Damien ordered Captain Swiftwing to send three men to each of the access tunnels beneath the fortress and the remainder to meet him at the princess’ suite. Even as he whirled to race inside, however, he realized the princess was either asleep or she was no longer in her suite. He could not sense so much as a whisper of her mind talk.
He raced to her suite anyway, searching it quickly before he returned to the corridor and cast about for her scent, for any trace of her mind.
His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he heard the faint, but unmistakable, echo of her screams. Resisting the urge to leap immediately into action, he expanded his dragon senses, searching until he determined her direction. Abruptly, he turned and retraced his steps to the ramparts. Leaping up onto the breast high wall, he dove from it, shifting as he plummeted toward the rocks below.
The princess is taken by the southern service corridor! To arms! To your princess!
His dragon vision and hearing allowed him to see them and hear them long before he was within reach of them. His helplessness was maddening, driving the last vestiges of his civilized self beyond his awareness.
* * * *
Khalia felt herself skidding over a rough, pebbled surface instead of bare ground. Fire erupted from her palms, knees and thigh as the skin was ground away by the abrasive surface. She gasped, feeling the blackness recede slightly. She was still groaning in pain when she was pulled to her feet.
Despite the moonlight, or perhaps because the shock of her attack had severely limited her perceptions, Khalia could see very little. She was grateful for it. The beast that had chased her, she saw, was no more than two yards from where she stood with her captor.
"We should kill her here and be gone," the beast growled from both mouths at once, producing a strange, echo-like sound.
"No. We’ll take her across the border and hide her body there like we agreed."
When Khalia managed to twist around enough to see the creature that held her, she was sorry she hadn’t lost consciousness. She’d thought the beast no more than that, but the one that held her was the same horrible sort of mutation. "We’re wasting time. She might have been heard."
At that, she was lifted free of the ground as the creature holding her stood upright and began to trot briskly away. She hung limply from the arm that encircled her. As painful as the blow had been and the fall afterwards, the jostling hurt far worse. It was a struggle to breathe and her ribs felt as if they might crack from the pressure of his grip and her own weight, but she thought her only chance to escape them might be in convincing them that she was defenseless.
Which, in point of fact, she pretty much was.
The scenario of being accosted by two thugs with the intention of doing away with her was beginning to get old. She’d had some clue, though, of the Chicago thugs’ motives. What motive might these two have?
She couldn’t hazard a guess and she rather thought later would be a better time to wonder. As some of the shock wore off, the pain seemed to intensify, but her reasoning processes also kicked into gear. Remembering the abduction that had landed her here in the first place, she thought it possible shifting might give her an element of surprise. She was stronger and faster when she shifted, but she doubted even that would give her an edge over this pair. The sudden increase in mass might break the creature’s hold on her, though, and if she was free, she might be able to outrun them.
She was struggling to concentrate when she realized it was rapidly growing dark. For a split second, she thought she might be losing consciousness, but she realized in the next moment that the crackling sound in her ears was the sound of wings. She looked up at about the same moment her captors did.
Both let out sounds such as Khalia had never heard in her life and began to run faster. They stopped abruptly as dragons hit the ground all around them. The arm around her middle tightened until she was struggling for air. A great, clawed hand seized her head and Khalia squeezed her eyes shut, expecting any moment to feel her neck snap.
"Release her, now, and I will give you a swift death," Damien Bloodragon growled in the low, rumbling voice of his dragon. "Harm her further and you will beg me for death before I grant it."
Chapter Eight
"You will kill us either way," the creature holding her growled.
"You have touched Princess Khalia. The penalty is death."
"Let us cross the border and we will release her."
"No."
"I could kill her now and die knowing I have defeated you," the creature holding her growled.
Damien moved closer. "You will die knowing that I will track down your mates and your offspring and kill them slowly."
The arm around Khalia loosened fractionally. He lowered her until her feet once more touched the ground. "You will give me your word of honor before I release her that you will not wipe out my line."
"Give me no reason to do so and you have it."
The hand was slowly withdrawn from her head and Khalia breathed a little easier. Abruptly, the creature snatched her off her feet again, lifted her above his head and tossed her as if she were no more than a small child. Khalia gasped a short scream. It was cut off abruptly as Damien caught her midair and pulled her close to his huge, scaly chest, holding her with surprising gentleness.
"Seize them. Find out who sent them," Damien growled above her head.
Khalia turned at the sound of a scuffle behind them, just in time to see the two creatures whip knives from the belts at their waists and slit their own throats. She gaped at them in disbelief and horror, too stunned to look away.
"Olgin’s balls!" Damien roared in fury.
As if the oath had broken a spell, Khalia finally managed to force her gaze from the horrendous sight, burying her face against his chest. Damien’s arms tightened around her.
"Captain Swiftwing … take the men and search the fortress for assassins. When you’ve secured the fortress, see if you can track these two. I want to know everything you can discover about them."
The captain saluted and turned to his men as Damien, with a flap of his great wings, launched himself into the air. Khalia felt her stomach go weightless and reached up to wrap her arms around Damien’s neck. She discovered it was a useless effort. He was many times the size of his human form now.
"I will not drop you, sheashona," he said in a low, rumbling voice.
Khalia shook her head, but she didn’t try to explain that it wasn’t fear but rather a need for comforting that had made her reach for him. She wasn’t even certain of where the impulse had come from … some primal instinct, she supposed, for she had grown to adulthood in an institution. She had never asked for, or been given, the comfort of an embrace purely for reassurance.
She felt weak all over now that the danger had passed. She discovered, once Damien had landed on the ramparts and set her on her feet, that it wasn’t purely her imagination. Her knees wobbled and threatened to buckle the moment Damien released her.
Without a word, he scooped her into his arms once more and headed toward the entrance to the fortress, shifting almost mid-stride from dragon to man once more. Khalia was stunned by the sudden, seemingly effortless, transformation. Even when she concentrated for all she was worth she had difficulty shifting and as often as not failed to do it at all. Compared to others in what she’d considered her own world, she had felt like she had a rare and amazing gift. Here, she thought she was more a freak of nature than anything else. It wasn’t much of a gift when it would neither free her nor save her.
When they reached the suite, Damien settled her on a couch and knelt before her. Hooking a finger under her chin, he pushed her face up and looked it over in frowning concentration. With utmost care, he probed the side of her face and head. Finally, he sat back, sighing gustily. "I can not detect any broken bones. Where else were you injured?"
Khalia shook her head. "Just scrapes and bruises." She was lucky, all things considered and she knew it. From out of no where the urge to burst i
nto tears overwhelmed her. Uttering a choked sob, she threw her arms around his neck, buried her face against it and gave vent to the pain and fear.
Damien stiffened. For several moments, he seemed to debate whether to thrust her away or to simply allow her to do as she pleased. Finally, he lifted a hand and stroked her hair tentatively.
It occurred to Khalia after a few moments, that she was making him excruciatingly uncomfortable. With an effort, she tamped the flow and slowly pulled away from him, searching frantically for a handkerchief.
The suit she’d spent so many hours mending was filthy and ripped once more. That in itself was almost enough to set her off again. Instead, she drew in a deep shuddering breath, tore a piece off to use for a handkerchief and mopped her face and nose.
Damien was staring at her, a troubled look on his face. "What is this?" he asked, touching the tears that still streamed down her face.
Khalia shrugged, sucked her trembling lower lip a moment and finally drew in another calming breath. "I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never cry."
A hint of amusement entered his eyes. "This is cry?"
The comment sent such a wave of surprise through her that Khalia felt the last vestiges of her tears vanish. "You don’t know what crying is," she said, stunned. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how different she was from the beings here. She knew it wasn’t that they felt no emotion, but they undoubtedly expressed it, or released it, differently. Perhaps they had no tear ducts? But then, why was the amulet called the tear if they didn’t even know what tears were?
He shook his head. "I have not seen this before. What is the purpose of it?"
Khalia was suddenly embarrassed. Wrapping her arms around herself, she drew her knees up on the couch, curling into a tight ball. "To express emotions too painful to keep inside; pain, fear, sorrow," she said uncomfortably. "It’s a sort of release."
His brows rose, then descended again. "To help heal wounds?"
Khalia looked at him wryly. Supposedly, they helped to heal wounds to the soul, but somehow she doubted he would understand that. She shrugged.
He took it as a yes. Rising, he looked down at her a long moment. "You must seek your beast to aid your healing. I will prepare a bath for you and then we must talk."
Seek her beast? She realized after a moment that he must be talking about shifting, but she had no idea how that was supposed to help her heal.
The comment about needing to talk sounded ominous, instantly dashing the perk of pleasure his mention of a bath had given her. She nodded, staring at the toes of her boots as he strode away, while she listened to the rush of water into the pool. Finally, she tugged the boots off and tossed them aside, then rose and trudged to the bath. She discovered immediately that her muscles had stiffened while she sat. Walking was painful. She had bruises where she hadn’t even realized she could have bruises.
For the first time, she was actually glad to have Damien assist her in undressing. Every movement caused a new wave of pain and it was a relief not to make the effort.
She saw, with a great deal of relief, that he had filled the pool. She was glad for that, too. No doubt the pelting water would’ve been good on her sore muscles, but she didn’t particularly relish the thought of being pounded by anything harder than a powder puff at the moment. Gratefully, she sank into the hot water and closed her eyes.
She would’ve liked to simply soak until the water cooled, but she knew that at least part of that inclination was a disinclination to face Damien with what she’d done. After a few moments, therefore, she sat up and bathed. Damien was awaiting her with a towel when she stood up at last and she wondered, briefly, if he’d been there the entire time. The carpets, in the living area and scattered over the slippery tiles in the bath, muted the sound of footsteps, so it was possible. She dismissed it as unlikely, however.
He had other things on his mind at the moment. Of course, she was well aware that that probably would not last, even if he wasn’t—yet. Her menses had ceased earlier in the day, and that could only mean she’d begun a new cycle. Soon, he would be aware of that, too, she felt certain.
She shuddered to think what he would make of it.
When she was dressed, he escorted her into the living area once more and indicated the couch. She sat, feeling weak still from her ordeal, from the hot bath, and, truth be told, from the look on his face.
"The assassins did not penetrate the fortress."
Khalia licked her lips nervously. "That depends upon which part you’re talking about," she responded evasively.
"You were in the service area beneath the fortress when you were captured."
Khalia studied him a long moment. "Technically, I wasn’t."
He gave her a look. "Why were you there instead of in your suite where you should have been?"
A spark of resentment flared, but Khalia found she couldn’t maintain it in the face of his anger. "I couldn’t sleep and … uh… I was bored. I decided to explore a bit."
"In that garment you arrived in?"
Khalia sent him a resentful glance. "Why don’t you tell me what I was doing?"
"Trying to get yourself killed. The Regent would have my head if anything had happened to you. He might well demand it anyway, since I failed in my duty to protect you."
Khalia gaped at him. "You’re not serious."
His eyes narrowed. "I am fond of my head. It does not amuse me to consider losing it." He scrubbed a hand over his face, paced for several moments and finally knelt before her. "I realize that you do not understand this world, sheashona, but you must understand that you can not be allowed to return to that other world. I can not allow it. You are my responsibility."
Khalia said nothing. It was almost strange to think she’d known Damien for so short a time, and stranger still that in that short a space of time he had come to mean a great deal to her. Regardless of her feelings for him, however, she refused to relinquish the hope that she could return to the world that was familiar to her. This was a frightening world, filled with even more frightening creatures and so alien to her she found that much of the time disbelief was her strongest emotion. That was no way to live. A person needed comfort at the very least, familiarity, the security of knowing what to expect at least part of the time.
After a moment, he rose stiffly and began to pace once more. "How did you open the security gate?"
Khalia looked up at him in surprise. "Gate?"
His lips tightened. "The gate that secures the lower regions of the fortress from intruders."
Khalia frowned, thinking back. "I’m not sure I did," she said finally.
He paused. "You must have. You were outside when we found you."
"Yes … but … one of them … one of those creatures was behind me. He was already inside. He chased me down the corridor. I couldn’t get the door, the gate, to open, not at first anyway. When it didn’t open, I yelled everything I could think of to get it to open, but I’m not sure it was anything I did or said at all. When it opened, I fell through and the other creature, the one that was holding me when you arrived, grabbed me."
Damien frowned. "On your honor, this is the truth?" he asked slowly.
Khalia looked at him in surprise. "Why would I lie about that?"
"Because you think to use it again?" he suggested dryly.
Khalia gave him a look, then pursed her lips and crossed her arms, refusing to be drawn into a discussion on the fine points of acceptable lies and non-acceptable lies.
After a moment, Damien began to pace once more. "If you did not open the gate, then they were given the code by someone high in your council. Only those with the highest of positions would have the code. We have a traitor among us."
Khalia simply stared at him in disbelief. "Wait a minute!" she demanded, outraged. "You’re saying those … those things were sent here to kill me?"
"The Chymeria are assassins by trade," he said grimly. "They owe loyalty to no one, but neither do they kill un
less it is for profit."
Khalia gaped at him. "But … they were talking about disposing of my body across the border. You mean to say they’re not enemies of the … of Atar?"
"This fortress lies upon the border of Baklen. They are dragon folk, enemies of Atar, but they are desert people. Beyond an occasional raid, they have little interest in us … none in politics.
"The desert is growing, however, and they either refuse to honor the original boundary, or they truly can not tell the difference, or they simply do not care and consider all desert theirs.
"Regardless, they would not have sent assassins. They might well have decided to capture you for ransom, but they would have seen no benefit in slaying you. Someone else was behind this, someone who expected the incident to erupt into a border war and cover their tracks."
Now she was an incident?
"Perhaps this explains why I have had no word from the Regent or his advisors since I sent word that we were here. I’d expected a regiment, at least, to arrive to escort you, and your household attendants. I do not think it is safe to take you to Caracaren, Princess, until we have uncovered the traitor—or traitors."
"You don’t think, maybe, it would be better all the way around just to take me back to the portal and send me back? I mean, if it’s going to start a war—my being here—wouldn’t it be better for everybody?" Khalia said a little hopefully.
His lips thinned. "You are hereditary ruler, Princess. I do not feel that it is better, for anyone, to leave the realm in the hands of your uncle. He is not an evil man, but he is weak, swayed easily by any who would try to influence him, always yielding to his advisors, and the end result is the same. Your people need you. You can not abandon them."
It seemed useless to try to point out that she probably wouldn’t be able to do any better. She knew absolutely nothing about this world, these people, or their needs. She knew nothing about governing. Beyond that, she didn’t feel like royalty, whatever he seemed to think about it.
"We’re going to stay here then?" she said, trying to keep the hopeful note out of her voice. Not that she relished the thought of another encounter such as she’d had tonight, but she didn’t like the idea of traveling too far from the portal. Whatever Damien thought, she fully intended to hie herself back to Chicago at the first opportunity. Thugs aside, it seemed a safer place to be than Atar.
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