“What’s wrong, Stephan?” Reaching into his shirt, Asad jerked a leather thong loose and dropped not one dull-black ring onto his palm but two. The rings had twisted and melded together, covering his finger to the knuckle when he slipped it on. “Did you think you were the only servant capable of being reborn? Your ring simply made mine all the more powerful.”
Mykal's pain meant nothing. Nor his death. How had the man found that Leesha-damned ring? How many more roamed the world, waiting to chain brightheart for Shadow?
“This time I was given the secret role. I was to watch you win the prize as part of my punishment. Instead, it appears as though I will win His favor at last. Was she that good in bed, my very good friend?” Asad put deliberate emphasis on the word, his lips curling in a snarl. “Is one night with her worth eternal suffering in hell?”
“Iyeh,” Mykal whispered. Through her bond, he focused all his strength and love to send the warning. :My rav, Asad, is Theo reborn. Send your Blood to kill him now.:
Her bond surged with all the powers of the moon and the rivers and lakes of the world, flooding him with sweet, healing waters. She bled to heal him. To save him. :I’m coming with my Blood to help you.:
:No!: He blasted a furious cloud of fumes through the bond. :He wears my ring! Don’t come near him or you’ll be chained for Shadow!:
* * *
TREMBLING, SHANNARI FOUGHT TO KEEP a serene and regal façade through the formal dinner while her dragon suffered and roared, helplessly trapped. Lady help him, she whispered in her mind, crying silent tears that she couldn’t show. What were they doing to him? Pain boiled through the bond, a hissing, bubbling burn that felt worse than anything she’d ever experienced, even when Rhaekhar and Gregar had died.
Theo was torturing him, yet Mykal had enough strength to block the details through their bond. He didn’t want her to know how badly he suffered.
Unobtrusively, she kept her bleeding hand beneath the table while her guests ate. As long as she bled, she could Heal whatever damage was done to him, which only lengthened his pain. If she let him die, his suffering would end.
:Hurry,: she pleaded to her First.
Dharman leaned against the Shining Walls outside Shanhasson. :Hold his bond in your mind so I may find him quicker.:
Through his eyes, she saw the countless black-hide tents and despaired of ever finding Mykal. It’d taken a direct order to peel Dharman off her back and send him after her Keldari, but she needed the best of the best to free him. He’d refused to take any of her other Blood, but Khul had accompanied him with several warriors. If the Keldari objected to trespassing in their encampment, he’d at least have swords at hand.
Holding Mykal’s bond firm in her mind, she breathed deeply, letting his pain wash through her. Lady above, what was Theo doing to him?
Sal touched her shoulder, bringing her attention back to the formal dinner. All the guests stared at her expectantly. Forcing a smile, she wrapped the napkin around her left hand and allowed the Blood to assist her from the ornate chair. Without Sal and Jorah both holding her elbows, she wouldn’t have been able to stand. Mykal’s pain was too bad.
:Help is coming,: she whispered soothingly. :Hold on.:
:Leave me.: Even his mental voice rasped, hollowed with pain. :Kill Asad and let me die.:
:Which is Asad? How will Dharman know without finding you?:
He snarled in his mind, lashing out with tail and claws, pain and frustration sending his beast into a frenzy.
:Can you shift and end this torment? Your dragon can eat him—:
:He has the ring! He can transform too, and he’ll be able to walk as a man again. If I shift, I’ll be a dragon that you’ll still have to put down.:
:Nobody is going to put you down,: she snarled back, letting him have a good taste of the White Dragon.
His control wavered a moment, long enough to let her see his injuries. :I’m ruined, brightheart.:
Laughing with an unholy glint in his eyes, a man she’d never seen before but immediately recognized as containing Theo’s soul tilted a flask over Mykal’s lower abdomen. Howling, bucking, he fought to get away from the acid that smoked and blistered his flesh. It ate away his body, caving in his stomach, dripping down his legs and ribcage.
:Let me die.:
Her knees sagged. Sal drew her up against him, murmuring softly and trying to comfort her, but her stomach pitched. He turned her around and held her while she vomited. At least the rest of her Blood shielded her from the prying eyes of their guests. Sick, so sick, she couldn’t bear the thought of it.
“Shannari?” Varne tried to approach, but her Blood refused to let him near. “Are you well? Do you have a shaman?”
Her Blood never refused access to Father Josef, but the priest didn’t put his hands on her. He knew, at least enough to pale his clammy face.
“Is there nothing I can do to help him?” She whispered for his ears only. “Or is he right?”
“I believe transforming to his dragon would heal him, but there’s a great deal of risk involved, Your Majesty. You might be able to draw him back if you’re unwavering in your love.”
“Do you know why he came?” The High Priest nodded, and she didn’t miss his trembling hands. Sharpening her voice, she forced herself to straighten to her full height no matter how much her stomach rolled and Mykal’s bond raged with pain and fury. “And you saw fit to keep silent about such a risk?”
“Our Lady’s will,” Father Josef began, struggling to find the words. “Only you could decide. It was your choice, Your Majesty. Knowing the question in advance could have skewed your decision. She didn’t want me to interfere.”
“Is She pleased, then?” The priest flinched at the steel in her voice. “Have I not done Her will by staying alive? Have I not sent my own children as far away from me as possible so they won’t be constantly hunted like I am? Have I not lost two mates in agony and blood, and now, She sees fit to send me another man to love, so She may torture and murder him too?”
Father Josef bowed his head, clasping his trembling hands. “She’s so pleased with Her Last Daughter that She smiles down with love upon you, Your Majesty. You chose well.”
“Was I right?” She softened her voice but couldn’t entirely remove the bitterness. “Did She want…” She didn’t dare say it aloud with so many people hanging about with ears wide open, eager for a bit of gossip.
“You were right.” He bowed even farther, forgetting himself enough to reach out and take her hand, pressing his mouth to her knuckles. “You have accomplished what She wished most of all.”
Shannari felt another wave of nausea crash through her. Too early for pregnancy sickness, but she must already carry Mykal’s child. Son, she corrected. She knew it would be a son, dark in coloring and hair. Dark in soul, too? Or would he carry her light?
Only time would tell, but she would find a way to bring her daughters home to Shanhasson. She would find a way for them to be a family again, and she would raise her children with so much love that they could not ever possibly fall into Shadow, not even a son conceived by one of her greatest enemies.
She concentrated on Dharman’s bond and felt him weaving through the tents at a run, Khul and his warriors on his heels.
They will find Mykal. I will Heal him. He will live. I refuse to consider any other alternative.
For such magic, though, she might need to be close to the Great Seal. She turned to her guests and raised her voice. “I’ve decided to continue the next entertainment in the High Court.”
“Since Mykal tal’Mamba is absent, you will allow me to choose my opponent,” the last tal demanded.
She’d forgotten to enforce rules of hospitality as Mykal had suggested. All sense of politics had flown from her mind as soon as she’d felt his pain and heard his warning. It might be too late to bring the Keldari beneath her will. “Why should I?”
The man blinked and looked to his rav. They were the only two Keldari present. They must know t
hat a single word from her would send soldiers, warriors, and Blood alike surging to kill them.
“As guests…”
“I see no guests,” she interrupted. “You offered me nothing in exchange for hospitality, and so I owe you nothing. No protection, no kinship, nothing. You took food and drink at my table and slept in my shade and offer me nothing at all.”
She drew on her frustration and fear, her fury that someone had harmed Mykal, and the Silver Lake within her began to frost over. Snow and stinging ice blew in her mind.
The Keldari looked at her face and fell to their knees. “Tellan, Your Majesty. My water is yours.”
“You’re too late, tal. I should kill you all. I never should have allowed you to approach Shanhasson. Not if…” Her voice broke, but she refused to shed any tears. Not now.
Mykal will live, she retorted. I can Heal anything if I offer enough blood.
She refused to remember how Gregar had died, her blood trickling down his throat, yet she'd been powerless to keep him from Vulkar's Call.
Sal pressed against her back, his incredible hair slipping over her shoulder, warm and rich with his scent. :We won’t let you harm yourself to save anyone, not one of us, and certainly not this Keldari.:
“Don’t discount me as a challenger, Your Majesty, despite my mistake,” the tal pleaded. “I’ll come to your bed if that’s your wish. I’ll give you blood. I have no such fears as your munakuri who don’t understand the gift.”
“No,” she retorted. “I don’t want your blood. I want—”
Lady help me, I want Mykal to live. I want to have more than one night with him. I want him to see his son grow up and see that love can overcome even the darkest, foulest Shadow.
“Let me Dance the Blades for you, then.”
“Very well,” she sighed. Her head thumped with every beat of her heart, and her stomach pitched as though she might be ill again. She didn’t bother climbing the dais to the High Throne, but motioned Phillip over with the same camp chair she’d used outside the Shining Walls. Carefully, she sat down and leaned back against Sal. Jorah and Lew took the floor before her.
“I ask that you allow me to challenge one of your guards.”
At the frosty look she shot him, the tal planted himself face down on the tile before her chair. “Why should I allow my Blood to fight you?”
“Mykal tal’Mamba has already won your favor,” the tal said in a quick, breathless voice. “Tal’Tellan has already been defeated. If your guard defeats me, the Keldari will return peacefully to our deserts.”
She didn’t need to ask her Blood if they were willing; they were vibrating with eagerness, more than ready to tear into every enemy who threatened her, especially the ones who caused her pain through her newest bond.
“Choose your opponent.”
“By the length of his hair alone, I choose the red-haired guard at your back. He’s surely been the most victorious among your guard.”
Stiffening, she involuntarily clutched Sal’s hand on her shoulder.
:Have you so little faith in me, na’lanna?: For all his purring and playful ways, she knew he could be as lethal as a tiger when he chose. :Do you not trust me to defend your honor against this Keldari?:
:I can’t bear to see you hurt. If I lost you…:
She couldn’t help the tear that slipped down her cheek. The Keldari inhaled sharply and leaned closer, his eyes locked on that tear. His hand stretched out, fingers trembling.
Sal bent his head to hers and in one long swipe of his tongue, licked the tear from her cheek. :I’ll make this Keldari eat his cloak for even daring to think he could touch you.:
* * *
BY THE WEAKENING STRETCH DHARMAN Dharman felt in the bond, her Keldari was nearly dead. She gripped that bond as fiercely as she’d fought any kae’don of her life, but he feared this might be one she lost. He waited until Khul and his warriors surrounded the tent, and then he slipped through the slit. Eyes and ears straining in the darkness, he crouched, rahke in hand. No one shouted with alarm. In fact, he heard nothing but the soft, faint pant of breath and the faintest groan of pain.
Slowly, his eyes adjusted until he made out the form of a man dragging himself across the floor of the tent. He flung out a hand, grasped a handful of leather, and laboriously pulled himself another scant inch toward the entry.
Toward na’lanna Qwen.
Dharman crawled forward. “Mykal, I’m here to help you.”
“Get. Out.” He ground out. “She needs you.”
Ignoring him, Dharman rolled him over and praised Vulkar that there was no light to see the full extent of his injuries. Even in the shadowed confines of the tent, he could see the misshapen form of the man’s lower body. It looked like the man's dragon had taken a hunk out of him. Why it hadn’t killed him…
Of course. She was keeping him alive. Shaken, Dharman gripped the Keldari’s arm and hauled him up. Healing this might very well take every drop of blood in her body.
“Asad,” Mykal gasped, sagging against him. “He’ll chain her. He has the ring I wore as Stephan.”
:Beware the Keldari who arrives shortly.: Dharman listened to her bond, searching through her mind and feeling the other Blood about her. Rage exploded in him. :Where is Sal?:
:He was challenged by the other tal.:
Lightheaded from how much blood she’d already sacrificed, she tried to remain calm and sure, but Dharman felt her concern eating away through the bond. She didn’t like any of her Blood fighting, let alone Sal. The only worse option would have been if Dharman had been challenged, which he thought ludicrous. If one of her Blood fell in hand-to-hand combat, then he did not deserve to be her Blood at all, let alone her First.
She didn’t even care that her two nearest Blood were separated from her, leaving her defenses seriously weakened.
He dragged the Keldari out of the tent, heedless of his injuries. “If she dies because I was out here saving your dragon hide, you’ll wish your rav had dunked your whole body in acid.”
Mykal wheezed out a laugh and stumbled along as fast as he could. Khul took his other arm, and Dharman gave him a grateful nod. The rest of the warriors circled them, ignoring the stares and shouts as they raced back toward Shanhasson.
The ground rumbled beneath his feet. A roar tore through the night that sent him pounding harder, his heart outrunning his feet. “Was that a dragon?”
Mykal stumbled, dragging them all to a halt. Chest heaving, he stared up at the Shining Walls, his face pale and lined with pain. “Iyeh.”
Tail snapping with agitation, the White Dragon paced in Shannari’s bond. The remaining seven Blood all placed their bodies between hers and the new threat. Sal ceased the challenge with the Keldari, his hair a red blur as he dodged a swipe of foot-long talons.
The black beast curled in between the massive columns of the High Court, his neck snaking along the white marble. He roared again and plaster crumbled from the soaring ceiling, sending the outlanders screaming for cover. His tail crashed into a pillar. Cracking, the thick support shifted off its base. If they didn’t end this quickly, the dragon would destroy her entire Palace.
Great Vulkar, how does one fight a dragon as large as a mountain?
Mykal jerked his arms free. “Tell her…”
“You’ll tell her yourself,” Dharman retorted. “She’ll skin me alive if I let you die.”
“I won’t die.” A faint smile curved his lips a moment, but his eyes were grim, dark pools of sorrow. “I’ll distract the dragon and keep him from brightheart, but you must get that ring off his talon and destroy it. Don’t let it anywhere near her.”
“On my honor, nothing will ever chain her for Shadow. How will you fight the dragon?”
Mykal sank heavily to his knees, his face twisting at the pain. “As a dragon, of course. Go. There’s nothing you can do for me now but kill me once Asad’s dragon is dead.”
“Surely—”
“Kill me,” he repeated firmly. “I don�
��t wish to live the rest of my life as a Black Dragon whom she must constantly guard against. I’d rather be dead and remember my one night of heaven in her arms.”
Dharman hesitated, torn between his need to be at her side and regret at leaving this wounded man whom na’lanna Qwen loved behind to die. Mykal’s back arched, his hands scrambled against the ground, bones cracking and bulging oddly beneath the skin.
“Go!”
The dragon burst out of the Keldari, growing and spreading like a black plague. He threw his head back and bellowed an answer to the other Black. Fumes filled the night sky, making the Sha'Kae al'Dan cough and cover their noses and mouths with their arms. With a mighty flap of wings that sent the warriors tumbling to the ground, the big dragon leaped into the air.
“Great Vulkar.” Khul struggled to his feet. “Does Shannari know he can do that?”
“Aye,” Dharman replied wryly. The danger had attracted her from the very beginning. “Let’s hurry or we’ll miss the kae’don entirely.”
They raced back to the Palace, slipping in through the secret entrances that she'd provided to him. Through her bond, he knew the tal and Sal had both engaged Asad’s dragon. The Blood learned how to fight a dragon quickly and managed to duck beneath the swiping claws to slash at the vulnerable underbelly.
However, a rahke was nothing but an annoyance to such a beast, unless they managed to plant a blade in his eye. Even then, Dharman doubted it would be a mortal wound. For once, he wished that she’d continued to carry a sword.
A crash above confirmed that Mykal had landed on the roof. The sound of his claws raking against stone sent shards of ice screeching down Dharman’s spine. He barged into the High Court and her eyes immediately locked onto him. Her hand had bled down her lap and dripped on the floor, and she was pale, her face shiny with sweat. If she were truly pregnant, she shouldn’t be losing such blood.
Shadows flickered behind her. Relieved that Gregar had her back, Dharman turned to assist Sal with the dragon.
Her bond lurched with a sudden surge of fear that sent the hair crawling on his scalp and his heart pounding like stampeding na’kindren. Dharman whirled.
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