Not trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded. Although his people had certainly come a long way from the outright fear and hatred many had exhibited when she’d first come to the Plains, the khuls would not be pleased if they had to wait for her to arrive before Khul would hear their grievances. It was no easy feat to graze thousands of horses and keep so many warriors occupied.
“Don’t delay too long, my heart.”
She pressed against Khan’s flank and wrapped her hands around Rhaekhar’s bare thigh. Someone in the watching group of gossipers gasped, but she ignored them. “Three days.”
“And three nights,” he growled, the muscle flexing beneath her. His hands tightened on the reins and he shifted in the saddle, but Khan was too well trained to prance aside in response. “Plus your own saddle time to catch me. Now I know where we got the name ‘Three Hells.’”
She couldn’t help a small laugh. “Poor Khul. Perhaps I should bring an extra vial of that oil home with me in order to make it up to you.”
Leather creaked as he leaned down. He stroked his thumb across her lips. “Do so. I believe the promise I made to you was perfectly clear.”
She swallowed hard and refused to sneak a quick peek at her Blood she knew stood at her back. “Are you sure that’s a promise you’re willing to keep?”
“Absolutely.” He laughed softly, still stroking her lips. “Sal offered to let you eat him up. Let’s see if he survives.”
Despite his teasing, she knew what he wanted. He wouldn’t with a whole herd of outlanders watching their every move. But she would.
Fisting her hands in his hair, she dragged his mouth to hers.
On a low rumble of approval, he straightened and hauled her up into his lap. Tangled in his long hair, surrounded by his strength, bonded through his love, she kissed him with no reservations. Flung wide open, her heart, mind, and bond were his. As golden as his eyes, his bond lit the darkest corners of her soul. Where she carried Shadow, he brought light and warmth and unquestioning love. The best gift she could give him was to let him see and know her heart as no other.
They may have loved and lived together for years, but only rarely did she show such vulnerability. She never wanted him to be stained by her darkness or turn aside in horror at what he might see in her heart.
:Never.: His bond blazed, a beacon so bright that even the indestructible glowing red of nine Blood bonds dimmed in comparison. :I will never turn aside from you, Shannari. My heart is yours. My love is unshakeable.:
:Even when darkness swallows me whole?:
:Then all I possess will be swallowed as well. We shall not surrender this kae’don, na’lanna. I shall never surrender you, not while I have breath in my body.:
His bond shone in her mind, his body an invincible shelter. How she longed to simply curl up in his arms and let him carry her away from the constant political turmoil, endless assassins, and grim destiny.
She felt it, then, the great temptation to simply love this warrior, with no Rose Crown weighing down her head, no High Throne hovering in the background, no allies and wars, no dread beasts of Shadow on the horizon.
He’d do it. He’d leave his Camp. He’d drop every last bead from his hair, rip off his honor, and walk hand in hand with her and their children to a place where no one knew she was the Last Daughter.
Opening her eyes, she met his molten gaze, still locked mouth to mouth and sharing the same breath. Unshakeable, he’d said, and he meant it. For her love, he’d turn his back on every single thing in this world. If he thought any danger approached, he would meet it singlehandedly and count his death as nothing if it meant she might live.
Love, the greatest gift of all, and the greatest sacrifice.
Everything unraveled in her mind. All the plots and schemes, her strategy for keeping her throne and driving back the Keldari raiders who encroached deeper into the Green Lands each and every day. His own battles had become hers; naturally, she strategized with him on how to keep the Nine Camps united and strong. Now, those Camps dispersed, fluttering away in a tremendous wind.
Dust. Everything was dust. Everything tumbled to the ground, the Shining Walls that had never been breached by any army—except hers—mere rubble.
She felt poised over a bottomless chasm. Any move could plunge her into darkness. Shanhasson stood on one side, her people, even the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan and other nations of the world. They hung by a thread, but that thread was tied to her. It dragged at her constantly, such a weight, such a burden.
Every muscle ached. Her heart yearned to soar, galloping like the wind across the hills to wander in the holy secret Tenth Camp at the top of Vulkar’s Mountain. There, she would hold her Shadowed Blood again with Rhaekhar at her side. Her children could grow safe and happy, untouched by the world’s responsibilities. They could all avoid the insidious taint of Shadow.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her left hand around Gregar’s ivory rahke. Her palm burned, the memory of how she’d sacrificed her own blood a searing memory that would never die. Once, the knife had gleamed in her hand, a beacon of light in the darkest Shadow, but ever since she had taken Shanhasson, the light in the ivory rahke had died.
What does it mean? Have I already lost this battle?
In her mind, she stared at the slender thread that bore the weight of the world. One cut, and all her worries and responsibilities would slide into oblivion. She’d be free.
Rhaekhar’s breath puffed gently against her face. “Decide. I love you either way.”
Tears flowed down her face. It would be heavenly to be free. Free to love, free to live away from the turmoil of the High Court and most of all, free from Shadow. Yet there were no promises ahead, even if she cut her responsibilities and ran with Rhaekhar somewhere far away.
Shadow would never let her hide from this world for long.
Blessed Lady, what would You have me do?
Crystal water welled deep within her soul. Cold like a pure alpine spring, that water had never seen the Shadow of night because the Lady’s Moon was a constant beacon in the night.
A hint of midnight velvet glided through her mind: Gregar, her laughing Shadowed Blood. He’d already paid the ultimate price for her love. He’d died to save her life, and nothing she’d done had been able to save him.
:I would die a thousand times to know your love once.: He whispered in her mind, the chilling Shadow of his gift spreading across her back, his favorite position of defense.
:What am I supposed to do? What is the Gods’ will?:
:Love. Whatever that means. Even when it hurts so badly it would be a mercy to die a thousand deaths.:
She felt the swords hacking at his body, as though the day of his death played out in his mind. No pain had kept him from her, no steel, no creature of Shadow, not even death. :Nothing will keep Khul from you, as long as you love.:
:I loved you and you died. I lost you.:
Wracking pain filled his bond as if the last fatal wound struck him again, the sword slicing his heart in two. :You never lost me, na’lanna, else I would not be here. You will never lose Khul, either.:
Her heart stuttered, refusing to beat. Her mind reeled. She felt again that sense of falling, the world coming undone, fading away to nothing.
Yet Rhaekhar’s arms held firm. Gregar’s cold ghostly weight remained at her back. Beyond, she felt her nine Blood encircling her, their bonds blazing red in the darkest shadow.
:Your Lady blessed you well.:
Which could be considered a curse, for those whom She blessed well, loved, and lost.
:Are you saying I should abandon Shanhasson and flee with Khul?:
:You know your honor. You know Khul’s. You know mine. You know your Blood’s. Love them and live with honor. Love never dies, na’lanna.: Yet his bond rang with grim finality like a funeral bell. :The cost is great for so much love. Flee your destiny, abandon kae’valda, yours and Khul’s, and yet you must still pay the cost. Love will hurt you, na’lann
a, as I hurt you. As Khul will hurt you, and Dharman if you let him. Yet without our love, you will not survive.:
:How will Khul hurt me?:
Awful silence filled her mind, bleak, cold and empty.
Gregar suddenly felt far away. His voice had been ragged with pain and sorrow. Was he leaving her? The thought shredded her heart all over again. Despite his death, she’d been able to hold him in Dreams. If she lost that too…
She couldn’t bear to lose him again. :Gregar, don’t leave! Tell me what I should do!:
:Shannari dal’Dainari never ran from anything.:
* * *
NO MATTER HER INNER TURMOIL, Dharman knew what she would decide. Khul’lanna had as much courage and honor as any warrior, and no warrior of honor would turn away from his duty, destiny, and the Gods’ will. She wouldn’t, either, no matter how much she longed to simply disappear from the demands of the world.
If only she could face her heart with as much courage.
Not once had she thought of her Blood. In all those moments of temptations and struggles, she’d never considered what such a choice would cost them. She was their sole honor; if she died or tossed aside her own honor without a care in the world, she would destroy them utterly. If she asked, Dharman would follow her into the Three Hells simply because he loved her.
But the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
She made a low sound of regret and pressed her face into Khul’s neck, burrowing into his arms as though she wished to climb inside his body and never leave. She stroked her fingers lightly across the mark on his throat. She breathed deeply, long inhales as though she could drag him into her lungs and never let him escape.
Then Khul’lanna and High Queen of all the Green Lands straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and smiled, albeit shakily and tear-stained. “The Lady’s Moon shines in your eyes.”
“And I love you, my na’lanna Evening Star. I shall guide my life by your light. I shall wait for you no matter how long it takes.” Khul turned his attention to her Blood. “If any harm comes to her, your blood is mine.”
“No harm shall come to her,” Dharman replied flatly. He couldn’t even look at her. “My blood has always been hers, and Khul’lanna has always been yours.”
She sighed, bewilderment flickering through her bond at his words.
“I am not the only warrior who loves you,” Khul reminded her gently. “I am not the only warrior who wishes he could carry you away to safety and never let you fight another kae’don, risking your life for outlanders who know nothing of the cost.”
“Gregar—”
Dharman stiffened, his shoulders shaking with rage and hurt. He would have wheeled and strode away, if only he were free to do so, yet honor and his love chained him to her side, even when she wounded his heart.
“Oh, Dharman,” she whispered in a shaking fragile voice that made him want to unsheathe his rahke and plunge it into his heart.
He fought to keep the bitterness and agony hidden from his face and voice. That his bond raged with such emotion and she remained oblivious confirmed that she only rarely listened to his bond. He touched hers constantly, her barest thought or feeling ringing like a bell in his mind. “I may be your First Blood, but I always knew you had a First and Second between us and your heart.”
After one last kiss, Khul lowered her back to the ground. An entire herd of outlanders had gathered to gawk at the barbarians. Dharman knew the weight such constant attention put on her mind and heart. That she loved Khul enough to put on such a display didn’t surprise him.
What rocked the earth beneath Dharman’s feet was her hand sliding into his hair. A tug brought his mouth down to hers. She whispered against his mouth, “I’m sorry.”
Surely a hundred years had passed since she’d last kissed him. Preparing to challenge Theo for the High Throne and afraid all she loved would die, she’d let him kiss her before Khul and the waiting outlanders. Then it had been brief and hard, full of desperation and fear. This kiss was a slow exploration, a promise of so much more. Dharman tasted her mouth, the softness of her lips, the rich darkness of her tongue sliding into his mouth, and his hurt melted away.
When she pulled away, he reminded her solemnly, “You promised something else that day.”
Vulkar, he loved the way her cheeks colored. She stole a quick look at Khul still waiting on his na’kindre, not a hint of anger on his face that she’d kissed another warrior in front of him. “I never—”
“Aye, she did,” Khul interrupted. “It’s past time for her to repay that promise. The first night she’s back in my blankets in my tent in my Camp with me, you will receive what she promised.”
She held herself very still, frozen like a rabbit sighted by a starving wolf. Dharman waited for her to refuse. If she did, neither he nor Khul would force the promise upon her. He would wait an eternity, if only she asked him with true love and desire when she was ready. Finally, she nodded, just one quick jerk of her head, but he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and run for his na’kindre to get her back to the Plains all the quicker.
“Sal.” When her Second Blood didn’t respond, she slid out of Dharman’s embrace and moved to stand before him. For once, Sal had managed to keep his mouth shut instead of making a blatant joke, which should tell her exactly how badly they both had been hurt. Any other day, Sal would have been throwing himself at her feet to win a kiss.
She stood before him, trying to decide how best to reward—and torment him at the same time. Lightly, she reached out and touched the pale scar on his lower abdomen.
Sal sucked in his breath.
“Do you remember how you earned this scar?”
He nodded, his eyes widening. He glanced at Dharman, seeking his reaction or permission, he wasn’t sure, but he was simply grateful his friend didn’t look to Khul. At last, someone looked to him as First. Dharman gave a small nod and came up behind her, lightly settling his hands on her hips.
She wrapped her left hand in the red hair tumbled past Sal’s shoulders. Slowly and deliberately, she twisted his hair about her fists, pulling him down to her. It wasn’t in Sal’s nature to go gently; he enjoyed the pain, the steady pull, and the hint of force she used to make him come to her.
This she understood about Sal and was willing to give him. Dharman couldn’t be jealous of his bonded Blood brother, but he couldn’t help but wish she would take as much care with his own needs.
She moved too quickly for his eyes to track, but he felt her intent through the bond. The tip of her rahke dug into the tender flesh of Sal’s stomach. “Perhaps you’d let me reopen this wound and drink from it this time.”
Without hesitation, Sal whispered, “I’d let you do anything you want. Anything at all.”
Dharman felt the shiver of dread that rushed through her. Immediately, he tightened his grip on her hips and drew her back against his body. :I won’t let you hurt him more than he likes.:
“Perhaps you should drill with your Blood later, na’lanna.” Rhaekhar laughed, shaking his head. “If you taste Sal now, then I won’t find the desire within me to leave until you’ve tasted me as well, and then I might as well wait until the morrow.”
Khul’lanna held Sal’s forehead to hers, the rahke still at his stomach. “Am I forgiven?”
He pushed forward just enough to break the skin. Eyes filling with the darkness of his need, he shivered. “Aye, always, Khul’lanna. It’s an honor to serve. My blood is yours, anyplace and anytime you desire it.”
Releasing his hair, she stepped away, but her eyes lingered on the fine trail of blood that disappeared into the memsha wrapped about Sal’s waist. She took a deep breath and forced her attention to Khul, who smiled at her.
“Much better than tears, na’lanna. In three days, you had best be riding as fast as your mare’s namesake to the south, or I shall come fetch you myself.”
“Three days,” she agreed, clearing her throat.
Dharman felt the surge of tearful emotion
raging in her heart, but outwardly, she didn’t display any further emotion. “May Our Blessed Lady keep you well and safe until then.”
At his subtle heel touched to the na’kindre’s flank, the stallion reared, clattering hooves on the tiled stones. “If any harm comes to my Khul’lanna, Vulkar help me I shall ride you all down like the curs you are. So says Khul of the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan.”
* * *
AT LEAST TEMPORARILY, SHANNARI WAS able to keep her mind off her loved ones’ departure by wearing herself out mentally and physically. She’d met with her advisers both in the morning and afternoon, with private interviews with her father in between. She’d managed to fit in a session with the Blood, drilling with rahkes until she dripped with sweat and both Dharman and Sal bled. And yes, to keep her promise to them and make amends for hurting their young warrior pride earlier, she’d tasted their blood. Not enough to do something embarrassing, although Sal had especially been disappointed.
She’d even drilled with the next two Blood in the hierarchy, Jorah and Lew, at the same time. She didn’t typically drill with any but her closest Blood, so their different styles gave her the challenge she needed. She ached from head to toe, and a long, quiet soak in her private bath sounded heavenly.
If it were private.
Entering her bedroom, she waited for the right moment to broach the subject. Seven Blood scattered throughout the room. Tall as a pine sapling but filled out after three years, Lew took the door with his friend, Jahne, whose broad shoulders and barrel chest reminded her of a bulldog. Golden-haired Jorah trotted ahead to her bath, surely to make sure no one had tried to hide inside. Although she hadn’t said a word about it, they knew her intention.
Of course they knew her desire to be alone. Yet they said nothing, so she remained quiet as well. The rest of the Blood looked beneath the massive bed, inside the wardrobe and garderobe. She took a step deeper, but Sal slipped in front of her, using his body to block the way.
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