slave.”

  The smile disappeared from Rassan’s face. “Make no mistake, Imhara, he will try to kill you.” His large hands gripped her shoulders. “Talk to him. Explain what you can.”

  “I can really see a Light Blade warrior taking me on my word that this Clan follows the Old Ways.” Her retort was harsher than she intended it to be. “Convincing him isn’t going to be easy, Rassan.”

  “Give him time to absorb it. Don’t free him without someone else being there with you. Promise me that.”

  Imhara nodded, sighing heavily. Those rescued from the slave-raids were always suspicious, at least until they experienced life here. How long would it take to convince the Light Blade?

  A familiar gnawing sensation roiled in her gut. “There may not be enough time between now and the Enclave for him to adjust.”

  While establishing her controversial reputation had been a temporary measure, Imhara wondered if her plan to elicit a Light Blade’s help to save her Clan was too ambitious. She bit her lip. To him, she was his enemy. He’d spent his whole life killing her race. What if he wouldn’t trust her?

  Rassan placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Wait until problems arise before worrying about them, Imhara.” His tone softened. “You’re tired. Perhaps you should wait until morning before meeting the Light Blade.”

  She shook her head. “I want to be there when he wakes. He’s going to need answers.”

  “Then I’ll stay with him. You take my room. Rest. Sleep.”

  Warmed again by Rassan’s concern and his unswerving loyalty, she met the younger man’s violet gaze. “Thank you for the offer, but this is my responsibility.”

  The dark-haired warrior inclined his head. She turned toward her door.

  “Imhara”—his hand caught her elbow—“your weapons,” he murmured. “Let me take them. No need to give the Light Blade any incentive to break free.”

  She grunted and unbuckled her belt, the metal jingling softly in the quietness of the corridor. “More than he already has, don’t you mean?”

  As Rassan looped the belt over his shoulder, his grin returned. “Patience and time, Imhara. Give the human both and you’ll achieve your goal. Remember that.” She nodded. “And when you need a break, come wake me and I’ll watch over him.”

  Rassan left her standing in front of her bedroom door, his boots thudding on the stone floor as he walked to his chamber at the end of the hallway. Imhara waited until he went in before placing her hand on the metal latch of her door.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and entered her room.

  Chapter 4

  AREK fought his way back to consciousness, the need to know why he still lived stalking him like a lira driving its prey into an ambush. It took an eternity to shake off the fog numbing his mind, but little by little, he pieced together a series of impressions.

  His muscles ached, like he’d been in one position too long, yet whatever he rested on was soft and warm. Coupled with that, he lay on his back, his arms pulled back, stretched wide to either side of his head. He flexed them and tried to move, but cold metal bit into his wrists and the sound of chains rasped against metal and wood. The same happened when he tried to move his feet.

  His heavy eyelids finally opened. He stared up into a shadowy darkness that wavered and flickered. Disoriented, he blinked, wondering if he had motion sickness again. To his right, a crackling, popping sound broke the silence. A familiar sweet scent filled his nostrils.

  Flames eating needle-tree wood.

  Firelight created the dance of shadows and light, not motion sickness. He turned his head. A dying fire burned in a grate. To one side of the fireplace, a shuttered window gave no indication of the time of day, but the flames threw out enough light so that he could see he was in a small stone-walled room—

  —chained to a bed.

  Every remaining wisp of fog in his mind cleared. The softness of a pillow dipped beneath his head as he craned his head back. The bed was a thick, four-poster, with intricate metalwork across the head and, as he looked downward, along the foot rail.

  He frowned. His last memory was of lying facedown in the dirt, a Na’Reish warrior straddling his back, then . . . nothing. Now he lay between sunlight-scented sheets, a hand-sewn cover on top of them smoothed over him, as if the occupant of the room cared for his well-being.

  His breath caught. Had he been sold while unconscious? Who had bought him? The why was evident—he lay in some Na’Reishi’s bed—and it sent chills all over him. Being bought to labor at the beck and call of a demon was sickening enough, but the idea of serving as a bed-slave . . . His skin prickled and adrenaline spiked through his veins as another, far more frightening possibility unfurled.

  Was the Na’Reishi male or female?

  Mother of Light, it didn’t matter. He’d be free or dead, probably the latter, before he would be used or submit to either. But Lady be damned if he was going to wait around for his new owner to appear.

  His muscles and joints were stiff, and more than a little sore, but that didn’t stop him twisting and tugging at his bonds, keeping his movements quiet, testing for any give until the skin under the manacles throbbed and bled.

  Arek hissed a soft curse. He glared at the thick metal shackles banding his wrists. They held fast. He remained tethered, arms and legs spread.

  Helpless.

  With a silent groan, he collapsed back onto the pillow, the air in the chamber now cool on his sweat-soaked body. He welcomed the ache in his wrists and ankles but not the futility souring the back of his throat.

  Lifting his head again, his gaze swept the room, looking for something, anything that might help him escape—and froze. In the corner, where the shadows were darkest, he made out a slender figure sitting in a rocker-chair. He tensed, every muscle in his body tightening as the seconds passed.

  A log in the fireplace cracked as it collapsed and sent up a flare of fre
sh flames. The light banished some of the shadows wreathing the lone figure. She slept, oblivious of his scrutiny, another hand-sewn blanket, twin to the one that covered him, tucked over her lap.

  And female she was.

  A slave tasked to keep watch over him?

  The strands of a ponytail draped over her shoulder, covering the rounded curve of a breast, the locks long enough to rest on the arm of the chair. The sheen was so black it was an ebony blue and seemed to absorb the light from the fire. Unraveled, he guessed her hair would fall to the middle of her back, thick and wavy after being freed from the tie. Long enough if she was astride a man’s body that just the tilt of her head would slide the strands over his hips or chest in a silky caress.

  Heat shot through him, spiraling southward so fast he almost groaned. As pleasant as that image was, it was neither the time nor place to be distracted. Arek blinked in an effort to clear the picture from his mind.

  In the dim light, the woman’s face remained lax with sleep. Her smooth skin had a sun-kissed tan that spoke of time spent outdoors. She seemed no older than him, someone who had seen nearly three decades of life. Her features were striking rather than beautiful—a high forehead, defined cheekbones, a slender nose, and a rounded yet firm jaw. Present circumstances aside, he’d have looked twice if their paths had crossed elsewhere.

  She shifted in her slumber, the light of the fire flickering across her face. Full and expressive, the color of her lips looked dark, almost black. Arek frowned. Were the shadows playing tricks on him? The woman’s head turned, her cheek settling against the back of the rocker.

  Goose bumps prickled over every inch of his skin. A dusting of fine, black splotches, the same ebony blue color as her hair, marked the side of her face. They extended onto her cheek and jawbone, becoming larger in shape and size before continuing down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.

  He didn’t need to see where the skin markings went beyond the collar. They covered the back of her torso, buttocks, and legs. Similar patterns marked the bodies of the demons he’d killed in battle.

  She was Na’Reish, not a slave. Nausea rolled in his gut at his previous lustful thoughts.

  Was this demon his new owner?

  His lip curled as a dark heat seared its way through his veins. A gut-deep growl rumbled up from his chest.

  She stirred. Black lashes lifted to reveal amethyst-colored eyes that glowed in the firelight. A couple of blinks cleared the sleep haze from them, then her gaze locked with his.

  “You’re awake!” The sleep-husky voice held a note of excitement.

  Slender hands threw back the blanket covering her. Long, breeches-clad legs unfolded and bare feet touched the stone floor. She rose from the chair, all six feet of her. Given her willowy build, her height didn’t surprise him.

  Her shirt hung past her hips, untucked for comfort, but it clung to her curved form well enough for him to see the lean lines and flex of honed muscle, a body as fit and toned as any warrior. One who had trained for years.

  Unexpected for a Na’Reishi female, particularly given that Na’Reish culture was strictly patriarchal. Not that he’d seen many females during his time on border patrol, just a few from a safe distance, and always as part of a well-guarded caravan.

  This female was dressed as a warrior, yet those travelling with the caravans had always worn dresses and finery. He’d only ever seen males on the battleground, never a female. Her father, any brothers, or other males in her Clan would be tasked with her protection; therefore, the idea of her being a part of a patrol was doubtful.

  So, why would a female of her rank feel the need to learn the warrior arts?

  His musing was cut short as the Na’Reishi female smiled and took a step toward the bed. Firelight glinted on pointed teeth, overshadowing the innate gracefulness of her walk.

  Arek’s blood ran ice cold. He sucked in a hard breath and strained against his bonds. When they refused to give again, his gaze slashed to hers and he bared his teeth. “Come any closer, demon, and I’ll kill you!”

  Chapter 5

  THE demon stopped short of the bed, swaying backward as if she’d hit some unseen barrier. Arek expected an arrogant retort, a blaze of anger, even some sort of physical abuse in response, not hesitation or the calm yet curious narrowing of her gaze as she considered him.

  “How would you achieve that given your present predicament?” she asked.

  Her voice, a low, sultry rasp, brushed across all his senses like a caress, sent his blood surging through his veins. His skin prickled with heat, the swift rush of desire catching him off guard.

  Merciful Mother, how could he feel such a thing when he knew what she was? He twisted his wrists against the manacles, fought to control his body, hoping the fresh pain would dull the unwanted reaction.

  “I didn’t realize the Lady’s warriors had the power to kill with a thought.” The upward twitch of her mouth served only to stroke his anger.

  “Had I such a gift, you would now lie dead on the floor,” he growled. “If you think my threat idle enough to mock me, move closer, and let’s see how well you trust these chains.”

  Arek called on his power, felt the answering spark deep inside him, and hoped she’d dare. He didn’t need a blade to focus his Gift. One careless touch, just the brush of her hand against any bare skin, and he could push it through his flesh into hers. It’d hurt, and would feel like he’d touched fire-seared metal drawn from a furnace, but he would kill her.

  She altered her stance, a subtle shifting of weight onto the balls of her feet as if she were preparing for his attack, a move he’d seen a thousand times on the training grounds in the Light Blade compound. Again he wondered why a Na’Reishi female would need to know how to defend herself.

  “I’m sorry, Light Blade.” Her soft apology was accompanied by a grimace. “My attempt at humor was inappropriate.”

  Her regret seemed almost sincere.

  “I find nothing amusing about this situation.”

  “No, there certainly isn’t.” Her chin lifted. “Let’s begin again. My name is Imhara Kaal. I’m the Na of this Clan.”

  He snorted. “I don’t give a copper chit what your name is, demon. It doesn’t change the fact I’m chained to your bed and held here against my will.”

  “Na or Na’Reishi, not demon.”

  “What?”

  “There’s so much I have to tell you, but this is important.” Resolve deepened the huskiness of her voice. “If you are to survive in my world, you must show respect. To me. To those of my Clan. To all Na’Reish, even if it goes against every fiber of your being.”

  “If you think I’ll submit to any demon, then you’re a fool.” Arek jerked against his bonds. Metal clashed against wood, bit into his wrists. “I’m not your slave!”

  One dark eyebrow lifted slowly. “Your current circumstances imply otherwise.” Arek’s breath hissed from between his teeth. He curled his hands into fists. Her expression softened. “On your side of the border, you were a free man. A Light Blade warrior, no doubt highly respected by your fellow warriors and society alike. Your people value equality and personal choice.

  “I understand all that, but in Na’Reish territory you will be seen as nothing more than a slave. We live in a caste-based system. Power assigns rank. Rank defines privilege. Privilege determines choice. Here humans reside at the very bottom. You have no privilege, or rank, or power. And that eliminates choice. Your people are vessels to serve ours. Whenever, however, and in whatever fashion suits our pleasure.”

  Every word out of her mouth twisted his insides tighter and tighter. His blood heated and another growl erupted from his throat. This was why he’d answered the call to be a Light Blade. No one deserved to be used or degraded like that.

  Once captured, how had his mother ever endured being a slave?

  Only a child of three when she’d been taken, his memories of her were few. They were more sensations or emotions rather than images, but he’d bee
n told plenty of stories growing up, and as a warrior he’d seen evidence of how the Na’Reish treated their slaves.

  Annika, the Na’Chi half sister he never knew existed until recently, was living proof of what his mother had suffered.

  Rape.

  Forced to conceive and bear a child of mixed blood.

  Abuse of the worst kind, but then Na’Reish demons were renowned for such atrocities, particularly Savyr, their leader, the demon who’d taken her to his bed.

  Arek ground his teeth together, sweat prickling at his temples. How many times had she been forced to submit in the months Savyr had imprisoned her? How many times had she wished for death rather than tolerate his touch? At the moment of Annika’s birth and his mother’s death, had she rejoiced in thwarting his plan for revenge?

  Mother and child, both used as pawns, a means to an end. Arek’s soul pulsed with too familiar grief while his mind rebelled at a bitter truth.

  He now faced a similar fate.

  His heart beat hard and his blood ran hot, demanding he give voice to his fury. The ache in his jaw grew the longer he clenched it, but he’d put up with a hundred times the pain before giving in to his temper. There was no way Imhara Kaal would get the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.

  “Na or Na’Reishi—either term is the correct way to address me. I’ll teach you how to identify other ranks later.” The solemnity of her vow vibrated in her voice. “To call us demon will be seen as disrespect. You’ll risk punishment or death depending on whom you offend. And the sooner you learn this, the faster you’ll settle into your new life, the safer you will be.”

  Her amethyst gaze bore into his with an intensity that prickled his skin. Did she think dying frightened him? Every ride along the border, every patrol completed, every skirmish engaged in with the Na’Reish, he’d prepared himself for the Final Journey. As for a new life, he intended to escape at the first opportunity or die trying.