Nothing else mattered.
Jaw clenching, teeth aching from the pressure, she rounded the end of the bed to sit on the edge of it, close to the Light Blade. His body went rigid. Her stomach twisted at the furious expression on his face.
“Your purpose for being here is more important than you realize.” She curled her fingers around his elbow, careful to keep a layer of his shirt between his skin and hers as she exposed his inner arm. The warmth of his body, the flex of hardened muscle sent a ripple of sensation through her. This close, his earthy, musky scent intrigued her. She fought the temptation to inhale more deeply and savor it. “I can’t take the risk of you escaping.”
“Get your hand off me!”
She ignored him and clamped her other hand around the shackle. His nostrils flared and he wrenched against her hold. With the restraint and her Na’Reish strength, she had little trouble pinning his arm to the pillow.
“What are you doing?” he snarled.
Heart heavy in her chest, Imhara forced the words from her throat. “What I must.”
Leaning forward, she bit into the flesh of his arm, careful not to sink her teeth too deep, just enough to break the skin and make it bleed. Saliva exploded in her mouth.
“No!” His enraged yell filled the room. Chains jangled; his body bucked and strained against his bonds as he tried to force her touch away from him.
She swallowed, his iron-rich blood coating her tongue, every taste bud demanding more, his blood as sweet and smooth as a well-aged wine. She bit back a groan of pleasure. He wouldn’t understand.
The buzz of energy from the single mouthful went straight to her head. Her senses reeled, sharpened, and it took every shred of control she had to stop herself taking more than a few swallows. Had it been that long since she’d fed?
Panting softly, Imhara drew back, unsurprised to see her hands shaking. Adrenaline raced through her veins and pumped through her heart, elevating her to a blood-high in mere seconds. Merciful Mother, his blood was potent. She licked the last lingering taste of him from her lips as she rose from the bed.
Retreat was now the wisest option. For both of them. She needed to feed properly. The scent and flavor of him would tease her mercilessly until she sated her awakened appetite. And he needed time to recover, to reconcile his fate.
Imhara headed for the door. Hand on the latch, she turned to look at the warrior. Beneath his tan, his face was pale. He stared at his arm and the puncture marks made by her teeth.
She bit her lip, sympathizing with his horror, understanding his fear and where it came from, regretting that she’d caused it, but he had to believe the blood-bond condemned him to serving her for life. He needed to assume the cravings were a part of his addiction to feed her, and to ignore them would result in death.
At least for a little while.
Fostering that untruth didn’t sit well with her. Decades of time and suppression of the Old Ways by the other Clans had bastardized the reality of the practice. Now it was used as a control measure, a parasitic way to bind a slave to their owner.
In essence, she’d done the Light Blade no harm, although she doubted he’d see it that way, even if she offered an explanation. He’d have to see the truth for himself. Later.
“I’ll kill you!” His outrage lashed at her like a whip. “I swear it!”
His curses damned her to the Underworld, and she accepted them with a small nod. Unease curled in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it aside. Her feelings didn’t matter, and for the moment, neither did his.
The survival of her Clan and his race was more important. And, as always, she was willing to accept the consequences of her actions if it meant achieving that goal.
Imhara took a deep breath. “Escaping the fortress is no longer an option, Light Blade.”
The look he speared her with was so vicious it was hard to disguise her flinch.
“I won’t be your blood-slave!”
“In time I hope you’ll come to understand why I did this.” She tried to keep her voice as steady as her resolve. “I’ll leave you alone now.” Hesitating on the threshold, she shot a last look at him over her shoulder. “Tomorrow your new life here in Kaal Fortress begins.”
With that, Imhara stepped into the darkened hallway and gently closed the door behind her, cutting off his new tirade of curses. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she fought the ache growing in her chest. Lady forgive her for deceiving the human, but her actions had gained them all some time. She’d done the right thing.
Glancing left, she considered waking Rassan to swap places with her, but there was no way she could sleep now. And the Light Blade probably wouldn’t appreciate the company. She headed in the opposite direction, along the corridor toward the stairs and the library. Until those within the fortress awoke to begin a new day, the tasks she’d put off to greet the Light Blade would keep her occupied.
But even as she lit the candelabras and settled into the cushioned chair at her desk, her thoughts were still on the human chained to her bed. Instead of sorting through the stack of missives piled on her desk, she reached for the carved box sitting next to them.
Selecting one of the incense sticks from within, she lit then placed it in the small hole drilled into the lid. For long moments she watched the glowing tip burn and smoke twirl and drift toward the darkened ceiling, and filled her lungs with the floral scent.
Imhara placed her fingertips on the intricate moon within a sun carved into the side of the box. “Lady, I pray I’ve taken the right path with this human.”
Morning would come soon enough and she’d see, because now there was no going back.
Chapter 7
“YOU look as sleep deprived as the Light Blade.”
Rassan’s deep voice jerked Imhara upright in her chair. Frowning, she stared at her surroundings, her thoughts still consumed by lists and numbers from the ledgers scattered across her desk—accounts for supplies, those owed and paid as well as provided, animal statistics, records of the new humans for the register, a stocktake of goods being stored for winter.
Blinking gritty eyes, she fought to focus on the books lining the shelves that covered the walls of the room before her gaze came to rest on the Na’Chi warrior. He stood in the library doorway dressed in conventional work breeches and shirt, not his customary leather armor. Black hair, usually tied back in a tight tail at the nape of his neck, lay in damp waves across broad shoulders.
“What were you doing visiting my room?” she asked, leaning back to stretch out the kinks in her muscles.
“Looking for you.” His dry reply was softened by the hint of a smile.
He stepped past the threshold. Her mouth twitched when she spotted the ever-present dagger sheathed at his hip. He never went anywhere unarmed, and she suspected the blade lay beneath his pillow as he slept.
“When I couldn’t find you there, I went looking in the lower levels and inner barracks. This time of the morning you’re usually visiting our newest Clan members.”
Visiting and interacting with the humans began the orientation and adjustment process. It was a ritual she took pleasure in, but this morning she hadn’t been much for company.
Imhara gestured at the work on her desk. “I’ve been catching up on a few things.”
“So I see.” Rassan folded his arms. “I talked to the humans we rescued yesterday. The Light Blade’s name is Arek.”
“Good to know.” Her smile twisted. “He didn’t volunteer his name last night, and calling him Light Blade was getting tiresome.”
Rassan chuckled softly as he covered the distance to the only other chair in the room, a low, spacious lounge placed halfway between the fireplace and the window, and sprawled in it.
“There was no last name and they say he was captured with several farmsteaders from the village of Ostare, but he’s not one of them.”
“Any of them from Ostare?” she asked, smothering a yawn.
“One. She says the Na’Reish patrol who raid
ed their village was attacked by Light Blades, but the rescue was foiled by the appearance of Meelar’s raiding party.”
“Meelar would never have let a Light Blade live.” Frowning, Imhara pushed out of her chair and strode to the window. Early-morning sunlight had yet to breach the curtain wall of the fortress and light the inner ward.
The hard-packed ground was already occupied by a small group of people, Na’Reish, Na’Chi, and human alike, all loading implements and supplies into the back of drays for work in the fields outside the walls. Lady willing, the last of this season’s crops would be harvested by dusk.
“Do they know how the Light Blade ended up among them or why he was dressed like them?” she inquired.
“No.”
She could make a few assumptions, but eventually confirmation would have to come from Arek. His cooperation was going to be considerably less forthcoming than it might have been several hours ago. Imhara fisted a hand and tapped it against the sill.
“You’re too quiet.” Rassan’s statement made her grimace. “What happened last night after I left you?”
“Everything we expected.” Turning, she gave a half shrug. “He woke. He threatened me. I explained a few things. He didn’t believe me.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Imhara, the catalyst for all our plans waits in your room. Yet you’re down here buried in accounts and supply lists, just like it’s another day, but you fist and flex your left hand. You only do that when something’s bothering you.”
Cursing his perceptiveness, she resisted the urge to squirm under his implacable stare. Any other time she might have brushed aside his concern, but their futures lay tied to the human in her bedroom.
“Convincing the Light Blade seems an impossible task, Rassan.” She winced. Her complaint sounded whiny.
“Arek’s fought the Na’Hord and raiding parties all his life. He’s witnessed comrades fall to their blades and atrocities visited on those he protects.” Rassan’s response remained calm. “We anticipated this would happen.”
She shook her head. “His hatred, his anger . . . it’s different. Darker. More consuming. The odor is stronger, heavier than anything I’ve ever scented. Nothing I said to him last night seemed to penetrate.” She sighed softly. “I feared he would escape before glimpsing the proof of my words.”
“Feared? You say that in the past tense.” Rassan leaned forward, boots scraping on the stone floor as he shifted to the edge of the lounge. “Speak plainly, Imhara.”
“I blood-bonded with him.”
The warrior sucked in a sharp breath, the flecks in his eyes going from dark violet to bronze. She watched his thoughts flicker across his face, processing everything she’d said and piecing it together. “You didn’t tell him about the symbiotic relationship.”
“No, I didn’t.” While Rassan showed no censure, a sharp citrus odor exuded from him. She waved aside his protest. “His promise to escape was no idle threat.”
“He’ll believe you’ve made him your blood-slave. How is that supposed to earn his trust?” Ever direct, her friend’s accusation struck deep. “Your rash action may end this venture before it even starts.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But how many years have we waited for this opportunity to let it slip from our grasp? Besides, Arek will be told the truth.”
“When?”
“After he’s met you, Barrca, and Jaclan.”
“You task three Na’Chi as guards?”
She issued a wry smile at his raised eyebrow. “When he wasn’t threatening me, his comments showed an analytical mind. What if the rumors of the alliance between the humans and those other Na’Chi are correct? Seeing you will make him think.”
“Assuming he’s not still enraged by your actions from last night.”
Imhara grimaced then grunted. “Offer him the hospitality of this House, but if he threatens you, then safety takes precedence over his comfort. When he’s ready, bring him down here.” She motioned to the tomes closest to them. “I would share the journals of our ancestors with him.”
“And the truth of the blood-bond?”
“That, too.”
“Then may the Lady bless our path this day.” The warrior pushed to his feet, a grim expression on his face. “I suspect we’re going to need Her guidance and as much patience as we can muster.”
Imhara drew in a slow breath, the image of a certain furious Light Blade warrior foremost in her mind. “Indeed.”
* * *
MORNING sunlight pouring in through an open window drew Arek from a fitful sleep. The broad beam streaked across the stone floor before angling across the quilt to strike his face. He winced at the brightness and turned his head aside.
It took him a groggy moment to realize that he was no longer alone in the bedroom. He jerked upright, or tried to. Chain grated against wood. The manacles bit into his abused flesh and held him down. His muscles tensed for a fight he couldn’t engage in. Cursing, he welcomed the surge of anger that dulled the renewed pain and consuming bitterness of being helpless. How could he have been so careless as to have not heard someone enter?
A figure crossed in front of the window. “Our apologies for waking you, Arek, but we have much to accomplish before day’s end.”
The deep voice didn’t belong to Imhara Kaal. A swift glance at the rocker-chair showed her absent from the room, a fact that left him feeling cheated and disappointed at the same time. He’d expected her to return, to gloat, to present him with an opportunity for retribution.
Squinting against the light, he brought the silhouetted figure into focus only to discover three Na’Reish males had replaced her. The vestiges of sleep fled. He eyed each of them warily.
All were of similar height, dressed in the well-worn clothes of workmen, but their powerful builds and intense gazes betrayed them as warriors. Having trained such watchfulness into many new Light Blades, the look was a familiar one.
Arek’s memory stirred. “You’re the scout from the riverside.”
“I’m Rassan.”
The warrior’s dark hair was no longer pulled back into a single tail. It lay loose around his shoulders, but Arek remembered the voice and angular features.
“How do you know my name?”
“We rescued five other humans from Meelar’s raid caravan yesterday. One of them told me.”
Rescued? What an interesting turn of phrase.
The male gestured to the blond warrior standing by the fireplace. “That’s Barrca, and the one holding the tray is Jaclan.”
Jaclan possessed the more youthful, leaner stature, his rounded face lacking the shadowed stubble of the other two. He offered a nervous smile and quick nod of the head as he placed the tray on the small table beside the bed. The mouthwatering odor of cooked food drifted from beneath the cover, but Arek barely looked at it, his attention stolen by the color in the young warrior’s eyes.
His jaw loosened as shock washed through him, diluting his anger and taking the edge off his hatred. Flecks of pale turquoise dotted the youth’s violet gaze.
“You’re Na’Chi!”
Chapter 8
“WE all are, Light Blade.”
Rassan’s declaration tore Arek’s gaze away from the young male. A swift look confirmed the scout’s declaration. Tones of green flecked each of the other two warrior’s eyes, yet their darker sun-bronzed skin and black lips, their larger, more powerful builds, and genetic markings were identical to any Na’Reish. Only the youth bore any resemblance to the Na’Chi he knew from Sacred Lake.
“You’ll find almost half the population of this Clan are of mixed blood.” The dark-haired warrior gestured to Jaclan. “His mother is Na’Reish but his father is human. Barrca and myself are three-quarters Na’Reish.”
That meant more than one generation of half-blood children had survived to adulthood. Arek’s jaw loosened.
“No demon tolerates your existence.” The words escaped before he could recall the
m.
“I see that you’re familiar with our race.” Rassan grunted and moved to the corner of the bed, a faint smile curving the corners of his mouth. “Then there’s substance to the rumors of the alliance between humans and the other group of Na’Chi. This bodes well.”
For what? It was on the tip of Arek’s tongue to ask, but this time he succeeded in holding on to the question.
“You neither confirm or deny the rumor. Considering what you believe your situation to be, I suppose I can’t blame you.”
Arek snorted softly. “What would you know of my thoughts?”
“You assume you’re a slave within this House. You’re not.”
Arek bared his teeth in a humorless grin and rattled the chains binding him to the bed. “So you treat all your guests like this?”
“You’re the first Light Blade we’ve been able to rescue. Imhara disagreed with my decision to use restraints, but I wasn’t prepared to compromise her safety.”
Arek’s gaze narrowed. The Na’Chi had ordered him chained to the bed, not the demon?
Violet eyes flecked with somber green flickered to the bite mark on his arm. The Na’Chi’s mouth tightened. He knew. The knowledge was there in his expression.
“Imhara’s . . . actions . . . were her way of protecting you from what lies outside these walls.”
Arek stiffened. “You excuse what she’s done to me?” The words exploded from him in a heated rush.
Rassan shook his head. “I don’t, but I understand her fears better than you. She damaged any chance of you trusting her to give you time to understand your situation.”
“My situation?” he growled. “Don’t you mean my place?”
The flecks in the warrior’s eyes changed briefly to black, his mouth pulled down at the corners, but then he continued talking as if he’d never heard Arek’s comment. “The explanation of what she did to you belongs to her, and she’ll address it once your needs have been seen to.”
Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE) Page 5