Vengeance Born (The Light Blade #1)
Page 1
“Who are you?”
“My name is Annika.”
In the flickering torchlight, long, thick, honey-colored hair fell to her waist, a veil over her face and shoulders, shielding her from his gaze as she knelt to one side of him. A pale, flowing dress clothed her slender form, but she was all woman: rounded breasts, a narrow waist, and curved hips. She was everything he’d imagined a Handmaiden of the Lady to be.
Delicate, graceful hands untied a pouch and removed several jars and pots. They gave no clue as to the identity of the woman, but the clean, fresh scent of herbs and oils told him she was a healer.
“You waste your time.” The Light Blade warrior’s voice was hoarse. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “I thank you for your concern but there’s little you can do for me that won’t be undone by ’morrow-eve. Save your salves and potions for another who would benefit from them more.”
The woman raised her head, a gentle smile curving her lips. All pleasure fled as his gaze met hers.
Lady’s Breath, she had demon eyes…
VENGEANCE
BORN
KYLIE GRIFFIN
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2012 by Kylie Griffin.
Cover illustration by Gene Mollica.
Cover design by Lesley Worrell.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
BERKLEY SENSATION® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / February 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Griffin, Kylie.
Vengeance born / Kylie Griffin.—Berkley Sensation trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
EISBN: 9781101560204
I. Title.
PS3607.R54836V46 2012
813.6—dc22
2011040958
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Mum, Dad, and Michelle,
you put up with my obsession for all things paranormal
and supported me as I pursued my passion and dreams.
I love you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my editor, Leis Pederson, whose belief in this story changed my life. To my agent, Elaine Spencer, for your enthusiasm for my work, patience, and sharing of knowledge.
To Mrs. Wendy Jackson and Miss Julie Simmington, two wonderful high school English teachers, who encouraged a novice writer to pursue her passion.
To Robyn and Darryl, Michelle, Dee, Gracie, and Jem, and the local post office staff—for making sure I remembered to eat, for all the visits/emails and long phone calls, and for not hiding behind the shop counter when you saw me coming with yet another load of manuscripts.
To the BILDers—my support group, shoulder to cry on, cheerleaders, wielders of ugly-sticks, and sisters in madcap mayhem. What an amazing group of writers!
To Valerie Parv, incredible mentor, wonderfully generous lady, and fountain of knowledge—your prediction came true!
To three amazing writing organizations—Romance Writers of Australia, Romance Writers of New Zealand, Romance Writers of America: You’ve given me knowledge, professional support, and lifelong friendships.
And last, but not least, to all contest judges and readers, thank you for your feedback and encouragement. I listened, I learned, and you helped me achieve my dream.
You have all encouraged, guided, and pushed me to reach this milestone. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 1
ANNIKA hated visiting the dungeons. The dank cells reeked of pain and fear as well as blood. Anyone unfortunate enough to be imprisoned here risked dying of exposure if the torture inflicted by the Na’Reish guards didn’t claim them first.
“This had better be worth it, Hesia,” she muttered and tugged the skirts of her dress away from slime-covered walls.
The furious squeaking she heard coming from a shadowed corner made her glad she was wearing her knee-high boots. Bare feet—or any naked skin, for that matter—were fair game to the scurriers scavenging down here. She’d treated many prisoners for bites and wounds caused by the vicious little carnivores. A draft of air brought with it the stench of unwashed bodies, which almost overpowered her. She coughed and lifted a sleeve to cover her nose.
“You know none of the others will come down here.” The old healer’s tone held censure for her surliness.
If Annika were honest, the physical conditions of the dungeon weren’t the real reason for her reluctance. It was the mumbling voices of prisoners: some babbled, driven mad by circumstance, some cried piteously, others wailed in despair. The sound of their helplessness was heartbreaking and she could do little but try to ease their pain.
Hesia shot her an arch look. “’Sides, you’re the only one the demons will let into the Pit.”
Her face heated. Her half-blood sta
tus was a boon and a curse. While even the lowest caste of the Na’Reish outranked her, their fear of her father was the only thing stopping the guards from refusing her access.
“Who’s imprisoned there now?” she asked.
“Rumor has it that Na’Hord scouts captured a warrior during a slave raid in the Outer Provinces.” A thread of excitement colored the old woman’s voice. “He refuses even to give his name.”
Hope fired deep inside her and she glanced sharply at Hesia. “A Light Blade?”
“Yes.”
Annika bit her lip as hope surged from deep within her. Lady’s Blessing, this could be the opportunity she’d been waiting for, the chance to escape.
Hesia’s wrinkled face peered up at her, her blue eyes somber. “He was the only survivor. You know what the Na’Hord do with any warriors they capture.”
Annika clenched her fists, empathy quickly replacing her hope. As a child she’d been forced to watch the Na’Hord kill human warriors many, many times. Her heart went out to the survivor.
Hesia’s steps slowed then faltered as they neared the Pit. She turned and gripped her forearm with gnarled fingers. “Be careful, Annika, Na’Reisha Tal is on duty.”
Despite the flash of anger that warmed her cheeks, the warning sent a shiver of fear along her spine. “I thought that lower-caste scum had been relieved,” she whispered.
The last time she’d treated prisoners in the dungeon, he’d locked her in a cell without Hesia, then told the prisoners who she was. If it hadn’t been for another guard interceding she’d have suffered far worse than a few bruises and a head wound.
“Your father’s inspecting a new wagonload of female slaves that arrived this morning.” Hesia kept her voice quiet. “You know once his attention is diverted elsewhere, things go back to the way they were.”
Glancing ahead, Annika saw Tal’s burly form and another guarding the top of the stairway leading down into the Pit. The small cobblestoned chamber reminded her of a sunken arena. The demons tortured slaves or prisoners within it while others watched from the raised ledge above.
“Tal suffered the brunt of your father’s displeasure for his error.” Hesia gripped her arm tighter. “He’s looking for any excuse to exact revenge.”
Standing nearly seven feet in height, Tal was an imposing figure: all muscle and brawn, renowned among the Na’Reish for his great physical strength, but the full suit of leather armor tempered his physical dominance. Slave prisoners just weren’t dangerous enough to warrant such caution but a Light Blade warrior possessed the kinetic power to kill through any weapon, the skill a Gift from the Lady, their human deity. Having faced such warriors in battle before, Tal’s precaution was warranted.
Had the prisoner made an attempt on his life? The idea brought a small smile to Annika’s lips. She hoped the Light Blade had given the Na’Reisha a lot of trouble.
Tal turned at the sound of their footsteps, his violet eyes glowing in the ambient light of the smoking braziers. His gaze met hers, his narrow-eyed stare colder than the icy prison. Annika schooled herself not to react, not to hesitate in her stride, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing she feared him. It was bad enough he thought her existence an abomination without inflaming his need to dominate by appearing weak.
The shadows darkened the spotted pattern of demon markings running down the sides of his face. No matter how many times she’d listened to Na’Reish females of all castes whisper behind their hands about how handsome his markings were, to her, and in this light, they compounded his ruthlessness.
The smile he gave her revealed pointed teeth sharp enough to puncture human skin. Hers crawled at the thought of him touching her—not that he’d be attracted to one such as her, thank the Lady. There were few benefits to being a half-breed, but this was surely one of them.
“What do you want, Na’Chi?” His usual derogatory drawl accompanied the name.
“I’m here to heal the prisoner, my lord.”
“You waste precious resources on this human. He lives only until he tells us who he is and about the leader of his people. Another session spent under my lash should see to that.”
His attitude made Annika even more determined. The human warrior represented the chance of a new life free from her father and other tormentors, if she could help him escape. “Has he been condemned to death?”
The other guard shifted from one foot to the other, his boots scraping on the stone floor. “There’s been no such order given.”
“If he dies without revealing that information, our leader, Na’Rei Savyr, will want to know who refused the human access to a healer. You must allow me to treat him.”
The leather of Tal’s gloves creaked as he curled his hands into fists. “You don’t give the orders down here.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I do.” His violet eyes flashed and darkened. “Do you want to find yourself in a cell again? Alone with humans? You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”
She shuddered, the memory too near, too fresh to control her reaction. Tal’s lips curled. She wished she could control her reactions more successfully, hating that he took pleasure in provoking her fear.
Swallowing hard, she met his gaze. “You’d risk the wrath of my father a second time?”
Tal’s eyelid flickered. He gripped her upper arm in a hold so tight she knew her skin would yield bruises by morning. She held still, unwilling to give him further reason to hurt her.
“The blood in your veins barely gives you the right to breathe! Why the Na’Rei continues to let you live is a mystery,” he hissed. “The entertainment value of watching you cower and suffer under his belt must provide him with more amusement than it would me.”
He released her suddenly, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her a second longer, and she stumbled back toward Hesia. The elderly woman caught her before she fell.
“One day the Na’Rei will die and the leadership will pass to someone who believes purity of the bloodlines should take precedence over petty revenge.” He stabbed a gloved finger at her. “You’d do well to remember that, Na’Chi.”
Annika dropped her gaze. Pushing Tal too far would destroy her chances of meeting the human warrior who might be able to save her from that fate. Showing him submission grated, but if it meant he’d give her permission to enter the Pit she’d do it.
“Tal, let her treat the human with her herbal remedies.” The second guard wore an uneasy frown. “I don’t fancy being the scapegoat of the Na’Rei if the Light Blade dies while under your command. Besides, if she enters the Pit to heal him, who says he won’t try to kill her? He’s tried often enough with us.”
After several tense heartbeats, Tal grunted then began to chuckle. The sound wasn’t pleasant. He motioned toward the Pit. “You have half an hour, Na’Chi.”
With a soft sigh of relief, Annika descended the steps and glanced toward the center of the Pit, eager to see the prisoner. She winced at the silent pain the human male was surely forced to endure as a part of his captivity.
Chains suspended from the ceiling spread his arms wide, while more shackled him to the floor in a kneeling position. There was no leeway to sit or stand; the chains pulling at his arms were taut. Raw, chafe marks encircled his wrists, undeniable signs of a struggle to escape torment.
She murmured a soft entreaty to the Lady for help. Her whisper must have carried, for the male lifted his head, his long, jet-black hair parting to reveal a battered face. Her breath caught.
Lady of Mercy, she had not expected him to be so comely.
The bruises, cuts, and dried blood did little to hide an attractive face. Strong, fierce, captivating, yet his eyes commanded most of her attention. They were an intense, dark green that almost seemed to glow, bright with intelligence and power. His gaze reached deep into her, sparking an unfamiliar excitement that made her stomach flutter. A feeling so alien to her she almost forgot why she was there.
“I never expected him to be so handsome.�
� Hesia’s hushed comment turned her head. The old healer stood close behind her.
“Handsome? If he had the markings, he’d pass as one of the Na’Reish.”
Did he possess the same arrogance and air of superiority the lordlings exhibited, the same traits that she despised because of their belief that it gave them the right to flaunt it over others?
The older woman raised an eyebrow. “You do realize the upper-caste lords would be insulted to be compared to a human? But I wholeheartedly agree with you.” Hesia’s comment steered Annika’s thoughts in an entirely new direction. Annika blushed as her friend chuckled. “What? I may be old but I’m not blind.”
“We’re here to heal him. Not stare at him.”
“Then go heal him.”
The Lady of Light has finally granted me a peaceful death, Kalan Tayn thought. He wasn’t afraid but he’d expected to die at the end of some demon’s sword in battle, a death more honorable than having his life cut short in the depths of a dungeon.
He listened to the Handmaiden speaking nearby. Closing his eyes, he shut out the less-than-ideal surroundings and concentrated on her voice. It was soft, sensual, well suited for the task of easing a man into the Light. It wound its way deep inside him, touching his soul, fortifying the ragged remnants of his strength. He recognized the Lady’s power emanating from her; warm, gentle, and soothing. Her touch would ease the abuse his body had suffered in the last sennight.
He parted battered lips and sighed in relief. “Handmaiden, the Lady is truly merciful. I welcome your guidance as I pass over.”
His one regret was leaving his sister, Kymora, the unenviable task of taking up his position on the Blade Council. His death would bring chaos at a time they could least afford turmoil; there were too few Light Blade warriors left to defend their territory from the growing demon horde.
“What?” The second voice was older. “What’s he saying?”
Lighthearted laughter teased his ears. “You’re mistaken, warrior. You don’t stand at death’s door.” The alluring voice whispered to another. “He thinks we’re Handmaidens from the Lady.”