The Given
***
Sharron McClellan

She was his Given, and because of his pride, he’d failed 
to protect her… 
Talon stood and walked over to the hearth to let the 
Healer have the room she requested. 
“Be patient, my brother,” Lore said. “The Healer is well 
trained, and Aria is stronger than you think.” 
Talon tried to take comfort from the words, but failed. 
“I should have been here.” 
“Then what? Could you take on an entire Reaper 
army?” 
“No, of course not.” Talon’s rising voice was subdued 
with a scathing look from the Healer. “But I could have 
saved her from this tragedy. I could have kept her safe,” 
he finished with a whisper. 
“This is odd.” Both men turned at the Healer’s 
comment. Still partially covered, Aria lay in exhausted sleep 
as the Healer tended her. 
Talon strode over to the bed, fear racing through him. 
“What is it? What is wrong?” 
The Healer continued to clean the blood from Aria’s 
body. “Other than some scrapes, she does not have any 
serious wounds. I did not find any earlier but thought it 
due to the speed of my exam.” 
“Where did all the blood come from? Is it not hers?” 
Glancing at the soiled sheets on the floor, he feared the 
answer. 
The Healer did not reply but continued washing, 
silently assessing her patient. Dipping the rag into the 
now red water, she pulled the blanket aside and began 
washing the blood from Aria’s thighs. Talon did not turn 
away, dreading what the Healer might say but needing to 
know. 
Finally, she stopped, placed the rag back in the bowl 
and left it. Standing, she covered Aria with Talon’s cloak. 
“Well?” Talon asked. 
“It is hers.” 
His instincts for revenge and protection rising to the 
surface, Talon bristled. A question weighed heavy on his 
lips but had to be asked. “Was she violated?” 
“No.” The Healer’s smile was a mixture of both sorrow 
and relief. “She bore a child.” 

To my critique partners:
Alexis, Amy, Cathy, Gina, & Nikki.
You made me a better writer.
To Gary, Glennis, Patrick, & Heather—Love You!
To my parents, who always believed in me.
And to my editor, Linda,
for giving a new author a chance.
Thank you.
Other Books by Sharron McClellan
THE SEEKER
(Coming in 2004)

The Given
***
Sharron McClellan 



One 
The immense boat plowed through the water, bringing 
the men who would change the Maidens from virgins to 
women. 
Aria knelt on the beach, waiting. Her head bent and 
her hands folded across her chest, she tried to focus on 
the upcoming ceremony—the physical ritual that would 
change her life as well as her body. 
Would it hurt? She trembled, and her thighs weakened, 
threatening to crumple her to the sand. 
“Focus.” Her whispered command was inaudible above 
the ocean’s waves. “Focus your mind before you are 
thought a fool.” 
With a firm mental shove, she set her fear aside and 
concentrated on her surroundings, looking for comfort or 
distraction. Diversion came in the form of a scarlet curl. A 
lock of hair dangled in front of her face, blown free from 
the pins that bound its companions in the traditional 
upswept style. Gently, she tossed her head, hoping to move 
it to a less obtrusive area. 
Another loosened to join it. 
The oars of the boat sounded like thunder as the men 
approached in the dimming light. Aria did not need to 
look up to know the two moons, the dark Grey Warrior 
and the Silver Maiden, rose in the sky behind her. Only 
once a season did the spheres rise side by side and make 
their way across the sky. 
It was why they gathered tonight, the Warriors and 
the Maidens. 
The wooden vessel rushed onto the sand, plowing to a 
stop and scattering everything in its path. Her breath 
caught, and the blood raced through her veins. Tonight 
she would cross the barrier from maid to woman, and in 
the morning, she would take her new position as an 
Apprentice to the Elders. She glanced up through her 
eyelashes just in time to see the Givers—Warrior priests 
who rarely left their Keep—walk down a wooden ramp 
and off the boat. None spoke as they lined up along the 
sands, their black cloaks billowing in the breeze as the 
cool light of the moons washed over them. They bowed 

their heads in homage to the Maidens. Their right hands 
rested on their sword hilts. 
She was not ready. The urge to flee rose on a wave, 
threatening to overwhelm her, but thoughts of the Elders 
kept her in check. They had given her a home, 
companionship, and a purpose. She could not disappoint 
them now. Steeling her resolve, she vowed to do what was 
necessary. She would hold fast to her promises. Lowering 
her gaze, she waited. 
Which Giver would take her on the journey? She had 
heard stories. Some women described it as an invasion— 
an act to be endured. Others said it was wondrous, and 
the physical union of two bodies was akin to Trancing. 
Which was true? Either or both? 
She would know soon enough. 
The choosing began as, one by one, each Maiden on 
the beach entered Trancer consciousness. Delving into the 
mind of her closest sister, she ascertained her needs and 
focused on her desires. What did her sister want in a lover? 
Which Giver was appropriate? Then, answers found, the 
Trancer let the Goddess guide her through the waves of 
Fate until she found the Warrior who met those needs. As 
their final charge, the Trancer called the name of the 
appropriate Giver for all to hear. 
It was a test of skill, ability, and of each Maiden’s 
deservedness to serve as an Apprentice. That was how it 
was done. 
How it had always been done. 
A bead of sweat slid from the base of Aria’s neck to 
the small of her back as her closest friend, Iliana, rose 
and entered Trancer consciousness. Her breath erratic and 
her skin pale, Aria tensed at her friend’s mental touch. 
Iliana was delving her mind, walking through her psyche, 
and finding her true desires. Desires unknown even to 
Aria. 
Instinctively, Aria fought to hide her thoughts, but 
found them pushed wide open as Iliana continued her 
search. 
Then, her mind grew silent. Iliana was gone and 
seeking the Warrior priest who would belong to Aria for 
the night. She called out the name of Aria’s Giver. 
Talon. 

Aria glanced up as his name sounded over the sands, 
but her chosen Warrior did not acknowledge the call. 
Which one was he? They all looked so much alike. Well-
trained fighters, they all bore the muscles and scars that 
came from their favored profession. Most were tall, almost 
frighteningly so. Like the kota trees that grew alone in the 
dunes, they appeared invincible and enduring. As if 
nothing could fell them. 
The still-warm sands shifted as Iliana sank down, 
spent from the necessary mind trance. 
Aria closed her eyes. Time to prove her ability as a 
Trancer. Letting the outward sounds fade, she cleared her 
mind and forced her thoughts into the gray realm that lay 
between the physical world and the spiritual world of the 
Trancer. As if in a dream, she rose to her feet. Within 
moments, she passed through the colorless void and into 
the netherworld of Iliana’s mind. Thoughts, like currents, 
flowed over Aria. Blues and green. White, as smooth as 
down and brighter than the sun, captured her attention. 
It was not what she sought. 
She turned her search towards desire, and a deep, 
rich red emerged. Like a drop of scented oil, it hung heavy 
with unexpressed passion, naming all Iliana ever wanted 
in a lover. All she ever desired. 
Swiftly, Aria left Iliana’s thoughts and dove into the 
currents of life, flowing over them, through them, and 
embracing their brilliant colors. She called to the Goddess, 
the deity who gave them all breath, to help her in her 
search. The answer came in the form of a claret flame—a 
twin to the red drop that was her friend’s desire. Ah, 
Iliana’s Giver. She touched his mind, but his inborn mental 
shielding allowed only a cursory glance. It was enough. 
She called his name. 
What seemed like moments later, she knelt back in 
the sand, as tired and mentally exhausted as her best 
friend. It was over. Were her words true? Did she even 
speak? As the memory faded, she saw Iliana smile. She 
must have said something. Aria relaxed. Tucking her robe 
under her knees, she forced her labored breathing to slow. 
The High Mother sang, ending the ceremony. The song 
spoke of faith, tradition, and the blessings of the Goddess. 
The Maidens rose, and the Givers walked towards them, 

ready to do their duty. Her legs still shaky, Aria stumbled 
over the hem of her robe. A hand—warm, callused and 
powerfully male—caught her elbow, steadying her. She 
turned her gaze upwards too see her rescuer. He was 
impossibly tall with hair as dark as katah‘ fur. The deep 
strands looked as silky as the predator’s coat. Her fingers 
itched to run through it and take pleasure in its texture 
alone—if she dared to loosen it from the ceremonial cloth 
ties that bound it behind him. 
He smiled, and she knew. It was Talon. Her Giver. 
“Do not look so surprised.” His voice, deep and 
masculine, flowed over her like warmed stroking oils. 
“I am not surprised,” Aria answered truthfully. “I am 
merely pleased you are agreeable to my eye.” 
Talon chuckled. “As you are to mine.” He clasped her 
hand in his. “Let us go to your chamber.” 
“So soon?” Her panic rose despite her intentions and 
Giver’s air of assurance and strength. “You are ready?” 
He chuckled again. “Not so soon. We have all night.” 
All night? What did he have planned? She attempted 
to hide her shock and ignorance by ducking her head and 
pushing her wayward curls back from her brow. 
He stopped her with a gentle hand, his fingers drawing 
the locks forward again. “Leave them. Please.” 
She nodded, unable to speak. 
He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed the palm, 
and then nipped a slender fingertip. 
A low growl emerged from her throat, surprising Aria. 
“See, you are more prepared than you thought. Come, 
show me your room.” 
She pulled her hand away. “A moment, please?” 
Talon gave a single nod and crossed his arms over his 
broad chest, waiting. 
Aria took a deep breath and lowered her gaze. So many 
emotions coursed through her—apprehension, fear, 
excitement and, yes, even desire. She dared a glance at 
Talon. Wide shouldered and proud as he stood waiting 
for her, his stance was fierce. His strength, pride, and 
beauty made her want to pet him, but she knew it would 
cost her. 
Had Iliana chosen true? 
She banished the thought. Of course. He was her Giver. 

Her lack of trust would be most displeasing to the mothers 
and a slap to Iliana. 
She met his eyes. They were dark, like looking in a 
mirror at night. “This way, Talon.” She liked the way his 
name sounded on her lips, and the corners of her mouth 
crept upward. 
Holding her head high, she walked towards the Tower 
with his hand in hers, prepared to make the Elders proud 
and to follow the ceremony that tradition dictated she 
must. 
*** 
He fills the room, Aria thought with awe as Talon 
entered her chamber and closed the door behind him. She 
walked to the fireplace, turning when the tip of his sword 
rapped against a vase of isi flowers, spinning them off a 
low wooden table. With a Warrior’s speed, he caught the 
vase before it hit the floor and placed it back in its original 
position. He shot her a look of sheepish apology and 
cautiously passed by a setting of bread and wine. 
His obvious care showed a thoughtfulness she did not 
expect from a man trained in the art of war. It pleased 
her. 
Still, she trembled as the unknown loomed before her. 
“Are you frightened?” Talon asked, coming up behind 
her as she watched the firelight dance on the stone walls. 
“A little. I have heard stories of what this night will be 
like.” 
His breath caressed the back of her neck, disturbing 
the escaped locks of hair. “All of them true, no doubt.” 
Her skin prickled at the intimacy of the gesture. She 
turned to face him. “True?” 
“Yes, for the person who lived the story, it is always 
true.” He tilted her chin up with a sun-darkened hand. 
“Your experience will be your own. As true for you, as 
theirs was for them.” 
“What will my story be?” Aria asked, curious as to his 
thoughts. Talon’s eyes were kind, and they crinkled when 
he smiled at her. But his imposing size made her wonder 
if he would be as gentle as she would wish. 
He reached around Aria and gathered her into his 
arms. “Whatever you want it to be,” he whispered in her 
ear. Letting his hands glide up her back, he buried his 

fingers in her hair. 
Aria sighed as he massaged her scalp and released 
her hair from the pins, letting it tumble past her shoulders 
and down to her waist. “It is brighter than fire.” He pressed 
the curls to his lips and grazed her skin with his palm. 
He released her hair, and Aria sighed again, but this 
time with disappointment. His touch was pleasurable. 
Intimate. Iliana had chosen well. 
He smiled at her reaction and walked over to pour two 
glasses of wine. Motioning her over to his side, he handed 
her a goblet. 
“Sip,” he commanded, his deep voice soft in its 
demands. 
Aria raised the glass to her lips and let the tart liquid 
flow over her tongue. 
“It will help you relax.” He took a drink from his chalice. 
“I am relaxed,” Aria lied, hoping the firelight hid the 
blush she knew crept up her neck. 
Talon chuckled, and she knew her lie had failed. 
She took another gulp of wine. It burned in her 
stomach. She broke a piece of bread from one of the loaves 
and offered it to him. Talon took the bread, but did not 
eat. Instead, he broke a smaller piece off and pressed it to 
Aria’s lips. “Here. Eat before the wine takes you away.” 
Shyly, Aria opened her mouth and let him feed her 
like a cub. She tasted the salt on his skin as she plucked 
a piece away with her teeth and tongue. Her lips tingled 
at the feel of his hand on her jaw, his fingertips on her 
mouth. 
His scent of musk and leather slid over her skin, 
overwhelming her. Her lids grew heavy. She wanted more 
of his touch. More of this moment. She wanted him. A 
surge of desire rolled from her stomach to the juncture 
between her thighs where it pulsed with an intriguing 
heaviness. 
“Talon.” 
He answered her whispered plea with the taste of more 
bread on her tongue. Bit by bit, he fed her until the bread 
disappeared. Then, he brushed the crumbs away from her 
lips with a callused thumb. She experienced a pang of 
disappointment that there was no more. 
“Now I know you will be present in all respects,” Talon 

murmured. 
Aria nodded as if she knew of what he spoke, but she 
did not. She knew nothing. She knew of the sensations 
but not how to assuage them. Did he feel the same? 
My Goddess, what do I do? She faced the fire, letting 
the warmth of the bright flames soothe her restless spirit. 
She wondered if Iliana felt so impatient, so unsure, so 
alive, and so greedy. Or was it only herself? 
Talon stood behind her, his great size as tangible as if 
he touched her. 
But he did not. He waited. 
For what? For her? Passion rolled through her again, 
urging her to act, to complete that which it wanted. Naiveté 
pleaded caution. “Would you like me to touch you?” she 
asked, wanting to be forward but not sure how. 
Talon turned her around to face him. “If you want to, 
my little one.” 
Little one? “My name is Aria. I may be inexperienced, 
but I am not a child.” 
Talon pulled her close, resting his rough cheek on top 
of her head. “It is an endearment, not an insult, but I will 
do as you wish.” Suddenly, he swept her off the floor and 
into his arms. “Now, do you still want to touch me?” 
“Do you want me to?” Aria wrapped her arms around 
his neck, praying he would not drop her. “Is it proper?” 
Talon shook his head at the comment “How did you 
get to be so innocent? Others are eager when the ritual is 
upon them. Sometimes frighteningly so.” His lips quirked 
into a smile. “Why so innocent, my Aria?” 
She blushed. Her name sounded sensual on his lips. 
Rich as wine. “I have come to the Tower only recently. I do 
not know the ways of which you speak.” 
“Where did you live before?” 
“In the Laini settlement.” 
Talon nodded. “Ah, the mountains. I hear they are 
given to superstition and follow the old ways—the ways 
before the Goddess brought us wisdom and 
understanding.” 
Aria bristled at the comment, but she could not deny 
it. “It is true. When my family found out about my mental 
abilities, they sent me away. They do not suffer Trancers 
to live among them.” 

It surprised her to see compassion in his eyes at her 
comment. 
“So, you never knew about the ways between a man 
and a woman?” 
“As I told you, I have heard stories, but no more than 
that. I want to please you, but I am unsure of what to do. 
Fearful.” 
“Name your fear, and I will conquer it.” 
He would kill fear for her? A smile lit upon her lips. 
“That I will disappoint you and, therefore, disappoint the 
Elders.” 
Talon placed a soft kiss on Aria’s lips. She was so 
sweet. Her eyes were the color of the first leaves, and her 
skin was as soft as the petal of a flower. She was also 
frightened. She shivered at his touch. “You could never 
disappoint me.” 
At his reassurance, her body relaxed in his arms. “Can 
you kiss me back?” he asked. 
“If you would like.” 
“I would. Very much.” He bent his head down again 
and hid a grin as her lips reached for his, answering his 
request. His other Givens had been kissed before, and 
some more than that. But not this one. No, she was untried 
in all ways. 
Their lips met, skimmed each other’s flesh with the 
tenderest of touches. 
Now, he did smile as she pulled away, breathless and 
fearless all at once. She was wonderfully brave, trying to 
appear calm when he knew her body trembled at the 
thought of their upcoming union. 
He touched her lips with his again, gently forcing them 
apart, not giving her time to react in fear. Slowly, he tasted 
her. It was a heady feeling. She tasted like wine and bread. 
Like new honey. Like a Maiden who had never been kissed. 
She stiffened at the gentle intrusion before she melted 
into him. 
Soon, he would melt into her. He hardened at the 
thought, straining against the clothes that confined him. 
“Aria?” He spoke her name against her lips. 
“Umm,” she answered, her eyes lidded. 
“It is time.” 
Her eyes shot open. “Time? I thought we would eat 

first.” She wiggled loose from his arms and ran to the 
table. “See, here is fruit and more bread.” 
He closed the distance between them. “No more food.” 
“How about wine?” 
“Certainly no more wine. I want us both to have our 
wits about us for what is about to happen.” 
“We may get hungry.” 
He sat down in one of the heavy wooden chairs and 
pulled Aria onto his lap. “We shall feast on each other.” 
“We could get thirsty.” 
“I will quench your thirst.” Talon nuzzled her, biting 
the soft spot where slender neck met pale shoulder. 
“But—” 
“But what?” Talon kissed her ear. 
“If you get thirsty it could interrupt your 
concentration.” 
“The only thing interrupting my concentration is you,” 
Talon replied. She shifted abruptly as if wanting to leave, 
and compassion overwhelmed him. She was frightened, 
but tradition gave neither of them a choice. There was 
just one way to alleviate her worries now—push past them 
and continue with the ceremony. “Now, let us see how I 
can interrupt your concentration.” He stood up, taking 
her with him. 
Swiftly, surely, Talon carried Aria over to the bed and 
laid her on top of the silken covers. The firelight flickered 
over her, burnishing her skin. 
“I am afraid,” she whispered. 
“I know, but your fear will leave soon enough. Trust 
me in this.” Unbuckling his sword, he set the scabbard 
aside, unsheathed the blade, and placed it on the bed 
above Aria’s head with its razor-sharp edge facing them. 
Leaning over her, one hand on each side of her body, he 
gazed into her eyes. Neither moved as Talon spoke. “I am 
the Giver. Do you accept what I have to give?” The ancient 
words hung like a heartbeat between them. 
“I am the Given. I accept.” Her quiet voice filled the 
room. 
Talon breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see Aria was 
stronger than her fear. Straddling her, a knee on each 
side of her thighs, he reached down and untied her robe, 
letting the pale cloth fall away from her body. “Open your 

eyes, Aria,” he commanded, his voice husky with promise. 
“See how pleased I am with what you are offering me.” 
Aria peeked through her lashes, and Talon chuckled 
to see her eyes widen further when she saw the evidence 
of his desire, straining against his leather breeches. 
“Now, I will feast.” The hunger in his tone spoke of 
neither bread nor fruit but of Aria. “See, your breasts are 
ripe and waiting for me.” He leaned down to suckle upon 
a pink nipple. 
Aria moaned at the sensations that radiated from 
where Talon kissed her with his lips and teeth. Her 
stomach twisted into a knot, and the area between her 
thighs constricted with each sensual tug. “What are you 
doing?” she managed to ask with a little gasp. 
“I am tasting you. You did worry I would be hungry.” 
He placed a hand under her waist and lifted her closer to 
his mouth. 
Aria whimpered with pleasure as he continued to 
ravish her, captivating her with one sensation after another 
as he made a path from one turgid nipple to the other. It 
was exquisitely uncomfortable, and she wanted more. 
“Magnificent,” he murmured, pulling away from her 
heated flesh. “You are magnificent.” 
Aria’s answer was another little moan, of both pleasure 
and chagrin, as Talon’s free hand pushed her robe off her 
shoulders, pinning her arms by her side and leaving her 
exposed. Warmth made its way from her toes to the top of 
her head, and she knew she blushed. “Are you sure this is 
part of the ritual?” she stammered. 
“Anything I can do to pleasure you is part of the ritual. 
Do you enjoy what I am doing?” 
Aria nodded. “But I feel odd. Hot and nervous all at 
once.” 
Talon chuckled. “Then I am doing it right.” Still 
straddling her, he sat up and pulled his rough shirt over 
his head, throwing it to the floor. Pulling Aria up to him, 
he slid her robe off, freeing her arms and laying bare her 
body, before he lowered her back onto the bed. His broad 
chest shadowed her from the firelight as he slid down her 
body, skin gliding over skin, and laved her bellybutton 
with his tongue. 
Aria bolted upright. “This cannot be right.” 

Talon glided back up her body, now damp with heat 
and his tender ministrations, and kissed her, urging her 
back, “Does it feel good? Does it feel right?” His hands 
stroked her from shoulder to waist. 
She pressed against him, her body urging her to finish 
what her mind doubted. “Umm, yes, but I have never heard 
the others discussing such matters.” 
Talon’s brow furrowed at the comment. “Forget what 
the others have said. The Given ceremony is different for 
everyone. I will not hurt you, and nothing we do is wrong 
as long as it is pleasurable.” 
Aria wanted to believe him. She brushed a single strand 
of hair away from his face and saw something unexpected, 
concern and caring. Did he care that she enjoy this 
experience? It was not a prerequisite that she did. Only 
that she get through it and begin her new life as a woman 
within the group. Some enjoyed the ritual. Others simply 
endured it. It did not make a difference when the results 
were the same. 
She saw it mattered to her Giver. Anxiety lifted like a 
weight from her heart. She took his hand in hers and 
kissed the palm, noting its scars from previous Given 
ceremonies. “I am ready.” 
He nibbled on her neck. “No, not yet, but you will be.” 
His hands, experienced in pleasure, roved over her body, 
learning every inch. His mouth followed not far behind, 
tasting and licking and nibbling, until Aria found herself 
begging Talon to finish what he had started. Her skin was 
as sensitive as the air before a storm, and her insides 
were wound tight. She was sure she was dying, and only 
Talon kept her from crossing over to the other side. 
“Now you are ready,” he whispered. Moving to stand 
at the end of the bed, he pushed his leather breeches down 
his legs and to the floor, kicking them aside. When he 
straightened, Aria’s eyes widened at the sight of his 
erection pressed hard against his abdomen. Coming back 
to bed, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee and 
settled against her. He stared into her eyes. “I am the 
Giver. Do you accept what I give to you, freely and with no 
reservations?” 
Aria nodded, frantic that Talon do something, 
anything, to make her complete—even if it meant causing 

her pain. “I am the Given. I accept with no reservations 
and more than freely. I am begging you to give to me what 
you must.” Her nails dug into his back as he reached down 
with one hand and placed himself at her entrance. She 
glanced downward. “Will it hurt? You are so…” She 
hesitated, unwilling to offend her lover. “…large.” 
Talon smiled, his teeth white in the dimming firelight. 
“You will feel a pressure, but no pain. Then, once you are 
used to me, you will feel pleasure. I promise you.” 
She nodded acceptance. 
Talon gritted his teeth and pushed against Aria, the 
thin membrane that proclaimed her Maiden’s status 
blocking his path. 
He pushed harder, and she squeezed her eyes shut. 
Her breath came in little pants. “Do I hurt you?” he asked. 
His promise to cause her no harm pained him, but he 
meant to keep his word. He was ready to die from lack of 
fulfillment, but if she were not ready then he would 
withdraw and continue to prepare her. 
“No,” Aria replied with truth in her voice. “Just 
pressure, as you promised. It is the anticipation that makes 
me tremble.” 
“Then let’s end the wait, for both of us.” He kissed her 
forehead. “Open your eyes, Aria. I want to see your soul 
when the change occurs. I want to see you change from 
maiden to woman.” 
Aria opened her eyes. 
Talon kissed her brow again. “No pain. I promise.” 
She leaned up and kissed his mouth. “I trust you.” 
“I will guard that trust.” Reaching down between them 
with one hand, he found the button of flesh he knew would 
bring her ecstasy. Slowly, firmly, he stroked it with his 
thumb. 
“Talon,” Aria cried. “What is happening?” 
She bucked against him and cried out. Her eyes locked 
with his, caught up in passion. Her slim legs wrapped 
around his hips. 
“Aria,” Talon cried hoarsely. Reaching for the Warriors’ 
blade that rested on the bed above them, he gripped it, 
letting the razor edge slice his palms open. Blood for blood, 
as he simultaneously broke through the barrier that hid 
his Given’s depths. 

Aria’s cries sounded, and convulsions gripped his 
member as he slowly pressed his full length into her. He 
let go of his blade, the burning wounds in his palms 
keeping him focused. Gritting his teeth, he pulled away 
before he let himself sink back into her. He continued the 
rhythm, holding his own pleasure at bay until Aria’s cries 
became wilder, and she tightened around him again. He 
watched her, loving her eagerness, her lack of guile. 
She arched her back, and he knew she was oblivious 
to anything but the pleasure that coursed through her 
body. Passion and innocence in one woman, she was 
everything he wanted but had never had until now. 
Her fingernails raked his sides. It was time for his 
suffering to end. In a maelstrom of light and pleasure, he 
spilled himself into her with a cry, hearing his Given call 
his name as she reached her release. 
Carefully, he settled his weight onto Aria as she still 
convulsed around him. Her cries grew breathy and weaker 
until she gave a great sigh, and her body went limp. 
Holding her to his chest, he rolled over onto his side, taking 
her with him. 
Unwinding the strips of cloth that bound his hair, he 
coiled them around his hands before he pulled her closer. 
His dark hair fell over his shoulder to mingle with her red 
curls. His chest tightened as she snuggled against him, 
and the desire to protect her crashed over him. He stroked 
her hair, comforting and protecting her, cherishing his 
Given with every murmur, as she fell asleep in his arms. 
*** 
Aria woke to find the morning light streaming through 
the windows and her back pressed against Talon’s chest. 
She wiggled with pleasure, enjoying the warmth of his 
body. He rewarded her with a sleepy murmur as his well-
muscled arm pulled her closer. 
She brought his hand to her lips for a kiss. Uncurling 
his fingers, she unwound the cloth from his hands and 
traced the hairline cut he had received during the ritual. 
The ritual. Now she knew of the pleasure that could 
occur between a man and a woman. Languidly, she 
stretched, mentally scoffing at the previous dreams and 
fears her Giver had put to rest. 
She turned over and gazed at Talon. He was as 

impressive in the morning as he had been in the deep of 
night’s passion. She reached out and traced a scar that 
ran from the corner of his eye to below his jaw. She had 
not noticed it yesterday. Today, it showed white against 
his tan skin. A Warriors’ mark. Later, she would ask him 
to tell her the story of the battle, but for now, she wanted 
to indulge. Feeling coy, she kissed him. His lips were warm 
upon hers. “Wake up,” she murmured. 
He replied with a grumpy, “No.” 
She pressed her lips against his again, prolonging the 
moment until he awakened and returned the kiss. He 
tasted like wine and musk. Like sex and love. Hard and 
ready, he pressed against her stomach. 
“Aria.” Her name was husky on his lips, a plea for her 
to welcome him into her body. 
She answered by throwing her leg over his and guiding 
him into her welcoming depths. 
Her breath hissed from between her lips as he filled 
her. “Talon, please,” she begged. “I am eager for you.” 
The only reply was a low chuckle as he supported the 
small of her back with his hand and rocked against her. 
Aria thought she would die as Talon sensuously 
assaulted her body. Her heart raced, and her soul flew as 
passion devoured her like a wild animal took its prey. 
Would it never end? Her thoughts expanded, and the forces 
of Trancing began building inside her with each stroke. 
Each breath, each touch, assailed her thoughts. Pressure 
in her mind, as well as her body, clamored for release. 
Like a dam collapsing with the weight of the water 
behind it, her passion shattered both her mind shield and 
Talon’s. Their thoughts meshed, and Aria clung to him as 
his sensations overwhelmed her. 
Shock. Shock and alarm at her intrusion. Talon’s split-
second of fear raced through Aria, and she felt her heart 
would stop. 
It did not. Instead, Talon’s shock changed. 
Transformed to interest and a burning curiosity of the 
forbidden. A desire to know more. To know her. 
It was all the encouragement Aria needed, and she 
flowed into him, past thoughts and past reality, until she 
was so deep inside him that she lost herself. 
A flash of blades. His first kiss. Searing pain. Honor 

duty, shame, and laughter. It was all there, a lifetime of 
experience and emotion, overpowering her and filling her. 
She took it in like a starving child takes a loaf of bread. 
She lived his wants, desires, and needs. 
And he lived hers. He felt the pain when her family 
abandoned her. He tasted her fear of her gift, heard her 
cries when she wept alone at night. He felt it all, lived it, 
and with a Warrior’s strength, bound her emotional 
wounds with his soul. 
He healed her and was healed. 
For a brief moment, a heartbeat in an infinite number 
of heartbeats, they were the same. There was no beginning 
and there was no end as they joined and release took them, 
binding their souls. 
It was less than paradise and more than life, and Aria 
knew neither of them would ever be the same. 
Then, the emotional bond slipped, dissolving like 
smoke in the wind. 
Talon rolled away, physically separating himself from 
Aria, but not before she felt one last emotion. 
Shame. 
Talon felt shame and dishonor for what they had done. 
She wanted to cry. She did not. She could not, because 
there was no shame in her heart. What had happened 
was right. She felt it in her bones. 
The morning shadows moved across the floor, as they 
lay apart, absorbing what happened. 
“What should we do now?” Talon raised himself up on 
his elbows, his squared jaw rigid with barely restrained 
anger. Aria knew it was not directed at her, but at himself. 
She shook her head. “I am not sure. I have heard of a 
true joining spoken of only in whispers. I have never heard 
of it happening.” 
Trancers were not supposed to delve into their lover’s 
psyche, and an experienced Trancer would not have done 
so, even inadvertently. But she was inexperienced. She 
was a novice, and that was why the Elders chose the 
Warriors to serve as Givers. A Warrior’s mental shielding 
was inborn and kept out Trancers or anyone who would 
know their thoughts. 
Yet, somehow, she had managed to break through 
Talon’s shield. 

And he had let her. 
“We must forget we joined.” Talon sat up, his head in 
his hands. “We must pretend it never happened.” 
Aria took a deep breath. “It is too late,” she whispered. 
Honor demanded that she show him the proof. Rising to 
her knees next to him, she raised her eyes to his and 
watched for his reaction. 
It was immediate. “Your eyes. What happened to your 
eyes?” 
“Have you heard the stories?” 
“Of course, but they are stories.” 
“No, they are true.” She did not need a mirror to see 
that her once pale green eyes had darkened and were now 
the color of the heart of the forest. “If a Trancer binds her 
soul with another, her eyes go through the change, 
reflecting the depth of the union. Green becomes deep 
forest and blue becomes night.” 
Talon touched her cheek, tracing it with a fingertip. 
His look spoke of disbelief. “If we are truly bound, if I have 
a piece of your soul, do you have a piece of mine?” 
“Yes.” 
He withdrew his hand, and she saw the impact of her 
words strike home as his eyes clouded with wariness. “Do 
you know everything about me? Where I came from? Who 
I am?” 
“No, only images, pieces really, of your life,” she said, 
knowing any explanation would be awkward and unclear 
but also knowing she had to try. “Mostly, I felt you as you 
did me. Your emotions. The things—” She hesitated, 
struggling to make herself clear. “The places in your soul 
that make you a good man.” 
Her heart fell at seeing his eyes cloud further. 
“You had no right. Could you not stop this binding?” 
“Not once started.” Aria bit her lower lip at the anger 
in his accusation. “It was not my intention to join with 
you, but it is done.” 
“Perhaps, but how can I accept it?” Swinging his legs 
over the edge of the bed, he bent to retrieve his clothes. 
Standing, he turned his back to her and dressed in silence. 
“Talon?” 
“Yes.” He yanked his tunic over his head. 
“I did not ask your acceptance. I ask for forgiveness.” 

She fought to keep her voice from breaking. 
“I am not angry with you. I am angry with myself for 
my own lack of strength. I should have stopped you, but I 
did not.” He faced her, his eyes bright with pain. “I 
welcomed you. I faltered in my duty.” 
Aria flinched at the cruel judgment he passed upon 
himself. “No. I refuse to believe there is fault in this, Talon. 
How can I when I carry you here?” She laid a hand on her 
breast. “To say there is fault is like cutting out a piece of 
my heart.” 
“You are young, and youth can be foolish. The bond 
you feel blinds you to the truth.” 
“And what truth is that? That we are not join—” 
Talon stopped her speech with a gentle finger against 
her lips. “I am a Warrior and live by a different code. On 
my honor, I swore to do you no harm, and I broke that 
vow with my negligence. I abandoned my duty and must 
pay for my actions.” 
Aria wrapped a bed cloth around her body and stood 
up, grasping Talon’s arm with her hands. “It is wrong if 
duty would punish you for my mistakes. Stay here with 
me, and we will speak with the Elders. I am sure they will 
understand and help.” 
“How? A joining cannot be undone. Perhaps they would 
ask the Council to forgive my lapse in judgment?” Talon 
shook his head. “You were in my mind. You know I will 
not forsake my honor to avoid punishment.” 
Aria dropped her hands from his body and turned 
away, not wanting him to see the sorrow in her eyes. She 
listened as he dressed, buckling his sword and pulling on 
his boots. She refused to turn and watch him as he walked 
to the door. 
His footsteps paused. 
“If you truly carry a piece of my soul, you know I will 
broach no more dishonor for either of us.” 
“There is no if. I carry your soul, as you carry mine.” 
His denial was unvoiced, but she thought she heard it 
in her mind. He probably hoped she would forget him, 
forget the joining, but she knew it would never happen. 
She would remember her time with him whenever she 
looked in a mirror and saw her own dark-eyed reflection 
looking back at her. 

“Good-bye.” The door closed behind him, swinging 
shut with a dull thud. 
She refused to cry. If he were strong enough to leave, 
then she would be strong enough to let him go. 
She walked across the room and onto the balcony that 
faced towards the water. Still in disarray from last night, 
her hair fluttered about her shoulders. She clutched the 
bed cloth closer and sat on the stone railing to watch Talon 
as he walked towards the boat where other Warriors 
waited. 
Perhaps he denied his heart, but she would not deny 
hers. If only he had considered staying, she might have 
told him the other reason for her physical change. 
But he had not, and she could not. 
She placed a hand on her flat belly and knew that 
soon it would grow rounded. 
Trancer’s eyes also darkened when new life began. 

Two 
He had not come back. Again. 
From a window high above, Aria watched in silence as 
a group of Warriors departed and wondered if Talon stayed 
away because of her. Three seasons and three Given 
ceremonies had passed since she last saw him. Three 
seasons since she had turned from him in anger and 
misunderstanding. Three seasons since she had watched 
him leave. 
Three seasons of regret. 
Misery rolled over her like a water-laden blanket, and 
the surrounding currents of life shifted to reflect her bleak 
thoughts. Pain and loss dominated the flow, dragging her 
deeper into regret. With a mental ‘oomph,’ she blocked 
her mind. She did not need the currents to remind her 
how foolish she had acted. 
She should have said good-bye. She owed Talon that 
much. They were joined. With a sigh, she turned away 
from the window and the sight of the festivities below and 
pressed her hand against her child-swollen belly. 
The baby kicked. At least she carried a part of Talon 
within and, so, kept a piece of him close. A tiny light to 
fight the dark. She had not lost everything. She had their 
son, Tarik. 
She wondered what Talon would say, what he would 
think, if he knew she carried his son. Would he have 
returned? 
She knew the answer. Despite the Warrior code of never 
knowing their blood, he would have returned. And in doing 
so, given up all that he was and all that he had worked 
for. 
He might forgive her if he did, but he would never 
forgive himself, and she could not permit that. 
Cumbersome with her protruding belly, Aria moved 
over to the wooden table that occupied the middle of the 
room. One hand supporting the small of her back, she 
began sorting through the herbs, scented oils, and candles 
that took up one end. There were many, and all stood in 
wait for use in the birthing of her son. 
“Everything is still there.” 

Startled, Aria turned, her gown swirling around her 
ankles. Iliana stood in the doorway, watching her. 
“I know. I just wanted to make sure.” 
Smiling, Iliana crossed the room, picked up a bottle 
of pale yellow oil, opened the stopper, sniffed it, and then 
pulled away in disgust. “That smells like the stables after 
a long rain. What is it for?” 
“If I lose consciousness during childbirth, this will 
bring me back.” Aria took the bottle from her friend, put 
the stopper back in, and set the vial back down on the 
wooden surface. 
“If only to get away from the stench.” Iliana wrinkled 
her nose again. 
Aria chuckled. She had not realized how much she 
had missed Iliana until just this moment. She embraced 
her. “I am glad you are here.” 
Iliana returned the hold. “I am sorry I have not been 
able to see you more.” Pulling back, she held Aria out at 
arm’s length. “Look how big the babe has grown.” 
Aria turned from side to side. “He is getting bigger, is 
he not?” 
Her friend nodded and drew Aria over to a small couch 
covered with soft pillows. “Come, tell me how your time 
goes. Have you kept busy?” 
Aria sat next to her friend and shrugged. “What can I 
do? The Healer worries about my health. I walk, I eat, and 
I prepare for the babe. She refuses to let me do anything 
else.” 
Iliana reached over and took Aria’s hand in hers. “She 
has cause for concern. You are as pale as parchment and, 
with the exception of the babe, as thin as a reed. If he 
were not as large as a melon, I would not even think you 
carried a child within.” 
Aria flushed. “Do you think I neglect my child?” 
Iliana’s eyes opened wide, and she drew back. “No. I 
think you neglect yourself. I worry that you will waste 
away after the babe is born, if not before.” 
Aria took a deep breath and stopped herself before a 
harsh retort tripped off her tongue. Her anger was not 
with Iliana or the Healer. Her anger was at herself for her 
own physical weakness. 
Her father’s voice echoed through her mind, telling 

her how useless she was. She still felt his hatred and anger 
for her being the eldest and a girl. 
Just the opposite, Iliana’s love shone like a beacon of 
hope, breaking through the painful memories and 
banishing them. How could she doubt her friend’s 
intentions, even for a moment? Iliana offered her friendship 
like a child offers trust—with no strings or conditions. 
It was more than her family had ever offered. 
Aria smoothed her hair with a nervous gesture. “I am 
sorry. I find myself out of sorts and impatient now that 
the babe is so near to birth. Please forgive my impulsive 
words.” 
Iliana waved the apology away with a laugh. “They 
say women who are with child are sometimes 
unreasonable.” 
Aria’s brow rose. “I am glad to see you still possess a 
sense of humor.” 
Iliana’s smile faded. “Since you so rarely find lightness 
anymore, I try to have enough for us both.” 
Aria opened her mouth to reply but found no words. 
Instead, she stood and went back to the table, not wanting 
her friend to see the truth of her perceptions. “Tell me 
how training goes.” Eyes focused downward, she lined the 
glass jars into a neat row. “I hear that being an Apprentice 
is much more demanding than being a Maiden. Is it true?” 
“I take it you do not want to discuss what is bothering 
you?” 
“I cannot,” Aria replied, wishing Iliana would accept 
the change in subject. She moved the bowls of herbs, 
grouping them neatly together. 
“Do you distrust me?” 
Aria shook her head. “No. You are my greatest friend, 
but I fear that if I spoke, you would feel compelled to tell 
the Elders. I cannot put you in such a position. Our 
friendship means too much to me. You mean too much to 
me. I would not risk this.” 
Iliana rose from the couch, joined Aria at the table, 
and began to move the bottles and jars back to their 
original positions. Picking up a box of dried petals she 
sniffed, this time smiling before she put it down. “It gives 
me great joy to hear that our friendship means as much 
to you as it does to me.” 

Aria warmed at the words. 
Iliana continued. “You can tell me anything, and I will 
keep silent. I was raised in the Tower, but my upbringing 
does not make me any less compassionate or 
understanding. It does not make me any less your friend. 
Please, believe me.” 
Aria nodded. “I do believe you.” Her hands moved up 
her arms, holding herself still. “You are as close as my 
sister, but please, for now, let my thoughts be my own. 
Later, when the memories are less painful, I can answer 
all your questions.” 
“I understand.” Iliana’s voice softened, and she 
focused her gaze on the table before her. “I fear your aching 
soul drains your energy, but I will wait until you are ready 
to speak.” 
Looking up, she brightened. “Do you really want to 
hear about my Apprentice training? I can tell you what to 
expect when you join us.” 
“Please,” Aria said, grateful for the change in topic. “I 
am hungry for news.” 
“You heard correctly. It is difficult. We spend much 
time learning to read the nuances of the currents of life.” 
Her hands gestured in the air around her. “The Elders 
say that only when we can tell a sob from a wail, and a 
want from a need, can we move up in status.” 
Aria grimaced. “I shall have much to learn to catch up 
to you. I can only feel strong emotions and the obvious. 
Nuances, I fear, are hidden to me.” 
“You will learn. Besides, I overheard one of the Elders 
say that you possess a strong natural talent. It will allow 
you to progress to Elder status faster than most.” 
“Truly?” 
Iliana tossed her head. “It is probably why they are so 
anxious to bring you into the class as soon as the babe is 
born. Goddess forbid that you should do something 
without proper training.” A flip of dark hair and a matching 
smile belied her good-natured sarcasm. 
Did the Elders know that she and Talon were joined? 
Aria’s eyes widened at the thought. “They exaggerate my 
abilities.” She hoped her argument did not sound as weak 
as her voice. 
“Do not underestimate yourself. The Elders are amazed 

that being raised in Laini did not extinguish your Trancing 
abilities. One said that only a Trancer with strong natural 
talent could have caught up with those of us raised here.” 
Every muscle in Aria’s body relaxed at the explanation. 
The Elders were unaware of the joining. “It is nothing.” 
Iliana laid her hand on Aria’s shoulder. “No, it is 
something. Have you ever wondered how you were able to 
come to us so late in life but function on the same Trancer 
level?” 
“No.” 
Iliana shook her head in well-meant disgust. “If you 
would pay more attention to your training, and less time 
thinking you are inferior due to birth, you would know 
that you are special.” She placed her other hand on Aria’s 
shoulder, turning her. “Right now. Tell me what you sense.” 
“As you wish,” Aria said and lightly touched the 
surrounding currents with her mind. She saw Tarik, a life 
spark, bright with innocence. Then, anger, misery, and 
pain overwhelmed her. She pulled back out and shook 
her head. It was as before. Her regrets buried the brighter 
currents that flowed throughout the Tower. 
“Well, what did you sense?” 
“The festival. Happiness,” Aria replied, glad her friend 
did not look into her mind to see the lie. To carry the 
burden was difficult enough without foisting it off on 
another. 
Iliana smiled. “Good. With the celebration I would be 
surprised if you saw anything else.” 
*** 
Thunder shook the Tower walls. Aria sat up, the 
wooden frame of her bed trembling with the force of the 
sound. Her heart beat as fast as a frightened hari. The 
room was dim, barely lit by the fire’s dying embers. 
Sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, she pulled a 
robe about her shoulders and walked to the window. 
Clouds obscured the moons and starlight, blackening 
the night sky. She strained her eyes, waiting for the next 
flash of fire from the sky to signal another clap. 
Nothing. 
Instead, another boom sounded closer and louder, and 
the floor trembled beneath her feet. 
Aria frowned. It was not thunder. Something was 

wrong. Very wrong. She turned, and the boom sounded 
again, this time knocking her off her feet with its force. 
She fell to her knees, the candle rolling from her grasp. 
Loose mortar from the stones above fell into her hair. 
What was happening? 
Scared for herself and the others who dwelt within 
the Tower walls, she reached out with her mind. The 
currents were the same as before—heavy with regret and 
anger. Now, there was another element. One that was 
missing earlier. There was fear. 
It was not just hers. It was everyone’s, and it was so 
thick it was almost tangible. She would have to push past 
both if she were to read the currents of life and find its 
source. 
Mentally, she took a deep breath, reached out psychic 
hands, and parted the black. It swirled like slick webbing, 
flowing over her clothes and through her skin. Pain, rage, 
and disharmony lay beyond. She tranced deeper, sinking 
into the current. Letting the black bind her. 
Death. The Tower. A man wanted them dead. She saw 
him standing, shouting out orders. A black and white mask 
obscured his face, its ragged stripes meant to confuse all 
that saw him. A black robe flowed from his shoulders to 
the ground. He waved a sword above his head. 
His smile was death’s grin. 
Aria flinched, but stayed within, mesmerized by the 
grinning stranger and his obvious hatred of all within the 
Tower. 
How could she have missed this? How could she have 
ignored the depth of the black, thinking it hers? Her 
darkness was but a flicker when compared to the shadows 
this man carried within. 
She was a fool for being so careless, and now all were 
in danger. 
Including her child. 
The babe within kicked as if rebelling against what 
she saw. She pulled out of the darkness, her hands 
wrapped around her belly, protecting it. It rippled beneath 
her palms. 
The door to her chamber flung open, slamming against 
the wall. 
Still on her knees, Aria lifted her head to see the Healer 

hurrying towards her. She wore a deep green robe with its 
hood pulled over her graying hair. 
“Aria. Are you hurt?” The Healer bent down to help 
her to her feet. 
“No. Merely bruised.” Aria rose and then stumbled, as 
the child kicked harder. 
One hand braced against her back, she straightened. 
Pain. Shooting pain rushed from her belly to her spine 
and through her legs. 
The Healer caught her before she fell. 
“What is it? What is wrong?” 
Aria groaned aloud as the sharp agony worked its way 
through her torso. The babe. Something was wrong. He 
struggled to leave her body. 
She gripped the Healer’s robe. “Please.” Her voice was 
a strangled whisper as she fought to speak. “My child. He 
comes.” 
The Healers eyes widened. “Now? He cannot.” 
Aria’s muscles contracted, and she doubled over. “No 
matter. He comes.” 
With faltering steps, she allowed the Healer to walk 
her to the bed. Groaning, she pressed a pillow against her 
rippling belly as the Healer put one under the small of her 
back. 
The Healer’s voice was urgent in her ear. “You must 
stop the babe. We are under siege. I came to take you to 
safety.” 
“I know, but it is too late.” Aria gripped the Healer’s 
hand in her own as another wave of pain washed over 
her. 
“Try, Aria. Please. Reapers climb the walls. They will 
kill us all.” 
Aria’s green eyes shone black in the dim light. “The 
Warriors. Where are they?” 
“I do not know. We have lit the signal fire, but it will 
take time for them to arrive.” 
“Does not matter.” Aria held a scream at bay. The bed 
covers crumpled under her as she twisted in agony. “The 
babe comes. Go. Save yourself.” 
The Healer shook her head. “I do not run. I heal.” 
In the distance, away from the agony that occupied 
her world, Aria watched the older woman light scented 

candles, placing them around the room. Once done, she 
sorted through the bottles and jars that rested on the table, 
setting them aside until she found what she wanted, 
making a small exclamation of success. 
The Healer came back to the bedside, a bottle of oil in 
her hands. “I do not have time to make a tea for the pain. 
Can you withstand it?” 
Aria nodded. “Just hurry. I can take it.” 
“Let us hope you are right.” The Healer opened Aria’s 
robe and pushed her short gown upwards, exposing her. 
“I am sorry that we do not have the time for ceremony, 
but we must bring the babe forth as fast as possible.” She 
applied the oil, rubbing it over Aria’s rounded belly. 
Aria arched off the bed as the contractions folded over 
her, taking her to the peace of oblivion where no thoughts 
of strength or consciousness could follow. 
Cold water dousing her face, and the Healer’s frantic 
voice begging her to awaken, brought Aria back to 
consciousness. “I am returned,” she mumbled, swiping 
her hair away with a weak gesture. “Continue. I will hold 
on this time.” 
“You do not have the strength to do this.” Doubt tinged 
the Healer’s voice. “I will increase the contractions to force 
the babe out.” The Healer opened another jar, and the 
scent of balt—a powerful drug— permeated the air. “If all 
goes right, you will be fine.” 
“My child?” Aria asked. 
“I do not know. The contractions will be great.” 
Aria grabbed her wrist. “I cannot allow this.” What 
worth would her life be if she bought it at the cost of 
another? “Find another way.” Her eyes focused on the 
sharp knife that served to cut her food. “My child must 
survive. Cut him out if you must.” 
Resignedly, the Healer nodded and set the jar down. 
“If there is no other way.” 
Aria smiled and let go of the woman. Her babe would 
live. 
Shaking her head, the Healer applied a compress to 
Aria’s face, dabbing the cold water onto her forehead and 
cheeks. “I will call one of the Elders. They might be able to 
help with the pain.” 
Aria shook her head. “You will not make it before the 

Reapers find you. Their quarters are too far.” 
“Are you close enough to any of the Apprentices to 
make a mind link?” 
Aria hesitated. She did not want to involve another in 
the danger, but she also wanted her child to have the best 
chance possible. Only one person would understand the 
risk. 
“Get Iliana.” 
The Healer did not reply as she hurried out the door. 
Aria closed her eyes, waited, and fought to breathe 
through each contraction that came upon her. 
“Aria.” Her name was whispered in the dark. 
She opened her eyes to see her best friend, her hair 
unkempt and hanging about her shoulders, leaning over 
her bedside. 
“The Healer told you what needs to be done?” 
Iliana nodded, and Aria reached out to touch her 
cheek. “Thank you for being so brave. I know I ask much, 
but you are the only Trancer I want in my psyche. I can 
trust no other.” 
Iliana knelt down next to the bed, her sleeping shift 
little cover in the cool night air. “You realize that 
afterwards, you will be indebted to me,” she said with 
forced mirth. 
“Agreed.” Aria knew her smile was just as strained. 
The oil that the healer used before assaulted her senses. 
Weaker than the balt, it was still potent enough to do 
what was necessary. The Healer bent over her again. 
Sounds of the Reapers running through the courtyard, 
hooting and yelling, filtered up and through the window. 
The Healer uncorked the bottle. “You will have to push 
the child forth now, or we will all die.” 
“I will.” 
The Healer looked to Iliana. “You must help her control 
the pain so she can keep her strength and focus on 
pushing. Can you do this?” 
“Yes.” 
“Good.” The Healer held the bottle over Aria. “Ready?” 
Aria closed her eyes and forced her breathing to ease. 
Opening her mental shield, Iliana touched her thoughts 
and established a light mind link. 
Her belly warmed as the Healer spread the oil over it. 

Her muscles contracted. The tension built as her body 
forced itself to push out the struggling babe. The pain 
folded over her, multiplying and expanding. Her strength 
wavered. Then, the pain lessened. Dividing. 
Iliana. She shouldered it. 
Aria felt her friend’s distress and strength as she 
endured the agony, giving Aria the necessary power to 
bring the child forth. She gritted her teeth and pushed. 
The Healer’s voice cut through the haze. She urged Aria 
to be strong, to be quick, and to push harder so that the 
babe could emerge. 
Aria cried out, her hands gripping the covers, wadding 
them as she bore down with all her strength. The pain 
ceased. 
Tarik was born. 
Iliana slumped over onto the bed, her face buried in 
the covers. 
Aria fell back into the pillows. Welcome, my son. The 
Healer cut the cord that joined them, and a sense of loss 
washed over Aria. 
Tarik screamed at the separation. 
The Healer gave the babe to Aria, and she smoothed 
his shock of black hair, reveling in its damp, silky texture. 
Iliana raised her head but did not meet Aria’s eyes. “I 
know about Talon.” The quiet statement barely reached 
Aria’s ears. 
“I know you know,” Aria replied. “I also know you 
approve.” She tickled Tarik’s cheek with a fingertip, no 
longer caring who knew about her and Talon’s joining but 
secretly glad that Iliana sanctioned it. 
Iliana pushed her own sweat-dampened hair from her 
face. “The joining is a beautiful thing. More powerful than 
I ever imagined.” She took Aria’s hand in hers, their fingers 
interlaced. “I would be lucky to feel what you feel, if only 
for a day. How could I disapprove?” 
“I hope that—” 
Shouts of victory and screams of terror filtered up from 
the courtyard below, interrupting Aria. The women turned 
towards the window in unison then back to each other. 
The Healer took Tarik from Aria and passed him to 
Iliana. “Get the child ready for departure.” 
“What about Aria?” Iliana cuddled Tarik in her arms. 

“What do you need to make her ready?” 
“Nothing. We stay here.” 
Iliana took a step back. “You cannot. Are you mad? 
The Reapers will kill you both.” 
“We have no choice. She bleeds too much. I must 
stabilize her before I move her. Otherwise, she dies 
anyway.” The Healer picked up a blanket from the foot of 
the bed and handed it to Iliana, indicating that she should 
wrap Tarik in it. “You must take the babe to the boats. I 
will follow with Aria when it is safe for her to walk.” 
“No.” Aria interrupted the squabble. 
The Healer and Iliana both turned to look at her. “I 
want you,” Aria nodded towards the Healer, “to go with 
them. Two women have a better chance of getting my child 
away.” 
The Healer shook her head. “I cannot leave you to die.” 
Aria smiled weakly. “I give you no choice. I refuse to 
let you heal me, and you cannot go against my wishes.” 
She stopped the protests of the women with an upraised 
hand. The Healer was right. The birth of her son had cost 
more that she thought. Even now, her life force faded, 
and it was an effort to breathe. She would not let her 
weakness bring harm to another. “The Warriors will arrive 
soon. If I live, they can help me. But I cannot live knowing 
I did not give my child, and the women who helped bring 
him into our world, the best possible chance of survival.” 
She held her arms out, “Now, let me kiss him good-bye.” 
Tears in her eyes, Iliana brought the child over. “Please, 
reconsider. Let the Healer stay. Let me stay,” she begged. 
Aria shook her head. There was no time for 
reconsidering. Even now, fate conspired against them. 
With a sob, Iliana laid the babe in Aria’s outstretched 
arms. Aria kissed his wrinkled cheek and stroked his hair. 
He was small, red, wailing, and perfect. “Tarik, my little 
one. Be sure to obey Iliana. Grow up strong and honorable, 
like your father. If I do not see you in this lifetime, I will 
wait for you on the other side.” 
She nodded to Iliana, and as much as his small weight 
pained her weakened body, it hurt far worse when Iliana 
took Tarik from her arms. She sank back into the pillows. 
“Now leave,” she ordered the two women. “Take my child 
away from here. Make him safe.” 

Iliana held the child close with one arm and embraced 
Aria with the other. “Once Tarik and the Healer are safe 
in the boats, I will come back for you. I swear it.” 
A trickle of blood ran down Aria’s thigh, soaking into 
the blanket beneath her. “I will still be here,” she said, too 
tired to argue further. 
The sounds of assault grew closer as Aria watched 
her friends depart. She closed her eyes and waited for fate 
to come to her. 
*** 
It was still nighttime when Aria awoke. The courtyard 
was quiet, with only the occasional whimpering reaching 
her ears. She listened harder, wondering if the Reapers 
were gone. Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside her 
door. Someone ran. Someone pursued. 
The Reapers had not departed. They had taken over 
the Tower. 
She wondered how much time had passed since Iliana 
and the Healer had left for the boats and if Tarik was 
safely away. 
Praying to the Goddess for their protection, she opened 
her mind to the currents that flowed through the Tower, 
looking for their sparks. Blackness and death greeted her 
like unwelcome visitors. She reeled back. It was too thick, 
and she did not have the strength to get through the dark 
to find her son. 
I must know if Tarik is safe. Even if it means crawling 
to the boats to find out. 
Her breathing forced, and her movements slow, she 
sat up. Turning over onto her hands and knees, she 
crawled backwards to the end of the bed and slid her legs 
over, her gown riding up and over her thighs. 
Done, she thought with relief. She was halfway off the 
bed and still alert. She pushed upward with her forearms 
and stood. Her body swaying like grass in the wind, she 
grabbed the wooden bedpost to steady herself. 
Something trickled down her leg. Still holding onto 
the bed, she bent over and watched a thin line of blood 
make its way over her thigh and towards her unshod foot. 
The sight made her stomach lurch, but she would not let 
it stop her. 
She needed to know her child’s fate. 

Stumbling from bed to table to chair, she made her 
way towards the door, each step more jarring than the 
next. She did not need to look behind her to know that a 
trail of blood followed in the form of red, smeared 
footprints. After what seemed like a turn, she reached the 
chamber door and fell against it, the rough wood 
scratching her cheek. Strength fleeing, and her abdomen 
cramping, she slid down the frame and onto the floor where 
she lay in a heap. 
Would physical death hurt more than the loss of her 
son, she wondered, as another spasm shook her. Or would 
it be a relief? She gazed up at the ceiling, waiting to die, 
and saw Talon instead. Talon? Was he dead as well? 
He was as when she last saw him, his dark hair tied 
back with the ceremonial cloth ties from the Given 
ceremony. His sword was by his side. 
“Aria. Our son needs you.” His voice sounded distant, 
as if he spoke from deep within a cave. 
“You know about Tarik?” Aria asked, surprised. She 
reached for her Giver, but he floated too far away. 
Talon smiled. His teeth white against his day-darkened 
skin. “Of course. I know everything you do. I can feel it 
everyday.” 
Aria smiled. She had hoped as much. Their link was 
strong, and neither distance nor time lessened it. He knew 
everything, and now he would help. “Please, Talon. Our 
son is in danger. You must save him.” 
He shook his head. “I cannot.” 
Aria trembled with disappointment. “You are a Warrior. 
You have no choice. Leave me here, but take our child 
away from this.” 
Talon shook his head again. “You must do that 
yourself. Only you can save him,” he said and then melted 
away. 
Aria awoke to find herself still on the floor, her cheek 
pressed against the cold stone. Damp with sweat, her hair 
stuck to her in lank strands. How long had she lain 
unconscious? Where was Talon? 
She shut her eyes and tried to remember his words. 
She had to save their son. 
First, she had to get up. 
Ignoring the white-hot pain that shot through her 

body, she reached upwards and gripped the heavy metal 
door handle, using it to pull herself to a standing position. 
She needed to get to Tarik. He was in danger. Talon said 
so. 
Her vision wavering like water running down glass, 
she opened the door and began to make her way through 
the hallway and towards the cove that sheltered the small 
boats. The floor kept moving from beneath her feet, 
confusing her senses. She gave a complaint as she 
slammed from one side of the hall to the other. 
“Boats. Where are the boats?” she mumbled. She 
remembered that boats were usually in water and giggled. 
Lurching down the hall on ever weakening legs, she 
ran face first into a wall and fell backwards, cracking her 
head on the stone. Reaching back, she rubbed the spot. 
No matter. She had a mission. Rolling over, she crawled 
to her knees, braced herself against the wall, and managed 
to stand. “Tarik.” Her thin voice boomed in the desolate 
hallway. “Tarik, where are you?” 
Turning, she continued to stumble and ended up 
pressed against another wall before she fell to the stone. 
Blood. It ran down her legs. She tasted it on her lips. Now 
she bled from all over. She laughed at the thought, rolled 
over, and saw the Healer lying next to her. 
“Healer.” Aria shook her shoulder. “You must rise and 
help Tarik. You said you would. You promised.” 
She plucked at the Healer’s robe with feeble motions, 
too weak to feel pain. “Look at me. Tell me why you break 
your promise.” She shook her again, and the Healer’s head 
lolled over. 
The woman who helped her birth her son looked at 
the ceiling with sightless eyes. Her throat gaped open like 
a macabre smile where a Reaper had slashed it with a 
knife 
Her delirium lifted at the gruesome sight, and her 
stomach heaved, but there was no time for sorrow. Tarik. 
Where was he? She prayed she was not too late and tried 
to rise. Her legs trembled, and she collapsed too the floor. 
Too tired, she realized. Too much life’s blood spilled. 
Talon came back, this time not floating but standing 
in front of her. “Aria, my love. You must hurry.” 
Aria licked her lips, wishing for water. “I am trying.” 

“I know, but try harder.” 
“You are the Warrior. Why did you not save us? Save 
Tarik?” 
He was gone again. 
The cool stone, and the sound of a child’s high-pitched 
cry, brought her from the blackness. Tarik? She started 
to crawl again. Stay centered, she told herself. 
A great crash shook the very air about her. More 
screaming. This time, a woman. Iliana? What were they 
doing to her? The door at the end of the hallway stood 
partially open, but nothing was visible. 
“Stop,” she begged. Desperate, she commanded her 
body to push past the resistance of gravity. 
The child’s cry abruptly stopped. The woman’s shriek 
was cut off. 
A Reaper laughed. 
It was over. They were gone. Aria collapsed back onto 
the ground. Beyond pain and beyond caring, she vaguely 
registered the motions as the Reaper emerged, his blade 
stained with blood. The mask of day and night covered 
his face, but Aria knew who he was. It is the man from the 
dark, she realized. He stepped over her, not glancing down. 
He thinks me dead. 
In her heart, she was. 

Three 
Talon leapt from the bow of the boat the moment it 
plowed into the sand. The Warriors under his command 
followed behind him. Battle cries sounding, they raised 
their swords above their heads as they splashed through 
the salty water, prepared to meet the Reapers. 
The silence of a vacant beach greeted them. 
At the head of the squadron, Talon quickly surveyed 
the area with a practiced eye. He saw no movement. 
Straining to hear over the ocean breeze, his ears detected 
nothing to indicate the Reapers waited. Was it a trap? 
Or their worst vision? 
There was only one way to find out. 
With a finger against his lips, he motioned his men to 
spread out. Quickly, silently, the Warriors broke into teams 
of six and made their way over the dunes and towards the 
Tower. 
In the lead, Talon crested a dune, and his heart 
dropped at the sight before him. The Tower’s great wooden 
gate hung from only its lower hinge. A black and white 
banner, undulating in the breeze, was thrust into the wood 
with a knife. 
It was not just any Reaper who had taken the Tower. 
It was Mako. The scar that ran from Talon’s eye to his 
chin burned at the memory of a man more ruthless than 
a katah’. A man with a heart blacker than a moonless 
turn. 
He knew few, if any, would be left alive inside the 
Tower. 
He whispered a silent prayer to the Goddess to let 
Aria be among the living. 
“Do we go in?” Lore asked, waiting for Talon’s decision. 
With a nod of approval towards his second in 
command, Talon pushed open the broken door in response 
and stepped into the still smoldering courtyard. Even 
though he knew what to expect, he gaped in horror at the 
destruction that lay before him. 
Women, ranging from early in years to ancient, lay 
strewn about. Like unwanted dolls left in the mud, their 
bodies were ravaged and torn. 

Talon wanted to howl at the loss. His jaw clenched, 
and the muscles in his neck corded and strained, as he 
held his emotions in check. He would mourn later. Right 
now, he had to find the living and secure the area. 
The sound of gagging reached his ears, and he turned 
to see one of the younger Warriors on his knees, retching. 
The boy would be embarrassed by his actions. It was not 
the lad’s fault. It was his first trek as a Warrior, and to see 
such barbaric destruction was horrifying. 
“You.” Talon pointed with the tip of his sword at the 
kneeling boy. “Comb the beaches for survivors. If none 
are found, stay with the boat and guard it.” 
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the boy 
nodded and stumbled to his feet. Talon pointed at two of 
the other recruits, young and in obvious distress by the 
green tinge to their cheeks. “You two, go with him.” The 
three trotted off, not sparing a backward glance. 
The remaining men waited as Talon scanned the area, 
deciding what to do first. Quickly, he assigned teams to 
areas, and the squads began searching for any signs of 
life. 
Leaving his sword unsheathed, he motioned for the 
rest of the men to follow him. 
Silently, they wove through the courtyard, turning 
body after body over, hoping for a breath of life. 
Disappointment greeted them at every turn. In pairs, and 
always ready for a Reaper ambush, the men separated, 
entering the different buildings in their search. 
“Do you think she lives?” 
Talon turned at Lore’s hushed question. His closest 
friend, only Lore knew of the still tender feelings he carried 
for his Given, Aria. “I do not know, but I hope,” Talon 
answered as the pair walked toward the smaller Tower 
where the Apprentices lived. 
“Can you feel her in your mind?” 
Talon gave a sideways glance at his friend. Was Lore 
perceptive enough to know that he sometimes thought he 
felt Aria? Heard her thoughts and dreams? “I used to think 
so. Sometimes I would swear she thought of me. Directed 
thoughts to me.” 
“But now?” 
“I am not so sure.” They turned a corner in unison, 

swords at the ready. The door to the Apprentices’ Tower 
was swung open. “I think I would know if she was dead, 
but I am not a Trancer and cannot trust those feelings. I 
deal with the tangible.” He reined in the anger that 
threatened to flow outwards at the thought of his beautiful 
Aria killed like an animal. “But know this. If she is dead, 
the Reapers will suffer. I will make sure of it.” His eyes 
narrowed as he envisioned choking the life out of Mako. 
Lore raised a brow. “Are you sure you do not feel more 
for her than you would like to admit?” 
Talon shot his friend a wary glance. “I neither admit 
nor deny my feelings, since I cannot explain them myself, 
but because of me she loved carelessly. I am bound to 
protect her.” 
“Ah, an answer that is not an answer,” Lore 
commented, his wry smile a sharp contrast to the carnage 
surrounding them. “I thought only Trancers could be so 
obscure. Are you sure you have no Trancer blood?” 
“Yes,” Talon replied. The pair entered the Apprentices’ 
Tower. Talon motioned Lore to follow him towards the 
room where he had last seen Aria. They turned a corner, 
and his heart stopped. A girl lay on the ground at his feet, 
her red hair stiff with blood. His lips moving in a silent 
prayer to the Goddess, he turned the still figure over. 
It was not Aria. Unaware he held his breath, it came 
out in a gasp. Guilty with relief, he closed the girl’s eyes 
before he continued. 
Perhaps Aria was safe, hiding in her room. There were 
fewer bodies in this area. Some might have lived. His lips 
continued to move as he prayed, but he knew that if Aria 
already lie slain then she was beyond even the help of the 
Goddess. 
Still, he took comfort in the thought that if she lay 
hurt the Goddess would assist her until he arrived. 
Why did I wait so long to come back? he asked himself 
as he made his way down the hall. He should have returned 
earlier—if only to beg forgiveness for opening his mind to 
her. Now, he might not have that chance. 
So many chances lost, and so many things left unsaid. 
It was a bitter thought. 
He turned another corner and stopped. A Healer lay 
on the stone, her throat slashed. 

Aria lay beside her, one arm flung over her chest and 
the other lying palm up on the floor beside her. Blood 
covered her robe and thighs. 
Talon dropped to his knees and gathered Aria’s still 
form in his arms. 
“Aria, wake up. Open your eyes,” Talon implored, 
looking at her pale face for any signs of life. She did not 
stir, but lay in his arms, her limp form unmoving. He 
bowed his head and begged the Goddess to spare her life, 
promising anything if she would save his Given. 
“Let her go, Talon. She is beyond us now.” 
Stricken with grief, Talon focused his eyes on Lore, 
who stood on the other side of Aria. “No. I will not let her 
go.” 
He kissed her pale cheek. Lore was wrong. The Goddess 
would not let this happen. “Open your eyes for me. Breathe 
for me,” he begged, letting his head rest against Aria’s 
lank hair. Goddess, how could she be gone? Hot tears 
filled his eyes, stinging. He had not cried since he was a 
boy. It was not fair. Not now and not like this. Talon gave 
another cry, the sound of a wounded animal, as he rubbed 
his rough cheek against her smooth one. 
“Please.” His whisper was a prayer as he held her 
closer, willing his breath into her lungs and his life force 
into her heart. “Please, do not leave me.” 
A weak thud sounded in his ears. Talon’s head shot 
up. Just as quickly, he bent down to listen. 
Another dull thud sounded. She lived. Barely, but it 
was enough. Thank you, Goddess. “Lore, get the Healer 
from the boat. Now.” 
In one swift movement, Lore nodded, sheathed his 
sword, and turned on his heel, running down the hall. 
“Hold on, little one. Just hold on. If you can do that, I 
swear I will make sure no one ever hurts you again.” Talon 
stroked her bruised forehead with his hand before he 
placed a kiss upon it. His movements slow and gentle, he 
pulled her matted hair away from her cheek. The last time 
he had seen her, the strands shone like a fiery beacon in 
the night. Now dulled with blood, the red was a garish 
caricature of her real color. 
He touched a bruise that stained her cheek. She 
moaned, and her body twitched as if struck. 

Carefully, he pulled her against him, hoping his 
presence would signal safety and allow her to awaken. “It 
is Talon. I have returned.” 
Her chest rose with a deep sigh. Her eyes opened, and 
he saw the same deep green that haunted his dreams. 
“Talon?” Her voice was barely a whisper. 
“I am here.” He gripped her hand in his and brought it 
to his lips, grazing the scraped knuckles with a kiss. 
Her eyes went from the hand that Talon held, to his 
face, and back again. “Are you real this time?” 
“Yes.” He kissed her hand again, not caring that her 
life’s blood stained his lips. 
She sighed again and her eyelids closed. 
“Do not fall asleep,” Talon begged. She did not answer, 
and Talon watched in horror as her face went from pale 
white to bright pink. He placed his palm against her cheek. 
She burned. She was back from beyond, but fever racked 
her small frame. 
“You are not real.” Aria’s voice was distant, and her 
eyes were still closed. With more strength than he thought 
possible, she began to shake. Hoarse screams issued from 
her throat, and she twisted, fighting whatever haunted 
her fevered mind. Her small fists beat weakly upon Talon’s 
chest. “Where have you taken Tarik? Give him back to 
me.” Her sobs tore at him. “I will do whatever you want, 
just please give him back.” 
Tarik? Who was Tarik? Talon held her tighter, rocking 
her in his arms. She screamed for Tarik again, howling as 
if demons chased her. Tarik. Perhaps she had taken a 
lover after he left. The hair on the back of his neck stood 
on end at the thought, but there would be time to deal 
with that later. 
He grabbed her hands, not wanting her to hurt herself 
further. “Aria, you must listen to me,” he said, trying to 
break through the dreams. “You are imagining things. It 
is I, Talon. There is no Tarik.” 
Her face went lax at his words. “No Tarik?” 
“No. You imagine things.” 
“No,” Aria cried, twisting in his grasp. “You lie.” She 
took a weak swipe at his face, and he caught her hand in 
his. 
Her strength ran out, and her breathing slowed. Still, 

her skin burned so hot he felt it through his leathers. 
“Where is that Healer,” he muttered. Aria was getting 
worse, and he was helpless. He was a Warrior and knew 
only how to kill. He wished he at least had some cool 
water for her forehead. Anything to soothe her. Goddess, 
get the Healer here soon! 
*** 
“Master Talon. Move aside. Let me see the girl.” 
He looked up. He had been so lost in prayer that he 
had no idea how much time had passed, but Lore stood 
next to him with the Healer by his side. She carried a 
medicine bag in a pouch at her waist. 
Talon laid Aria back down onto the stone floor, putting 
his cloak under her head. Hovering, he watched as the 
Healer examined Aria. Her slim hands were sure and deft 
as she searched for broken bones and opened wounds. 
Finally, she stood. 
“Will she live?” Talon asked, afraid of the answer but 
even more terrified to not know. 
The Healer shook her head. “I cannot be sure. She 
has lost much blood. She also has a fever. It must come 
down. Her body cannot take the stress of both.” 
Talon nodded, grateful for a plan of action. “Tell me 
what I must do to help.” 
“Do you know which room is hers?” 
“Yes.” 
“Good. The soul finds it easier to heal in familiar 
surroundings.” 
Keeping his cloak under her head, Talon picked Aria 
up. He marveled that she seemed so light—like a wraith 
with no more substance than the morning mist over the 
trees. 
Almost running, and with the Healer and Lore in tow, 
he headed down the remembered hallway. The smell of 
blood, metallic and thick, saturated the air. 
Arriving at Aria’s room, he walked inside. His heart 
almost stopped when he saw her bed—the same bed where 
they had made love, laughed, and joined—was soiled with 
blood. The covers were disarrayed and shoved to one side. 
Her pillows were flung carelessly to the floor. Something 
had happened here, of that there was no doubt. 
He looked at the blood that covered her robe, her hair, 

and her thighs. His eyes narrowed. He would kill all the 
Reapers for abusing not just her flesh but also her gentle 
nature. Holding Aria with one arm, he used the free one 
to pull the soiled sheets off the bed. Carefully, he laid her 
upon the bare mattress. 
“Stand away.” It was the Healer. Talon walked to the 
end of the bed where he could guard but be out of the 
woman’s way. The Healer stripped the ruined garment 
from Aria’s body. Talon held his breath, fearful of the 
damage done to his Given. 
“I am sure she will be all right.” Lore stood next to 
him. 
Talon acknowledged the comment with a grunt before 
he spoke to the Healer. “Is there anything I can do?” 
The Healer tucked a blanket around Aria’s nude form. 
“Boil some water and bring it to me. You.” She pointed at 
Lore. “Gather some clean cloths, rip up clothes if need be, 
and bring them to me.” 
Both moved, commanded by the slight woman. 
Looking in the kettle that hung over the hearth, Talon 
was relieved to see it still contained water. He poked at 
the dead ashes in the fireplace until he found some embers. 
Placing dry grass from the firebox over them, he blew until 
a small flame leapt up, and then placed small twigs upon 
it until he could add larger pieces. The fire roared to life. 
He stood close until the water churned. 
Using a thick piece of cloth, he carried the kettle back 
to the Healer. 
She gestured with her head. “In the bowl.” 
Talon saw a blend of leaves and flowers scattered in 
the bottom of a wooden vessel. 
“Mix it until it is well blended then add cooler water 
until it is still hot but not scalding.” 
Talon nodded and prepared the mixture. 
“It will bring down her fever,” the Healer explained. 
“You must hold her up while I make her drink.” 
“As you wish,” Talon replied. He dipped a finger in the 
water, testing the temperature. “It is ready.” He handed 
the bowl to the Healer. 
“What is her name?” 
“Aria.” 
“You were her Giver?” 

Talon’s face grew hot. Was their relationship that 
transparent? “Yes.” 
The Healer nodded. “Good. She will recognize your 
voice. I want you to call to her. Tell her to drink.” 
Keeping Aria covered, Talon sat on the bed and pulled 
her upright against his chest. She lay lifeless in his arms. 
“Aria, wake up. I have medicine to make you well. You 
must drink.” 
She did not respond. 
“Again,” the Healer demanded. “But she is far under. 
You must open your heart and call to her if she is to 
awaken.” 
Talon took a deep breath. Open his heart? How could 
he do that when even he did not know what he felt? Still, 
he had to try. “Aria,” he whispered in her ear. “I have 
returned to you. Awaken.” 
A hair’s breadth of body movement told him that she 
was emerging from the depths that claimed her. 
Then, she settled again, going limp. 
The Healer glared at Talon, her disgust obvious. “Do 
you want her dead?” 
He could not let her die, not after the Goddess had 
granted him the chance to save her. Talon took a deep 
breath. “I cannot live without you. Please do not leave me. 
I need you.” 
He was rewarded with a fluttering of eyelids, and her 
eyes looked into his once more. “Talon, are you real?” 
“As real as life.” He whispered a thank you to the 
Goddess. 
“I thought I dreamt you. I was in the hall. You were 
there, but you left. There was screaming and an evil man.” 
“Shh,” Talon murmured. “We will talk later. Now, you 
must drink. We have something to make you better.” 
Aria opened her mouth and drank. 
Talon clapped her lightly on the back when she choked 
on the last few drops, and then he laid her back down, 
satisfied that she would live. Holding her hand, he sat on 
the edge of the bed until her eyes closed. His own eyes 
were hot, sticky with sudden weariness, as his defenses 
relaxed. The Tower was lost, but Aria lived. 
Placing her hand at her side, he moved to stand and 
was stopped when, with surprising strength and speed, 

Aria reached out and grabbed the hem of his tunic. “Do 
not leave me again.” 
Talon’s lips tugged downward at the fear that lit Aria’s 
eyes, and he caught the rung of a chair with his foot, 
pulled it over, and sat down. “I will not. Now rest, and let 
the Healer work.” 
“I do not want to rest,” Aria protested, even as her 
eyes closed. 
“Shh.” Talon stroked her hair. “Sleep will heal you.” 
“I have bad dreams.” 
Talon kissed her forehead. “I will protect you,” he 
assured her as her breath slowed, and she sank into a 
more natural slumber. 
“We must clean her wounds.” 
Talon looked up, startled at the Healer’s voice. He had 
forgotten she was present. 
“More water?” 
“Yes, but you will need to move while I bind her.” 
“I promised I would stay by her side.” 
“You will, but not just yet,” the Healer said. “Now move 
so I may perform my duties, or would you rather she 
remain unclean and uncared for?” 
Standing, Talon walked over to the hearth to let the 
Healer have the room she requested. He watched as she 
poured the rest of the water into another bowl. Lore handed 
her the clean material he had found then joined Talon 
while the Healer worked, affording the women privacy. 
“Be patient, my brother,” Lore said, one hand on the hilt 
of his sword and the other on Talon’s shoulder. “The Healer 
is well trained, and Aria is stronger than you think.” 
Talon tried to take comfort from the words, but failed. 
“I should have been here.” 
“Then what? Could you take on an entire Reaper 
army?” 
“No, of course not.” Talon’s rising voice was subdued 
with a scathing look from the Healer. “But I could have 
saved her from this tragedy. I could have kept her safe,” 
he finished with a whisper. Troubled, he ran a callused 
hand through his hair before it came to rest on his sword. 
What did Lore know? Had he ever cared for a Given beyond 
the ceremony? Talon looked into the blue, concerned eyes 
of his friend and knew he judged unfairly. Lore used wit 

as a weapon and shield, but it did not lesson his depth of 
feeling. Talon rubbed his still stinging eyes, knowing he 
would do better to keep his anger directed where it 
belonged—at the Reapers. “How goes the rest of the Tower? 
Any survivors?” 
Lore shook his head. “Not that I have heard of, but I 
directed the others to keep looking until we are sure.” 
Talon fingered the pommel of his sword. Aria’s escape 
from Mako, and death, was more than a fluke. It was fate. 
The Goddess spared her for a reason, but for what? 
“This is odd.” Both men turned at the Healer’s 
comment. Still partially covered, Aria lay in exhausted 
sleep as the Healer tended her. 
Talon strode over to the bed, fear racing through him. 
“What is it? What is wrong?” 
The Healer continued to clean the blood from Aria’s 
body. “Other than some scrapes, she does not have any 
serious wounds. I did not find any earlier but thought it 
due to the speed of my exam.” 
“Where did all the blood come from? Is it not hers?” 
Glancing at the soiled sheets on the floor, he feared the 
answer. 
The Healer did not reply but continued washing, 
silently assessing her patient. Dipping the rag into the 
now red water, she pulled the blanket aside and began 
washing the blood from Aria’s thighs. Talon did not turn 
away, dreading what the Healer might say but needing to 
know. 
Finally, she stopped, placed the rag back in the bowl, 
and left it. Standing, she covered Aria with Talon’s cloak. 
“Well?” Talon asked. 
“It is hers.” 
His instincts for revenge and protection rising to the 
surface, Talon bristled. A question weighed heavy on his 
lips but had to be asked. “Was she violated?” 
“No.” The Healer’s smile was a mixture of both sorrow 
and relief. “She bore a child.” 

Four 
Aria’s scream pierced the morning air, jerking Talon 
awake from his uneasy sleep. He pulled his sword even as 
he leapt from his makeshift bed. In two short steps, he 
was at Aria’s bedside, awake and ready to protect her from 
harm. 
He glanced around in the room. No foes attacked. No 
Reapers lurked in the shadows. There was only Aria, 
fighting her nightmares. 
She screamed again, a cry of anguish and loss. He 
sheathed his sword and leaned over her, holding her 
bruised and scraped hands between his palms. 
She continued to shriek as she fought to break free 
from the sleep that claimed her. With surprising strength, 
she pulled her hands from his, holding them in front of 
her like a shield. 
Anger at the Reapers sprang anew in Talon’s blood. 
His sword arm tightened in reflex. Later, he promised 
himself and held his anger in check. Now, Aria called for 
rescue from the demons that tormented her. “Shh, you 
are safe,” he whispered. “Nobody will hurt you while I am 
here.” 
Calming, her eyes fluttered and opened, their dark 
green shade accenting the shadows beneath them. She 
looked up at him in confusion. “Are you real?” 
Thank the Goddess. He was beginning to wonder if 
she would ever waken. Smiling in relief, Talon stroked a 
damp curl away from her forehead. Leaning down, he 
kissed her hair. “Yes.” 
Her mouth curved in a weak smile as his hand came 
to rest against her cheek. “I thought you were a dream. 
Another vision to taunt me.” 
“I am real enough.” He kissed her fingertips. “Can 
you not feel me?” 
She nodded, and for a few heartbeats, both took solace 
in the silence. 
Finally, Aria spoke. “What happened? Was the Tower 
taken?” 
He shook his head. “Later, when you are strong, we 
will talk.“ 

“No.” Her hand tightened around his. “Tell me now.” 
Sighing, Talon sat on the edge of the bed. As much as 
he wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from death’s 
destruction, she had the right to answers. Sadly, there 
were no easy ones. 
Aria pressed him. “My sisters? Are they safe?” 
The words stuck in his throat. How could he speak of 
total devastation? He could not. Not while she was weak. 
Not now. The agony of loss would find her soon enough. 
He stood. “I will find the Healer and tell her you have 
woken.” 
Aria grabbed his tunic with her hand. “Tell me now.” 
He untangled her fingers from the cloth and laid her 
hand on her chest. “Later. I promise I will tell you all later. 
Let me find the Healer first.” 
“No. Now. What do you hide? Were many killed?” 
He ran his hand through his hair. Panic stroked her 
face, and he knew the lack of knowledge made it worse, 
but how could he tell her that the truth was so much 
more horrifying than anything her mind could imagine? 
Oh Goddess. Help me find the right words. 
There were none. “You are the sole survivor.” 
“Dead? They are all dead?” 
Her shock, her look of disbelief, pierced Talon like a 
spear. “I am sorry,” was all he could say, and even in his 
own ears, it sounded inadequate and pitiful when 
compared to the anguish that he knew welled in her heart. 
Sudden tears deepened her eyes and traced a path to 
the pillow beneath her head. “All dead? It cannot be.” 
Beneath the thin gown, her shoulders shook. She turned 
her stricken gaze to him. “Why do I live? Why me?” 
There was but one explanation. “I think they thought 
you already dead. We arrived a few suns ago, and I found 
you in the hallway. You were covered in blood and 
unconscious.” He hesitated. “You almost did die in giving 
birth to our son.” 
Aria closed her eyes, her lashes dark upon her pale 
cheeks. “You know.” 
“Yes.” He wanted to comfort her, but did not know 
what to do. How could his sense of loss compare to hers? 
“I wanted to tell you.” 
“I know.” Both knew it would have been impossible. 

The Elders would have stopped her. It was not for Warriors 
to know their sons. Only the Trancer mothers gained that 
privilege. 
“It was a difficult birth.” Aria’s eyes glazed over as if 
she looked into the distance—or the past. “He was a large 
baby and stubborn.” Her voice cracked. 
Talon’s heart ached. He wanted to know about his 
son, but he also knew the knowledge would bring a greater 
pain. Still, he did not stop her. She needed to speak, to 
say the words so she could begin to grieve for her loss. 
His grief could wait. 
“I needed Iliana. You remember her, do you not? She 
was the one who chose you as my Giver.” 
“Yes, I remember,” Talon whispered. An ebony-haired 
maiden, she had called his name across the sands for 
Aria to hear. 
“I was not strong enough to push our child forth. So 
much pain.” Aria grimaced, her delicate face twisting at 
the memory. “Pain that the Reapers brought when they 
invaded our Tower. I could not get past it. Iliana helped 
me. She gave me strength.” 
Talon flinched as her shoulders heaved and tears 
choked her voice. 
“I named him Tarik. What a temper he had. He was so 
mad at being taken from his warm home and brought out 
into the world.” She laid a hand on her stomach. 
Talon wiped her tears away with his thumb, knowing 
she remembered their child and how the babe had felt 
when within. 
Aria shuddered, but continued. “I gave him to Iliana 
and the Healer to take to the boats. I tried to save him, 
Talon.” Her eyes opened, dark green and desperate. Her 
voice rose in panic as she relived the deadly night. “I tried 
to save him, and I failed. I found the Healer in the hallway. 
Her throat cut. She was left like an animal. Like she did 
not matter.” 
Barely breathing, Talon’s very being cried for Aria to 
stop. It was inhuman torture to hear of his son’s birth 
and death in the same breath. 
Still, he said nothing. 
“The last thing I remember is hearing Iliana shout and 
our baby cry. They were cut off in mid-scream, and a 

Reaper walked out, grinning. His sword was stained with 
their blood.” She threw her hands over her face. “I failed 
him, Talon. I should have saved him, and I failed. I killed 
our son.” 
Pushing his pain aside, Talon pulled her to him, resting 
her against his chest, unable to bear her anguish. “You 
did nothing of the sort. There was nothing you could have 
done save die alongside him.” 
Aria struggled. Talon released her, and she fell back 
onto the bed. Turning away from him, she buried her face 
in the pillows. “I should have died. What right do I have to 
life? What did I earn other than shame?” 
Talon shook his head. “Do not blame yourself. Do not 
take all the pain and rage and heap it upon your 
shoulders.” 
“Where would you have me put it?” 
“On the Reapers.” He hesitated, not wanting to speak 
his heart, but she deserved to hear the truth. “And on 
me.” 
“You were not here, and I was. I am the one who 
failed.” 
“Do you not understand?” Talon said, his voice harsh. 
“I should have been here, keeping you safe. If I were, our 
son would be alive. It was my duty to protect you and our 
son, and I failed. Not you.” He pounded the bed with a 
fist. 
Aria laid her hand on Talon’s, opening his taut fingers 
with a delicate touch. “You are a Warrior, not a Trancer. 
How could you have known to return?” 
“I should have known. I should have come back.” 
Aria took a deep breath. “I cannot have you blame 
yourself.” 
“And I cannot have you shoulder the burden.” 
She held his hand to her cheek. 
With his other hand, Talon unbuckled his sword and 
set it on the floor. Pulling the covers aside, he settled in 
next to Aria, keeping her safe, keeping her close. Silent, 
the only sound was his heart beating in time with her 
breathing. 
She turned in his arms and pushed a strand of hair 
away from his face. “Talon?” 
He jumped, caught in dreams about what would not 

be. “Yes?” 
“Over by the fountain is a shade garden. I think Tarik 
would like to meet the Goddess in such a place. I would 
place him in Iliana’s arms. She was my friend in life and 
committed to his safety.” Her voice quivered but did not 
break. “I know she will do the same until we meet in death.” 
Talon pulled her closer. Hearing of the destruction was 
horrific enough. He had hoped to avoid this part of the 
conversation for a while longer, but now that she asked, 
waiting was not an option. “I wish I could say yes to your 
desire, but his body is not here.” 
Aria’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?” 
“Reapers often take those they kill and either fling 
them into the ocean or leave them in the woods for the 
wild animals to dispose of. It is a final act of cruelty, leaving 
the survivors to wonder and worry.” 
“Oh my Goddess,” she whispered. “Who else? Who else 
did they take? Who else will I have to leave unspoken and 
unburied?” 
“No one other than Iliana and Tarik.” It was as if Mako 
had known how to hurt Aria, the single survivor, in the 
worst possible way. “We will have a service and commit 
him and Iliana to the Goddess. I swear it. I will make the 
Reapers pay for what they took.” 
“Only Tarik and Iliana?” Shakily, she pulled away from 
Talon and managed to push herself into a sitting position. 
“Do the Reapers take prisoners?” 
He rose beside her, shaking his head. “No. Never, but 
that is what they would have you think.” 
“Perhaps it was not Tarik and Iliana I heard.” 
He frowned. She did not hear him, but instead, wanted 
to believe the unbelievable. When he found Mako, he would 
pay for this added pain. Pay for making Talon be the one 
to crush her dream. 
“Perhaps they live,” she murmured. Ignoring Talon, 
Aria leaned back against the headboard, crossed her legs, 
and shut her eyes. She drew a deep breath, and her hands 
relaxed and fell to her knees where they rested palm-up. 
Trancer position. He had heard of it, but not seen it 
since he had never dealt with Trancers other than the 
Given ceremony. Was she strong enough to do this? He 
reached out a hand to shake her and stopped himself. 

Would he hurt her if he broke her trance? 
Moments ticked by as he watched. Her expression, 
far from passive, changed as she wove her way through 
what he understood to be the currents of life. He waited, 
watching her frown change to anger, and her anger to 
confusion, then the confusion to beatific. She smiled. What 
had she found? 
Swaying, she fell sideways. Talon caught her in his 
arms. Grabbing his tunic, she managed to remain steady. 
She opened her eyes. She still looked tired, but the tears 
were gone. In their place was a profound expression of 
comfort and hope. 
“I do not feel him, Talon.” 
Or was it desperation? What had she seen, or thought 
she saw, when she looked for their son? “Tarik? His body 
is gone.” 
She shook her head, her impatience obvious “No. That 
is not what I mean. I feel his energy, but not his death. He 
is alive.” 
“You found him?” Goddess help him, Talon wanted to 
believe her. Wanted to believe their son lived. Wanted to 
believe his failure was not complete. 
Aria shook her head. “No, I am too weak, and the 
Tower,” she hesitated. “The currents are corrupt with 
death. It will be seasons before they will help a Trancer 
and not hinder.” 
Talon’s brief flicker of hope died with her excuse. No 
matter what he wanted, and no matter what Aria thought 
she felt, their son was dead. Of that, there was no doubt. 
Why would the Reapers, a group that depended on their 
ability to move quickly and silently, take a newborn babe? 
“No. You are wrong.” He whispered the denial. 
“He lives. I know it,” Aria insisted. 
Talon rested his head in his hands. “I know you wish 
it true, but wishing does not change what happened. Why 
would they take him?” 
She shrugged. “I cannot answer what I do not know. I 
only know that I do not feel his death. Just his life.” 
Talon fell back onto the bed with a groan. What should 
he do? He did not want to encourage her belief, but she 
had been through so much already. Perhaps it would not 
hurt to let Aria believe Tarik lived. Then again, was it right 

to let her dream and hope for the impossible only to have 
it taken away again? He did not know. 
Uncrossing her legs, Aria lay back and snuggled into 
Talon’s arms. “I know you do not believe me, but you will.” 
*** 
Standing at a window overlooking the courtyard, Aria 
watched as the Warriors below performed the ceremony 
for the dead. Pushing the windows open, she leaned out 
to hear the liturgy. Masculine and low, their voices rolled 
over the phrases and songs. She closed her eyes and 
listened as the final good-byes were said. 
The chanting stopped, but Aria did not need to open 
her eyes to know Talon now stood in front of his Warriors, 
saying the farewell to Tarik. Alone. It was supposed to be 
her, but the Healer refused to let her leave the Tower. 
Besides, her son lived, and the chant was unnecessary. 
Turning away from the scene below, she wandered 
the communal room, her robes dragging on the floor 
behind her. I should be down there, sending my friends to 
meet the Goddess, she thought. Her son lived, but many 
others had died in the Reaper raid. So many sisters and 
Elders. 
She breathed deep as memories overwhelmed her, 
threatening to send her to the floor in their intensity. 
Stumbling, she recovered. She could not mourn. Not yet. 
If she mourned now, if she remembered what happened, 
the tears would never cease. Later, after she recovered 
Tarik, she would sing for her friends. Until then, she would 
have to bear the silence of the almost empty Tower. 
It would help if she could walk outside. Perhaps assist 
in the restoration of all that the Reapers destroyed. Her 
lips turned downward as she remembered the Healer 
telling her that under no circumstances was she to exert 
herself. The sounds of song stopped. The ceremony was 
over. Aria sighed and walked back towards the window, 
letting her fingers trail along the tops of the cushioned 
chairs as she walked past. Her patience wore thin with 
the confinement. 
The squad of Warriors walked away from the graves, 
returning to duties. They had spent much time on making 
the Tower habitable once again. Soon, word would be sent 
to the other Towers, and a few women from each would 

arrive, ready to finish the work the Warriors had started. 
Their presence would bring the Tower back to life, and 
they would bond as a group. 
Aria wondered if it would ever be the same, but she 
already knew the answer. No. Not for her. This new group 
of Maidens, Apprentices and Elders would see the Tower 
as their new home. They would know its past, but it would 
not touch them like it touched her. She would never see 
the Tower in the same way. Once, the sturdy walls kept 
her safe, and her friends made her happy. 
Now, her friends were gone—and she knew that no 
walls were impervious. 
“I brought these for you.” 
Talon stood in the doorway. He carried a bundle of 
fresh shanta flowers. 
He walked over and placed them in her hands. 
She inhaled their spicy scent. Since her recovery, his 
attention to her was both consistent and charming. “Thank 
you.” She stood on her toes to kiss his rough cheek. He 
colored at the gesture, his discomfort endearing him to 
her. 
Talon touched the spot where she had kissed him. 
“You are welcome. I hope these make your confinement 
more pleasant. I know it is difficult.” 
“Boring would be more accurate.” She placed the 
flowers in a vase. “I know the Healer means well, but I 
would like to go outside and sit under the trees. I feel 
strong enough to make my way down to the yard and 
back again.” The Healer did not understand that she had 
grown up in a place where grass grew up to the door, and 
in some cases, even served as a roof. To be stuck within 
stone walls was intolerable. 
“Only a few more days. I promise.” 
Talon did not understand either. Resignedly, she 
nodded and went back to him, placing her cheek against 
his chest. He hesitated then put his arms around her. 
“I suppose I can wait a while longer,” she replied with 
a sigh. Happy to be in the safety of his embrace, she 
wrapped her arms around his waist. 
Talon stroked her back with a firm hand, kneading 
her still-sore muscles. “I offered sweet oil for our son.” He 
whispered the information like a deep dark secret. 

“Why?” Aria asked. 
“It is said that the Goddess is most appreciative of 
such a gift. I wanted to make sure she would care for him 
as we would have.” 
He deliberately misinterpreted her question, but in 
doing so, he acknowledged their bond. Anger and elation 
warred within her. Patience called a truce. She held him 
tighter and chose her words. “My Warrior, I thank you for 
the gift to the Goddess, it was most thoughtful, but our 
son lives.” 
“I know you believe he does,” was his cautious reply. 
“Then why do you persist on ignoring my words? I 
know you do not misunderstand.” 
Talon disengaged himself from their embrace and 
unbuckled his scabbard. He hung it on a nail that had 
been pounded into the back of the door, went to the table, 
and poured deep-red wine into two goblets. Without a 
word, he offered one to Aria. 
Both drank deep, and the silence took on a life of its 
own, filling them room. Talon sat in a chair by the fire. 
“You are right. I know what you meant.” 
“Then why act unaware?” 
“I think our son has gone to meet the Goddess. You 
feel differently.” He swallowed another mouthful of the 
tart red liquid. “Who is to say which of us is right?” 
Aria’s ire flared at the patronizing tone and all thoughts 
of patience fled. “I am right.” 
“I know you think you are.” He looked at her like a 
misled child. “I hoped we would save this conversation.” 
“Why wait?” 
“You are still frail.” 
Frail? Childhood wounds opened at the accusation. “I 
am stronger than you think. Speak your thoughts.” 
“As you wish,” Talon said. “But I have only a question. 
Why would the Reapers take a newborn with them?” 
Aria clenched the goblet, her knuckles white, desperate 
to make Talon understand that grief did not blind her. 
“Perhaps Iliana talked them into it.” 
“And why would they take her and no one else?” 
Aria’s grip tightened further. “I do not know their 
motivations, but I know they took our son.” 
“If you knew their ways you would not be so sure in 

your conviction.” 
“Do you know them so well that you are positive of 
yours?” 
His face darkened at the question. “I know them well 
enough to know that they would not take a newborn. It 
would be inconvenient at best, deadly at worst.” 
Aria let his words wash over her, reminding herself 
that he was a Warrior. He relied on what he saw, not the 
intangible emotions that all possessed. For Warriors, 
feelings were suspect. “You are right in that I do not know 
their ways,” she conceded. “However, my ignorance does 
not mean I am wrong.” 
Talon set his goblet down upon the stone hearth. “I do 
not think you ignorant, merely optimistic.” 
Optimistic? Perhaps, but she was also a woman 
changed by pain and loss. She wondered what it would 
take to make him see the changes she had undergone in 
losing both her child and friends. “How do you propose 
we resolve this matter?” 
“You are the one who believes he lives. Tell me your 
thoughts.” 
“I would like to find him. I can be ready in a few suns.” 
“You will do nothing of the sort.” 
Taking a deep breath, Aria focused on remaining calm, 
knowing anger met with anger only grew. She reminded 
herself that his denials were born from concern over her 
well-being. However, he overlooked the fact that keeping 
her in her room would not keep her safe. Or happy. 
“Would you have me do nothing?” She asked. “Would 
you ask any mother to ignore the fact that her child was 
in peril?” 
Talon crossed his arms and turned away. “I will hunt 
down the Reapers. If our son lives, I will bring him back.” 
With a Trancer’s sight, she saw an echo of black and 
a swirl of dark fury surround Talon, engulfing him. He 
lied. Aria sat down, stunned. He did not go to find Tarik. 
He went to find the Reapers and destroy them all. Perhaps 
he denied it to others, but he could not deny it to her. 
She rolled the goblet stem between her palms, the 
metal cool against her skin. She could not lose him again. 
Not like this. Not to pain and destructive passion. She 
would have to save him from himself. She gulped some 

wine to fortify her resolve for the battle to come. “Then I 
will travel with you.” 
Talon whipped back around, his face blank. The mask 
of a man who has all the answers. “No. I forbid it.” 
Aria’s jaw dropped at the audacity of his words. “You 
forbid it?” 
“Yes. You are too weak to travel and would slow me 
down.” 
She wanted to fling her goblet at his head, but resisted 
the urge. “I will not. Besides, you need me. I can follow 
their trail. Once I feel Tarik, there will be no way they can 
hide my child from me.” 
Talon strode over and gripped Aria by the arms, pulling 
her too her feet. “I lost my son to those butchers. I will not 
lose you.” 
Aria did not try to move away but looked her Giver in 
the eye, fighting the hysterical laughter that trembled on 
her lips. They both wanted the same thing—to save the 
other. He wanted to save her body, and she wanted to 
save his soul. 
She laid a gentle hand upon his forearm. “You will 
not lose me. With my Trancer abilities and your Warrior 
skills, we will prevail over all that try to bar our path. 
Together, we can find Tarik.” 
He shrugged her away. Aria’s heart cried out at the 
dismissal. 
“My decision remains unchanged. You will wait here. 
Do I have your word?” 
She shook her head. “No. You do not. I will not give 
my word, and you should not ask for it.” 
Talon took a step forward, his eyes softening. “I beseech 
you, Aria. Do as I ask. Please.” 
Aria walked towards the window, avoiding the pleading 
look he gave her and the truth that surrounded his 
emotions. Perhaps he was a Warrior, more comfortable 
with a sword than a battle of words, but if she were not 
careful, his honest distress would win this fight. 
She could not let him win. If she did, she would be 
safe, but Talon would lose his soul to the destructive forces 
within. 
If that happened, he would not be able to live with 
himself, and then her loss would be complete. Perhaps it 

was selfish, but that possible future frightened her more 
than the edge of a Reaper’s blade. 
She braced herself for Talon’s wrath. He would not 
like her decision, but it was for the best. “I know you wish 
to keep me safe, but I cannot agree to what you ask.” 
Talon walked up to the window to join her, caressing 
her shoulders with his palms. She shuddered. He would 
be easier to deny if his concern were not so genuine. 
“What if I give you no choice?” he asked. 
“You would not do such a thing.” Aria turned around, 
appalled at the implication. 
“Yes, I would, but please believe me in that I do not 
wish to do so. I am not your master and have no desire to 
play the role. I am your Warrior and wish to keep you 
from harm’s way.” 
She shook his hands off. “Pretty words from one who 
would control me.” 
She heard him chuckle, and her skin burned. “You 
mock me? That is beneath you.” 
“I do not mock. I admire. When we met, you were but 
a naive maiden, fearful of touching my bare skin. Now 
you stand defiant.” His chuckle quieted. “I would give my 
sword to bring back that innocence.” 
Her heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice, but 
she refused to let it sway her. “Much has happened.” 
“Too much. Your innocence may have vanished, but 
you are still more unfamiliar with the ways of the world 
than you might imagine.” 
“I know enough, and I am a Trancer. Do not forget 
that.” 
“I do not forget.” 
“Then you will let me travel with you?” 
“No.” 
Aria broke away, her pace loud on the stone as she 
measured her anger in footsteps. “Do what you must, but 
do not ask me to do any less.” Deliberately, she turned 
away, ignoring him. He approached her from behind. His 
warm breath disturbed her hair as he leaned in. 
He kissed the top of her head. “It will be as you say,” 
he whispered. 
Turning on his heel, he sheathed his sword and left 
the room. The door slammed closed like a coffin’s lid. 

*** 
“I cannot believe how uncooperative and stubborn Aria 
has become.” Talon paced the room while Lore watched, 
grinning. 
“What did you expect?” 
Talon wanted to throw his hands in the air, but he 
refrained from such a useless gesture. Aria made him want 
to tear his hair out, but he would overcome his own 
impatience if it killed him. “I expected her to be 
reasonable.” 
“Reasonable or malleable?” 
Talon stopped in front of Lore. “What do you mean, 
malleable?” 
“When you met Aria she was ignorant enough to do 
anything you said. Took your every word as truth. She 
believed in you completely. She was a maiden, a girl. Now, 
she is a woman made strong by suffering.” 
Talon glared at his friend. “Do you suggest that I want 
to keep her ignorant?” 
Lore held up his hands. “I am saying that maybe she 
was easier to deal with before the Reaper’s raid, and now, 
you are at a loss as to how to behave.” 
Talon frowned. “Nonsense. I want to keep her safe. 
She is a woman, yes, but she is still inexperienced.” 
“And you would keep her in such a condition.” 
“No. I would show her the world,” Talon replied. He 
would place the moons at her feet and the sun in her 
hands if he could. He continued, “But I would not have 
her gain more world-experience at the hands of the 
Reapers.” 
Lore shrugged in acquiescence. “Agreed. I cannot argue 
your logic in that wish. No woman should be subjected to 
that kind of knowledge.” 
Talon whipped around. “So, will you help me?” 
“What would you ask of me?” 
“Keep Aria here while I ride to find the Reapers.” 
Lore raised a brow. “I can, if that is what you want of 
me, but I thought to travel with you. Two Warriors stand 
a better chance against a Reaper army.” 
Talon clapped his friend on the back, wanting to accept 
the offer, but knowing it was impossible. “Thank you, but 
I must decline. I think Aria is strong-willed enough to try 

to follow me, and I need someone I can trust to prevent 
such an occurrence.” 
“Surely another Warrior could fulfill such a simple 
request.” 
Talon held back a sigh of exasperation, but decided to 
speak his thoughts, hoping to make Lore understand his 
reasoning. “The Council will be angry at my leaving, but 
my motivation is strong. There is a chance they will be 
lenient in punishment when I return.” If I return. “As for 
you, they would banish you from the Keep. Friendship is 
not a reason to slaughter.” 
Lore’s expression grew stony. “So you do not plan a 
single confrontation? You desire total revenge? Obliteration 
of the Reapers?” 
Talon made a careless gesture, but his heart was not 
so flippant. He was a city dweller long before he became a 
Warrior, and some of the codes ran deep. The Reapers 
would not go unpunished. Any of them. “I will do what is 
necessary to make the Tower—all Towers—safe from their 
evil doings.” 

Five 
Hands bound in front of her, Iliana lurched forward, 
physical weariness overcome by Reaper strength. Though 
the destroyed Tower was four suns behind them, the band 
of Reapers showed no signs of slowing and stopped only 
to sleep at night. 
Another tug from her captor and Iliana stepped on 
her already battered sleeping robe, stumbling to the 
ground. She landed with a cry. A rock gouged her hip and 
dirt imbedded itself into her bruised skin. She saw the 
leather boots of other Reapers as they passed, ignoring 
the scene. 
“Get up, Trancer,” her captor commanded. “Or lie there 
forever.” 
Instead, Iliana ignored both him and her throbbing 
hip and closed her eyes, grateful for the lack of movement. 
A moment of rest. Just a moment, and I will get up. 
“I said move.” He emphasized the command with a 
kick to her ribs, and Iliana cried out as pain shot through 
her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his foot go 
back for another swing, and she rolled away, rising to her 
feet. 
“Son of a raja,” Iliana muttered through gritted teeth. 
“I am up.” 
“What did you call me?” 
“Nothing.” Iliana turned away to continue her march. 
“That’s not what it sounded like.” Grabbing her by 
her braid, he swung her around until she faced him. “You 
look at me when I speak, Trancer, and you better watch 
your mouth, or I’ll cut out your tongue.” 
These Reapers were barbarians. Animals. No, below 
animals. Animals would never show such contempt for 
life. She pulled away, her captive braid tugging at her 
scalp. The Reaper laughed. “Stay with me, and maybe I’ll 
forget what you called me.” 
Was he going to hit her again? 
He pulled her closer. The hardness of his erection 
pressed against her as he ground his hips into hers. No, 
he had plans far worse than a simple beating. Anger welled 
up from deep inside, replacing the need for survival and 

the fear of the situation. How dare he? She was a Trancer. 
A daughter of the Tower. 
Leering, his free hand moved to her waist and made 
its way up her chest. Hot anger burst from deep within. 
She was not a common village whore he could paw and 
fondle. Rearing back, she spit at her captor. The sticky 
glob struck his cheek. 
He wiped it away with the back of his hand, and in 
the same motion, cuffed Iliana across the cheek, sending 
her reeling into the dirt. 
“What did I tell you about our guest?” 
Iliana looked up from the ground to see Mako, the 
leader of the Reapers, staring down at her from the back 
of a black rohha. She swore again, but this time only in 
her mind. She did not want to attract his attention any 
more than she already had. 
He would kill her if he felt the need. She had seen the 
depths of his ruthlessness when she was marched past 
the bodies of her sisters. Hidden behind his handsome, 
almost regal face, was the heart of a madman. 
If he had a heart at all. 
“You said to make sure she did not run.” 
Mako tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I also said 
to treat her well, Bruin. Do you see how hitting her will 
not help me towards that goal?” 
Bruin nodded. “My apologies, but she is insolent.” 
Mako raised a dark brow, and Iliana flinched, 
regretting her hasty actions. 
“Bring her to me.” 
Bruin punched her in the small of her back, shoving 
her forward. 
“Trancer, do you know why you live?” 
“Yes.” Bile rose in her throat at the memory she already 
worked to forget. 
She lived because of a bargain. Let her, the Healer, 
and Tarik live, and she would help him. She would use 
her Trancer abilities to give him an advantage over the 
other Reapers. 
Mako, eyes black behind his mask, had agreed, but 
given her a choice—only herself and one other. Tarik or 
the Healer. Not both. 
If she refused to choose, all three would die by his 

blade. 
So she chose, and the Healer died, her ancient eyes 
forgiving Iliana even as they cut her throat. 
Iliana swallowed hard, knowing any reaction other 
than cool disdain would be perceived as a sign of weakness. 
And weakness was not tolerated by the Reaper leader— 
it was dealt with. 
“You remember what I hold as collateral, do you not?” 
Mako’s rohha danced beneath him. 
“I remember.” How could she forget? Iliana peered 
around the side of the beast, looking for the small bundle 
that was the baby. The poor child was too quiet. 
A horrible thought crossed her mind. 
What if she had sacrificed the Healer for nothing? 
“Let me see him,” she demanded. “Let me know he 
still lives, and I will trouble you no further.” 
Mako gave a sharp whistle. One of the other Reapers 
rode forward, stopping when he came to Iliana and the 
leader. 
“Show her,” Mako commanded. His cool eyes never 
left hers. 
Reaching behind him, the Reaper pulled a bundle off 
his back and presented it to Iliana. Tarik lay inside the 
wrapping. Fast asleep, his cheeks were pink with life, and 
his tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. 
Iliana breathed a sigh of relief that went all the way to 
her toes. 
“We will have no more of this nonsense, will we 
Trancer?” 
Iliana nodded her acquiescence. “As long as Tarik is 
safe, I will do as you ask.” 
“Good.” Mako turned his rohha around to leave, 
stopped, hesitated, and turned back. “Punishment. I 
forgot.” 
The Reaper leader nodded to Bruin. “Turn her.” 
Hands like clubs grabbed her, forcing her around, and 
she was once again inhaling Bruin’s foul breath. 
“I am going to like this,” Bruin whispered in her ear. 
She felt her head tugged back by her braid. What was 
Mako going to do? She squeezed her eyes shut, prepared 
for a blow. It did not come. Instead, he caressed her hair, 
his hand curved around her ear and ran lightly across the 

back of her neck like a lover’s caress. 
Before she could cry out, he pulled her hair straight 
up and away from her scalp. Iliana opened her eyes in 
time to see the flash of a sword, razor sharp and deadly, 
as it came towards her. Her head snapped forward. The 
pulling was gone. 
So was her hair. 
With a cry, she looked to see Mako holding the long, 
thick plait in one hand and his weapon in the other. “Do 
as you promised, or next time it will be your head.” He 
smiled, letting her hair fall beneath the hooves of his rohha. 
Muffling a sob, Iliana nodded, knowing he told the 
truth. 
Mako reined his rohha in towards Bruin. “Now it is 
your turn. Step forward.” 
The Reaper looked up, startled. 
“You disobeyed my orders. What shall your 
punishment be?” 
Bruin shuffled forward and knelt before Mako. “It will 
not happen again.” 
The air around Iliana grew silent as others stopped to 
watch with expectation. 
Mako grinned the same death’s smile Iliana 
remembered from the Tower. “That is right. It will not.” 
Raising his sword, he ran Bruin through. 
Without a sound or a sigh, the Reaper fell to the 
ground. Dead. 
Wiping his sword on his cape, Mako sheathed it and 
bowed his head to Iliana. “My lady, you ride with me.” 
There was no choice. Iliana let herself be pulled onto 
his saddle. 

Six 
“Was that a lunge, or did you stumble?” Talon taunted 
his opponent. He shifted his body, ready to move in an 
instant. Sword in one hand and short dagger in the other, 
he waited for the other man to attack. 
He was rewarded moments later as Lore rushed 
forward with a battle cry. A surge of energy raced through 
Talon’s blood. He stepped aside and whacked his friend 
with the flat of his sword as he went past. 
Lore fell forward, rolled, and jumped to his feet with a 
grin. 
“A worthy try,” Talon goaded. 
Lore, his body dusty and his smile wide, charged again, 
not allowing Talon a chance to step away and prepare. 
Within seconds, the clash of swords rang throughout the 
courtyard. 
Talon reveled in the clean energy of battle as Lore 
rained blow after blow at his head and torso. He moved 
backwards into a defensive position. Sweat ran down his 
face and into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He blinked 
once, twice, three times before it cleared. He shook his 
head. Sweat spun outwards. 
“You should have worn a head cloth,” Lore commented 
with a grunt as Talon blocked a thrust. “Such a simple 
mistake could get you killed if we truly fought.” 
“Perhaps,” Talon replied, his voice even and steady 
despite the exertion of sparring. Lore lunged. Talon stepped 
back and sideways. Lore misstepped. It was all Talon 
needed. Within seconds, his mind unerringly calculated 
his next move. The surge of power that came with winning 
roared through him. “But not today.” With a tuck and 
turn, he rolled past Lore, rising to his feet. 
The fight ended with his sword pointed at Lore’s back. 
Lore raised his hands and dropped his sword in defeat. 
“Once again, you are the victor.” His tone held no hint of 
malice, only good-natured acceptance. Turning, he bowed 
in acquiescence. 
Talon sheathed his sword. “I am glad to see my 
maneuver was successful.” 
“I did not think a man of your size could move so 

quickly. It was a bit of a surprise.” 
Talon’s brows went up. “My size?” 
Lore grinned. “You know, as big as a rohha and about 
as graceful.” 
“You fight much better with wit than with sword,” 
Talon said, unable to resist. “Perhaps if you practiced more, 
you might best me in both.” 
Lore took a step back, clutching his chest. “You wound 
me with your words.” 
Clapping his friend on the back, Talon laughed. 
“Master Talon!” Talon saw a young Warrior walking in 
his direction. Still chuckling, he wiped his sweaty brow 
with the back of his hand and waited while the young 
man made his way across the courtyard. 
“What is it, lad?” 
The young Warrior bowed before speaking. “The 
Council has arrived, and they wish to speak with you.” 
Talon sheathed his sword. He had been expecting the 
summons. His impending quest for vengeance was 
common talk around the Tower. It had been only a matter 
of time before the Council heard the rumors. 
“Would you like me to stand at your side?” Lore asked. 
Talon shook his head. “Thank you, but this is my 
battle.” 
“Perhaps, but as Warriors we either stand together or 
fall alone.” 
“I am grateful for the offer.” Warriors lived, fought, 
and died with their brothers. They relied on each other for 
protection in battle, but this battle was private. “This is 
something I must do alone.” 
Lore nodded. “As you wish. I will be in the dining hall 
if you care to speak later.” 
Turning on his heel, Talon accompanied his escort to 
the main Tower chamber—the one where the slain Elders 
had once governed. Other Warriors occupied the courtyard, 
some helping the new arrivals from the other Towers settle 
in, and some still repairing Reaper damage. Silence 
followed in Talon’s wake as his comrades watched him 
walk past, fully aware of the summons and its meaning. 
He ignored the sideways looks, preferring to ready his wits 
for the verbal battle to come. 
Seven Warriors made up the Council. The members 

were older and past their prime for physical battle, but 
they were unequaled in verbal skills and tactical strategy. 
Still fearless, they commanded the Keep that the Warriors 
usually occupied. 
Talon’s muscles tightened into battle readiness as they 
strode closer. The Council of Seven would try to talk him 
out of his chosen path. It would take all his determination 
to deny their request and all his skill to gain their approval. 
They only sanctioned fighting the Reapers when the 
outlaws invaded the land, and were not willing to give the 
Reapers the advantage by fighting them in their own 
territory. 
The thought that the Council had grown soft flickered 
through Talon’s mind. He reminded himself it was not his 
place to issue judgment on them. After all, they were not 
the enemy, not in the way the Reapers were. The Council 
sought to preserve, not destroy. 
His escort stopped in front of the large double door to 
the chamber where the Council waited. Without hesitation, 
Talon thrust the heavy wooden portals open and entered. 
His nose wrinkled. The room smelled stale and dank from 
disuse. A deep blue rug marked a path to a chair placed 
in front of a table. Made of a deep, brown wood, the table 
was barely long enough to accommodate all the members 
who sat on the far side. 
Talon walked to the chair, but remained standing, alert 
and ready for the verbal battle he knew would be waged. 
He placed his hand upon the cold metal handle of the 
weapon that rested against his hip. 
Knowing there would be no pleasantries, he waited 
for the Council to make the first move. 
“Master Talon, do you know why we have summoned 
you?” 
Talon turned to face Councilman Reef. His brown hair 
flecked with gray, he was the youngest member of the 
Council. 
“Yes.” 
The Councilman looked grim as he surveyed Talon 
from sweaty hair to leather-clad foot. “Let me first say we 
understand your anger and desire for revenge.” 
Talon frowned at the comment and quelled the urge 
to scoff. They understood? They did not feel Aria’s shame 

in survival when her world was destroyed. They had not 
seen the grief and sorrow in her eyes when she was told of 
the death of her son. They had not held her as she cried 
over her loss. They did not share in her anguish. 
Or his. 
“I see you doubt my words,” Reef commented. 
Talon nodded. “Do you have a son?” 
Reef shrugged. “I do not know, but that does not negate 
my empathy and understanding for your situation.” 
“I do not doubt your intentions are worthy, but you 
err when you speak of understanding my situation. You 
have never lost a child to violence.” 
Reef gave a curt nod. “True. However, you would be as 
unaware as I if not for this unfortunate turn of events. 
Aria erred in telling you of the boy. Regardless of the 
situation, her son’s death was private and should have 
remained so.” 
The hair on the back of Talon’s neck rose. “Her loss is 
mine. You would do well to remember that. I will not have 
you speak ill of Aria or discount the death of our child.” 
The Council buzzed at the statement. Reef silenced 
them with a gesture. “It is true? You care for the Trancer?” 
Talon hesitated, knowing he must speak the truth, 
but also knowing the consequences of such an act. He 
could not define his feelings for Aria, but he knew that 
because of the joining, they went beyond the boundaries 
of custom. “She is the mother of my son and my Given.” 
He hoped it was enough to satisfy the Council as far as 
Aria was concerned. 
“Was your Given,” Reef corrected. “When the ceremony 
ended so did your obligations.” The rest of the Council 
nodded in agreement. 
Talon did not deny the truth of the statement. When 
he departed after the Given ceremony, he should have left 
Aria and all she meant to him. 
He had tried, but his determination to dismiss her 
only seemed to entrench her in his mind and bring her 
deeper into his thoughts. He had found himself alone in 
the dark of night, remembering her cries of delight and 
the excitement of discovering her own body’s responses. 
When he rode through the forest, every leaf was the color 
of her eyes. When he saw a flame, he saw her hair. 

Joined or not, she was unforgettable. An innocent 
enigma that haunted him. 
“It was my hope this issue would not rise.” Reef 
interrupted Talon’s thoughts. “But I see now it is the crux 
of the problem.” 
“What issue do you speak of?” Talon asked. 
The Councilman rose and walked around the table 
while the other members whispered among themselves, 
evaluating the conversation. “In addition to the talk of 
your desire for revenge, we are aware of your lack of 
participation in the Given ceremony since you were with 
the Trancer.” 
All conversation stopped as seven pairs of eyes watched 
Talon for a response. 
Talon challenged each Councilman, one by one, as 
his gaze met theirs, staring until they backed down. What 
he did or did not do was none of their business. 
Reef paced in obvious agitation, waiting for Talon to 
speak, but finally breaking the silence. “Master Talon, I 
am sure you are aware of the covenant between the 
Trancers and the Warriors in regards to the Given 
ceremony.” 
“Of course.” 
“Explain it to us.” 
“Why? You know the pact as well as I.” 
Reef sat in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. 
“Indulge me.” 
Talon shrugged. If the Council wished to humiliate 
him, let them try. He knew the law as well as one born to 
the Warrior code. “As Warriors, we use our physical 
strength to protect the Trancers and all who lie within 
their Tower.” 
“And in the Given ceremony?” 
“Only a Warrior may assist the Given in becoming a 
woman, for only a Warrior has the mental shield to 
withstand the Trancer onslaught that occurs in her first 
encounter.” 
Reef did not rise, but motioned Talon to sit. He glared 
at the Councilman, defying the request. 
Reef rose from his chair and walked around the table, 
stopping in front of Talon. “I have never had reason to ask 
this, Master Talon, and never thought I would have reason 

to. Especially of you, one of our most noble Warriors.” 
The Councilman stepped closer until he was nose to nose 
with Talon. “Did you join with her? Did you break the 
pact? Is this the reason you declined the other 
ceremonies?” 
Talon closed his eyes. After the joining, he had planned 
to confess but could not. Instead, he had kept silent, 
hoping to spare Aria any repercussions. 
Now his silence served to convict him. 
The air pulled outward as Reef stepped away. “Why 
did you not speak? There are ways to repair the damage. 
Why did you not come to us?” 
Talon opened his eyes to see the rest of the Council 
staring at him, their shocked expression more cutting than 
words. “I would not trouble my brothers with personal 
problems.” 
“Your silence had nothing to do with the Trancer?” 
Talon’s head dropped, knowing his answer was not 
the one Reef wanted to hear. “I did not want her disciplined 
then, and I will not allow her to be disciplined now. It was 
not her fault.” 
Reef’s face colored. “It is not up to us to discipline to 
the Trancer. Her mistakes are between herself and her 
people if she would choose to tell them. However, you must 
be aware we cannot allow you to continue on this path. 
You are a Warrior and must act as such. If you persist in 
an inappropriate relationship with this Trancer, you will 
be forced to leave the Warrior brotherhood.” 
“I understand.” 
“No, I do not think you do,” the Councilman continued. 
“The same consequences apply if you persist in seeking 
revenge for a son you should never have known about. 
This path you walk ends here and now!” The table shook 
as the Council slammed his fist onto it. 
Talon took an involuntary step towards Reef at the 
decree. “You cannot do this. I must find his killers. Honor 
demands it.” 
“Not Warrior honor, which you seem to overlook at 
convenience. So, do not speak to me of honor. I will strip 
you of rank and title if you force me to. We can forgive a 
mistake if it is small, but you broke one of our most solemn 
vows and now propose to break another.” 

“What do the other members say?” Talon searched 
the faces of those who judged him, but their eyes were 
blank, their lips pressed firm, as they watched him and 
the proceedings. “Will you deny me satisfaction?” 
Cloak swirling with a flourish, Reef swept away and 
made to speak with the Council of Seven. He went from 
one member to the next, holding whispered conversations. 
When he reached the end of the table, he walked back to 
Talon. “We are in agreement. Return to the Keep. Forget 
the Trancer.” 
“And my son?” 
“Him as well. A Warrior fights when necessary and 
does not take life without just cause. Revenge is in 
opposition to everything we stand for.” 
“If I refuse?” Talon asked, although he knew the only 
answer possible. 
“You will be disavowed.” Reef’s expression was earnest 
but firm. “Now leave, and consider what we have said. 
You have until the next rising of the sun to decide if your 
life as a Warrior is worth the price of revenge.” 
“My decision is already made.” Unsheathing his 
Warrior’s sword, Talon held it at arm’s length. The polished 
metal glowed pure silver in the room’s dim lighting. He 
opened his hand. It fell to the floor. The clang of metal on 
stone ripped through his soul. He was a Warrior no longer, 
not in title and not by right. 
He walked away. 
*** 
Aria stood in the doorway to Talon’s room and watched 
as he thrust clothes into a pack. Rumors of the Council’s 
decision, and his reply, had spread though the Tower, 
and she had feared they were true. “By the way you are 
stomping about, I would say my fears were justified,” she 
murmured. 
Talon turned at the whispered comment. “You should 
not be here. I am an outcast. You only hurt your 
reputation.” He closed the pack and flung it onto the bed 
where another waited. 
Aria shrugged. “Perhaps you are unaware, but others’ 
opinions mean little to me now.” She crossed the cold stone 
floor and stopped a hairsbreadth away from Talon, her 
eyes searching his. 

Talon pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “You 
should care.” 
Burning from the fire that raged within, the heat of 
his skin singed her Trancer soul. “Why? These people are 
strangers to me.” 
“They are your people.” Talon’s hand dropped away. 
Taking bread and fruit from the table, he filled another 
pack. 
Aria walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. 
Down below, both men and women worked in the garden. 
She watched one of the newly arrived Elders, her hair white 
with age, as she bent over to water a young plant. “What 
do you see when you look out this window?” 
Leaving the pack on the table, he walked over and 
stood beside her. “I see what you see. People working. 
Warriors and Trancer bringing your Tower back to life.” 
“True, although that is but a cursory observation.” 
She leaned on the ledge and took a moment to take in the 
view as the massive gates opened and a band of Trancers 
walked through—more recruits for the Tower. “Do you 
know what I see?” 
“Tell me.” 
Aria heard the indulgence in his voice. She ignored it. 
“I see the same thing.” 
With a harrumph, Talon turned away. Aria stopped 
him with a gentle hand upon his forearm. Now was not 
the time to allow him to humor her, not when so much 
was at stake. “Wait. I have yet to tell you the difference 
between your vision and mine.” 
He stopped, obliging her request. 
She tried to smile. “The difference is not in what is 
seen but in what is not seen. I do not see my friends or my 
son. I do not see the women who taught me to be strong. 
I do not see my home.” Her voice cracked before she caught 
herself with a reminder that she could not allow herself to 
be crippled by grief. Not yet. She forced herself to finish, 
to speak her thoughts before she lost the chance to make 
Talon understand. “This is still a Tower, but it is not my 
Tower.” 
“I know how you must feel.” 
“No, you do not.” Aria gripped his arm harder as 
memories of that night resounded in her ears. The screams, 

maniacal laughter, and pleadings grew louder with each 
breath. She shut her eyes, but it only served to intensify 
the experience. “You cannot possibly imagine what it is 
like to lose everything. To have everything, everyone, taken 
away. To never get the chance to say good-bye.” 
Talon placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “Yes, I 
can.” 
His voice and comforting strength brought her back 
to the present. She glimpsed the empty scabbard on the 
bed. Her face colored in shame. He knew loss all too well. 
“I am sorry. I did not think.” 
He shrugged. “At least I was given the choice and the 
chance to say good-bye.” 
“When did you plan to say the words to me?” Aria 
asked, “Or were you going to just walk away?” 
He reached into his shirt and pulled out a crumpled 
piece of parchment. “Everything I needed to say, I said in 
this.” 
Aria took the paper from his fingers, wadded it into a 
ball, and threw it to the ground. “Perhaps you are of the 
Warrior guild no longer, but your heart is not so easily 
changed. A letter of explanation is beneath you.” She 
touched his cheek. “Do I mean so little to you?” 
“No. Never. I only thought to save us both the pain, 
but you are right. It is a coward’s way.” He caught her 
chin with a forefinger and tilted her face upwards. “I could 
not bear to do it. I could not bear the look on your face as 
I left.” 
“Then do not. Take me with you.” 
Talon brought her hand to his lips and kissed a 
fingertip. “I wish I could.” 
“Then do,” Aria urged. “I promise you will not regret 
it.” 
Talon shook his head. “It will be a rough journey. I do 
not know where the Reapers reside. He hesitated. “And 
barely a moon has passed since Tarik’s birth. You are still 
too weak to travel.” 
“I am not as delicate as you would believe. Do not 
make the mistake of assuming that muscle and willpower 
corresponds to height and strength.” She drew herself up 
to her full height, but she barely reached Talon’s chin. 
“Do not leave me because I am a woman. Take me because 

I am a Trancer. With my abilities to read the currents, 
you will locate the Reapers faster with me than without 
me.” She could also take the time to talk some sense into 
him and save him from dishonoring not just his code but 
also his soul. 
“Speed is not the issue. I will find them no matter how 
many seasons pass.” 
Aria gritted her teeth. “Leave me and I will follow.” 
Talon ran a hand through his hair. “You are more 
stubborn than I thought.” He paced away, and she heard 
him murmur as if talking to himself or, perhaps, the 
Goddess. “Perhaps she can do what she claims. Who am I 
to decide her fate? Is it up to me to tell her what she can 
and cannot do?” 
He continued to pace. Aria watched, waiting to see 
the outcome of the conflict that raged within her Giver— 
to keep her safe or to let her decide her own fate. What 
would he do? 
His voice rose, catching her off guard. “Have you been 
able to read the currents since your recovery?” 
Aria worried her lip. “No, but no one can. Not until the 
Elders perform a cleansing ceremony to banish the 
negative currents the Reapers brought upon the Tower.” 
He frowned, and she hurried to explain. “Once I am 
away from the Tower, I will be able do so again.” 
The silence as he mulled over her words almost broke 
her. His pacing ended when he stopped in front of her. 
“Are you sure?” 
Aria nodded. “I am positive.” 
She was rewarded with a resigned sigh. “If you cannot 
keep up, I will have to send you back.” 
Her heart leapt that reasoning had managed to 
penetrate her lover’s rigid ideals. “You will take me?” 
“Against my better judgment, yes.” He shook a finger 
at her. “But I mean it when I say I will send you back if 
you cannot keep up. Do you agree?” 
“Agreed,” Aria replied. Standing on her toes, she 
reached upwards. “A kiss to seal the bargain. I know we 
will succeed and find our son.” She placed her lips on his 
mouth, and he crushed her to his chest and tasted her 
with his tongue. She rose into the heat that rushed from 
their bodies, her hands tangling in his hair, and for a 

moment, all the pain went away. 
He pulled away, and she crashed back to reality. But 
the residue of his feelings for her caressed her skin, giving 
her strength. Her head reeled. 
“Go pack.” He kissed her on the forehead. “We leave 
in the morning.” 
Aria let a grin curve her lips in the first truly happy 
moment she had experienced since the Reapers took her 
world away. 
Playfully, Talon swatted her on the bottom as she 
rushed out the door. 
“I will be waiting,” she called over her shoulder, her 
mind already preparing and planning all that needed to 
be done before she departed. 
*** 
The pounding on the door grew louder, invading Aria’s 
dream. She rolled over. It was time to begin the quest. 
Her feet were running before they hit the floor. 
The smooth leather of the leggings she had stolen from 
a young Warrior hugged her legs as she ran for the door. 
Perhaps the reason for the journey was serious, but 
excitement coursed through her at the thought of 
adventure. Finally, after years of being the obedient 
daughter, and then the dutiful Trancer, she was going to 
be able to prove she was strong. She would be able to 
quell the voice in her head that told her she was weak and 
insignificant. 
She would show her father that a first-born daughter 
was worth as much as a first-born son. 
Her eyes caught the letter she had placed on the table. 
Sealed with candle drippings, it described her reasons for 
departure. She hoped it would help ease the worrying of 
the newly arrived Elders. Even if it did not, she knew what 
she and Talon did was right. 
She flung open the door. 
It was Lore. He stood alone. 
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, as she understood 
the situation. 
“Aria—” 
She held up a hand, stopping him. She recognized 
the expression of guilt that clouded his perfect features— 
she saw it every time she saw her own reflection. Granted, 

hers was more pronounced, but his downcast eyes told 
her more than mere words ever would. 
She turned away, unwilling to let Lore see the pain of 
betrayal in her eyes. “When did he leave?” 
“Last night. He asked me to watch out for you.” 
She chewed her lip. Perhaps Talon was worldlier, but 
it did not give him the right to his overwhelming arrogance. 
It did not give him the right to lie. 
“I do not need a keeper. I am not a child.” Running a 
hand over her hair, she smoothed the waist length braid. 
“I know. I told him as much.” 
“Really? I thought all your kind tended to agree when 
it came to matters of women.” 
“We disagree and agree as much as anyone else.” 
She dismissed Lore with a flick of her hand. Walking 
over to the table, she picked up her letter and tore it into 
pieces. The sound of paper ripping did little to satisfy her 
anger at the betrayal. “Your words are nothing to me. Just 
more talk, more lies, from a Warrior who would control 
me.” She threw the paper pieces into the fireplace. 
“I know what he did seems wrong but it is for the 
best. You have been through much, and he would not see 
you go through more.” Lore placed his hands on her 
shoulders. “He will be back soon, and in the meantime, 
you will have me to keep you company.” 
“Small consolation.” She jerked away, turning to watch 
the rest of the letter burn. 
Lore chuckled. 
Her frown deepened. 
“You are stubborn. I can see why Talon worries.” Lore’s 
breath sounded in her ear. “It will not be as bad as you 
think, pretty Aria. I am pleasant enough.” 
He pinched her bottom, and Aria jumped, turning in 
midair. “How dare you,” she shouted. “Get out.” 
Lore backed up. 
Picking up a goblet, she threw it at her keeper’s head. 
He dodged and went for the door, shutting it behind him. 
“At least you are not angry with Talon anymore,” she heard 
him call as he turned the key, locking her in. 
“Lore, you are an insufferable raga,” Aria screamed, 
throwing another goblet. “Let me out of here.” Laughter 
was the only response, and it faded as Lore walked away. 

Aria screamed again, a wordless cry, and beat on the 
heavy wooden portal until her fists were red and sore. 
Talon had left her behind. Left her to wait for him to either 
die or return a killer. Hope dissolved at the thought, and 
she leaned her head against the wood, as her pounding 
grew weaker. 
Tears of anger flooded her eyes. The betrayal went 
deep. 

Seven 
Lore stood at Aria’s doorway with a tray of food in his 
hand. “Is it safe to come in?” 
“Yes,” came the muffled reply. 
He hesitated, remembering his earlier encounters with 
the Trancer. “Are you armed?” he called out, partly 
concerned, but mostly amused. For two suns, he had 
asked the same question. For two suns, when he entered 
the room, Aria waited with a weapon in hand, and he had 
ended up pushing her tray through the partially open door. 
“No.” Her voice sounded closer as if she waited just on 
the other side of the door. 
“How can I be sure?” 
“I promise. I will not try to hit you,” was the muffled 
answer. 
Perhaps the beautiful Aria was over her snit. Lore 
chuckled. It was more likely she was waiting to brain him 
into unconsciousness. Still, she had to eat, and so did he. 
Balancing the tray with one hand, he placed the key in 
the lock. The sound of tumblers turning signaled the end 
to Aria’s confinement. 
Pocketing the key, Lore backed into the room, kicked 
the door shut, and feinted to the right. Nothing whizzed 
past his head. Empty-handed, Aria gazed at him with 
contempt. She was still dressed in the stolen clothes. 
He feinted again. She did not smile at the joke. If she 
wanted to sulk, that was fine. He shrugged and walked 
over to the table to lay her morning meal out. “I am sorry 
I locked you in, Mistress Aria, but under the circumstances 
it seemed best.” He continued to place food on the table, 
but stopped with a pitcher of morning wine. “Goblets?” 
he asked, unsuccessfully hiding a smile. 
Aria did not return the grin but bent to retrieve the 
cups from the floor. “For whom is my confinement better?” 
Walking over, she thrust them into Lore’s hands with a 
ferocity that surprised him. “You and Talon? Or for me?” 
“For all concerned.” Lore filled the dented cups. He 
noticed Aria’s eyes were rimmed in red. Her cheeks were 
raw and damp. “You have been crying.” 
Aria rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. 

“What did you expect?” 
A pang of shame pierced Lore, but he ignored it. What 
he did was for the best. No matter what Aria believed, she 
was not equipped to handle the unforgiving path Talon 
walked. Besides, he had promised his friend he would 
keep her safe. 
“Do my tears bother you?” Aria asked. 
Lore walked around the table and escorted Aria to a 
chair. Tossing a small square cloth into her lap, he placed 
a plate of food in front of her before going to his own seat. 
“I do not like to see women cry. Especially when I am the 
cause.” 
Aria took up an eating tong and picked at her food. 
“You can stop this by taking me to Talon.” 
“Perhaps, but I will not.” He bit into the still warm 
bread. 
Aria jumped to her feet, the cloth fluttering to the floor. 
“Why not? It is as much my right to find the Reapers as it 
is his.” 
Lore took a sip of wine. She was a fiery one. No wonder 
Talon’s feeling ran so deep and strong. However, the same 
spirit that had pulled her through tragedy could also get 
her into trouble. Trouble prevented only by constant 
vigilance. “You are not a Warrior, Mistress Aria. You are a 
Trancer. Can you wield a sword? Can you ride a rohha?” 
Aria sat back down with a thump, arms crossed. “No, 
but I can learn. Besides, with you and Talon by my side, 
I would not need to know how to fight.” 
“That is precisely why he did not want you to go. 
Warriors must be sensitive to their surrounding. We must 
remain vigilant or die. To guard another splits our 
attention. If you were with him, you would be a distraction. 
One that could kill him.” Lore raised his cup and sipped 
his wine, waiting for Aria to reply. He wondered if his 
speech made a dent in her resolve. 
The weight of her door’s key reminded him that if she 
refused to be sensible, he could keep her locked in her 
room. It was not the best alternative, but it would keep 
her safe while Talon pursued his quest. 
If only he could have done the same to Talon. 
“With my Trancer skills, I can tell you and Talon of 
danger before it arrives. I can read the currents and give 

the safest route.” 
Lore set his goblet down and leaned over the table. 
The ineffectiveness of his explanation was not a surprise. 
“Then we would lose our edge and later, when we traveled 
alone, we would be more vulnerable. Is that your wish? 
Would you sacrifice Talon’s future for the ease of today’s 
journey?” 
Aria shook her head, and two tears ran down her 
cheeks, dripping off her chin into her food. Lore’s heart 
twisted in sympathy. She is really a child. No matter what 
has happened, for all the horror, she is innocent. 
“Do not cry, Mistress Aria. Talon will return soon, and 
everything will be better.” He reached over the table and 
patted her hand, relieved when she did not pull away. 
“What if I try to leave on my own? Will you stop me?” 
Her eyes pleaded with him. Lore took a deep breath 
before he replied. “Yes, I will stop you. You are unused to 
the wilds. I doubt you have ever tracked a man. If I let you 
go, you will be lost by the next sunrise.” Her shoulders 
slumped, and he knew he called it right. “Aria, do not 
make me lock you in here to keep you safe. I have no wish 
to be so cruel.” 
“I will climb down from the balcony. Even you cannot 
stop that.” 
Lore pushed away from the table and walked over to 
the doors that opened onto the stone palisade. Pushing 
them wide, he walked over to the edge. Could she climb 
down? He skimmed the stone with a callused hand and 
smiled. The walls around were smooth with age. It was a 
straight drop to a stone court. Climbing down was not an 
option, and if she jumped, she would break her legs and 
possibly her neck. She was not that foolish. He walked 
back in, leaving the doors ajar so the sunlight shone in, 
brightening the room. 
Aria stood next to her chair, shifting from one foot to 
another, waiting for his response. 
“You will hurt yourself if you attempt such a foolish 
idea,” he said. 
Her nervous shifting stopped. Bending, she picked up 
the fallen cloth and dabbed at her eyes. “I am not as 
backwards as you may think.” 
“That is not what I think.” Sitting, he sipped his wine 

and raised the goblet to Aria in salute. “I think you are a 
smart, sensible, beautiful woman who is persistent as a 
Warrior when she wants something. I admire your tenacity, 
but wish you would put it to better use.” 
“Your opinion means little to me, Warrior.” Her hands 
clench into rigid fists at her sides. “I ask you one more 
time to take me where I want to go. Do not do keep me 
here against my will.” 
“I will do what I must.” He drained his wine. 
Aria sat back down and picked at her food some more. 
Silence prevailed, but not a comfortable one. Pouring 
another glass of wine, Lore took a deep draught, and then 
stretched his arms above his head, yawning. 
“Do I bore you?” Aria flashed him a sly smile, a knowing 
grin that spoke more than words. Lore’s eyes widened. He 
had seen a similar smile before—on Talon’s face when he 
bested an opponent. 
Lore shook his head. The room spun. He must be more 
tired than he thought. His arms fell to his side, heavy and 
useless. What was Aria up to? He tried to ask her what 
was happening, but all that emerged from his lips was an 
unintelligible groan. Unable to remain upright, he fell 
forward. His head hit the table with a dull thud. 
The conniving wench. 
It was his last thought before the world went black. 
Aria’s mouth fell open. She had not thought the drugs 
would act so quickly. Left over from Tarik’s birth, the 
powder did anything from relax the user to bring 
unconsciousness. She had poured it into Lore’s wine so 
quickly that she was not sure of the dosage. She ran to 
the other side of the table and shook the Warrior’s massive 
shoulders. “Lore. Lore, are you all right?” 
The only reply was incoherent mumbling. 
Aria held her ear to his back, hoping she had not killed 
him. He seemed to be breathing steadily. His heartbeat 
sounded strong. He would feel like a fool when he wakened, 
but he would live. 
Satisfied, she gathered the remnants of the meal and 
stuffed them in a sack. Digging through his pockets, she 
retrieved the key to her room, shut the door behind her, 
and locked it. Nobody would search for her until Lore 
wakened. He would eventually get out, but his forced 

confinement might buy her a little more time. It will also 
teach him a valuable lesson about locking people up, she 
thought, pleased with the small retaliation. She hefted 
the small sack to her shoulder. Now, all she had to do 
was steal a rohha, track a trained Warrior through the 
forest, and save her son. 
*** 
Aria stopped at the edge of the forest and dismounted 
with a groan. She had never ridden so far or so long. Still, 
it was only a day’s ride between herself and the Tower. 
Not nearly enough to feel safe. So, weak knees were the 
least of her worries. Ignoring her aching muscles, she tied 
her stolen rohha to a tree, running her untrained hand 
over its dull-colored hide. Its owner would be outraged at 
its loss. 
She was outraged that it was so uncooperative and 
ill-tempered. As if reading her thoughts, the beast whipped 
about and snapped at her. Aria snatched her fingers back 
before the creature managed to connect. She raised a brow, 
reassessing the owner’s reaction to the stolen animal. 
Outraged? Perhaps not. The owner would more likely be 
grateful she had stolen the cranky pack animal. A chuckle 
began deep in her gut, rose through her throat, and 
emerged as a howl of laughter. The beast lunged again, 
and she dodged away, but not before it tore her sleeve. 
“I think I shall name you Cossa.” She fingered the 
rent garment. “It is an herb that they give to children as a 
tonic. It is quite bitter and unpleasant.” The rohha laid 
his ears back. “I see it is a name you are familiar with,” 
Aria teased as the animal took another, final, desperate, 
but unsuccessful lunge. 
Still chuckling, Aria retrieved a threadbare cloak from 
her pack, being careful to stay clear of Cossa’s teeth, and 
carried it into the tall grass. Spreading the garment onto 
the cool ground, she lowered herself into sitting position 
and took a deep breath. An evening breeze pulled at her 
hair, rustling the loose strands. The breeze tasted like 
rain. 
No matter. She had a job to do. Blocking the 
surrounding noises, she let her head drop forward and 
relaxed her neck. Resting her hands palms up on her 
knees, she took a deep breath. Focused, nothing entered 

her consciousness but the sound of her breath as it 
traveled in and out of her lungs. 
She disconnected from her body. 
Thick with the life that comes from wild things, the 
currents swelled around her. Her first thought was that 
they were too crushing. Around her ankles and over her 
skin, they swirled like silk. Iridescent beams of light pulsed 
and throbbed with the rhythm of her heartbeat. From the 
newest blade of grass to the bird soaring overhead, all 
living energy vibrated, scattering power from one to 
another, connecting them. 
Aria breathed deep, inhaling the color, letting the 
vibrations fill her from head to heel, cleansing her. As the 
purity of nature replaced a corner of the horror that still 
haunted her nights, she breathed a psychic sigh of release. 
Here, creatures killed for need, not joy. Life was an honor, 
not a lesson. The beauty both shattered and rebuilt her. 
It was too much. Too overwhelming. 
She pulled out of the trance. Air whooshed from her 
lungs. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her chest heaved 
with exertion. She would have to be more careful. The 
forces were strong. Stronger than either at the Tower or 
her hometown. Was it because of the extent of life that 
surrounded her, or was it something inside her? Had the 
events changed her? Made her more sensitive? Aria tucked 
a stray hair behind her ears and back into her braid, letting 
the mass fall down her back. Whatever the reason, she 
would have to be more careful. 
Shutting her eyes, she delved back into the currents, 
mentally turning away before the forces overwhelmed her 
once again. Stretching her vision, she rose above the forest 
to look for the spark that was uniquely Talon’s. It would 
be like him. A dark light, hard to see and even more difficult 
to understand. It would be even darker now that he was 
on a quest for revenge. 
Nevertheless, there was still goodness within him. His 
sense of responsibility and duty glowed with the deep, 
bright light of a Warrior’s soul. She remembered it from 
when they joined. 
The joining. Its memory and its effects were a part of 
her now. She remembered how his spark had touched 
her. Like thick stone and hot steel. Like a soft blanket 

and a warm kiss. 
Enough reminiscing. She had to find him. 
Once again, she entered Trancer consciousness. Time 
was both everything and nothing as she flew over the 
landscape, weaving a path through the life forces. 
Watching the rivers of color, she searched for Talon’s spark, 
questing, and feeling for his presence. 
She sensed an intensity below. A distinct throbbing 
that touched her. A churning that drew her. Talon. She 
dove, swimming through color to see him as he bedded 
down for the night. She watched, mesmerized by the colors 
that emanated from him. Jewel-tones and black, the 
shifting and contrasting shades hypnotized her. A white 
light pulsed from deep within, shining through the dark 
for but a moment. She knew what it was—his love for 
Tarik, and it was so deep, so swallowed by pain of loss, 
that it broke her heart. 
She had to help him, could not let him be consumed 
by the anguish that ravaged her own soul. She had to 
find Tarik and show Talon that his son lived. 
Could she? Now that she was away from the wounded 
Tower, could the currents carry her to her son? Much 
time and distance stood between them, but the thought 
of a quick resolution and Talon’s pain drove her. She had 
to try. Up she flew until she was above the plains. Focus. 
The mountains called her. Through the currents she swam, 
soaring like light, faster and farther than she had ever 
gone. Tarik’s spark was not visible to her, but she knew 
he was close. A mother’s bond to her babe was invincible. 
A Trancer’s bond to her babe was unimaginable. 
Or so she thought. In a breath, a psychic wall loomed 
in front of her, stopping her. Darker than fear, it stood 
like a fortress in the currents, keeping her from Tarik. 
Angry and desperate, Aria reached out with psychic 
hands—-
And awoke screaming. 
By the Goddess, what was that wall? That barrier? 
She shuddered. Whatever it was, it was blacker than 
Talon’s thoughts and wider than the world. It was not 
natural. 
And her son was behind it. 
Still shaking, Aria uncrossed her legs and stood. 

Perhaps later she would be able to breach its depth, but 
not now. If she tried now, before she was ready, she knew 
the wall’s power could do more than keep her at bay. When 
they were closer and she was rested, she would try again. 
Meanwhile, she would follow her original plan and travel 
with Talon, keeping him from harm until she proved herself 
right. 
She stretched, groaning aloud at the stiffness that 
saturated her muscles. Cossa snorted behind her. The 
animal sounded both impatient with being made to wait 
and amused at her discomfort. 
Working in the moonlight, she managed to untie Cossa, 
pleased when the beast did not snap at her, and struggled 
up onto the leather pad that served as her seat. The rohha 
pricked its ears back and danced beneath her, making 
Aria wonder if it was anxious to be gone or annoyed with 
her lack of experience. No matter, it would adapt, and so 
would she. 
Grasping the reins in her hands, she turned Cossa in 
Talon’s direction. He was at least two suns ride away. It 
would be awhile before she caught up with him, but in 
the meantime, she could figure out she would do when 
she did. As much as she wanted to be by his side, until 
they were far enough away that it would be a greater 
hindrance for him to take her back than to keep her with 
him, she would have to follow him at a distance. 
With his stubborn nature, that meant trailing his path 
in silence for at least a few extra suns. It would be a test, 
of sorts, to see if a Trancer could fool a trained Warrior. 
The thought of succeeding made her feel both wicked and 
proud. 
*** 
Talon pulled at Cam’s reins as a new sound broke the 
silence of the woodland trail. Both rohha and rider stopped. 
Another thunderclap rippled through the air, and a splash 
of water struck Talon’s arm. Rain. It slipped through the 
spaces between the trees like a thief, small drops striking 
all things beneath the canopy of leaves. 
Reaching into a pocket sewn into the inside of his 
cloak, Talon pulled a piece of dried meat out and wrestled 
a bit off with his teeth. He pulled his cloak over his head 
and patted Cam’s neck, wondering if nature mocked him 

by reflecting his dismal mood. “Let’s go, my friend. I want 
to make Zaraza by nightfall.” 
The rohha tossed his head and broke into a trot. 
Zaraza. Home. That is, if anything could be called 
home. There were aspects of his life he would rather 
forget—things he had done before he joined the Warrior 
clan, things he was not proud of—and almost all centered 
on Zaraza. And Mako. No, he could not forget the dark 
city because it was the connection. His tie to the past. 
Zaraza and Mako. The memory of either left a bitter 
taste in his mouth. He would see one or both by nightfall. 
Would Mako be there, waiting for him? If so, then the 
confrontation would be over soon, and he could return to 
the Tower and Aria. 
But Talon knew Mako would not be so foolish. After 
such carnage, he would travel back to his fortress to let 
the wrath of the Warriors fade. A few raids for food and 
slaves, that would be all anyone would see of the Reaper 
leader for a few seasons. 
Then, confident in his superiority, he would emerge 
with his Reaper clan and commit more atrocities. 
And nobody wanted to stop him. Nobody wanted to 
prevent the death of one more child. 
Except me, Talon thought. And Aria, if I allowed it. 
Amusement lit his face, wondering how Lore was 
bearing up under the brunt of his Given’s anger. He would 
not be expecting such a fiery reaction from so petite a 
Trancer. Talon chuckled aloud as he envisioned the names 
Aria would heap upon Lore. She was much tougher than 
she looked, but still, the need to protect her drove him. 
He needed to keep her safe. 
Talon’s stomach turned, remembering the moment in 
the hallway when he had turned her over and found her 
covered with blood. His life had come to a halt in that 
dreadful instant in time. His grief had been so 
overwhelming that his heart had stopped beating in his 
chest, and he had wanted to join her. Perhaps it was a 
poor excuse, but he could not go through that again. That 
was why he left her behind. He admitted the truth to 
himself if to no one else. 
Cam tossed his head, and Talon peered through the 
confines of his hood to see a clearing beyond the edge of 

the trees. He pulled on the reins and gave a soft command. 
The rohha stilled, and both waited as Talon listened. Water. 
Not just the pouring of the rain, but the sound of rushing 
water greeted his ears. 
“That explains your reaction.” The rohha loved water 
and would swim given the chance. “Sorry, Cam, but now 
is not the time.” Talon stroked the damp, black mane that 
flowed from between Cam’s ears and down the ridge of 
his back. “We have a mission to complete, and from the 
sound, I doubt it would be either a pleasant or relaxing 
swim.” 
The rohha gave a snort, as if it cared more for the 
water than any mission Talon might have or any danger 
that the water presented. 
Talon patted Cam’s sleek neck. “Later. I promise.” He 
kicked Cam’s sides with the heels of his leather boots and 
guided his mount across the clearing. He stopped at the 
beginning of the bridge that crossed the watery torrent 
below. Flashes of river were visible between the wide cracks 
that separated the boards. Held together by taut rope, the 
rickety structure might hold the weight of a few rohha, 
but no more. 
Talon guided his mount over the bridge. Cam, a well-
trained battle rohha, picked a safe path across the boards, 
instinctively testing each before he set his full weight upon 
it. Both man and animal tried to ignore the water as it 
flowed below them, churning and white, making its way 
through the rocky ravine and down to the sea. Talon 
silently pitied those with a less trained creature. Between 
the swaying of the bridge and the sound of the water, 
most rohha’s would balk from the passage. 
Talon breathed an audible sigh of relief when Cam’s 
back hooves passed over the last board and both were 
safe on solid ground. “See, I told you the water was not 
calm enough for swimming.” Cam rolled a brown eye and 
picked up to a trot at Talon’s command. 
Ten spans from the bridge, the hair on the back of 
Talon’s neck rose. 
He was being watched. The person who trailed him 
was not visible, but he was there. Talon trusted his senses. 
Reapers? He unsheathed his sword. Scarred from battle, 
it was from a past he had tried to forget. A past filled with 

dishonor and rage. 
Still, the weight of the unadorned dull-gray weapon 
was familiar. Comfortable. It was perfect for what he had 
to do—especially if it involved a Reaper. 
Talon rode until the bridge was out of sight behind 
him. He stopped Cam with a nudge. Reaching around, he 
held a large hand over the rohha’s muzzle, a signal for 
silence. Cam tossed his head in understanding and did 
not make a noise. 
Dismounting, Talon tread silently back towards the 
bridge. Using the trees that surrounded him for cover, he 
watched through the downpour, waiting. From there, he 
would see if his follower traveled alone. If he did, then he 
would best him in battle and perhaps gain some 
knowledge. If not, he would slash the bridge bindings and 
buy time to escape. 
The thought of running from a fight twisted his gut. 
He ignored it. He could not risk dying in an uneven battle. 
Not now. Not when he had a mission to complete. Not 
while Mako breathed. 
His pursuer came into view. A lone rider, and only 
one, unless his friends were in hiding. Talon peered harder. 
From his size, the rider looked to be a young boy, but 
Talon could not be sure. The lad wore a mismatch of 
clothes. A Warrior’s leggings and villager’s boots. A cloak 
and blanket covered his clothes and head, but both were 
so worn that Talon had doubts that either sufficed to keep 
the lad dry. 
He watched in silence as the boy dismounted, and his 
rohha tried to dance away, pawing and pulling. Over the 
rain, Talon heard the lad shout at the creature, trying to 
force it to cross the bridge. Talon shook his head. The 
mount was too ill trained to make the crossing, and the 
rider was obviously too young to know better than to try. 
He was also alone. If comrades waited in the trees, they 
would be out to help by now, and not allow the escape of 
a good pack animal. 
The rohha pulled on the reins, but the lad held on. 
Goddess. He would have to help before either the beast 
or the boy was hurt. Sheathing his sword, Talon stepped 
onto the bridge and called out. 
It all happened at once. At Talon’s call, the rohha shied 

away and bolted back the way they had come. Caught off 
guard, the boy stumbled and fell towards the bridge’s 
railing. The cloak fell away from the lad’s head revealing 
long red hair. The sound of splitting wood and a woman’s 
scream rent the air, as Aria tumbled into the icy waters 
below. 

Eight 
“Cam! To me!” Talon’s shout was automatic, a trained 
response, as Aria fell into the pounding water. In the same 
instant, he ran towards her. The current carried her away 
before he reached the edge of the bridge. Judgment honed 
by Warrior instinct, he knew it would be a mistake to 
jump into the river after her. Her only chance was for him 
to ride ahead and pluck her from the rapids as she passed. 
It was not much of a chance, but it was all she had. 
In what seemed like a turn, but was probably just a 
breath, Cam galloped towards him. Showing no signs of 
slowing, he swept towards his owner. Talon grabbed the 
rohha’s mane and swung onto the animal’s back as it 
passed. Signaling Cam with his knees, they raced along 
the edge of the ravine. 
Leaning forward, Talon put his boots to Cam, urging 
the rohha to greater speed. At the same time, he grabbed 
a rope and tied it to one of the straps on his leather seat. 
“Faster, Cam,” Talon urged his mount. “We must get 
ahead of her.” The rohha stretched its neck and gave its 
master what he asked. 
Talon searched for Aria as they sped along the edge of 
the steep bank, focusing on the water that roiled below. 
Every nerve in his body sang with adrenaline. Where was 
she? The raging water obscured all. Was she under its 
surface and far ahead, or had he not reached her yet? He 
prayed to the Goddess for the latter. 
A flash of brown cloth and red hair caught his eye. 
“Aria!” Talon shouted her name, praying she heard it over 
the rush of water and would keep faith that he was coming 
to save her. 
Powerless, he watched as she bounced off a rock and 
disappeared under the surface of the water. 
His heart sprung to his throat. “No! Aria!” 
She bobbed back to the surface again, as if answering 
his plea. 
Sharp relief flowed through him, and he urged Cam 
on until they passed her. Cam flew along the ground. Talon 
visually scouted ahead, searching for the best place to 
stop and make a rescue attempt. 

His eyes widened. There was no place. The land sloped 
downward and ended, changing from river to air as the 
water flowed over a cliff. 
All options were at an end. 
Talon pulled back on the reins, and Cam came to an 
abrupt halt. Swiftly, Talon wound the rope around his 
hand, slid off Cam, and leapt off the edge of the 
embankment. 
The bitter-cold water enveloped him. Jerked and pulled 
by the raging torrent, Talon winced as the cord bit into 
his flesh. He bore the pain with a grimace, knowing the 
thin line, and Cam, were the only things keeping him from 
washing over the edge of the cliff and into space. 
He kicked as the current pulled at him. Muscles 
straining with the effort to stay afloat and sight blinded 
by water, he begged the Goddess for help. If he could not 
see Aria, he could not save her. If he could not overcome 
the strength of the current, she would plunge to her death. 
He pleaded for a miracle. 
Aria slammed into him, knocking them both under 
the surface. Arching and turning, Talon reached out and 
grabbed blindly, searching for her before she slipped away. 
His numb hands closed around a bit of cloth. He kicked 
to the surface, dragging Aria by her threadbare cloak. 
Both sputtered as they broke free, gulping fresh air 
into their burning lungs. Praying her thin cloak held, Talon 
pulled Aria closer until she was in his arms. 
“Hold on to me,” he shouted to make himself heard 
over the raging torrent. 
Aria responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. 
Holding onto the rope with one hand and Aria’s waist 
with the other, Talon jerked on the rope. “Cam! Pull!” he 
shouted. A rough tug on his arm and both moved upward, 
inching past the rock sides of the ravine as Cam dragged 
them towards the top of the wall. Aria’s grip around Talon’s 
neck tightened. 
“Do not worry. I will not drop you,” he assured her. 
With her head buried in his neck, she nodded, but 
her grip remained strong and unyielding. 
They reached the top. Solid ground. Talon’s sigh of 
relief echoed Aria’s. 
“Cam. Hold.” 

The rohha ceased pulling. Talon unwound the rope 
and rolled onto his back, taking Aria with him. 
He lay with her pressed against him. One thought ran 
through his mind. He had almost lost her. Again. 
Cupping her face with his hands, he stroked her lower 
lip with the pad of his thumb. 
“Talon.” She whispered his name, her breath hot 
against him, and he was lost. 
“Aria.” Her name was a prayer of thanks as he slanted 
his mouth across hers, and she returned the kiss. All 
gestures of tenderness gone, he took her mouth with a 
savage intensity, and her lips parted beneath his. She 
groaned, and he swallowed the small sound, taking it into 
his mouth and intensifying it with his own sounds of 
satisfaction. He pulled her closer, one hand tangled in 
her damp hair, and the other cupping her bottom. 
Aria shrieked and pulled away. 
His hand flew to the hilt of his sword before he opened 
his eyes. 
It was Cam. He was above them and had a lock of 
Aria’s hair in his mouth. Aria shrieked again as Cam 
yanked harder. 
It would be a horrible irony if Aria survived the water 
only to be slain by a jealous rohha. Talon held back a 
chuckle. “Hold, Cam,” he commanded. 
Obediently, the rohha ceased his tugging and waited, 
keeping Aria suspended by the red strands. She struggled, 
balancing on Talon with one hand and using the other to 
make a futile swipe at the rohha. 
“Hold still,” Talon told her. Reaching around her, he 
tapped the beast on the nose to show his displeasure. 
Cam’s mouth opened, and Aria fell against Talon’s 
chest, all pain gone from her expression, as well as all 
signs of passion. She rubbed her head. “I thought he was 
going to take my scalp off.” Aria shot Cam a look of 
loathing. The rohha simply tossed his head and trotted 
off. 
“No damage done?” Talon asked. 
She shook her head, and Talon lay back. A pang of 
disappointment at the interruption tugged at his psyche, 
but Cam’s interruption was probably for the best. Lust 
brought on by a near death experience was intense and 

satisfying, but it would complicate things. Besides, Aria 
was wet from head to toe, and so was he. They both needed 
the comfort of a fire and dry clothes. The comfort of sinking 
into each other was not an option, although his body 
thought otherwise. 
Later, he would thank Cam for his unintentional 
intervention and give him some extra grain. 
Aria settled against him with a contented sigh. Her 
life pulse beat against his flesh as he watched a bird 
soaring above them, casting shadows over their soaked 
forms. 
She finally broke the silence. “I almost died.” 
“Yes,” Talon replied. He closed his eyes and breathed 
deep, welcoming the small weight of her body, vital and 
alive, against him. 
“But I did not.” 
“No, we are both very much alive.” Aria shivered in his 
arms, her damp clothes clasping her body like a second 
skin. He tightened his hold, willing his body heat to warm 
her. 
She snuggled closer, her breath warm against his ear. 
His chest constricted as his body responded again. 
He gave a muffled groan. 
Aria rose up to look at him, balancing on her elbows. 
Her hips fitted neatly with his. “Are you hurt?” she asked. 
“No, I am undamaged,” Talon replied, his voice hoarse 
with need. 
“Then what is wrong?” 
Talon reached up and stroked Aria’s damp hair, 
willing his hunger to vanish. The fire within subsided at 
his will, but still waited, smoldering, ready to roar back to 
life. “Nothing is wrong. I am merely grateful we are both 
alive.” 
“You are not angry?” 
He shrugged. “I should be, and most likely I will be 
later on, but for now, I am relieved. However, I would like 
to know why you are here and not at the Tower.” 
Aria’s lips were pale with cold, but her eyes flashed 
fire. “You should not have left me behind.” 
“I did so for a reason. I had hoped you respected that 
enough to wait for my return.” 
“Do not talk to me of respect. You lied to me.” 

Talon winced at the truth. “You would not have let me 
leave otherwise.” 
“True,” Aria agreed. Wriggling out of Talon’s hold, she 
rolled away and into a sitting position with her legs tucked 
under her. “But we could have avoided this.” 
All vestiges of passion disappeared as Talon’s temper 
rose. “I can say the same thing. We would both be dry and 
warm if you were where you were supposed to be.” 
Aria’s eyes narrowed, and the corner of her lips curved 
downward. “I am exactly where I am supposed to be.” 
“You are a Trancer. Your place is with the Tower.” 
“My place is where I choose to make it. I may not be a 
Warrior, Talon, but this quest is as much mine as it is 
yours.” She crossed her arms, muscles tight, as if preparing 
for battle. 
Talon started to retort, but stopped himself before the 
first syllable passed his lips. He did not want to fight with 
Aria, and if he spoke his mind then they would be arguing 
until the rising of the moons. She was tired and needed a 
fire. He needed food and rest as well. With a deep sigh, he 
placed his hands under his head, crossed his legs at the 
ankle, and closed his eyes. 
He had fought in battle, killed men, and ended many 
a day covered in blood and dirt. But nothing had ever 
sapped the strength from his body like seeing Aria fall in 
the river. 
“Do not ignore me, Talon.” 
He opened his eyes to see her standing over him, her 
body shaking with cold despite her heated temper. 
“I am not ignoring you.” 
Hands on her hips, she stared down at him in obvious 
disbelief. “Then why are you lying there with your eyes 
closed?” 
His shirt stuck to him, clammy and wet. “I am not in 
any mood to bicker and fight. I would prefer the comfort 
of a fire and a soft bed to lying here in the cold and being 
scolded by the woman I rescued.” He shut his eyes again, 
annoyed. “When you are ready to leave, let me know.” 
The grass rustled as Aria knelt beside him. “Talon?” 
Her voice sounded as weary as he felt. His irritation 
dissipated as he reminded himself of her inexperience. 
“Yes.” 

“Perhaps you are right in that this conversation can 
wait.” Trailing her fingers up his arm, she stopped to tickle 
his ear before she reached his hand. Pulling it out from 
under his head, she kissed his knuckles, soft lips against 
rough flesh. “Thank you for saving my life.” 
He turned his hand over to grasp hers, and brought it 
to his mouth, returning the sentiment. “You are welcome.” 
He opened his eyes to see her smiling in spite of the damp, 
and his spirits lifted despite the situation. “Are you too 
tired to ride?” 
She shook her head. “No, but would it not be better to 
stay here? We can shelter in the woods.” 
With a Warrior’s ease and grace, Talon rose to his feet 
and pulled Aria with him. “We could, but there is a town 
up ahead. I planned to shelter there for the night. Can 
you ride that far, or are you too weary?” 
“I can make it,” Aria assured him. 
“Good.” Talon turned to see Cam cropping the grass 
at the edge of the trees, patiently waiting for his master to 
make a decision. “Cam, come,” he called. 
The rohha’s ears flicked up, and he walked over to the 
pair, pushing Talon with his soft nose. 
“He is a wonderful rohha,” Aria said and reached out 
to stroke Cam’s skin 
Cam rolled his lips back, baring his teeth, and Aria 
jerked her hand away. 
“He does not like to be called a rohha.” Talon ran a 
hand down Cam’s glossy black hide. “A rohha is like that 
mount you rode. Worn, ill-tempered and undisciplined. 
Cam is a Sorriia. Loyalty to me is part of his breeding and 
training. I trust him more than my brothers, save Lore.” 
Talon stopped stroking Cam. “Speaking of Lore, how 
did you manage to elude him? Did his charm and good 
looks not win you over?” 
“I shall tell you about it as we travel,” Aria said, her 
expression gleeful. “But be assured that if he follows he is 
far behind.” 
Talon’s brow went up. Perhaps Aria was more 
resourceful than he thought, but she was still out of her 
element and would have to go back. 
Even if he had to take her himself. 
*** 

Pungent, unwashed, and thick, the smell of the city 
roused Aria. Still half asleep, she almost fell off Cam before 
Talon caught her and settled her securely in front of him. 
“Where are we?” She held her cloak in front of her 
face, using the cloth to filter the smells. It did not work. 
She coughed, choking and gagging, as they passed a stall 
of fish. 
“Zaraza,” Talon answered, guiding Cam through the 
throngs of people. 
“Zaraza?” Aria tried to turn around, but only succeeded 
in sliding sideways. 
“Sit still,” Talon commanded, righting her once again. 
“We should have retrieved Cossa, then this—” She 
shifted in the seat. “—would not be a problem.” 
“Cossa is trained to pull a cart. I would not put my life 
in peril, much less yours, by using a beast that was not 
trained for endurance and bravery.” 
She remembered the look of sheer terror in the rohha’s 
eyes when faced with the bridge and the raging water. 
Talon had a point. 
“Then perhaps we can purchase one. A trained one.” 
“Perhaps, but even that would not be needed if you 
had stayed at the Tower.” 
After her rescue, Talon had mentioned that he would 
probably be angry later. It appeared that later had come. 
But his anger changed nothing. She was here with 
him, and she would not be dissuaded—especially by 
something as insignificant as the lack of a mount. 
Letting the cloth fall away from her face, she gripped 
Cam’s black mane in her hands, winding the long strands 
through her fingers. Remaining silent, she breathed 
through her mouth as they made their way through the 
crowded streets. 
“Stop gawking,” Talon whispered in her ear after a 
few minutes. “You mark yourself as an ouseta when you 
stare.” 
“What is an ouseta?” Aria whispered back. 
“An outsider. Someone who would be easy to steal 
from.” 
“What kind of place is this?” Aria spoke over her 
shoulder, making sure her voice stayed low. “Why did you 
bring me here? I thought we were going to a safe place to 

sleep. Not a town of people who rob those they do not 
know.” 
“No,” Talon corrected her. “I said was that it was a 
town, and I wanted a fire and soft bed. I never said it was 
safe.” 
“We should have stayed in the woods,” Aria muttered. 
“At least we would not have to worry about getting killed.” 
“Is this more than you bargained for?” Talon asked. 
“Perhaps the Tower looks more inviting now that you see 
the places I must travel.” 
Aria bit back a sharp retort and gripped Cam’s fur 
tighter, making the rohha toss his head and roll his eyes. 
Contrite, she murmured a word of apology and relaxed 
her clenched fingers, focusing her annoyance towards the 
true perpetrator—Talon. 
Holding onto Talon with one hand and the leather 
pad with the other, Aria turned sideways until she saw 
Talon’s face. Then, she hooked her outer knee over the 
horn on the leather pad, using it to help stabilize her 
precarious balance. “I am not so easily sent away, Talon. 
Do I seem like the kind of person who would run away 
from a threat?” 
“You would be wise to do so.” Talon’s voice was low in 
her ear. “Lore was one person, and he was only trying to 
stop you, not kill you. Do not think that because you 
bested him that you are ready for the road and all the 
dangers it presents. Zaraza is not a nice town, like your 
home of Lanai, or full of good people, like the Tower or the 
Keep.” 
She winced as his lips curled over the words, mocking 
her. “I know that I am inexperienced, but that does not 
lessen my desire.” 
His eyes narrowed as he continued, ignoring her words. 
“People here will kill you for your cloak. If you were not 
under my protection I can guarantee that you would be 
dragged into an alley.” 
“Which is why I travel with you.” She poked him in 
the chest with her finger, emphasizing her words. 
He grabbed her hand. “Stop it.” 
She pulled her hand from his and placed it on his 
chest for balance. It was bad enough that Talon’s temper 
raged, but it would do neither any good if she lost hers 

also. “Do you hope to scare me into returning to the 
Tower?” 
“No, I speak the raw truth hoping to knock some sense 
into your pretty head. I grew up in this city. I know what 
these people are capable of.” 
A memory from her joining with Talon flashed through 
her mind—an image of a short, wicked blade cutting 
towards her face. Aria shuddered and squeezed her eyes 
shut, banishing the vision. 
“Are you going to be sick?” Talon asked. 
The hopeful tone of his question rankled Aria. “No. 
My eyes sting from this rancid air,” she lied, keeping them 
closed. 
“That is my point. You must understand that where I 
go is neither clean nor safe. Anything can happen.” 
She felt, rather than saw, his hand wave through the 
air as he gestured. “These people are more of a threat 
than a river will ever be. Even one that ends in a waterfall.” 
Aria swallowed as bile rose in her throat, and another 
memory flashed through her mind. Talon and another boy, 
running through garbage-strewn streets. Running to 
escape. Shouts accompanied their passage. Cries of “Thief” 
and “Stop” overshadowed their frantic breathing as the 
pair scaled fences and ducked through doorways. 
She shuddered and opened her eyes, wondering how 
long she had been remembering. 
“Aria, do you understand?” 
It must have been more than a moment. “What was 
the question?” 
His eyes flared. “Zaraza is no place for inattention. 
You would do well to remember that.” 
“Yes, you are right,” Aria agreed quickly, hoping he 
would not ask why her thoughts had drifted. Her 
knowledge of him had made him cautious of her before, 
and she would not give him another reason to take her 
back to the Tower by reminding him of that fact. 
“I said that I plan to take you to an inn I know of. You 
will stay there while I try to find information on Mako.” 
“Mako?” 
Talon placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. “He 
is the leader of the Reapers who destroyed the Tower.” 
“What makes you think that?” Aria asked. 

“His banner was found impaled on the door of the 
Tower.” 
He knew who had taken Tarik, and he had not told 
her? She knew her mouth hung open, but it seemed of 
little consequence. Finally, she managed to speak. “Why 
did you say nothing to me about this?” 
“The knowledge would not have eased your grief or 
brought Tarik back. I thought knowing the killer’s name 
would disturb you more than was necessary.” 
The anger she had worked so hard to control erupted. 
“It was not your right to decide. Not your right at all. How 
dare you keep such information from me? I birthed Tarik 
and should have been told everything. Do you understand? 
Everything.” 
“It was in your best interest.” 
“I will decide my best interest. Not you.” Her voice 
shook with rage. “I am a Trancer as well as a woman, and 
you will treat me with the respect my station demands. 
Do you understand?” 
For a moment, Talon looked taken aback, but his look 
of apology disappeared behind the emotionless mask that 
Aria had come to know as meaning he no longer listened. 
“I apologize for upsetting you, but I still think you make 
too much out of such a small issue.” 
“If you had told me it would not be an issue at all.” 
Aria crossed her arms, holding in the anger and 
disappointment. He was so focused on protecting her that 
he crossed the line from helpful to controlling. “Your lack 
of faith in me is quite distressing. I survived the death of 
my Tower. Do not assume that I cannot manage a bit of 
knowledge. What I cannot—and will not—bear is you 
treating me as one would treat a child.” 
Talon shrugged. “I will consider what you have said, 
and again, I apologize for causing you distress.” 
Was he telling her what he thought she wanted to 
hear, or was he honestly contrite? His lack of expression 
told her nothing. “Accepted,” she said cautiously. “But 
under the circumstances, you cannot expect me to wait 
in a room while you ask questions. You need me beside 
you. I deserve to be a part of this.” 
Aria knew her plea was ignored even before he spoke. 
“I am sorry I neglected to tell you about Mako, but 

that does not change the current circumstances.” 
“I thought you said you would consider my words.” 
Talon scowled. “Your words change nothing about 
what I must do here. If I am to discover where Mako hides 
his men, I need to keep my guard up and my thoughts 
focused. People here will not want to talk to me about 
such things. You are inexperienced and will complicate 
matters.” 
“I can help you. I am a Trancer.” 
Talon scowled. “In Zaraza, you are a woman. A 
potential bed partner, nothing more.” 
Talon was from Zaraza. Is that all she was to him as 
well? The sliver of doubt pricked her thoughts, but she 
pushed it aside before the question reached her lips. 
Besides, it looked like the discussion was over as Talon 
pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, shadowing his 
eyes and signaling an end to the conversation. 
*** 
A painted sign, too worn to read, hung over the door 
of the shabbiest structure Aria had ever seen. This was 
where Talon proposed to leave her? With its sides bleached 
gray by the sun and the porch missing its railing, the 
building appeared abandoned. Still, Aria slid off Cam and 
stood at the base of the three stairs that led to the door. 
Behind her, Talon gave instructions to a stable lad about 
the rohha’s care. 
“Is it what you expected?” Talon asked as he walked 
to her side. 
“I did not know what to expect,” Aria replied. She hoped 
her doubts did not show in her expression. “Is it safe?” 
“Yes. I know the people here. It may not look like much 
from the outside, but they run a clean, safe inn.” 
Following Talon, Aria walked up the stairs and through 
the large wooden doorway. 
It was amazing. People of all kinds sat at tables eating 
and drinking. Women carried pitchers of drink and huge 
platters of food, distributing both as they navigated their 
way through the crowd. 
Aria’s gaze swept across the scene, taking in the group 
of men playing a game with rocks and sticks at the corner 
table. Another group cheered and shouted as two men 
wrestled hand-to-hand, their elbows on the table as each 

tried to push the other’s arm down. 
She had never seen anything like it. 
“Come on.” Taking Aria by the arm, Talon wove 
through the crowd and towards the back of the room. 
People parted before them, but most ignored the couple. 
Aria’s eyes narrowed as one of the serving girls stared at 
Talon with obvious desire. 
Aria gripped his arm tighter. The quick journey ended 
at the back of the large room where a beefy man in a 
stained shirt poured mugs of ale and glasses of wine. 
Talon pounded on the worn wooden bar top. “Hey, 
barkeep. How about some service.” 
“Keep your leathers on. I’ll be th—” 
The barkeep’s shout ended in mid-sentence when he 
saw them. Putting down his half filled mugs, he walked 
over. Grinning, the man clapped Talon on the shoulder, 
and the pair shook hands—wrist to forearm. “Talon. Glad 
to see you.” 
“You too, Barias. It has been too long.” 
“Where have you been? I heard some nonsense a few 
years ago that you had joined a Warrior’s clan.” 
Aria took a step back as Talon’s eyes darkened. “I did. 
For a time. But that time is over.” 
The barkeep shrugged. “Whatever. All that matters now 
is that you are here.” Barias shouted over his shoulder, 
“Hey, get some food over here for my friend.” 
Aria called up her nerve and stepped forward. 
“Hello.” She thrust her hand out. “My name is Aria.” 
The barkeep’s eyes darted from Aria to Talon and back 
again. “So, you finally did it.” He addressed Talon, but his 
smile and gray eyes never left Aria’s face. “You finally took 
the leap and found a mate.” 
Leaning over the bar, he kissed Aria on the cheek. 
“Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve got a good man. A little 
domineering but priceless in a fight.” His eyes sparkled. 
“I’ve also heard he knows how to keep a woman happy— 
if you know what I mean.” 
Aria face grew hot, and she knew she was as red as 
the wine. 
“Barias, quit teasing Aria and give us a room.” 
The barkeep smiled. “I have the perfect one with a bed 
large enough for whatever you might desire.” He chuckled, 

as Aria’s blush deepened. “I’ll even throw in dinner.” 
Talon nodded. “Thank you, but dinner only for Aria. I 
have questions to ask around town and will not return 
until late.” 
“No.”
Both men looked at Aria.
“No,” she said again. “I already told you that I will not
stay and wait while you search for news of Mako.” 
“Mako?” Barias frowned. 
Talon nodded. 
Aria watched as the two men reached an unspoken 
agreement. Barias nodded and pulled a key from under 
the counter. 
Talon took her arm. His grip was gentle, but firm. She 
knew her fight was lost, at least for the moment. 

Nine 
Iliana sat alone in her darkened room, the silence of 
the Reaper’s Keep punctuated by the jingling of swords 
and steel as the night watch made its rounds. 
With a sigh, she ran her hands through her shortened 
hair, smoothing it away from her face, both wishing for 
and dreading sleep. 
Because with sleep came dreams, and her dreams were 
worse than reality. In dreams, she relived the horrors of 
Mako’s raid on her Tower. In dreams, she watched as the 
Healer was cut down before her. 
In dreams, she left Aria. Betraying all that she knew 
to be good and right by abandoning her best friend. 
And each night, when she woke, sweaty and with the 
stench of fear on her skin, she wondered if she should 
have—could have—done more to save her people. 
She knew the answer. She had failed, and that was 
why she dreamed. 
Did Aria live? She hoped. She prayed. If Aria lived, 
maybe there was redemption for even her—a deserter of 
family and killer of Healers. 
She hugged herself, refusing to give in to the roar of 
pain. 
She wanted Aria to live so badly that she hurt with 
the want. Still, wanting did not make it true, and now, 
she had no way to find out. She was blind to the currents 
—deaf to their call —ever since Mako kidnapped her. Ever 
since she saved herself and let the others die. 
With a sob, Iliana stretched out and pulled the covers 
over her, hugging her pillow, pressing it against her chest 
to hold in the anger and fear that threatened to spill out. 
She listened, praying for rescue. Nothing. No shouts 
of battle answered her plea. 
The only noise was Tarik murmuring in his sleep, 
dreaming the dreams of the innocent. 
Innocence. When did that end? When had hers 
departed? Was it with the destruction of her Tower? 
Choosing her life over the Healer’s? The death of her 
friends? The loss of her talent? Was it like a parchment 
where she could point at it and say, “There, that line, that 

word. That is where my innocence died.” 
She buried her face in the pillow. Or worse, was it 
being slowly sucked away with each breath she took while 
in bondage, or each morning when she woke up still under 
Mako’s rule? 
She did not know. There was too much anger, too much 
fear, clouding her mind. 
The door swung open. 
She sat up, clutching the covers around her. 
“Having trouble sleeping, Iliana?” 
Goddess, help me. “No, Lord Mako.” What did he want? 
Was he here to claim her, as she always knew he would? 
“Why so restless?” 
She hugged the pillow tighter, trying to think of an 
answer, an excuse, anything to make him leave her alone. 
“I am nothing of the sort, but am merely contemplating 
the dark.” 
A deep chuckle floated over to her. “The dark? That is 
my domain.” 
The sound of footsteps approached, echoing like the 
pace of death. 
He sat next to her, the bed shifting with his weight, 
and she knew she would have done better not to have 
replied at all. 
“Tell me, what is it you want to know about the dark?” 
She scooted over to the far side of the bed, wishing he 
would leave but unable to speak the words—not with her 
life, and Tarik’s, in the balance. “Nothing in particular.” 
He followed her, sliding across the bed until he sat 
next to her with only the thin coverlet separating them. 
He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. 
Could he taste her bitter fear? She prayed he did not 
feel her shaking at his nearness. 
His hand brushed against her cheek. “Nothing in 
particular? Let me enlighten you. Teach you the ways.” 
She quelled the urge to pull away. 
Leaving her cheek, his hand traced a path to her hip. 
“What shall be your first lesson? Shall I describe to you 
how the dark can hold you like a lover?” 
She shut her eyes, trying to concentrate on her 
breathing, the rapid beating of her heart. 
His voice grew closer. “Or maybe I should tell you of 

its strength. How it can help you, give you power, if you 
but open yourself to it.” 
She knew he spoke not of the night, but of the dark 
within, and for a brief moment, she understood. 
Understood how anger could consume. How wrath could 
obliterate all the goodness within. No. The dark was not 
what she wanted. She pushed the dreadful, horrible 
thoughts away. 
He pulled her against him, almost into his lap. 
Would he take her against her will? She knew the 
answer. She did not have to read the currents to know 
what lay in store for her if she let him continue. 
The dark within Iliana flared into being. Her heart beat 
loud in her ears. How dare he try to take her? Seduce her 
with words of evil like they were a lover’s sweet poetry. 
The rage built, flowing through her like fire. She gritted 
her teeth, her jaw tight, as she fought her inner demons 
and pushed back the urge to either claw him with her 
hand or pound him into dust beneath her feet. 
She could do neither, not if she wanted Tarik to live to 
be a man. Instead, she pulled away, almost falling off the 
edge of the bed. 
He chuckled, his mirth as black as the shadows he 
described with such passion. “What is wrong, my sweet 
Trancer?” 
She managed to force an answer through her clenched 
jaw. 
“Nothing is wrong. Leave me.” 
“Is my company not pleasant?” 
By the Goddess, he baited her with every word. Why? 
What game did he play? She pulled the cover tighter 
around her. “I wish to sleep.” 
He pulled her closer, using the covers like a net. “I am 
not stopping you.” 
Anger won over judgment, and her hand shot out. 
He caught her fist before she made contact with him. 
She screamed a wordless, soundless cry and tried to 
hit him again. 
He caught her other wrist. 
“Let me go!” 
He laughed. A true laugh, not the evil murmuring he 
normally dealt her. “Or what? You will run away?” He 

pulled her closer, so close his every muscle matched with 
hers. “I could take you, Iliana. You know it. I know it.” 
“What is stopping you?” she asked through gritted 
teeth. If he was going to bed her, she wished he would do 
so and end the waiting. 
He traced a path along her jaw with his mouth. “I 
need you. Need your talent, and I know from experience 
that a Trancer taken against her will is useless.” 
From experience? Bile rose in her throat. 
He continued. “I am not a man governed by lust, and 
I am willing to give you awhile longer to prove yourself.” 
He stopped at her ear. “But I will not give you forever.” 
He rolled away. 
Relief rolled over her, binding her in its warmth, forcing 
back the rage. 
The bed shifted again as he stood and walked away. 
The door opened, and for a moment, the torch in the hall 
silhouetted him. “Make no mistake. You will be mine.” 
He shut the door behind him. She heard bolts click as 
he locked her in. 
Or did he lock others out? 
Either way, she was safe for a night. Safe from Mako. 
Safe from the other Reapers. 
If only she were as safe from herself. 

Ten 
Aria sat in the hip-deep bathtub, her temper hotter 
than the water. Exhausted from the day’s events, both 
she and Talon had laid down when they arrived in their 
room. She had meant to rest her eyes for but a moment. 
When she opened them, the sky was dark, and she was 
alone in the bed. 
His departure was not a surprise, which infuriated 
her even more. Her hands clenched, she struck the water, 
sending drops flying. 
“Mistress Aria,” the voice behind her chided. “If you 
keep that up I shall be as wet as you.” 
Aria crossed her arms over her chest. “I apologize, 
Marri.” 
The woman chuckled. “I suppose I would be angry if 
my man left me to go off on his own, but do not worry. 
Talon is a good man. He will return soon.” 
Would he? Aria wondered. Or would he use the 
opportunity to leave her again? 
The woman picked up the wet length of Aria’s hair 
and began lathering it. Aria closed her eyes with a sigh 
and leaned back, allowing herself to enjoy the attention 
despite her ill temper. The sweet scent of flowers filled the 
small room. 
“Have you and Master Talon had a pleasant journey?” 
Marri’s firm hands massaged Aria’s scalp. 
“Hardly,” Aria answered. She grimaced, as she thought 
about all that had happened in a single day. “I lost my 
rohha and almost drowned. Cam tried to pull my hair 
out. Talon does not want me with him, and now he is 
treating me like a girl fresh out of the village.” 
“Well.” Marri acknowledged the list of complaints with 
the single word. 
“I suppose,” Aria answered, feeling awkward at her 
outburst and the woman’s quiet, efficient conversation. 
Goddess, Marri probably thought her a whimpering 
weakling. 
Marri removed her hands, and Aria recognized the 
sound of water pouring into a metal pitcher. 
“Lean back.” 

Aria tilted her head, making sure no more complaints 
passed her lips. Clean water cascaded over her. 
“I’ll bring your dinner up after your bath so you can 
go straight to bed.” 
Aria sat up again and frowned. Dinner and bed? She 
pulled her hair forward and twisted it gently, squeezing 
the water from it. She had risen but a while ago, and she 
had no desire to return to sleep. How like Talon to make 
sure he was in control of the situation by planning her 
evening for her. Irritation tugged at her again, and she 
gave her hair an especially hard twist. 
“Will that be all right?” Marri’s voice interrupted her 
thoughts. 
“What?” 
“Bringing dinner up here?” 
“You mean I have a choice?” Aria asked, her voice 
tinged with sarcasm despite her vow to behave. 
“Of course. You are a guest.” 
“Talon did not tell you to keep me in my room?” 
Marri’s eyes widened. “No, of course not.” 
“How about Barias? He is Talon’s friend and will do 
what Talon asks.” 
Marri tossed her head, her blonde curls bouncing 
despite the pins that held it. “I am Barias’ bonded mate, 
and he knows that I would never agree to such a thing. 
This is an inn, not a prison.” 
Aria smiled, her anger dissipating as her planned 
defiance grew. If she were a guest, then she would act like 
one, despite Talon’s plans. “Please hand me a drying cloth. 
I will eat in the main room with everyone else. Who knows, 
perhaps I will make some new friends.” 
Marri handed her the thick towel, her smile sly. “I 
could use a bit of ale myself.” 
*** 
Talon let the door to the last tavern slam shut behind 
him. Aria was right. The people’s fears ran deep, and none 
were willing to talk about Mako for fear of retribution. 
Talon’s sword hung heavy on his hip. If he drew it and 
reentered the establishment, he could learn what he 
needed to know. He fingered the hilt but a moment and 
let the thought pass. He could not harm people for 
protecting themselves. 

Sounds from another tavern filtered through the night 
air. Briefly, Talon considered visiting it, but dismissed the 
idea. He could stop at every bar and brothel in Zaraza 
and would walk away with as much information as he 
currently possessed—which was none. 
He ran his leather-gloved hand through his hair. It 
was time to visit Ciella. A companion from childhood, now 
a prostitute by trade, she was a good friend and sometimes 
more. He had hoped to avoid her. He did not have the 
desire or the time for the games they usually played. 
Five streets later, he stood outside the door of a well-
kept house. He pulled a rope, and a bell rung inside. Within 
a few moments, a panel in the door opened, he heard a 
cry of delight, and the panel slammed shut. 
The door opened to reveal a small woman gowned in a 
frothy robe. Her black hair was loose and pulled to one 
side so it cascaded over her shoulder. Holding a candle 
and a smile, she ushered him in. 
She set the candle down on a table, flung her arms 
around Talon, and planted a kiss on his mouth, her red 
lips forcing his apart. 
Talon waited, stonily enduring the display of affection, 
until Ciella pulled away with a confused expression. “Is 
that any way to act?” she asked. “What is wrong?” 
Reaching up, Talon unlocked her arms from around 
her neck. “I do not have time for play tonight. I need 
information, and I need it fast.” 
She thrust her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. 
“Is your Warrior clan so demanding that you cannot spend 
a little quality time with an old friend?” She reached out 
to trail a long, red fingernail down the front of this shirt. 
Talon grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she 
reached the buckle to his scabbard. “I said I was in a 
hurry. I have a mission to complete.” 
“Really?” Her eyes widened in mock belief. “A mission. 
How fascinating.” She reached out and began undoing 
the buckle to Talon’s scabbard with her other hand. 
He pulled away. “Not this time.” 
“Why not? Is your mission a secret? One I will have to 
persuade you to share?” She ran her hands down her 
stomach and over her hips. 
Talon shook his head. “My mission is personal. I need 

your help.” 
Ciella’s lips went from an exaggerated pout to an 
equally exaggerated smile. “Personal?” She walked away, 
her hips swaying provocatively from side to side. “Come 
on, lover. I’ll help you.” 
“Ciella,” Talon called as she went down the hallway 
towards her bedroom. “I do not jest.” 
Her husky laugh echoed back. 
“Goddess,” Talon muttered in frustration 
The light from her candle disappeared as she rounded 
the corner and entered her bedroom. Annoyed, he followed 
to find her already sitting on the bed, her robe open and 
showing her shapely legs. She leaned back, resting on her 
elbows with the sash to her gown in one hand where she 
toyed with its tasseled border. 
She crooked a finger at him. “Come sit beside me.” 
Instead, Talon walked over to the fireplace and sat in 
one of the overstuffed chairs that rested before it. Its 
wooden frame groaned under his weight. How could he 
make her understand, short of telling her about Aria and 
Tarik? The loss of his son was still a raw wound, and he 
wanted to say as little about Aria as possible. Their bond 
was private, and it felt like a betrayal to discuss it with an 
old lover. 
Ciella laughed, low and husky, interrupting his 
thoughts. “Lover, why do you ignore me? Is that any way 
to treat the woman who has what you need?” 
Talon frowned. Since she became a prostitute, Ciella 
related to most men almost entirely on a sexual level. His 
relationship with her was different—more friendship than 
lovers. Still, the sex was there, or had been there, until 
Aria. Now, the desire for casual intimacy was as lost as 
his Warrior’s sword. “You are a beautiful, desirable 
woman—” 
“That is what I wanted to hear.” Rising from the bed, 
Ciella walked over to Talon. 
Talon continued. “And you are a good friend, but that 
is all you are. A friend. No more and certainly no less.” 
She shrugged. “That is all we ever were, but that does 
not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves. Why only have 
information when you can have this?” In a single motion, 
she pulled the tie to her robe and shrugged the garment 

off her shoulders to reveal her naked body. “You can’t tell 
me you are not tempted.” She straddled him, settling down 
in his lap. 
She ran the tip of her tongue over her full lower lip, 
her hands planted on his shoulders as she waited for Talon 
to make a move. 
“Ciella, get off me,” Talon said, his voice quiet. 
“Make me.” She wiggled her bottom, laughing. 
He silently cursed her trade. It shadowed reality with 
games, making both hard to define. He needed her to listen. 
“You are acting the whore with someone who has no need 
of such a performance.” 
The laughter in her eyes died as shock took its place. 
Without saying a word, she stood up and gathered her 
robe from the floor, pulling it around her slender form. 
He rose, feeling like he had kicked a child. He should 
have found a better way, better words, but need and time 
drove him. “I am sorry, but I must make you understand 
that things are different now.” 
“How?” Her voice was choked, and he knew she held 
back the tears she let nobody see. “I never felt like a whore 
with you. Never. Until now. Did the Warriors add celibacy 
to their many rules of conduct, or is it only to stay away 
from prostitutes?” 
“It is neither you or the Warriors who prevent pleasure. 
It is only myself.” He laid his hands on her shoulders and 
turned her to face him. “You are my friend. If 
circumstances were changed, I would spend the night in 
your bed. I am different now. My life is different now. 
Forgive me, but I had to make you see this.” 
Talon waited as she mulled over his apology, debating 
on whether to accept or deny him. She pulled her robe 
closer and tied it. The small smile on her lips spoke 
forgiveness, and Talon breathed a sigh of relief. 
“You are lucky we are friends. If any other man spoke 
to me in such a manner Kar would toss him into the 
streets.” 
Talon raised a brow. Kar was Ciella’s bodyguard, and 
although not Warrior trained, he was a master at street 
fighting. He was also as big as a rohha, and even Talon 
would think twice before a confrontation. “I thank you for 
your understanding.” 

Ciella acknowledged the comment with a nod. “I 
assume a woman brought this great change.” 
Was he that transparent? “Yes.” 
“Does she wait for you?” 
“At Barias’.” 
“Do you love her?” 
Talon hesitated, shaken at the abrupt question. Love? 
He wanted to protect Aria, care for her and even make 
love to her, but was that love? He was not sure he could 
feel that warm emotion anymore. Pain and loss surrounded 
him like a shield keeping all else out. “She is the mother 
of my child.” 
“Not exactly the answer to my question, but you always 
were close-mouthed, Talon S’Diro.” Ciella frowned. “What 
is her name?” 
Talon hesitated, but she deserved to know some of 
the truth. “Aria.” 
“Aria.” Ciella rolled the name on her red lips. “A 
beautiful name. What is she? A village girl?” 
“A Trancer.” 
Ciella’s jaw dropped. “You travel with a Trancer? Have 
the rules changed so much that Trancers and Warriors 
now follow the same path? What of her Tower?” 
“They are all dead,” Talon replied, grateful for a chance 
to turn the conversation away from his Given. “Which 
brings me back to my reason for my visit. I need 
information.” 
Ciella held up a hand. “Hold. I would like a glass of 
wine before I hear your story, and I think you could use 
one as well.” Walking over to a table, she filled two goblets, 
returned, and placed one of the cups in Talon’s hand. 
“Thank you.” He raised the ornate metal rim to his 
lips. The wine was pale and sweet on his tongue. 
Ciella went to the bed and patted it with the flat of her 
hand. “Now, come over here, and tell me what happened.” 
Talon raised a brow at where she sat. 
“I will not try to seduce you again. I promise. Before, 
I thought you were playing. A new love game for me to 
solve.” Ciella smiled. It was a smile Talon had not seen on 
her lips in a while. It was one of friendship, and nothing 
more. 
With relief, he walked to her bed and sat next to her. 

Ciella took the glass from his hand and set it on the 
bedside table. “Now, tell me of your Warrior’s mission.” 
Talon leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands 
clasped. “My mission has nothing to do with the Warriors.” 
“Really? I was not aware they offered that much 
freedom.” 
“They do not.” 
Ciella did not speak but picked up Talon’s glass and 
handed it back to him. He took a long swallow, knowing 
she waited for an explanation. “I am no longer a Warrior. 
I left the clan.” He winced at the disappointment in her 
expression. Of all the people from his past, she was one of 
the few he had told of his profession. 
She took a deep swallow from her own glass. “What 
can I do to help you make it right?” 
Talon shook his head. “Nothing. I yielded my sword of 
my own free will.” He remembered when he first presented 
his Warriors sword to her. Proud of him, she had marveled 
over its brightness and ‘aahhed’ over the ornate hilt. A 
beautiful sword for a beautiful man, she had said. 
What would she say now? Slowly, he pulled the Reaper 
sword from his scabbard and held it out in front of him. 
Ugly and dull, its only ornament was a single bloodstone. 
He turned the blade, looking down its perfect length. 
Ciella stared at the weapon in his hand. Her eyes 
narrowed. “Is that from before?” 
He sheathed it. “Yes, but that does not matter.” He 
was no longer the angry youth who challenged all, and he 
did not want to hear the lecture he knew was coming. 
What mattered now was information. Information that only 
Ciella could provide. 
Ciella’s full lips thinned at the indifferent comment, 
and she moved to speak, but Talon interrupted. “What 
matters now is that I need to find Mako.” He waited for 
her reaction. 
“Mako?” Ciella echoed, her voice querulous. 
“Yes.” 
“Why?” 
Talon rested his head in his hands, his fingers laced 
through his hair. Ciella knew Mako as well as she knew 
him and, in fact, had once pledged a vow of love to the 
Reaper. To hear of Mako’s atrocities was going to hurt 

her, but there was little other choice. “Mako attacked a 
Tower just over a moon ago. He killed all save a single 
Apprentice.” 
“Mako might be a Reaper, but he is not a butcher. He 
would never do such a thing.” 
Talon saw the denial in her eyes, plainer than any 
words she might speak, and he could not blame her for 
the disbelief. Mako used to be a decent man, if not a good 
one, but the illusions were over. He was no longer the boy 
they knew. 
Talon pulled the slender banner from one of the 
pockets on his vest. “I found this stuck in the door.” He 
offered it to her. 
Silently, she took it from him and opened it out on 
her lap. 
“He killed my son,” Talon continued. 
“Your son?” Slowly, she smoothed the cloth with her 
hand, flattening it. 
“Yes.” 
“I thought Warriors never knew their children.” 
“I did, or at least I would have, if he had lived.” 
“Oh.” Now wadding the cloth in her fist, Ciella twisted 
the black and white banner in her hand, winding it around 
her palms and unwinding it again as his words sank in. 
Talon reached over, his large hand covering her small 
one, stopping her. “Where is Mako?” 
Ciella stared at the banner twisted around her hand. 
“He killed them all?” 
“Save Aria. She was the Apprentice he left alive.” 
Ciella met his gaze, her eyes bright. “Why did he spare 
her? Perhaps he knew and held his sword at the last 
minute. Perhaps it was not even Mako who killed your 
son, but one of his men.” 
“It does not matter. They were under his command, 
and he bears the blame.” Perhaps Mako had known what, 
and who, he hurt. Talon would not put it past him. As to 
how he knew, Talon would ask—right before he killed the 
Reaper leader. 
“I ask again, why spare the girl?” 
Talon heard the hope in the question. Hope that Mako 
had a heart or at least some sense of goodness left. Goddess 
forgive him, but he had to crush that hope. He pulled 

away. “She had just given birth to my son. She almost 
died. I do not know why she was spared, but I can only 
assume they thought her already slain. She was covered 
in blood and only a whisper away from the Goddess when 
I found her.” 
“But she lived?” 
“Yes, but only by the grace of the Goddess, not Mako.” 
Talon hesitated and then made the final blow, cutting away 
Ciella’s hope. “He killed them all. Old women and young 
girls. Children. Would you sacrifice another babe to his 
sword? Would you let friendship blind you to what he has 
become? He is a beast that must be stopped before he 
causes more tragedy.” 
A sob broke from Ciella’s throat. The sound of 
someone whose heart was breaking. She unwound the 
banner, freeing her hands. Slowly, she stood, and with 
the cloth fluttering by her side, she walked over to the 
fireplace. 
She stared at the flames. “What do you want to know?” 
“Where Mako resides. How many men he has. 
Everything.” 
She threw the cloth in the blaze. It flared to life, 
consumed by the flame, then was gone. Ciella walked back 
to Talon. “I do not know much, but what I have is yours.” 
*** 
Talon opened the door to Barias’ tavern and hesitated 
as his eyes adjusted from the darkened streets to the 
brightness of the room. Stepping over the threshold, the 
combined smells of cooked meat, ale, and burning oil 
assaulted his nose. His stomach growled in response. With 
any luck, Aria had left some dinner. If not, then he would 
have one of the girls bring something up. When his eyes 
had adjusted, he entered the great room and made his 
way through the crowd and towards the stairs leading to 
the second floor and the array of sleeping quarters. 
A roar of laughter sounded, catching his attention, 
and he glanced to see a group of young men gathered on 
the far side of the room. Years ago, he would have joined 
them in their gambling, wrestling and bragging. He would 
have drunk until dawn and still found the energy to please 
a woman. 
Now, he felt old in both soul and body. His feet dragging 

with weariness, he made his way up the stairs. Another 
round of laughter sounded from the young men, he smiled, 
taking one last glance at the group. They were engrossed 
in something. Or someone. He caught a glimpse of red 
hair glinting in the light from the overhead candles at the 
same time the figure laughed. 
He squinted. 
It could not be. He leaned over the railing. A small 
figure stood in the center of the group, all but obscured 
by the height of the men. 
The group parted, and Aria came into view. In one 
hand, she held a goblet. The other rested on a young man’s 
leather-clad chest. 
With a growl, Talon spun on his heel and stormed 
down the stairs, two at a time. What in the name of the 
Goddess was she doing down here? He had told her to 
wait in the room. He walked past the bar, and Marri waved 
at him in greeting. She pointed towards Aria with a tilt of 
her head. “Your woman’s over there,” she shouted over 
the din. 
Talon did not answer as he made his way through the 
throng and past the crowded tables. He should have told 
Marri that Aria was a Trancer, and perhaps she would 
have kept a closer watch on her. 
Aria’s laugh cut through the noise, and he shoved his 
way through the crowd of men. 
“Talon,” Aria cried, raising her goblet to him. “You’re 
back.” 
All heads turned to look at him. Talon ignored them 
and took the goblet from her. Overflowing with wine, much 
of it spilled on his shirt. Ignoring the mess, he let it drop 
to the floor and pulled her close. “Why are you not in our 
room where you belong?” 
“Because,” Aria said and fell against him, laughing. 
Talon gave a great sigh of exasperation. She was as 
drunk as a Warrior on the first day of the Blessing Season. 
He mustered his patience. Men who could not hold their 
wine were annoying, but in his opinion, women were even 
worse. 
Taking her hand in his, he started to pull her though 
the crowd. “We are going to the room.” 
“What about all my friends?” Aria slipped from his 

grasp. “I don’t want to leave them. We’re having fun.” 
“Yes, who are you to take her?” 
In front of Talon stood a young man, his face full of 
youthful arrogance. 
“Her companion,” Talon replied. 
“So?” the youth barked. “That does not make her yours 
to command, and she does not want to leave.” 
“Right,” Aria said, and with another giggle fell back 
against Talon. “Let’s stay here. You can have a glass, too.” 
Talon growled again, and in one fluid movement, he 
picked Aria up and slung her over his shoulder. Her giggles 
jostled him. He ignored her. He had a more pressing issue 
in front of him—Aria’s self-proclaimed defender. “Tell me, 
boy, what is your name?” 
“What is it to you?” 
“I always like to know the name of the men I kill. It 
saves time in delivering the body to their families.” He did 
not have the time nor the desire for a fight. With his free 
hand, Talon moved aside his cloak, showing the blade by 
his side. 
The surrounding crowd grew silent, waiting like carrion 
eaters to see who would attack first. 
The lad did not flinch but straightened. “My name is 
Adrik, and do not worry about my family name, since I 
will win.” 
The boy had spirit. If he were not careful, that spirit 
would get him killed. “Tell me, Adrik, have you ever fought 
a man?” 
“Plenty,” the youth answered. He took a step forward. 
Carrying Aria, Talon matched the step with one of his 
own and closed the gap even further. The crowd mumbled 
in unison, and the wagering began. 
Talon ignored them and focused on Adrik. “Have you 
ever killed a man? Felt his life force slip through your 
fingers as your blade slipped through his ribs?” He gave 
the boy his most menacing stare, hoping to scare him 
into backing down. 
The boy stood firm, but hesitated before nodding an 
affirmative answer. 
Talon smiled. The boy lied. 
Aria whacked Talon’s back with the flat of her hand. 
“I can’t breathe,” she said, her voice muffled in his cloak. 

Talon ignored her and took another step forward. 
Adrik came to the bridge of his nose, but no further. 
His shoulders were broad but still had the thinness of 
youth. He was so close that the smell of his fear tickled 
Talon’s nose, and the tremble of the boy’s lower lip was 
obvious. 
The lad was scared, but he stood his ground and met 
Talon’s penetrating gaze. Talon’s smile broadened. 
“What are you smiling about, old man?” 
Talon’s left brow went up. Old man? The boy was as 
cocky as Lore. 
“Talon, he was just being nice.” Aria’s muffled voice 
called out. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she said and hit 
him again. 
Talon sighed. “Answer me this. Is she worth it?” 
The boy gave him a quizzical look. 
“She is drunk,” Talon said. 
“Perhaps, but she does not want to go with you, and I 
cannot allow you to take advantage of her.” 
“I’m not drunk,” Aria protested. “Put me down, and 
I’ll show you how not drunk I am.” 
Talon ignored the request. “She is under my 
protection.” 
“Then why does she deny you?” 
“Because she is stubborn.” 
“I am not stubborn,” Aria protested. “I just know what 
I want, and I want to stay here with my friends.” 
The crowd laughed in encouragement. 
Talon ignored her outburst. “Tomorrow, she will be 
appalled by her behavior, and I would save her from 
embarrassment. I swear by the Goddess that my intentions 
are honorable, and other than putting her to bed, she will 
remain untouched.” 
Adrik hesitated. “Why should I believe you? You carry 
her like a sack of flour, not a person. You degrade her 
even now.” 
The youth made a point. Talon set Aria on her feet. 
“Thanks, friend,” Aria said, waving at Adrik. “I was 
getting dizzy back there.” 
The crowd roared again, enjoying the drama. 
Talon pulled Aria close, but ignored the comments. “I 
pledge that I speak the truth. She will sleep at my side, 

nothing more. Now, let us pass or blood will spill.” 
“You claim honor, but are you sure it is not fear that 
drives you?” 
Adrik was cocky, untrained and probably deserved a 
beating. 
But Talon drew his cloak, covering his weapon, as he 
realized what this boy was—what he could be. Perhaps it 
was foolish, but the chance to give someone from Zaraza 
an opportunity to be more than a thief or a drunk 
overshadowed the desire for anonymity. 
Besides, he and Aria would be gone before any of them 
thought to use any information against them. 
“Positive. I have no fear of an untried youth and will 
be more than willing to kill you, if you so desire. However, 
I think your life would be better served as a Warrior.” 
The crowd grew silent. Adrik took a step back in 
surprise. “Me? A Warrior?” 
He had the boy’s attention. 
“Good idea, Talon,” Aria interjected. Swaying 
unsteadily, she slapped Adrik’s chest with her palm. “You’d 
make a great Warrior.” 
Talon shook his head, wishing Aria would shut up. 
“Go to the Tower that lies on the water four suns ride 
from here. Ask for Lore, and tell him that Talon sent you 
to be trained.” 
Adrik’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe you?” 
Talon shrugged. “You probably should not, which is 
good instinct.” He nodded towards Aria. “But why would 
a drunk lie?” 
Talon waited as Adrik sized him up and then took in 
Aria’s drunken form. “What makes you think I could be a 
Warrior?” 
“You are the only one who tried to stop me from taking 
Aria upstairs.” 
“That is it?” 
Talon saw the suspicion rise again in the boy’s 
expression. It pleased him. “Not because you stopped me, 
but why. You wanted to protect her, and that is admirable. 
If I thought you tried to stop me because you wanted to 
bed her, I would not suggest Warrior training, and you 
would be on the floor nursing your wounds.” 
The boy hesitated, then nodded acceptance. “His name 

is Lore?” 
“Yes.” Talon swept Aria into his arms. 
With a small bow, Adrik moved aside. “Perhaps we 
shall meet again.” 
“Perhaps,” Talon answered as he walked past Adrik 
and up the stairs. 
The laughter of the crowd followed him until he shut 
the door behind him. In less than five footsteps, he reached 
the bed and dropped Aria onto the mattress. 
More giggles ensued as Aria bounced on the springy 
surface. 
Talon pulled the blanket out from beneath her and 
tucked it around her shoulders. “Sleep,” he commanded. 
The night’s conversation with Ciella had wearied his soul, 
and he did not have the desire to deal with Aria anymore. 
He simply wanted rest. 
“No.” Aria pushed the blanket off. “I’m not tired.” 
“We have a long journey ahead of us, and you need to 
rest.” He put the blanket back. 
She wrapped her arms around Talon’s neck as he 
leaned over her. “Where are we going?” 
Talon removed her arms and took a closer look at his 
drunken companion. Her pupils were dilated and all but 
covered the green of her eyes. She was more intoxicated 
than he had thought. Between the battering her body took 
in the river and her wine addled mind, she would be 
miserable tomorrow. 
Perhaps the physical discomfort would drive her back 
to the Tower. He grinned at the thought. “We travel to the 
Broken Mountains.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he 
removed his boots. 
Aria crawled close and snuggled up next to him. 
“There’s only one bed.” 
“I am aware of that,” Talon replied. 
Her small hands reached to undo the fastening on his 
cloak. 
“Stop it.” Gently, he pushed her away. 
“Why? Don’t you want me?” 
Talon saw her eyes, dark and half-lidded, and her lips 
lush with desire. Her tunic had slipped off her shoulder 
revealing a patch of smooth skin that begged to be nibbled. 
His body responded despite his weariness. He groaned. 

Even drunk, she aroused him. 
Nevertheless, he could not take her. Not under these 
circumstances. 
The mattress shifted again as she righted herself. “I 
know you want me.” Her voice came from behind him, 
and she kissed the back of his neck. 
“I said, stop it,” he commanded again. 
No more drunken giggles ensued, only a husky laugh 
as Aria scooted around to sit beside him. Ignoring her, he 
pulled his other boot off and threw it to the floor. 
“How about I help take off the rest,” Aria suggested. 
Laying her hand on his thigh, she slid it upwards until it 
rested on his hardened member. 
Talon groaned again. “You are drunk, and I am not 
interested.” 
“Are you sure?” She rubbed his length through his 
leather leggings. 
Talon’s breath hissed through his teeth, and he jumped 
to his feet, knocking her backwards. “This has gone far 
enough. If you were sober, I would take you here and now, 
but I will not take advantage of you while you are 
incoherent.” 
“But I want you to take me.” 
“Would you say the same if you were not full of wine?” 
She nodded her head with enthusiasm, then abruptly 
stopped. Her eyes widened, and she gulped. “I don’t feel 
so good.” 
“Are you going to be ill?” Talon asked, remembering 
the first, and only, time he had drunk himself into 
blackness. Lore had held his head all night as he retched 
and then laughed the next day when Talon complained 
that birds sang too loudly and that the sun was too bright. 
“No, I don’t think so,” Aria said and gave a little moan. 
Talon unbuckled his scabbard and set both sword and 
sheath on the table. He would have to find something to 
set next to the bed in case she did become ill. He sighed. 
A thunk sounded behind him, and he turned back 
around. A smile curled his lips. Aria would not be ill. She 
had passed out. 

Eleven 
Aria opened her eyes to bright sunlight, groaned, and 
flung her arm over her face. 
“Ah, you are awake.” 
Talon’s words echoed like bells in her ears. She nodded 
and groaned again as the movement made her senses spin 
and ache. Had Cam danced upon her head last night? It 
felt as if he had. Moving as slowly as possible, she pulled 
the covers over her, blocking out the world. 
The thin blanket was jerked back off. “It is time to 
rise.” 
Still curled up, wanting desperately to go back to sleep, 
she managed to open her eyes. Talon stood at the side of 
her bed, already dressed. 
“It is time to leave.” 
She noticed one of his packs was flung over his 
shoulder. “Where are we going?” Her voice sounded rough. 
She ran her tongue over her teeth and shuddered. It 
seemed as if Cam had not only danced on her head but 
had also bathed in her mouth. 
“There is a Tower a short distance from here. I am 
taking you there until this matter with the Reapers is 
resolved.” He stared down at her. His left foot tapped 
impatiently. 
Aria bolted upright. A yelp of suffering escaped her 
lips before she could suppress it. “No. I travel with you. 
Once, you gave me your word. Now I hold you to it” 
Talon shook his head. “That was on the condition you 
would not be a hindrance.” 
“I will not be.” She held her head in her hands. 
The tapping stopped. “You already are. I am ready to 
leave and have no time to deal with a wine-sickened 
woman.” He turned away. “On second thought, stay here. 
I will have Barias take you to the Tower when you are able 
to travel.” 
“Wait.” 
He turned back. 
She had not broken their bargain. Not yet. All she had 
to do was get up, get dressed, and spend the day on a 

rohha that loathed her. Another shudder shook her. It did 
not matter. “Give me my clothes, and I will be ready to 
travel in a few moments.” 
Talon gave a snort of amusement. “You are wearing 
them.” 
Aria saw she was dressed in her stolen leggings and 
tunic. She ran a hand through her hair and found it a 
tangled mess. What had happened last night? Why was 
she still dressed? Searching her memory, she found 
nothing but a blur of events. “What happened?” 
“You drank too much wine.” He shot her a smug, 
knowing, grin. “I found you surrounded by young men 
and quite happy with the attention.” 
She had never been addled before, but she had seen 
others in such a state. The hot blush of embarrassment 
heated her cheeks, and she wanted to crawl back into the 
comfort of the bed and hide. She did not. Instead, her 
mother’s words echoed in her head, No one ever died from 
embarrassment. 
Unfortunately, her mother was right. One only wanted 
to die. Ignoring the emotional discomfort, she replied, “My 
head is clear now, and while I may be uncomfortable, I 
am ready to leave.” 
Talon’s dark brows rose in disbelief. “Yesterday, you 
were dumped in a river, rode all day, and drank too much. 
You cannot walk this morning, much less ride. Perhaps 
you think you can, but I know from experience that you 
will slow me down.” 
He wanted her gone. Well, he would be greatly 
disappointed. “I will manage,” she replied through gritted 
teeth. 
Talon sighed and ran both hands over his hair, 
smoothing it back even though it was already bound 
behind him. “You do not know what you say. It will be a 
harsh ride. We will not stop until the evening.” 
She met his gaze. “I said I can do it.” 
He dropped to a chair and leaned forward, elbows on 
knees, his expression earnest. “Do not pursue this. You 
are in pain, and I cannot bear to see you hurt. Let me take 
you to a Tower. When this business is over, I will come 
back for you. I swear it.” 
Aria shook her head. No matter how her head ached, 

she would not let Talon do this alone. She had made a 
promise to herself and their son. For that, a day of 
discomfort was but a small price. 
He continued, “You have already been through much. 
I know you must have the favor of the Goddess, or you 
would not be alive. What will you do when her favor ends?” 
Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his forearm. 
“Whatever I must.” 
Talon stared at her hand as if it held the secret to life 
itself. “I ask you again, will you let me take you someplace 
safe?” 
“No.” Perhaps she did have the favor of the Goddess. 
Perhaps not. It did not matter. She had vowed to help 
Talon and find Tarik, and she would do so. The Goddess’ 
will be done. She would follow her path to its end. 
His sprang to his feet, tipping his chair backwards. 
“You cannot move without wincing. How do you expect to 
sit on Cam all day? I do not have time to humor you.” 
“I will manage.” Some of what he said was true. With 
her state of body, the ride would be torture. But if she 
proved herself, maybe he would cease his relentless 
campaign to leave her behind. “Talon, if I ride all day with 
not a single complaint passing my lips, will you take me 
with you without a word of complaint passing yours?” 
She saw her challenge sparked him. He took in her 
disheveled clothes, and what she was sure was a pallid 
complexion and dull hair. She did not have to be a Trancer 
to know his thoughts. He thought the wager already won. 
He would learn just how wrong he was. 
“As you wish,” Talon replied, accepting her challenge. 
Underneath his words was the self-satisfied sound of 
victory. 
****** 
Cam stumbled, came down hard on his front foreleg, 
and recovered with a jolt. Aria stiffened, a muffled cry 
emerging from her lips. Talon stiffened as well, fighting 
his natural instinct to halt Cam and ease her suffering. 
She had been sitting in front of him since daybreak, 
and then again after the midday meal. He knew the 
position was awkward and uncomfortable under the best 
of circumstances. She shifted in an attempt to make herself 
comfortable, and once again, the urge to take her into his 

arms assailed him. 
He ignored it. 
She settled at last, leaning back against him. With an 
internal sigh of relief, he glanced at her. Trying to rest, 
her eyes were closed, but her expression was far from 
relaxed. Her jaw was set. Lines of strain marred her smooth 
forehead, and her expression grew tighter with each step. 
However, other than her earlier startled cry, she made no 
noise. Not a whimper. Not a sob. 
Why did she not stop this? Why go through this torture 
if it were preventable? He knew she thought him wrong 
about Mako, wrong about Tarik, but why pursue it in this 
manner? If she would just listen to reason and let him do 
what he must, then she would have her answers. She 
would know the truth. 
Why did she have to be so stubborn? 
Her hands caught his attention. Clenched into tight 
fists and resting on the tops of her thighs, a trail of blood 
trickled from between her fingers where her nails dug into 
her delicate skin. 
The reality of the situation struck him, imbedding itself 
all the way down to his bones. She was not going to give 
in. She wanted to help him, and she would, regardless of 
anything he said or did, regardless of the danger. He cursed 
himself for thinking victory would be either easy or fast, 
and for ignoring his instincts. He held a piece of Aria inside 
his heart, and because of that, he knew she was more 
stubborn and stronger than anyone imagined. 
He had known it and ignored it. 
Now, what to do? 
There were few options. Keep her close or take her to 
a Tower and leave her? 
The latter was the most pleasing choice. She would be 
safe, and he could focus on the job at hand. 
However, it would not work. If he left her behind, she 
would simply follow him again. 
He would have to take her with him. She would slow 
him down, as well as split his caution, but the situation 
seemed unavoidable. 
Besides, he had accepted her wager—something he 
would not do so readily again. 
Cam stumbled again. A drop of blood formed on Aria’s 

bottom lip where she bit it to keep from crying out. Talon 
grimaced. It was time to end this charade. If she were 
going to journey with him, it would be in both their best 
interests to make sure she remained healthy. 
He signaled Cam to go into the trees. 
Aria straightened and looked over her shoulder at him, 
her green eyes wide. “Where are we going?” Her voice rose 
in panic. “You gave your word that if I rode without 
complaint you would not take me to the Tower.” 
Talon put an arm around her. The flat of his hand 
rested on her stomach as he held her against him. “We do 
not go to the Tower. We go to make camp.” 
“Camp? The day is not over.” 
“I know,” he replied. “I also know that you would 
continue without a word of protest, win the bet, and then 
collapse tomorrow.” 
She stared at him in disbelief. “So, I win?” 
“Yes.” Talon chuckled. “I concede the victory. You win.” 
She nodded, but the strain around her eyes remained. 
Without a word, she leaned into him once more. 
Talon knew he was right in his assessment. She was 
beyond fatigue and hanging on by sheer determination of 
will. 
Would Tarik have had her strength of will? Talon’s 
fingers tightened around Cam’s reins, and he forced the 
uninvited musings from his mind. At present, it was 
essential that he concentrate on Aria. 
Revenge would come soon enough. 
They moved deeper into the woods, and within 
moments, the trees surrounded them. Light, filtered green 
by the thick covering of leaves overhead, barely lit the 
forest floor. Talon squinted at the shadows, ever vigilant 
to an ambush. However, as Cam picked his way through 
the trees, no one crossed their path. 
Soon, the sound of running water broke the air. The 
rohha moved towards it before Talon gave the command. 
“I see your penchant for water overrides even my will.” 
Dropping the reins, he let Cam guide himself. 
The forest opened ahead of them. Using the flat of his 
sword, Talon lifted the mossy vines from their path, and 
they rode out into a small, open glade. 
“Goddess,” Aria uttered in awe. 

Talon echoed her sentiment. 
They had found the source of the water. It was a small 
stream and across from it was a statue of the Goddess 
herself. Carved in pale stone and three times as high as 
Cam, she sat under a canopy of trees. With her eyes closed 
and her hands carved palms up and resting on her knees, 
she assumed the pose of a Trancer. 
Behind her lay a building carved from the same pale 
stone and covered in vines, a massive structure that stood 
forgotten and neglected. 
“It is most remarkable. What do you think it is? A 
temple?” Despite the brightness of her voice, Aria’s eyes 
remained dulled by the fatigue she fought so hard to hide. 
Her bravery broke him. A temple. A palace. It did not 
matter, not when Aria suffered. Signaling Cam, Talon sent 
the rohha splashing through the stream, not reining in 
the great beast until they stood at the base of the stairs. 
Talon slid off Cam’s back then tugged at Aria’s leg. She 
fell into his arms with a small “oof.” He set her on her feet. 
Both stood silent, overwhelmed by the temple’s power. 
It was obvious that this place was holy. It was not just 
that the stone Goddess protected the area, but it was the 
building itself. It remained intact and sealed from the 
world, wooden doors and shutters closed, despite the forest 
that surrounded it. 
It also emanated a strength and quality that even Talon 
sensed. 
In unison, they stepped forward. 
Graceful columns arched towards the sky, their bases 
carved with stories and scenes. The walls were just as 
ornate and inlaid with colored stone. He recognized a scene 
to the left of the entrance. The Silver Maiden, her hair 
imbedded with iridescent shell, and the Warrior lay under 
the moons, legs intertwined. Her back was arched, and 
his sword was in his hands, completing the Given 
ceremony. 
“I am not sure we should enter.” Aria broke the silence. 
“This place is of the Goddess.” 
Talon hesitated. As holy as the temple was, Aria needed 
rest. The Goddess would understand. “She brought us 
here,” was his reply as he led Aria to the stairs. 
She stumbled, falling to her knees. 

She is too brave for her own good, Talon thought. 
Without a word, he swept her into his arms, grateful that 
she was too tired to protest or struggle as he carried her 
to the landing. 
He stopped at the wooden entrance. Would it open, 
and was the temple safe? He took a moment to listen to 
his instincts. No one was coming back. This place, for all 
its power, also had the air of a building long empty. Nothing 
would bother them here. Still holding Aria, he pushed the 
latch with his thumb. The wooden door swung open. 
Talon walked through and stopped at the surprising 
brightness that greeted them. A large glass dome, three 
times the width of a man, was centered on the roof, 
allowing light to filter in. 
The room itself was empty. No chairs. No tables. 
Nothing other than a large pool, still full of water, that cut 
a round patch from the middle of the floor. 
Still, the empty space, with its pale walls and equally 
pale-colored floor, emitted a sense of simplicity rather than 
bleakness. The only hint of color was the mural painted 
on the far wall. 
His footsteps echoing off the walls, Talon walked across 
the floor to see it. A continuation of the carving by the 
door—the mural continued the tale of the Silver Maiden 
and the Grey Warrior. From left to right, it flowed from 
their secret meetings, to his battle for her hand, and their 
bonding ceremony. 
It was a story all knew well, and it made him think of 
when he had first met Aria. He gazed at her. 
Smudged and sleepy, his own Maiden, not of silver 
but of flame, rested in his arms, more beautiful than a 
carving and warmer than stone. The light from above 
illuminated her hair like fire in the dim. 
She sneezed. 
She was also going to become ill if she did not rest 
and eat. He set her on her feet. “Wait here.” 
She nodded, not arguing. He hurried outside and 
relieved Cam of his load, telling the rohha to rest and 
stand guard. 
When he came back through the door, he found Aria 
sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet in the water, and a 
real smile on her lips. 

Talon set the supplies near a wall and walked over. 
Pale blue and white tiles covered the bottom of the pool 
and continued up the walls in a simple spiral design. The 
water was as clear as if it were just poured from a pitcher. 
Kneeling, he ran a hand through it. It was warm. The 
builders of this temple must have been skilled. Or blessed. 
Or both. 
“Do you think it would be safe to take a bath?” Aria 
asked. 
He doubted she would ever be safer than in this holy 
place. “Take your bath, and I will prepare a place for you 
to rest.” He stood, walking to unpack his gear and prepare 
a place for Aria. 
The sound of her tunic falling to the floor caught him 
off guard, but he did not turn around. Instead, he opened 
a blanket and spread it on the ground, ignoring her sounds 
of satisfaction as she slipped into the warm water with a 
splash. 
Another sigh echoed off the stone walls. He glanced 
over his shoulder. Floating on her back, she pushed herself 
away from the wall—her scarlet locks a sharp contrast to 
the blue of the water and the ivory shade of her skin. 
She looked like bliss, like redemption. He would sell 
his soul to make love to her. 
It was not to be. Now was not the time. 
He returned to his work. 
Why not? 
This was not the place. 
Of course it is. 
The voice echoed in his head, unfamiliar, unwanted, 
and not his own. Yet, far from disturbing, it soothed him 
in a familiar way—like a mother’s voice telling her small 
child that it is was all right to take the leap. That if he 
jumped off the cliff, she would catch him. 
He wanted to. He wanted to leap into the unknown 
waters of his own soul. He wanted to love Aria again, to 
show her the part of him he kept hidden. 
But she was as tired as a Warrior after battle, and he 
had other duties. No matter what the voice said, love would 
have to wait. 
No excuses, Warrior. Not here. Not in MY temple. 
A rush of heat surged through him, laying bare his 

soul. 
Go to her. 
Talon shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was in 
the pool. 
*** 
Aria floated in the water, finding peace for the first 
time in days. She pulled her hands over the surface. The 
movement sent her towards the pool’s far wall. Bumping 
against it with her feet, she pushed off with a gentle shove 
and floated back to the center of the pool. 
The water was amazing—invigorating and relaxing at 
the same time. Life giving, it filled her with an energy. It 
was also as warm and comforting as the womb. 
Soothed, she let her mind relax. Not Trancing, not 
thinking, but just being one with the blue liquid that 
surrounded her with its tranquility. 
She wished she could share it with Talon. 
You can. 
Truly? She was not so sure anymore. It was almost 
four seasons since they joined, and Talon had yet to 
express any deep emotion for her. Perhaps the joining was 
gone, never to be experienced again. 
Her heart wanted to break at the thought. With or 
without the joining, to never experience the depth of Talon 
again was unbearable. 
How could she have been so wrong? 
Do not doubt, Trancer. Your talent is true. 
Sisterly and reassuring, the voice soothed her, but was 
it right? 
The water rippled, and a small wave lapped over her 
face. She stood up sputtering. 
Still in his clothes, Talon stood in the hip deep water, 
waiting, as if wearing his clothes to swim were a natural 
occurrence. What did he wait for? 
He waits for you just as you wait for him. 
Talon’s eyes, free from pain, reflected his hunger for 
her. His lips curved up in an unguarded, almost 
vulnerable, smile. In a gesture so tender it made her cry, 
his hand reached out and smoothed her wet hair away 
from her cheek. 
“No tears, Aria,” he whispered. “Not here. Not now.” 
She nodded. He was right. 

The voice was right. 
Tonight was about emotion. About tenderness. About 
love. About that which both Talon and she craved, but of 
which they dare not speak. She took a step towards him 
and placed her hand upon his chest. Although still covered 
in cloth, every muscle, every ripple of flesh burned itself 
into her palm. His need was as tangible as the water—as 
eternal as the Goddess. 
Shivering, she responded in kind. She wanted to bite 
and taste the sweetness of his need like ripe fruit on her 
tongue. 
His eyes never leaving hers, Talon took her hand in 
his and placed a kiss inside her palm. 
Aria’s world shifted. Her senses sang and danced. 
He turned her hand over in his and grazed her 
knuckles with his mouth. He wanted her. He wanted to 
share that which few ever experienced. He wanted to join 
with her. She knew it in her heart and her body. She knew 
it by the currents that surrounded them, and by the way 
the Goddess spoke to her of bonding and comfort. 
Protection and passion. 
Aria shut her eyes. So much had happened since the 
Reaper’s massacre that neither she nor Talon had 
considered making love, but now images bombarded her. 
Like the mural at the door, she imagined herself 
intertwined with her Giver, her legs wrapped around his 
hips. 
And like the lovers of legend, she wanted more. She 
wanted to go beyond the boundaries of society and beyond 
the boundaries of her heart. 
Could Talon read her thoughts? Could he taste her 
desire as she tasted his? Did he hear the Goddess as she 
did—her holy voice urging them towards destiny? 
Working his way down her hand, Talon bit the inside 
of her wrist. 
Aria opened her eyes and found her answer in his erotic 
expression. He wanted her more with every passing breath. 
As much as she wanted him. 
In unspoken agreement, she met his mouth halfway, 
her arms twining around his neck as they tasted each 
other, reveling in each other’s touch for the first time since 
the Given ceremony. For the first time since the loss of 

their child over a moon ago. 
He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue then 
drew a path along her lower jaw, savoring her like a sweet, 
until he reached her ear. “Aria.” 
Her name was more than a name. She heard the 
question in it. All the questions. Did she love him? Was 
she angry that he failed to save her Tower, her friends, 
and her family? Would she let him love her? 
She ached with the sincerity of his emotions, with the 
honesty of his desire. She nuzzled his jaw and whispered, 
“Talon.” It was the answer he needed. 
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her 
closer. With a gentle, yet possessive touch, he bit her neck, 
claiming her. 
Desire pulsed through her, and she pulled at him, 
wanting to touch him. 
“More.” 
Was that her voice or his? It did not matter, and he bit 
her again—a katah’ claiming his mate. With a moan, she 
stepped back. She needed his skin. She needed his flesh 
pressed against her. No, pressed into her. With trembling 
fingers, she tugged at his shirt, trying to pull the wet 
garment free from his body. He reached up and stilled her 
frantic hands, kissing them again. “Let me,” he whispered. 
She did not answer, but nodded. 
He pulled the wet shirt over his head and flung it. It 
landed on the floor next to the pool. He did the same with 
his boots. Next, he unbuckled his wet leathers and forced 
them down. Pushing them off with his feet he stepped out 
of them. 
Glory to the Goddess, but he wanted Aria. 
Taking a deep breath, Talon sank to his knees in front 
of Aria, resting his head against her stomach while she 
tangled her hands in his hair. He stroked one of the thin 
white lines that proclaimed her motherhood then planted 
a tender kiss on it. She had bore his son in silence, never 
telling him. That would not happen again if she became 
heavy with child. This time, he would stay with her and 
celebrate each moment, each sign of the child within. 
Each blessed change in his Given. 
“Your will be done, my Goddess,” he whispered, not 
knowing or caring if he spoke to the Goddess herself or to 

Aria. He kissed Aria’s skin, savoring the stray drops that 
dotted her flesh like tiny crystals. His hands stroked her, 
kneading and massaging, working their way from her 
shoulders to her knees and back again. 
She responded with a deep sigh, and he sensed her 
desire for more, felt it in his blood. With her hands still 
tangled in his hair, he tilted his head up, his tongue leaving 
liquid crystal for the hard pink peaks that topped her 
breasts. 
Pulling a nipple into his mouth, he caressed, savoring 
the sensation as it hardened between his teeth, relishing 
the sweet turmoil he knew he caused in Aria’s body. 
Unhurried, he traced a path with the tip of his tongue to 
lavish the other breast with the same attention. 
Aria’s hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, 
holding and pushing at the same time, as if the torture 
was too unbearable to continue, but even more unbearable 
to stop. Grinning, he rubbed a hard peak between thumb 
and forefinger. She flung her head back as a cry ripped 
from her throat. 
He smiled, loving the sounds of her passion. He wanted 
to make her moan and want and scream until she was 
breathless. He wanted her wild. Wanted to join with her 
both body and mind. 
He wanted what they had had before. The joining. 
With only Aria’s breathing and the calm lap of the 
water for sound, he left her breasts, anxious to savor more 
of her. With exquisite slowness, he kissed her bare skin 
again, first her stomach, then her sides as he remained 
low in the water and circled her, holding her with firm 
hands that stroked her skin as they followed the path of 
his mouth. 
He stopped at her back, and smiled again as, like lost 
birds, her hands fluttered between water and air, searching 
for purchase. Her back was perfect, sculpted straight and 
pale, with a flash of red hair hanging past her bottom. 
With a growl, he bit the sensitive area where back met 
buttocks before rising to kiss a path along her spine. Her 
knees buckled, and he caught her in his arms, turning 
her to face him. “I am the Giver. Do you take what I offer?” 
“I am the Given.” Aria’s voice was low and filled with 
awe. “I accept with all my being.” She touched his mouth. 

Her fingers kissed him in disbelief. 
He groaned, and Aria smiled with the satisfaction of a 
woman who has found her power. 
He wanted her to use it. He wanted to lose himself in 
that part of her that was stronger than him, the part that 
loved, and maybe for a moment, he could love as well. 
It was a heady, frightening thought, but she deserved 
no less. Here, in this Temple, for a night, he could prove 
his own worthiness. 
“I have no sword for my hands, my Given.” He nuzzled 
her neck. “But know that I would bleed for you.” 
“This is all the sword I need or desire.” She gripped 
him in response. 
Talon brought his mouth down on hers. She opened 
to him, and it became a sensuous battle, as they tasted 
each other, each becoming greedier with each breath. 
The air grew heavy as Aria’s Trancer talent took over, 
touching him, tasting his thoughts, and leaving her own 
open to him. 
He reveled in it. Welcomed the intimacy. 
She was exquisite, both life and death. He picked her 
up, and in one silken movement, she wrapped her legs 
around his hips, and impaled herself on him, completing 
the joining. 
Buried in her, touching her mind, he knew this was 
all the life he needed or wanted. 
She moved against him, guiding herself. Her pleasure 
mingled with his until he neither knew which was his nor 
which was hers. 
The exquisite torture climbed out of control. How could 
she stand it? 
How can you? 
He opened his eyes, and for a moment, he saw himself 
through her eyes. Raw power, tanned skin twined with 
pale. A mighty Warrior. He did not deserve her praise. 
But you do, Aria assured him. 
I will try. 
He crushed her against him, and she screamed her 
desire, a primitive sound that spoke of complete release, 
as she arched against his body. 
The sound echoed through the empty temple and was 
answered in a deeper tone. 

Talon realized it was his own voice that shouted, as 
his desire peaked, and he and Aria became one and the 
same—joined. 

Twelve 
The morning sun woke Aria, and unlike the day before, 
she welcomed it. Raising her arms over her head, she 
stretched with a sigh of contentment. Her muscles ached, 
but it was a sweet reminder of last night. 
Talon mumbled in his sleep. Settling next to him, Aria 
watched him while listening to him breathe and wondering 
what he dreamed. In the time she had known him, this 
morning was the first she had woken before him and had 
had the pleasure of such speculation. 
Deep in slumber, he lay on his back with one arm 
flung over his head and the other limp at this side. Pulled 
free from the leather ties that usually constrained it, his 
hair lay scattered across the blankets that served as their 
bed. 
He was a handsome man. She had not thought about 
his looks, his sheer masculinity, since the Given ceremony. 
So much had stood in the way. 
Talon stirred and brushed his hand against the scar 
that ran the length of his jaw. 
Aria remembered how she had done the same on the 
morning after the Given ceremony. She had meant to ask 
him what had happened, but she had never had the 
chance. 
Maybe she would this morning. Now that they were 
lovers again. Now that he was willingly joined with her. 
Tentatively, she reached out and traced the length of 
the scar with a fingertip— 
And found herself thrown flat on her back with the 
breath knocked out of her. 
Talon loomed over her, one hand drawn back with his 
short knife in it, and the other wrapped around her neck. 
His eyes were wide. They did not see her. They saw an 
enemy, a demon from his dreams. He was not awake. Not 
yet. 
She faced death with her eyes wide open. 
The final blow did not come. 
“Aria?” 
She nodded. 
He released his hold, and she clutched her throat. What 

was wrong? All she had done was touch him. 
He sat back on his heels, his expression confused. 
“Aria?” He hesitated, his eyes still unfocused. He rubbed 
them with his free hand. When he finally looked up, they 
were free from the grip of dreams. 
He reached out to her, but his hand stopped short 
when he saw he still held the knife. With a groan, he let it 
fall from his grip, and it clattered to the floor. Neither 
spoke nor looked at the weapon. 
After a moment, he took her hand and pulled her to 
him, clutching her to his chest. He stroked her hair. “You 
surprised me. Did I hurt you?” 
She took a deep breath. “No. I am shaken but 
unharmed.” What darkness kept his vigilance so high that 
he was ready to kill—even in his sleep? Even in this place 
of peace? 
“Are you sure?” He turned her head with a delicate 
touch and traced what she was sure were the red marks 
left on her throat. 
His expression changed from tender to savage as he 
slammed a clenched fist on his naked thigh. “It will never 
happen again.” 
“It was an accident.” 
“Accident or not, you are not safe when I am around.” 
The pain in his eyes broke her heart. She took his 
hand in hers and unbent his rigid fingers. “Do all Warriors 
attack so readily?” 
“It is part of our training, but that is no excuse.” 
She nodded in understanding. He could not stop his 
well-honed reactions any more than she could stop being 
a Trancer. She would not want him to. “I shall simply be 
more careful in the future and wake you with a stick.” 
She smiled, hoping her humor would diffuse his guilt. 
Her smile was not returned. 
“Yes, that would be best.” He fell back onto the thin 
pallet. 
“It was but a joke,” she murmured. He did not hear 
her, and she knew that even if he had, it was no joke to 
him. 
Instead, he stared at the ceiling. He looked so alone. 
So contrite and guilty at something that was as natural to 
him as breathing. Pulling a blanket back over them, more 

for comfort than warmth, Aria lay down beside him. 
He pulled her close, holding her. “I swear I will never 
harm you.” 
She nodded, knowing it to be the truth. He was her 
protector, just as she was his, and he meant to keep his 
word. “Do not let it worry you so. There was no harm 
done.” Even as she said the words, she knew he did not 
listen. 
She would never fully understand him. Never truly 
know his past or what drove him. Even to her Trancer 
senses, there was too much shrouded. He carried so much 
pain within, and to let him carry this new guilt was 
unacceptable. 
She kissed his broad chest. His muscles twitched at 
the contact. She kissed him again, enjoying his reaction 
as she worked her way across his body. Leaning over him, 
she tickled him with her hair. 
Parting her hair, he tilted her chin up. “What are you 
doing?” 
“Whatever I want.” Sitting up, she slid a leg over him, 
straddling his waist. “And right now, I want you.” 
He shut his eyes with a groan, but his hands skated a 
path up her back. 
She shivered at the caress, but did not let it sway her. 
For once, she was in control. She was the Giver, not the 
Given. Placing her hands on his bare chest, she felt his 
heart beat beneath her palms. She leaned forward and 
gently bit his nipple, holding it in her teeth. His breath 
caught, and his heartbeat raced beneath her palm. 
“Aria...” 
Enjoying her power, she moved on, kissing her way 
up to his shoulder and onward to his ear. “What?” 
“You should not be doing this.” Even as he spoke, his 
hands ran down her sides and over her thighs, urging her 
onward. 
She ground her hips against him, taunting him. “Why 
not?” 
“I am supposed to pleasure you.” 
“You are.” She laughed and kissed his forehead, letting 
her breast graze his mouth. “Your every reaction pleasures 
me.” 
He gazed at her with half-lidded hunger. “Besides—” 

She stopped his protest with a kiss, rubbing her lips 
over his. “Shh.” 
“We need to leave.” 
She ran her hands through his hair, knowing he did 
not mean it. His voice, his body gave him away. He wanted 
her as much as she wanted him. “Your quest will wait,” 
she murmured. “Mako will wait.” 
He went rigid beneath her. “Do you really think that?” 
Inwardly, Aria cursed her careless tongue. Mentioning 
Mako was a mistake. She should have simply kissed Talon 
harder. 
She traced the line of his jaw with her nail. “Can we 
forget him? Just until the sun reaches its peak?” 
“How can either of us forget the man who butchered 
our son? Your people?” Talon countered. “How can we 
make love knowing he could be taking the same joy from 
another?” 
Tentatively, she bit his ear, hoping to make him forget 
the present. Nothing. He gave no indication of any emotion 
other than stoic tolerance. The moment of joy was gone 
like a shadow in the sun. She sat up and slid off him. 
Silent, scared of what she would say, she cursed her 
stupidity. She only wanted to give Talon the same joy he 
gave her, and she had ruined it with her careless words. 
But why did the words have to be careless? Why did 
she have to be watchful of every sentence she spoke? A 
thin line of anger made its way through her psyche, poking 
at her, prodding her with its hot tip. She raised her head, 
her gaze meeting his dark one. “Can you not forget the 
world just for one morning?” she asked, her voice tight. 
“The Goddess gave us a reprieve from duty, and I do not 
want to walk away from it. Not yet. I think you feel the 
same.” 
Rising to his feet, Talon walked over to the edge of the 
pool and retrieved his damp leggings, yanking them on. 
“What I feel does not matter. There is never a reprieve 
from duty. One might forget for a night, but it always 
returns with the light of dawn.” 
Aria covered herself with the blanket. The thin line of 
anger grew into a ribbon. “Is what I feel for you not as 
clear as duty? Is what I want to give less important than 
the revenge you seek?” 

Reaching down, he took her chin between thumb and 
forefinger, and tilted her head up to him. “I appreciate 
what you offer, but now is not the time.” 
What she offered? Could he not see there was more 
to her—more to them—than a moment of lovemaking? She 
resisted the urge to jerk her head away and instead stared 
at him, trying to read his expression. His stony gaze told 
her nothing. He was as closed as a tomb and as secretive 
as a thief. The ribbon of anger grew into a stream. “What 
do you see, Talon? Passion? Lust? Or do you see more?” 
He did not answer, but released her. 
She shut her eyes, holding in the hot tears that 
threatened to spill. His dismissal of her question told her 
more than words. 
Duty came before her. Death came before her. 
Everything came before her. He saw her as a vessel for his 
needs, and now that his needs were met, he turned away 
without a second thought. She thought she knew him. 
Knew his heart. Last night, she had been so sure. 
Please, my Goddess, do not abandon me now. Help 
me understand. 
There was no answer. She held back a cry of 
disappointment. 
Not sure of anything—not Talon, not her talents, and 
surely not herself—she stood. Letting the blanket drop, 
she found her clothes and pulled them on. Grabbing the 
discarded covering, she wadded it up and shoved it into 
her pack. 
“You should fold that to make more room,” Talon 
commented as he filled their other satchel. 
She glared at him. “I will do as I please, and right 
now, it pleases me to do this.” 
For a moment, he looked taken aback, then he 
dismissed her with a shrug and continued packing. 
The blood rushed to Aria’s face. “Do you not even care 
that you hurt me?” She tried to shove another blanket 
into the bag. 
He stopped. “My words are not meant to hurt. I simply 
want to get on with what we came to do. Afterwards, we 
will talk.” 
“If there is an afterwards,” she muttered, still struggling 
to fit the second blanket in. It would not fit. He was right 

about folding the first one, which only served to irk her. 
She pulled both back out. 
Talon walked over. “Let me help you.” He took a corner 
of the blanket. 
“I do not need your help.” The stream of anger surged 
into a river and consumed her. She jerked the blanket 
from his hands. “I will not be a whore for you, Talon, and 
I do not need your help. In anything.” 
He took a step back. “A whore? I never called you a 
whore.” 
“No, but you would treat me as one.” 
“I never—” 
“Yes, you do. When you turn away from me with no 
words and no explanation. When your duty is more 
important than my feelings. When only you are allowed to 
give pleasure and I am only permitted to take it.” She 
stumbled over the words, her tongue tripping over the 
jumble of thoughts. “All of it lessens me.” 
“It is not meant to.” 
“But it does.” Her voice echoed in the empty room. 
“Sometimes I think you are more like a Reaper than a 
Warrior. You take what you want and only give when it 
suits your purpose or desire.” 
He flushed crimson. “You think of me as a Reaper?” 
What had she said? 
“You would compare me to Mako?” His quiet, 
controlled voice barely made it the few feet to Aria’s ears, 
frightening her more than if he shouted and yelled. “You 
think me akin to the man who killed our son and left you 
lying in a pool of blood?” 
She shook her head, tangled hair flying. “I did not 
mean it like that.” 
He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and turned 
away. 
Trembling, she reached out to him. He did not see the 
gesture. She let her hand drop. He stood only a few 
footsteps from her, but it felt like a chasm as both anger 
and shame warred inside her heart. 
*** 
Talon tied Aria’s pack onto Cam’s leather saddle, 
swearing under his breath. As if sensing his master’s anger, 
Cam craned his neck around and nudged Talon, knocking 

him sideways. 
“Not now.” Talon pushed the rohha’s nose away with 
a firm hand. 
The animal sidestepped. Talon grabbed Cam’s reins, 
stopping him. “I said, not now.” 
The rohha tossed his head. 
“It is not his fault. Gentle words will go farther than a 
harsh tone.” 
Aria stood in the Temple’s door way. One hand held 
her pack, and the other toyed with the end of her plaited 
hair. 
“You would know about gentle words, would you not?” 
She flushed and flung her braided hair backwards. 
The end of it brushed the top of her thighs as it swung 
behind her. Flinging a bundle over her shoulder, she 
walked down the white stone steps towards him, her 
leather clad feet silent. “What I said was cruel and wrong, 
and even I do not believe it.” 
“Why did you say it?” 
“I was angry and wanted to hurt you as you had hurt 
me.” She took a step towards him. “Please forgive my 
careless tongue.” 
Was she so careless, or did she know more than she 
realized? He was angry at Aria. Her words had cut him 
deeper than any blade, but overshadowing the anger was 
the dreaded thought that perhaps she was right. He had 
tried to forget his past, but maybe it was a part of him. He 
shuddered at the bitter thought, but he held out a leather-
clad hand. “There is nothing to forgive. I, too, spoke 
carelessly. I would never consider you a whore, and I am 
sorry for making you think such a thing. I am the one 
who should beg forgiveness.” 
She smiled and took his hand in hers, and for a 
moment, all was forgiven. He was redeemed. But then he 
remembered what his future held, and hers, if he did not 
do his duty. He let her go and turned to finish readying 
Cam. 
“Let me help.” Aria interrupted him with both gentle 
words and hands as she reached to tie a knot. 
He slid past and let her finish. If she knew his past, 
she would not be offering help but running away. 
In a few moments, they were ready to depart the 

temple. 
Aria stepped back and looked at Talon with a hopeful 
smile on her lips. “So, where do we go next?” 
Talon stroked his chin. With all that had happened— 
her weariness, last night’s lovemaking and the fight this 
morning—he had not told her they were going to her 
hometown of Laini. He still remembered her words from 
the Given ceremony when he asked about her people, They 
do not suffer Trancers to live among them. Returning to 
those who had abandoned her would be an unpleasant 
experience at best. At worst... 
His hand automatically reached for his blade. He would 
make sure nobody harmed her. 
If only he could say the same about himself. He had 
promised he would not harm her, and yet he did so with 
every word, every action. He would choose his vows more 
carefully in the future. “I was told there is a man that was 
captured by the Reapers and escaped. We go to him in 
hopes he can either lead us to their camp or tell us the 
path.” Silently, he willed her to let the subject go. Aria 
would taste the bitterness of reality soon enough. 
“What is his name?” 
“Guar.” 
Her look of recognition at the name drove Talon to 
silence. 
The silence grew, taking on a life of its own. “Where is 
Guar from?” Aria broke the painful quiet. 
“A small village at the base of the Broken Mountains.” 
Talon sighed, knowing she would not give up until she 
had the full truth. 
“Do we travel to Laini?” She asked the question as if 
dreading the answer. Her eyes pleaded with him to lie. To 
tell her Guar was just another man from another village. 
She begged him to not betray her. 
“Yes,” Talon whispered, hating himself for what he 
was doing to her. 
Aria paled and stumbled towards the temple, almost 
falling onto the steps as she sat down. Talon remained 
next to Cam. He did not deserve to hold her or offer comfort. 
He deserved to be whipped. 
“Why did you not tell me?” she asked after a few 
moments. 

“I wanted to.” 
“Yet, you did not.” 
“There was never an appropriate moment. Yesterday, 
I had hoped to leave you at the Tower or even Barias’. You 
would never have known of this if you had not been so 
persistent. Last night—” 
She gave a short harsh laugh, cutting him off. “Yes, 
last night you were busy.” 
“It was not like that.” Talon took a step towards her, 
willing her to hear the truth of his words. 
She turned away, hiding her face in her hands. When 
she turned back, he saw something in her eyes he had 
never seen before—distance, alienation, and an aloneness 
sharper than a blade. 
Her eyes filled, but no tears fell. “Do you know what 
they did to me? How they made me feel? They shunned 
me, feared me. I left with nothing but some food and not 
one…” Her voice rose. “…not one person watched me walk 
away. Instead, they remained in their homes, cowering in 
fear. My father even kept my brother and sister from me. 
I never got to say good-bye.” Resting her head on her knees, 
she wrapped her arms around her legs, holding on as if 
the pain were too much to bear. 
To know he helped contribute to that pain 
overwhelmed Talon. No matter that he was not worthy of 
her, he sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her 
shoulders. 
She scooted away. 
Her pain was unbearable, but there was nothing he 
could do to mend her past. All he could offer was an 
alternative for the future. “You do not have to go. I can 
take you back to Barias’, and you can wait for me there. I 
will come back.” 
Her head snapped up, and she glared at him, green 
eyes narrowed. “No. I will not be left behind. Not again.” 
“As you wish.” He had not thought she would accept, 
not his Aria. Pride at her courage surged through him. If 
she were a man, she would be a Warrior. “If it were not 
important, you know I would not take you to Laini.” 
“Does it matter? You spurn me, treat me like a child, 
only telling me what I want to hear. Then, you do what 
you want to anyway. Why should my feelings matter?” 

She scooted farther, stopping at the edge of the stairs. 
He knew she argued because of the pain, but there 
was little he could do. His course was set not by desire, 
but by necessity. “I do not travel to Laini because I want 
to,” he replied, and like a dying man wanted the sweet 
mercy of the Goddess, he wanted to quell her pain and 
tell her that her thoughts and feelings did matter to him. 
Instead, he closed his eyes and held his feelings tight 
within his chest. If he revealed his innermost thoughts, 
then more would follow, and he would be as lost in her as 
he was last night. To confess his feelings would make them 
real, and he could ill afford such a sweet existence. Not 
while Mako lived. To love was to care. To care was to give 
Mako power. Only after the Reaper leader’s death could 
he indulge in such a weakness. 
He willed her to believe him. To realize he had no 
choice, not if Mako were to be brought to justice. 
Aria wiped her eyes before any tears fell. “You once 
said they were a superstitious people, and you were right. 
They live in fear and trust no one, especially strangers 
and their Trancer daughters. Do not expect much help 
from a Laini citizen.” 
Talon sat in silence. He could neither refute her words 
nor lessen her pain—or change his course. 
She continued, “I can seek Tarik’s life force. If I can 
find him then there will be no need to travel—” Her voice 
broke. “Home.” 
If it were only that simple, but how could she find 
that which did not exist? He pressed his lips together. 
“Do what you must, but I do not see how that will lead us 
to the Reapers.” 
“It led me to you, did it not?” 
“Yes.” But I am alive. 
As if privy to his thoughts, Aria shot him a defiant 
look and rose to her feet. Pulling her cloak from her 
shoulders, she spread it on the ground and sat in Trancer 
position. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. 
Talon sat on the stairs and watched her. How long 
would it take before she came back? Before she realized 
their son was dead? He waited, watching her face. Placid, 
she looked asleep as she searched. 
He should have made her stay at the Tower, then she 

would not be here, worn and hurt, looking for their dead 
child. He wished he could blame Lore for falling for her 
deception and letting her escape, but he could not. It was 
his fault. He should have kept quiet about his plans, been 
more secretive about his desire for revenge. She only came 
because she feared for him, and because she believed the 
impossible. 
He did not deserve her. She was right, he was more 
Reaper than Warrior. But for now, it was what he needed 
to be, even if it meant pushing Aria away for her own 
good. 
Aria’s eyes flew open. She clutched her throat as if to 
catch her breath. 
Fear surged through him, and Talon raced to her side. 
“Are you all right?” 
She pushed him away. “I am fine.” 
“What happened?” he asked, already knowing the 
answer. 
She shook her head, the sorrow in her eyes telling 
him more than words. “What you hoped would happen. I 
did not feel him.” 
Talon shook his head. “No. That is not my wish.” 
“Either way, the result is the same. But that does not 
mean I am wrong. It does not mean that Tarik is not out 
there alive and waiting for rescue.” 
“But you found nothing.” 
“No, that is not correct. I found something. A wall. It 
hinders me. It will not let me close to Tarik. When I try to 
breach it, I am thrown back into my body.” 
He had never heard of such a thing. “What does it 
mean?” 
She stood and gathered her cloak in her arms. “Nothing 
other than I need to practice my skills.” 
Her explanation did not surprise him. She was 
stubborn and would cling to her dream that Tarik lived 
for as long as possible, even if it meant rationalizing, 
perhaps even creating, a reason for her inability to find 
him. “I know you want to believe—” 
“If he were dead, I would know it in my heart,” Aria 
interrupted, words tumbling from her lips. “What I feel is 
a place in my soul that only Tarik can fill. I cannot lose 
faith, not now. If I believed my son were truly dead, I would 

crumple and die.” 
More frightening than the vehemence of her words was 
the expression on her face. Anguish and pure fear twisted 
her features into a mask of sorrow. Then, just as quickly, 
the look was gone, and in its place was the same distant 
look he had seen but moments earlier. He was losing her 
as she built a shell around her heart to contain the pain. 
He wanted to weep for the loss. Aria cutting herself off 
from life, from her inner self, was not what he wanted. He 
went to help her rise. She accepted with a cool grace. Once, 
a woman’s emotions would have served to simply annoy 
him. Now, he would give anything to see Aria rage, to make 
her laugh, or to make her cry. Anything but this cold mask 
of indifference 
Even worse was the knowledge that it was his fault, 
and he could do nothing about it. 
Not while Mako lived. 
*** 
Aria watched through narrowed eyes as Talon finished 
readying Cam. He did not believe her. He thought Tarik 
was dead. 
She gave a small snort of disdain at his narrow-
mindedness. He saw only his reality. He only believed in 
what he could touch with his hands, see with his eyes, 
taste with his tongue, and hear with his ears. He could 
not surf the currents and know that there was another 
world, one of color and texture and thought, which meshed 
and flowed through the world in which they lived. 
Let him believe what he wanted. She knew what needed 
to be done. She had to shatter the wall that blocked her. 
Like a Warrior, she would have to break it down if she 
wanted to rescue those who dwelt on the other side, 
whether or not Talon helped her. 
Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders, she walked 
over to Cam and looked at Talon over her shoulder. “Are 
you ready?” 
Flipping his cloak behind him, it fluttered like a 
cheerless banner. Wrapping his large hands around her 
waist, he lifted Aria on to the rohha’s back and mounted 
behind her. 
Although the morning was almost gone, the air in the 
forest was damp and cool. She resisted the urge to snuggle 

against him for warmth. 
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Talon whispered 
the question like an unspeakable name. 
She was not, but she had little other choice. “Yes.” 
Talon acknowledged her answer with a slow nod. 
Aria was grateful he neither pressed her to stay nor 
showed concern for her going. The chill inside her heart 
was but a thin covering for the anger, pain, and hurt that 
pulsed beneath it. If he had pushed, she feared she would 
break apart. 
With a nudge of Talon’s knees, Cam moved beneath 
them, walking with careful steps through the trees. 
Turning partway, Aria looked at the temple, silently 
apologizing to the Goddess for them both. She was sure 
they had failed. The Goddess had given them time to learn 
and love. A night to remember what they were and join 
forces. 
Instead, the distance between their hearts was farther 
than before. Farther than even she would have ever 
imagined. 
The temple shimmered as sunlight reflected off its 
white stone, and the greenery that surrounded it seemed 
to move closer, blurring its smooth lines. Aria blinked, 
and the temple wavered in the rising heat of the day. 
Another blink, and like a dream upon awakening, it 
disappeared. 

Thirteen 
Iliana rocked Tarik in her arms and sat in the small 
room the Reaper leader allowed her, contemplating the 
many ways he might kill her. Perhaps he would do as he 
once vowed and cut off her head. 
If he did, it was her own fault. Just this morning, he 
asked her to bring him a plate of bread, and she shot 
back she was not a serving girl. 
She had said it in front of his men. Stupid. 
For that she would surely be punished. 
Would he hurt Tarik? She hugged the babe closer. It 
would be easy to think Mako would never harm a child, 
that no one would, but she knew better. She remembered 
the Tower. If it served Mako’s interest, Tarik was not above 
harm or even death. 
She would have to watch her tongue, or Aria’s child 
would not have a future. 
Tarik started to cry. Stroking his cheek, she noticed 
his head turned towards her, and he made snuffling noises. 
“Hungry, little one?” she murmured. Settling him into the 
pillows, she poured rohha milk into a tightly woven cloth 
tube. “I know it is not what you want, but it is all I have. 
She tickled his lower lip with its tapered tip. 
Tarik latched onto the cloth and sucked vigorously, 
his tiny hands clenched into fists as they waved in the 
air. 
She settled him on her lap and watched him eat, 
enjoying a moment of peace. 
The door squeaked open, and Iliana looked up, 
annoyed at the intrusion. A boy stood on the threshold. 
Perhaps seven cycles, maybe a bit more. His dun colored 
hair was long and unkempt, and only a Reaper child would 
wear his combination of ragged, filthy leggings and fine 
cloth tunic. 
The lad planted his grubby hands on his hips. “Mako 
would see you.” 
Time for her punishment. Her hands started to shake. 
Mako would not kill her, not yet, she reminded herself. 
She had not used her Trancer abilities to help him. She 
took a deep breath. Surely, he would wait a while longer 

to see the value of the prize before he destroyed it. Another 
breath and the shaking stopped. She eyed the boy who 
waited for her response. “Come here.” 
The lad walked over, his steps tentative, as one might 
approach a wild animal. 
“Do you think I will eat you, boy?” Part of her wanted 
to taunt the lad, to make him feel the fear that consumed 
her. The other part of her felt only pity that one so young 
had already acquired the necessary trait of wariness. 
He glared at her with contempt. “No.” 
He also had acquired the Reaper arrogance. “Then 
think again, because I might.” She gave a wicked laugh. 
The lad paled. 
Enough taunting. She crooked a finger. “Come here. I 
was teasing. I do not eat small boys for my meals.” 
He gave her a guarded look, but shuffled over. 
“Have you worked with babes before?” 
He nodded. “Yes, but I’m too old for that now.” 
“Too old?” He had not even begun the change into a 
man. 
The lad’s brows knitted together in thought. “Yes. 
Besides, that’s woman’s work.” 
She did not have time to debate child-care and a 
woman’s place with a boy. She thrust Tarik into his arms 
along with the feeding tube. “No matter. Mako has 
summoned me.” 
The boy clutched the babe in an awkward hold. Iliana 
held in a sigh of exasperation. 
“Sit,” she commanded. 
The boy perched on the edge of her bed. 
“Feed him, and make sure he is comfortable. Can you 
do this?” 
He eyed the small child with a frown. 
“If you do, I will tell Mako how pleased I am with you.” 
Iliana offered, knowing that Mako had told all his men to 
treat her as a guest. 
The lad tilted his head in thought for a brief moment, 
then nodded. “I will watch him.” 
“Good. Now I will go see my benefactor.” 
Before shutting the door behind her, she took one last, 
quick look behind her. The boy and babe were a sweet 
tableau. She let a smile soften her lips, unable to help 

liking the lad. It was not his fault he was a Reaper. For 
some, there was little else. 
Quickly, she paced down a hallway lined with 
paintings, anxious to be done with her penance. 
The oversized wooden door to the main room was shut. 
With a groan, Iliana pushed it open and stumbled in. 
The room before her was a paradox of beauty and pain. 
Bright tapestries covered cold stone walls stained with 
blood. Candles lent their warm glow to animal’s heads 
mounted above the windows. 
Still, at the center, at the focus of all the tragedy and 
brilliance was Mako. Like a fallen hero, he sat on the far 
side of the room, his broad shoulders spanning the width 
of the chair. 
The door swung shut behind her. The few men in the 
room grew silent. She waited. 
“Come here.” Mako’s deep voice washed over her. 
Iliana took a few steps toward him, hoping it was 
enough. He chilled her both inside and out. Instinct told 
her to stay as far away from him as possible. 
“Closer still.” 
Another few steps forward. She knew her reluctance 
was obvious, but could not help it. He was both everything 
she hated and the person she was sworn to assist. She 
reminded herself of whom she protected and forced her 
legs forward until she stood in front of him. 
“Iliana?” 
“Yes, Lord Mako?” 
Pulling his feet off a footstool, he waved toward it with 
his hand. “Sit.” 
She turned her head away. What did he want? “Thank 
you, but I prefer to stand.” 
Mako laughed, and patted the stool with his palm. 
“Either here or on my lap, fair Trancer. The choice is yours.” 
Heat flushed through her, and she sat as far back on 
the small stool as possible. 
Mako stroked his short, well-groomed beard. 
All waited. The silence grew. Her heart pounded in 
her chest. She could stand it no longer. “Why have you 
called me? Do you have need of my services?” 
“Services?” He leaned forward and traced her jaw with 
a rough hand, letting his fingers glide down her neck and 

linger for a moment against her beating heart. “What do 
you mean by services? Do you offer your Trancing abilities 
or something more?” 
Ominous chuckles ran through the crowd. 
Mako raised his hand, and they all stopped. 
She bit her lip, remembering Tarik and her promise 
to keep him safe. “My Trancing abilities, of course,” was 
her cautious answer. But she knew Mako wanted her. 
She saw it in the way he looked at her with half-lidded 
desire, heard it in the way his breath deepened when she 
was near. 
Mako sighed and ran a hand over his short hair, 
smoothing it. “What a pity.” 
A guard snickered. 
He played with her. Iliana’s skin burned in 
embarrassment. “A pity to disappoint you, Lord Mako, 
but that was the bargain, was it not?” 
Mako leaned forward, all teasing gone. 
She wished she had held her tongue. 
“Do you know why I summoned you?” he asked. 
“No.” 
He leaned closer. Iliana leaned backwards. 
With a quickness that belied his size, he grabbed the 
front of her dressing gown and pulled her to him. His face 
was inches from hers. 
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. 
Her lower lip trembled. Reaching up with his other 
hand, he ran his thumb over it. “If I wish it, I can make 
you do more than tremble, sweet Trancer. It would not be 
a bad thing. What more could a girl want than the attention 
of a powerful man?” 
She shut her eyes. “Freedom.” 
“Freedom is what you make it.” He ran his thumb 
over her cheekbone. “There is a greater freedom that comes 
with doing what you want. Taking what you want. Like I 
could take you here and now, if I chose.” 
He tried to seduce her with words. Was he mad? Did 
he think she would willingly offer her body? She could 
not deny that he was an attractive man. His body was 
honed by hard life, and he resonated an aura of power 
that appealed to her baser instincts. 
There was also the stench of blood and death. She 

could not do this. Not even for Tarik. 
“If I bedded you, do you think you would hate me or 
desire me?” 
Her eyes shot open. 
He buried his hand in her short hair. “Or both?” He 
pulled her closer until their lips almost touched. 
Her stomach flipped, and she swallowed, hard. “You 
presume much, Lord Mako,” she whispered against his 
lips. “I would feel nothing. Nothing at all.” 
“Are you so sure?” He thrust her away with a laugh. 
“Always the defiant one, are you not?” 
She smoothed her hair away from her face and took a 
deep breath. Her heart still pounded, but it was over. He 
would not force her. At least for now. 
He laughed again. “Thank you for reminding me why 
I summoned you.” 
She waited. 
“Your attitude. I dislike it.” 
“I swore I would help you if you spared my son. I did 
not say I would make it easy.” Iliana prayed his own twisted 
code held enough honor to make him keep his own oath. 
“That was the bargain,” Mako agreed. 
Iliana let a sigh of relief pass her lips. 
Leaning back in his chair, Mako continued. “And I 
suppose it would be a good one if Tarik were, of course, 
your son.” 

Fourteen 
“You cannot take me with you, Talon. My presence 
would only hinder your attempt to gather information on 
the Reapers.” 
With both longing and loathing warring for her 
attention, Aria peered through the forests leaves at the 
small village that was once her home. Once, she had hoped 
to return, and now that she was here, she wanted nothing 
more than to ride far away. 
“I know your presence will make my task more 
difficult,” Talon motioned towards the ground. “But look.” 
She glanced down at the forest floor. Among the leaves 
and dirt were prints made by animals that were better left 
alone. By creatures whose appetites demanded flesh. 
“I cannot leave you unprotected. Not here.” With a kick 
of his heels, Talon set Cam into motion. 
The rohha stepped from the forest onto the hard-
packed dirt road, and Aria’s heart pounded as trepidation 
consumed her. “I would rather take my chance with the 
wild beasts.” 
“And I did not offer you a choice.” He motioned Cam 
to move faster. “So let us finish this as quickly as possible.” 
Aria swallowed hard and gave a curt nod of acceptance. 
Talon was as stubborn as a rohha when it came to her 
safety. 
She only hoped his decision did not prove to be the 
wrong one. 
The village loomed closer. Within moments, they 
passed the small altar that marked its border, and her 
every fear became realized as the village turned silent in 
their wake. 
For what seemed a sun, the only sound was the muffled 
thud of Cam’s hooves on the dirt road. Then, the 
whispering began. Murmurs of distress as mothers 
ushered their young children into the house and small 
protests of curiosity from the children who wanted to see 
the strangers. 
“She’s back. Somebody find Martus.” The hushed order 
floated through the air to Aria’s ears as she sat perched in 

front of Talon. 
Martus would arrive in a moment. A shiver of 
apprehension chilled Aria, despite the warmth of the day. 
She pressed her lips together and straightened her 
shoulders, beating the panic back. Let him come. When 
she last saw him, she was but a girl. Now, she was a 
woman tempered by life and unmoved by his wrath. 
“Hold stranger.” 
Cam came to an abrupt halt. A man in a simple robe 
the color of a sunless day stood in front of them. He held 
a wooden staff in his right hand, and a scowl furrowed his 
brow. 
It was Martus. Her father. 
“Explain your presence.” He held the staff upright and 
forward, like a shield, as he circled to stand beside the 
rohha. 
Aria frowned at the absurd display. How like him to 
expect the worst. She spoke first. “Hello, Father.” 
“Quiet, girl,” Martus commanded. “You bring 
malevolence to our village by returning. Do not compound 
the issue by behaving in an unseemly manner.” 
He still expected her to keep silent like her mother 
and all the righteous women of the village. Aria opened 
her mouth to make a sharp retort, but Talon interrupted 
her. “I apologize for the intrusion, but we come on a 
mission of great importance.” 
Dismissing Aria with a scathing glance, Martus looked 
past her, almost through her, as he addressed Talon. 
“What mission is so crucial that you bring this witch into 
our village?” 
“Our mission is best discussed in private,” Talon 
replied. His voice sounded calm, but Aria saw his hands 
tighten on Cam’s reins until the knuckles whitened. Was 
it because of the delay or because her father called her a 
witch? It was difficult to tell with Talon. He kept much 
from her now. 
Probably the delay. Aria tucked a stray strand of hair 
behind her ear. Did her father’s accusations bother Talon? 
He had cared little for her feelings on the road as they 
journeyed to her home. In the past few suns, she had 
tried to talk to him and had failed at every turn. He rarely 
spoke when she addressed him, and when he bothered to 

reply, the answers were clipped and curt. He treated Cam 
with more affection, as they journeyed over streams and 
through the mountain pass. 
So, why would he care that another treated her poorly? 
“Why not speak? Do you hide something?” Martus 
insisted. 
Aria straightened and glared at the man she once called 
‘Father’. 
“No,” Talon answered for them both. “But the 
information we seek is sensitive, and I have no desire to 
risk any of your people.” 
For the first time, Aria noticed a crowd of men had 
surrounded them, watching the conversation with great 
interest. 
“You risk their souls by bringing her here.” Martus 
shook his staff at Aria. 
“My name is Aria, Father. You gave it to me.” She glared 
at him, past caring what anyone thought. They had 
banished her with their fear. Their twisted morality no 
longer applied. 
Martus ignored her words, treating her like she did 
not exist and spoke to Talon once again. “Follow me to my 
home. We can talk in private and remove her from the 
streets before she taints anyone with her evil ways.” 
“Thank you. We accept your offer,” Talon answered. 
In a quieter voice, he whispered in Aria’s ear, “Hush. He 
treats you poorly, but we need information. He seems to 
be the one to go to.” 
Aria bit her tongue. At present, it was not Talon who 
angered her most. “I suppose you are right.” 
“He is your father?” With a knee, Talon motioned Cam 
to follow the dour man in front of them. 
“You did hear me call him such, did you not?” she 
snapped. 
“Yes, but I find it unimaginable that a father treats 
his child, his blood, with such heartlessness.” 
“I am his daughter no longer.” 
“I am sorry to have brought you here,” Talon said, 
“You understand there was little choice.” 
“I know,” she said through gritted teeth. “Since I failed 
to locate Tarik, there was no other option.” Over the past 
few days, she had tried to find their son using her Trancer 

abilities, but she was always flung back into her body by 
the black wall. Either the phenomenon was stronger than 
she first thought, or her abilities were weaker. Neither 
thought pleased her, and her mood darkened. 
“Do not blame yourself. You tried.” 
“Trying is not enough,” she whispered over her 
shoulder. “If I had succeeded, we would be suns closer to 
our child instead of here.” 
“Every talent, every strength, has a limitation. Do not 
blame yourself because your talent is not what you want 
it to be.” 
“Spare me the platitudes. I failed, and now I pay the 
price.” 
Talon touched her shoulder for but a moment before 
he snatched his hand back. 
Did she mean so little to him that even a gesture of 
comfort was beneath him? She bit her lip again and refused 
to let a single tear form. Instead, she looked around as 
they rode through the silent village. 
The swing of a window cover caught her eye, and the 
hairs on her arms rose. She sensed the women and 
children who watched their passage, peeking through 
coarse, dull cloth, but when she returned the stare, the 
faces disappeared. 
She did not need to be a Trancer to taste their fear. It 
permeated the air like a heavy cloak, keeping their hearts 
and minds closed to her both as a Trancer and as a friend. 
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the pain, not 
wanting to see any more of what she had lost. If her abilities 
had not ever emerged, she would be living here still. She 
would have a family. Friends. 
Maybe even a father. 
He was not much of a father before my change, she 
reminded herself. Aria opened her eyes. Besides, the only 
real regrets were her sister and brother. She had come so 
far. Would Martus let her see them, or would he hide them 
away from her? 
Her home came into view. Its stone walls were washed 
white, and the wooden fence surrounding the garden 
needed to be replaced. 
“Hold,” Martus commanded. “You.” He pointed at them 
with his staff, “Remain here.” 

“Not friendly, is he?” Talon commented as the door 
closed behind her father. 
Aria turned partway in the saddle. Talon’s eyes were 
narrowed and his expression heated. “No, but he never 
was.” 
“Not even before your abilities emerged?” 
She shook her head. “Never. He ruled our household 
with the staff he carries, using it to correct any lapse in 
morality. We all learned, even mother, to keep our council 
to ourselves for fear of a beating.” 
Talon’s lips turned downward. “I pray he does not 
consider it his duty to still correct you.” 
“Why? Would you protect me?” Aria baited him but 
did not expect an answer. 
“You are my Given, and even if you were not, nobody 
deserves a beating for voicing an opinion. Especially a 
woman.” 
A woman and his Given. That was all he saw. Someone 
who needed protection. He never saw her as a Trancer 
capable of taking care of herself. Aria opened her mouth 
to retort and stopped herself. She had asked the question 
and should not berate his honesty. Perhaps he felt the 
need to protect anyone smaller than himself, which 
included all woman she knew and most men. 
Or, perhaps he cared more for her than he wanted to 
admit. 
Either way, if she challenged him, a fight would ensue, 
and she needed her emotional and mental strength to deal 
with Martus. She frowned at the absurdity of the situation. 
“Do you have something to say?” Talon asked. 
“No, nothing, other than to warn you to be wary. 
Martus may be unkind, and he may be superstitious, but 
he is neither ignorant nor dimwitted.” 
Talon shrugged. “I plan on finding our information 
and leaving as quickly as possible. Any unknown agenda 
should not be a problem.” 
Aria bristled. “Let me finish. When you ask to speak 
to Gaur, he will deny your request.” 
“Why? What we do is for the good of all.” 
“Because there will be nothing in it for him.” 
“If need be, I will find Gaur and speak to him myself.” 
Aria rubbed her eyes with upturned palms. He did 

not understand. His strength would not help him here. 
Only intelligence and the ability to outwit Martus would 
bring success. “Listen to my words. No one in the village 
will speak to you unless Martus allows them to. No one. 
He is the religious council and the law. When my abilities 
emerged and I was banished, he lost pride. Now that I 
have returned, he will make us both pay the price for his 
humiliation.” 
Talon gave a thoughtful nod. “Then we must give him 
a reason to help us.” 
A sigh of relief slipped past her lips. “I see you begin 
to understand.” 
“A Warrior does more than wield a sword. He also plans 
strategy. This is a small battle, but I think it is one we can 
win.” 
“Let us hope so, or Tarik is lost.” 
The creak of the door drew both their attention away 
before Talon replied. 
“You may enter.” Martus pointed his staff at Talon. 
Dismounting, Talon placed his massive hands around 
Aria’s waist and lifted her from Cam’s back. 
“Not her.” Martus stopped them at the door. 
“Where I go, she goes.” Talon’s tone threatened a fight 
if denied. 
But Martus barred the door with his staff. “No. Not 
into this house. No witch will corrupt my family.” 
Talon took a step forward. Aria stopped him with a 
hand on his arm and drew him aside. “Remember what I 
told you.” 
He nodded. “I do.” 
“Then know that my presence will not help our cause. 
Do what needs to be done, and let us leave this place.” 
Cupping her face in his hands, he grazed her ear with 
his lips. “I will not let him treat you in such a manner.” 
Aria smiled to herself, somewhat pleased he cared 
enough to protect her feelings, if not from himself, then 
from others. “Thank you,” she replied. “But if belittling 
me mends his wounded pride, I must endure it. We need 
his help.” 
“I do not like this.” 
“Neither do I, but we have little choice.” 
He nodded agreement, but his expression remained 

pensive. 
“When you and Martus finish talking, walk behind 
the house. Beyond the trees there is a stream.” Impulsively, 
she stood on her toes and kissed Talon’s cheek. “Cam 
and I will wait for you there.” 
Talon nodded and turned on his heel, his sword 
banging against his thigh. 
Without a word or a glance towards Aria, Martus 
opened the door, ushered Talon in, and shut it behind 
them 
Leading Cam by the reins, she walked away. The thud 
of wood against wood reached her ears. She knew her 
father barred the door with a short wooden plank, locking 
her out and the others in. 
She refused to let it hurt her. In her heart, she knew 
Trancing was a gift, but why did she feel so evil and 
unclean whenever her father called her a witch? 
Reaching the small brook, she tied Cam’s reins loosely 
behind his neck so they did not drag. Sitting under one of 
the many trees lining the stream, she watched as the rohha 
walked into the icy brook, seemingly oblivious to the cold. 
“Cam, you do not think me a witch, do you?” 
The rohha did not answer but dipped his head and 
drank. 
Aria leaned back against the rough bark. “I can see 
you do not, because of the fearless way you turn your 
back to me.” She joked, but it was more for her benefit 
than Cam’s. 
A soft, feminine voice interrupted the silence. “Neither 
do I.” 
Aria turned her head. Her visitor was a young woman 
with pale green eyes and nervous hands. Her hair was 
red, but unlike Aria’s fire bright curls, her hair was deep 
and dark like berry wine. Aria’s heart pounded. “Kisa?” 
The girl nodded and held her arms open. “Yes, Aria. It 
is me.” 
Aria jumped up and ran to embrace her sister. 
*** 
Talon watched, his anger barely held at bay, as 
Martus barred the door. Aria was his daughter, and this 
man treated her like a raging katah’ that threatened to 
enter and maul him. 

Perhaps the man knew nothing of Trancers and their 
oath to do no harm, but surely he knew his own daughter. 
She was incapable of evil. To suspect otherwise was beyond 
Talon’s comprehension. 
“Now, tell me why you are here, Warrior.” Martus said, 
turning back. 
Talon paused at the comment made so offhandedly. 
“Why do you call me Warrior?” he asked. 
“You tie your hair with a Warrior cord, do you not?” 
Martus answered. 
Talon reached back and fingered the tanned leather 
cord that held his hair back. Aria had warned him that 
Martus was not dim. 
“Let us speak plainly.” Martus gestured with his staff 
as he spoke. “But know it is your status as a Warrior that 
allows you in my house. Any other man would be driven 
away for bringing her here.” 
“You mean your daughter?” 
Martus whacked the tabletop with his staff. The sharp 
sound reverberated through the small room. “She is my 
daughter no longer. Say so again and not even you will be 
beyond my wrath.” 
Talon burned within. This petty man and his warped 
principles were wearing thin. He wanted nothing more 
than to wipe the self-righteous expression from Martus’ 
face. 
Then he heard Aria’s voice, reminding him that her 
father was the key to information. Strategy, not brutality, 
would get them what they needed. 
“As you wish.” Talon forced himself to relax. 
“Sit, and tell me why you journey to our small village.” 
Talon sat on a short wooden bench next to the 
fireplace, the wood groaning under his large frame. He 
noticed Martus remained standing. “We seek information 
about the Reapers.” 
“We know nothing of them. It seems your journey 
was a waste of time.” Hurrying over to the door, Martus 
raised the bar. 
“Hold.” Talon commanded. 
Martus stopped. The bar fell back into place. 
“I was told a man named Gaur lives here. He was once 
a prisoner of the Reapers but managed to escape.” 

Aria’s father did not reply but stared at Talon as if 
waiting for him to continue. 
Talon obliged him. “I need to speak with him to find 
where the Reapers hide.” 
“Why?” 
Perhaps the old man would soften towards Aria if he 
knew she bore, and lost, a child, but Talon doubted it. 
Looking at Martus, he saw only bitter lines flanked his 
mouth, and his eyes were bright with power and hatred. 
No, this man would not feel pity. He would feel pleasure 
at Aria’s loss. Talon would not give him the power to hurt 
her in such a deep way. 
“They destroyed Aria’s Tower—” 
“Good for them. The only good witch is a dead one.” 
Talon continued, ignoring the callous remark. “The 
Council wants us to seek them out and report their 
whereabouts.” 
“You still give me no reason to help you.” 
“They may come here. The safety of you people should 
be motive enough to assist us.” 
Martus laughed, a creaky, stilted sound, as if it was 
something he rarely did. “We have nothing they want. 
Besides, they live far and away from here.” He paused. 
“Or so I hear.” 
Talon turned away, his mind racing, searching to find 
what might motivate this man who understood nothing 
but control. His gaze fell on a pot of stew. Hung over the 
flames, it simmered in its black metal pot. It seemed he 
and Aria interrupted the midday meal. 
He hoped it burned. 
“It sounds as if you know more than you care to 
divulge. How can I convince you to help us?” Talon asked. 
The low timbre of his voice was more threatening than 
words, although he thought he knew the answer. A man 
like Martus responded to few things—power, money, and 
threats. But strategy, not threats, Aria had said. 
Why not use both? 
“What do you offer?” Martus asked, his face eager. 
Talon shrugged. “Your life.” 
Martus went from tanned to pale, as the color drained 
from his face. “You w-w-wouldn’t,” Martus stammered. 
“You are a Warrior. A protector.” 

Talon shrugged his shoulders again. “Things are not 
always what they seem. You noticed the Warrior’s cord 
and assumed my status. What you did not see was this.” 
Reveling in the building tension, Talon slowly drew his 
sword from its worn leather sheath. Then, he turned it to 
show the single blood red stone that adorned the dull metal 
hilt. 
Martus went from pale to the color of gray ash, 
confirming, to Talon, his knowledge of the Reapers. 
“You carry a R-R-Reaper sword,” Martus stammered 
again. 
Talon nodded. Once. 
“Why do you carry a Reaper’s weapon?” 
Talon tried not to enjoy the man’s fear too much, but 
it was almost impossible. He knew others like Martus, 
and they all were similar. Petty and small. Cruel to those 
weaker than themselves when there was no need. Beating 
their families, their daughters, when they should be 
cherishing every moment spent with them. 
Martus had no idea what loss was. He knew only 
power, and that was the answer. Talon would have to show 
himself more powerful to gain his assistance. “Why? 
Because I was once a Reaper.” 
Martus clutched the tabletop with crablike hands as 
he stumbled to sit on a chair. “You. A Reaper?” 
Talon ran a gloved hand along the nicked edge of his 
blade. “Yes.” 
Martus pointed towards a closed door. “My other 
daughter, Kisa, is in there. Take her if you want. She is 
young and pretty. You can sell her and make a good 
profit—” 
“No.” Talon cut him off in disgust. “You do not seem 
to understand, little man. I do not want your daughter. I 
want information. Now talk, or I will make you talk.” 
With a cry, Martus slid to the ground, prostrate in 
front of Talon. The sounds of his harsh breathing, 
punctuated with mumblings, broke the silence as Talon 
waited for him to speak. 
Talking to his god, Talon supposed. A man this cruel 
did not follow the way of the Goddess. 
After a few minutes, the mumbling stopped, cut off 
abruptly. Martus rose to his knees. He looked straight at 

Talon. The fear had vanished, replaced with a crafty glint. 
It seemed as if his god had spoken. 
“You said once a Reaper?” Martus asked, settling into 
a chair. 
“Yes.” 
“And now you are a Warrior.” The man talked aloud 
but did not address Talon. “You might carry the Reaper’s 
sword, but you will not use it,” he crowed, his voice shrill 
with victory. “It was a bluff. You would never hurt me.” 
Reaching towards the ground, he picked up his staff. 
“So, Warrior, it seems your ploy failed. Now what will you 
offer me for information?” 
Talon shook his head. “The payment is the same. Your 
life.” 
Martus shook his staff at Talon. “You would never 
harm me. However, you will pay extra for your lie.” 
“You assume much based on little.” Talon rose to his 
feet and sheathed his sword. Each step deliberate, he 
walked to stand behind Martus. The old man waited, his 
confidence apparent in the careless way he rested his 
hands upon the tabletop and the arrogant tilt to his head. 
The old man chuckled, his glees overflowing. Talon 
leaned forward. His large hands flanked Martus’ as he 
spoke. “I was once a Reaper. I was once a Warrior. Now, I 
am neither. That, in itself, should tell you what kind of 
man I am. I follow my own rules. I can slay you, or I can 
let you be.” 
Martus’ chuckling ceased. 
Talon leaned farther until he spoke directly in the old 
man’s ear. “I can use this sword to make you talk, and 
believe me when I say that towards the end you would 
beg to speak. You are a small, bitter man. You took a 
daughter’s love and twisted it until only pain and anger 
remained. For that cruelty alone, I would enjoy making 
you talk. So please, do not help me. I want to use the 
sword. She deserves any retribution I can give her.” 
He did not move, but waited for the old man to break 
under the pressure. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw 
Martus’s hands begin to shake. The rank smell of fear 
permeated the air, overpowering all else. 
Talon straightened and crossed his arms, waiting for 
the words he knew would come. 

“What do you need from me?” 
He smiled at the victory. “That is better. I would speak 
with Gaur. Aria tells me that nobody will talk to me without 
your permission.” 
Martus nodded, broken. “I am their spiritual leader.” 
Talon’s lips curled into a sneer, but he did not say 
what he thought of Martus’ example of spirituality. There 
was too much to do. He did not want to be sidetracked. 
“When can I speak with this man?” 
“Tomorrow. Perhaps the next sun.” 
Talon fingered the hilt of his sword. “I lose patience, 
old man. Do not put me off, thinking it will be to your 
advantage.” 
“I do not,” Martus babbled. “I swear by the God Thoth. 
Gaur caught an ill wind and has been asleep for over five 
suns.” 
”When do you expect him to awaken?” 
“No one knows,” Martus said cowering. 
“Have you no Healer?” 
Martus shook his head, his robe quivering as his 
trembling increased. 
There was no time to wait. If word of Talon’s quest 
had reached Mako’s ears, each lost moment gave his enemy 
the advantage of preparation. “I will give Gaur until 
tomorrow, and then Aria and I will speak with him.” 
A banging on the heavy wooden door interrupted 
Martus’s reply. The old man looked to Talon for permission. 
Talon nodded. 
Rising from the bench, Martus grabbed his staff and 
skittered to the door. Lifting the wooden bar, he opened 
the portal. Martus blocked most of the view, but Talon 
managed to catch a glimpse of the visitor. It was another 
man. He wore a robe similar to Martus’s, with the hood 
pulled over his head, obscuring his face. 
Talon strained his ears. Nothing other than mumbling 
reached him. After a moment, Martus turned back. The 
hairs on the back of Talon’s neck rose. Gone was the fear 
from Martus’ eyes, and in its place was a righteous anger. 
Something had happened. 
Martus bowed low. “Duty calls me, with your 
permission...” 
Better to let the old man go and follow, Talon decided. 

He waved his acquiescence, and the old man shut the 
door behind him as he left. 
Within moments, Talon followed, each step as light 
and silent as a katah’s. 
*** 
Aria pulled away from her sister and held her at arm’s 
length. “You have grown.” She marveled at Kisa, amazed 
at how much she had changed. Gone was the shy little 
sister who had followed her around like a pet, and in her 
place was a confident, beautiful young woman. “When I 
left, you were but a child on the verge of womanhood.” 
Kisa blushed, and a smile quirked her lips. “It is 
amazing what time can do.” 
Aria laughed and hugged her sister again. “I know I 
babble, but it is so good to see you. I thought I never 
would.” 
Her sister gripped her in return, their arms tight about 
each other, and the two stood silent for a few more 
moments. 
This time, Kisa pulled away. “I knew something was 
wrong when Father made us go into the back room and 
lock the door. He told us we were not to make a sound.” 
Aria nodded, knowing their father and his commands. 
“I figured it must be someone interesting. I hoped it 
was you, but I never dreamed...If Father found out...” 
“Hush.” Aria laid her hand gently over her sister’s 
mouth. “We have little time here. Let us not talk of Martus.” 
Kisa nodded and wiped her damp eyes. “You are right.” 
Sitting, she pulled Aria down beside her. “Tell me what 
you have been doing since Father sent you away.” 
Facing her sister, Aria crossed her legs at the knees. 
“Training at a Tower.” 
“To be a Trancer?” Kisa asked, her eyes bright with 
curiosity. 
“Yes.” 
“Why are you here?” 
Aria sighed. “It is a long story, but I shall keep it short.” 
She folded her hands in her lap. “I had a son by a Warrior 
named Talon. Our child was taken when my Tower was 
destroyed by Reapers. Now, we go in search of him.” 
Kisa’s jaw dropped. “I...I do not know what to say.” 
“Say nothing other than you have missed me. Your 

voice is all I need to hear.” 
Kisa reached over and took Aria’s hand in hers. “You 
know that is true, but you have been through much, and 
words are meaningless.” 
“Not from you. Not when I thought I would never hear 
your voice again.” Aria’s voice broke as she remembered 
her first nights at the Tower. She would have given the 
entire world to hear Kisa’s laugh. “I missed you so much.” 
“I missed you, also. Both Anok and I have.” 
“Anok.” She had forgotten about her young brother in 
the thrill of seeing her sister again. “Where is he? Is he all 
right?” 
Kisa laughed. “He is fine. He is in the back room 
waiting for me to return. He is still young and has not 
found the pleasure in defying Father.” 
Aria nodded in understanding. “He still seeks father’s 
love?” They all had at one time, until he beat the hope 
from them both physically and emotionally. 
“Yes. He does not yet understand that Father has no 
love to give.” 
Fingers intertwined, Aria squeezed her sister’s hand. 
“But you know, do you not?” 
Kisa squeezed back. “All too well. When you left, I 
thought he banished you for our protection. I was young. 
I wanted to believe. Then, one day, I gave up trying to gain 
his approval, and that is when I started to question.” 
“Question what?” 
“You. Why you left. Was Father right? Everything. He 
has never been a good man, so I questioned it all.” 
Aria nodded in understanding. Her own evolution into 
adulthood was much the same. “What did you discover?” 
“I knew the answers all along. Especially when I 
remembered you. You were always kind. Always patient. 
Do you remember when we snuck out because we wanted 
to see the silver maiden?” 
Aria gave a low chuckle at the memory. “We thought 
that if we waited she would show herself to us. Instead, 
all we got were sore eyes from staring too long at her moon.” 
Kisa did not laugh. “You received a sore back when 
father found us. You took my punishment because you 
were the eldest.” 
Aria shrugged. “It was not a bad beating.” 

“You were bedridden for two suns.” 
“It was long ago, and I have since healed. Let us not 
speak of the past. It is gone and done and father cannot 
hurt me again.” 
Kisa nodded. “I suppose you are right.” She leaned 
forward. “Tell me of your Warrior. Is he handsome?” 
Aria laughed in delight. It had been so long since she 
had spoken with another woman about such things. Not 
since she lost Iliana. Her heart gave a little cry at the loss, 
but she pushed it aside. “His name is Talon, and I suppose 
he is handsome. He is a large man, but most Warriors 
are.” Thinking back to the first day she met him, Aria 
added, “His hair is as dark as katah’ fur, and his hands 
are both gentle and strong.” 
“Is he kind to you?” 
Aria knew her sister thought of their father and his 
cruel nature and hoped she had found better. She fingered 
the end of her braid, brushing the ends across her palm 
as she thought about all Talon did and said. Was he kind? 
He had angered her, deserted her, loved her, and saved 
her life. He mourned his son and sought to kill the killers. 
He was both harsh and tender. Kind was not the word to 
describe her Giver, but neither was cruel. 
He was a mystery hidden in a puzzle. 
“The night of the Given ceremony, he treated me with 
unexpected gentleness, but since we lost Tarik, he has 
changed.” 
“How?” 
“His gentle words are fewer. His gentle touches even 
less. He is obsessed with finding Mako, the Reaper who 
destroyed my Tower and took Tarik.” 
“Does he hurt you?” Kisa questioned, jumping to her 
feet. 
Aria laid a hand on her sister’s arm and drew her back 
down to sit beside her. “No, he would never harm me 
willingly, but he does not understand that his refusal to 
open to me is as harmful as words of hate.” 
“Have you told him? If he is as kind as you say he 
should understand.” 
Aria plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between 
her fingers as she spoke. “I try, but his mind is so clouded 
by the desire for revenge I fear there is little room for 

kindness.” 
“Why go with him?” 
There were so many reasons. “Because we are joined, 
and I would not lose him to revenge. My duty is not just to 
save my son but also to save his father. I can only pray to 
the Goddess that—” 
“Witch!” 
The shout, the screech of treachery, interrupted Aria. 
Both girls jumped to their feet. 
Martus marched towards them, his hair wild and his 
robe flapping about his thin legs as he shook his staff at 
them. Memories of cowering in the corner as the hated 
stick came down upon her shoulders flooded Aria. She 
wanted to shout. To run. To scream for help. Only a 
whispered “No” emerged. 
Despite the ingrained fear, the instinct to protect Kisa 
overwhelmed her. Aria’s legs shook, but she stepped in 
front of her sister, shielding her. The blade of grass fell 
from her fingers. 
Martus reached them and raised the staff above his 
head. “Witch! You brought Kisa out here and tried to 
corrupt her mind with your lies!” 
Shoving her way past Aria, Kisa gripped her father’s 
arm. “She did nothing, Father. It is my fault. I snuck out 
to see her.” 
He shook her off and took another menacing step 
towards Aria. 
She took a step back. The cold water of the stream 
licked the heels of her boots. 
He followed. Kisa grabbed at him, and he pushed her 
away. She fell with a cry. 
“Stay down,” Aria called as she backed into the stream. 
The water sloshed over the tops of her boots, chilling her 
feet. “We were just talking, Martus. I swear it.” 
He followed her into the water, heedless of the cold. 
“Liar! You shall pay for your crimes.” 
Like a great wave, panic overwhelmed Aria, drowning 
her in its murky waters. “No, please, Father. We were just 
talking.” She took another hurried step back and slipped, 
landing on her bottom. Her jaw clicked shut, and she bit 
her tongue, the taste of blood in her mouth familiar as 
she stared at the man who had fathered her. 

He lifted the staff above his head. “Trancer whore.” 
With no thought other than that of survival, Aria raised 
her arms over her head for protection and shut her eyes. 

Fifteen 
The blow never came. Aria peeked up through her 
fingers. It was as if time stopped. The staff drew her eye. 
It was still in her father’s hand, raised above his head, 
but Talon gripped it in the upswing, his knuckles white 
against the dark wood. 
Her eyes darted back to her father. His face was 
contorted in rage as he stared down at her. He meant to 
do more than beat her. She saw it in the way his upper lip 
curled and by the hatred in his eyes. The sweat of the 
self-righteous dotted his brow. Yes, he had planned to do 
much more than beat her. 
He could not. Talon had saved her. 
She let out the breath she had not realized she held. 
Sound and time crested into being. 
Her father whirled to face his antagonist. “Let go.” He 
struggled to pull the heavy staff from Talon’s grip. “She 
must be stopped.” 
“No.” In a single, powerful movement, Talon tugged 
on the staff. His strength broke Martus’ grip, and with a 
low growl, Talon shoved Aria’s father backward into the 
stream. Martus fell, howling in shock as the cold mountain 
water enveloped him past his waist. 
Talon stood over the man, unmoved by the chill water 
that swirled about his calves. “You will never hurt her 
again.” He poked Martus in the chest with the staff. 
“Give it back.” Martus’ bony hands reached for the 
staff, clawing the air. 
Talon weighed the heavy, carved stick in his hands. 
“That which you love so well shall be your undoing.” 
Talon’s hushed vow carried to Aria, and she gasped 
as she realized his intentions. “Talon, no.” She rose to her 
knees, Talon’s well-being now a greater concern than her 
own. She stretched a hand out, praying she could break 
through the haze of his rage. 
She tried to stand and slipped on the rocks again, 
falling backwards. She sputtered as she rose back to the 
surface and saw the stick poised above Talon’s head. She 
met his dark eyes. No. She mouthed the words, a silent 
plea for undeserved mercy. Neither spoke. She saw the 

hesitation, his desire for revenge struggling to overcome 
her request. 
He broke her gaze. The decision was made. 
In a single movement, he brought his other hand up 
to grasp the opposite end of the rod, raised his knee, and 
brought the staff down with enough force to break stone. 
The crack of the wood rent the air like a scream. He let 
the pieces drop from his hands and into the water. 
“What have you done?” Martus cried. Flailing in the 
water, he retrieved the broken pieces of wood and cradled 
them in his arms like a babe. “This was sacred. A symbol 
of guidance passed down from the first leader of our 
village.” 
Talon merely scowled, put his fingers in his mouth, 
and whistled. The sound of splashing water reached Aria’s 
ears, and Cam galloped from around a bend in the stream, 
water spraying through the air as he headed towards them. 
The rohha came to a dead stop in front of his master, his 
ears perked forward. 
“You were supposed to guard her,” Talon snarled. 
The rohha pawed at the water, and Aria swore Cam 
looked both sheepish and ashamed. 
“Watch him,” Talon commanded, glancing at Martus. 
“If he tries anything, kill him.” Cam tossed his head and 
positioned himself beside the fallen man, his lips curled 
back to reveal large, solid teeth. 
Nodding in satisfaction, Talon stepped around the pair 
and offered his hand to Aria, helping her to her feet. Water 
streamed from her sodden cloak. 
She leaned her head against his shoulder as they 
walked to the shore, and a sense of peace settled over her 
like a warm blanket. Martus could not hurt her anymore. 
Not with words or deed. Martus was as broken as his 
beloved symbol. 
Kneeling in front of Aria, Talon ran his firm hands 
over her scalp and worked his way across her body. “Did 
he harm you?” 
“I am fine.” Aria wriggled against the attention. “What 
are you doing?” 
“Making sure.” He ran his hands up and down her 
legs, his fingers kneading her muscles and testing her 
flesh. “Are you sure you are not hurt. If he hit you, tell me 

now.” 
Aria shook her head, pulled her braid around, and 
wrung the water from her hair. Droplets spattered to the 
ground. “I am cold, but otherwise unharmed.” 
“Aria.” 
Kisa’s voice, sounding small and alone, caught her 
attention. She had forgotten her young sibling in the panic 
of the moment. Still on the ground where their father had 
pushed her, Kisa’s eyes were wide with fear. 
Kisa hiccupped, and her eyes welled with tears. “This 
is my fault. I should never have snuck out. I am sorry.” 
Aria ran to her. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her 
arms around Kisa’s trembling shoulders. “No, do not 
apologize for this. It is Martus’ fault and no other.” 
“If I had done what he said, you would be safe.” 
“You followed your heart. Do not apologize for that.” 
Leaning back, she wiped away Kisa’s tears. “I am only a 
bit wet. See?” Standing, she held her arms out and turned 
in a circle to show the truth of her words. 
“He tried to beat you.” Kisa covered her face with her 
hands. 
“He tried, but failed.” Aria stopped her slow turn and 
wished, for a moment, that her sister were a Trancer. If 
she were, then she could see the depth of Aria’s love and 
the pain that she endured everyday they were apart. The 
sisters from the Tower had been good to her, but blood 
was blood, and Kisa knew her from her days of skinned 
knees to the awful day of banishment. 
Just as she knew her sister. “Kisa, I would endure a 
hundred beatings to see you again.” 
Kisa raised her tear-streaked face. “And I would endure 
them for you.” 
It was true. Gone was the woman-child who thought 
mocking her father was a game. In her place was a strong 
young woman who understood his shortcomings all too 
well. “I know.” Offering her sister her hand, Aria pulled 
her to her feet. 
Kisa sobbed on her shoulder, clutching her. 
“It is all right,” Aria murmured, stroking Kisa’s hair. 
She looked over her sister’s shoulder to see Talon watching 
them. “Thanks to Talon.” 
He accepted her comment with a tilt of his head and 

walked back to a still stunned Martus. Grabbing him by 
the robe, he pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the 
shore, with Cam following. Water dripped from Martus’ 
robes in rivulets and puddled onto the dirt at the edge of 
the stream. 
The old man jerked his wet robe out of Talon’s grasp. 
“Do not touch me, Warrior.” He spat the title like a curse. 
Aria untangled herself from her sister and kissed Kisa’s 
pale cheek. “Wait here,” she said and went to take her 
place beside Talon. 
“A witch and a fallen Warrior. How fitting you found 
each other,” Martus sneered. 
Aria grasped Talon’s arm. His muscles flexed and 
stiffened beneath her fingers. She squeezed his forearm, 
stopping him with a touch. “Has he agreed to help us?” 
She addressed Talon, ignoring Martus’ comment. 
“I agreed, but it was under duress.” 
She waited for Talon to answer. 
“Yes, as you said, strategy worked best.” 
“He threatened to kill me,” Martus spat. 
Talon shrugged his broad shoulders. “Strategy comes 
in many forms.” 
Aria accepted the answer with a repressed grin. Martus 
was the village leader, never challenged or questioned. 
The threat of bodily harm probably encouraged him more 
than all the money in Zaraza. “When do we speak with 
Gaur?” She looked at Talon. His face was unreadable. 
“Tomorrow. Martus says he is ill and will not waken.” 
“Tomorrow?” She did not relish the idea of spending 
the night in so inhospitable a town. 
“Do not worry.” Talon laid his hand on the hilt of his 
sword. “We bed down in the woods. Cam will keep watch 
through the night as penance for leaving you alone.” 
It would have to do. Still, suspicion reared its head— 
especially where Martus was concerned. “Do you truly 
believe that Gaur is ill? That this is not a ploy to delay us 
or cause us harm?” She knew how convincing Martus 
could be. 
“In this, yes. He is too cowardly to lie under threats.” 
Her father. A coward. Once, she had thought him as 
strong as the staff he carried. Now, she saw the broken 
staff was a shield. A false cover for the fear he carried in 

his heart. 
The fear he would have to live with. 
It was a fitting sentence for one so cruel. 
*** 
“This is it.” Martus stopped in front of a small house. 
Immediately, Talon recognized that this small hut was 
different from the others. The flowerbeds were untended, 
and the small wooden porch was dusty and littered with 
bits of grass. 
Leaving Martus to wait, Talon and Aria stepped 
through the doorway and into the dimly lit room. The air 
was thick with the stench of unwashed linen and the stink 
of infection. Talon wrinkled his nose. 
“What do you think happened?” Putting her hand over 
her mouth and nose, Aria coughed in the foul air. 
“I did not ask,” Talon replied as he walked over and 
squatted at the bedside. Its occupant was pale, and his 
breath rattled in his chest. “But the air is rank with illness.” 
He flipped the covers back, and his hope of waking the 
sick man fell. Every rib showed, and his skin was so thin 
it looked as if it would tear. Martus had said he had been 
asleep for only five suns, but it appeared as if Gaur had 
been ill for much longer. This was a man more dead than 
alive. 
Talon did not see Aria, but he heard her ragged breath 
as she came to stand near him. 
What had he thought to bring her in here? He stood, 
blocking her view. The sight of death distressed her, and 
she had already been through too much. “There is no need 
for you to be here.” He pointed her towards the door. “It 
will be better if you wait outside.” 
She shook him off. “I am not as delicate as you believe. 
Just give me a moment to become used to the smell.” She 
coughed again and wiped the sweat from her brow. 
Again, she proved much stronger than he thought— 
stronger than he sometimes wished. “If you so desire, but 
I will not think worse of you if you decide to wait outside.” 
She shook her head. 
Talon crouched by the bedside, shook Gaur by the 
shoulder, and called his name. “Gaur, awaken. We need 
your help.” 
The bedridden man offered no hint of awareness. 

“What if he does not open his eyes?” Aria stood by 
Talon’s side. “How will we find our son?” 
Or Mako? Talon straightened. The wooden floorboards 
creaked, slat rubbing against slat, as he paced the length 
of the room and back again. “Is there a healer in the next 
village? Someone who could use a medicine to bring him 
around?” 
“As I told you before, there is no one to help.” 
Talon stopped in the middle of the floor. Martus stood 
in the doorway, watching them. 
Glaring, the old man sauntered into the room, his lips 
curled in disdain. “I suppose you must leave here without 
the information you need.” 
Talon’s sword hand twitched in response as he 
contained the urge to shake Aria’s father senseless. “No, 
old man,” he replied. “We will wake him. Somehow.” 
With his staff broken, Martus waved his arms in front 
of him in a useless, agitated gesture. “How? By shouting 
his name? You will wake the village before Gaur opens 
his eyes again.” 
As much as Talon hated the thought, the old man had 
a point. Gaur was past life, past speech, and past 
answering any questions. Unless the Goddess granted 
them a miracle, they would have to seek their answers 
elsewhere. 
“We do not need to shout for our answers, Martus,” 
Aria said, interrupting the pair. “I shall use my gift to 
obtain the answers we need.” 
The air thickened with sudden tension. 
Martus stepped towards Aria, one fist raised and 
shaking. “You will not taint his soul with your evil ways, 
witch.” 
Unsheathing his sword in a single movement, Talon 
pointed the tip towards Aria’s father. “Touch her and die.” 
Martus shot Talon a lethal glance, but he stopped mid-
step. 
“If you fear for Gaur’s soul, you may wait there and 
watch the ceremony.” Using his sword, Talon pointed 
towards a chair that rested under the window at the 
opposite end of the room. It was far enough where he could 
stop Martus if he attempted to hurt Aria or leave, but 
close enough, hopefully, to appease Aria’s father and keep 

him quiet. As much as he detested the old man, he might 
still be useful. “If you approach her again, you shall pay 
in blood.” 
“It is all right.” Aria placed her small hand on the hilt 
of his sword and lowered it to a less threatening position. 
“He cannot hurt me with his words, and with you close, 
he dare not harm me physically.” 
“Still, he waits over there.” 
Martus sat with a grunt and scowl. Talon watched 
him out of the corner of his eye. He did not trust Martus. 
Beneath the gray hair was a brain as rotten as an overripe 
melon. He was cruel as a father and worse as the virtuous 
destroyer. 
“I have no issue with that,” Aria said. Walking over to 
Gaur’s bed, she sat on the edge and brushed his unkempt 
hair away from his face. 
“We banished her to keep her from performing such 
ill-gotten tasks,” Martus hissed from his forced position. 
Talon sheathed his weapon, confident he could pull it 
faster than the old man could move. “You are a fool,” he 
shot back. “Her gifts are from the Goddess, the mother of 
us all.” 
“Bah, the Goddess is a harlot. A whore whose 
worshippers are blasphemers to Thoth, the true god.” 
Talon’s hand went back to the hilt of his sword. “Watch 
your words, old man. I allow you to live because of Aria 
and the teachings of the Goddess. Blaspheme against 
either again, and I will not be able to hold my temper.” 
Martus did not reply, but his lips twitched as he 
mumbled to himself. 
Talon went back to the bed and laid a hand on Aria’s 
shoulder. 
She looked up, her eyes deep with sorrow. “Once, when 
I was young and Gaur’s hair was not yet gray, he brought 
me home. I was gathering herbs and strayed too far to 
return before sundown.” 
Talon tucked a strand of Aria’s hair behind her ear, 
savoring the texture between his fingers. “He was a friend?” 
She shook her head. “He spent the season of cold in 
the woods, hunting animals. In the season of life, he 
traveled, selling the pelts to other villages. I found his 
chosen profession distasteful, but it breaks my heart to 

see anyone in such a state.” 
“Even one who agreed in your banishment?” 
“I do not know that he did. He was not here. Perhaps 
he would have. Perhaps not.” 
“He felt no sorrow for you, witch,” Martus mumbled 
from his chair. 
Both ignored him. Aria took Gaur’s hand in her. “Fear 
makes people do senseless, stupid things. It makes them 
irrational and blind to the good in front of them.” 
Talon knew she spoke not of Gaur but of Martus and 
the entire town of Laini. He gave her shoulder a comforting 
squeeze, hating that he had brought her here to relive the 
pain of separation. “Can you use your powers to see if he 
will recover?” 
“It does not take a Trancer to see he will not. His heart 
is but a whisper beating in his chest.” 
“Then you will enter his mind?” 
Aria nodded. “Yes.” She glanced at her father and 
motioned Talon to move closer. “Make sure he does not 
call for help. If my body is hurt while I am away, it could 
cause complications.” 
Talon crossed his arms over his chest. “What kind of 
complications?” 
“I could become lost in the currents and be unable to 
return.” 
The blood drained from Talon’s face at her words, and 
for a moment, he was back in the Tower holding a 
seemingly lifeless Aria in his arms. All the pain and rage 
and loss overwhelmed his senses once again. 
He could not survive the loss a second time—not even 
to find Mako. “Why have you never told me this before?” 
His voice sounded harsh, too harsh, in his ears, as he 
held in his anger and fear. 
She shrugged. “Why would I? It is a rare occurrence, 
and a Trancer is seldom in a situation where such an 
accident could happen.” She glanced towards Martus. 
“Given the circumstances, I think it a risk, but if you keep 
Martus here it is one I am willing to take.” 
“I am not.” He could not let her Trance, not if it put 
her at risk. 
She pressed her lips together. “You cannot stop me. 
Even if we did not need the information, I must help Gaur. 

It is obvious he needs assistance to reach the other side, 
and it is my duty to provide it.” 
“No.” Talon uncrossed his arms and pulled her from 
the bedside and to her feet. “I cannot allow it.” 
“Do you fear my gifts?” Aria asked. “Is that what this 
is about?” 
“No, I do not fear you.” He stroked a strand of hair 
away from her cheek. “I fear for you.” 
She smiled. “I am pleased to hear you say so.” 
The smile both jarred and annoyed him. “This is not a 
game. There is a real danger, and I promised to keep you 
safe. If I had known before of the risk, I would never have 
let you Trance.” His stomach lurched as he thought of all 
the times he could have lost her. She searched for a dead 
son and could have died herself. 
She rested a soft hand against his cheek. “I am a 
Trancer. This is not what I do. It is what I am.” 
“I will not have it.” She might be a Trancer, but he 
was a Warrior bound to keep her from harm’s way. 
Her smile disappeared. She jerked her hand away and 
sat on the wooden floor next to the bed, her legs crossed. 
“ I will enter Trancer state.” She flashed him a defiant 
stare. “Guard me.” 
Talon took a deep breath. “It is too dangerous.” 
She rested her head in her hands for a few moments, 
drumming her fingers against her scalp. Finally, she looked 
up, her eyes still flashing. “How can I make you understand 
my need to do this?” 
“Understanding is not the issue. I do understand, 
apparently better than you. I understand you could die, 
and I would be left with another body to bury.” 
Another life to mourn. 
“I will be fine with you watching over me,” Aria insisted. 
“Can you guarantee you will come back to me 
unharmed?” Talon knew the answer, but he hoped the 
question would make her see reason. 
“No.” Her tone was clipped. “There are no guarantees. 
There never are. You know that.” 
“Then this discussion is over. I cannot let you risk 
your life for a stranger.” 
“What of Tarik? Can you say that our son is not worth 
the risk?” 

“Our son is dead, Aria. I know you do not want to 
believe it, but it is true.” 
Her eyes narrowed, but no tears appeared. Perhaps it 
was perverse, but her strength of heart and hope impressed 
him, even if she was wrong. 
She turned away. “Revenge blinds you. Faith would 
clear your vision, if you would let it.” 
Why did she not listen? He shook his head at her 
stubbornness. “Common sense gives me the wisdom to 
know Mako would not take a Trancer and a newborn babe 
with him on a journey through the mountains. His world 
is made of blood and screams. There is no room for mercy, 
and no amount of wishing and hoping will make that true.” 
“Perhaps there is room. Can you not even consider 
another option?” 
“He killed your people, Aria. How can you think such 
a thing?” 
“Because he let my son and best friend live.” 
A scrape sounded, and Talon turned to see Martus 
rising from his chair. The old man had heard everything. 
Talon pulled his sword again and strode over to him. 
“You. Wait.” He pointed towards the chair with the flat of 
his weapon. It looked as if the old man wanted to say 
something, but Talon shot him a lethal glance. Martus’ 
jaw snapped shut, and he sat back down in the chair. 
Talon sheathed his sword. By the Goddess, he had 
thought Aria was getting better, coming back to reality. 
He saw now that he had deluded himself as surely as she 
did. She wanted her son so badly she created a world 
where he lived. 
Still, he could put tragedy off for another day. Right 
now, he needed to keep her alive and safe, and that meant 
no Trancing. They would simply find another way to find 
Mako. They would return to Zaraza, and he could talk to 
Ciella again. Perhaps more information had come to her 
since their departure. It was unlikely, but it was an option, 
unlike Aria’s idea. 
It was time to end this conversation. He turned on his 
heel. “No matter your desires, I cannot allow you to do 
this.” 
She still sat on the floor, but her eyes were rolled back 
in her head. Only the whites showed. 

He was too late. She had already left. 
*** 
Aria swam through the currents, searching for the light 
that was Gaur. Finally, in what felt like a turn, but was 
merely a moment in time, she spotted him through streams 
of color. Faint and pulsing, his life spark glowed with a 
yellow light. She called with her mind, her thoughts. 
Gaur. 
She saw the life spark flicker and felt the response in 
her head. His tone sounded young, not old and ill like the 
body in the bed. 
Have you come to take me to the other side, oh bright 
one? 
No. She had only a moment to wonder how he saw her 
before his being hit her like a fist, making all thought 
impossible. So much emotion and all at once. He mourned. 
He cried. He was frightened and relieved. His desire to 
cross over was mirrored by the fear that he would. His 
desperation engulfed her. 
With a mental cry, she pulled away before he 
overwhelmed her. Please, I cannot stay if you do not control 
yourself. She forced her thoughts past his fear to make 
him understand. 
Do not leave me alone. Take me with you. His mournful 
wail ripped through her, and she wavered with the 
intensity 
If she were in her physical form, she would have sighed. 
Unable to waken and unable to cross over, he was 
desperate. His very essence oozed fear. She could not blame 
him. 
Listen to me, she called again. I come asking a favor. 
Help me, and perhaps I can help you. Using all her power, 
she forced her need, her sense of urgency through him. 
It seemed to work. She felt him calm in the face of a 
need more vital than his own. 
How can I help? I am dead.
No, you are not dead, Aria answered
Then why can I not wake? I am blind in this void. His
life-spark flickered, not understanding. 
His sense of distress rose again. 
You see me, she reminded him, forcing him to 
concentrate on something other than his predicament. 

Yes, but your light is as bright as a sun, a seraph’s 
glory come to take me to Thoth’s temple. 
Aria gave another mental sigh. I am neither a seraph 
nor a god’s emissary. You are not dead, but neither do you 
live. You are stuck. Unable to enter the other side. Unable 
to waken. 
Then, who are you? What are you? 
Aria heard caution in the thought. A friend, she replied, 
hiding her inner self behind a tight shield. She did not 
know his feelings about her banishment and had no time 
to look. Her strength was limited in this realm, and 
conversing with Gaur was using most of it. 
Help me awaken if friend you are. 
She wished she could. It is not in my power. A current, 
deep blue in feeling, slid through her. 
You are neither seraph nor healer. What use are you 
to me? Gaur asked. His light dimmed, heavy with 
disappointment, and moved away, forcing her to follow. 
Gaur, believe what you like, but I am a friend. I cannot 
heal you, but I can help you. But first you must help me. 
You felt my need. How can you ignore it? Aria held a mental 
breath. 
Gaur’s life force stopped moving and shimmered with 
color. Tell me what you wish. 
The Reapers. I would know where they are. 
Fear. Blind fear. Gaur’s panic crashed over her. No. I 
cannot. They will kill me. 
You are already dead, Aria answered. 
You said I lived. 
Your body does. Aria tried to bury her frustration at 
his lack of understanding, but knew some of it showed in 
her tone of thought. Only because you hang onto it like a 
child clutches a favorite toy. Show me the Reapers, and I 
will help you release that which no longer matters, and 
you can cross to the other side. 
Taking a mental breath, she calmed herself and tried 
to emanate tranquil thoughts in an effort to calm the 
stricken man. 
One heartbeat, then another passed. 
Why do you want to find the Reapers? 
She sent him one simple thought. They have my son, 
and then, she showed him. She gave him the agony of 

Tarik’s birth, the thrill of holding the new life, and then 
the inimitable sorrow at losing that which she pushed 
forth from her own body. Opening herself, she shared all 
the pain and loss, and all the joy and love, that went with 
having, and losing, a child. 
No more. Gaur’s cry halted her projection, his spark 
overwhelmed by sorrow. Please, Aria. No more. I will give 
you what you want. 
You know me? 
Yes. 
You will still help? 
Witch, Trancer, or woman, I cannot turn my back on 
your pain. Not when I can help. 
Within a heartbeat, a breath, a flicker of time, he 
opened his mind to her, and she knew. She saw it all. She 
knew where the Reapers hid. She saw their Keep, high in 
the mountains and below it the village of Mardid. 
He showed her more, more than she wanted to see. 
She saw how Gaur went to Mardid to sell his skins and 
was taken by the Reapers for an imagined affront. She 
felt his constant fear of being beaten and killed. 
She tried to pull away, but he held her close in his 
thoughts. I bore your pain, Aria. Now bear mine and 
understand. 
He was right. She stopped struggling and let the flashes 
of emotion and life flow through her. Another slave. 
Warner. He helped Gaur. Brought him food and showed 
him the best places to rest. The places where the vermin 
of the earth were fewer. 
Warner, escaping with Gaur and then falling from a 
great height. Gaur, helpless as his friend died in his arms. 
Gaur running. No prayers and no parting promise, he left 
Warner unburied, lest he lie next to him in the endless 
sleep. 
This was what haunted his life-spark. This was the 
act left undone, and in Gaur’s eyes, unpunished. It was 
why he did not, could not, cross. 
You did what was necessary. You survived. Aria 
touched Gaur with the gentle thought. 
How can I believe that when I left him in the mud? Not 
a word passed my lips in parting. I ran like a coward. 
If you had stayed, you would have died. 

Better death than this void. 
He was right in that matter. The currents were a force 
of life and of nature. Aria navigated them, but even she 
carried an enormous respect for their savage beauty. To 
be stuck in them would be unbearable. Even a Trancer’s 
time was limited, not just by necessity, but also by choice. 
And her time was almost up. Gaur had helped her, 
now it was time to return the favor. What can I do? Your 
friend is undoubtedly already buried. 
When you find the Reapers, do what I could not and 
say the proper words. Let him find the path to the afterlife 
with your prayers. 
I will do as you ask. Taking the burden from Gaur’s 
shoulders, she placed it on her own. 
Thanks and acceptance passed from Gaur to her. His 
life-force glowed like the sun upon the fields, and bliss 
filled her, a gift from Gaur as he passed. His light went 
out like a flame in the wind. 
He crossed. 

Sixteen 
The midday sun passed its zenith, and Aria still sat in 
Trancer state. Talon paced, waiting for her to awaken. He 
glanced at Martus. The old man still sat in the chair, his 
eyes half closed in the heat, head tilted back. 
It surprised him that Aria’s father was not more 
agitated and eager for her to either waken or fail in her 
quest, but if he caught any of their previous conversation, 
he probably thought her lost. 
Talon prayed the old man was wrong. 
A loud gasp punctured the silence, and Talon turned 
on his heel to see Aria’s eyes roll forward, returning to 
normal. For a moment, she stared vacant-eyed and 
confused, like a dreamer woken in mid-sleep. His heart 
pounded. Then, she focused on him, and awareness crept 
back into her eyes, bringing her back. The tension drained 
from his body. Praise the Goddess. He had not lost her to 
the currents. 
His concerns about Martus disappeared as he rushed 
to her side and pulled her up. With one hand clenched in 
her hair and the other wrapped around her slim waist, he 
held her close as “what ifs” crowded his thoughts. 
“Talon, I cannot breathe,” Aria said, her voice muffled 
by his shoulder. 
He relaxed his grip. 
She leaned back in his arms and traced his scar, from 
brow to jaw, with the pad of her thumb. “Were you 
worried?” 
Worried? She acted as if she had done nothing more 
than take a midday nap, not as if she had just risked her 
life—and his peace of mind—for a slim chance at 
information. “There would be no need to ask if you had 
listened to me and not taken such a foolish chance.” 
She glanced down at Gaur. He lay still, unmoving. 
She looked back at Talon, her jaw set. “I did what I was 
born to do—trained to do.” 
Talon frowned. She was not oblivious to the danger 
she had put herself in. She simply chose to ignore it. 
And him. “The next time I make a decision, I expect 
you to abide by it.” 

“Even if it is a foolish decision?” She asked, her voice 
tight. 
“If I make a decision, it is for a reason, and not a 
foolish one. Generally, it is to protect you from harm.” 
Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped back from his 
arms. “As you can see, I am fine. I did the right thing. I 
made the right decision.” 
“You are lucky,” he countered. 
“I am skilled.” 
“There was another option. You did not have to risk 
yourself.” 
“What would you have proposed?” 
“We could have traveled back to Zaraza.” 
“And wasted more time?” Aria stared at him in disgust. 
“You brought me here to find the Reapers, and that is 
what I did. I know where they are.” 
She had done it! Despite his anger, hope flared. 
Aria continued, “I want my child back as soon as 
possible, and you want to find your revenge. I do not 
understand why you are so willing to keep me from helping 
both of us to gain our desire.” 
Before Talon could reply for either good or ill, a man’s 
hoarse shout caught his attention. Both he and Aria 
turned. Martus. Talon had forgotten him in the heat of 
their argument, but it seemed the old man had not 
forgotten them. 
Or Gaur. 
Martus stood at the end of the bed. Shaking, he 
straightened and pointed a finger at Aria. He opened his 
mouth, but only a strangled cry emerged, as he picked up 
his robes and ran for the door. 
Talon swore under his breath and pulled his sword. 
The old man would be the death of them. A delicate hand 
stopped his from unsheathing it completely. 
“Let him go,” she said. 
Even though the villagers were untrained, they were 
many, and such a crowd could prove dangerous. “I cannot 
have him incite the others to harm you.” 
The pressure of her hand on his remained steady. “He 
will not, at least not for a while. Most of the villagers are 
as much a coward as Martus. They will not attack until 
nighttime, when they would hope to catch us unawares.” 

Even if she were correct, he could not risk her life for 
a second time today. “Then we should leave, be well away 
before...” 
Even as he voiced the words, he knew she did not 
hear them. Instead, she turned away to tend to Guar. 
Crossing his hands over his chest, she pulled the thin 
blanket around his equally thin frame and closed his 
sightless eyes. And though the dead man had not been a 
friend, Talon knew Aria mourned him. 
A trickle of guilt threaded its way through his psyche. 
He should have been kinder when she emerged. He did 
not want to fight with her. He wanted to keep her safe, 
stroke her hair, and tell her that he would always take 
care of her. 
Mostly, he wanted her to understand that whenever 
she took a chance with her life, part of him died while he 
waited to see if she would emerge victorious. 
But he could not say the words. To say them would 
bring her closer to his heart, and closer meant weakness— 
at least where he was going. He could not have that. Not 
now. Not when they were getting nearer to Mako by the 
day. 
Aria straightened, tugging on her wrinkled tunic. “We 
should give him to the ground.” 
There was no time for such niceties. Talon shook his 
head. “That is for the villagers to do.” 
She bit her lip, and even through her sorrow, he saw 
the defiance in her eyes. “I entered his mind. They will not 
help him now. It is our duty to send him to the Goddess 
and sing his spirit.” 
She was right, it was their duty, but he had a higher 
calling. “No. You have taken enough chances today, and 
you can see what that has wrought.” 
Hands on her hips, Aria raised a scarlet brow. “I do 
what I think best and will continue to do so.” 
“By the Goddess,” Talon growled, his tolerance at an 
end. “You are as stubborn as that rohha that dumped you 
in the river. I will not let you do what you want if it means 
sacrificing yourself.” 
She stormed to the other side of the room and yanked 
the pale window coverings down, ripping them from the 
nails that kept them in place. The afternoon sun caught 

her through the window, setting her hair afire in its light. 
She looked like a defiant, powerful Goddess—one he 
wanted to both worship and protect. “You cannot stop 
me. We are not bonded in the holy ceremony. You have no 
say in what I can and cannot do.” 
She stormed back, shoved past him and began 
wrapping the body. 
Whether she was as beautiful as the Goddess or not, 
she was as mortal as he. Gripping her shoulders, he pulled 
her to him. “Perhaps we are not bonded in ritual, but we 
are joined. Moreover, I am the leader of this quest, and 
you come with me only on the promise that you do as I 
ask, or do you forget?” If she would not agree with him, 
she would obey him. 
“Then I will stay here.” She shook him off. “You are 
free to continue on without me.” 
“That is not an option.” 
“Then you can wait.” 
“I cannot protect you from so many people, and you 
cannot handle a sword.” 
Chest to chest, she glared up at him, her breath heavy 
with anger. “I may not be able to handle a blade, but do 
not make the mistake of equating inexperience with 
incompetence. I am your equal. I may not have a Warrior’s 
courage or skill, but I possess a Trancer’s talent. It may 
not mean much to you, but it means everything to me, 
and I will not have you interfering with my duty.” 
“It is not your courage or ability that is in question,” 
Talon said through gritted teeth. 
“You lie.” Aria’s voice rose. “You balk in letting me 
face the same possibilities, the same sacrifices, that you 
do. You deny me that which you freely claim. So, do not 
stand here and tell me of your confidence in me. Your 
very reluctance tells me more than words.” 
She turned away, only to sag against the wall. “Why 
can you not believe in me like I believe in you?” Her voice 
was quiet now. 
Too quiet. 
Still, he could not say the words that would erase her 
uncertainties. He could not tell her that the doubt was 
not in her. It was in him. She held his life, his happiness, 
in the palm of her small hand, and he feared that to speak 

his faith in her would only give her another excuse to risk 
herself. 
He sighed. “Aria, we do not have the time to do this.” 
“We will make time.” The sadness in her voice stirred 
him, and any remaining anger vanished in the face of her 
pain. Besides, he knew he was the loser in this argument. 
The more time he wasted trying to make her see reason, 
the more he put her in danger. “It will be as you wish, but 
we must hurry.” 
Relaxing, she sat on the bed to finish the task of 
wrapping Guar. “Thank you.” She wound the cloth over 
the dead man’s face. “He gave me what we needed. I owe 
him a peaceful afterlife.” 
What they needed? She had mentioned it before, but 
he had lost the thought as they argued. “What did he tell 
you?” 
“The Reapers take refuge in an abandoned Keep that 
lies just above the village of Mardid.” 
“On the other side of Mard’s pass?” He remembered 
the village well. Known for its remarkable wine and even 
more remarkable women, as a Reaper, he had been there 
on numerous occasions to sample both. 
She glanced up from her task and gave him a curious 
look. “You have been to Mardid? From Gaur’s memories it 
seemed to be quite distant.” 
Talon hesitated. Perhaps it was time to tell her of his 
past. He owed her that much of an explanation. 
No. There would be time for the truth afterwards. “I 
have heard of it, that is all.” 
With a shrug, she turned to finish preparing Gaur. 
Talon walked outside and began digging Guar’s grave 
in one of the flowerbeds that decorated the small area. 
After Mako was dead, he vowed he would tell Aria of 
his past. Then, if she left, he could face it. If he died, the 
truth would not matter. 
*** 
Aria stood outside her family’s home and waited to 
see if either her mother or siblings would answer her call 
of farewell. She needed to say her good-byes, but did not 
want to enter Martus’ domain. It held too many bad 
memories, too many beatings, and too much fear. 
Even more painful were the good memories—playing 

in the garden with Kisa and Anok, helping Mother gather 
herbs, or simply laying in the grass and watching the sky 
with her brother and sister by her side. She had never 
thought it would end. 
Then, in a moment, it all changed, and she was 
banished as a witch. She sighed and leaned against the 
fence to wait. 
“The sun nears the horizon. We must leave.” Talon 
squeezed her shoulder. 
She nodded. “I know.” She turned into him, not caring 
if he was reluctant to hold her—only knowing she needed 
comfort. 
His arms tightened around her. 
The squeal of a door carried through the cooling air, 
and Aria turned, hopes rising in a surge. 
Kisa. Only Kisa. 
Aria’s hope fell, knowing that her mother and Anok 
waited inside for her to depart. She took a deep breath, 
reminding herself that Anok was still young, and Mother’s 
fear ran deep. Not of me, she thought, but of Martus. 
If her father found Mother speaking with Aria, the 
consequences would be severe, and Mother was older now. 
Broken. 
And at least she could speak her farewell to Kisa. 
Pulling the heavy door shut, her sister ran towards 
them. Aria let a smile play on her lips even though their 
good-byes would be short. 
Her sister reached her and grabbed her in an embrace. 
“Must you leave?” 
Aria nodded and clutched her tightly, knowing she 
would probably never hold her again. “Yes.” 
Cam snorted, drawing Aria’s attention. Talon was 
already mounted. “I will wait over here.” He pointed the 
rohha towards the dirt road that passed by the cottage. 
Kisa pulled away. “When will you return?” 
Aria reached out and twirled one of her sister’s deep 
red curls around her finger. How did you tell your blood, 
your heart, that you would never return? That you would 
never laugh with her again. That you would not be there 
on her day of bonding ceremony. 
You just did it. It was like pulling a thorn. You did it 
fast and quick. Otherwise, you would lose the courage 

needed. She let the curl slip from her fingers. “I cannot 
come back.” 
Her sister’s smile disappeared. “You mean that you 
cannot come back soon.” 
Aria took a deep breath. Kisa was not making this 
easy, but then, even as a child, she had always wanted 
her own way. At least it was honest. “No. I mean never.” 
She smoothed her sister’s hair back with her free hand. 
“If I come back, it will only makes things harder for you, 
Anok, and Mother. Besides, Father will never allow me to 
see you again.” 
Kisa waved the comment away with a blithe flourish. 
“I can handle Father, and he dare not harm you with Talon 
to protect you.” 
Aria gave a sad smile. “I wish it were so simple.” 
“It is, if you want it to be.” 
“No. It is not. Even now, Father speaks with the village, 
trying to rally them against me.” 
“It does not matter. They will do nothing. Fear rules 
them. Come back after you find Tarik. Bring your son for 
me to see.” 
Aria hung her head and rubbed her eyes with the heels 
of her palms, wishing Kisa would not make this harder. 
“You can always sneak back,” Kisa suggested. “I will 
leave a big stone by the tree where we last sat, and you 
can leave a note under it. Then, we can meet and—” 
It was time to end the pretense. “No.” 
Kisa’s jaw snapped shut. “What do you mean? No rock 
or no tree?” 
“I mean no note.” 
“Why not? Why deny me this?” 
Aria squeezed back the tears. She could not cry. Not 
now. If she let the tears come, she feared they would never 
stop. “I cannot promise to return, because I do not know 
what is going to happen. Talon could die. I could die.” 
Kisa took a step back, her eyes wide. “Do not say such 
things. You have Talon. He will not let anything happen 
to you.” 
“I did not say I would give him a choice,” Aria replied, 
knowing even as she spoke the words it would be better if 
she kept silent. But there was little she did not tell her 
sister, and old habits died hard. 

Kisa did not reply, but her alarm grew and washed 
over Aria in a thick wave. 
Aria bit her lip, not wanting to explain, but knowing 
she had too. “Talon is so full of anger that all he can see is 
death. I cannot gain our son, only to lose his father. I do 
not know how, but I must save them both, even if it means 
confronting the Reapers without him.” 
“You cannot do this. He is trained in war. Let him do 
what he must to save your son.” 
Aria’s temper flared. “I may be a Trancer, but do not 
ask me to sit idly by while Talon pays in blood.” She took 
a deep breath, trying to rein in her anger. “I am trained in 
people. I know their desires. My skills can save both Talon 
and lives if he would just let me help.” She grabbed Kisa’s 
hands in hers. “Promise me that you will not tell Talon 
what I have said.” 
“You are my sister.” Kisa glanced over her shoulder, 
towards the spot where Talon and Cam waited. 
“Promise me,” Aria demanded. 
The tension swelled in the silence. Finally, Kisa hung 
her head. “I will do as you ask, but only if you swear that 
you will not do anything foolish.” 
It was enough. “I swear.” 
Kisa looked up. “By the Goddess?” 
Aria nodded, grateful to offer some hope. 
They stared at each other for a moment, and then 
Kisa chuckled, breaking the tension. “I see that Talon is 
skilled and worldly and assumed he should take care of 
you, not you of him. I did not know that women could do 
such things.” 
“I would rather we take care of each other,” Aria 
murmured. Her sister was young and only knew the village. 
She did not know that women could be so much more 
than a man’s slave, or that some men did not hit. They 
caressed. 
Then again, neither had she seen death in its hideous 
glory, nor lost an entire way of life to a band of murderers. 
Kisa nodded knowingly. “If it is any consolation, I think 
it is his caring, not duty, that drives him to protect you.” 
She knew what her sister meant. Their father and 
mother’s bonding had been arranged, and all knew he 
took the vow out of duty, not love. 

Kisa continued. “I see it in the way he watches you. 
When you are busy, he stares at you like a thirsty man 
stares at a pool of water.” 
Aria paused. “Truly?” 
Her sister’s mouth gaped open at the comment. “How 
could you not see this? He thirsts for you, sister. It makes 
me wish I were you, just so I could know that deep a love.” 
Aria shook her head. “I think he cares for me and even 
desires me, but I do not think he loves me.” 
“Then why does he keep you by his side?” 
“My own stubbornness,” Aria said with a short laugh, 
remembering his face when she refused to leave. He had 
been so frustrated his brow burned red. 
Kisa squeezed her hand. “For a Trancer, you are dense. 
He could have forced you to a Tower, under guard, if he 
so chose.” 
Aria gave a snort of disbelief. “I would have escaped. I 
did the first time.” 
“Perhaps, but he would have been more cautious the 
second.” Kisa pulled her close and whispered in her ear. 
“He does love you, Aria. He may not know it, and you may 
not believe it, but he does. And what’s more, you love 
him.” 
Could it be true? Did Kisa see what she could not? 
“Aria.” Talon called her name. 
Cam danced impatiently, wanting to leave as if he 
sensed the tension in the air. 
It was time to depart. “Kisa, I do not know what will 
happen, but I do hope you are right.” 
“I want you to promise me that you will live so you 
can tell me I was.” She squeezed Aria to her. 
“I cannot come back, but I will send word.” Aria said 
and backed slowly away, her arms sliding down Kisa’s 
until only their fingertips touched. 
Then, that too, was gone. 

Seventeen 
“Why should I help you?” The young man’s brown hair, 
cut short, revealed a face far too old for one barely past 
the bonding years. 
Talon breathed deeply. With over ten suns of hard 
travel behind him, it felt good to sit on something besides 
Cam, but the pleasure was short-lived. The tavern was 
full this evening, the air thick with pipe smoke as men of 
all ages sat on long benches, their elbows resting on wobbly 
wooden tables. The setting was the same as Barias’ and 
countless other alehouses, except that suspicion and 
muttering replaced the friendly banter and gaming. 
He supposed living in fear did that to a people. 
“Well?” The young man stared, waiting. 
Talon rolled his half-empty mug between his palms 
and gave the only answer he could. “Freedom.” 
“I am no slave,” was the terse reply, followed by a 
snort of disbelief as the lad raised his tankard and threw 
back a mouthful of ale. 
Talon glanced around the tavern and hoped not all 
people in Mardid wore similar blinders. If so, his and Aria’s 
quest would be impossible to complete. He wondered how 
she fared outside, and if she were still angry that she 
watched Cam while he gathered information. Talon smiled 
to himself. His Given was a doer, not a watcher. 
He loved that about her. 
It was also why she waited outside. 
“Are you done with your questions?” 
The lad finished his ale and made to rise. 
Talon stopped him with a firm hand on his forearm. 
”You claim no master, but I say different. You are as much 
a slave to the Reapers as the women they steal.” 
The lad sat back down, his lips pressed tight. 
Talon let go. “You let the Reapers do as they please for 
fear they will kill either you or your loved ones. You give 
your crops to a lord who gives back neither protection nor 
money nor help in the fields.” 
Talon took a swig of his drink. The icy coldness of the 
liquid calmed him, and he wiped his mouth with the back 
of his hand. “You are a slave. Not bought and paid for, 

but a slave just the same.” 
“Why do you care?” The lad’s voice carried no farther 
than the distance between them. He glanced down at 
Talon’s side. “You carry a Reaper’s sword. You might be 
one of them, trying to lure me into a fight, or you might 
have killed one. Either way, I’m a dead man if I follow 
you.” 
Despite his wary words, the lad was intrigued. Talon 
saw the hope in his eyes, and it was greater than the 
suspicion in his voice. “If I were a Reaper, I would not 
need a reason to fight. I would challenge you, and you 
would defend yourself or die. As for taking my sword from 
another, it is how all Reapers earn their weapons. We take 
our enemies honor and add the blood stone.” His leather-
clad hand fell to rest on the hilt of his sword. “My weapon 
has a sordid history. I cannot deny it.” 
“You are a Reaper.” The young man’s eyes grew large 
as hope died and fear filled the void. 
“I was.” Talon hoped his story would not frighten the 
young man further away, but he deserved to know truth 
if he was going to fight, and maybe die, for Talon’s cause. 
“It was a long time ago, before I found the path to honor. 
It is something I would prefer to forget, something I tried 
to forget, but I cannot. Not until Mako lies on a burial 
pyre.” 
The young man still eyed Talon with a wary gaze. “I 
hear the Reapers never let one of their own go.” 
“They did not let me go. I went on a scouting mission 
and never returned.” 
The young man leaned forward and stared at Talon, 
searching his face as if he read his thoughts. Talon met 
his gaze straight on. If the lad wanted to see the truth of 
his words, then let him. 
The silence went on as the people around them talked. 
The sound of a tankard shattering on the hard floor cut 
through the air. 
Finally, the young man nodded and settled back into 
his seat. “Why did you leave?” 
He believed him. Relief draped over Talon like a dry 
cloak on a rainy day, but the story was not over yet. “The 
senselessness. The lack of purpose other than the day’s 
bounty. There had to be more to life than slaughter.” 

“What did you do after you left?” 
“I joined the Warrior clan.” 
“The Warriors?” The lad raised a dark brow. “That’s a 
far cry from the Reapers, is it not?” 
It was the exact opposite in belief and reason. His first 
days with the Clan flashed through Talon’s mind. They 
distrusted him, and with reason, but he proved himself 
by passing the Ritual of Acceptance and later, in honorable 
battle. “They took my skills, honed them, and gave me 
discipline. They brought honor and reason into my life.” 
“So why come back? Returning to Reaper country does 
not sound reasonable to me.” He shook his head. “In fact, 
it sounds mad.” 
“Mako killed my son.” The words tasted bitter in his 
mouth. “I seek revenge.” 
“Revenge? Is that not contrary to the teaching of the 
Warriors?” 
“Yes, but I am no longer a Warrior.” Talon waited, 
listening to the alehouse conversations and arguments 
carry on around them. Would the lad help, and if so, would 
others follow as well? 
The boy across from him leaned forward, hands 
clasped in front of him. “Why should I trust a man without 
allegiance?” 
“Better a man who fights for what he believes in than 
a man who remains untrue to himself out of blind loyalty.” 
He nodded. “Point taken.” Raising his hand, he 
signaled the barkeep for another tankard. Both men sat 
in silence until the serving wench left. The lad raised his 
mug and took a long drink. “Why me?” 
Talon let the ale remain untouched. “What do you 
mean?” 
The lad gestured with the mug. “You could have told 
your story to anyone here. I will not deny your story— 
your request—intrigues me, but you should watch your 
words. Not all here fear the Reapers. In fact, some are 
paid to give them information on men such as you.” 
“Thank you for the warning, but I knew you were safe 
to speak with.” 
“How?” 
Talon leaned forward. He had trusted the lad this far, 
now to tell him the rest. “I travel with a Trancer—“ 

“A Trancer?” The surprise in the lad’s voice made the 
words carry farther than Talon liked. 
Talon grabbed the front of the boy’s shirt, jerking him 
forward. “Shut up.” The command was deliberate and 
harsh. “Or you will give us away.” 
The lad struggled to dislodge Talon’s hands, but he 
could not move them. “Did she read my thoughts?” 
“No. She is true to her calling and would never read 
another’s thoughts except in healing or with consent.” 
“Then how did she pick me from the others?” 
“She scanned the area for emotions, not thoughts. She 
touched on your dislike of the Reapers and something 
more.” Talon leaned forward, pulling the lad until they 
were head to head. “She felt resistance.” His whisper of 
truth barely stirred the air. 
The lad dropped his hands. “Forgive me. You surprised 
me.” 
“Understandable.” Talon released his grip, and the 
lad fell back into his seat. 
Glancing about, it did not surprise Talon that the rest 
of the patrons ignored them. When living in fear, one 
learned not to become involved in anything. 
The young man tilted his head in acquiescence. “She 
was right, but she did miss one fact.” 
“That is?” 
“There are others.” 
A surge of victory shot through Talon. He tamped it 
down. He had gained the lad’s trust, but it was only the 
first win in what would probably be a bloody fight. One 
did not celebrate the battle; one celebrated the war. “The 
others, do they feel the same way?” 
“Some do. Others are more timid in their hate.” He 
shrugged, his nonchalant exterior a lie when compared 
with the fire in his eyes. “The old men fear death, but for 
many of the young ones, this life is death. We can do 
nothing without fearing the Reapers. They take our food, 
and our children starve. They take our women and turn 
them into whores.” 
The lad’s eyes glittered. “I have a sister. She will soon 
be a woman, and I will not have her taken against her 
will.” 
Aria was right. Talon smiled grimly. This young man 

was ready to fight. “If oppression is what you claim it to 
be, what has kept you from attacking your oppressors?” 
“We can wield weapons, but we know little of battle or 
strategy. Even if we managed to get into the Keep, we 
would all be dead within a breath.” 
It was what he had hoped to hear. They had desire, 
but no leader to shape it, focus it, and forge them into a 
fighting unit. 
They needed him. 
“There are more ways to conquer than by the sword.” 
“What do you suggest? We are but a few men.” 
“There is the cover of darkness and stealth. Sometimes 
a war is not won with battle cries and waving weapons. 
Instead, it is won with quiet footsteps and a dagger in the 
ribs.” Would they follow? 
The young man smiled. “My name is Orrin.” 
“I am Talon.” If he did not believe, Orrin would not 
have given his name, and if he believed, then so would 
others. 
*** 
Standing next to Cam, Aria shifted from one foot to 
the other, watching the townspeople bustle about her. 
Across the hard-packed dirt street, a produce vendor 
haggled with a woman wearing a red scarf on her head. 
“Four coins for eggs? You must be mad.” The woman 
in the scarf made as if to leave. 
“Three. Three coins, and you are breaking me.” The 
vendor wiped the back of his meaty hand over his sweaty 
forehead, emphasizing his troubles. 
The woman turned back. “One coin.” 
“One?” The vendor’s shriek rose above the general din. 
The red-scarfed woman shrugged her shoulders. “It is 
the offer.” 
“Two, and I will be a poor man by the time you leave.” 
“One and a half.” 
The vendor hesitated, and Aria sighed. He was going 
to take the money. This was all part of the dance. She had 
been watching him since Talon left her outside to wait, 
and his act never changed. Sometimes the amount 
changed, but never the act. The red-scarfed woman was 
not making as good a bargain as she thought. Earlier, a 
man bought the same amount for less than a single coin. 

“She should have held firm,” Aria muttered, reaching 
out to stroke Cam’s nose. 
The rohha pulled away, but he tossed his head as if in 
uneasy agreement. 
Aria turned her attention to the merchant just down 
from the produce vendor, but it was the same conversation. 
Only about wine. 
A sigh escaped her lips. She would give her boots for 
the simple entertainment of a juggler. 
What was taking Talon so long? 
The door to the tavern opened, and the squeal of rusty 
hinges caught Aria’s attention. A short figure, face hidden 
by a heavy brown cloak, emerged from the tavern. 
It was not Talon. Aria’s boredom and irritation grew. 
She had hoped, after their trip, that Talon’s fear for her 
safety would dwindle. After all, no mishaps had occurred, 
and neither man nor animal had threatened them. 
Instead, his heart grew more distant the closer they 
got to Mako. As foolish as it was, she had hoped the 
uneventful journey would make him rethink his vow of 
revenge, but in her soul, she knew his hate for Mako was 
stronger than any words she spoke or example she set. 
Now, after going against her own judgment and helping 
Talon find a possible ally, she was left to wait while he set 
his plans into motion. 
It would have been nice to be included in the planning, 
but perhaps it was better Talon separated from her. It 
would make what she was going to do easier for both of 
them to accept. 
“Mistress.” A hushed voice called to her from the side 
of the tavern. 
In reflex, Aria turned. It was the hooded figure that 
had emerged from the tavern only moments ago. 
She took a step back. 
“Do not be alarmed.” The figure threw the hood back 
to reveal the delicate face of a young woman. Her hair, as 
black as a starless sky, curled and framed her high 
cheekbones. “I am a friend.” 
Her voice, although barely audible above the sounds 
of the street, was as beautiful as her features. A tinge of 
envy shot through Aria. She fingered the end of her braid, 
the grit from the road thick in her hair and coarse under 

her fingertips. “A friend?” Those were bold words for a 
stranger. She let her braid swing back behind her. “I know 
nobody here.” 
The woman smiled, revealing even, white teeth. “My 
name is Medea.” 
The name felt familiar. Aria slid over the memories in 
her mind and came up blank. “I still do not—“ 
“Please. Let me finish. We have never met, but we fight 
for the same cause.” 
“How do you know my cause?” Aria stepped closer to 
Cam, ready to vault into his saddle if need be. 
“I heard your man talking.” 
A spy. Aria sent her thoughts out and touched the 
woman. Not enough to enter her mind, but a surface 
glance. 
This woman told the truth, at least about hearing 
Talon, but the only other emotion Aria felt was desperation. 
Medea wanted to be believed more than she wanted air to 
breathe or water to drink. 
Medea’s desire was so great, so powerful, that Aria 
wanted to believe her, but still she hesitated. “Why broach 
my help? Why not Talon’s? After all, it was his words that 
spoke to you, not mine.” 
Medea’s smile broadened. “For the same reason you 
wait outside with his rohha. Men see us as fragile. Useless. 
They fear for our lives. If I offered my help, he would ignore 
me. However, you are a woman. A sister. You understand 
that we are strong. I thought we could work together.” 
Aria could not argue with Medea’s reasoning, but 
neither could she accept her assistance. ”I appreciate the 
offer, but I do not want your help.” 
“I have no one else to turn to. I will do anything.” 
“Even die?” The threat of death would scare her away, 
if nothing else. 
“I do not care. Death is a small sacrifice.” 
Easy words, and ones Aria did not want to put to the 
test. “You should care. You are a beautiful young woman, 
and I am sure any man would be happy to take you from 
here if you but asked.” 
“My beauty? It is why I ask your favor.” Medea held 
her chin high. Tears pooled in her bright blue eyes. 
Tears that Aria ignored under peril of betrayal. “Cry 

or not, it will change nothing.” 
“You do not understand.” Oblivious to Aria’s rebuff, 
Medea wiped away the tears that slid down her face. “You 
would if you lived here, growing up in the Reaper’s shadow. 
It is because of my beauty that I offer my help. It is because 
of my beauty that I am cursed.” 
“I do not understand,” Aria said, intrigued despite her 
own objections. 
“You will.” Medea reached out, a slim hand sculpting 
the air. “You are also a beautiful woman, and when they 
catch you they will do to you what they did to me.” 
“What was that?” 
Not breaking her eye contact with Aria, Medea 
unwound the decorated cloth that wrapped her wrist and 
held up her arm for Aria to see. 
Scars. Scars as wide as a thick branch wrapped her 
wrist like a tragic bracelet. Without thinking, Aria stepped 
into the shadows where Medea waited and took the 
damaged hand in hers. “Why?” 
Medea chin tilted up another notch. “I was not willing 
to lie in their beds so they forced my cooperation.” 
By the Goddess, they were animals! Impulsively, Aria 
pulled Medea to her and hugged her in silent sympathy. 
“It is all right. I escaped.” Medea pushed away and 
rewrapped the scars with her cloth bracelet. “That is what 
I wanted to tell you.” 
“That you escaped?” 
“No, not exactly. More like how I escaped.” 
Aria’s ears perked up. What did this girl know that 
poor Gaur and his friend never knew? Shaking inside at 
the horror Medea must have endured, Aria focused on the 
issue at hand. “Tell me.” 
Medea looked around, and Aria followed her gaze. The 
street grew busier as evening approached, and people 
shopped for supplies for the evening meal. 
In quiet agreement, Aria followed Medea behind the 
building. A murmur of conversation as they passed under 
the tavern’s window caught Aria’s ear, but no raucous 
laughter or shouts broke the silence. When compared with 
Barias’s tavern, it was out of character. The hairs rose on 
the back of Aria’s neck. 
Medea stopped when they reached the far corner. 

“First, tell me what you plan to do.” 
Aria hesitated. Medea asked for much, but if she could 
provide the information she suggested, her assistance 
would be invaluable. She touched the girl’s mind again 
and still found nothing but the desperation. The 
temptation to delve further, to find the inner truth, 
overwhelmed her, but she stopped herself. Medea had not 
given permission for such a thing, and if she took 
advantage of her Trancer powers, she would truly be the 
witch her father claimed her to be. 
And she did not want to ask for permission. If Medea 
did not know she was a Trancer, Aria did not want to tell 
her. Knowledge was a powerful thing, and she could not 
chance losing any advantage she might have. 
She would have to trust the girl—for now. After seeing 
what the Reapers had done to her, it was not hard to do. 
“I plan on sneaking in, finding my son and friend, and 
getting them out.” 
“That is it?” Medea expression was incredulous. “I 
thought you wanted to hurt the Reapers.” 
Aria shook her head. “No, that is Talon’s plan. He 
thinks our son dead and plans revenge.” 
“You think your son lives?” 
“I know he does.” 
Medea hesitated and apparently reached her 
conclusion as to Aria’s story. “I must admit, I had hoped 
for revenge, but I cannot force you to that which is against 
your nature. What I can do is show you how to sneak in.” 
“How?” 
“There is a secret tunnel leading to the cells. I found it 
when I was imprisoned, and I used it to escape.” 
“Why have you not used it to find the revenge you 
seek?” 
“One day, I might. For now, it will be enough to have 
them hurt. To make them know they are vulnerable and 
to not know why.” 
Medea’s need for justice coursed over Aria, and she 
hoped what Medea said was true, that hurting them would 
be enough. The true question was, would it be enough for 
Talon? Would he forget his vow of vengeance when he 
held his son in his arms? 
He would have to. Aria leaned towards her companion. 

“Tell me about the tunnel.” 
“I will do better. Meet me at the stables tonight, after 
your man has gone to sleep, and I will show you where it 
is.” 
Perfect. “Tonight it is.” 
Cam’s shrill cry sounded. 
Both women’s heads jerked up at the sound. The rohha 
was in trouble, and Aria had left him alone. 
“Tonight,” Medea whispered furiously and ran down 
the path that followed the back of the tavern. 
Whirling on her heel, Aria followed the sound of Cam’s 
cry and ran around the corner, ready to do battle for the 
beast. 
There was no need. She groaned aloud. 
Cam was fine. His cry was not one of battle or terror. 
It was a cry of greeting. 
Next to him, another rohha shuffled restlessly, his pale 
coat and mane a sharp contrast to Cam’s dark coloring. 
“Hello, Aria.” Lore smiled down at her. 
*** 
“How did you find us?” Talon stood in the doorway, 
arms crossed in front of him as he surveyed the pair. How 
could Lore have been so foolish? The Council would not 
take his desertion lightly, and neither would he. 
“You left a trail that a blind, deaf, and half dead katah` 
could follow.” Lore dismounted and walked up the wooden 
steps. 
Talon glared at his friend. “I told you this was a 
personal matter. I do not want you involved.” 
“I know.” Lore grinned and thrust his hand out. “And 
you should be angry, but you are not.” 
As much as Talon hated to admit it, Lore was right. 
He should be angry. To be disavowed was a nightmare. To 
have Lore lose status and title was worse. But, instead of 
anger, a sense of gratitude flowed over him. He needed a 
friend at this crossroad. Someone he trusted to guard his 
back. Letting a smile curve his lips, Talon grasped Lore’s 
forearm in his hand. “It seems you know me better than I 
know myself.” 
“Do not judge me too good a reader of character.” Lore 
let go of Talon and glanced over his shoulder towards Aria. 
“I thought she was simply a pretty face. Did she tell you 

that she drugged me?” 
Aria’s blush was visible even in the dimming light. 
Talon chuckled. “Yes. You underestimated her.” 
I will never do so again.” Lore bowed low to Aria. 
“Mistress, you have my admiration.” 
The smile she blessed Lore with squeezed Talon’s heart 
for but a moment before he pushed it back. Jealousy of 
Lore was unbecoming. 
Lore turned back to Talon, his charm, melting like 
shadows in the sun, was replaced with the serious 
countenance of a trained Warrior. “I have brought news 
of the Council.” 
“What do they want?” 
“Nothing, but I thought you should know their decision 
to excommunicate you caused restlessness among the 
clan.” 
“How so?” 
Hurrying up the steps, Aria completed the circle of 
three. “Talon, you are a great Warrior. To lose you was a 
blow they could ill afford.” 
Lore nodded in agreement. “She is correct. You are 
much admired for both your skills at strategy and your 
ability to command.” 
“The Council’s decision was justified.” 
Lore shrugged again. “Perhaps, but after seeing the 
total destruction of a Tower, many of the younger Warriors 
agreed with your actions.” 
Talon hid his surprise. While he had joined the clan 
after his bonding years, most Warriors came to the Clan 
as children. They were saturated in the Clan’s beliefs, and 
for them to go against the teachings was unheard of. 
To ally themselves with him was unthinkable. “I am 
sure their displeasure did not please the Council.” 
“No, but it displeased them more when we left to follow 
you.” 
Talon cocked is head. “We?” 
“Yes, we.” Lore’s hushed voice traveled no farther than 
their ears. “Warriors wait in the woods, ready to follow 
you and destroy the Reapers.” 
“How many?” 
“Your contingent and more,” Lore advised. 
Involuntarily, Talon took a step back. All his men were 

here? It was an honor, and the last thing he expected. It 
was also the best news he could hear. No matter what he 
had told Orrin about stealth, some Reapers would escape 
their blades and make their way to the village to exact 
their revenge on Madrid’s more helpless residents. 
He wanted Mako dead and the villagers freed from the 
tyranny of the Reapers, but he did not want the villagers 
destroyed in the battle to come. Now that he had Warriors 
to assist him, he would have enough men to help raid the 
Reapers as well as guard the village. 
It could work. 
Aria coughed, drawing his attention. He did not want 
her to hear anymore. He had not missed the circles under 
her eyes that grew darker every day, and the weariness in 
her step. At night, when she slept, she tossed, sometimes 
calling out for Tarik and sometimes for him. 
Now with Lore’s help, and his men’s steel, Aria’s 
nightmares would soon be over. 

Eighteen 
The door to the tavern swung shut behind him as Talon 
walked across the dirt road. It had been a long evening, 
but worth the effort. With Lore and Orrin’s help, they had 
managed to formulate a plan to assault and win the 
Reapers’ Keep. 
Now, he wanted a night’s sleep in a soft bed. A small 
comfort, but those were the most important. 
Making his way in the dark, he went to the house 
where Aria waited. Orrin had vouched for the old couple, 
saying they were sympathetic to the cause. Still, he insisted 
Aria take a room with a window that latched. 
Quietly, he knocked on the rough wooden door and 
waited. No one answered. He knocked again. A voice spoke, 
muffled by the heavy structure. “What do you want?” 
“Orrin sent me. I am meeting a friend.” 
The door squeaked open a few inches. Talon held his 
hands out, palm up, to show his good intentions. “Her 
name is Aria.” 
A short woman, her dressing gown pulled tightly about 
her, poked her head through the gap. “She said you would 
come. This way.” The door opened further, and she ushered 
him in. He followed her down the short, dim hallway. They 
stopped at the end in front of a large wooden door. “I gave 
your woman dinner. The food’s probably gone cold, but it 
should be good.” 
“My thanks.” 
“You should have come earlier, you could have had a 
bath.” 
Talon smiled at the motherly reprimand. “I apologize 
if I kept you up.” 
She left, taking what little light there was with her. 
Her voice carried in the dark. “Ha. Apologize to your 
woman. She waited as long as she could.” 
Talon thumbed the latch. Heavy, but well oiled, the 
door swung open without a sound. With a Warrior’s 
training, he hesitated, listening and looking, before he 
stepped through the portal. The fireplace lit the room, 
creating shadows, pockets of darkness where anything, 
or anyone, could hide, but nothing and no one did. Only 

the familiar sound of Aria as she breathed deep in her 
dreams, and the crackle of the dying fire, broke the night’s 
silence. 
The room was safe. They were alone. He shut the door 
behind him. 
A small murmur caught his attention. Aria. She called 
for Tarik as she dreamed. 
Taking off his boots, Talon set them by the fireplace 
and walked over to her. Murmurs changed to pitiful cries, 
breaking his Warrior’s heart. Since the Temple, he had 
denied them both the simple warmth of touch when all he 
wanted to do was draw her close and ease her torment. 
It was not to be. 
He unbuckled his scabbard and laid it on the small 
table next to the bed. Aria called for Tarik again, pushing 
restlessly at the covers. 
He rested his head in his hands. It was torture wanting 
her and denying her. Just for a night, he wanted to keep 
her demons at bay. To let her know she was safe, would 
always be safe, as long as he breathed. 
Her hands grasped at the air, searching for her lost 
son. 
Was it so wrong to want to hold her on the last eve 
they might have together? He pulled his shirt over his 
head and tossed it to the end of the bed. Unlacing his 
leggings, he threw them to lie with his shirt. Clad in only 
his breechclout, Talon pulled the heavy covers back and 
slid into bed beside Aria, pulling her to his side. The tossing 
stopped, and she snuggled into his warmth. 
He relaxed, her innocence and pain touching the place 
in his soul he denied so passionately. He nuzzled her hair. 
It was still damp from her bath and fragrant with the scent 
of a flower he did not recognize. After the battle, he wanted 
her to have this every night. Safety. A warm bed. All the 
comforts she deserved. And he would give them to her. 
If he lived. 
A future with Aria? It was a heady thought, and one 
he indulged for but a heartbeat. 
He let the vision go. The thought of life, of living with 
Aria, was one he could ill afford. To desire life was to fear 
death. If he worried about death, he would put those who 
had pledged their lives to him at risk. Still, it did not keep 

him from hoping to walk away from the fight and into 
Aria’s arms. 
If he lived, he would devote his life to making her 
happy. To loving her and making sure she knew it in both 
deed and word. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling 
her, memorizing her, and burning her into his brain as a 
token he could carry into battle with him. 
Would you devote your life to me? Aria tilted her head 
up, her eyes still closed. Was Talon real or a dream? Either 
way, she prayed his thoughts were true. He kissed her 
hair. His lips were firm and warm and sent a jolt of pleasure 
from her scalp to her heels. 
He was real. Thank the Goddess. This moment was 
real. He was in her bed, holding her, his bare flesh pressed 
against her. His hands kneaded her back as he rubbed 
his cheek against her skin. 
The desire she had worked to deny blazed into life, 
and she kissed his neck. 
His arms stiffened. 
“Aria?” 
“Yes.” She opened her eyes. 
“I thought you were asleep.” His arms slid away from 
her as he moved to the other side of the bed. 
“I know.” She should have remained silent, pretended 
to be asleep, until he was unable to deny his heart and 
body. 
Now he was the cold and distant Talon she had traveled 
with from Laini. 
He pulled the covers over them and lay back, looking 
into the flickering light. “I apologize. I did not mean to 
take advantage of you.” 
Lying on her side, Aria propped her head up on one 
hand. “There is no need to apologize for offering comfort 
to another.” 
“Perhaps not, but it was not comfort I thought of.” 
Aria grinned at the admission, knowing how difficult 
it was for him to admit his carnal vulnerabilities. “I know.” 
“It was wrong of me to force myself upon you.” His 
body tightened, muscles constricting as he fought for 
control, but still, she saw the truth of his desire. 
Her Giver was a both a brilliant strategist and a 
magnificent Warrior, but he was inexperienced when it 

came to expressing his heart. She scooted across the 
expanse of bed until she lay next to him. He did not move 
away, but neither did he move to acknowledge her. “There 
would have been no force involved.” She raked a nail down 
his chest. 
He stiffened and pulled away. 
A trickle of anger cleaved her passion in two. He was 
as stubborn and single-minded as the rohha he called 
friend. She moved to return to her side of the bed, but his 
sigh, deep and lonely, stopped her. Perhaps he was 
hardheaded, but that did not mean she had to behave in 
the same manner. She would not let tonight end like this. 
Not with careless words and love unspoken. 
Not when she might die. 
Leaning forward, she kissed his shoulder. 
“What are you doing?” His expressionless tone clashed 
with the passion that radiated from his soul, touching 
her Trancer senses. 
She shivered despite the room’s heat. “I am kissing 
you.” 
“Why?” 
She smiled. “Because you are letting me.” 
“I am not worthy.” 
She kissed his shoulder again, tasting the salt of his 
skin as she slid the kiss towards his mouth. She stopped 
but a breath away. “I say you are.” 
His breath, sweet with wine, caressed her cheek as he 
gazed at her. She felt his conflict within as his need to 
make love to her warred with his need to remain apart 
and aloof. 
Which would win? 
Breaths mingling, she spoke the words of her heart. 
“Make love to me.” Her request was a whisper in the dim 
light of the fire. 
It was all he needed. Aria moaned as Talon rolled her 
onto her back, covering her with his large frame. His desire 
blinded her. It was primitive. Urgent. He wanted her like 
a katah‘ wanted its mate. She writhed against him in 
response, and their lips met in a hard kiss, each seeking 
to devour the other. 
Hands frantically moved over flesh, kneading, stroking, 
as each pulled the other closer. Reaching between them, 

she pulled his breechclout away, freeing him to her waiting 
hands. He throbbed and strained as she grasped him, 
guiding him towards her waiting depths. 
He tried to pull away. “Let me ready you.” His voice 
broke as he fought for control of himself. 
She would have none of that. No control. No thought. 
Only action. Only need. 
Wrapping her slim legs around his hips, she guided 
him again until he was at her entrance. She thrust 
upwards, burying him in her. 
He groaned in surrender. 
Aria shut her eyes. Skin slid against skin, lips kissed, 
hands grasped. It was a maelstrom of sensation. A war of 
pleasure as each tried to satisfy the other. 
Aria wanted to win. Pressing against Talon’s shoulder 
and using her legs as leverage, she pushed him onto his 
back and went with him. 
Talon throbbed hard inside her as she sat astride him. 
She smiled, looking down at him through half-lidded eyes. 
She rolled her hips, and Talon’s breath hissed through 
his teeth. “Now you are mine.” 
His large hands slid along her calves, over her knees 
and thighs, stopping to squeeze her. “As you are mine.” 
His reply was everything she wanted. No denial, just 
acceptance of what was. 
Leaning forward, her hair cascading over her shoulder, 
she rested her hands on his chest and raised her hips. 
When she lowered them back, Talon used his hands to 
guide her, pressing her against him. 
It was exquisite. 
“Again,” Talon begged. She raised her eyes to see him 
lost in the moment, creating a memory that would sustain 
them both through the battle ahead. 
She closed her eyes and focused on the sensations 
that coursed through her—Talon’s eagerness, stroking her 
like his hands stroked her thighs, his yearning to take 
and give pleasure, and his solid muscular body, giving 
her what his heart desired and his mind denied. 
She rose again and again. His hips thrust upwards to 
meet her, grinding against her. 
The fire in her body grew higher, hotter. In the distance, 
she heard Talon cry her name as his release drew close. 

Her love surrounded them like a cocoon, and his desire 
blended with hers, taking them both to a new height. A 
new place. 
In a great shout, they merged, as release took them 
both away in a maelstrom of currents and color. 
*** 
Sated and content, Talon slept a deep sleep for the 
first time in many moons. Aria smiled. It was what she 
wanted, what she needed if she were to meet Medea at the 
stables. Still, she wished she could see his eyes before 
she left. 
What if she never saw them again? 
She gasped at the thought, then quickly banished it 
before it grew. Now was not the time to think of defeat but 
of the goal. Sneak into the Keep, find Tarik and Iliana, 
and leave before the Reapers had a chance to know what 
happened. 
She hoped it would be as simple as it sounded. 
First, she had to leave without waking Talon, and with 
the way his arms were wrapped around her, that was going 
to be a difficult task. She slid downwards. He moaned. 
She stopped. Her heart pounded. Breathe, she reminded 
herself. You must breathe and relax. 
Another heartbeat later, she moved, but at a slower 
pace, until she was free of his hold. 
Talon turned over, pulling the covers with him. 
Did he wake? 
No. She breathed a soft sigh of relief. Slowly, she slid 
her feet over the edge of the bed, being careful not to 
disturb the mattress, and followed with her legs, hips, 
and torso until she was kneeling naked on the floor. She 
glanced over her shoulder. His back was to her, and his 
breathing was deep and even. 
She stood up and gathered her clothes. Naked and 
padding on bare feet, she opened the door and paused, 
turning to take one last look at her lover. “I love you, Talon. 
No matter what happens, know this to be true.” 
The silence of sleep was his reply. 
Stepping into the hall, Aria shut the door behind her, 
dressed in the dark, and moments later, was out of the 
house and on the way to the stables. 
Would Medea still be waiting? If not, she would simply 

have to find her own route into the Keep. Aria walked 
faster. 
Rounding the corner, the stables loomed in front of 
her. The light of the moons illuminated the wooden shack, 
giving it an almost otherworldly air. The sound of a 
stomping rohha greeted her as she entered. It was Cam. 
Leaving the door ajar for light, she walked over and patted 
his nose. “You must be quiet,” she told the beast. “I do 
this for Talon.” 
Cam nuzzled her palm. 
“I am glad to see we finally agree on something,” Aria 
murmured. 
“I thought, perhaps, you had changed your mind.” 
Aria jumped and spun about. “Medea?” 
A figure emerged from the shadows. “Of course.” She 
came close and laid a smooth hand on Aria’s arm. “Are 
you ready?” 
Aria placed her hand over Medea’s. “Yes, and thank 
you for waiting.” 
Medea accepted the thanks with a nod. “You left with 
no trouble? Your man does not suspect?” 
“No,” Aria replied. “He suspects nothing and is 
oblivious to all except his dreams.” 
“Good. We must go. Quickly, before the morning 
comes.” 
Medea’s overwhelming urgency to leave tugged at Aria’s 
mind. And there was more. Disliking her own suspicions, 
Aria scanned Medea’s thoughts one last time. 
Excitement. Vindication. Uneasiness 
All the emotions of a woman bent on revenge. If only 
she felt the same, then perhaps her stomach would stop 
rolling. 
She pulled away, fighting the temptation to delve 
deeper. 
It was time to leave, time to prove her convictions. 
Letting go of Medea, Aria hugged Cam around the neck. 
“Watch over Talon,” she whispered in his ear. “Keep him 
safe until I return.” 
The rohha tossed his head. Aria left, following Medea 
out the door and onto the deserted street. Walking away 
from the village, the trees engulfed them in moments. 
“Is it far?” Aria asked her guide who walked gracefully 

ahead. Even with moonlight, it was dim within the forest 
as they trudged up the mountain trail. Aria stumbled over 
a root. 
“No. Not as far as some of the villagers would wish, 
but far enough to hide from the children who used to play 
in these woods.” 
“They do not anymore?” 
“Not since the Reapers came. It is feared they will be 
taken as slaves or hostages if they wander too far.” 
“Better to curb their play than—” 
“Silent, my friend.” Medea interrupted. “The walk is 
still a distance, and you are not used to our thinner air. 
Conserve your strength.” 
Medea was right. Aria focused on breathing and 
keeping up with her guide. When the sun shed its first 
light through the trees, Medea stopped. “We are here.” 
Aria shaded her eyes from the sun’s beams that slanted 
towards them. Here was a cliff. Impossibly high, it ran 
past her length of vision. An appropriate place for a secret 
entrance, and a well-kept secret it was. The cliff’s face 
was smooth with no large outcroppings that could hide a 
tunnel. 
“You wonder where it is, do you not.” Medea ran her 
palms over the rocky surface before them. 
Aria squinted, still searching. Where could it be? How 
did they manage to hide a door in solid stone? “I must say 
I am surprised at the Reaper ingenuity. I did not know 
they were such clever builders to hide the entrance in a 
sheer wall.” 
Medea laughed, the sound surprisingly sinister in such 
a ethereal creature. “They are not clever, merely strong. I 
doubt they built the tunnel.” 
Aria paused in surprise. “Then who?” 
Medea shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps the 
Builders.” 
“The Builders?” 
“A local legend. It is said they flew, and that their ships 
traveled both over the water and under it.” 
“What happened to them?” Aria asked, curious despite 
the gravity of their situation. 
“No one knows.” Medea waved the musings away. 
“Anyway, the tunnel is right...” she pressed against a large 

rock. It slid away. “Here.” She finished with a flourish. 
Aria’s heart skipped a beat. 
Medea stepped into the opening and pulled a small 
handmade torch from a pocket on her robe. “I will lead.” 
Aria ducked to enter the tunnel behind her. Once 
inside, the size surprised her. She stood erect with no 
problem. She held her arms out towards the smooth walls, 
but they were out of her reach as was the earthen ceiling 
above her head. 
In front of her, Medea pressed a lever, and the rock 
closed behind them with a dull thud. Darkness engulfed 
them. The sound of a tinderbox opening broke the silence. 
A single scratch, a beat of time, and the torch burned, 
giving just enough light for them to walk without 
stumbling. Medea reached back and took Aria’s hand. “Do 
not be afraid. Soon, we will both get what we want.” 
Aria squeezed her hand, grateful for the touch. “As 
long as I have a friend for company, I will be fine.” 
Medea squeezed back, and they set off down the 
tunnel. 
*** 
Talon woke to the sound of someone knocking on his 
door. “Wake up, Aria,” he muttered, hoping to convince 
her to answer it. 
The only answer was more knocking. 
He opened his eyes. Except for him, the bed was empty. 
He bolted upright. Where was Aria? A flash of dread, 
tangible and real, settled over him like the blanket that 
covered his body. 
The knocking continued. 
He jumped from the bed and took his sword in hand. 
Naked, he faced the door and crouched into a fighting 
stance. “Enter.” 
The latch moved, and Lore stepped through, his long 
blond hair pulled back with a Warrior’s leather cord. His 
eyes surveyed Talon’s naked form. “I see you spent a most 
interesting, or should I say intimate, evening.” 
Talon glared at the comment and tossed his sword 
onto the empty bed. Now was not the time for jest. 
“Where is the beautiful Mistress Aria?” Lore sat in one 
of the high-backed wooden chairs with a grand gesture. 
Talon pulled his leggings on. “I do not know.” 

The laughter in Lore’s eyes vanished, and he leaned 
forward. “What do you mean?” 
Talon strapped his scabbard and blade to his hip. “Just 
that. I woke when you knocked, and she was gone.” 
Lore leaned back, his hand tapping the table as he 
thought. “Perhaps she is simply doing whatever it is that 
women do in the morning.” 
“I do not think so.” Her nature and singular ability to 
find trouble dictated a more complex reason. That, and 
the feeling of dread that refused to depart. 
“How could she leave without you knowing it?” 
Talon flushed, grabbed his shirt off the floor, and 
tossed it on. “I do not know.” Nevertheless, he knew exactly 
what had happened. For a night, he had let his heart rule, 
and now Aria was gone. 
“Did she drug you? She is capable you know,” Lore 
commented. 
She had drugged him, but not with wine or medicine. 
She had drugged him with her love and her body. She 
had taken away his edge with the promise of unspoken 
possibilities. 
Then, she used it to leave. But to where? 
Taking a moment to shove his boots on, he pushed 
past his friend. He would find her if he had to search 
every house and every building. He could not take on the 
Reapers not knowing if she were safe. 
Was that what she was doing? Did she hide, hoping 
to prevent the battle? He would not put it past her. If that 
were her plan, he would have strong words with her once 
he found her. 
Slamming the door open, Talon strode out of the house 
with Lore at his side. 
“Sir!” The shout came from behind. He stopped. A 
coarse brown robe swaddled about her, the owner of the 
house, caught up to him. 
“What do you want?” he growled, waving her away. 
“Are you looking for the young girl? The redhead?” 
Talon stopped and grabbed her arm in one smooth 
motion. “What do you know? Is she all right? Where has 
she gone?” 
The pudgy woman pulled her arm away, dusting his 
touch off. “I do not know where she went, but I saw her go 

towards the stables before the sun rose.” 
“Why did you not stop her?” 
She frowned. “In this town, you don’t pry.” 
“Why tell me now?” 
She motioned Talon closer and raised herself up on 
pudgy toes. Her whisper carried no farther than his ears. 
“As courtesy to the cause. I see your anger and will not 
have you barging around town asking questions and 
getting us all killed with your ignorance.” 
She was right. Talon wrestled his anger under control. 
Stealth over brawn would gain more in a situation like 
this. He would start at the stables, and if he found nothing, 
he would go from there, but he would go with stealth and 
secrecy in mind. 
“My thanks, madam.” He turned on his heel. 
“Why the stables?” Lore asked as they strode through 
the already crowded streets. “Do you think she took a 
rohha?” 
“Not likely,” Talon answered, thinking of Aria’s limited 
experience with the beasts. She knew only Cam, and he 
was battle trained. The others would most likely be like 
the first rohha she rode, ill tempered and trained for menial 
tasks. 
The wide door was already open, and the stable master 
was sweeping the stalls. A rohha’s head poked itself out 
and stared at him. Cam. He was still here. Aria had not 
taken him. So where was she? Why had she come here? 
“Warrior?” 
The stable master tossed a folded piece of parchment 
to them. “I found this stuck to your rohha’s stall this 
morning.” 
Talon caught it in the air. Perhaps Aria had left him 
an explanation, and his fears were not as tangible as they 
felt. 
He unfolded the small square. 
“Is it from Mistress Aria?” Lore’s expression remained 
grim. 
Talon read the words. His heart sank. “No, but it does 
say where she is.” He folded the scrap carefully back up 
and put it in the leather pouch at his waist. “She has 
been betrayed.” 
*** 

The tunnel is getting smaller. Aria shoved the thought 
from her mind. It wormed its way back. She took a deep 
breath. Tighter and tighter, the walls grew closer with each 
step. She spread her arms like a bykla in flight. She 
touched nothing but air. The walls were the same distance 
as when she and Medea entered this empty, dark, realm. 
It was her perception that had changed. She was losing 
focus. Losing control. 
Remember the goal, she reminded herself. The dark is 
but a moment in time. An uncomfortable stretch that will 
be banished by the light of Talon’s smile when he holds 
his son in his arms. She let thoughts of Tarik, Talon, and 
their reunion soothe her. A bit of soil trickled from above, 
dusting her face. She coughed. 
“Are you all right?” Medea’s voice echoed past Aria 
and returned. 
The small flame from her torch cast eerie shadows 
over her delicate features, and for a moment, Aria saw a 
demon. A spirit. Not Medea. The illusion disappeared. 
Relieved, Aria coughed again and waved Medea forward. 
“Yes. Just a bit of dirt.” 
The girl laughed, the sound carrying in the silence. “I 
suppose there is enough of that around here.” 
Silently, Aria thanked the Goddess for her new friend. 
Such a brave woman. So delicate, yet so tough to have 
survived the Reaper’s cruelty. When this was over, she 
would ask Medea to go with her and Talon. Offer her a 
new life away from those who judged her. 
The ground started to rise. 
“Almost there,” Medea called over her shoulder. 
Aria took a deep breath. Tarik. She lightly touched 
the currents, hoping to feel him. The same wall blocked 
her. A tangible shield that allowed no access to the Keep. 
Had the Builders constructed a spiritual wall to keep out 
even Trancers? It would be an impressive feat. No matter. 
Soon she would hold her son. Kiss his tiny hands. Touch 
his soft skin. Tears filled her eyes, but she wiped them 
away. There would be time for tears when they were all 
safe. 
The tunnel stopped, ending in a wooden wall. Dusty 
and dry, it was clearly once in better condition. “This is 
it,” Medea pronounced, resting her free hand on a large 

lever. “Wait here. I will check to make sure our passage is 
clear.” 
Aria stopped Medea with a hand on her shoulder. Her 
guide had been through enough. “I will not have you risk 
yourself for me.” 
Medea shook her off. “I understand your desire, but 
please understand that you could kill us both with lack of 
knowledge. The entrance opens into a sheltered cove, so 
there is little danger there. The peril comes in what lays 
beyond the shadows. I know the Reapers. I know their 
ways. I will know what to look for. Do not let your pride 
kill us both.” 
Aria bit her lower lip. She hated to admit it, but Medea 
was right. To insist otherwise was nothing other than 
conceit. 
“You agree?” her guide prompted. 
“I suppose,” Aria said, although letting Medea take 
such a chance left a troubled feeling in the pit of her 
stomach. “But come back if there is any sign of danger.” 
“I promise.” Medea pulled the lever. The panel slid 
aside, gliding as if on a sheen of oil. 
“Be careful,” Aria whispered. 
Her guide nodded and stepped away. 
Aria waited. Time crawled. She shifted nervously. A 
footstep approached. She held her breath. It went past. 
Nothing. Her knees weakened in relief, and she leaned 
against a wall. Where was Medea? Had they captured her? 
Did they torture her even now? Panic rose. Aria stepped 
towards the panel and stopped. Patience. She forced her 
runaway imagination under control. It just feels like 
forever. 
A woman’s scream rent the air. 
All hesitation gone, Aria ran through the door. The 
room opened before her. It was occupied by a small group 
of unwashed men. Reapers. Medea stood in the middle of 
them, unchained and unhampered, her hands on her hips, 
and screaming. 
Aria stopped mid-step. 
Medea’s shouts died. She doubled over, and a different 
sound emerged. Laughter. 
What was going on? Ready to bolt, Aria stepped 
backwards. 

Still laughing, Medea nodded to the men. From the 
shadows, two stepped forward and grabbed Aria’s arms, 
their thick fingers digging into her flesh. 
The Reapers joined in Medea’s mirth. 
The scene became clear. A cry of betrayal sounded 
through the room. Aria realized the hoarse shout was her 
own. 
By the Goddess, how could she have been so wrong? 
She had trusted Medea. Cared for her. Still in shock, Aria 
did not struggle as the Reapers dragged her forward and 
threw her to the ground at Medea’s feet. 
“Help me, my Goddess.” Aria’s whispered prayer was 
lost in the jeers and hoots of the Reapers. An early lesson 
flashed through her mind. The Goddess only showed the 
path, it was up to the person to walk it. What path was 
the Goddess showing her? Death? A test of faith? 
The road before her remained unseen. Instead, she 
saw Talon. He searched for her. He worried for her. He 
believed in her. 
She would not let him down. Fury at the betrayal, 
and fury at her own naiveté, engulfed her. If Medea planned 
to kill her, she would not die like an animal. She would be 
strong like her Warrior. 
She would die on her feet. 
Legs wobbling, she stood to face her betrayer. 
Gone was the beauty. Silent was the friendship. Medea 
reached out with a delicate finger. “Welcome to my home.” 
She raked a nail along Aria’s jaw, drawing blood. “Trancer.” 

Nineteen 
“If you ride up to the Keep in daylight they will kill 
you before you can make it past the gate.” 
Talon ignored the remark as he readied Cam for battle. 
Lore and Orrin stood on each side of him, each man urging 
him to reason. They did not understand. Medea had taken 
Aria. 
Medea. As sweet as a crystalline morning and deadly 
as a viper’s bite, her laughter echoed through his 
memories. She had wanted him once and begged him to 
kill her lover, Mako. He had refused and escorted her from 
his room. She had screamed at him, ranting that he would 
pay. 
Laughing, he had thrown her shoes to her. 
Now, years later, she had made good her promise. He 
squeezed his hands into tight fists, his leather gloves 
creaking in protest. 
“Talon, you cannot do this. It is suicide.” 
“Perhaps, but I see no other choice. They knew about 
Aria. They knew where to find Cam. Imagine how much 
more they know, or worse, imagine what they will do to 
Aria to find out.” 
“I cannot let you go.” Lore rested his hand on the hilt 
of his sword. 
“You would use that,” Talon followed the movement, 
“to stop me?” 
Lore’s hand fell away from the weapon. “Of course not, 
I would simply remind you of what is at stake here.” 
“Aria’s life.” 
“And the village. Would you storm the Keep and put 
others at risk?” Lore gestured towards Orrin. “He has a 
plan if you will but hear him out.” 
Talon yanked Cam’s reins from his pack. “The time 
for planning is over. The Reapers know we come and will 
be waiting for an attack to be mounted.” 
“Then we wait,” Orrin countered. 
“For what? Aria to die—or worse?” He remembered 
what Reapers did to women, misusing them in the worst 
way a man could misuse a woman. His mind went back 
to Medea. She had liked the pain and domination. She 

claimed it gave her power, and it did. As much as he was 
capable, Mako loved her. It was he who scarred her, 
branding her wrists to show her who her master was. 
Medea wore the scars with pride. 
Talon shuddered. What would Mako do to his Aria? 
He would not give the Reaper lord enough time to harm 
her. He made to vault onto Cam’s back. 
Orrin laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. 
“Take your hand off me before I do it myself.” Talon 
forced the words through gritted teeth. Orrin was a good 
man, and he did not want to hurt him, but he would. 
Orrin removed his hand. “Please, listen to what I have 
to say. We can wait a while longer. Aria will neither die 
nor be hurt. Not today.” 
“How would you know that?” 
Nervously, Orrin glanced around and drew closer to 
Talon, motioning Lore to listen. “I have a man in the Keep. 
He has managed to get word to me. She is captured, but 
safe for now.” 
“How can your man guarantee her safety? Mako is as 
unpredictable as a water starved volen.” 
“He plans a feast for tonight to display his newest 
prize.” 
Talon tightened. “Aria is no trophy to be displayed.” 
“A Trancer is a great prize to Mako.” 
“They know she is a Trancer?” The news was not the 
shock it should have been. The Reapers seemed to know 
everything else, why not this last bit of information? 
“It is why they want her. They plan to use her skills.” 
The same fear, that she would enter Trancer 
consciousness and never emerge, consumed Talon. To lose 
her to the currents was unthinkable. To let her perish 
while enslaved was unforgivable. By the Goddess, he would 
not let that happen. Mako would die by his hands. “Feast 
or no, our plan will not work if Mako knows about it, and 
I promise you, he almost certainly does.” 
“I know he does. I made sure of it,” Orrin said. 
“You did what?” Talon’s hand instinctively went to the 
hilt of his sword, and he took a step forward. 
“I made sure he found out. I needed him to if I wanted 
our new idea to work.” 
“New idea?” 

Lore explained. “Orrin’s men were nervous about your 
Reaper’s sword, so he held back some information from 
you.” 
Talon curled his lip. “Yet he told you?” 
“Only just this morning.” 
Orrin continued. “There is a tunnel. A secret passage 
that leads into the lower part of the Keep. Tonight, my 
men attack the gates, distracting the Reapers and drawing 
them away from the tunnel—.” 
“While we take the Keep from behind?” Talon finished. 
Orrin nodded. “Exactly.” 
“Why have you not used this passage before?” It 
seemed suspicious to him to have such an advantage and 
to have not used it. 
“We did not have enough men to mount both a frontal 
assault as well as a rear one. With the Reaper’s numbers, 
one assault by itself would fail, as both the gates and 
tunnel are sure to be guarded. We need both assaults if 
we are to stand any chance of success.” 
The explanation was sound, and although the plan 
was a simple one, sometimes those were the best. Even 
with the arrival of the Warriors, they barely had enough 
for a two-part attack, but it was something Mako might 
not suspect. If he knew of Talon’s arrival, and Medea would 
make sure of it, then he would only remember the Talon 
from long ago. The Talon of Mako’s memory was 
headstrong and often let passion overcome judgment. The 
Talon of the Reapers would have stormed the Keep alone. 
Alone, much like he had planned to do before Orrin 
and Lore spoke to him. He eyed the reins still clenched in 
his fist. Was being near Mako changing him? Influencing 
him to behave like the man he used to be? Not the man he 
had become? 
He could not let passion rule him. He had to hold 
onto the Warrior within—the man who ruled with his mind, 
not his heart. It was the only way to save Aria. The only 
way to outwit Mako in his own element. Anything else 
would get them all killed. His friends were right about 
that. 
He took a deep breath, held it, and released his anger, 
driving it away in the same breath. The reins fell from his 
fingers. 

A question came to mind. “What makes you think that 
Mako is not herding us towards such a plan?” 
“My man assures me otherwise.” 
“How well do you know this man who claims to be 
helping us?” Talon asked. “How do we know that it was 
not he that informed on us?” 
Orrin’s lips curved down. “He is my brother. I would 
trust him with my life. Mako is quite pleased with himself 
and the capture of your woman. He plans the feast, but 
he has no idea of how many we are or how strong. He 
knows nothing of Lore and your men. He knows only of 
the resistance and that you lead it.” 
Interesting. Mako did not know of the Warriors arrival? 
His mind searched through the events of yesterday. 
Whoever had informed on them, probably Medea, must 
have overheard the initial conversation he had at the 
alehouse with Orrin because Lore arrived afterwards. A 
surge of guilt rushed through him. 
He had caused Aria’s capture. 
*** 
How long had she been in the cell? A day? A night? A 
season? 
It seemed like forever. 
Sitting on the dirt floor, Aria wrapped her arms around 
her legs. She glanced up. A high vertical slit on the outer 
wall, too slim to call a window, offered little light and even 
less hope. 
She rested her head against her knees. How could 
she have been so blind? She had asked herself the same 
question again and again. Medea had seemed so friendly. 
So truthful. 
For once, she wished she had ignored righteousness 
and delved the woman’s mind to find her true intentions. 
But she had not. Now, she waited for rescue, death, 
or opportunity. Death seemed the most likely. The thought 
of rescue both thrilled and appalled her. Did Talon search 
for her, or had he figured out where she was? If so, he 
would most definitely storm the Keep in hopes of rescuing 
her. 
And she had wanted so badly to rescue him. 
Now, all she could do was wait and hope. 
It would be tolerable if she could see her son and Iliana, 

but Medea denied her even that comfort. It was not a 
surprise. Once she revealed her true self, her guide had 
emerged as a vindictive, small-hearted, and evil woman. 
“Aria?” 
She raised her head, peering into the dimness. 
Someone kneeled on the dusty ground, calling to her. 
Iliana? No, the shorthaired vision was outside the bars 
and dressed in a clean gown of a rich red color. Aria rested 
her head back on her knees. What would Medea not do? 
“Aria, please. It is I, Iliana.” 
Aria covered her head with her hands. 
“Please, listen to me.” 
The girl sounded so much like her best friend that 
Aria almost looked up. She stopped herself. She would 
not give Medea the satisfaction. “Go away. You are not 
Iliana. Tell Medea that her plan failed.” 
“I am Iliana. I can prove it. I called out the name of 
your Given on the beach.” 
The information was too common. All knew of the 
ceremony, but the small truth had to come from 
somewhere. What had they done to her friend to get that 
bit of knowledge? Bile rose in Aria’s throat. 
The girl kept talking. “The day after the Given 
ceremony, you gave me a necklace of isi flowers. You said 
we were sisters of the heart.” 
The memory touched her. It was a piece of life so minor 
that only her friend would know or care about it. Aria 
raised her head. “Iliana?” 
“Yes.” The figure stretched her arm through the bars, 
imploring Aria to come to her. 
Aria wanted to believe her. Was it really her closest 
friend calling to her, or was her mind gone? Cautiously, 
Aria scooted over on hands and knees, just out of reach of 
the hand that beckoned her. 
“Please,” the figure implored. 
Before she thought any farther, Aria reached out. 
Fingers met and held. Familiar warmth flooded her. 
Iliana. It was true. 
The hand pulled her closer. Another joined it, 
embracing her through the bars. Tears wet Aria’s cheeks. 
Hers or her friends, it did not matter. 
“How touching.” 

Both turned. Medea stood at the entrance to the 
chamber, leaning against the wall. “It is always so uplifting 
to see two friends reunited.” 
The women parted. Iliana stood, brushing the dust off 
her dress. “What are you doing here?” 
“Watching you and Aria. Who knows, I may learn 
something.” 
Iliana laughed. 
Aria’s brows knit together at the sound. It was not the 
sound she remembered. This was a mocking laugh. Cruel. 
“The day a rohha learns to speak is the day you learn 
something beside how to be a thieving, sadistic, stupid 
whore.” Hands clenched at her sides, Iliana stepped 
towards Medea. “Leave us, whore.” 
Medea raised her hand and closed the gap until the 
two women were only a breath away from each other. 
Using the bars to pull herself up, Aria watched the 
conflict with shock. The woman in red spoke with Iliana’s 
voice and moved with her womanly grace, but the Iliana 
she remembered would never threaten another in such a 
manner. What would this new person do if Medea hit her? 
Probably hit back. 
“Lay a hand on me, and I will tell your master.” 
Even in the dim light, Medea’s scowl was visible. “I do 
not care.” 
“You should. You know the rules. He no longer beds 
you, so do not think you are above them.” Iliana tucked a 
short curl behind her ear. The silence grew, lengthening 
as Iliana and Aria waited to see what Medea would do. 
Finally, Medea shot Iliana a look of pure loathing and 
dropped her hand. Turning in a swirl of skirts, she stomped 
from the room. 
Iliana laughed again. The sound followed Medea. 
“What are the rules?” Aria asked, both curious and 
concerned as to what her friend, this woman she no longer 
knew, would say in return. 
The laughter stopped. Weariness passed over Iliana’s 
face. “The rules? No man, no woman may touch me in 
anger or to do harm. They do, and they die.” 
“Mako has kept this promise?” 
Iliana rested against the bars, forehead on her hands. 
“More than once.” 

Mako protected her. Why? Was she his newest lover? 
Was that why she roamed free? Aria shuddered. What 
had her friend done to survive? 
Had that survival included Tarik? 
She both craved and feared the answer. She let the 
words slip past her lips before apprehension stopped them. 
“Where is my son?” 
Iliana raised her head. “Safe in my room.” 
Tarik lives. She had known it in her heart. Felt it in 
her soul. Still, to have it confirmed and her inner doubts 
banished made her want to shout. To cry. To laugh. She 
leaned into the bars. “When can I see him?” 
“Tonight.” 
It was too long a wait. Her feet danced in impatience. 
“Not before? I know this is a joyless place, but please bring 
him to me. Just for a moment.” 
Iliana shook her head. “Mako has forbidden it.” 
Aria’s heart crashed, and the dancing stopped. “You 
do what he says?” 
Her friend turned away, bitterness covering her 
features like a mask. “Do you think I have a choice?” 
“I do not know.” Time with Mako and the Reapers had 
changed her friend, but Aria could not be sure of how 
much. Where did Iliana’s loyalties lie? 
Iliana gestured at the surroundings. “Do not let the 
fact that I am out here and you are behind the bars fool 
you. I am as much a prisoner as yourself, only my bars 
are the kind you cannot see.” She squeezed her eyes shut. 
“Why have you not asked my about my hair?” 
“What do you mean?” Iliana’s hair was shortened, but 
it seemed of little importance in light of the danger that 
surrounded them. 
“My hair.” Iliana’s voice rose a notch, and she grabbed 
a handful of the short strands between her fingers. “Can 
you not see that it is gone?” 
Aria took a step back. “Of course.” 
“I disobeyed once, and he cut it off.” 
“But if he protects you and has not truly harmed—” 
“Another slip and he warned it would be my throat. 
Or Tarik’s, and he would do it. He always does what he 
says. Even if it means killing a man for talking to me in 
the wrong tone of voice.” Iliana wrapped her arms around 

herself. 
The heat of shame burned Aria’s cheeks. Oh Goddess, 
what had she done? She had judged her best friend—the 
one who had saved her son by sacrificing not just the 
silky black strands that crowned her head, but also the 
light that lived within. The heat deepened. She did not 
deserve such a friendship. “I am sorry.” Small words, but 
they were the only ones she managed to push past the 
lump in her throat. 
“So am I.” For a moment, Aria saw the untainted Iliana 
emerge. The woman she knew before the Tower was 
destroyed, along with their lives. 
Then the friend of her memory disappeared, lost 
behind the hard countenance of the stranger who stood 
before her. 
“No matter. Now, we have to save you and Tarik.” 
No noise broke the silence that separated them. Not 
another prisoner’s cry, not the sound of movement above. 
Aria nodded. Once they were free, they could speak of 
what happened. Now, it was time to focus on gaining their 
freedom. “What do you propose we do?” 
“Mako is having a feast to celebrate your capture. The 
acquisition of a Trancer.” 
Aria frowned. “He has you, why would another 
matter?” 
“I am a Trancer no longer.” 
Aria knew her jaw dropped at Iliana’s words, but she 
was unable to hide her shock. “What do you mean?” 
Iliana wrapped her arms even tighter around herself, 
clinging to the only person she could. “I am unable to surf 
the currents.” 
It was not possible. One did not just stop being a 
Trancer. “H-how?” 
Iliana shook her head. “I do not know. All I know is 
that the other side is closed to me.” 
“For how long?” It was so unbelievable. 
Iliana shook her head again. “When I arrived here, I 
tried to reach you, and that was when I found out.” 
A stray thought popped into Aria’s head. “Did you try 
to reach me before you arrived here?” 
Iliana loosened her hold on herself. “No. I was too 
foolish, too scared, to even try.” 

“So it has only been since you entered these walls 
that your skills have disappeared?” 
“Since I noticed, yes,” Iliana answered, her voice tinged 
with impatience. 
The stray thought blossomed into revelation. A gleam 
of hope she could offer her friend. “Perhaps it is not you.” 
“Then what?” 
“This Keep.” 
“The Keep? Are you saying theses walls have powers 
to stop a Trancer?” Iliana scoffed. 
“Hear me out. I have tried to touch you or Tarik more 
than once after you left. Each time something stopped 
me. Something not natural.” 
Iliana paused, her expression wary. “What do you 
mean?” 
Aria reached through the bars and touched her friend’s 
hand. Iliana flinched, but did not pull away. “There is a 
local legend of a group of Builders. It is said they made 
wondrous things. I think they made the wall that keeps 
us out.” 
“Where did you hear of this legend?” 
“Medea told me—” 
“Believe nothing that whore has to say,” Iliana spat. 
Aria understood Iliana’s passion and could not 
disagree, but what was said about the Builders carried 
the taste of truth. “It does explain why I could not enter,” 
she offered. 
Iliana pulled away. “You were tired. Weak. Have you 
tried to trance now that you are in the Keep?” 
“No.” 
“Then do it. Surf the currents and enter my thoughts. 
I bet a coin that you can.” 
Aria nodded with a smile. She would show Iliana that 
Trancing in the Builder’s domain was impossible. Sitting 
in Trancer position, Aria closed her eyes, and breathed. 
Focus. The simple word spiraled through her thoughts. In 
with a breath, out with another. The gray void loomed, 
and then she was though it and in Iliana’s mind. No longer 
bright blues, greens and white, her friend’s mind reflected 
the bleak thoughts she carried within. Bitter red, deep 
purples and midnight blue. 
And something different. A solid wall that lacked color. 

Black as the deepest night, it surrounded most of Iliana’s 
thoughts. The truth struck Aria like a physical blow. It 
was not the Builders that kept her away. It was not the 
Builders’ wall that blocked her. It was her friend. Stronger 
than she thought, or perhaps made so by her capture, 
she kept out all who would be near her. 
Including any who would help her. 
She laid a mental hand on the dark slab, and a barrage 
of fear and pain overwhelmed her. With a sharp inhalation, 
she was back in her body. She opened her eyes. Iliana 
was on the floor, curled up in a ball. 
What had happened? 
“Get out of my mind. Get out of my mind.” Sobbing, 
Iliana rocked back and forth. 
Carefully, Aria rested her still throbbing head in her 
hands, shocked and disheartened by what she had seen. 
The Elders spoke of many things, but never something 
like this. “I am out.” 
The sobbing stopped. “It hurt. It never hurt before.” 
“I am sorry.” But why had she been able to enter 
Iliana’s mind at all? Why now and not before? Perhaps 
the proximity. Perhaps the flicker of hope in her friend’s 
eyes. A tear of pain, distress for her friend who hid behind 
the darkness of her own mind, slid down Aria’s cheek. 
“You owe me a coin.” Iliana’s voice was hoarse. 
“I will give you two.” 
“I do not want you to do that again.” 
“I know.” 
Iliana pushed the short strands of her hair away from 
her pale skin and stood. Dirt covered her red gown and 
stained her cheeks. She did not dust it off this time. “I 
told you the fault lay within me.” 
“There is no fault.” 
“No, I told you—” 
“We will talk of this later.” Aria cut her off. She knew 
the real Iliana lay trapped behind a wall made of anger, 
betrayal, self-loathing and a thousand other little hates. 
It was not a wall broken easily or in a single conversation. 
Perhaps not at all. By the Goddess, what had Mako 
done? 
Iliana paced in front of the cell, all traces of pain 
replaced by the inscrutable expression of one who knows 

what must be done. The rich cloth of her gown whipped 
her ankles as she walked. “I came to tell you what is going 
to happen and what you must do if you want to live.” 
Her friend was right, now was the time for action. 
Healing would wait. Aria drew closer. 
“At the feast, Mako will want to show you off as his 
newest prize.” Iliana continued to pace. “He will ask you 
to enter the minds of his enemies and find their vulnerable 
points.” 
She was not the first Trancer to be asked to do the 
forbidden, and she would not be the first to refuse. “He 
must know that I will not comply.” 
Iliana stopped and gripped the bars, her intensity as 
tangible as the wall that surrounded her soul. “He does. 
In fact, he is counting on it.” 
Aria’s brow rose. “What do you mean?” 
“You must understand that power is everything to 
Mako. Power over life. Power over death. Power over others. 
Even more important than information is his need to 
triumph over you. Once he has that, the rest will come.” 
“He cannot make a Trancer use her powers for ill.” 
“He can if he threatens your son.” 
The fact that Mako knew Tarik was her son was not 
the shock it should have been. 
The anger in her blue eyes as bright as a flame, Iliana 
continued, “I think I found a way to beat him.” 
“How?” 
“I overheard him talking to his first man. At the feast, 
he will bring in a prisoner for you to read. Refuse to do it 
as you normally would. He will insist and threaten Tarik. 
After much protest, you will give in and do as he asks, 
letting him win.” 
Aria gasped at the thought before she could stop 
herself. 
Iliana continued. “What you do not understand is that 
it is not a prisoner you will Trance. It is one of his men. 
That is what he will want you to find out.” 
“Why the elaborate scheme? Why not a real prisoner?” 
“I am not sure, but I have spent enough time with him 
to know that he trusts no one. I suppose it would be easier 
to see if you were being truthful if he knew the outcome 
ahead of time.” 

The test was Warrior-like in strategy, and so was 
Iliana’s countermove and her own role. She sent a small 
prayer to the Goddess that she would live to tell Talon 
about it. “I will do as you ask, and with the help of the 
Goddess, we may yet walk away from here.” 
“Do not hope too hard. I did, and it came to naught.” 
Aria reached through the bars. “I am here now. Do 
not say hope is for naught.” 
Iliana did not take her hand. “You are in a cage. I am 
without the keys. Your son is used against you, and the 
Keep’s whore wants you dead. How can you still hope?” 
Through the currents, Aria felt Iliana’s wall solidify 
and grow stronger. Keeping out all who would touch her 
heart. 
Still, Aria had faith. Faith in Talon, faith in herself, 
and faith in her Goddess. “You have given me the only 
hope I have. How is it you cannot feel the same?” 
Iliana’s eyes brightened, then she blinked, and any 
emerging faith in their future was shuttered back behind 
her mask of indifference. “I will see you tonight. I must go 
before Mako begins to question what I am doing here.” 
Turning on her heel, Iliana ran from the room. 
*** 
Mako plugged the hole in the wall with its wooden 
stopper. The Builders of the Keep had been wondrous 
indeed, even building a listening device that went from 
the prison to the main bedchamber—a perfect place for a 
ruler to learn secrets without others knowing. The small 
opening, perfectly drilled, made the merest whisper 
audible. He pushed the plug until it was flush with the 
wall, and then let the heavy, deep-red curtain fall back 
into place. It would not do for others to know his 
advantages. 
Satisfied, he strode across the vast stone room towards 
the bed. Retrieving a bottle of wine from the bedside table, 
he put the bottle to his lips and took a long pull, savoring 
the richness on his tongue. He had waited for the dark-
haired Trancer, his Iliana, denying his own pleasure in 
the hope to gain her trust and thus, restore her Trancing 
abilities. Now the waiting was over. Aria had proven herself, 
and he could bed Iliana without the worry that he would 
further damage her abilities. After he exposed their little 

scheme, Iliana would be a submissive, if not willing, 
partner. The leather ties that graced each corner of the 
bed caught his eye. Hopefully not too submissive. He 
chuckled to himself. 
As for the resistance, they were only a distraction. If 
Medea had not learned of their plan, it was possible their 
attack may have worked. Although few in numbers, few 
could do much when properly motivated. Now, their 
confidence was gone, fled with Aria’s capture. They would 
attack because of her situation and their foolish sense of 
honor. And they would die. Not a simple death, either, 
but a slaughter. 
Then, when the carnage was over and both Trancers 
were broken, he would take Iliana and make her his. 
Introduce her to the art of love in ways she had never 
imagined. Thank her with passion for the little 
demonstration that proved Aria was what she was not. 
“Tonight, my beauty, I will take you here, by this window, 
for all the world to see. For all to know that you are mine.” 
He took another long pull from the bottle. It was going 
to be a busy evening. 

Twenty 
Formidable. 
It was the first word that came to mind as Talon 
visually measured the hand-cut ironrock that made up 
the walls of the Keep. 
He waited at the edge of the trees and watched the 
daylight fade. Cam moved, restless beneath him. Soon, 
Mako would celebrate Aria’s capture. The thought made 
Talon’s stomach roll. He remembered some of the Reaper 
leader’s parties. The Reapers dined and drank until they 
were numb. Mako arrived only after he had personally 
broken the prisoner. 
What would the Reaper leader do to break Aria? What 
would he ask of her? 
Something that would tear at her tender heart? Her 
mind? Her body? If she succumbed to him, it would prove 
his mastery, and he would demand more. If she refused, 
Talon feared Mako would kill her. Or worse. 
There were things worse than death, and Mako knew 
them all. 
“My Given, I am coming for you,” Talon whispered into 
the night air, hoping her Trancer abilities would allow her 
to feel his presence if not hear his voice. “Be brave.” 
Cam tossed his head and shuffled from leg to leg. Talon 
patted the rohha’s neck. Was his small group of men as 
restless? He peered over his shoulder and into the woods. 
If so, they gave no sign of it. Not a man was visible, but he 
knew they were there. Motionless, they waited for him to 
give the signal. Once given, they would loose arrows to 
hold the Reapers at bay while he scaled the wall to open 
the gate. 
If all went as planned, their small band would occupy 
the enemy while Lore and the larger contingent of Warriors 
slipped in through the tunnel and took the Reapers by 
surprise. A risky plan, but it was all they had. 
If it worked, Aria would be free before Mako could harm 
her. 
The last rays of the sun disappeared, and the shadows 
grew into night. It was time to attack. Talon thrust his 

sword above his head, raised his face to the night sky, 
and screamed out Aria’s name, the word falling from his 
lips like a Warrior’s battle cry. Arrows flew over his head 
and towards the Keep. 
Howls of outrage and pain sounded seconds later, and 
a single Reaper fell from the top of the wall. A return volley 
was fired. 
Time to ride. Man and beast bolted forward, carrying 
both within range of the Reapers’ returning shots. An arrow 
whistled past Talon, so close it grazed Cam. The rohha 
did not falter but continued onwards. 
They reached the wall. Talon reined Cam in and slid 
from his back. More arrows flew above him and over the 
Keep’s wall, keeping the Reapers occupied. Grimly, he 
smiled, grateful for the skill of the men who chose to walk 
this dangerous path with him. 
Pulling a rope and hook from Cam’s back, he wondered 
what would greet him when he reached the top of the 
wall. He slapped the rohha on the rump. “Go.” 
Cam pawed the ground and dashed back towards the 
trees. 
Swinging the rope above his head, Talon let the 
momentum carry it up and over the wall. He tugged hard. 
The hook caught. Time to prove his worth. 
Hand over hand, he scaled the wall, expecting to fall 
to his death when a Reaper cut the line. White knuckled, 
he grabbed the top of the parapet and pulled himself over. 
Twenty lengths away, one of the Reapers rained arrows 
down on the men in the woods, so intent on killing them 
that he never saw Talon. 
“Shortsighted fool,” Talon muttered. 
As if hearing his words, the Reaper turned, his arrow 
notched. 
In a singular swift motion, Talon dropped to one knee, 
pulled a short knife from his boot, and threw it. 
The Reaper fell backwards onto the cold stone, Talon’s 
knife protruding from his throat. 
Still crouched on the ground, Talon made a quick 
reconnaissance. There were less than ten Reapers on the 
Keep’s walkway. Their ploy seemed to have worked. Mako 
always had been arrogant. Now, it would be his demise as 
long as the missing Reapers were at the feast and not 

waiting by the tunnel. 
Standing, Talon pulled his sword from its sheath. He 
spotted the entry to some stairs and headed towards it. 
Running down the spiraled stairway, his boot clad feet 
were as sure in the dark as they were in the light. He held 
his sword at the ready. 
He stopped when he reached the bottom and the open 
entry to courtyard. To the left and just ahead, he spotted 
the wheel and pulley system that opened the gate. 
He also saw the two men who guarded it. Their swords 
still sheathed, they talked to each other, paying no 
attention to either their comrades on the rampart or the 
attackers in the trees. 
One was young. Probably a new recruit. The other he 
recognized from his time as a Reaper. The man, Karr by 
name, had been conceited, filthy, and fat. From the state 
of his matted blonde hair and generous gut, not much 
had changed. No matter. Their past relationship held little 
bearing now. The man would either stand down or die. 
They had been comrades, not friends. 
Reapers had no friends. 
Talon stepped through the doorway. The men spotted 
him and unsheathed their swords in unison. 
With a dancer’s grace, Talon whirled his sword in a 
circle, the blade cutting through the air with a soft swoosh. 
“Stand aside.” 
“We missed your sword, Talon,” Karr replied. A lethal 
smile on his bearded face changed his expression from 
surprise to delight. “Perhaps after I kill you, I will claim it 
as my own.” 
“Brave words for a man who fights like a one-legged 
kaffa,” Talon taunted. 
The Reapers charged. 
Talon met them head on. The sound of metal-on-metal 
rang through the air as he parried one sword and then 
the other. In unison, the trio moved backward, then 
forward, each trying to overcome the other. 
The younger Reaper parried and left his side open to a 
thrust. Talon pressed towards him, taking the advantage. 
His sword found unguarded flesh, and the Reaper died. 
Karr did not spare his fallen comrade a glance, but 
came at Talon in full force. He sliced his sword through 

the air. Talon stopped it with his own blade. For a moment, 
the men were face to face, jaw to jaw, as each fought to 
defeat the other. “I’ve always wondered what it would be 
like to fight you.” Karr grunted the words, his bulk no 
match for Talon’s well-muscled strength. 
Talon did not reply to the taunt. He cleared his mind 
of everything but his training, assessed the situation, and 
knew what he had to do. 
He stepped away and rolled to the right. Karr stumbled 
forward, his great bulk caught off-guard. Now on his knees, 
Talon thrust his sword up at his off-balance opponent. 
When Karr regained his footing, he found Talon’s sword 
in his ribs. 
The Reaper did not utter a word as he fell to the ground, 
dead. 
Talon pulled his sword from the body, and wiped it on 
Karr’s tunic. He glanced at the dead men at his feet and 
shook his head. What he wanted was Mako, not a war. 
He shook the brief regret off his psyche. Now was not 
the time for recrimination or hesitation. It was time to 
stop Mako from ever taking a woman against her will or 
killing a child. It was time for revenge. 
Revenge against the monster who killed my son, Talon 
thought, reveling in the bloodlust that roiled up like a 
sudden fire in his veins. It rose higher with each breath, 
tainting his vision with its red veil and making regret 
something found only in the recesses of his mind. 
His strength returned, he grabbed the wheel, and 
cranked it around. The gate rose as high as his knees. 
Another turn and the gap reached waist high. 
Under a barrage of arrows, his men ran from the safety 
of the trees and dove under the gate. 
All were present. He motioned with his sword. 
It was time to find Mako. 
*** 
Wrists tied together, Aria lurched down the hallway 
as a Reaper poked her in the small of her back. His Reaper 
status was not nearly as offensive as his unwashed state. 
A waft of old sweat and unclean teeth assaulted her nose. 
A revolting combination, and one that made her want to 
retch. 
It was either that, or the fact she was finally going to 

meet the Reaper leader, Mako. Her knees shook at the 
thought, and she stumbled, crashing into the wall with 
her shoulder. 
The Reaper jabbed her in the small of her back again, 
pushing her forward. “Walk, Trancer or I’ll drag you by 
your hair.” 
He said the word “Trancer” as if he spewed something 
foul from his mouth. Aria glanced over her shoulder and 
shot her tormentor a scathing glance. 
“I said walk,” he commanded. 
“Where to?” The retort escaped before she could stop 
it. 
Without hesitation, the Reaper gripped the back of 
her neck and turned her head until she faced a door to 
her left. “Thank your Goddess that I do not snap your 
pretty neck,” he muttered in her ear. “But Mako seems to 
think we need another mind-reading witch in our midst.” 
He released her, pushing her forward. Aria stumbled again, 
but regained her footing. She did not look back. Her 
tormentor sounded as if he wanted a reason to hurt her. 
She stopped at the door. A huge wooden structure, it 
was big enough to ride a rohha through and solid enough 
to withstand an assault. The room behind it must be huge, 
she thought. More than enough room for the Reapers and 
their feast. 
“Open it.” 
Her wrists still tied, she took a deep breath and 
pushed. 
The chamber opened before her. Smaller than she had 
thought, it was as dim as an underground grotto, and 
just as empty. She cocked her head in confusion. Where 
were the Reapers? 
“I am so glad you decided to join me for dinner.” The 
comment boomed in the silence, and a torch flared to life. 
She set her focus towards the source. No, not empty. 
A single table graced the end of the room. A shadowed 
figure sat at it, waiting. Mako. 
“The decision was not mine to make.” Aria glanced 
backwards. 
With a growl, her jailer shoved her forward. “Walk.” 
Behind her, the door slammed shut, leaving her alone 
with the Reaper leader. 

Stiffening her resolve, she made her way across the 
room, her footfalls bouncing off the bare stone walls and 
back to her ears. She stopped a few feet from her captor 
and took him in through hooded eyes. 
Indifferent, lethal and quite handsome. The 
unconscious assessment caught her by surprise. Rich 
black garb clung to a well-muscled body. His short hair 
was clean and neat. His brown eyes gazed at her fearlessly, 
but it was not his physical presence, that held her 
attention. He had an aura, a presence that commanded 
respect, but it was respect born of fear, not love. 
He was everything Iliana had said and much she had 
not. 
With slow deliberation, the Reaper leader stood, 
unfolding himself from the chair. He was as tall as Talon. 
He stared at Aria, capturing her eyes with his own, 
unnerving her. “Please. Sit.” His gaze moved to the chair 
that graced the other side of the table. 
Aria sat. Calm of mind. Calm of body. She recited the 
mantra in her thoughts, but it went no further. Her hands 
shook. She hid them under the table. If she did not find 
her center, she would never be able to do what was needed. 
She shut her eyes and saw Talon. He battled. His sword 
swung like the hand of righteousness as he destroyed his 
foes. His strength and resolution shone like a holy light. 
She watched her Giver win the fight and move on. Her 
focus wavered. She could not tell if the vision was present 
or future. It did not matter. If he were here, would he see 
the same strength in her? Or only her weakness? 
If she could not gather herself, do as she had planned 
and make Mako believe her, she knew what the answer 
would be. 
Calm of mind. Calm of body. 
“Are you ill, Trancer?” Mako asked. 
Aria jumped at the voice behind her and opened her 
eyes. Mako stood behind her now. His presence was solid 
and menacing. 
“I said, are you ill?” 
The concern in his tone, the warmth of the question, 
displaced her fear with anger, strengthening her. Did he 
think she was stupid? That she would fall victim to a 
handsome shell and false affection? “No, but eating could 

prove to be a problem.” She held up her bound wrists. 
Wielding a small knife, Mako reached over and around 
her. 
She stiffened. 
Instead of plunging the blade into her heart, he cut 
the rope that bound her. “Eat.” 
Aria tried not to flinch as his hot breath caressed her 
unprotected neck. “Are you dining as well?” 
The air sucked away from her as he straightened and 
walked to the other side of the table. He did not sit, but 
smiled down at her. “Perhaps later. For now, I will watch 
you enjoy your meal.” 
Refusing to meet his gaze, Aria rubbed the raw welts 
and wished Iliana had mentioned that she would be alone 
with him. She poked at a platter of meat with her tong. 
She was not much of a flesh eater, and this looked as if it 
were just cut from the animal. 
“Is there something wrong with the food. I can have 
something else brought if you want.” Mako offered. 
“It is fine.” Selecting a slightly more cooked slab of 
flesh, Aria placed it on her plate and cut off a small piece. 
It tasted like dust in her mouth. 
Satisfied, Mako nodded. Tapping the flat of his knife 
against his palm, he began to pace. Tap. Step. Tap. Step. 
Then a turn, which brought him within a breath of Aria’s 
unguarded back. She held in the need to shudder, the 
urge to pull away. 
Tap. Step. He walked away from her. “After the meal, 
I will require your assistance. I have a prisoner who refuses 
to tell me the location of his followers.” 
A wave of relief swept over Aria. This was what she 
had expected, what she waited for. She did not say a word, 
but watched Mako out of the corner of her eyes. He turned 
back. Tap. Step. She swallowed the tasteless piece of flesh. 
Let him make the first move. 
Tap. Step. He was behind her again. He stopped. “I 
want you to break his mind for me. Conventional torture 
has been, shall we say, unsuccessful.” 
Conventional torture? Mako spoke the phrase casually, 
as if torture were normal dinner conversation. Thank the 
Goddess this was all a game to test her. She raised an 
eyebrow, ready to play her part. “You know it is forbidden 

for a Trancer to delve the mind of an unwilling subject, 
much less break that mind.” 
She felt a tug as her braid lifted away from her neck. 
A flash of Mako’s blade caught her eye, but did not connect 
with her flesh. In horror, she reached back. The waist 
length strands were still intact. What had he done? 
He answered her question when she heard his knife 
slip back into its leather sheaf and felt her braid being 
undone. He had cut the leather thong that bound it. 
“Yes, but under the circumstances, you will do as I 
bid.” Now her hair was free and Mako buried his hands in 
the red mass, weighing it. 
Aria shut her eyes and reminded herself this was but 
a game Mako played with her. To flinch from his touch 
would declare him the winner. “You cannot make me do 
the unthinkable,” she managed to say. 
He released her hair from his grasp with a laugh. “Now 
is not the time to discuss such matters.” Walking back 
around the table, he returned to his chair. Sitting, he 
speared a piece of meat from the platter. “After you have 
eaten, we will see what it is you will and will not do.“ 
Her captor played with her like a katah‘ played with 
its food. First smacking with the extended claw, and then 
pulling back to see what the prey would do. Would it run? 
Would it cower in fear? 
She straightened. She would not be his prey. 
The great door opened, and Mako looked up. The 
sounds of shouting accompanied the Reaper who entered. 
It sounded like a battle. 
Her heart beat faster. Talon? A surge of 
determination—a Warrior’s will and conviction—flooded 
her senses. Yes. She was sure it was him. Her vision was 
true. The attack raged. 
The Reaper walked towards them, stopped in front of 
Mako, and stood at attention, waiting for his leader’s 
acknowledgment. 
Mako nodded. The man leaned forward to mutter 
something. Aria strained, but she could not hear their 
words. 
She did not need to. Mako’s change of expression told 
her more than words ever would. It was as dark as a 
nightmare, as deep as a well. 

“Take a contingent.” He spat the words, the fury 
beneath them barely contained. 
The man nodded and walked away. The sounds of 
shouting halted with the closing of the door. 
The strain was tangible as Mako continued the meal. 
He gestured for Aria to eat. She broke off a bit of bread 
and stared at it. What was happening? 
Now, the sounds of shouting, so loud that they 
broached the thick walls, broke the silence. With each 
cry, Aria watched Mako’s grip on his knife tighten. It did 
not matter. Now that she knew Talon had come for her, it 
was even more important for her to succeed in the charade. 
Perhaps she could buy enough time for Talon to reach her 
and Tarik. 
The door opened again, and Aria’s gaze jerked up. It 
was not Talon. Another Reaper entered and walked over. 
Disappointment nipped at her. She pushed it away. 
“Speak. Are the rebels contained?” 
The man shifted from one foot to another. “No, my 
Lord Mako.” 
“Why not?” Mako asked, the words forced from his 
clenched jaw and gritted teeth. 
The messenger shifted again. “There were more than 
we thought, Lord Mako.” 
“How many more?” 
“Two contingents of Warriors have joined them.” 
Mako rose to his feet. Gone was the rage. Vanished 
was the anger. In its place, calm descended. An unreadable 
mask that was far more frightening. 
“What would you have us do?” The messenger 
stammered the question. 
“Take the remaining intruders and kill them, of course. 
I want their heads on spears by morning.” 
The man backed away. “As you wish.” 
Mako smiled. “I will join you after I have finished with 
her.” 
Aria cringed as a wave of hate, black in its purity, 
rolled over her, touching her Trancer senses. She 
recognized it from the Tower and the night her people 
died. No matter that he attempted to play the gracious 
host, there was no mercy in this man. No caring. And 
there was something more, something beneath the 

blackness. She shut her eyes and focused, skimming his 
mind. Knowledge. Somehow, he knew everything she and 
Iliana had discussed. Another wave of hate rolled over 
her, through her. Her stomach fell. What had they been 
thinking, believing they could fool this man? No, not a 
man. A dark angel bent on destroying everything. 
She opened her eyes to see him staring at her. 
Assessing her. Gazing at her as if he knew she searched 
his soul. 
He said nothing, but pulled a rope. Within moments, 
Iliana appeared. She had to warn her. Tell her friend that 
Mako knew of their scheme. Tell her to take Tarik and 
run. Aria sank into her chair. Warn her how? Iliana was 
mind deaf and to shout would be to endanger them all 
further. 
“Get the child, and bring him here.” Mako barked the 
order. His eyes never left Aria’s. 
Iliana bowed her head in acknowledgment, and Aria’s 
heart sank. No, she begged silently. Keep him safe. 
Head still down, Iliana left, only to return moments 
later with Aria’s son in her arms. 
“Tarik.” His name was like the first breath of life upon 
Aria’s lips. She reached for him, and Iliana placed him in 
her arms. He wiggled and waved his arms. Her heart broke 
into a thousand pieces, and then mended, filling the hollow 
space that had been created with his loss. So alive. So 
perfect. Bending her head, Aria kissed his chubby hand 
as he tugged at her hair, and for a moment, there was no 
battle. No fear. There was only mother and child. 
“Enough.” Mako’s command broke through the tiny 
flash of hope, and he took Tarik from Aria’s arms. 
She reached out. The loss, so soon after she had just 
found him, was worse than a blade. Worse than when she 
woke and found her people dead. 
Mako ignored her and held the babe up and out, 
surveying the young life like one would look at a wounded 
rohha. Was it worth saving, or would it be better to put 
the poor thing out of its misery? 
Aria let her hand drop, mentally burning with fear 
that Mako would do worse than just hold her child. 
A heartbeat later, he handed Tarik back to Iliana. “You 
are dismissed.” 

Even though her friend was deaf to the currents, Aria 
sent out a mental plea for Iliana to keep Tarik safe. 
With a nod, almost as if she heard the appeal, Iliana 
stepped back through the curtain, taking Tarik with her. 
Aria let go a sigh of relief. For now, her son was safe. 
Iliana would continue to protect him, as she had been 
doing for so long. 
Mako turned his chill gaze on Aria. “I had hoped to let 
you play your game of intrigue. It amuses me to watch 
those who think they can outwit me.” 
A shout of outrage sounded in the hallway. The fighting 
was close. Another heartbeat and their rescue would be 
at hand. “What do you mean, outwit you?“ 
Mako must have sensed the urgency as well. His hand 
shot out, grabbing Aria’s upper arm, and pulling her to 
him. His fingers dug into her tender flesh, and she winced. 
“Do not play games with me, Trancer. That time is past. 
You will do as I say, and do it now, or shall I bring Tarik 
back to help encourage you. Is that what you want?” 
Aria did not try to pull away. To let Tarik suffer at 
Mako’s hand... She shuddered at the thought. “No.” 
“Good. No more games.” He pushed Aria to the ground. 
She landed with a small “oomph.” “Tell me how many 
attack. Tell me their vulnerabilities. Tell me everything.” 
She could not, would not, sacrifice either Talon or 
Tarik. Aria ran a hand over her tangled hair, dipping her 
head and hiding the fear in her eyes. 
“Do it now, Trancer. Choose between your son and 
those whom you do not even know.” 
She glanced at the door, but it remained closed. Tarik’s 
life was in her hands as well as Talon’s and his men’s. 
She could not sacrifice any of them. She could not ask 
them to die. She could not ask them to kill. 
Not if she refused to do the same. 
The path opened before her. She would kill Mako. Not 
with a blade, but with her mind and a mental grip as 
tight as a gauntlet. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed 
hard. 
It was the ultimate betrayal to the Trancer oath, and 
if the act of taking a life did not kill her, her people would. 
Still, to save her family and her friends, she would do 
anything. Even become the very thing that her father 

accused her of being. A witch. 
Crossing her legs in the Trancer position, she looked 
up at Mako. “I choose my son.” 
“I thought as much.” A smug grin distorted his face. 
His conceited smirk rankled, but it would be gone soon 
enough. She closed her eyes. Forgive me my Goddess. 
Forgive me Talon. I never wanted it to come to this. I wanted 
better for us both. She sent the plea to ride on the currents, 
using all her love, all her hope to force it along, before she 
gathered the darker forces within. 
*** 
“I thought I told you Trancing was too dangerous.” 
Standing in the doorway, Talon could not take his 
gaze off Aria. Smudged, tangled, and very much alive, she 
was a vision to behold. 
Aria opened her eyes, her surprise and relief obvious 
even in the dim torchlight. “Talon.” Her voice carried across 
the room, breaking the spell of shock. In a flash, she rose 
and moved towards him. 
She ran only a step before Mako’s hand shot out and 
grabbed her by the hair, jerking her back. Just as fast, 
his other hand produced a knife to hold at her throat. 
Sure that Mako preferred a live hostage to a dead 
Trancer, Talon waited for the Reaper’s reaction as opposed 
to charging blindly forward. One did not attack when the 
advantage clearly belonged to the opposition. Instead, one 
waited for change, because with change came opportunity. 
He did not have to wait long. 
“Medea told me you had returned, but I must admit I 
thought she lied.” 
“Why?” Talon’s eyes narrowed. “Did you think me a 
coward?” He slid a step closer to Mako. A step closer to 
Aria. 
“No. I know your bravery. I never thought my own 
blood would be so foolish.” 
Talon stopped. Silence descended on the room. Of all 
the words Mako could have said, these were the ones he 
had prayed Aria would never hear. 
“Your blood?” Aria repeated, her tone stunned. 
Her question pierced Talon’s heart like a blade. 
The silence lengthened, growing in enormity, until 
Mako shattered it with a laugh. Head thrown back, he 

howled. “You did not tell her?” He laughed harder. 
Despite all of his training, Talon faltered. Did Aria hate 
him, now that she knew the truth of his lineage? The 
thought cracked the armor around his heart. “How could 
I tell her that the Reaper Leader, the slaughterer of 
innocents, is my brother?” 
Despite the knife at her throat, Aria slouched in Mako’s 
arms. 
The crack around Talon’s heart widened into a gulf, 
exposing emotions he thought he had banished long ago. 
He inhaled sharply at the unfamiliar pain. 
“Did you neglect to tell her you were a Reaper as well? 
A commander in my army?” Mako asked. 
“Yes, he did.” Aria answered for Talon. Her voice broke 
with a sob. 
She no longer loved him. He saw it in her eyes and 
heard it in her silent accusation. Her love had seemed 
almost an inconvenience before. It made her do foolish 
things. Made her act in ways that brought her harm. Now, 
he would give his life to see that look in her eyes again. 
The armor shattered, releasing his raw emotions. Pain of 
loss washed over him, drowning him in its deep waters, 
dragging him under. 
Talon staggered forward a step before righting himself. 
His pain could wait. Now, only one thing mattered. Saving 
Aria. 
“Let her go.” Talon raised his sword and pointed it 
towards his brother. 
“And do what? Fight you?” 
“Yes. Let us end this rivalry.” 
“Stand up, Trancer.” Mako jerked Aria closer to him. 
Slowly, she straightened. She said not a word, but 
her look of betrayal spoke volumes to Talon. 
Forgive me. Did she hear his silent plea? Did she realize 
he did not dare say the words, not while she was in Mako’s 
hands. 
Mako broke the silence of the tableau. “A good leader 
knows when to fight, and a great one knows when to walk 
away.” He moved the knife, letting the tip come to rest 
just below Aria’s ear. “I am a great leader, and I will not 
fight you today, brother.” He moved towards the door, 
using Aria as a shield as he passed Talon. 

Talon followed their progress with his sword. A surge 
of fear swept through him. He could not let them leave. If 
Mako escaped and took Aria with him, the next time he 
saw her it would be with her throat cut. He took a step 
towards the pair. 
His brother stopped in the doorway. He pressed the 
knife deeper into Aria’s skin. A bead of blood slid down 
her pale flesh. 
Talon flinched. 
She pressed her lips tight, but did not cry out in either 
pain or fear. She was as brave as a Warrior, but he had 
never doubted her courage, only her experience. He could 
not let that courage die. Not because of him. 
“Fight me.” Talon dropped his sword a notch. “Or do 
you fear failure?” 
Mako’s face reddened. “I fear nothing.” 
“You fear this.” Talon flipped his sword in his hand. 
“Or you would not hide behind a woman. Is that the kind 
of leader you are?” 
Mako’s color deepened, and Talon knew he had drawn 
first blood. 
But Mako’s flush of shame disappeared as quickly as 
it had come. “We both know you are the better swordsman. 
You can cast doubts on my leadership, but remember it is 
I who have the hostage. Not you.” Mako jerked Aria’s head 
back, exposing her throat. “If it is a fight you want, I agree, 
but I will spill her blood before mine stains the floor.” 
Talon circled his sword again, drawing Mako’s 
attention. “Leave her out of this. She is nothing to you.” 
“You are right. To me, she is less than nothing. A tool 
to be used, but...” Mako’s voice trailed off, and he stared 
at Talon, evaluating, searching, as if seeking a revelation. 
Suddenly, he lessened his hold on Aria, letting her pull 
her head upright. Jerking her around, he searched her 
face, and then spun her back until she faced away from 
him. 
Mako smiled. 
What does he see? Talon wondered, apprehensive at 
the grin that drew his brother’s lips upwards. 
Mako pulled Aria closer, until his head was just over 
her shoulder. “But I think, my brother, that she means 
something to you. Something more than just a Trancer.” 

Were his feelings that obvious? Talon shook his head, 
denying the accusation. 
“Do not bother to deny it. I know you care for her. 
Just like I knew the Tower,” Mako pulled Aria’s hair aside 
and nuzzled her neck, always keeping his eye on Talon. 
“Her Tower, was important to you, as was the child.” 
Talon did not doubt his brother’s claim. Growing up, 
Mako had always sensed things about him. When he lied. 
What frightened him. His brother had known—not as a 
Trancer or a Warrior would—but with an evil malevolence, 
he knew everything about Talon. 
It was this knowledge that drove him to destroy all 
Talon held dear. 
But the knowledge did not make his brother invincible. 
He would still pay. Pay for Aria’s pain. Pay for the death of 
the Tower. 
Pay for Tarik’s death. 
Mako ran his tongue up Aria’s cheek. 
Talon’s hand tightened of its own volition, aching to 
slay the man who dared violate Aria. “Arm yourself. I would 
have your blood on my blade.” 
“Enough.” Mako raised his head. “You came for her. 
Let me go, and I swear I will leave her alive.” 
His brother would never be so generous. “Now who 
lies?” 
“You know me too well. I will not fight you, nor will I 
give her up.” Mako laughed. “Unless, of course, you can 
make me a better offer.” 
A better offer? He did not want to fall into Mako’s web 
of words but there was little choice other than to play 
along. “Such as?” 
“Drop your sword and submit to me.” 
Surrender? “My life for hers?” 
“Yes.” 
“How can I trust you?” 
Mako lowered the knife, letting it come to rest against 
Aria’s breast. “Do you have a choice?” 
It was true. Mako held Aria, and Talon could not risk 
her life. He looked at his Given’s face. She showed no fear. 
Only resignation. Did she expect to die? He had lied to 
her, misled her by not revealing his past. Now that she 
knew, did she think less of him? Did she think that since 

the blood of a killer ran in his veins that he was one as 
well? 
That he would not give his blood for hers? 
He flashed back to their first night together. The night 
they created a child. He had bled for her then, and he 
would do so now. He would die for her a thousand times, 
and it would never be enough. 
It would never be enough to prove his love. 
It hit him like a fist. Love. He loved Aria. Loved her 
more than life. More than death. 
The choice was made. 
He opened his fingers. His sword clattered to the floor. 
“No!” Aria cried out and struggled in her captor’s arms. 
Perhaps after time had passed, she would forgive him 
his heritage and his deception. “Be still and soon you will 
be free,” he told her 
Mako grinned in satisfaction. “Kneel before me.” 
Talon took a deep breath. Only Aria mattered. His life 
was nothing. “Let her go.” 
“First, kneel.” 
His brother was a ruthless egomaniac, and he held 
Aria. Talon knelt on the cold stone and prayed he had 
made the right choice and Mako would let Aria go in favor 
of a more entertaining target. Please, Goddess, let her live. 
He raised his eyes. 
Mako smiled. “You always were a fool.” Pushing Aria 
away, he raised his knife, readying it to plunge it into her 
back. 
Time slowed, crawled to a standstill, as Talon pulled 
a knife from his other boot and rose to his feet. The hilt 
was hot and shiny in his palm. 
Mako’s knife reached its arc. 
Talon poised his hand to throw the blade. It never left 
his fingers. 
Mako’s knife never completed its descent. 
Instead, a shout of pain rent the air as his brother 
arched backwards, clawing at his back like a drowning 
man clawed for the water’s surface. 
Aria ran into Talon’s arms. 
Mako’s shouts stopped. His eyes rolled upwards, and 
he fell forward, face down onto the stone floor with a knife 
in his back. 

Medea. 
She stood in the doorway, her hands red with Mako’s 
blood. Reaching down, she pulled the knife from her lover’s 
back and wiped the red-stained blade on her dress. She 
smiled at Talon and Aria, her expression as virtuous. 
“Nobody leaves me.” 
Knife in hand, she walked way, padding barefoot down 
the hall. 
Aria lifted her face to Talon. Her eyes were black, 
dilated. Shocked. 
Talon pulled her back against him and stroked her 
hair. Neither spoke. It was over. Mako was dead. His 
brother was dead, and Aria lived. 
He should be happy. 
He was not. He closed his eyes as tears, unfamiliar 
and hot, flooded them. He remembered Mako, young and 
hopeful, giving him part of his bread and telling Talon 
that one day they would be great men. Men of stature. 
Men of honor. 
That was what he missed. That boy. His brother. 
That and Aria’s love. 
He kissed the top of her head. At least she lived. He 
could ask the Goddess for no more than that, except 
forgiveness. 
“Talon?” 
A warm hand tenderly touched his cheek. He opened 
his eyes. “Aria.” She stood before him, her hair awry and 
clothes torn. She was the most beautiful woman in the 
world, and he had lost her. 
“I am sorry.” 
“So am I.” 
The sadness in her voice tore at his soul more than a 
blade ever could, but he could think of nothing else to 
say. He wished she would scream at him, beat him. 
Anything, other than hate him. He could not look at her. 
He did not deserve to. His blood was the blood that killed. 
In his heart beat a clan of killers. 
She touched his other cheek. “I am sorry good men 
died to free me. I am sorry your brother died. But most of 
all, I am sorry you did not trust me enough to tell me the 
truth about your past. Did you think I would not 
understand?” 

The truth. It was all she had wanted, and she deserved 
no less. “I wanted to protect you. Protect myself.” 
“From what?” 
He brushed her cheek with his hand, praying it would 
not be the last time he felt her skin against his. “From the 
look in your eyes when you realized that Mako and I are 
of the same blood. The disgust you would feel when you 
found out you had given your body to the enemy. 
Her eyes filled with tears. He caught one with his 
fingertip. “From the tears you would shed when you saw 
how much the enemy loved you.” 
She caught his hand. “You are not your brother. You 
are not the enemy. If you were, then I would love my enemy 
until the day I drew last breath.” 
He stared at her, stunned. After all he had done. After 
all the lies. She still loved him. He whispered a prayer to 
the Goddess, thanking her for her bounty. He did not 
deserve Aria. He caught another tear and brought it to his 
lips. “I will try to be worthy of you.” 
“Be my mate. Be the father to my children. Be my 
lover. That is all I want. All I ask.” 
A father. It was the only hole left in his heart. As much 
as he wanted another child, it could never take Tarik’s 
place. “A father? Perhaps we shall soon be blessed.” 
“Sooner than you think,” a voice said from the back 
of the room, interrupting them. 
It was a young girl with short black hair. 
“Talon, I would like you to meet Iliana,” Aria said with 
a smile. 
Iliana? If she was alive ... 
Aria took a bundle from Iliana’s arms “And Tarik, 
your son,” she said, placing the bundle in his arms. 
His son? He pulled the blanket back and saw a babe 
with pale green eyes—the same color as Aria’s when they 
first met. Tarik. It was true. His son lived! 
The unfamiliar tears threatened again, then spilled. 
The bundle wiggled in his arms, and he drew the tiny life 
against his chest, terrified he would drop the child. 
He looked up through his tears to see Aria grinning 
from ear to ear. “I told you he was alive.” 
Talon pulled her close. “I will never doubt you again.” 
He kissed her, thanking the Goddess for bringing Aria 

to him. More than a Given, she had become a Giver, 
bringing him everything he could ever want. A son. A 
family. 
And love. 

Epilogue 
“May you find peace with the Goddess and a home 
in her eternal garden.” Aria knelt at the foot of the 
unmarked grave and blew out the candles she had lit 
earlier—a symbol of the life that had been extinguished. 
Gaur’s request to send his friend to the afterlife with the 
proper rituals was done. She rose to her feet, leaving the 
candles behind. 
They had been lit too many times, and she was tired 
of the smell of death. 
“I see you found him.” 
She whirled about. Talon stood behind her with Tarik 
in his arms. Tenderly, he bent his head, kissing the babe’s 
shock of black hair. When she was heavy with Tarik, she 
had dreamt that Talon would be a good father. The reality 
was far better than any dream. Since recovering his son, 
Talon carried him everywhere. 
She gave Talon an impish grin and held out her arms. 
“If he is heavy, I would be more than happy to hold him.” 
Talon raised a dark eyebrow. “You had him already. 
It is my turn.” 
Aria laughed. “He was inside. It was not as if I could 
touch him.” 
“No, but you felt his movement. His growth as he 
readied to enter the world.” Talon held his hand out to 
her, and she took it. He pulled her close, moving Tarik to 
one side. “Beloved, have I told you I am sorry?” 
She let her arm slide up his back. “For what?” 
“For missing our son’s birth. For letting my brother 
take him? For not believing you and listening to my own 
hatred instead?” 
She stroked Talon’s face with her other hand, letting 
her fingertips wander over his lips until she cupped his 
cheek in her palm. “You told me in many ways. Every 
time you ached and angered for Tarik’s loss. When you 
dropped your sword to save my life. All that you did told 
me what your voice could not. Your actions spoke louder. 
They always will.” 
Holding the baby with one arm, Talon cupped her 
cheek in his massive palm, and she leaned into the 

warmth. “Then I hope my actions now will please you.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“I want to stay here, Aria. This region needs a 
Warrior’s guild, and some of the rebels want to train. 
Lore and the men who followed are unhappy with the 
Council’s actions. They would stay as well.” 
It was a good decision. Talon was a leader. A man of 
action. The Council of Seven would never accept him, 
and he could not accept them, either. This was the best 
choice. 
If only her path were as clear. 
Talon’s voice broke her thoughts. “I want you to stay 
with me.” 
Stay? A Trancer in a Warrior’s guild? It was a novel 
thought. Would they want her, knowing what she had 
almost done? “Talon, before I answer, there is something 
you should know.” 
He raised a dark brow. “This sounds grave.” 
“It is. When Mako had me, before you arrived, I almost 
did the unthinkable.” She stopped, the telling too hard. 
Would he see her as the witch her father claimed her to 
be? If fear clouded his eyes, it would be unbearable. 
“Which is?” Talon encouraged her. 
She took a deep breath. “Before you came, I was going 
to kill Mako. Kill him with a thought. Let the forces within 
myself destroy his mind since my hand could not.” 
No answer. He simply stared at her, his face 
expressionless as he absorbed her words. 
Aria turned away. It was over, her worst fears realized. 
She blinked, trying to stop the sudden tears. 
A strong hand turned her back around. “Was it an 
easy decision?” 
She shook her head. 
“Did you do it to save yourself?” 
“No,” she replied, shocked that he would think such 
a thing. “For Tarik. For you and the men.” 
He smiled. “Aria, you have the honor of a Warrior. I 
know that, and so do my men. We would never doubt 
your decision. Stay with me. Stay with us.” 
“Will they accept me?” She stepped back from his 
embrace. “If I stay, they must accept me as both Trancer 
and woman.” Talon was one of few who accepted all 

aspects of her. Her family had loved only the girl, and a 
Tower would never accept her as Talon’s mate. Were these 
Warriors more open-minded, or would she have to fight 
for this as well? She wrapped her arms across her chest. 
She was tired of fighting. 
“The men see the honor within,” Talon assured her. 
“They would have it no other way, and neither would I.” 
“What of Iliana?” Her friend could not go back to her 
previous life. Since Mako’s death, she barely spoke and 
preferred to stare at the wall in the makeshift infirmary. 
Her silence frightened Aria. Was Iliana’s spirit broken or 
simply wounded? She could not tell, could not break 
past the barrier that Iliana erected in her mind. As for 
her friend’s Trancing skills, Aria did not know if they 
would ever return. 
“She can stay as well. The men worry for her like 
they would a sister or daughter. They take turns trying 
to make her laugh, but she ignores them.” 
Aria nodded in understanding. Iliana ignored her as 
well, doing anything to avoid eye contact. They had been 
so close once. Would they ever have that again? 
Talon continued. “Lore tries to coax her to eat. This 
morning she responded by screaming at him to go away 
and threw the bowl at his head.” 
It was a step. “Give him my thanks.” 
“Why not tell him yourself?” Talon reached out and 
pulled Aria back into his arms. “You have not given me 
an answer, beloved. Will you stay with me? It is not a 
Tower, but I will do everything in my power to make you 
happy. All you ever have to do is—“ 
“Hush.” Aria cut him off with a finger against his 
lips. She gave a small shake of her head. Make her happy? 
Each day alive was a blessing. Each moment in Talon’s 
arms was a joy. Each time she saw him with his son was 
a reason to sing aloud. 
If she were any happier, she would split in two for 
one person could not contain any more. 
She removed her finger from his mouth and replaced 
it with her lips, taking a moment to savor the heat 
between them. “I will stay with you until my last breath, 
but first, I want something only you can give me.” 
“Anything,” Talon breathed, his lips inches from hers. 

“You hold my heart, my life, and my soul at your 
command.” 
She smiled. “I want a daughter.” 
He smiled back. “Just one?” 
Don’t Miss 
Sharron McClellan’s 
Sequel to The Given 
The Seeker 
Coming in 2004