Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  The Na’Chi’s brow dipped. “You can barely stand, let alone move with the speed we’re going to need. And you know it.” His glare heated. “You’ll die without feeding. I’d offer you my vein, but the human blood in me is too weak to sustain you. Neither you nor Arek have any choice in this.”

  Imhara swallowed against a dry throat. Her friend had never hidden the truth from her, ugly or bad. One of the qualities she admired in him, and always had.

  Arek’s arms loosened from around her. One blood-smeared hand tugged at his shirtsleeve until his forearm was bared.

  “Your Second is right.” Terse words that made her flinch. “Feed and take all you need. No half measures this time.”

  Surprise and shock raced through her. “But you hate it.” She managed to move a little to look at him. “Your scent—”

  Twilight eyes locked with hers, level and steady. “I used to hate Annika and the other Na’Chi at Sacred Lake, but my attitude changed. If this journey has taught me anything, it’s that I can adapt.” His stubbled jaw flexed and his voice roughened. “Besides, before we were so rudely interrupted tonight, I made you a promise, and it’s one I intend to keep. How can I do that if you die?”

  A promise? Imhara frowned then blinked. Surely he wasn’t referring to the comment he’d made about making love to her again? She inhaled deeply. He was. The spicy scent filling her lungs didn’t lie.

  Her throat tightened. Inside her chest, her heart beat at a rapid thrum. His words breathed life once more into long-suppressed yearnings.

  To hear Arek share his journey so openly when she knew he disliked leaving himself vulnerable sparked a soul-deep warmth that rose and encircled her heart. It didn’t seem that long ago when she’d wondered if he’d ever reach this point, whether she’d earn his trust and he’d consider her an ally.

  He was giving her a part of himself even when he didn’t want to, and the precious feeling that came with his gift was breath stealing.

  Now he wanted to be her lover; something she’d never even expected or dared to hope for.

  Until this moment.

  She could easily love such a man. Imhara closed her eyes at the dizzying thought and tried not to let herself hope too much. But, deep down, she knew it was too late.

  His words and actions claimed her heart. Absolutely.

  She already loved him.

  Her chest tightened. The realization was powerful and stunning.

  “Imhara?” Arek’s knuckles brushed the side of her face.

  Did he have any idea just what she felt for him?

  The scent of new-fallen rain flooded the air. Someone did.

  Imhara glanced to Rassan. Surprise lightened his gaze, but then his mouth quirked and satisfaction deepened his scent.

  She took a slow, deep breath and nodded. “All right.”

  Arek offered his arm to her again. All too aware of how badly her fingers shook, she grasped his wrist. Saliva filled her mouth as she pressed a kiss against his flesh, unable to vocalize just how precious his gesture was to her. Thanking him seemed so inadequate.

  Without any further delay, she bit into him, heard his soft grunt, and then fed. The hot, sweet taste of his blood exploding in her mouth made her stomach cramp. She opened all her senses to her hunger, monitoring its intensity, allowing the warmth of Arek’s blood and the energy that came with it to fill her.

  Light, she could feel every cell in her body heating, absorbing his blood, repairing the damage done to her by Yur’s blade in a way she’d never felt before, only ever read about in her ancestors’ journals. The sharp, prickling sensation centralized around the wound.

  After a few minutes, her light-headedness vanished, another couple and the agony in her side diminished to a manageable ache, like she’d overworked and pulled every muscle in her side. But with her improving health, the full-bodied, iron-rich tang of Arek’s blood began to weaken. She stopped feeding.

  “What’s wrong?” Arek asked.

  She licked her lips. “There’s a point reached in any feeding where you’d begin to feel the side effects of blood loss. You’ve reached it. I can taste the difference. If I kept feeding and took too much, you’d lose consciousness.”

  Rassan lifted the edge of her shirt again and rechecked the wound site, his fingers probing in a thorough pattern as he tested the flesh. The wound no longer bled. The skin looked just healed over, red raw in the center, a deep pink at the edges.

  “Any pain?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “None, just a bit of tenderness and a lingering ache.”

  “You still need to be careful, give it time to knit properly and for your strength to return.”

  Imhara nodded. She’d seen the results of pushing a body still healing too far. Any strenuous activity could potentially tear open the wound again and they’d be back to square one. It was going to make confronting . . . She blinked and uttered a curse.

  “What about Savyr?”

  “Imhara . . .” Rassan grimaced and pushed to his feet.

  An icy coldness prickled her skin. “No! Don’t even say it!”

  His dark brows descended in a deep frown as he resheathed his sword. “You can’t go after him. That would be suicide!”

  Familiar fury twisted in her gut. Savyr couldn’t be allowed to live, to continue his reign. The blood of too many lives stained his hands. His pursuit of total domination, Na’Reish and human territory alike, had to end now.

  She pressed a hand to her side, to the tear in her shirt where Yur’s blade had penetrated, then fisted the material in her hand. Five years of prayer and oaths made at her family’s graveside to avenge their deaths, and five years of being something she wasn’t—gone, in a single thrust. One unfortunate error on her part, and she’d sacrificed years’ worth of planning.

  The knowledge hit her like a fist to her stomach.

  She straightened. “There’s time between now and when we get to him for me to regain my strength.”

  “Don’t delude yourself.” Rassan’s hard words lashed like whip.

  Her temper ignited. “We came here to kill him! You want to abandon everything and walk away? Let him live?”

  “Of course not!” The words exploded from her friend. “I want to see him dead as much as you. We planned for every contingency we could, but we knew the odds of success coming into this venture.” He sucked in a deep breath, and the black flecks in his gaze faded. “Making another attempt now is careless. Stupid. We took out the king’s right hand. We have to settle for that small victory and move on.”

  Denial raced through Imhara in a hot wave that scorched every nerve, head to toe. She shot to her feet, wincing as her side protested the angry move, and snatched her sword off the floor. To come so close and turn away . . . She couldn’t do it. . . . She couldn’t break her oath to her family, to her people, to herself.

  The weight of responsibility made her chest tighten. Why now? Just when she’d discovered a man she could love and allowed herself to hope for a future of her own? She bit her lip and pushed the pain clawing at her heart away.

  “Take Arek. Leave the fortress. Get everyone home and do the best you can dealing with the Blade Council.” She retrieved her dagger. “I’m going after Savyr. Alone.”

  Chapter 37

  RASSAN’S mouth flattened. “Imhara, we gambled and we lost.”

  “The error was mine, Rassan. I’ll rectify it.”

  “Your error? You were wounded in battle. Not something you can predict.” The Na’Chi’s gaze darkened then lit up with yellow, flickering between the two colors as his whole body shook with Imhara’s announcement. “And since when did this become just your crusade?”

  Lady of Light. It was like watching an oil lantern smash on stone and the flame ignite. Arek wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Rassan so volatile, but then he wondered if Imhara had ever given such an irrational order before.

  “You’ll never get close to Savyr.” The warrior’s statement came out flat and hard. “W
hen Yur and I left camp, Barrca and the others set the final strategy in motion. They’ve had almost an hour.”

  “What strategy?” Arek frowned, his gaze flicking between them.

  Both Kaal Clan members remained silent, unwilling to unlock their gazes. Then Rassan relented, and glanced to him.

  “If Savyr ever summoned Imhara to his keep, once she’d gone, everyone else would leave as well. Small groups. Abandoning our tents and supplies in camp, so none of the other Clans would suspect anything amiss. They would take only what they could carry. Oreese would use his Gift to manipulate the weather, and Atallie, her fire skills.”

  Atallie’s name proved familiar. An image of a young woman among the cooking crew flashed through Arek’s mind.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Cover for their escape?”

  Rassan gave a nod. “And ours should we have succeeded against Savyr.”

  “What would Atallie set on fire?”

  “Tents, wagons, stock fodder, anything flammable, at various locations around the Clan campsites.” Rassan gestured with his chin. “If we looked out that window now, there’d be a fog forming and we’d hear watchtower bells ringing.”

  Any fire among pavilions and tents so closely packed together would quickly burn out of control.

  The soft hiss of blades sliding into sheaths drew Arek’s attention to Imhara. Her lips were pressed together into a thin, determined line. Sweat beaded her brow; her face had lost color, making the markings running down either side stand out.

  Arek understood Rassan’s frustration. Imhara might be well on her way to recovery, but there was no way she was ready to take on Savyr alone. Convincing her of that though was going to be tough.

  On one hand he understood her desire to seek vengeance, but his heart couldn’t let her go to her death.

  Her people needed her.

  Light, he needed her. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, that was the bare, selfish truth. There was something between them, and for the first time, he wanted to explore what it was, and he couldn’t do that if she followed through on her plan.

  There were traces of anger in her gaze, but also a wildness he recognized. A powerful combination of emotions drove Imhara Kaal, and the internal deluge submerged logic and reason. Not that long ago he’d felt the same sense of desperation and panic at realizing his carefully ordered world had been turned upside down.

  “If you intend on making it through the gates before they’re shut, I suggest you two get moving,” she stated.

  Rassan’s thunderous expression returned.

  Catching his eye, Arek shook his head and rose from the bed. “Imhara.”

  “Not you, too!” Her accusation was bitter, harsh, and she backed away from him. “You of all people should know how I feel!”

  Arek followed her retreat, the scene a reversal and eerily reminiscent of the one earlier in the evening. When she hit the wall, her chin lifted.

  “I do.” He stopped a pace away from her.

  If she didn’t listen, then he would physically overpower her and carry her out of the fortress. Rassan would most probably help.

  “My hatred for Savyr still exists. It won’t ever go away. He took my parents from me and, in a fashion, did the same with my grandfather.” He didn’t hide the struggle going on inside him. “Vengeance brought me to you. Your thirst for the same made me a part of your plan to kill Savyr.” His brief smile was wry. “I convinced myself it offset any differences and conflicts I thought existed between us.”

  Here he hesitated, uncertainty eating at his gut, then doggedly continued.

  “Vengeance destroyed Davyn’s life. Until I met you, I was headed down the same path.” His tone gentled. “As much as I want to see Savyr dead, I now have more to live for. And so do you.”

  Imhara’s eyelids closed and her jaw flexed. Her throat worked hard. She sucked in one uneven breath after another.

  “You’ve always told me you’d do anything for your Clan. Make any decision, take any action, to help them.” Arek wanted to smooth the frown from her brow, but he didn’t think she’d welcome his touch, given he had one last thing to say to her. “If you go after Savyr now, you’ll do more damage to them than he ever has. They need a leader, not a martyr.”

  Her eyes snapped open as her hands fisted so tight her knuckles went white. He braced himself, expecting some sort of physical response. It didn’t come. She just stared at him for the longest time, her gaze haunted.

  Stark.

  “When you’ve lived with something that’s been a part of your life for so long, letting go isn’t easy.” Her hoarsely spoken words gave him hope.

  “Agreed. But it can be done. Together, if you want.”

  Her hands flexed and she gave a jerky nod. “I’m still not happy leaving Savyr alive.”

  “None of us are, Imhara,” Rassan assured her.

  Arek gave in to temptation and touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Disgruntled but breathing. I’m sure Rassan and I can live with that.”

  The wildness in her gaze seemed more controlled. She shot a look over his shoulder. “Light, he’s too much like you.”

  A snort came from behind Arek. “I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

  A tentative knock sounded at the door. Rassan moved quickly for a man his size. He pressed himself up against the wall behind the door.

  “Na Kaal, is everything all right?” Ilahn’s muffled query reached them.

  They all exchanged looks.

  “I’ll buy us some time,” Imhara murmured. She joined Rassan. “Everything’s fine, trader.”

  “Are you sure? The attendants said they heard . . . arguing.”

  She snorted softly. “Nice way of saying pitched battle,” she murmured, then raised her voice. “Second Yur and I disagreed on a point of discussion. Apologies if we disturbed anyone. He will be leaving shortly.”

  A long silence, and Arek shared another look with Rassan. The Na’Chi’s expression remained alert.

  “Very well, Na Kaal. Please let us know if you need anything.”

  Arek released the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. Bodies scattered haphazardly over the bedroom floor might have been hard to explain had the trader entered the room. At least he observed his own rules.

  But for how long, that was the question.

  “We need to get out of this House.” Arek glanced between them. “Ilahn knows Yur came in here with his men. Isn’t it going to seem strange if we walk out of here unescorted?”

  Imhara shared a smile with her Second. “With so many of his clients demanding anonymity, Ilahn goes to great lengths to ensure their privacy.”

  Rassan sheathed his sword and headed to one of the windows. He jerked back the curtain and pushed open the shutters. The faint chiming of bells drifted into the room.

  “There’s a landing and stairway outside the windows in every room on this floor,” Imhara explained. “They descend to the street below.”

  Arek scooped up one of the Na’Reish daggers, tucked it into his belt, and draped his shirt over the top of it. He was tempted to pick up the sword, but out on the streets, he didn’t know who they’d come across. A slave carrying one would bring them only trouble they couldn’t afford. A dagger, on the other hand, held the element of surprise. He motioned Imhara to the window.

  Rassan stepped back and gestured for them to go first. “Time to go. We’ve outstayed our welcome.”

  * * *

  RASSAN signaled them to halt in the shadowed overhang of a balcony. The reason became clear when the pounding of boot steps on cobblestones drifted through the wall of ethereal fog ahead of them. The closer they came, the more the thump of leather on stone drowned out the distant ringing of the fortress gate bells.

  “Patrol,” her Second whispered.

  Imhara tightened her hand around Arek’s and tugged him behind her into a small alcove, possibly the side entrance to whatever business inhabited the building.

  The structures a
round them were mostly closed businesses, anonymous gray forms towering above them in the dark, with only the occasional night lamp hanging outside a doorway or a window lighting up a patch of ground on the pathway outside.

  Her heart beat harder. “That’s the fourth we’ve come across tonight.” An uneasy sense of foreboding settled between her shoulder blades. “What’s going on?”

  A shrug accompanied Rassan’s grim expression. “We need to get off the streets. There’s no cover here.”

  This late at night, few wandered the street. Come daylight that would change as traders, slaves, and customers roamed the business district.

  Her Second glanced up and down the street. “There. A stairway.”

  He led the way.

  “We’re crossing the cobblestone street and heading into a small alleyway between buildings,” Imhara murmured to Arek.

  The closer they drew to the fortress gates, the thicker Oreese’s fog became. Traversing the shrouded streets had become much more difficult, but more so for Arek, as he lacked their enhanced night-sight. Not that she minded the slower pace. The healing wound in her side ached, the stitchlike pain hurting more the faster they moved.

  She counted down the distance as she guided him across. “Gutter. Step up. The stairway takes us onto the curtain wall.”

  “Why do you think there are so many patrols on the streets?” Arek’s grip tightened as they entered the dark alleyway.

  “Perhaps Ilahn’s already raised the alarm.”

  Arek’s scent thickened, and although he didn’t say it out loud, Imhara knew what he was thinking. If the trader had alerted Savyr to Yur’s death, then the fortress gates would be shut and patrols would be looking for them.

  Regardless of the reason for the increased presence of patrols on the streets, they needed to avoid meeting anyone if it was at all possible. Her bloodstained shirt would bring questions they didn’t want to answer.

  “Imhara!” Rassan’s urgent hiss came from the top of the stairway. A rumble of thunder accompanied his hail. “You’ve got to see this!”

  As she and Arek ascended the last few stairs, they joined Rassan in an empty, corner guard tower. It gave a clear view of the southern and western sides of the fortress. Crossing to the southern parapet, a gust of wind carried the scent of rain and acrid odor of smoke. Wondering why the tower was empty was pushed aside as her breath caught at the panorama spread out on the other side of the river that ran beside the fortress.