To JD and EC.
Because confidence is sexy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I can’t imagine writing a word, let alone a novel, without the support of my family, friends, and amazing colleagues. My eternal gratitude to my tireless agent, and once again to Lauren and Kate for pushing, pulling, and sometimes shoving me to the next level. Thank you all.
PROLOGUE
TWENTY YEARS AGO
I need your help. Tallis, please, I need you.”
The Sun. She was back.
Tallis of Pendray wanted to jerk free of his dream. He wouldn’t listen to her exotic, lilting seductions. He would wake up this time. He would.
“You try my patience and break my heart,” she whispered. “You’re fighting me when there’s no need to fight. Don’t wake. Stay with me. Stay . . .”
Her steely words were coated with sweet honey. This was the sixth time she’d slipped into his nighttime mind. Five times previous, he’d refused to obey unthinkable entreaties spoken by a wide, smiling mouth. Five times previous, he’d awoken to the dawn sunlight streaming through the windows of Castle Clannarah, convinced he was losing his mind.
By the Dragon or the Chasm, he wasn’t going to look himself in the mirror come morning and ask the same questions.
Is she real? Is she right?
Am I going mad?
“Always the same worries in that fevered mind of yours.”
“You’re in my mind,” he replied, although his voice sounded metallic and distant. “It will always be fevered.”
“I’m afraid that’s true. You deserve better than all this confusion.”
Tallis wanted to wake, but there was a reason he’d endured her nightmare appearances. Again. And again. And again. Colors glistened on her skin, as if she were a woman made of light rather than flesh. The swirl of her silken gown created yet another shimmer that haloed her entire body. Dark hair with caramel highlights swished back to reveal ethereally perfect features. Eve, Helen of Troy, Lady Godiva—none of them would compare. How could they? They were human.
The Sun was a Dragon King.
Tallis was, too, but she made him feel like a commoner crawling in the dirt just to bow at her feet. She had chosen him. Who was he to deny the wishes of a goddess when she offered the warmth of her golden attention?
“I’ve asked you before.” She hovered just out of reach, but her breath brushed his cheek. “Are you ready?”
“I can’t,” he rasped. “What you ask . . . It’s obscene. It’s criminal. I will not kill for you.”
“The true crime is what has become of your people. The Pendray are ready to rip one another to pieces. You are so few in numbers compared to the other Five Clans. Soon you’ll be as lost as the Garnis, reduced to a few frail remnants who’d rather spit at one another than claim kinship.”
“Murder will stop more murder?”
“Shhh.”
She placed a hand to his brow. Tallis hissed through his teeth. It was the first time she’d touched him. His body went rigid so quickly that he feared he’d wake. He didn’t want to, not now, not when she was finally skin to skin. He closed his eyes and absorbed the soft warmth of her fingers threading into his hair. He sank deeper into the realm of sleep.
“Tallis.” She said his name with a slice of warning.
As with the hours after sunset when cool shadows reign, the Sun’s withdrawal was just as chilling. Tallis reached out to grab her hand, but she slipped away. A frustrated growl reminded him of his capacity to do harm. A beast waited in his blood—the Pendray gift from the Dragon—and that beast was rousing from its sleep.
“You want me in your arms,” the Sun said, her voice bold with confidence.
“Yes.”
“And what else?”
“I want you beneath me.”
“And?”
“I want to be inside you.”
She smiled as if she’d already given permission and was only waiting for him to grab her and lay her down. “I want that, too. Shall I show you how much?”
He nodded, or he thought he did. The dream world had become as real as the North Sea, with its icy aqua waters. He loved the view from the top of the crest, just north of his family’s ancient castle. Although the sea’s waves were a roiling tempest, they had the opposite effect on his thoughts. He was always calm when looking out across that imposing scene, knowing his people had mastered its waters for millennia.
This was real. As real as the sea.
“Show me,” he said. “Please.”
The Sun began to disrobe. She wore a sari worthy of an Indian princess. That she slid into his dreams meant she was likely Indranan, those of the Five Clans blessed by the Dragon with telepathy. Whether real or telepathic didn’t matter when she unwrapped gossamer layer after layer to reveal the pristine, luminous skin of a naked woman. She was breathtaking. Breasts tipped with pale gold. Waist and hips a perfectly symmetrical set of curves. Legs long and elegant, all the way to her pointed toes. She tossed back her hair and spread her arms skyward, as if she were the one worshiping an ancient pagan god, rather than a goddess presenting herself to Tallis.
If he was mad, he didn’t care.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I can’t . . . I can’t resist anymore.”
“You make this sound so terrible, Tallis, my handsome one.”
“Beheading a priest? Of course it’s terrible.” Lust hummed through his body, burning with the strength of an angered animal caged by iron bars and prodded from all sides. He was aroused, hard, aching. He craved sanity, but he was willing to forgo it for what he really craved. Violence. Sex. The freeing release of both.
She shifted so that her mouth was merely inches from his. “Right now, you want to kill. You’d kill me if you could.”
“I would.”
“You won’t. You want to make me happy.”
She was nude, beautiful, and so very close. But that could’ve described any woman. The Sun, however, was hypnotic. Every time Tallis thought he could peer through the soft rays of light that surrounded her and blurred her features, she shifted. He saw only what she wanted him to see. She was the ultimate mystery, even when she presented herself as a vulnerable, stripped goddess.
“I’ll make you happy, too, Tallis. Let me show you.”
She kissed him.
Lip to lip.
Then deeper.
Without words she gave Tallis permission to unleash his gathering violence. They kissed like Pendray in the midst of a berserker rage, where pleasure and pain merged into a ferocious dance of push, pull, scratch, claw.
He had her in his arms. Yes.
He had her stretched beneath him. Yes.
But as Tallis gripped his ready cock and positioned the head between her wet folds, she was gone. He thrust into nothing. He bucked and fought, howling his frustration, spitting with anger at her and at himself. She’d taken him so far. She’d given him so much.
She’d snatched it all away.
He couldn’t see himself from that dream perspective, but he felt the embarrassment of kneeling and being unable to hide his erection. Shame burned his cheeks as he looked up. The Sun was hovering again, clothed again, smiling as if she hadn’t just teased him within an inch of insanity.
“Get back here,” he growled.
“You’re not giving orders, Tallis. We have so much to do. And I have more to do than show you my bare skin.”
He blinked and looked at her again—and froze. She was no longer hovering but riding a dragon as real as anything he’d ever beheld while conscious. The creature was even more real than the Sun, who continued to shift though myriad colors and forms.
“Do you see? You and I are bound. I will tease you, cajole you, even pity you. You will h
ate me and worship me. And in the end, you will do as I bid because we have both been chosen by the Great Dragon.”
The magnificent creature turned its face toward Tallis. Strong ridges outlined its brow and hid small, dark eyes. It wasn’t scaly but layered with what appeared to be endless varieties of fabric, in shades of black, orange, blue, purple, a fiery red—anything a waking eye could behold. The effect was radiant. Every movement rippled across its long torso and forked tail. It bared its teeth in a wide grimace. A lolling tongue appeared just before a burst of flame and a snort of smoke escaped.
Elegant and eternal, the Dragon was so humbling that Tallis hugged the ground in a deep bow. He shuddered. He could no longer look upon the creature that had birthed their race, knowing his eyes would burn to cinders and madness would follow.
The Sun rode the Dragon. A true goddess.
“You know what I say is true and just. Our people are dying.”
He didn’t lift his head. The dream had become the most astonishing nightmare. “We can reverse that?”
“Yes, we can. The Chasm isn’t fixed.”
Chilly air rippled across his back, accompanied by the swish of flapping wings. The Sun traced two fingers beneath his chin, lifting, so that they looked each other in the eye. The Great Dragon was near yet far in that way dreams could warp perspective, yet she still rode upon its back like Boudicca into battle. No mist or light or golden silk swirled between them. He clearly saw the color of her eyes. Amber. The swirling amber of a consuming fire—the fire breathed by the Dragon as it began to fly away.
“I will let you touch me every time we meet,” she said, her voice receding. “One day, I will let you unleash that monstrous temper and take what you want from my body. Take from me. I will be yours completely.”
“Fix the Chasm. How?”
“You kill for me. Whenever I ask. No matter who it is. You’ll behead one Dragon King after another. We will rid our people of those who sow discord and hatred. Only when we achieve unity will we be able to heal what has been bleeding for thousands of years. Our people. I command you just as the Dragon commands me.”
She’d won. Even without the miracle of witnessing their Creator, the tingle up his spine whispered that she would’ve won anyway. She always would.
“I’ll be hated. I’ll have to flee. Leave my family. I’ll never have a home after tonight.”
The Sun blew him a kiss before fading into darkness. “Yes, dear one, but you will always have me.”
CHAPTER
ONE
Kavya’s thoughts were weighted by responsibility, and the ever-pressing knowledge that the Dragon Kings were a people on the edge of extinction. That meant the collection of faithful gathered in a craggy notch in the Pir Panjal foothills of the Himalayas was exceptional. From her secluded place behind an altar made of burnished orange granite, Kavya extended her awareness into the vast crowd.
She was especially heartened to feel so many assembled from the Indranan, one of the Dragon’s sacred Five Clans. Her clan. The telepathic Indranan had been divided for three thousand years of civil war. Northern versus Southern factions. And for reasons every Dragon King knew too well, they were collectively known as the Heartless.
Although physically sluggish from bearing the mantle of her duties, Kavya cleared her consciousness of outside thoughts. She would need the full extent of her limited telepathy for the task awaiting her. Today was special. Intimidatingly so. She would make her first appearance before these hundreds who’d traveled the globe to see her in person.
To see the woman they’d dubbed the Sun.
Kavya waited until exactly noon to ascend the altar’s few makeshift granite steps. This moment was her burden and her joy.
Standing tall, she sucked in a shallow breath. “So many.”
Before her extended a valley, like a deep bowl being held by rocky, jutting fingers. Evergreens were scattered throughout, but few dared set their roots in the valley’s steep walls. Worn canvas tents of varying sizes were packed side by side—countless grains of rice in that mountain bowl, seasoned by smoke from small cooking fires. Despite having grown up in some of India’s most populous cities, Kavya had never witnessed an assembly to rival this, with so many minds and senses working in concert, focused as one.
On her.
A gust of cold air rushed down from the slopes. Whispers—those given voice and those passed from mind to mind—faded to nothing. That late autumn wind blowing through crevices became the only sound.
“So many of you,” she said, with volume enough to be heard. “Welcome. Oh, thank the Dragon. Welcome.”
She worked to steady the pitch and cadence of her voice. She hadn’t dubbed herself the Sun, but that’s what most had come to expect—radiance and incandescent light. Kavya had fostered that image for years, for her own anonymous safety and to promote the growing influence of her cause. People responded to symbols even more readily than to earnest people. People could have agendas; symbols had the power to transcend suspicions born of rational thought.
She needed to become everything to everyone. No sudden movements. No reason for anyone to turn around and walk up the valley pass.
Especially the Indranan.
Her head already throbbed from the effort. After all, she had been born as one of three triplets. She possessed only a third of the Dragon’s gift.
“I’m humbled by the distances you’ve traveled and the seas, mountains, and plains you’ve crossed to join me here. You are the first of a new age. Northern and Southern Indranan together, sharing the same air and the same hopes for a future forged of trust, not continued spite. Some of you come to us from the other four clans. I welcome you and ask for your aid as we of the Indranan work to heal old hurts.”
Even members of Clan Garnis were present. They were known as the Lost, but they weren’t extinct. She could pick out those rare minds as if finding diamonds among dust. They were skittish among the press of so many bodies.
“Our people are dying,” she said bluntly.
Many gasped. Some cried out in quiet despair.
Kavya extended her hands before clasping them together—a woman giving a gift, a woman begging for help. She was both. “Please help me. We must not be the ones to bring about our own extinction. Previous generations turned away from the truth. We will be the last if we follow their example.”
Looking out, she couldn’t identify any particular face. Instead she saw black—the ceremonial robes and saris of the Dragon Kings, each accented with their clan’s color. The Indranan were the exception in that they did not wear a uniform shade of blue. Those from the north of the Indian subcontinent wore the pale turquoise of a high mountain sky. Those from the south wore the deep ultramarine of the ocean coastlines they called home. A trio of Indranan women, roughly eighty years old in middle age, stood nearest to the altar with upturned faces. Two Northern and one Southern.
Holding hands.
Astonishing.
“Each of our Leaderships know that conception has become nearly impossible. Not even the Dragon King Council can deny that we are a dying race—we, who have shaped the civilizations of this world from their infancies. What would each culture, each continent, be without our influence? This has led many, dare I say most of our kind, to believe us better than humans.”
She paused, breathed, recentered. An Indranan could only touch one mind at a time. To mentally project the image of an appealing yet unassuming woman—one who radiated the indescribable shine her followers longed to worship—she individually brushed that impression over every mind in the valley. Over and over again. She used her gift at a speed beyond conscious thought, a skill she’d honed through the years as the number of faithful increased. If she became too impassioned, she lost her trancelike concentration. Yet passion was exactly what she needed to impart.
Those few followers she knew personally were out there somewhere, among the rapt throng. She wished she could find one of them, to derive a measure of comfort,
like a familiar blanket to hold during long, frigid nights. Knowing she was in the right would have to shore up her courage.
“What’s the use of thinking ourselves better if we can’t hold children of our own? The time has come for reconciliation, and through reconciliation will come solutions—and the future we long for.”
Her words must’ve touched her followers because the murmurs that had threaded through her soliloquy strengthened into applause and even shouts of approval.
“At dusk this evening, I will make an announcement to reward your faith. Some call us a cult. The Sun Cult. But we are not a religion. We all have our means of worshiping the Dragon. This, our gathering, is a meeting of forward-thinking individuals. And finally, with hope, I can say that two such individuals are here among us, joined in a vow of cooperation.”
With a swell of pride behind her breastbone, she once again lifted her hands—this time in triumph. “Northern and Southern, at last you will have better than bellowed accusations of past crimes and threats of retribution. You will use peaceful voices in thoughtful discussion. As the woman you call the Sun, I swear it.”
The applause was breathtaking. Slack, stunned faces transformed. Kavya saw relief and curiosity, but mostly joy. Some embraced or turned to clap each other on the back. None gave any sign of typical clan suspicions, either physically or with what she could sense of the crowd’s mood. Neither Indranan faction seemed to remember that they’d warred for countless years, or that fresh blood spilled a generation before—at the massacre known as the Juvine—had renewed three millennia of hatred.
Kavya lowered her head and interlaced her fingers. Her mother had taught her, You can hold our homeland in your hands. The rise and fall of your fingers become our mountains and valleys.
That was Kavya’s earliest memory. Her last memories of her mother were colored by madness and an indescribable sense of loss.
She needed order. Although beautiful, the ridges of rock that marked the far western edge of the Himalayas had no order. Random peaks. Irregular riverbeds. High glaciers that changed with the seasons and the passing of time, and trees that bent beneath fierce wind and heavy snow. Kavya aligned her knuckles. None stood higher than the others. Only then did she feel calmer, which was more important than happiness. Those who’d gathered in the Pir Panjal could be happy. She still had work to do.
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