Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  A hard kick to the back of his legs sent him to his knees on the floor. She fisted a handful of his hair and jerked his head back. Training took over. He reached up to lock his fingers around her wrist. Swiveling on his knee, he twisted her arm and broke her hold. Using the momentum of his turn, he pushed her away from him, then surged to his feet.

  Imhara backed off and raised her hands, the gesture a cessation of aggression.

  “That is why I hesitate to agree to your request, Rassan. Not pride.” Her attention switched to him. “Arek, every second Yur is in the room with us, you’re going to be fighting your instincts. He’ll scent your hatred, your reluctance to follow orders, and he’ll enjoy provoking you until you respond. Unless you’re defending your master, laying your hand on me or any other Na’Reish could result in your death. Give Yur an excuse to demand punishment, and you put me in the position of having to follow through. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

  Arek met Rassan’s gaze, not bothering to hide his surprise at Imhara’s comment, unsure if he was disappointed or pleased he’d failed her test.

  Shouts came from outside the window.

  “Yur’s here.” Her expression twisted into a grimace, like she’d tasted something unpleasant. Tension tightened her voice. “Go now, both of you.”

  Rassan inclined his head. “I’ll arrange for refreshments to be delivered once Yur is escorted here.”

  Arek followed him from the library, wondering at the warrior’s compliance. Had that been Kalan, he’d never have given in, no matter how sound his argument. Plans were altered or adapted, not discarded when a leader’s safety was threatened.

  For several minutes they walked the corridor in silence. After descending a flight of stairs, the murmurs of voices and the odors of freshly baked bread and roasting meat filled the air.

  A wide archway at the end of the corridor opened into a large kitchen. A dozen people scurried around the room. Several workers looked up at their appearance; all smiled and called a greeting to Rassan that he returned.

  Some were sitting on stools near large tubs of water, cleaning and peeling vegetables. Two youths stood to either side of the great fireplace, tending a spit and several huge pots with steam rising from them. One of them brought a stack of pans to a woman making dough on the benches along one wall. Two more sliced loaves of bread at the far end. They threw the pieces into giant baskets near their feet.

  Organized chaos.

  Rassan called a couple of the workers over. After handing over the journals to the younger of the two and asking her to deliver them to Imhara’s room, he asked for a fresh pot of k’sa. The second woman hurried off to complete the request.

  Arek asked the question he’d been holding on to since leaving the library. “Is Yur likely to make an attempt on her life?”

  That earned him a sideways look. “If he saw an opportunity to kill Imhara, he’d take it.” The low pitch of his voice vibrated with controlled anger. “He’s tried it before, although we’ve never been able to link any attempt back to him. He’s too careful.”

  Arek nodded. “And with no heir, Savyr will appoint a successor to this Clan.”

  “Yes.” One word, so heavy laden with emotion.

  The Na’Rei would get what he desired—Kaal territory and easy access into human territory. Even with the Sacred Lake Na’Chi joining the ranks of the Light Blades, they would be grossly outnumbered if all the Clan Na’Hord’s combined.

  Separate outcomes neither of them wanted. Inwardly Arek smiled wryly. Who’d have thought he’d share a common goal with a Na’Reish Clan leader? What an ironic twist in an already complicated situation.

  “Then why did you let her dismiss you?” he asked.

  “Arguing with Imhara when she’s set on a decision is a waste of breath. It’s better just to act.”

  Arek frowned, confused. “How is retreating and leaving her to meet Yur alone taking action?”

  “Imhara was right. A moment ago you weren’t ready to be her slave.” His dark gaze pinned him where he stood. “Tradition demands that Yur be extended the courtesy of this House. A human posing as a slave will deliver refreshments to them.”

  Rassan’s meaning became clear.

  “And you want that slave to be me?” Arek grunted. “But you just said I wasn’t ready.”

  “She needs protection and you’re the only one able to do it without arousing suspicion.” Rassan’s regard never wavered. “Thanks to Imhara’s impromptu lesson, you now know what to expect. Her name and reputation will protect you. Just don’t give Yur any reason to take advantage of you.”

  There was one major flaw in his plan.

  “I can’t mask my scent.”

  “A certain amount of hatred or reluctance is acceptable. Expected. But you must follow the orders given to you. Imhara will guide you and dismiss any small mistakes you make as a new slave learning his role.”

  Considering twenty minutes ago he’d threatened to kill Imhara, the Na’Chi warrior was placing a huge amount of trust in him. He couldn’t fathom why, but one thing was obvious. Rassan’s confidence in her was absolute. But to follow her lead, to trust her . . . Mother of Mercy.

  Arek’s innards twisted. “Won’t she be angry you’ve gone against her orders?”

  “Perhaps. That’s something I’ll deal with later.” Rassan shrugged. “But there’s nothing she can do once you go into that room.”

  “She could order me to leave.”

  “Serving is a slave’s task. To make another take your place would draw Yur’s attention. She won’t do that.” Rassan reached out to grasp his shoulder. “Protecting Imhara benefits both of us, Light Blade.” Had the Na’Chi scented his doubt? Rassan’s eyes glittered in challenge. “The question is now, are you willing to do it?”

  “A warrior never loses sight of his target.” Yevni’s instruction from his early days as a trainee Blade. Yur was just a hurdle in the overall plan. Savyr should be his focus, Imhara the means he’d use to get to the demon leader.

  “So, I address Imhara as Na but what’s Yur’s title?”

  Rassan’s lips curled into a fierce grin. “Na’Reishi or Second.” He stepped inside the kitchen to intercept one of the men working there. After a moment, he turned and tossed something gold and shiny toward him. Arek caught it. Cold metal filled his palm. “Take off your shirt and put it on.”

  “Only one?” He nodded in the direction of one of the men in the kitchen. “He wears two.”

  “Two indicates he’s joined. Mated.” Rassan gave a brief smile. “An Old Ways tradition honored by some in our Clan.”

  Arek grunted. A swift glance at the borrowed armband showed the same interlocking sun and moon design as the one Nayvia had worn around her neck. The Kaal used jewelry to commemorate a past way of life, but it still felt like a mark of ownership.

  The reluctance churning in Arek’s gut only reinforced that impression. He shoved it aside and pointed his chin at the male kitchen workers. “They get to keep their shirts on.”

  “They’re not Imhara’s newest pet.” Arek squeezed the armband until the metal bit into his fingers. The Na’Chi warrior folded his arms. “You play a role, Arek. If you can’t accept that or don’t think you can follow Imhara’s lead, then we end this right now.”

  Lady help him. He needed to adapt. Fast. Was this how Kalan felt all those months ago when he’d met Annika in the Na’Rei’s dungeon? How had he known when to trust her? At what point had he chosen to see her as something other than as his enemy?

  Arek rotated the band around his fingers. If the truth were known, he felt more comfortable trusting Rassan than Imhara, despite knowing his allegiance lay with her. As convoluted as that seemed, perhaps it could be a start.

  If Kymora knew of the situation he faced now, she’d deem it Her divine will. As the Temple Elect and his friend, she’d insist he embrace it. As much as instinct rebelled at the idea, the only way to regain some control of his journey was to walk Her path.

&n
bsp; Lady’s Breath, it was better than stumbling blindly.

  Arek took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.” The decision to act settled his reservations to the back of his mind.

  “Your word, Light Blade.” At his raised eyebrow, Rassan’s gaze took on a harder glint. “You might not trust her, but you don’t understand everything yet, and there’s too much at stake. If you endanger her, you endanger hundreds of lives within this Clan. I’d have you swear you’ll play this role without jeopardizing Imhara.”

  “I said I’d do it.”

  “And I trusted you before, yet you threatened her and took her hostage.” Rassan’s gaze never wavered. “Give me your promise.”

  He couldn’t fault Rassan for the loss of trust between them. “I swear it by the Lady.”

  The warrior stared at him for several long moments, then nodded slowly. “All right then. While custom dictates Imhara refrain from certain behaviors out in Na’Reish society, within these walls, and regardless of the rank of her visitors, she likes to flaunt her . . . lifestyle. Don’t be surprised by anything she does.”

  “That’s not reassuring, Na’Chi.” Arek pulled off his shirt, handed it over, then pushed the band onto his bicep. “You realize Yur won’t approve.”

  Pressing the edges closed, he glanced up when the warrior didn’t respond. Rassan’s grin had turned wicked.

  Arek grunted. “You want him distracted.”

  “Exactly.”

  The kitchen help returned bearing a tray with a pot and two cups. Arek took the tray from her as Rassan nodded his thanks. In the few minutes it took them to return to the corridor outside the library, Arek prepared himself for the task ahead. Muffled voices came from within. One male. One female.

  Rassan caught his arm just before he reached up to knock on the closed door. “Don’t give Yur your back.”

  “Why? Will he attack me?”

  “His hatred for humans mirrors yours for the Na’Reish. Don’t give him the chance.” Violet eyes met his. “Lady guide and protect you both.”

  Arek gave a nod and knocked.

  “Come in!” Imhara’s voice called from within.

  Taking a deep breath, Arek planted his palm on the wood and pushed, aware of the irony of the situation he now found himself in. His grandfather would keel over in a fit to see him cooperating with a Na’Reish demon. Those he’d trained with in the Light Blade compound would have trouble believing it, too.

  He pushed the thoughts aside. If he was going to pull off this farce, then he needed to take on the challenge of being Imhara’s slave. Merciful Mother, a Na’Reish slave. His gut churned.

  Arek tightened his grip on the tray. He’d never backed down from a challenge and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Gaze fixed on the pot of k’sa, he stepped into the library.

  Chapter 12

  WHEN the door to the library opened, Imhara ignored whoever entered, preferring to keep her gaze on Urkan Yur as he made himself at home on the lounge. Reclined in a relaxed pose, he seemed far too comfortable for her liking.

  From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d fought to keep her features in a suitably neutral expression. Just the way he gazed around the room, taking in the shelves, the wall hangings, the furniture, his expression assessing, too interested, made her pulse pound.

  Yur wore his hair out, although two braids tied back kept the black strands from his face. The style accentuated his angular features, and with a faint smile curving his black lips, he portrayed a geniality she knew deceived many. Few looked past the broad forehead, high cheekbones, and square jaw, his dark skin markings and unscarred face.

  It amazed Imhara that others could admire his handsomeness and overlook that it covered a soul so cunning and evil. Just the sight of him, dressed in his customary hard leather armor and warrior garb black as the heart that beat within his chest, aroused the familiar burn of rage and grief.

  The Na’Reishi warrior had murdered her parents and siblings. She might not have seen him wield the curved blade sheathed at his side, but the dark, musky odor surrounding him was the same one she’d scented on the bodies of her kin that fateful night five years ago.

  Seated behind her desk, she used the barrier to help control her seething anger. While an attack might satisfy her need for blood vengeance, Yur’s death would accomplish nothing. Yet.

  “The purpose for my visit is explained in the Na’Rei’s missive.”

  His tone gravel-deep, Yur’s drawled statement rasped across Imhara’s nerves yet also reminded her of the folded parchment clutched in her hand. The one he’d handed over during their oh-so- polite opening greetings.

  The Gannec Clan symbol was intact on the seal. She broke the wax with a flick of her thumbnail and scanned the brief message.

  “The Enclave has been moved forward two weeks?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “The Na’Rei wishes to finalize arrangements for your mating ceremony before the Enclave.”

  She glanced up sharply. “My what?”

  Was Savyr’s intention to mate her common knowledge?

  “Your mating ceremony.” The gleam in Yur’s purple gaze brightened. “Petitions have been submitted.”

  A shiver prickled the skin across her back. Her worst nightmare would be made real if she were mated to a male who cared for little other than the title of Clan Na and the power of leadership. Her parents had shared a rare partnership. One she dreamed of finding for herself—someday—but not if she was forced to accept a mate of Savyr’s choosing.

  Fear spurted through her veins before she could stop the sensation. She clamped down on it before her scent betrayed her. Yur would hone in on it like a Vorc scenting blood and relish in the knowledge of having unsettled her.

  “Without consulting me?” She only just managed to keep panic from her voice.

  Who had approached Savyr? They had to have his approval, a loyal lap-Vorc, or the Na’Rei would never have accepted any petition.

  “It’s been five years, Na Kaal. More than enough time to find a worthy male.” She ground her teeth together at the unsubtle reminder. “You’re a desirable female with strong bloodlines, so it’s not a lack of interest from suitors. Yet you’ve rejected every Na’Reishi lord who’s approached you.” His gaze glittered, and locked with hers. “Patience has worn thin.”

  His hardening tone and direct statement confirmed that the process was a mere formality. Savyr had already proven the lengths he’d go to possess Kaal territory. Ordering her compliance shouldn’t come as a surprise. So what if the Enclave would serve to announce and validate her mated status? The decision didn’t change her original plans.

  “The earlier date also allows him to host a Clan Challenge to celebrate your upcoming mating ceremony.” Yur’s mouth curved upward. “He invites you to officiate the formal events with him.”

  A frisson of unease scraped along her spine. She hadn’t anticipated something like this. Something so public.

  Presiding over the contests with Savyr would give others the impression she welcomed the mating. Yet to refuse would draw the Na’Rei’s wrath down upon her sooner.

  “There will also be an after-games banquet, the Na’Rei’s gift to you and your future mate.” Yur waited, watching her from beneath his hooded gaze.

  The image of a ground-scurrier trapped by the glinting gaze of a scale-winder flitted through her mind. Even though she knew the day would come, her skin still chilled and goose bumped. Instead of heeding the instinct to flee, just as the small animal would, it was time to stare the predator down.

  Gently, Imhara placed the missive on her desk. She drew in a slow, even breath to ease the heat of temper in her veins and to calm the fingers of fear squeezing her heart. Yur’s scent reeked with woodsy anticipation, and the way he propped his arm along the back of the lounge, his long fingers stroking the nap of the fabric, only reinforced that impression.

  “The Na’Rei honors my House.” The words tasted like funeral
ash in her mouth.

  “Indeed.” The smug smile widened until she could see the tips of his pointed teeth. “Will Rassan be accompanying you to this Enclave?”

  “Of course.”

  She almost missed the stirring deep within his gaze. The skin on the nape of her neck prickled.

  “Then I look forward to seeing your Second defend his title at the games.”

  Was he disappointed Rassan was attending or did he want him there? And if so, why? She made a note to warn her friend of Yur’s interest. Nothing good would come of it, whatever the reason.

  Movement near the door and a throat being cleared interrupted them. Imhara looked over, surprised she’d forgotten about the third presence in the room. Shock washed through her at the sight of Arek standing there holding a tray, but more pertinently, his state of undress and bowed head.

  “What are you doing here?” Her question came out sharper than planned.

  She sensed Rassan’s hand in this. What had possessed him to ignore her order, especially when Arek had proven he wasn’t ready to take on the role of her slave? Yet there the Light Blade stood, gaze lowered, stance submissive.

  Clean and clothed, he caught her eye. Now she couldn’t look away, not even to gauge Yur’s reaction to his presence. The morning sunlight angling in from the windows caught the dips and hollows of his body, outlining every smooth line and the heavy curve of muscle along his bare shoulders and chest. Her gaze followed the fine dusting of blond hair as it arrowed down his ridged abdomen then disappeared beneath the waistband of his breeches.

  Merciful Mother . . . the hours . . . no, years of training that had to have gone into developing that physique . . . Imhara leaned back in her chair, resisting the urge to rise and run her hands over him, to test the strength contained in his arms, the width of his chest, the lean flex of his waist. Instead she clasped her hands in her lap, more than a little astonished at the strength of her reaction to him.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen plenty of naked male flesh—human, Na’Chi, or Na’Reish—in her role as Na Kaal and on the practice field, but her observations had been more aloof than covetous. The former reaction proved impossible to claim now, especially given the intensity of the heat warming her from the inside out.