Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

His mind reeled and he was glad he was sitting down. He licked his lips with a tongue that had gone dry, unsure whether to let loose the wild ripple of laughter building in his chest or roar out his angry frustration. “Was Rezzen’s wife human or Na’Chi?”

  “Human.”

  His head snapped up. It took several calming breaths before he could speak, and even then his voice was hoarse. “She let him feed from her?”

  “She blood-bonded with him. Willingly. The ritual is not the travesty perpetuated by the Na’Reish today, nor is it the enthrallment your people suppose it to be.”

  “And what of withdrawal and the death of the human if the feeding stops?”

  “All false. The enhancement weakens when the feeding stops. Death only occurs if a Na’Reish overfeeds, which, in this day and age, occurs frequently. Hence the misconception.” She came to the edge of the desk, gaze glittering. “Everything you’ve read about the bonding, the strengthening of Leesa’s Gift—back then it was considered a mutually beneficial relationship between our races, a blessing from the Lady.”

  Arek ran a hand through his hair, choking back the instinctive protest in his throat. His stomach churned at the thought of a human voluntarily allowing a Na’Reish to feed from him. For too many years, he’d seen comrades die, their lives drained from their bodies as Na’Reish warriors fed from them. The demons made no secret of the fact they wanted to enslave or kill every human.

  He’d believed the same of Annika and the other Na’Chi. Yet he’d been wrong about them. And now he was faced with the possibility that Imhara Kaal wasn’t the monster he feared her to be.

  He reread the pages of the journal again, wanting to deny the information contained within the ancient script. Like a well-honed blade, each paragraph sliced at and severed the remaining validity of the history he’d grown up with.

  Lady’s Breath, he felt like a boat left adrift in a summer storm, buffeted by uncertainty, shaken with the anchor of his beliefs ripped from him, and floundering to decipher what truths would guide his course.

  He placed the journal on the padded seat next to him. If Imhara Kaal was right about the blood-bond, then feeding from him last night would have only enhanced his Light Blade ability to kill, not enslaved him.

  Which should he believe—the facts contained within the journal or the ones he’d grown up with? The path She’d set him on was a torturous one.

  Arek curled his hands into fists. There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 10

  AREK launched himself off the lounge, the quick length of his stride covering the distance between them in seconds. He reached out to grab Imhara by the throat, drawing on his Gift as his flesh connected with hers.

  The familiar surge of power and intense heat ripped through him, quicker and stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before. His sharp intake of breath echoed hers.

  “Don’t, Arek!” Rassan’s demand had him tightening his grasp.

  Gritting his teeth, Arek controlled the fiery rush, more out of shock than in response to Rassan’s order. Using his momentum, he drove Imhara backward toward the wall, swinging around at the last moment so his shoulders were flush to the shelf of books, her body acting as a shield against the two advancing Na’Chi warriors.

  She didn’t fight him. Instead she placed her hands on his forearm, more to keep her balance than to pry at his hold. The jolt of awareness that came with her touch ignited hot chills skittering over his body and completely blew his focus.

  Or more accurately, refocused his attention on her.

  Pressed up against him, Imhara’s soft, lean curves and the warmth her skin radiated through two layers of clothes proved hard to ignore. The sensation transformed into a frisson of heat that slowly wound its way through his gut.

  Shock ripped through him. Just the thought of being aroused by her made him want to thrust her away from him. He may have been attracted to her before he knew she was Na’Reish, but now he knew better.

  She wasn’t human. Gritting his teeth, he denied the heat leave to move any lower, yet his body and mind betrayed him.

  Merciful Mother, there was nowhere to go with the towering bookshelf behind him. Allowing Imhara to pull away and create some space between them would leave him open to an offensive move.

  Arek filled his mind with the images of Ostare and the villagers his patrol had found just before his capture. Children and elder-kin, their expressions frozen in the familiar rictus of death, their throats or wrists torn in a savage display of violence, the life-blood drained from their bodies.

  Imhara Kaal was no different than the demon warriors who’d murdered those villagers. He wore the mark of her kind on his arm. That and the memories of the dead in Ostare eased the effect but didn’t banish the unwelcome reaction.

  “Hold!” Imhara’s voice, a welcome distraction, focused him on the two approaching warriors. Her hoarse command was reinforced with an upraised hand and pulled both Na’Chi up short. Rassan tensed, his shoulders bunching and hands fisting, and for a moment, Arek doubted he’d heed her.

  “You can sense just how close I am to releasing my Gift, Na’Chi,” he warned, voice low.

  “You’d be a fool to kill Imhara, Light Blade.” Rassan’s gaze flashed black.

  Arek’s own temper flared, fed by self-disgust at the effect her physical presence had on him. “If I’d wanted her dead, she would be.”

  “Yet you threaten her now.” He gestured to the abandoned tome on the seat. “You don’t strike me as the sort of warrior who would ignore such compelling evidence.”

  “He needed proof, Rassan.” Imhara Kaal’s hoarse response was calm. Still she made no effort to free herself, and that surprised him, especially when she had the skills to fight him. “Has your curiosity been satisfied, Light Blade?”

  “Not quite.” Arek pointed with his chin. “I want both of you to leave. Na Kaal and I have more to discuss.”

  Nor did he want or need an audience sensing his . . . adverse reactions . . . to their leader. For the moment, they were distracted by their fear for her safety, and he didn’t trust his ability to hide his scent from them.

  “I won’t leave you in here alone with her.”

  “Rassan.” A gentle-spoken word, one layered with tone and purpose. The Na’Chi warrior’s gaze flickered to the woman in his arms. “I owe him this.”

  A muscle leapt in his jaw, the black flecks faded to the palest of yellows. “Putting yourself in danger to make up for a mistake isn’t worth it. Too many others rely on you.”

  “We need his help.”

  She’d risk her life to convince him?

  Arek held back a grunt. He couldn’t decide if her course of action was courageous or foolish given the threat he’d made last night. There was no way he’d have trusted her had the situation been reversed.

  Rassan’s twisted mouth reflected his thoughts. By his side, his hands flexed. “Imhara is the only thing standing between us and the other Clans, Light Blade. Every decision she’s made, every action she’s taken is done to protect all of us—human, Na’Chi, and kin.” The muscle leapt in his jaw again. “No one faults you for your hatred of the Na’Reish, but don’t let it blind you to the truths revealed today.”

  Arek couldn’t help but feel grudging respect for the Na’Chi’s impassioned plea.

  “The Lady has guided us this far.” Beneath his hand, Imhara Kaal’s throat flexed as she swallowed. “Let this Journey take us where She wills it.”

  A Na’Reish demon acknowledging the Lady. Yet another contradiction to add to his confusion.

  The Na’Chi warrior grimaced, still hesitating.

  “Please, Rassan.”

  For several long heartbeats, Rassan didn’t move. Clearly he feared for her safety and disliked leaving him alone with Imhara. Arek grunted silently. Not that long ago he’d been in a similar situation with Kalan and Annika, and back then he’d worried about leaving his friend in a room with a woman he’d believed a threat to his life,
too. He didn’t begrudge Rassan the allegiance he felt toward his leader.

  With a sharp nod to Barrca, the Na’Chi pivoted on his boot heel. Arek released a slow breath as they left the room, closing the door behind them.

  “So, where do we go from here?” The slight waver in Imhara Kaal’s voice filled him with a modicum of satisfaction. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I did to you last night—”

  His fingers tightened around her neck. “You fed from me and let me believe in a lie,” he hissed. He’d laid awake for hours, horrified to think she’d condemned him to live the rest of his life as a blood-slave, but worse was the fact that he’d been helpless, unable to stop her doing what she wanted, and to prevent it from happening. “Why didn’t you tell me all this last night?”

  “I started to but you weren’t willing to listen. You were focused on your hatred and escape.” She broke off, her voice husky as she forced it past his grip. “I have no excuse except to tell you I was desperate.” Her chin lifted. “I regret the pain my deception caused you, but I won’t apologize for doing what I thought was best for all of us.”

  Brave words and a classic example of the arrogance he’d come to expect of the Na’Reish. So terribly similar to his grandfather in that respect, imposing what she felt was right on others. His gut burned.

  “That our people once lived together is no surprise to you, is it?” Her soft question jerked his angry thoughts to a halt. “You felt the enhancement in your Gift when you grabbed me. And you know more than you’re willing to reveal, otherwise you’d have carried through on your threat from last night. Your scent betrays you.”

  Arek ground his teeth together and debated whether to answer her or not, tempted to reject her apology outright, but he couldn’t ignore her astute assumption nor dismiss the information presented in the journal.

  That didn’t mean he had to admit to anything out loud. Yet the possibility of everything she’d divulged, everything he’d seen, and everything he already knew culminated in an opportunity as tempting as he’d ever faced.

  Savry’s death.

  So much would be achieved if he believed what Imhara Kaal had revealed. But to trust the word of a demon . . . Mother of Mercy!

  How would Kalan or Kymora handle this situation? What would they do? Was this a risk worth taking?

  “By the Lady, if you’re lying to me, Na’Reish, or if you ever feed from me without my permission again, then nothing . . . nothing will stop me from killing you,” he vowed, voice as ragged as his uncertainty.

  Wondering if he’d regret his actions, Arek released Imhara with a shove. She stumbled away from him, caught the edge of the desk, and leaned on it, head bowed, sucking in deep breaths.

  Fool! The Na’Reish destroyed our lives! They can never be trusted!

  With his grandfather’s voice ringing in his ears, Arek strode away from Imhara toward the fireplace. Regret soured the back of his mouth as every fiber of his being twisted at giving up the advantage.

  Across the distance separating them, he stared at her and she him. Arek wondered if his face was as ashen and tense as hers. Lady knew his innards still quivered like her voice from a moment ago.

  “Thank you.” She rubbed at the red marks his fingers had left on her throat but made no complaint about them. “For my life and for listening.”

  “I’m not doing this for you, Na’Reish. I don’t trust you—” She grimaced. Lips thinning, he folded his arms and kept his voice hard. “But the journal entries compel me to keep an open mind.”

  The only explanation he was willing to give.

  She accepted with a nod, some of the tension in her expression easing. “Fair enough.”

  “I want to finish reading those journals.”

  “Of course. There are others written by my ancestors following the Great War, but I don’t keep them here in the library.” He raised a brow. “Other Na’Reish visit this fortress on occasion. I would not have them discovered by chance.”

  Her logic made sense.

  Imhara retreated to the other side of her desk and sat in the chair, her expression turning pensive. After a moment, her head lifted. “Arek, about the role I need you to undertake . . .”

  “You want me to approach the Blade Council on your behalf. I remember.”

  Convincing the Blade Council and his people to accept the Na’Chi had been hard enough. Given their turbulent history, allying with a Na’Reish Clan didn’t seem possible. But then, he’d believed the same when Kalan had suggested an alliance with Annika and the other Na’Chi.

  No use worrying about that yet though. There was no way he was escorting her one foot closer to human territory, not until he was absolutely sure she posed no threat to them.

  “Approaching your leader is only part of what I need you to do.” She took a steadying breath and met his gaze. “I want you to come with me when I travel to the Enclave.”

  Head into the Na’Rei’s stronghold? The heart of demon territory?

  Arek frowned. “Why?”

  “No one will suspect a Light Blade warrior as a slave.”

  He fisted his hands at the idea of being her slave, but the tactical advantage of her suggestion wasn’t lost on him.

  “You’re expecting me to use my Gift?”

  “Only as a last resort.”

  From beyond the closed doors, loud voices drew their attention. An urgent knock followed. “Imhara!”

  She glanced to him. “Rassan wouldn’t disturb us unnecessarily.” Arek nodded. She raised her voice. “Come in!”

  The door swung open. The Na’Chi warrior entered, his expression grim. The hand gripping the edge of the door was white-knuckled. His gaze darted between them, relief flashing across his face, his gaze lingering on Imhara as if assuring himself she was unharmed.

  Imhara rose from her seat. “What’s wrong?”

  “Urkan Yur approaches our gates.” The flecks in his eyes were pure black. “He arrives in a quarter hour.”

  Imhara’s stiffening stance indicated trouble. Her heated curse confirmed it.

  Arek glanced between the two. “Who’s Urkan Yur?”

  “He’s Savyr’s Second in Command.” Rassan’s deep voice vibrated with tension. “A Na’Reishi Lordling who rose through the ranks with Savyr during the reign of the previous Na’Rei, and the only warrior he trusts to lead his Clan Na’Hord.”

  Imhara’s gaze slashed to him, the purple pigment within flashing bright. Her lips curled back from her teeth in a silent snarl. “He’s also the black-scale winder who murdered my family.”

  Chapter 11

  “THE workers outside the wall need to be warned.”

  Gone was the glacial fury within Imhara’s gaze, replaced in a heartbeat by concern. Arek blinked. Her control and skill in focusing her moods continued to surprise him.

  “Barrca’s already seeing to it.” Rassan scooped up the journals from her work desk. “And I’ve sent the messenger to alert those within the fortress.”

  Arek cocked his head to one side. “Why warn the workers?”

  “Some of them are Na’Chi.” Imhara rounded the end of her desk. “There are a handful like Barrca and Rassan who can pass as Na’Reish, but most can’t risk being discovered.” Her black lips pressed flat. “Yur is a purist.”

  “The Na’Rei’s Second advocates bloodline purity?” Arek snorted. “Savyr’s Na’Chi daughter must have put a strain on their relationship.”

  “You know about Annika?” Imhara shared a look of surprise with Rassan.

  Arek cursed his thoughtless response. Just because he’d agreed to listen to her, it was no excuse to become complacent.

  “It’s good to hear Annika lives. I only met her a few times, but she showed such strength and courage, considering the life she endured at the Gannec fortress.” A small smile curved her lips. “Savyr claimed a Light Blade warrior killed her, an elderly healer, and two guards. At the time I thought it odd he’d admit to a prisoner escaping from his fortress, but i
f you know about her, then she and the Light Blade made it over the border. It also explains why Savyr tried to cover it up. Better to endure a little embarrassment than a loss of face.”

  The distant ringing of a bell made Arek glance at the window.

  “The watchtower has spotted Yur’s Na’Hord,” Rassan explained. “They’ve reached the fields. They’ll be at our gates in minutes.”

  “Store the journals, then see Arek safely to the hidden room with the others.” Imhara began closing ledgers and placing papers into the draws of her desk.

  “I’d rather he stayed here with you.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t risk his safety.”

  Blackness darkened Rassan’s gaze. “Yet you’ll compromise your own.” He held up a hand as she took a breath to protest. “Yur will dismiss a slave as a threat.”

  “Arek’s had no preparation—”

  “He spent a week travelling with Meelar.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Imhara—”

  Her sharp gesture cut him off. “No, Rassan.”

  “You’d let pride take precedence over logic?” he challenged. “Risk the opportunity of taking Savyr down?”

  “Pride?” Imhara’s eyes slitted. “This has nothing to do with pride.” Arek tensed as she stabbed a finger in his direction. “Exposing him to Yur is too great a risk.”

  She closed the distance between them in half a dozen strides, stopping close enough so that Arek could see the deep purple striations in the iris of her eyes. Near enough to feel her body heat.

  Her hand pressed against his abdomen, fingers spreading wide. Arek sucked in a shocked breath at her bold move. He almost backed away when he saw the corners of her mouth twitch. Stubbornly, he held his ground.

  “Lower your gaze, slave.” The condescending tone had him clenching his jaw. She slid her hand over his ribs as she moved behind him. Every muscle locked tight at the heated slide of her hand touching him. “Unless invited, a slave never meets a Na’Reish eye to eye, no matter their rank. And your hesitation to comply with my order would be viewed as defiance. Both offenses invite punishment.”