The Fire Within

By Joely Sue Burkhart

Copyright © 2008  Joely Sue Burkhart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form without the express, written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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ONE

Blessed Lady above, let him kill me quickly.

Eleni refused to cower as her brother strode toward her, his darkened face twisted with rage beneath the simple gold circlet on his head.  Blood splattered the front of his velvet frock and once pristine ruffled shirt.  The messenger had been reduced to a dark smear on the white marble of the High Court.

From the very first day of Darius’s rule—when he’d killed his predecessor, wife, and their three-year-old child with his own hand—everyone in the Green Lands had learned to fear their new High King’s wrath.

“How close?”  Veins throbbed in his forehead and neck, but his voice was painfully calm.  Darius didn’t need volume to intimidate.  “Can I stop them before they reach Allandor?”

“My contacts confirm she’s already in Rashan.”  Eleni’s stomach clenched, but her hands were steady; her face, smooth; her voice, the same melodic and deliberately soothing tone she painstakingly cultivated.  From an early age, she’d learned best how to diffuse Darius’s temper in order to survive.  “Both Taza and Maston have already sided with her.”

Darius paced before the golden monstrosity he’d stolen with murder, treachery, and lies.  Massive lions pawed above the High Throne, mouths gaping, claws like swords.  Old blood stained the regal profiles.  The last person to infuriate the High King had learned that those vicious talons were not merely decorative.  The young noble had suffered for two days dangling above Darius’s head before finally dying.

“The North Forest holds strong with me, and the Shanhasson Guard is mine.”

Prudence told her to remain silent, but she couldn’t when her brother needed information she possessed, no matter how much he would dislike it.  “Your Shanhasson Guard is down to only two hundred, Your Majesty.  An entire division was sent to silence the rising rebellion in the east, along with two divisions of Northerners.  All were lost to Princess Jenna.  You have few troops on hand, and resources stretched thin.  We must—”

Darius whirled, charged, and before Eleni could soften the truth, she found herself dangling with his hand wrapped around her throat.  “We, dearest sister?  We must what?”

Her heart hammered in her chest, and instinct screamed at her to fight, dig her fingernails into his forearm, scream, and kick toward his groin, yet she did none of these things.  Fighting would only inflame him.  Crying out would only incite his need to hear more screams and pleading.

“Allies,” she forced the word out through her strangled throat.

He set her on her feet but kept his fingers locked around her neck.  “I’m listening.”

Dark spots filled her vision and she couldn’t help a loud rasp, fighting for air through her constricted windpipe.  Eleni gasped out, “disposable allies…fighters…no claim to Throne.”

“Who?”  His voice was still cold with menace, but he grudgingly loosened his fingers enough that she hauled in a wheezing breath.  “The bitch has taken Allandor, my strongest enemy, along with all its allies.  Pella will stand with me, but it’s only a duchy, no match for the other countries in our happy republic.”

Eleni took another deep breath of air before answering.  She had a feeling he would dislike this answer as well.  “Keldar.”

“Savages?”  Darius laughed, his dark eyes dancing as he slowly squeezed his hand shut again.  “Why should the High King of all the Green Lands seek help from desert bandits?”

A wave of nausea flooded her stomach as the darkness rolled back.  So many times she’d feared he would kill her.  She’d dreamed it for years, in a thousand gruesome ways.  Surely he wouldn’t kill her this way, so easily; endless torture was much more to his liking.  She forced the word out.  “Revenge.”

He waited for her to continue, but she couldn’t get enough air.  Head aching, lungs blazing in agony, she clutched his wrist and tried to keep the pleas out of her eyes.  Keep calm, she thought.  No panic, no tears.  That will only infuriate him.

Impatient, he slung her on the floor.  She fell on her back, barely catching herself on her elbows to avoid smashing her skull open on the marble.  Panting, she concentrated on breathing.  With her skirts tumbled crazily, her silk stockings were bared to the room, but she made no move to cover herself.  Darius would enjoy humiliating her before the entire High Court with worse if she acted missish.  He’d done so, countless times already.  He knew very well how best to torment and punish without a single mark.

“I’m waiting.”

“Would it not be poetic justice for you to use her distant relatives to quell her rebellion?”

Darius stroked his chin and jaw.  “Perhaps.  The idea has merit, but only if the savages would consider such an alliance.  From the little we know of Keldar, they have no such inclinations.  They know only thieving and killing.”

Now to play her most important card, the one ace that might free her from beneath her brother’s boot heel: “They’ve shown an undue interest in Green Land women in the last few years, don’t you think?”

Eyes narrowed, he stared at her for several long moments before gesturing that she could rise and continue.

“We’ve lost two caravans to Keldari raiders in the past month, and both times they took the goods and Green Land women.  The men were either killed or ignored.  The merchant of the last caravan had a Mambian wife, and she was untouched.”

“Perhaps the savages have no taste for exotic women.”

“I can find out for you,” she said, trying to keep the eagerness out of her eyes.  “Once they capture me, I’ll bargain with their leader and win them to your cause.”

“You?” Darius turned away, hiding his face from her. He knew how well she read people. “I can’t spare you, Eleni.  I considered sending you to Princess Jenna instead to parley.”

“Humbly, Your Majesty, I suggest that might be a mistake. Do you want your greatest enemy to have your best eyes and ears? Why not use me, instead, to win a horde of savages you can loose on the rebels?”

He paced, silent and hard and grim. He valued her skills as a negotiator, but he was also possessive of her. Why, when he enjoyed beating and berating her for the simple pleasure of seeing her broken yet again?

“I can’t lose you, Eleni.”

Despite all the years of torture and abuse, her heart still warmed.  He was her only family left in this entire world.  He’d done horrible things, and forced her to join him time after time.  Yet he was her brother, and she loved him.

“Before Father died, he told me that he’d dreamed I would seize the High Throne and legitimize his royal blood.  The key to my success was you, dearest sister.  As long as you were by my side, I would hold Shanhasson.  But if I lost you...”

Darius threw himself onto the High Throne and buried his face in his hands.  Stunned, Eleni went to him and hesitantly laid her hand on his head.  She’d never seen such vulnerability from her brother.

“He told me I would be better off to cut your heart out of your chest before ever letting you out of my sight.”

Her hand froze.  Horror churned her stomach, burning up into her throat.  She could well picture their father telling young Darius such a thing.  Their family had long been tormented by nightmares, darkness, and taint through their bloodline.  Touched by Shadow, they wrought evil in the world without premeditation simply by breathing.  Since their grandfather had raped his own High Queen all those years ago, her family’s existence was a testament to the evil done in the world by men’s hands.

Ignoring the terror screaming through her body, she forced her fingers back to his hair.  She stroked him like a little boy and deliberately lightened her voice.  “I’m never out of your sight, Your Majesty, not when you haunt my dreams every night.”

“True.” Darius raised his head, a smile quirking his sensual lips. His eyes were dark with madness, hurt, and death. Worst of all, though, was the mirth, the foul joy he found in such atrocities. He could kiss and pardon or murder with his own hand, and his eyes would never change. “I will walk in your dreams every night, dearest. I will know if you intend to betray me.”

He reached out and touched her neck with the steel blade of a knife she hadn’t even seen him draw. His voice lowered to a silky smooth seduction that prefaced his most horrific crimes. “I can kill without laying a single hand on you, Eleni.  But it would be much sweeter to hear your screams, taste your blood, and earn your agony with my own hands.  Do not fail me, dear sister, or I will leave my throne for that bitch, Jenna, who dares to challenge me and hunt you down in the darkest, farthest reaches of the world.”

Relief and terror warred in her heart. He would let her go, for now.

To win her freedom, her brother must die. She couldn’t do it herself, and the very people who would bring him to justice would rightfully execute her as well.  She had to win an ally for herself. She needed someone far from Shanhasson and strong enough to protect her from him, someone who could kill him.

Darius had chained her at his side her entire life with her love and duty. Now, before the darkness growing in her heart claimed the last bit of the hope, before he killed her with that love, she had to flee.

* * *

Zahak didn’t think much of the bedraggled munakura. Her once fancy clothes were stained and torn. Dust camouflaged her skin and hair so he could not confirm her coloring. “Are you certain she’s Green Land blood?”

The Far Illone trader rushed to assure him.  “Yes, yes, a Princess of the royal line, all the way from Shanhasson.”

Remarkable blue eyes glared back at him, bright and shining like moonlight in a midnight sky. Even with her wrists bound with rough hemp and surrounded by his warriors, she did indeed stand like a queen: white, small, and fragile like night-blooming jasmine.

Ah, the crucial question. Was she a true White?  If not, she was of no use to him. He would be better served to let the trader sell her to a slaver bound for Mambia.

An odd impulse banded his chest and clenched his jaw. Heat flared deep in the pit of his stomach, searing flames roaring to life. Instincts not his, not human, raged at him to seize the woman, drag her to the ground, and sink his teeth into her slender throat.

Tightening his concentration, Zahak breathed deeply, forcing down the dragon’s Fire. After a thousand years of punishment, the prophesies would be fulfilled. The Last Days were nigh. He would not fail his brother in this time of great need. Roughly, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Eleni.”

Her voice was soft and mellow but not afraid, a nightingale singing from the fragrant branches of desert jasmine. “What tribe? What family?”

“Eleni, daughter of Moran, bastard son of the High Queen Angelina, whose legitimate heirs were fathered by a Keldari named Jakon rav’Tellan”

Zahak blinked. His warriors murmured, the rustles of taamids loud in the desert stillness as scimitars were drawn. If she belonged to Tellan, they could expect fierce fighting long before they reached the Wall.

Hope blossomed in his heart. What chance that the woman he managed to find would claim the only tribe still carrying the rarest White’s holy blood?

“Surely a fine choice for the azi.”Malum trailed the tail of his supple whip through his fingers, nodding approvingly at the woman. “If you can keep her long enough. Are you sure you wish to hand such a treasure off to Amin?”

Tightening his mouth, Zahak refused to respond. No matter how many barbed hints his friend tried, he could not be baited into treachery.

“I cannot claim Tellan as my tribe,” the woman answered calmly. “They are merely my cousins. My grandfather was not Jakon.”

“Are you a Daughter?”

Emotion flickered across the woman’s face: pain, misery, failure. Ah, such emotions he knew intimately. “Yes and no.”

“Are you descended from your Blessed Lady, whom we call Somma, the White Dragon, She Who Hung the Moon?”

“Her blood runs in my veins, yes, but I have no power.”

Zahak knew not what she meant, and quite honestly, he didn’t care. The blood was enough. Switching to Keldari, he negotiated a price with the trader and jerked his head at Malum to pay the munakur off.

With a malicious grin, the trader shoved the woman to her knees before Zahak and rushed to his wagons, gold clinking.

Regal and silent, Eleni stared up at him.  Fear and tears he expected; the hope in her eyes bewildered him.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He leaned down to look deeply into her bright eyes. Her warm scent filled his nose, and his voice thickened with emotion he dared not admit. “You will mate my brother, Amin tal’Cobra, who will soon be azi’Keldar, He Who Leads all Keldari tribes.”

Some of the glow faded from her eyes like the moon sinking beneath a bank of fog. “I see. And if I don’t choose to mate this tal?”

Clenching his jaw, Zahak sat up and hardened his voice. “I’ll feed you to Agni, the Red Dragon, and hope your blood purchases forgiveness for our ancient sin.”

Even more unexpected was her laughter. Although mirthless and ragged, there were no tears, not from this strange, regal woman. Perhaps she had lost her mind. If so, she wouldn’t survive the long ride to the Wall, let alone life on the desert, no matter how carefully his brother tended to her.

“Why do you laugh, woman?  You should beg for protection.”

Solemn once more, she tilted her head, studying him. What did she see, this fine Green Land lady? A savage, a bandit, a jackal?  So he had been called, rightfully, and worse yet had he done as his brother’s saif.

“It seems I have escaped one pit of hell merely to land in another.”

At last, something he understood. He allowed a small smile to soften his face.  “Keldar is a hard land and a hard life. No rain has fallen in a thousand years, save when a White was sacrificed years ago, and we suffer the endless heat of Agni for our sins. Iyeh, I know hell very well.”

TWO

Everything had gone perfectly according to plan.  So why had Eleni never been more afraid in her life?

She wasn't afraid of this savage warrior.  No, she feared herself, her own reactions, her sudden wish to discard her carefully laid plans.

With bronzed skin and dark glittering eyes, he was certainly fearsome.  Black and red tattoos on cheeks framed by black hair cropped to his shoulders gave him an exotic appeal.  He was swathed head to toe in black cloth, his chest crossed with leather straps holding various weapons.  A wicked, curved blade hung on his hip.

Grim yet not cruel, not like she expected, he drew the scimitar and held it out to her. She’d seen the money exchange hands. Quite a sum, she guessed, although she couldn’t understand the fluid language of the desert at all. So why would he risk freeing her?

Eleni prided herself on her ability to read people. At Shanhasson, she’d watched the nobles constantly, searching for any sign of betrayal, uncertainty, or revenge. Numerous times she’d given Darius information to quell a rebellion long before the instigators could gain support. This grim warrior offering his blade, however, was completely unreadable. Trying to study him without being obvious, she reached out and sliced the ropes off her wrists.

The Keldari savage frowned at the red marks dug into her flesh and made some brisk order to the man at his shoulder. “Forgive me, woman. I’ll spare you what suffering I can.” His mouth twisted bitterly and he shoved the scimitar back into its loop on his belt. “The ride will be difficult and I have little water to spare, but I will make this as easy as possible for you.”

In her mind, she saw death hanging about him like wisps of nightmare. He hadn’t been jesting when he’d said he would feed her to a dragon if she refused his brother. Blessed Lady above, is that what the Keldari did with all the poor women taken from the caravans?

Shuddering, she pushed the thought of rending teeth and slashing claws from her mind.  She dug into the coarse bag at her feet.  She’d been thorough in her research.  The Palace Archive had meager details, but what it recorded held some very interesting traditions.

Lady help her, she never intended to return to the Green Lands, at least not alive.  She would slit her own throat before returning to Darius.  Death by the Keldari’s dragon was a better end if she failed.

Eleni drew out a leather flask of water and laid it on the ground before her.  “My water is yours.”

The savages muttered uneasily, while their leader stared back at her, his face closed, his dark eyes shuttered and devoid of emotion.  Such weight in his gaze, she could almost feel her life hanging in the balance.  Had she made a dreadful mistake?

Finally, he picked up the flask and took a measured sip of water.  “I’m Zahak saif’Cobra.  My tent is yours, Eleni.”  A faint crinkle about his eyes and mouth hinted at a smile as he helped her rise.  “Come share water in my shade.”

Knees shaking beneath her gown, Eleni neared the tent he indicated.  As she ducked down to enter, she noted the material of the tent walls.  She’d assumed it was some kind of fur or coarse cloth, but it appeared to be leather.  Teardrop markings were stamped into the heavy hide, mostly black but spotted here and there with red.

Dragon hide.

Suppressing a shiver, she ducked to enter and stepped aside to allow him to move past her.  Uneasy, she watched him, trying to control her reactions no matter what he did in the privacy of his tent.  He vibrated with menace when he chose, but he didn’t have that dark edge of cruelty that her brother wielded so terrifyingly well.  Something deep in the pit of her stomach stirred when she looked at the Keldari.  It wasn’t fear, exactly.  Fascination, perhaps?

Sighing softly, she forced herself to admit the truth.  She found him very intriguing, even attractive, much more than she expected.  Darius had sent her to plenty of beds over the years, but she wouldn’t mind sharing this Keldari’s at all.  If Zahak’s brother was half as appealing, then she had nothing to worry about, but despite such rationalities, she couldn’t suppress the twinge of disappointment that he had not bought her for himself.

He moved silently about his tent gathering various implements and then returned to sit cross-legged on a cushion.  Gesturing before him at the low table, he invited her to sit.  His face was closed and hard.  She had no idea what he was thinking.  Uncertain, she sat before him and placed the flask on the low table between them.

He poured a small amount of water into a clay teapot and spooned in some dark leaves and sticks.  The unusual tea hit the water and released a rich, spicy aroma into the air.  Her nose and throat burned as the tea steeped without fire or heat.

Into a small bowl, he poured another measured amount of her water.  He took a square of cotton, dabbed it into the water, and lightly pressed it to his lips, forehead, and heart.  “May Somma’s waters cleanse us of our devalki.”

Meticulously, he washed his hands and face with the little cloth.  Suddenly, she realized how precious water truly was to the Keldari.  She thought of the hot springs beneath the Palace and the many long baths she’d taken in the months since Darius had ascended the High Throne.  She’d been completely immersed in steaming hot water, while these people used less than a thimble full.  Her eyes filled with moisture, whether with sympathy or fumes from the tea she could not be sure.

“You’re surprised.”

At his voice, she twitched before she could control her reaction.  Smoothing her face, she met his fathomless gaze.  “I was merely thinking how strange you would find our baths in the Green Lands.”

She swore flames flickered in the dark depths of his eyes.  “This is not a true Keldari bath.  Perhaps...”  Muttering beneath his breath, he turned his attention to the tea.  A curse?  “Cleanse your hands and face, azharana.”

She did as he demonstrated, taking care to treasure the fluid and use very little to actually wash away the grime of travel.  As soon as she finished, he poured tea into a cup.  Thick and black, it looked more like tar than any tea she’d ever drunk before.  Her nose itched, and she feared she might sneeze at the burning spice.  He took a sip, turned the cup in his hands, and held it out to her.

Stomach fluttering, she took the small cup he offered.  His eyes held hers, gleaming in the meager light of the tent.  A challenge?  Why?  Cursing the lack of Keldari documentation, she lifted the cup to her mouth, hesitating at the sudden intensity of his gaze.

Steeling herself, she took a small sip.  Her throat convulsed, blazing with heat, but she got it down.  Heat spread in her stomach, burning just shy of pain.  Eyes watering, she fought not to shudder or make any facial movement.

Nodding with approval, he smiled slightly.  “Fire Tea feeds the Fire within, if it doesn’t kill you.  So, tell me how you came to be captured by the trader, azharana.”

Warmth flowed through her veins, relaxing muscles she hadn’t even known were tense.  What exactly did they put in that tea?  She probably didn’t want to know.  Staring into his chiseled face of weathered granite, she felt her eyelids getting heavy.  How long had it been since she’d slept more than a light, restless doze?  “Azharana—what does that mean?”

“Bright eyes.”  His voice lowered, husky and soft.  “Your eyes glow like the silvered moon on water.  You’re a White indeed.”

Sitting up straighter, she fought to retain her alertness despite the weariness suffusing her limbs.  Any mistake could get her killed.  Did she dare tell him the truth?  That she’d planned her capture and subsequent “sale” down to the last detail?  That she carried Our Blessed Lady’s blood, yes, but she was also corrupted by Shadow?

Her eyes were heavy.  She was so tired.  She needed to rest, just for awhile.

Confusion and terror flickered across her face before she could suppress it.  Darius waited in nightmares.  He would know everything.  “Did you drug me?”

“Everyone reacts to the tea differently, especially the first time.  You must be weary after your journey.  You may sleep without fear in my tent.  None shall harm you here.”  Zahak’s face softened slightly, his head tilting as he watched her.  “You are a treasure indeed.”  His face flinched so quickly she was sure she imagined it.  “For my brother.”

“No sleep.”  Even to her ears, her voice sounded thick and heavy.  “I can’t.  Please, don’t let me fall asleep.”

As if in slow motion, she started to fall.  He stood and flowed to her, easily catching her as she collapsed.  His arms were hard yet gentle, holding her carefully as though she might break.  Had she ever known a man’s touch in gentleness?  She couldn’t remember.

“Ishtay, azharana,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.  The heat and spice of tea filled her nose again.  No, that was his skin, his neck against her face.  “You’re safe with me, bright eyes.”

No, there was no safety.  Nowhere in the world could she be safe, not while her brother lived.  The warmth inside her faded, swallowed by the Shadow bubbling up to suck her down to oblivion.

* * *

She walked on blood-red sands swept across a blasted land riddled with ravines.  A full moon blazed down in the velvet sky, lighting the strange landscape.  Ahead, a twisted black Spire pierced the sky.  She wanted to run as far away from that Spire as possible, but it sucked her ever closer, her feet heavy and dragging through the sand.

Something in her blood stirred at the sight of that dull-black rock, like worms wriggling in a corpse.

At that thought, Darius appeared, walking across the cracked ground as though he were emperor of the world.  She waited for the familiar flood of adrenaline, the rushing of blood in her ears, the vicious clenching of her stomach.  Yet all she felt was a spreading warmth in her veins.

Tea.  Fire Tea.

Keldar is a hard land.

She remembered Zahak, the feel of his arms sliding around her as she fell.  The raw silk scent of his skin, dust and spice and sweat and man.  He’d lived hard years of suffering and warfare, of drought and blazing sun, without ever attaining cruelty or malice in his eyes.

A dry, hot wind lifted her hair, swirling strands into her face.  She tasted something foul on her tongue, dry and powdery like desiccated corpses.  A faint whiff of death tainted the wind, which grew ever stronger, darker, until it crawled through the air like shadowed fog.

Suddenly, she realized the wind and the stench of rotting flesh came from her brother.  He was miles away in this dreamscape, yet she saw his face clearly.  The cruel gleam in his eyes sliced her mind into ribbons.

“What a strange place you’ve brought me to, dearest.  But I like it.  I like it a great deal.  In some ways…”  Standing in the shadow of the Spire, he sighed, a deep rumble vibrating the ground like thunder.  “I feel like I’ve come home.”

Closing his eyes, he stretched out his hands.  One palm caressed the dull black stone of the Spire.  The other reached toward her.  Smoke exploded from his palm, thick and blacker than the night.

Fire blazed higher in her stomach.  Every instinct clamored that she should run.  If that foul smoke found her, she would never be the same again.  She would never wake again.  The moon disappeared, swallowed by the tar spewing from the spire and Darius.

Death and shadows were everywhere, stretching out across the sands.

Despite her fear, she found herself standing beside him, gagging at the rotten stench filling her nose.  Her ears hurt from some silent agonized scream shrilling just beyond hearing.  The Spire was evil, Shadow, she knew it, as surely as she knew Darius reveled in the sense of pain and suffering in this place.

“What do you know?  Have you won the allies we seek?”

She swallowed, steeling herself to lie—or at least to omit as much as possible.  Every fact she kept secret was another weapon to use to protect herself.  “A Keldari warrior bought me from the trader.”

“What does he want with you?”

Her heart thudded in her chest, sweat trickling down her back despite the goose bumps crawling down her arms.  “I don’t know yet.  He—”

Casually, Darius dropped his hand onto her shoulder, and she tensed, waiting for the pain.  Pain always came when he touched her.  Revulsion slithered through her, her heart slamming against her ribs, trying to escape the cage of her body.  The taint in him was stronger than ever, a thick black slime that oozed from his skin.

His eyes were swallowed with Shadow.  Smiling, he tightened his grip, his thumb pressing painfully against her collar bone until she feared it would break.  She hated this numbing terror that blanketed her mind.  She hated the useless sense of duty she still felt for him after all these years.  How often would he hurt her before she realized he cared nothing for her?

“You will do exactly as he orders.  If he wants to bed you, you will do so as enthusiastically as you went to the Duke’s bed last fall.”

A blazing inferno burned inside her, bubbling up like a volcano.  Surely the Spire must be affecting her, too, tainting her, corrupting her emotions.  Yet the fire felt good, right, a fierce beacon in the night that blazed in her heart.  She had no idea where such courage had come from, such defiance, but she embraced it.

Darius held her close, leaning down to sneer in her face.  So she planted her fist square on his nose.

With a roar, he flung her sailing backward through the air.  Fire roared higher, wrapping around her, carrying her away into the night sky.  Distantly, she heard her brother scream, but flames engulfed her.  Hungry, searing fire burned her to a crisp.

I don’t care.

Fire obliterated the world.

* * *

Jerking awake, Eleni clawed at the blackness stifling her.

“Ishtay, azharana.  You’re safe.”

She lay in the Keldari’s arms, in his tent, his bed such that it was, a simple pallet on the ground.

She pulled back, untangling herself from his arms.  He let her go immediately.  Aching loneliness swamped her, but still she put a safe distance between them.  She could smell him, fire and spice.

Heart pounding heavy and sore in her chest, she whispered, “There is no safety. Not for me.”

He shifted beside her and she closed her eyes, drinking in the sound of his breathing, his rich scent.  A silent, deadly battle raged in him.  “I will keep you safe, even from myself.”

Oh, dear.  He felt the attraction as well.  This was certainly a complication neither of them needed.  She needed sanctuary, and the supreme leader of Keldar was the perfect one to beg for help.  Zahak, too, had other plans, other obligations.  She fully understood his loyalty to his brother.

Meanwhile, Darius would hunt her every time she closed her eyes.

She rolled on her side and wrapped her arms around her knees tight to her chest.  Remembering Zahak’s gentle hands, the warmth in his eyes, she ignored the ache in her heart.  “I understand.”

“I wish...”  His voice was rough, ragged in the darkness, but he made no move to close the distance between them.

“I know.”  She let a tear slide down her cheek since he could not see her face.  “That’s more than anyone else has ever given me.”

THREE

“Drink as sparingly as possible,” Zahak told her, lashing her flask on the saddle which was little more than a mat of leather molded to the horse’s back.  “We’ll ride fast and hard, with no breaks, until the heat forces us to stop.  We’ll rest during the worst of the day, but we’ll ride another few hours at dusk.”

Eleni stared doubtfully at the horse he’d saddled for her.  Shaggy, knobby kneed, and ugly, it glared at her and snorted derisively.  With its long spindly neck, scrawny legs, and oddly pointed snout, it looked more beast than horse. In fact, if it had wings and scales, it could almost be a dragon, at least from sketches she’d seen in the Palace Archives.

In a sing-song chant that sounded lovely to her ears, he talked to the horse in his language.  The animal calmed beneath his hands and allowed her near enough to mount.  She’d ridden all the way from Shanhasson without problems, but the pace he promised, combined with the coming heat of the day, threatened to tax her beyond her limits.  It was still dark, almost chilly in the hour before dawn, but she knew as soon as the sun started its climb, she’d pay dearly in sweat and exhaustion.

“Stay in the saddle,azharana, and the mare will do the rest.”

Clutching at the stringy mane, her hands felt awkward and useless without reins to hold.  “How do I guide her?”

Zahak swung up on his own shaggy horse colored the same indiscriminant shade of red-brown dust.  Without looking back, he clucked and his mount immediately moved into a hard trot.  Hers leaped after him, the pace jarring her teeth.  “You don’t.  I’m her master, and she will follow me wherever I go.”

At first, the Keldari talked companionably, but as the sun rose in the sky and the heat increased, so did the silence.  One hour into the bone-splintering ride, Eleni had to consciously work to keep the grimace of pain off her face.  After another hour, she didn’t care who saw how much she hurt.  Every bone in her body ached, and some joints felt permanently jarred out of place, while the heat worsened every passing moment.

Suffocated in the black cape swathing her from head to foot, she quickly dampened the linen shirt and pants he’d given to her.  As the cruel sun broiled every living thing, her body dried up.  Her skin withered and cracked; her eyes felt cooked in her skull, hot and swollen and tender.  Thanks to the miserably hot cloak, at least she didn’t sunburn.

Raising the flask to sandpaper lips, she licked the last drop carefully from the limp leather.  No more water, and it wasn’t even time to rest yet for the worst of the heat.  She felt feverish, her eyes bright and hot.

The desert floor disappeared in shimmering waves.  The merciless sun hammered down on the riders, yet they never eased the punishing pace.  Torture at Darius’s hands in the dungeon began to sound less dreadful.  At least it was dark and cool in the depths beneath the Palace.

Hands settled on her.  Blinking stupidly, she looked down into Zahak’s weathered face.  His black eyes gleamed with sympathy.  He didn’t say anything as he lifted her down, but he didn’t set her on her feet.  One look at her, and he knew how badly she fared.  She doubted she could even stand.

Blessed Lady, he must think me a worthless waste to be so helpless and weak.

* * *

Zahak carried her into the shade of the lean-to created by partially raising his tent.  He was tempted to take the time and request a full raising so she could rest in privacy and complete shade, but time worked against him.  Every moment they rested, she’d have to wait for water; conversely, every moment in the saddle was another drain on her fragile reserves.

A White would do them no good if she died before they could present her to the tribes.  Yet his brother, his tribe, even all of Keldar, paled in comparison to the lines of exhaustion on her face and the curious ache in his heart each time he looked at her.

“How did you come here?”  To me, he added silently.  He hated making her talk in the midst of her suffering, but he had questions that must be answered.  Her arrival in Keldar could not be mere chance.  “Were you betrayed?”

She cracked an eye open.  Her tongue flicked out to moisten her dry lips, and his belly clenched.  A flood of Fire washed through him, fierce and overwhelming, leaving him shaken.  Too much emotion.  Too much Fire.  The dreaded Last Days could not come quickly enough, before he loosed this beast on the world, on her.

“Truth?”  Her voice was ragged and hoarse.

Silently, he nodded, staring into her eyes, bright as the full moon shining on a dark pool of water, if any such pool existed in the midst of these poisoned sands.

“Allies.”

He frowned, every instinct sharpening, honing on her words.  Any threat to the tal was his grim responsibility as saif to eliminate.  “With the Keldari?”

She toyed with the hem of the taamid she wore.  “My brother.”  She swallowed, wincing at the pain in her throat.  “Darius is High King of the Green Lands.  He sent me to find allies.”

“You came to the wrong tribe, then.  Your King wants Tellan, not us.”  Despite the blood ties she shared with Tellan, they would surely sacrifice her once they learned she was White. After all, that’s how they’d gained the Well of Tears.  With such a wealth of untainted water, they found themselves the recipients of jealous warfare from all other tribes.

Senses wary and alert, he strained to hear any threat or attack.  He must protect her. For Amin. Not because of the constriction in his throat at the thought of her death.

“No,” she whispered, her voice so painful his heart clenched again.  “Tellan would kill us all if they knew why Darius needs them.  Their true kin are his—our—enemies.”

“You know nothing about the Keldari,” he replied flatly, shaking his head.  “We have a saying here in the desert. My brother is my enemy unless my cousin threatens; the tribes are my enemy unless one not Keldari threatens. We would never unite with munakuri, foreigners like your brother.”

“I’m glad.” The fierce glint in her eyes surprised him. “And your brother is very formidable? He’ll protect me from Darius, even if he sends soldiers after me? Even though I’m a foreigner not of your blood, he’ll still want me?”

Heat banded Zahak’s chest, tightening every muscle in his body. How could Amin not want her? “He’s tal’Cobra, so our entire tribe will die to keep you safe.”  Some argued he was not hard enough, especially Malum, but then that’s why Zahak was saif. He was hard enough for them both. “Where most of us tend to violence and ferocity, my brother is known for his gentle nature and wisdom.”

She averted her face, her fingers clutching at the taamid. “Wisdom will not stop my brother.”

Zahak gently turned her face back to him. Her eyes darkened with fear, and something else. She dropped her gaze to his mouth, and every muscle in his body tightened with agony.

Sands, how he wanted her. Staring at her small body, the dark circles of exhaustion on her face, the dried sweat and caked dirt on her delicate face, he tried to imagine loosing the Fire he constantly battled. He imagined letting his beast rise beneath his skin until he bit her savagely to put his mark upon her, crushing her beneath him, ravaging her, while Fire seared them both.

Heart pounding in his chest, he rose unsteadily and turned away from such temptation. Amin would be safer for her, less violent. His scimitar wasn’t stained with blood, his heart even blacker, while Fire ate away at him day by day, not like his enforcer and dra’gwar brother.  Reflexively, Zahak touched his cropped hair, a constant reminder of his grief and dishonor.  “I’m saif, enforcer. I do whatever is necessary to quell the tribe. Trust me, Eleni. You want my brother.”

“Dreams,” she whispered hoarsely. “Darius will kill me in a dream, and he won’t even have to touch me.”

“If Amin can’t protect you, I shall.”

“How? How can you stop a dream?”

He paused at the tent pole. Turning his head, he allowed all the death and violence he’d wrought to twist his face and darken his eyes to match his soul.  “You are a treasure greater than water, and I shall protect you or die.”

* * *

Hours later, Zahak slowed his mount to fall back beside Eleni. How she remained in the saddle, he didn’t know. His own head ached with the heat, his thirst a torment. The Keldari had been born to a land without fresh water and knew the endless suffering of thirst: no rain, no rivers, no lakes. Poisoned sands leached into the few precious Wells until the water was deadly to drink.

Yet drink they must. Everyone died sooner or later.

“Ride with me, azharana.”

Wordlessly, she shook her head. She hunched over the horse’s neck, forehead against the sweaty animal, her hands fisted in the mane so tightly her fingers were white.

Slipping his fingers beneath her chin, he raised her upright so he could better assess her condition. Her eyes were glassy with fever, her lips cracked and blackened.

“No one expects you to ride alone, azharana, least of all me.” He regretted the tenderness filling his heart. Why could he not sling her over his lap and ignore her pride, the flash of emotion in her eyes, the elegance in her slim body? “For your blood alone we will protect you.”

“Must ride.Less than child.”

Surprise flickered through him. She truly knew more about his culture than he’d expected. Certainly no other munakura would have taken the trouble to learn that all Keldari rode their mounts. To fall off was to die. Only a very young child might be carried. Everyone else who couldn’t ride when a tribe moved was simply left behind.

It was natural selection at its cruelest necessity.

“It’s several hours, yet, before we reach a Well. You can’t make it so far.”

Her chin quivered, her eyes huge with pain and desperation. “Must.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

Pride flashed in her eyes. “I would be worthy of the azi.”

“Iyeh,” he whispered, his mouth quirking. His heart warmed with admiration for this fiercely proud woman. “You will ride alone.”

His admiration grew by the hour. Silent and uncomplaining, she endured despite the heat and pain from the punishing ride.

“She dies,” Malum said as he rode alongside. “You let her die for naught.”

“Her pride—”

“Forget pride. She is a White, the only White we are likely to find in time for the ascension. See to her, or I shall.”

“Touch her and die.” Zahak didn’t need to unsheathe a weapon; the flat, emotionless tone of his voice checked his friend.

Malum inclined his head and held his hand up, palm out, fingers spread. “As you will, saif, but your brother will surely kill you if you fail in this duty.”

“We both know that is untrue.” Laughing grimly, Zahak untied the pack at his knee and sorted through the meager items. He didn’t like it, but Malum was right.  If he did nothing, she’d die before they reached the Well. “Amin wouldn’t kill a lawbreaker, yet alone me.”

“And this is why I say you should fight for azi, not Amin.” Malum didn’t meet his gaze and kept his hands well away from his weapons. They’d had this argument too many times to count. “Keep her for yourself, Zahak, and none will stand against you.”

Grimly, he crushed the spark of hope and joy that flared in his heart. “I owe Amin everything. He’s tal. He’ll be azi, if I must die to make it so.”

Though it broke his heart, he would deliver Eleni and ride away without another glimpse of her bright eyes.

Zahak owned little, didn’t care for possessions, and had no sepah of his own to supply. Yet one thing any Keldari warrior—dra’gwar or no—carried at all times in the desert: Dragon Piss. When water was so scarce, one sometimes found himself far from a Well, without hope, and Dragon Piss was the brutal answer. A powerful, foul stimulant, it was only taken in emergencies, when death would result otherwise, for it was as likely to kill as exposure, thirst or a feral dragon.  The thought of forcing it down her throat made the beast within him snarl and gnash its teeth with rage.

“You have no choice.” Malum slapped him on the shoulder in sympathy. “We have no water left, and the nearest Well is still an hour or more away and not ours. We’ll have to fight for it.  She may still die.”

“Not her.”  Zahak guided his horse closer and fisted his left hand at the back of her head, gathering material and hair to pull her face up.  She barely made a sound, and her eyes were dangerously hollowed and dry.  “Forgive me, azharana.”

When she opened her mouth to ask why, he glimpsed her swollen tongue as he forced the vial deep into her mouth.  The liquid hit her flesh and her eyes flew open wider.  Shuddering, she fought and mewled weakly, a sound that nigh tore his heart to shreds.  He knew the brutal power flaring to life in her body.  A thousand times worse than Fire Tea, the stimulant would make even him writhe on the ground and curse the sands.

“What was that?”  Her voice was still hoarse, but her eyes were alert and she pushed his hand away.

“Dragon Piss.”

She closed her eyes and convulsed.  “Not really…  You wouldn’t…”

Chuckling, Zahak shook his head.  “It’s made from various plants and several dragon ingredients, but not actually piss.  We call it that because it’s so vile.”  Sobering, he cupped her cheek in his palm and let his pride for her warm his eyes.  “Now, azharana, we must ride harder than ever.  The stimulant has given you energy your body needs, but it will push you to your death if we don’t hurry to water.  Can you ride hard and fast?”

Was it his imagination, or did she rub her cheek gently against his palm?  “I can do it.”

He whispered to the horses and both mounts leaped ahead at a ground-eating canter.

Her face smoothed with the gentler gait.  “How long can they sustain this speed?”

“An hour, perhaps.  Long enough to reach the next Well.”

“They might be ugly horses, but I’ve never seen such endurance.”

Concentrating on the upcoming battle, Zahak didn’t respond.  The Asps were supposedly one of the friendlier tribes, meaning they wouldn’t try to kill his warriors immediately.  The other tribe would not willingly give up water, especially when they saw the treasure such water would save.

Amin with a White would be unbeatable, and of course, all tribes believed their own tal should lead them all as azi.

* * *

“Stay here.”

Eleni blinked, trying to focus on Zahak.  He said something quickly to one of his men in their language, and then signaled his horse to trot down the dune.  In the darkness, she couldn’t see where he rode, but when battle engaged, she could clearly hear the shouts and the clang of metal.

Shivering, she clutched his heavy cape tighter about her shoulders.  How could it be so cold after the blazing heat of the desert noon?  Her fingers and toes were already numb and ice inched up her arms and legs.  She was so stiff she could barely move.

She must also be hallucinating, because she thought she saw flames floating, no, flying down in the darkness.  Horrendous screams echoed in the night, and a roar shook the ground.

Squealing, her horse shied.  She tried to hold on, but her strength was gone.  Her body was sluggish, so terribly cold.  Slipping, she hung at the horse’s side, further spooking it, but she couldn’t let go of the mane.  She didn’t even feel her fingers.  She barely felt the kicking hooves.

The mare twisted, trying to shake her off.  Vicious teeth flashed in the night, the horse’s eye liquid and flaring red, reflecting the flames.  She had to find a way to calm the ugly beast.  She tried to remember the words Zahak had used.  She wasn’t its master, not like him, but maybe—

“Ishtay,” she whispered, her voice shaking.  The horse snorted, shaking its head, but it didn’t bite her.  “Ishtay, horse.  What’s your name?”

Lips peeled back from jagged teeth, but the horse no longer tried to stomp her into the sands.  An improvement.  She still dangled helpless against its shoulder, her arm aching and twisted awkwardly.

The beast snorted again.

Struggling to regain her feet, she launched into meaningless chatter.  “Are you even a horse?  Look at your head, and that nose.  You remind me of several nobles.  With that winning personality, you’re quite the harridan.”

The mare neighed louder, tossing her snout up.

Her legs shook, but Eleni pushed upright and took some of her weight off her straining arm.  “Oh, you like that?  Shall I call you Harridan?  Or Harry for short?”

Patting the horse’s neck, she carefully sought her hand tangled in the mane.  She couldn’t stop shivering, and her eyes didn’t want to focus.  Fingers closed over hers.  Slowly, she raised her gaze to the man Zahak had left with her.

Gripping both of her hands in one of his, he raised a blade.  Her eyes widened and her heart pounded so hard she feared she might faint.  Staring at him, she didn’t like the sense of brittleness she read in his eyes.  A push in the wrong direction, and this man would shatter.

“You calmed the mare,” the man said, slicing through the coarse mane.  “No munakura should have been able to do so.”

“It was nothing.”  She blinked, trying to focus on the stranger, to keep any threat in sight.  Supposedly Zahak trusted him, but her senses never lied.  “My brother is a beast compared to this poor animal.”

The sense of sharpness about the man grew into a cutting blade.  “I would like to see such a beast.”

Sucking in her breath, Eleni fought the darkness swallowing her.  Ice encased her heart and lungs, thickening the blood in her veins.  She crumpled to the ground.

The man leaned over her.  “How did you know to offer water?”

When she didn’t answer, he shook her hard enough her teeth slammed together.  Starbursts exploded in her head, but even if she’d wanted to, she didn’t think she could speak.

“Who sent you?  Why are you here?”

“Release her, Malum.”  Zahak’s voice was a low, raw rumble that strummed her spine.  “What have you done to her?”

He let her go and replied calmly.  “Nothing, saif.”

Limply, she fell back, too cold to shiver any longer.  The night sky disappeared, blocked by Zahak’s broad shoulders, but she couldn’t see his face.

“The vial weakened her.  She needs water.”

A familiar hand cupped her cheek, her forehead, pressed intently against her chest.  Was her sluggish heart even beating any longer?

Hands trembling, Zahak pulled her against him.  “She’s freezing.”

His body radiated blessed heat. She pressed her face against his neck, whimpering at the scalding heat against her icy flesh. He smelled stronger than usual, musk and sweat, blazing from the heat of the battle. Blood and death mingled in his scent, smells that normally clenched her stomach with dread because they meant that someone had died at her brother’s hand.

With Zahak, though, it enhanced his savagery.  He was strong, invincible, fierce.

If only he could be the one to protect her from Darius.

The other Keldari touched her forehead and grunted.  “Water alone won’t save her.  Your body heat will help, but you know what she needs.”

“Blood.”Zahak shuddered, his voice thickening even as his arms tightened about her. “Fire.”

Blood? She tried to sit up, to look into his eyes and implore him to not do this thing. Her poor weary heart tried to beat faster. Her brother had a taste for blood, but she did not.  She could not afford to be corrupted by such darkness.

She didn’t believe Zahak derived pleasure from hurting other people.  He didn’t feed on such pain like her brother.  So how could he expect to force her to taste his blood? Desperate, she tried to refuse, but could only croak.

His big hand cupped the back of her skull, while his other tugged at his clothing, jerking his shirt open.  He slid her face along his body.  She could smell the blood—metallic, thick, cloying—the scent of spice and dust and blazing sun.

Her mouth watered, horrifying her.  She wanted to taste his blood.  What other horrors would she commit?  Would she develop a taste for torture as well?  With one last desperate surge, she arched her back, pitching against him.

“Azharana,” he whispered. The tenderness in his voice would have brought tears to her eyes if she had any such moisture left in her body. “Do not fear my Fire.  I won’t give you much. Just enough.”

Her mouth met a wound in his upper shoulder and he shuddered.

Rich life, strength, and heat flared to life inside her at the taste. His fingers massaged the back of her neck, his powerful body straining against her, while his blood filled her mouth, slid down her throat, and burned.

Fire.

Heat grew in her stomach, flaring higher, flowing down her limbs until she could feel her fingers once more.  Immediately, she clutched his shoulders.  The world dwindled to him: his scent in her nose, his blood in her mouth, his body.  She soaked him in.  Thunder filled her ears, a steady beating that she suddenly realized was his heart and hers, beating in tandem.

Fingers slid down her cheek to gently tilt her face up to him.  “Enough, azharana.  Any more, and I won’t be able to refuse you all.”

She didn’t know exactly what he meant, but she didn’t care. Fire blazed in his dark eyes, brighter than the fireball sun of this miserable desert. Yet his hands were tender as he gathered her close and rose, carrying her down the hill.  Shadows were strewn about, bodies, tents hanging askew on broken poles. Her chest constricted as the truth dawned on her.

He’d led his warriors down here. He was wounded. “You, you killed them, didn’t you?  Why?”

“You needed water.” Zahak shrugged. “They had the closest Well.”

She closed her eyes, dumbfounded, horrified, and reluctantly, she had to admit, moved. He’d killed his own people for her, casually and efficiently.

“Don’t feel guilt for them, azharana.” His voice sharpened to vicious steel.  “They could have offered hospitality but refused. Keldar is a hard land, a hard life, and water is all. We’ve killed each other over water for centuries. This time, I killed for you.”

Weary yet glowing with that inner heat, she buried her face against his chest and breathed him in. No matter the savagery, thirst, and punishing heat, as long as he held her, she was content to stay in his desert forever.

FOUR

In the privacy of his tent, Zahak closed his eyes and drew the woman in his arms close to his body.  He let himself imagine just for a moment what she might taste like if he pressed his mouth to hers, if he kissed the hollow of her throat, licked a path to her shoulder, and put his mark in her flesh.

No, no, this cannot be.  She’s for Amin.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to lay her down on the rug.  He drew the now bulging skin of water close and poured a cup and bowl full.  No sparing for her, now. They had a Well, purchased with blood and Fire, and he was going to give her every drop if necessary.

He helped her lift her head and placed the cup to her lips still smeared with his blood. She drank every drop. Dampening a cloth, he carefully wiped her face, instead of licking his blood from her skin as he wished.

“I saw flames in the sky.” The painful croak of her voice clutched his heart in talons. She reached out and laid her fingers against his forearm, and the longing of his heart stole his breath. “Did you fight a dragon?”

“Do you know what dra’gwar means?”

Her fingers tightened on his arm, her eyes searching his. “Dragon warrior. You fight dragons, right?”

“It means that I have a dragon inside me,” he said lightly, keeping his manner unconcerned. He moved to her neck, cleaning away the droplets of his blood. She inhaled sharply, her fingers clutching him harder, but she didn’t flinch away. “Do you doubt it after feeling my Fire?”

“Not all blood is so…fiery?”

Fierce possession filled him, and he smiled, hard and grim. She’d never tasted another, and his beast liked that thought very much indeed. “Only a dra’gwar’s blood burns. Someday, the Fire within will consume me utterly.”

“And you’ll become a dragon.” She didn’t ask, but he nodded anyway. “Are there very many of your kind?”

“One thing you must know about Keldar.” He allowed the vicious voice of saif, the doer of dirty deeds, to flatten and chill his voice. “We kill each other faster than any are born, and dra’gwar kill faster than any other. Do not fear, though.  Amin is not dra’gwar.”

“Keldar is a hard land,” she whispered solemnly, her hand still on his arm.  Her eyes seared him, sparking with the Fire of his blood. “Must everything be so very hard?”

He refused to consider the delightful softness of her body, the silk of her hair, her tender flesh and the rich, sweet blood beneath.

He tried to draw back, but her delicate fingers clung to him, forcing him to meet her gaze. And then, Somma help him, he was lost.  Eleni’s glorious eyes blazed brighter than ever, filled with his Fire.

Many a Keldari woman had died wreathed in flames, screaming at the touch of a dra’gwar’s blood. But her eyes merely glowed. His blood was in her, a bond she would never be able to break. No matter whether his brother treasured her or not, she would always have access to Zahak’s heart and soul.

Unfortunately, he liked that thought a great deal. His dragon stretched its wings inside him, rumbling with pleasure and growing hunger.

Her eyes darkened, burning hotter. “Just don’t let me fall asleep.”

“Your brother?”

She nodded jerkily, some of the flame dying in her eyes. “I defied him, and he’ll kill me as he promised. He’ll hunt me in my dreams, no matter where I go.”

Despising the fear in her eyes, he retrieved a small flask of oil and uncorked it.  A distinctive musk of dragon and sweet jasmine filled the tent. “You can’t deny your body sleep forever.”

“I can’t sleep until I find a way to stop him.” Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head, a smile curving her lips. “I smell sweet flowers, surely an unusual scent for such a fearsome warrior.”

“None will challenge me for fear I’ll make them wear my jasmine oil.”  He laughed with her, but the smile did not ease his heart.  The warriors of Cobra feared him and rightfully so. “My brother is very wise, consulting often with our priests to lead the tribe, but we Keldari are not known for following our tal for love. They need a warrior they fear, harsh and strong enough to kill.”

“That is you.” Instead of horror or recrimination in her eyes, he saw sympathy. His heart stuttered, aching.  “My poor Zahak.”

The sound of his name on her lips made his hands shake. He poured oil into his palm and gently dabbed her dry, cracked lips and face. “In a land of burning sands and thirst, this oil will help soften your skin and protect you on the morrow from the sun, at a price.”

He paused, waiting for her to feel the effects. A tremor shook her body and her eyes widened, flaring with rising flames. “It burns.”

Nodding slowly, he allowed his mouth to quirk with amusement. “Everything burns in the desert.  Tell me if it becomes too painful.”

Gently, he rubbed the oil into her skin, easing away traces of the punishing ride, her suffering in the heat.  Her skin glistened, softening, and a moan escaped her lips. He trailed oil down her neck, massaging the slender column, the curves of her shoulders beneath the shirt he’d given her. Arching her head back, she offered her throat, and it was all he could do to keep from planting his teeth in her skin.

Then he noticed the bruises on her shoulder. Fingerprints.  Flames boiled to life in him, crisping his heart and skin. “Who did this?”

“My brother.  I told you, he can hurt me in dreams.  He can kill me.  That’s why I must not sleep.”

He closed his eyes, breathing hard and noisily as he concentrated on calming his rage. Volatile emotions stirred the dragon to life, he knew, but this was very bad. The beast raged to protect its mate.

His heart stuttered, his chest banding with flames.  The dragon was closer than ever to escaping his control after all these years. “He hurt you before this dream.”

“Yes,” she whispered, averting her face with shame. “Many times.”

Wings beat furiously, drumming against his ribs until he feared the beast truly would slip from his skin. Breathing hard, he tried to remember she belonged to another.

If his eyes had not been squeezed shut so tightly, perhaps he could have prevented her from doing the unthinkable.

* * *

He was so close, his face hard, teeth clenched, nostrils flaring with each breath. He was magnificent and fierce, so strong and protective. Eleni couldn’t help her herself.

Leaning up, she pressed her mouth to his.

His lips softened with surprise, allowing her the barest taste of dusky spice.  She dipped her tongue deeper, hungry for a taste of him.

Flames boiled up in his mouth and slammed into her.

Blessed Lady above, she couldn’t breathe.  Burned to ash, bones exploding in agony, she swallowed convulsively. Fire blazed down her throat, swelling her heart, sliding through her veins like molten lava.

Zahakgrowled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine even while she burned up with his Fire. Clamping one hand on her shoulder, his other in her hair, he hauled her against him. Mouth wide and slanted over hers, he twined his tongue around hers and poured into her: fire, hunger, heartache, loneliness so acute she cried out for him. And he poured tenderness, the heart-rending softness he denied himself as the grim enforcer for his tribe.

:Bright eyes:.

His voice echoed in her mind, and flames licked inside her.

Without losing his mouth, she climbed into his lap and cupped his chiseled face between her palms.  Sweat dripped in her eyes and her skin felt blackened and tight from his Fire, but she kissed him eagerly, trying to tell him without words what his tenderness meant to her.  His gentle touch despite the grim reality of his life and duty showed how he treasured her. No one had ever cared for her like this before.

Gasping for breath, he pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers. They sat together, sweaty and panting in the silence of the tent. She knew his thoughts, could almost hear his turmoil in her mind. She was supposed to go to his brother.  His brother needed her to win the position of azi. The end of the world was coming. Zahak believed all these things with every beat of his heart.

“My Fire should have killed you.” His voice was hushed and shaken.  Carefully, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip, sending wildfire through her body. “I never should have given you blood, let alone Fire.  I can’t—"

“I need you,” she whispered, trembling, against his mouth. “Please, Zahak, just for tonight.”

His fingers tightened in her hair, clutching her to his chest even while he shook his head jerkily. “I cannot, azharana. There is no ‘just tonight’ for me. I’m dra’gwar. You carry my blood, my Fire. If I give you my body as well, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll bind you to me heart and soul. And once you’re mine...”

She felt a wave of overwhelming fury from him that he couldn’t have his heart’s desire, that he had to choose between his heart and duty, his brother.

“If I take you like a dra’gwar mate, I’ll kill anybody who tries to take you from me.”  He thrust her away so hard she fell back on the rugs of the tent.  “Even Amin.”

Pacing back and forth, Zahak ran his hands through his hair.  Full of intense agony, he emanated so much energy the air sparked about him.  The taamid tangled about his legs, so he jerked it off and threw it to the ground.

Sweat dripped down his cheeks, rivulets running down his neck and chest.  Heat billowed in the confines of the tent, shadows unfurling like wings.

Her heart felt swollen and bruised.  She might have known him only a short time, but she already knew his heart, his duty, his strong beliefs in his Gods.  She respected such loyalty and honor.  The last thing she wanted to do was destroy him.

She was tainted, would always be stained with Shadowed blood.  Her family destroyed everything they touched.  Even while she yearned for him, she could see how she tore his heart in half.  Swallowing hard, she forced the tears and pain inside.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.  It won’t happen again.”

Zahak nodded, refusing to meet her gaze.  He stood at the exit, his hand stretched out to the leather, his back to her.  Yet he didn’t leave.  Silence stretched in the tent.  Her throat ached with the need to cry her sorrow in solitude, yet still, he waited.  Shoulders tense, straining, he fought his body.  He started to turn, his face twisted with grief and rage.

“Go,” she retorted, forcing sharpness to her voice. “Go before I ruin your life.  Lady damn you, go!”

Without another glance, he ducked beneath the flap. Shaking with the effort to control her sobs, Eleni picked up his discarded cloak. His scent rolled from the material, smoky spice with hints of jasmine oil. She wrapped it around her shoulders and curled into a ball on the floor of his tent.

* * *

The moon mocked him, gleaming in the barren sky like a false promise of hope.  Somma never forgot their devalki.  While Agni blasted Keldar with heat, She punished them by withholding all water.

Keldar died, while the Gods watched silent and unmoving in retribution.

His punishment continued as the only bright spot of hope in his entire life came to his tent, and kissed him, and begged...

Clenching his jaw to keep from roaring with fury, Zahak threw his head back and concentrated on breathing, not an easy feat when a dragon paced inside him, hissing and clawing his stomach, demanding his mate.

Sands of time, the Gods knew exactly how to punish him. Even now, he felt her temptation, the torment of her scent, the warmth of his Fire flowing in her veins. With every beat of his heart, he yearned to claim her.

“Saif...”

“Spar with me,” he ordered his friend in a voice raw and graveled to his own ears.

Without argument, Malum shrugged off his taamid and pulled his shirt over his head. “Scimitar, short, or whip?”

“All.  None.  Bare hands.”  Zahak jerked his shirt off and drew the wicked curved blade, the weapon he’d come to hate over the years. How many had he killed for Amin?  “I care not.”

“Very well.”

His friend’s voice was entirely too cheerful for Zahak’s foul mood. Grimly, he determined to wipe that amusement off his face. As soon as his friend drew blade, he swung at Malum’s head. Malum countered easily and steel rang in the night.  For a few blessed moments, Zahak was able to lose himself in battle, in the smooth flow of strike and parry, duck and slide, lunge and whirl.

“Why don’t you take her?”

“You know why!” Wincing, Zahak lowered his voice. Shouting did no good.  Weeping wouldn’t help either. The long line of blood trailing down his friend’s chest did help a little, though. “She’s not mine to take.”

“She could be.” Malum caught his scimitar on the shorter blade and whirled aside, twisting the curved blade so high Zahak almost lost his grip. “You blame yourself needlessly.”

Gritting his teeth, Zahak growled. “You know nothing.” Each word rang with another blow of his blade.

“I know you blame yourself for failing to protect your mother. I know you hold yourself as less than your brother, as less than a warrior. You cut your hair because of the dragon blood burning in you, when you’re the finest leader on the dunes. I know your father...”

“Don’t speak of him!” In that moment, Zahak would have taken his friend’s head if he could have touched him with steel. But they’d sparred together ever since they were old enough to wrap their hands about a weapon and by now they knew each other's moves by heart.

Blocking each blow, Malum finally signaled a pause.

Panting, they stood in silence beneath the moon, and Zahak was struck by the awful finality, the sheer futility of their lives. None of the few remaining dra’gwar had any expectation of ever bestowing the kiss of Fire on a mate. They lived as long as they could, praying the Last Days would come and end their centuries of punishment.

In the meantime, all they had was killing, and living another day.

Zahak had a chance to end that cycle, if he paid the cost.

“No one’s spoken of your father for years, and we should have.” Malum sheathed his scimitar. “You can’t blame yourself for his actions. You are not your father.”

“He was dra’gwar like us,” Zahak replied flatly. Guilt and grief swamped him.  “He killed my mother and would have killed my brother. But me, oh, no, he recognized me.”

He still remembered the red-eyed beast glaring at him, sniffing his chest.  Freshly transformed in a moment of weakness, his father, a red mottled dragon, had practically winked at him. It had known him. It had sniffed the fledgling dragon in his heart. And then the damned beast had turned away and torn into his mother instead.

“Ouch!” He yelped, jarred from the dark memory by a streak of fire across his cheek. The crack of a whip echoed in the night.

Malum calmly coiled the leather back into his hands, smoothing it lovingly with his fingers. He could take a fly off a horse’s ear at twenty paces or more without causing the animal to flinch. Zahak knew very well the sting and blood were deliberate.

“Your mother refused to embrace his Fire. She refused to accept his blood, let alone his dragon. She never allowed him to mark her as his mate. The blame was not only his, my friend. You know how our beasts suffer and burn for the one true mate who can balance us. She never gave him the chance. She denied him her love, and thus, all hope.”

“He still had no right to kill her. I saw him do it. I couldn’t...”  Breathing hard, Zahak hung his head. Did he cut his hair in grief? Or in shame because he hadn’t been able to save his own mother? “I won’t do the same. I won’t risk her.”

“You won’t do the same because you’re twice the man your father was.”  Malum retorted. “That munakura in your tent doesn’t know to be afraid of what you are. You’ve spent all these years learning control and keeping your brother shielded from the ugliness of our lives. How can one who’s never felt the Fire within truly lead all the tribes?”

Zahak paced, kicking the shapeless pile of cloth out of his way. “Don’t start this argument again.”

Clouds hid the moon from view, shadows stretching across the sands. The wounds on his shoulder from the battle and the cut on his cheek burned, but nothing like the promise of the woman in his tent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get more than dozen paces away before he found himself turning back to her. “I don’t want to be azi. I don’t even want to be tal.”

Malum slugged him in the shoulder, forcing a laugh from him. “I don’t want to be your best friend, but I am anyway. More, though, I don’t want to see every last Keldari drowning in Fire, lost in Agni’s punishment, because our leader has no true understanding of the very curse that made us. Use the woman, shield her as you shield Amin, and none…”

Shaking his head, Zahak met his friend’s gaze. “I wouldn’t have to shield her.  She took my blood and survived. Moments ago, she—” He took a deep breath, another, and stopped himself when he finally realized he was trying to catch her scent on the air. “She kissed me, took my Fire, and she still lives. In fact, she…she would take more if I dared.”

Malum’s mouth fell open. “And you stand out here with me bemoaning your misery? Are you a bloody damned fool? What’s wrong with you?”

“She belongs to Amin,” Zahak muttered, running his hands through his hair.  “She’s not mine.”

“Sands swallow him, and sands swallow you too. Do you honestly believe Amin would make such a sacrifice for you? If you refuse such a gift, then you deserve every moment of hell you suffer.”

“What do you mean?”

Whirling back toward camp, Malum jerked to a halt. Following his gaze, Zahak saw Eleni on the ridge of dune, barefoot and wrapped in his taamid with her hair blowing loose about her shoulders. Her wan face tugged on his heart, even while his dragon surged for freedom, clawing and screaming in fury at the cage of flesh imprisoning it.

“I felt your injury.”

She had come to make sure he was all right. Alone, unarmed, weak from exhaustion and exposure, she came to his aid. Stunned, Zahak touched the wound on his cheek. “It was nothing.”

She flinched and dropped her gaze. He wanted to rush to her, fall on his knees before her in the sand, and bury his head against her. It wasn’t pride that rooted him to the spot. It was fear that he would love her more than honor or duty or blood.

Raising her chin, she opened her arms, revealing the discarded taamid he’d left in the tent. Holding his gaze, she stretched out her hands and let the cloth flutter to the ground. Without another word, she turned back to camp.

In turmoil, Zahak climbed the dune, slowly, so as not to run after her.

Muttering fiercely, Malum stomped back toward camp. “Open your eyes, saif, before it’s too late for us all.”

Hurrying after him, Zahak grabbed his arm, turning his friend around. “If I take her, you know what I’ll have to do.”

“Iyeh,” Malum replied steadily, his eyes glinting with challenge. “You’ll kill your brother to keep her.”

Sighing, Zahak picked up the taamid she’d brought and noticed a damp spot.  Curious, he raised the cloth to his face and inhaled her sweet jasmine scent. She must have held it quite a while to give so much scent to it.

Suddenly, it dawned on him.  The cloth was damp with her tears.

Moisture, so rare in this blasted cursed land, and she wept. For him.

FIVE

Blinking away useless tears, Eleni ran back to camp.  She refused to remember the image of Zahak stripped to the waist, battling in the moonlight. Nor would she acknowledge the heavy ache deep in her stomach, the overwhelming urge to lick that trail of blood off his cheek and press her body against his.

No, it was better this way, for both of them. Nobody deserved Darius’s wrath. It would be better to unleash her brother on someone she didn’t even know, someone she didn’t love.

Laughing at her own stupidity, she stumbled to a halt and wiped her tears away. Which tent was Zahak’s? Did she even care? Any of the Keldari would do, as long as she didn’t sleep.

A hand closed on her arm above her elbow. Immediately, she recognized his touch, gentle, yet firm as always. Silently, he led her through the maze of tents back to his. She never would have been able to distinguish it from the others.

Hesitating at the flap, she glanced up at the moon, so far away, cold and perfect like newly-fallen snow. Our Blessed Lady could never forgive a stained, half-Shadowed daughter.  It was too late for her, too late for love or hope.

“Your Lady blessed you well.”

Her throat clogged with shame. “I’m not a true Daughter.”

Zahak tilted her face up to the moonlight. Solemn, he stared into her eyes, seeing so deeply he surely saw the Shadow on her heart. He would see the truth, the dark ugliness of her life growing up beneath her brother’s lash, the terrible things she’d done.

Panicked, she tried to jerk her chin out of his hand, but his grip was firm. He took another step closer, his other hand drawing her against the heat of his body.

His scent flooded her senses, stirring shame into longing.  She couldn’t bear it if he turned away again. Bad enough he rejected her out of duty and love for his brother, it would kill her if he fled in horror from the darkness tainting her blood.

“She Who Hung the Moon shines in your eyes, azharana. I see nothing else.”

Swallowing hard, she fought to keep the sobs from ripping out of her throat.  “You don’t see the Shadow?”

He shrugged.  “We all carry Shadow in Keldar.”

A strangled cry, half sob, half desperate laughter, escaped her mouth. Blood lines traced to the Lord of Darkness were an abomination in the Green Lands, and rightfully so. Darius had secretly reveled in their heritage, encouraging the whispers of darkness staining his soul. He’d gained many dark arts and cruel desires through that taint, which made his behavior even worse. “You—you do?”

“Yama the Black, He Who Breathes Despair, sired us, along with Agni and Somma. Her holy blood is nearly extinct, now, torn apart by war and strife, sacrificed in our futile efforts to gain forgiveness.”  Zahak touched the tattoos on his cheeks.  She knew they were mostly red with some black markings, but in the night, the glyphs all looked the same. “Black for Yama, red for Agni, white for Somma. You won’t see white on any warrior’s face in Keldar.”

Taking a deep breath, she forced the truth from her lips. “I could not wear white either.”

“You don’t need white.” Zahak traced his fingers across her cheek, his voice as feather light. “You carry Somma in your eyes.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Choking misery crowded her mind, bringing back those she’d tricked or used to win Darius allies, the times she’d stood silent and powerless while her brother tortured others, and those when she’d been helpless and bleeding herself. “All my life, all I’ve ever known are Shadows.”

Zahak’s eyes blazed, flames flickering in those dark depths. “You shine through the Shadow, azharana.” Leaning down slowly, holding her gaze, he whispered the next words against her mouth, his breath fluttering against her. “I will not allow anyone to hurt you ever again, especially me.”

So much emotion tore through her that she feared she might fall apart. Only the look in his eyes kept her together. She refused to speak, afraid of his rebuff.  She would not turn him away from his brother whom he obviously loved. His breath quickened, puffs of spice and heat tormenting her. She wanted his tongue sliding deep, his lips hard, his teeth against hers. Want, need, hope, trembling with desire, she forced her body to remain still and quiet.

Finally she could bear no more. Her breathing harsh, she turned away, forcing her gaze away from such temptation. “I don’t plan to sleep. Any tent will do.”

His big palms closed over her arms, warm and gentle as he smoothed his hands up and down. His mouth brushed her ear, sending wildfire roaring through her veins to char her heart. “I don’t want you in any tent but mine.”

Melting, she was melting. All she had to do was turn around and accept his arms, his body.  And then...

He would hand her over to his brother.

“I need you.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “Just for tonight.”

Was that her breathing, so loud and frantic? How could she ever walk away from him?

Sagging back into his embrace, she knew she’d rather die than never know his body against hers.

He picked her up, his mouth at her ear, his bare chest sizzling through her clothes and carried her into his tent. She lay back on the cushions on the floor in his tent, and stared up into his eyes, lost.

Her voice was hoarse, broken with need, but she had to know. “No 'just for tonight,' you said. Not for you.”

On his knees beside her, he removed his weapons, tossing them aside as he held her gaze. He loosened the leather about his waist, and his trousers sagged, barely skimming his hipbones. Her fingers twitched to tug that cloth away so she could trace the ridges of muscle with her tongue.

“So I did.  Tonight is our first night.”

Her tongue felt swollen, her mouth as dry as the desert at noon. She remembered his back shaking, the strain in his face as he’d refused her advances.  “I don’t understand.”

His eyes glowed in the shadows of the tent, the air vibrating with heat and rising flames. “My very good friend beat some sense into me and called me a fool.  He was right. You’re mine, azharana.  Forever.”

“Your brother...”

His face flashed to granite, hard and grim and full of death. “I will handle him when we arrive at the Wall.”

She sucked in her breath, determined to refuse him and spare him such pain.  She knew the cost of challenging a family bond, even one as twisted as hers. “No.  I won’t come between you and your brother.”

His mouth quirked. Standing, he padded about his tent, retrieving bowls and the dreaded vial of oil.  “I see.”

“My own brother is a nightmare. I care about you too much to ask you to fight him off, and I certainly won’t come between you and your family.”

Silence was his response as he returned and sat cross legged on the mats.  Wary, she eyed the vial that had burned so fiercely, before.

She decided a harsher tactic was needed. “I need a man so frightening and strong that my brother won’t come after me. I need your azi, your king. Darius will respect such a title.”

Still nothing. No, worse, the nearly naked warrior hummed as he meticulously washed with that ridiculous scrap of material.

“My brother has flayed people alive. He murdered an entire family including a three-year old child to take his Throne. He revels in blood, pain and death, and he would like nothing better than to hunt me down and torture me for the rest of my life. Do you understand? I need someone as terrible as he is to scare him away!”

Unconcerned, Zahak held out the cloth. “I have wounds. Will you tend them?”

Surprised and awkward, she let her gaze run over his lean body. The wound on his shoulder was ugly but not bad, no longer bleeding. Trailing her gaze downward, she noted the ridges of muscle down his abdomen, the narrowness of his hips, back up to his other shoulder, so broad, his powerful arms. He bore no other injuries except the fresh slash on his cheek.

She took the cloth from him, fingers trembling.  Molten rock slid through her veins, cresting at the smoldering look in his eyes.

The scent of jasmine oil filled her nose. He poured some of the warming oil onto a small bowl set before him. “The oil will help clean and cauterize the wounds.”

She stared stupidly at the jagged cut on his shoulder. Heat flared on her face at the memory of her mouth to that wound, the fresh blood flowing into her, stirring fire and heat in her veins. Something she’d always associated with darkness and torture had come to mean something entirely different to her: need, hunger, longing, desire.

Blessed Lady help her, she wanted to taste his blood again. Carefully, she pressed the cloth to his flesh and his breath hissed out. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s not the wound, but the Fire blazing within me. May Somma let me feel it each time you touch me.”

She sat back on her heels. Her arguments and logical refusals meant nothing to him. How could she undo the damage she’d already wrought? “For once in my life, I’m trying very hard to do the right thing. I refuse you. I refuse to cause trouble with your brother.”

“Do you know why they call me saif?” His voice was light, soft, but a hard glint in his eyes warned her. “I’m the doer of dirty deeds.  I do all the terrible things my brother, as tal, refuses or simply cannot do. I’ve shielded him my entire life.  I’m the oldest son and my father tal before me. I should have taken the leadership role, but I refused it, determined my younger brother should have it. He’s not dra’gwar, you see. He’s not cursed like me. So I went about ensuring he never had to see how truly dark and dirty some deeds of leadership were.”

Fine shivers raced down her spine. His voice was so soft and gentle, even while speaking of those dirty deeds. “He’s tal in name only.”

“I kill so my brother doesn’t have to. How do you feel about that, azharana?  Do you look at me and see a murderer? A filthy jackal feeding on corpses?”

“No.” She let the tears fall, tears she would have refused her own brother.  Zahak deserved her sympathy, her grief for him and the harshness of his life. “I see a man of honor.” Truth, he deserved the full truth, so she forced the rest of her feelings out loud. “I see a man I could love.”

The sudden smile on his face stole her breath. He caught her tears on his fingers and carefully licked the moisture away. “That is why you’re mine, azharana. And that is why it will be my great honor to kill your brother and protect you from any and all who threaten you.”

He cupped her cheek and gently smoothed the pad of his thumb over her mouth. Some of that damnable oil must have coated his hand because flames licked at her tender lip.

“When you kissed me, I was afraid. I was afraid I would love you more than anything in this world. I was right. Do you refuse me now?”

“One last question,” she breathed, her heart racing. “You’ve hated being a dragon warrior all these years, so much that you refused your heritage for your brother. What has changed?”

“You changed me. You took my blood and survived. You took the Fire burning my heart and survived. You’ve given me hope that there’s more than killing and Fire for me, hope I can share with other dra’gwar.”

Solemn, he stared into her eyes, the flames shadowing his gaze. “I will not lie, azharana. The Last Days come. Agni will Burn the world and kill us all. Until then, I will take every precious night with you that the Gods allow, if you’re willing to take the risk. Taking you as my dra’gwar mate is dangerous. I need...”

Flames flared in his eyes, dancing about him so hotly she felt sweat slicking hair to her face and neck. “What do you need?”

“I need you. I need your blood.”

* * *

This was the final test.  Zahak watched her reaction, his heart thumping in his chest so loudly he could hear it.

Eleni held out her arm, and his heart skipped a beat. “Of course, take what you need.”

Flames roared so high within him that his vision was tinged with red. Sweat trickled down his chest, his back, his face, burning his eyes. His skin felt tight and cooked, ready to split and allow the dragon to fly free. So close. If he was wrong, if she couldn’t tame his beast, he would kill her. Closing his eyes, he fought back the horrible memory of his father ripping his mother apart. “A simple wound won’t do.  I need...”

Eleni laid her hand against his face and he wanted to weep. “What is it?  What can I do to help you?”

Opening his eyes, he stared into her shining gaze and felt his heart swell with love.  “I need to mark you. I need to bite you, hard, my teeth and Fire inside you even while I take your body. As I said, mating a dra’gwar is no easy feat, azharana.  I...”

He swallowed hard, trembling when she leaned closer to him, her brilliant eyes locked on his face.

“I could kill you. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“No.”

Agony splintered in his mind. The dragon screeched, wings beating frantically in his skull. He fisted his hand in his hair, determined to hack it all off, every last strand, until no sign of honor remained. If she could not love him, he had nothing.

Her fingers wrapped around his, working his hand loose from his hair. “You won’t kill me. You won’t hurt me. I know it.”

Sagging, he fought to keep the beast trapped within his skin. “How do you know? How can you trust me?” When I don’t trust myself?

“You might be the doer of dirty deeds, but you blaze with Fire at the same time. You still shine against the Shadow. You fight for your people.” Her fingers traced down his neck, sliding down his shoulder, his chest. “No one has ever touched me as gently and tenderly as you.”

“A travesty, then,” he whispered. The thought of anyone hurting her made his dragon scream with rage. Silently, he swore to give her as much tenderness as possible in this grim, harsh life. How long he could shield her, though, he didn’t know.

“No,” she growled. Fisting her hand in his hair, she tugged sharply. “I don’t want you to shield me. I don’t need the saif. I need you. All of you.”

A small smile quirked his lips. His Bright Eyes was certainly forceful when she needed to be.

She slid into his lap and loosened her grip on his hair enough to comb her fingers through it. “Why is your hair short when your warriors wear theirs in a long braid down their backs?”

Grief seized his heart in dragon talons. “Warriors show their honor by the length of their hair. When my father transformed into a dragon and killed my mother, I swore to never grow my hair past my shoulders.”

Tears filled her eyes making them gleam like the luminous moon. “You have more honor than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“All these years, I blamed myself. I failed to shield my mother, and I hated my father. Malum reminded me that you have already done what she could not. You, azharana, have taught me true honor and courage by the light shining in your eyes. I have hope for the first time in my grim life that I will not become a mindless beast. As my bonded dra’gwar mate, you can anchor me. Hearts and minds united, when one dies, the other does too, for we cannot bear to live alone.  The blood I gave you started the bond.”

Dropping her gaze, she twirled a strand of his hair about her fingers. “And now you’ll complete the bond?” Her breathing was shallow and quick, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. “You’ll take my blood?”

“If you’ll allow me.”Zahak stroked his fingers down her back, tracing the curvature of her spine. “Only if you want me to.”

Playing with his hair, she was uneasy, unsure, and he didn’t know why.  “You’ll know my thoughts.  My secrets.”

Ah.  She didn’t ask, but he felt compelled to confirm her fears anyway. “Iyeh.  As you hear my innermost thoughts, I would hear yours. We would be true dra’gwar mates, hearts beating as one, united unto death.”

Silence met his response. Sick at heart, he thought it rather ironic that he had finally chosen to admit his feelings for her despite the trouble it would cause with his brother, and now, she refused him. She couldn’t accept him.

“That’s not it,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Confused, he tipped her chin up to raise her gaze to his. Her bright eyes glowed, hard and furious as polished steel. “My brother is in my head. I can’t close my eyes and sleep without him walking in my thoughts. I would expose you to his Shadow.”

“Good.” Deliberately, Zahak allowed the face of the saif to harden his features.  “It will make it easier to kill him.”

She started, her eyes flaring wider, her mouth sagging open. He couldn’t refuse such a temptation and closed his mouth over hers.

Flames exploded in him, searing intensity stealing his breath. For a moment, he feared they would both burn up in the inferno. He tightened his hands on her, fighting to keep the talons caged within his body instead of sheathed in her tender flesh. Wings thundered in his head, stretching his body impossibly, straining with every beat of his heart to burst forth. He feared for her, imagining her delicate throat in his teeth, his powerful body mauling hers.

:This is a mistake.  I cannot risk you.:

Instead of pulling away or shrinking with fear, Eleni slid her tongue into his mouth and wrapped her legs about his waist. Sands swallow him, the dragon damned near rolled over on its back and purred. It settled more comfortably in his body, allowing the wash of flames without the raging struggle for freedom.

Against his mouth, she whispered, “Make me yours, Zahak.  Whatever it takes.”

Hands shaking, he pulled the shirt up over her head and threw it aside.  The trousers were harder to wrestle off her because he didn’t want to peel her away from his waist.  His were easier. Eyes soft and glazed with need, she started to lie back on the rug, but he pulled her back into his lap.

“Position is very important.” Her flesh felt so cool against his blazing dragon heat, a precious oasis he would die to keep safe. “We mate like dragons, azharana. You chose to come to me like this, two dragons wrapped together, mating in a death spiral. So be it.”

“Death spiral?”

He fisted his right hand in her hair and pulled her head back, baring her throat. The smooth, unmarred column gleamed like crystal sands in the morning sun. Not yet, he wouldn’t mark her yet. Nuzzling her neck, breathing in her sweet jasmine, he slid his other hand down her belly to stoke her desire higher. She clenched around him, moaning deep in her throat, and he tightened his teeth on her neck, fighting his beast.

It would be so easy to slam into her tight, wet sheath and sink his teeth in her throat, slaking this hunger. But she was his azharana, a woman who deserved every tenderness he could muster. He could not bear to leave bruises in her tender flesh. Breathing hard, he forced himself to release her neck and stroke her gently, tormenting them both with the soft glide of his fingers.

To distract himself, he began describing a dragon mating. “Before letting a male mate her, the female makes him win the prize.  Sometimes they fight for dominance and the male forces her into submission. Other times they choose the air, speed and freedom high above the punishing sands. Higher and higher they fly where the air is cool and thin, the acrid stench of poisoned sand is lessened, and the sight of our punishment is hidden below the clouds.

“If the male catches her, they might fight in the air, screeching, wings buffeting, talons slicing each other. The danger is very real, for if a wing is damaged in the fight, the dragon will crash to its death.”

“Why fight?”  She moaned, sliding her hands over her shoulders, dragging at him, holding him close. As if he could possibly leave her now. “Why risk death?”

He eased a finger inside, a slow tormenting glide. Her inner muscles clenched harder and he shuddered, so rock hard he hurt. “She makes him prove his worth.  He has to show he’ll die for her before she’ll let him mate.”

Tension rose in her, pleasure humming through her body. “Would you?”

“Absolutely.” He nibbled the shell of her ear, dipped his tongue deeper, breathing heavier. “You’re killing me now.”

Shuddering with pleasure, her muscles tightened, her thighs clamped about him, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her scent flooded him, musky with pleasure like dewy jasmine flowers at dawn. He drew her climax out as long as possible, slow thrusts of his fingers, his thumb tormenting, his breath hot in her ear. She squirmed in his lap, crying out, trying to join their bodies. A harsh moan escaped his lips at the silken touch of her flesh, but he waited, dripping sweat.

She wrapped her fingers about him and he thought he would die. “So what does the male do when he catches the female in the sky?”

It took him several tries to find his voice. “They twine around each other, mating furiously while they free fall, releasing each other only seconds before crashing into the sands. Mating dragons have occasionally killed each other in the throes of passion.”

Stroking him slow and sure, as tormenting as he’d done to her, she lifted her body higher in his arms so she could press her mouth to his ear. “If you don’t put this inside me right now, I will have to kill you myself.”

* * *

Tenderness was all well and good, but with his magical flames burning inside her, she needed more, much more.

His hands clamped on her thighs. His face as hard as granite, his eyes flickering flames, he plunged deep. Gasping with pleasure, it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t thrusting. Seated deep and breathing hard, he waited until her gaze focused on him.

He smiled, a fierce predatory look that stole her breath. “You took my blood.  You took my Fire.  You took my body.”

Her heart pounded, hair prickling at the base of her neck. A strange sense of expectation filled her, buzzing along her nerves.

“Now take my heart. I am Given to you, Eleni. My heart beats for you.”

A horrible scream of fury echoed in her head, tearing her away from her love.  Her vision blurred, shadows crowding close, suffocating, sucking her down to endless night, to Darius. Blessed Lady above, how could he know? Was his power so great that he could drag her into a Shadowed dream against her will?

Zahak sealed his mouth over hers, and flames roared through her, rushing winds, beating wings, driving back the Shadow with Fire. Her heart skipped and jolted within her chest, struggling to beat. Louder and louder, the beats drummed in her head. Her heart lurched to beat in tune to his, a rapidly increasing tempo that clenched her body all over again.

He hauled her tighter against him, his skin smoking hot. Flexing inside her, he stroked so deeply she couldn’t bear it. She jerked and bucked against him, trying to free his grip so she could rise up and pound her hips against his. He refused to release his fierce hold, controlling every inch as he swirled his hips, grinding against her. Restless need boiled higher in her. She wanted the glide and pull, inch after inch, the feel of him hammering deep. Those tiny movements felt incredible, but need mounted higher with no end in sight.

Suddenly she understood what he meant by spiraling together out of control.

He had her in a death spiral. All she could hope was that they soared instead of crashed together.

Burning spices filled her nose, smoke and ash raining down, firebursts searing her vision. Dark shadows unfurled behind him, sweeping to the ceiling of the tent. His fingers dug into her like claws. Raging instinct pulsed in him, the urges of a feral dragon to subdue its mate, to brand her as his. She couldn’t be afraid, though, not with such fierce need flooding her mind.

Blood bond. His blood tied her to him. Now hers would complete the bond.

His mouth roamed her jaw, behind her ear, her neck, her shoulder.  She offered herself willingly, straining her neck to tilt her head back as far as possible.  Everywhere his mouth touched, flames singed her.  Her skin felt tight, nearly blistered from his heat.  And his teeth, Blessed Lady preserve her, but his scraping, teasing teeth drove her insane.  He nibbled and licked, avoiding any force or pain as long as possible, though she wanted his full force and formidable strength.  The thought of his teeth sinking into her vulnerable neck clenched her inner muscles so hard he growled.

His aggression only added fuel to the rising Fire in her blood. “Bite me hard.”

A tremor shook his shoulders, his breathing harsh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Pleasure crested in her, a billowing Fire flashing her blood to ash, her bones to kindling. “Please!”

His jaws closed on her throat, convulsed, his teeth sinking deep. Pleasure and pain sent another climax rolling through her. Her blood burned, sizzling in her veins. She felt her blood slam into him, his hoarse shout muffled against her neck. A spasm shook him and he spilled into her, another wash of flames, while he kept his mouth locked to her tainted blood

Shadow slithered in her veins, drawn to the powerful flames licking through her. She cried out to warn him, thrashing against his fierce hold. Struggling, she tried to break the bond tying him to her and the awakening corruption.

Darkness reared up inside her, swallowing her vision, sucking her down and the whole world with it, dragging her love into Shadow.

:Zahak!:

She fell into darkness and prayed she didn’t take him with her.

SIX

Red dunes stretched toward the horizon beneath a bruised sky streaked with smoke.  The landscape was empty except for the dunes. No giant Darius marched across the sands; there was no massive Spire. There was nothing. Which meant…

Dread clawing her heart, she turned, slowly, bile rising in her throat.

Twisted black rock reared up so close her skirts snagged on the rough surface. She wore a formal court gown, black silk, heavily trimmed with silver braid. She hated black. She hated the corset so tight she couldn’t take a deep breath, the heavy skirts tangling about her legs, the coils of diamonds and gold strangling her throat and wrists.

Staring at the bracelets and heavy necklace, her pulse raced and her vision swam. They were chains, not jewelry. Blessed Lady, he’d put her in chains.

“You’re doing well, dearest. What a prize you’ve given me.”

Whirling around, Eleni stumbled back from her brother. He smiled, a smug sneer that churned her stomach. Oh, Lady, what had she done?

“You’ve given me access to the very heart of Keldar. They shall all be mine, now. Once I leash your pet, I’ll have an army of savages.”

My pet?  Zahak was far from a pet.  She dared not ask for details for fear of giving too much away herself.  Darius didn’t know everything.  He couldn’t.

Stroking his jaw, a dark look flickered across his face and the smile faded.  “You struck me, Eleni.  You’ve never fought back before.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.  Living with the savages has left me…unsettled.”

“I liked it,” he whispered.

Her stomach flopped and rolled so hard she involuntarily gagged, but managed to keep her face smooth.

Stepping closer, he reached out toward her. As she backed away, something hit her in the back, hard and cold. It was the Spire. Trapped with Darius before her and the foul, concrete symbol of evil behind her, she reflexively clutched handfuls of her skirt, her mind racing. Her teeth chattered and her heart pounded as she hid her sweating fists in the folds of her heavy skirt.

She couldn’t bear for him to touch her.

Every movement slowed down, while her mind raced incredibly fast. Ever so slowly, he stretched out his hand. His fingers parted, floating toward her cheek.  Shadows bubbled in his eyes, so dark she couldn’t remember what color they used to be.

Desperately, she concentrated on Zahak, on his mouth at her throat, his teeth digging into her skin, her blood flowing into him. His thoughts were in her mind, now hers in his, as she focused on the Fire flaring between them, his touch igniting an inferno.

:Zahak.:

She felt him, somehow, far away but growing. Pressure built in her head.  Rage, oh, he was so full of rage. He didn’t give her words, but she saw his thoughts. He wanted to rip her brother limb from limb, crack his skull open and roast him to a blackened pile of bones.

Flames ripped through her, choking her on ash and heat.

Darius leaned into her, driving her head back against the foul stone.

He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “What’s this?”

Panting with fear, she didn’t dare move. She didn’t know what he sensed.

Running his hand down before her slowly, he listened to something only he could hear. He didn’t touch her, thankfully, but she felt ill just the same. He stroked some facet of her being that she couldn’t see.

His hand hovered over her throat.

Immediately, she thought of Zahak’s mark, his bite. Now she was thankful for the annoyingly prim, tall neckline, the scratch of lace at her jaw.

“What have you done, dearest sister?”

Blinking, she tried to keep her face blank and calm. “I did as you told me, Your Majesty.”

“You’ve bedded the savage?”

“Yes.”

Eyes dangerously dark, Darius studied her, coiled like a cobra. “Will he be my ally?”

“It’s his brother I need to speak to, the leader of the tribe.”

“Then why are you wasting time on the lesser brother?” He took a long, deep breath and something flickered through his gaze, something dark and horrible that she couldn’t identify. “You smell like him.”

Bracing his left hand beside her head on the Spire, he leaned down, trapping her with his body. Her stomach cramped with dread, but she didn’t move a muscle. With his mouth an inch away, he breathed her scent, turning his head this way and that, sniffing along her jaw, behind her ear.

As if he followed the path Zahak had taken.

No, Darius can’t possibly know!

Inevitably, he stopped over the bite mark on her throat, just above her collar bone. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The bite throbbed, a dull ache of pain echoing through her. She curled her fingers into fists to keep from covering that mark to shield it from him. She didn’t want him to see it, let alone touch it.

Lightning fast, he struck, a finger in the collar of her dress, a twisting yank.  The bodice tore, exposing her to the tops of her breasts.

“You let the savage mark you.” Darius stared at the bite, his voice cold. Maybe he wasn’t so very angry. Usually he raged and yelled in privacy with her...she was the only one who witnessed his true temperament. “You have a blood bond with him.”

Her voice trembled, but she had to ask. “You know what that is?”

Darius raised his gaze and she flinched involuntarily. His eyes were stone cold black, and full of murder. “Of course I know what a blood bond is.” He blew out his breath hard, his jaw working, his neck corded. So low she doubted he meant for her to hear, he muttered, “No wonder I was compelled here. Such power.”

Power? She had no power from the Lady. Was it Shadow that had drawn him to her? Surely not. Love had nothing to do with Shadow.

“You think not?” Darius laughed, the sound like glass crunching beneath a boot heel. “Love is the quickest path for Shadow to corrupt and use, dearest sister. Why else do you think I have such a connection with you? Why else am I able to walk your dreams, your mind, your innermost secret thoughts? Because of our shared blood and love for one another.”

Eleni swallowed hard to keep the bile from spewing out of her stomach. “I’m not as tainted as you.”

Her brother laughed and shook his head. “No? Then why else do you wear such a brand? It marks you for Shadow, dearest. I feel its call hundreds of miles away behind the Shining Walls of Shanhasson. In all your research, didn’t you note that none are as tainted by the Lord of Darkness as the Keldari? Literally, they are spawned from Him, just as you and I are. You know what that means in our lovely Green Lands. You’ve given yourself to a creature of Shadow worse than I. I would never mar such sweet flesh. Not permanently, at least.”

Her shoulders shook and her throat ached, but she refused to cry. He was wrong. He had to be. She knew Zahak’s heart, his honor, his loyalty to his people.  He wasn’t evil.

“You’ve tied them to me, dearest. You’ve wrapped them up in a neat little bow and sent them to me as a present for me to use at my leisure, exactly as I planned.”

Her shoulders shaking, she drooped against the stone, overwhelmed with failure and self recrimination.

He’d used her brilliantly. She, the great eyes and ears of the High Court, had been duped.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckled. “I knew of your grand plan to find sanctuary far from me. Why else do you think I took such...”

He shut his mouth, his mouth hard and grim. He hadn’t wanted to let that much escape. Or was he using her again? Was that an act to get her to believe some secret element of his plot, to do his dirty deeds?

How ironic. Zahak was the saif for his brother too.

Suddenly, Darius wrapped his hand around her neck. The mark sent screaming agony through her, bringing tears to her eyes. It didn’t like him touching it one bit.

Distantly, she heard Zahak roar to shake the ground. Something held him back, far away, and he bellowed and screamed his rage like a beast. Sick, she was sick with worry and fear. What if Darius was right and her lover was only another creature of Shadow?

He lifted her off the ground, pressing her back against the Spire. The stone vibrated, humming with growing excitement. It liked her fear, her pain, her doubt.

Doubt.Of course. She couldn’t forget the horrible power of this place. It was a place of despair. The rock abraded her through the gown, hungry for her flesh, her blood.

“Now, dearest sister, you will return to your savage and you’ll mark him likewise. As soon as you put your mark into his flesh, he’ll be mine to possess. I want it done as soon as possible, long before you reach this other brother. And then, I want you to mark him too. I’ll use both of them to build my army.”

His fingers closed off her windpipe. Her head pounded fiercely and her lungs burned for air.

“Come to me regularly in dreams, Eleni, of your own choosing. You won’t like me forcing you here, and I can.” Darius stood face to face with her, his eyes swallowed with Shadow, his mouth cruel and hard, hovering over hers. If he dared press his mouth to hers, she would vomit all over him and then go insane.

“I have all the power; you are nothing. Finish the Keldari and return to me. I have more dirty deeds for you to commit in my name.”

He came closer, his mouth so near she could feel his breath. She was retching, screaming in her mind.

“Hit me, dearest. I dare you.”

Mind blanked with terror, she reached for the only thing left. Fire still burned in her veins, Zahak’s Fire. She called it forth, welcoming the searing intensity, the roar of flames and charring heat. Hotter, hotter, she writhed in flames, screaming. She would burn herself to ash before she let Darius touch her.

Distantly, she felt Zahak answer. Rumbling, rolling, an inferno burst into her, lighting up like oil tossed onto wildfire. The world erupted in flames.

* * *

Bleary-eyed, Eleni huddled beside the meager campfire and watched the savages break the tents down while keeping her gaze averted from the stack of bodies on the dune. People had lost their lives so she might live. Heavy-hearted with guilt, she sipped at the flask of water as Zahak had asked, trying to hydrate her body as much as possible before leaving. He’d warned of another hard day of riding, several, in fact, before they reached the Wall.

One of the other Keldari paused beside her, a cup in his hands. She thought his name was Malum, the one with the tight brittle look in his eyes. Her nose twitched at the scent of roasted spices.

“We drink Fire Tea to gain energy for the ride. Do you want some?”

Doubtfully, she stared at the offered cup. The first time she’d drunk the foul brew, it had put her to sleep. Of course, most of that was likely due to exhaustion after days of no sleep and hard riding to reach Far Illone. “Will it help me stay awake?”

He laughed softly. “Drink a full cup of this and you won’t sleep for days.”

She took the cup and nodded her thanks. Her eyes watered from breathing the fumes, but swallow by swallow she forced it down. The Fire Zahak had given her flickered inside her, a cheerful blaze eager and ready for the day. Perhaps the tea did “feed the fire within.” If so, she’d drink a gallon of the stuff.

She needed to be able to drive Darius away, and the strange Fire seemed to be one thing that always drew her awake. After last night, her face felt tight and tender, the skin slightly scorched from the flames she’d used. Despite Zahak’s comforting arms about her, she’d refused to sleep another moment.

He led two horses over, and she rose, bracing herself for another grueling day in the saddle.

“You can always ride with me. It will be easier.”

Lifting her chin, she tried to look strong and competent, not showing that she felt fragile and afraid. “I can make it.”

His face softened in a smile and he stepped closer. Stroking the back of his fingers over her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Shock splintered through her nerves. He kissed her openly, in front of his men? When she was supposed to go to his brother? Wasn’t he worried about their reaction at all?

“They already know, azharana. Think you they did not hear our passion?  Besides, my scent is all over you. You smell like me. They know you as mine.”

Some of the Fire he’d given her flared across her cheeks.

Chuckling, he let his fingers wander lower to the mark on her neck. When she woke, she’d expected it to be bruised and painful. Instead, the bite had healed over night. She couldn’t see it herself, but he’d described it to her as glowing red and black with his dragon’s power. Is that what her brother had sensed?

Lightly, Zahak stroked his mark through the material of her clothing. Flames roared through her, straight to her core. She sucked in a deep breath, stunned at how quickly her body responded to him. Tight, aching, she was tempted to take him by the hand and drag him back inside the tent.

“I dreamed I was a dragon last night, and I knew you needed my help, but I couldn’t reach you.” Zahak’s face turned to grim, cold stone. “Next time he torments your dreams, I will find a way to you, somehow.”

She blinked back tears of gratitude and fear. The thought of him chained for her brother’s foul deeds twisted claws in her heart. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“I will find a way,” he repeated, his voice vibrating with fury. “He shall not touch you again. Your brother is an abomination.”

She couldn’t argue, but doubt remained. Darius was her brother. They shared the same blood and now that blood was in Zahak. She’d given access to him—and thus to all of Keldar—to her brother. Above all, she must refuse to mark him as Darius ordered. If her brother wanted a thing, she must resist as long as possible, even if she never slept again.

Shaking her head, she laughed half-heartedly, trying not to cry instead. Zahak pulled her into his arms and held her a moment, his body strong and warm against hers, his arms powerful, his hands tender. He was such a man, such a warrior. She had to find a way to protect him.

“It is I who will protect you, azharana. Now step up on your mare, and let us ride.”

The mare’s ears pricked forward, her manner less intimidating than the day before. “Good morning, Harry. Are you ready for a long ride today?”

Snorting, the mare shook her head and stretched out her ugly nose to sniff at Eleni. Calm and still, she let the mare smell her, hoping the animal wouldn’t sense her underlying dread of hours in the saddle again. The mare went straight to the bite mark on her throat, smelled it, and snorted again. Then she turned her head away and stood expectantly, ready for her rider to mount.

Zahak tossed her up onto the horse’s back. “See?  She smells me on you. She accepts you as Keldari.”

“Will your people accept me that way?”

“You bear my mark. None will refuse you, now.”

Staring down into his dark eyes, she forced herself to ask the lingering question. “What about your brother?”

Zahak smiled, but his eyes didn’t match the curve of his lips. No, the look in his eyes was grimmer than ever. “I’ll speak to him when we reach the Wall.”

Somehow, she thought “speaking” was a little more involved than he admitted, if the tightening about his eyes and mouth was any indication.

At that same hard, ground-eating trot, the riders headed out into the dunes following some path only they could see. Everything looked the same to her, with no visible path or marking to designate the direction. Sometimes they rode straight up a dune; other times, they rode around. She really wasn’t sure at all what direction they were going until the sun started to rise at their back. West.

“You said we were riding to the Wall?  Is that where your people live?”

He shook his head. “Our Wells are northeast of the Wall. We have no villages, not like you know. Our people roam from Well to Well, if the tribe is lucky enough to possess more than one. We war with other tribes to keep our Wells.  Some of the tribes are nearly decimated, and even the Cobras are fewer than ever.  Dra’gwar will be extinct in another generation or so. Fire doesn’t always pass to the child—as with my brother—or simply no children are born. Keldar is a hard life for even our women.”

“That is all very interesting,” she said politely, “But why are you avoiding my question?”

A reluctant grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I am avoiding the subject, I suppose. Speaking of the Wall is difficult for Keldari, because it’s tied to the Last Days. Agni Comes from the west to Burn Keldar, the final payment of our devalki.”

“What does that mean?”

“Our unforgiveable sin,” Zahak replied solemnly. “Only our deaths will satisfy Agni. We built the Wall at the edge of the sea, as high and wide as man can build.  He will Come. We will die. And the first sign of the beginning of the Last Days will be when He sets the Wall ablaze. Our priests foretell He is Coming, and so the tribes gather at the Wall. We gather to die.”

Tears burned her eyes. He spoke so matter-of-factly, yet sorrow tightened his face. She couldn’t comprehend the guilt this whole nation carried, their hopelessness and despair. “Will no one be saved?”

“Once the tribes have gathered, warriors who want to lead the united tribes will fight hand-to-hand until one is left standing, the azi. It will be his duty to ensure the survival of as many of us as possible, but in the end, only a remnant will be saved.”

A remnant. She watched the punishing sun begin its climb from the horizon, dreading the heat, the thirst. She tried to comprehend how these people lived day after day in such harsh conditions, while their end loomed closer every day.

A question nagged her tangled thoughts as she struggled to understand this culture. “You said warriors would fight to win the position of azi.” He nodded.  “You expect your brother to be azi.” His jaw clenched but he nodded again. “Is he very good at hand-to-hand combat, then?”

“Not exactly.”

An awful dread gnawed at the pit of her stomach. “You. You plan to battle for him, don’t you? Until the very end.”

Zahak stared straight ahead, his face devoid of any emotion. “I planned to ensure his victory no matter the cost.”

“And now?” Her throat ached, her hands tightly clenched on the mare’s mane.  How had she grown so dependent on him so quickly, so emotionally attached?  The thought of him dying for his brother made her want to scream and weep.

“Now, I have a reason to survive that final battle.”

She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He’d planned to fight until the very end, and then would let his own brother kill him to win azi. The senselessness of it made her head ache. Then the reality of his words struck her like a gong. Her head jerked up and she searched his face, guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders. “You are going to fight—”

She couldn’t bring herself to say kill, not when she was the cause.

Zahak turned his head, his dark eyes shining like polished obsidian. “Now I fight for you, and I will not lose that fight.”

* * *

“You may let go, now, azharana.”

Someone pried at her cramped fingers. Eleni tried to cooperate, but she couldn’t feel her fingers any longer. She couldn’t feel much at all, which was a blessing.

She tried to raise her head, but it simply weighed too much for her neck to support. Sagging, she slid off into his waiting arms.

She cracked an eye, saw only black. It was night. She’d made it.

He laid her down on the tent floor, his voice low as he spoke to one of his men.  Cradling her head in his palm, he raised her up and pressed something to her lips.

“No, please, not the Piss again.”

Zahak laughed so hard he actually spilled some on her mouth. The blazing heat and fumes of fiery spice told her what fluid he offered. “Not Dragon Piss, azharana, just Fire Tea. Malum said you liked it enough to drink a whole cup at dawn.  It’ll get you back on your feet.”

She took several sips, welcoming the blazing path of warmth down her throat into her stomach. Flames spread through her body until her toes and fingers tingled with life again.

Clothing rustled, and she realized he was stripping his shirt off, his trousers.  Then his fingers settled on her sweat-stained garb. In moments, they were both nude.

Blessed Lady above, she stunk like a sweaty smithy. She hadn’t enjoyed a decent bath in days, and she certainly couldn’t count the few dabs of oil yesterday as a “bath.” Besides, she was so weary she couldn’t move. Surely, he didn’t plan...

“May Somma forgive us of our devalki.” He quickly gave himself a cursory bath, using perhaps a small cup of water and a few drops of oil all together as she watched. A cup! Yet when he leaned over her, he didn’t reek of body odor, far from it.

Her mouth actually watered. He smelled like his oil, fragrant flowers and musky spices. He smelled good enough to sink her teeth into.

Rumbling a low growl, he cleansed her face. “I certainly hope so, azharana. I want you to mark me.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she deliberately imagined the terrible image of her brother enslaving Zahak through her mark. Whatever happened, she couldn’t bite him, no matter how much she wanted to mark him as hers.

“I want your brother to try me. He’ll find a dragon waiting for him in my sleep, azharana. Let him come.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered painfully, her throat a dry rasp.

Immediately, he paused the bath and lifted a flask of water to her lips, only allowing her a few swallows. “Not too much at once, not on the Fire Tea.  You don’t want to douse the Fire, merely water the flesh. Tell me more of your brother so I might know my enemy.”

“He’s—we’re—tainted.”

“I already know of your Shadowed blood, azharana, and it truly doesn’t matter. I, too, am tainted. All Keldari are tainted.”

“But it means more in the Green Lands, or rather, less, much less. We’re cursed, doomed.”

“Think you I do not understand curses and doom when I have a dragon ready to tear its way out of my chest and kill everyone I hold dear?”

“My brother kills people. He kills not for justice, or even revenge, but because he likes it. He likes their pain.” Closing her eyes, she forced down the memory of how Darius had taken the High Throne. “He enjoys hurting people.”

Tenderly, Zahak wiped her face, her neck, stroking away the dust of travel. He made it a caress, a massage, and a bath, all at the same time. “He has hurt you.”

Drooping with pleasure and relief at his sure touch, she nodded. “Many times.  I bore the brunt of his anger when we were children. Before his death, Father was as bad. He once beat Darius and me both with a horse whip until our backs and legs bled. That was the first time Darius tasted my blood.”

Zahak’s hand froze a moment and she felt a wash of cold fury from him.  When he continued the bath, though, his hands were still gentle. “That’s why he can come to you in dreams, azharana. You have a blood bond with him above and beyond your family ties. What did he want with you this last time?”

“He wants access to the Keldari to make you all his army. Trouble is coming, a challenger to take his High Throne.” His hands slid down her arms, rubbing in oil, easing the tension in her muscles. It felt so good she wanted to cry. “He wants me back as soon as possible.”

Hands and cloth, water and oil, caressed her breasts and stomach. “You will never go back to him, azharana. I swear it.”

“He’s a monster: a murderer, a liar. He manipulated me into coming here. He let me think I would find a way to escape him, when he planned to use me all along.” Zahak took her nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling, and she lost her train of thought. The miserable hours of riding and torture in the desert heat dwindled away—fast—before his passionate care. “I have to find a way to break this bond he has on me.”

“The only way to break a blood bond is death.” Moving lower on her body, he kissed her stomach, each hip bone, the crease of her thigh. “I intend it to be his.”

Instead of settling his mouth for pleasure, he sat up and turned his attention to her legs. She groaned with disappointment, until those strong, sure hands began working on her thighs. Saddle sore and exhausted, every muscle tight and achy, she struggled not to cry out. It hurt, in a good way. She bit her lip, blinking back tears.

“I know it hurts, but if we don’t get these kinks out now, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, let alone ride.” He glanced up at her face and winked. “And I want you fit for more riding.”

His hands worked magic, massaging the fiery oil deep into her skin. Heat coursed through her thighs and calves, burning away the soreness. The Fire he’d kissed into her crackled higher in response, fed by the oil and the stroke of his hands. Even the mark on her throat burned to life, casting more heat on the rising flames. Sitting back on his heels, he surveyed his handiwork. “How does that feel?”

She hadn’t thought she’d feel up to doing anything more than sleeping for a year.

Stretching her legs, twisting her foot, she tested her muscles. Not an ounce of soreness remained. Spreading her legs in invitation, she replied, “I think I’m ready to ride.”

“Roll over.”

He watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze that only deepened her desire.  Closing her eyes, she forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply as she rolled over. His hands closed around her calves, his grip firm and sure, his fingers kneading deep.

There was a seductive magic in the slow powerful glide of his hands. She knew he meant to loosen sore muscles, but she felt possessed and treasured in a way she’d never felt before. His hands moved higher, massaging up her hamstrings, and she moaned softly. Heat pooled in her abdomen. Spices soaked into her nose, stirring the Fire sparking in her veins.

His hands left and she wanted to weep. But then he touched her again, the smooth glide of oil slicking her thighs. Oh, what burning, luxurious heat, soaking into those aching muscles. His hands moved higher, working her inner thighs.  She was torn between pain from riding the horse, and need. Easing her thighs further apart, he stroked the delicate skin. Arching her back, she lifted her buttocks slightly, silently begging him to slide those tormenting fingers higher.

He came up over her, leaning over her back. His hands lingered on her buttocks, kneading any trace of soreness away, while he kissed her back, her shoulder. Soft and light, lingering over every ridge of bone and hollowed curve, he traced patterns through the valley of her back, tickling across her spine.

She moved restlessly, need coiling tighter and tighter.  She should be exhausted, unconscious, and miserably sore. Instead, she moaned, her breathing coming quicker.

Finally, he shifted enough to slide his fingers deeper between her thighs.  Leaning down, he breathed heavily in her ear, his voice thickened by desire. “Ah, what an oasis I have found.”

She arched higher, driving her hips up and back as much as his weight against her upper body allowed. Moving, swaying, she did the work, sliding her flesh against his hand. Fire built inside her. Her hair clung to her damp skin. Zahak’s scent changed, thickening with musk, turning feral. Smoking spices filled her nose, feeding the Fire until she shuddered beneath his hands, pleasure stealing her breath.

He moved on top of her, his body so hot she cried out. Controlling her with his weight, he didn’t let her rise to her knees. Taking her hands in his, he stretched her arms out over her head and pinned her wrists to the tent floor.

Her breathing quickened, a trickle of anticipation sparking through her.  There was no fear, though.  She’d been chained and beaten before, abused, ridiculed and humiliated by her own brother, but this man didn’t frighten her.

“Not even with my dragon nigh bursting out of my flesh?”

His voice rumbled, gravelly and low, harsh with strain.  Now she knew why he waited; he was trying to regain some control.  He was afraid of hurting her, afraid he would scare or repel her.  In answer, she arched her back and rubbed against him as much as she could.

Releasing her hands, he lifted his weight just enough for her to get her knees under her.  He thrust deeply, shuddering, heavy against her back, so hot and hard and wild, every muscle straining.  He enclosed her with his body, dominant and aggressive but still so tender and careful of her.  Slowly, he pulled back, drawing a ragged groan from his lips.

His dragon raged within him, struggling for its freedom, feral with its need to claim her, forcefully, exultantly.

“I’m not going to break, Zahak.”

A sound that might have been laughter shook him against her.  Or curses, she couldn’t be sure.  “Don’t you feel how close the beast is?  I’m fighting it with every breath I take.”

She pushed her head back, rubbing into his shoulder and neck.  “Then don’t fight it.”

Growling, he gripped her shoulder in his mouth, setting his teeth hard enough that she moaned.  Her body tightened around him, though, loving the feel of his teeth, his aggression.  Then a wave of agony flooded her through the bond, burning her eyes with tears, guilt and a terrible fear he would kill her.  She caught an image of a massive dragon tearing a woman apart, two little boys standing by frozen in horror.

:I trust you, Zahak.  I love you.:

His control shattered.  Gripping her shoulder in his teeth, he thrust hard and fast, his body driving hers back to that summit relentlessly until they both exploded in a wash of flames.  Panting, he drew her down to the floor, curling around her protectively.

:My Bright Eyes, how I love you.:

He fell asleep almost immediately, but Eleni remained awake, forcing her mind to stay alert.  She had more at stake than ever.  If Darius hurt her lover, it would kill her heart, her spirit, in a way he’d never been able to before. She couldn’t bear it if he hurt Zahak.

I have to find a way to protect him.

SEVEN

A mountain range stretched across the horizon, north and south as far as she could see in the dying sunlight.  She started to ask Zahak to name them, but hesitated.  They were too regular, too measured, clearly man made.

Without inflection in his voice, he whispered, “The Wall.”

Up close, the Wall was even more impressive, easily as high as the tallest tower of Shanhasson.  Wondering what material they’d used to build it, she reached out to touch it.

Then she was even more stunned.  In a land of endless sand and drought, she hadn’t seen a single tree.  “Blessed Lady above, where did you get so much wood?”

He shrugged.  “We trade for it.”

“Trade what?”  She couldn’t help the incredulity from her voice.  The horses had incredible stamina, true, but they were pitifully ugly.  The Keldari had nice weapons, but so did many other warriors of the world.

“We have plenty of gold.”

Leaving her with that startling tidbit, Zahak halted his mount and turned to his men. “Our tal is here, and I have failed in my task he set me as saif. If you wish to camp with him alone, now is your chance.”

Malum dragged his whip through his hand, not even looking up as he spoke. “You won’t camp with the Cobras?”

His voice wasn’t confrontational, but she sensed the man’s inner turmoil, a strain in the tightening of the skin about his eyes and mouth. His nostrils were pinched.

“We shall camp with Cobras unless Amin refuses us. But I will stand alone before our tal.”

The Keldari glanced at one another, down at the sand, at the sky, at the cursed leather whips. All these years, Zahak had sacrificed for them, and now, they couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Were they so terribly afraid of his brother?  Lifting her chin, she kneed the mare forward to stand beside him. “Not alone, for I stand with you.”

Flames danced in his gaze. He leaned over and tugged the black cape back, throwing it over her shoulders, and jerked the tunic open underneath to bare his mark on her throat. Self consciously, she started to lift a hand to touch it, but she forced herself to leave it openly displayed and unprotected. Let everyone see his brand on her, if that’s what he desired.

Side by side, they rode along the Wall. Distantly, she heard the murmur of people and neighing horses. She still didn’t understand how he knew where to go, but that camp of people must be his.

“They’re not afraid of me or Amin, azharana. They’re afraid of you.”

Surprise jolted through her. “Me?”

“You are the unknown stone yet to be tossed. From the beginning when you offered water, you have not acted as we expected. You have not acted like a munakura. No foreigner would have known to offer water or accept hospitality.  In fact, you should have arrived unconscious, half dead, and slung over the back of my horse. A munakura certainly never would have chosen me. So now, they wonder. Add the Wall, what it means to us, and their discomfort only mounts.  The prophesy...”

His voice fell away, unsure. She’d never seen him so worried. “What prophesy?”

“The reason we went searching for a White Daughter is two-fold. We’ve seen the reward of such sacrifice: a Well long dry for thousands of years suddenly overflowed with water, bringing tribe Tellan into existence. But the most important reason is a legend the priests have told for generations, how a woman not of our desert...”

Silently, she waited for him to continue. His brow was creased, his palm wrapped around the hilt of the curved blade on his hip. When he finally continued, he spoke so softly she had to strain to hear.

“At dawn, she will walk out of Agni’s Fire and Yama’s Despair unscathed and declare her mate to be the first azi.” A surge of fear from him scared her more than his words. “I never fully believed. I thought a White Daughter would be enough to make Amin the azi. I never thought—”

He jerked his mount to a halt and reached over to clamp his hand on her upper arm. “Stay with me at all times.  If—when—Agni Comes…” His shoulders shook, his eyes blazing with determination and fear, for her.

Although she didn’t know who Yama was, she understood despair very well indeed. “Don’t worry for me, Zahak. I’ve already survived the fire of Agni. Don’t you see? You carry the Fire. You gave it to me. You said even Keldari women don’t survive unless they fully tame their mates’ beasts. Here I am, alive and well.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand, his face solemn and tender. “Iyeh, here you are, and you’ve certainly tamed me.” His jaw clenched, and then he forced away his worry. Bit by bit, the hard saif returned. “I will keep you alive and well. Let us find my brother and break the news to him.”

“What news would that be, brother?”

* * *

Staring into Eleni’s eyes, Zahak felt a wave of guilt from her that made his heart ache. She hated the thought of bringing him pain or causing strife in his tribe. Setting brother against brother would earn approval from the Shadow which spawned her tainted blood line. Ironically, such turmoil made her more Keldari than not.

:My heart beats for you, azharana.:

Coolly, he turned to his brother who sat on his horse a dozen paces away. For the first time in the thirty one years of his life, he forced himself to view Amin with clarity instead of shame and guilt.

His brother sat loose and casual on his horse, comfortable as all Keldari must be on horseback. He wore the same taamid as all males, and his hair was long and full, unlike his older brother, but no weapon hung at his hip.

Zahak knew he must have at least a knife on his body somewhere, but no scimitar, short blade, or whip, the traditional weapons on the desert dunes. Had he ever seen Amin use a scimitar? He couldn’t remember. Even as a boy, Amin had clung to their mother’s clothing, afraid of the clang of metal, harsh grunts, and laughter as warriors danced the blades.

All this time, Zahak had believed his brother purer because he didn’t carry the curse of dragon blood, the Fire within that killed and twisted men into beasts, because he was afraid of that Fire himself. Now, though, with his Fire burning in Eleni’s bright eyes, he felt shame no longer. And he saw a brother who was more munakur than the woman beside him.

“This is the White?”

How would Amin take the news? “My brother, this woman is Eleni dal’Moran dan’Angelina from the Green Lands, White Daughter of Somma, She Who Hung the Moon, and she’s mine.”

“I can see that,” Amin answered dryly, indicating the mark blazing on her throat. “I smell you all over her, and her on you.”

Heat blazed through Zahak’s veins, his dragon rousing, eager to fight for his mate. “She chose me. When I bought her from the traders near Far Illione, she offered water as though she were one of us, and she accepted my hospitality.  She’s mine, brother.”

“I see that,” Amin repeated, his face tightening.

Muscles coiled, Zahak let his hand settle on the scimitar. Eleni cried out softly, her guilt and fear wrenching his heart. He regretted that she would see him cut down another, let alone his brother, but he would fight for her.

“Later,” Amin bit off, his face darkening. He jerked his horse around and trotted into the lengthening shadows. “There’s news you need to hear as my saif.  Come to the tents.”

Dragon riding him hard, Zahak breathed heavily, trying to come down from battle frenzy to talking and plotting the demise of troublemakers. He rode after his brother, Eleni beside him.

“That’s it?” she whispered, eying his brother’s back.

“For now.” Then he realized their conversation had been in Keldari, so she wouldn’t have understood the words. “There’s trouble, worse than our disagreement. We’ll discuss you later.”

“Later,” she blew out a hard breath disgustedly. “He uses you. ‘Come, saif, take care of this problem for me.’ I don’t like him at all.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Amin called back over his shoulder in her language.

“Good,” she muttered. Zahak thought she might actually strike his brother if she were close enough. He felt a surge of protectiveness from her, a fierce urge to defend her mate that warmed his heart. She certainly had the heart of a dragon.

At the tent, Amin gave a sharp look her direction. Zahak knew very well that his brother didn’t want her involved in the coming discussion, but he refused to allow her out of his sight. Taking her hand, he helped her dismount. At Amin’s sneer, she wiped the discomfort off her face and walked as proudly as she could despite the soreness in her muscles.

“How far did my brother carry you on the ride to the Wall?”

“Not one step,” she replied, her voice hard. Fire surged through their bond and her eyes flashed. She hesitated at the tent flap and stared at Amin, brow arched.

Zahak hid a smile. She wanted words, hospitality, some greeting and assurance of safety. Very smart woman.

“I need to speak to my saif, woman. You may wait out here.”

“Come, azharana.” Zahak forced lightness to his voice and tucked her hand beneath his arm as he turned away from his brother’s tent. “My tent awaits the grace of your presence.”

“Sands swallow you! Tellan refuses to join the tribes, the Mambas raid the other sepahs nearly every night, and you want to dally with a woman in your tent!”

Feigning surprise, Zahak turned to his brother. “Eleni is the mate of my heart.  I’m Given to her. Where I go, she goes.”

Amin stared at them, jaw flexing.

“We have water.” Her voice was soft but firm, ringing with pride. “May we take shelter in your shade?”

Zahak froze, waiting to see how his brother would react. She gave him a chance to back down and accept them as guests, but if he refused…they would not have to wait until Agni’s Coming to kill each other.

Finally, Amin inclined his head slightly. “As tal’Cobra, I welcome you to rest in my tent.”

Not the entire sepah but only his tent, and he didn’t make the welcome permanent. Still, it was a slight victory. Proud of her calm and quick mind, Zahak allowed her to precede him into the tent and made sure she was seated first directly across from his brother before he sat beside her.

Silence grew in the tent, Amin stewing, smoothing the folds of his taamid, jerking his gaze away from them both. Amused, Zahak was content to let his brother learn full appreciation for his seemingly delicate, regal woman.

Eleni turned to him, her voice mild yet carrying in the tent. “Is this camp so very poor that they cannot offer refreshment?”

Swallowed laughter nearly choked him. Ah, she was a wonder at the delicate dance of words that were sometimes more deadly than blades.

Amin flushed darkly, his jaw working, and roared, “Tea!”

Immediately, a red-robed priest came from the back alcove with a tray.

Accusingly, Zahak narrowed his gaze on his brother. He hadn’t known any other people were inside the tent. The priest would have overheard every moment of their conversation. While Amin might be comfortable with Shaddad’Agni, listening to all the grim predictions and doom of their people, Zahak was not.  He’d much rather be in the thick of battle than talking about the Trinity’s retribution and some horrible sin committed a thousand years ago and more.

Amin ignored him and turned a sly smile on Eleni. “Of course you must be given the best refreshments, and our best is Fire Tea.”

He poured a large cupful and handed it to her.

Wrapping her hands about the cup, she leaned over and inhaled its burning perfume. She made a happy sound, and then proceeded to drain the entire cup.  Smiling slightly, she held it out to Amin. “More please?”

He turned bewildered eyes to Zahak. “She can drink our tea?”

“Iyeh, brother. I told you, she is unlike other munakuri.”

“She carries the Fire within.” Normally, Shaddad’Agni’s voice was low and melodic, not shaking like an old man’s. “A White from beyond the sands. She survived our Fire. She’s the one.” The priest pierced Zahak with piercing black gaze, fervent and even frightened. “Which makes you our azi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Amin retorted. “He’s not even tal.”

“Only because he has never challenged you,” Shaddad’Agni replied sharply.  “I’ve told you what I See for you.”

“Lies, all lies!” Amin lurched to his feet and paced back and forth in the tent.  He stroked his chin, rubbing his mouth. “I won’t—”

He jerked to a halt and stared at Zahak with wide, frightened eyes.  Concerned, Zahak dropped his hand to the scimitar on his hip and drew Eleni closer to him with his left. He’d never seen his brother so afraid. Guilty, too, if the flicker in his eyes was any indication.

“If you want to be azi, then challenge me.” Amin gritted his teeth, his eyes bleeding dark with emotion. “In the meantime, the Mambas are going to attack before dawn. Tellan refuses to come to the Wall, and I’m sure their tal will express a great deal of opposition to whomever we put forward as azi. With their wealth of water and larger numbers, they could easily decimate the rest of us.”

“He has no choice,” the priest said, his eyes glowing with holy light. “Somma’s Daughter stands at his side. She forces his path.”

Eleni tried to stand, her body vibrating with tension. “I force nothing.”

Mind whirling, Zahak tightened his arm around her waist, shielding her against his body. “The Mambas are not a concern,” he said, ignoring Amin’s spluttered denials. “I know our warriors, and I assure you we can handle a few skirmishes. The concern is Tellan.”

He glanced at Eleni, his brow creasing. “They have Whites of their own and will stand against our azi. They might even try to take her from us.”

“You forget the other threat,” Shaddad’Agni whispered, his gaze locked on her. Zahak didn’t like the blaze in the priest’s eyes. It made his skin crawl.  “Someone might try to sacrifice her as befitting a White’s blood to Agni. Or even Yama, as Tellan did to renew the Well of Tears.”

Zahak lurched to his feet, dragging her with him. He drew her toward the flap, scimitar in his hand. “I’ll kill anybody who lays a hand on her.”

Slowly, the priest rose to his feet, the bright red robe a constant reminder of Fire, Agni’s punishment. “Guard her well, saif. Keldar hangs around her neck like Agni’s Mark, dragging us all down to His Fire. Whoever holds her, holds the tribes. Beware, black blood rises, hatred and despair determined to wipe away as many of us as are spared by Agni. Yama will not give us any peace, even if Agni spares us. The Black Dragon comes, too. Whether Red or Black Comes first, only the Trinity knows.”

“Take care of the Mambas,” Amin said tightly, his hands clenched into fists.  “And then, my brother, you and I will settle this unfinished business between us.  The survivor can have the woman.”

“I will never wed you,” Eleni retorted. “I know nothing about your prophesies, your azi, or this Coming that has you shaking and cowering in your blankets, but I know that I love Zahak saif’Cobra. My heart beats for him alone.”

Backing out of the tent with a careful glance about to ensure no trouble waited, Zahak held her body against his, and her bond harder. Her thoughts roiled with guilt and worry, but beneath her distress, he felt the strength of her love.  He knew the strength of her heart.

It was time for her to take the final commitment to him and seal their bond forever, even if that meant facing her darkest fear.

EIGHT

If his brother didn’t try to kill him, hers would.  Once again, Eleni was tearing everything apart, just with her presence. The red-robed priest spewed hateful prophesies, she was a dead weight around Zahak’s neck, dragging him down to Shadow.

I should never have come here.

He tossed her up onto her mare’s back, his manner unconcerned.  “I have something to show you.”

Mounting his horse, he lead her a ways outside of camp. A hill rose, arching toward the Wall. Only when he directed his horse to begin climbing did she realize his intention.

The ramp was rough, stones and boulders covered in packed sand and clay, but the horses maneuvered up the steep slope without too much difficulty. Despite the turmoil in her heart, she yearned to see from the top of the Wall. What did the other side look like?  How far could she see?

After ten minutes of silent riding, they reached the summit.  Illuminating the night sky for miles, the full moon gleamed on an ocean stretched out to the western horizon.  Rough waves crashed below.  The Wall was built on a towering cliff, massive, jagged rocks stabbing up from the spray. “The sea rumbles as though it hungers for Keldar’s sands.”

“In a way, it does.” Zahak’s his voice was a solemn whisper before the awesome sight. “When I was a lad, there was enough room beyond the wall for one to walk and climb. It was a dare of sorts that all lads faced, whether they were brave enough to climb down to the outer edge and taste the salty water. Now, the ground is crumbling away from the Wall in spots. That’s why the priests declare Agni Comes sooner than later.”

She turned to look back over Keldar. The top of the Wall was large enough that the horses stood easily. In both directions, the Wall stretched out like a towering road. She could ride the boundaries of Keldar for days and days, never touching the sands. “You didn’t honestly think this was enough to keep out your God, do you? A dragon?”

“We never built the wall to keep Agni out.” He pointed to a stack of wood piled in the center of the wall.  Two men squatted beside it, their gaze trained on the ocean below. “We know Agni will come from the sea, but at what point, no one knows. We keep watchers on the Wall at all times, waiting for the sign of His Coming, and when He does, the Wall will blaze like one massive torch.  All of Keldar will know it and tremble.”

Dismounting, Zahak reached up and pulled her down into his arms.  Breathing in his spicy jasmine scent sent her heart quickening, her blood pooling, and she rubbed her cheek against the muscle of his chest.

When he tilted her face up to his, her heart raced at the determination glinting in his eyes. “I want you to mark me.”

She recoiled, backing away from him. His brother, and hers; the tribes; these prophesies, worry, turmoil and dread. All she wanted was sanctuary, a place where her brother dared not come. She’d found love beyond anything she’d ever dreamed, but she’d brought conflict and danger to the man she loved.

Ignoring her reluctance, he threw his cloak back off his shoulders and loosened the neck of his shirt. “I understand if you’re reluctant to bite me so forcefully, feeling my skin against your tongue, tasting my blood.”

His voice lowered with each phrase to a low rumbling purr that curled her toes. Moisture and heat flooded her core. Dragging her gaze from the bronzed expanse of skin and the sleek play of muscle and sinew, she paced the width of the Wall. Tears thickened her voice. “I cannot.”

“What exactly did your brother tell you?”

“He wants to leash you.” She didn’t even recognize her voice, all heavy and sultry. She paced faster, trying to ignore him and deny the fire he stirred with that heavy-lidded look in his eyes. “He wants me to mark you, and so I cannot. I will protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection, azharana.”  Zahak growled, the low rumble thrumming her spine.  “I want your mark upon me.  I need it.  You don’t want my status to lower in the eyes of my warriors, do you?  They’ll think you’re unhappy and dissatisfied with me if I don’t wear your teeth marks.  They’ll think I’m unable to stir your uncontrollable passion.”

She made a sound of choked desperation.

“Do you, azharana?  When I’m inside you, giving you pleasure, do you feel the urge to bite me?  Or is the idea repugnant?”

“No,” she breathed raggedly.  “I do, but...”

“Then come here and let me stir my Fire in you.”

“My brother...”

“Forget him.” Zahak snapped like a whip. “Do you doubt my ability to protect you from any and every one who threatens?”

“No! But Darius...”

“You do. You don’t believe I can defeat him.”

“You haven’t seen anything as bad as Darius in a rage.” Her voice broke and she shivered, her skin crawling. She pictured the horrible glint in Darius’s eyes, and her lover trapped, chained, at her brother’s mercy. Her stomach pitched and she fought not to throw up.

Immediately, Zahak took her in his arms. “Ishtay, azharana. Nothing is going to happen to me. I forget that you’re not raised Keldari. You’ve never seen me fight. You don’t know how truly vicious I can be.”

She mumbled against his chest. “Not as vicious as my brother. He’s a serpent, poisonous, foul, tainted. You...”

“And I’m a dragon,” Zahak interrupted. “I eat other serpents for dinner and then hunt a few Mamba warriors for dessert.”

He held her, his hands smoothing her hair, her back. Shivering, she stood in his embrace, mute, afraid, and aching with need so badly she wanted to weep.  Tilting her head aside, he dipped down and brushed his mouth over the scar in her throat. His mark blazed in her flesh like a brand. Fire pulsed through her, drawing a harsh cry from her. He swept his tongue back and forth over his mark, and her knees trembled, weakened, until she sagged against him.

Nibbling and licking, he kissed Fire into her skin. The scar burned, searing straight to her heart. He slid a hand behind her head, cradling her face against his chest, overwhelming her with his scent, his heat, his strength.

Her mouth watered. His skin was hot velvet against her lips, smoky spice and tight muscle. She ached to mark him, burned to taste his spicy blood again and feel that incredible heat and strength pouring into her.

“Do you know why I’ve never allowed myself to love anything?” She rubbed her face restlessly against him, fighting her own need. Her blood felt hot and thick in her veins, her skin too tight, her face flushed, as though his dragon surged inside her. “Because Darius would torment whatever I loved and then kill it.”

“He shall not torment you ever again.”

Tears sizzled her cheeks like acid.

“Please, Eleni. If you have any love in your heart for me, I beg you to mark me.  Some day, I pray you will Give yourself to me, repeating the oath I gave to you.  Then, azharana, nothing shall ever keep us apart, not even death.”

Not even death. Those words rang in her soul, giving her hope she’d never had before. Could their love truly be safe from Darius? Safe from death?

“Iyeh,” Zahak whispered in her ear. “Mark me. Love me. Give your heart in exchange for mine. When one heart ceases to beat, so will the other. We’ll fly the night skies and dance in the light of Somma’s moon forever.”

Lips trembling, she kissed his skin. Darius’s threats and dark promises echoed in her mind, warring with her burning desire. Zahak shook against her, his excitement and longing urgent in her mouth. She grazed him with her teeth and he groaned harshly, his fingers convulsing about the nape of her neck. What would it be like to bite him, to feel him shuddering his pleasure into her body while she drank down his blood?

Above the crashing sea, a rumble of thunder rolled over Keldar. The Wall trembled beneath their feet. Zahak jerked his head up, scanning the horizon.

It was darker than before, like a great light had gone out all over the world.  Banked by clouds, the moon disappeared from the midnight sky.

“What is it?“

A blast knocked Eleni stumbling backwards. He tumbled with her, using his body to shield her, the scimitar in his hand. On the ground, people shouted, asking what was happening. She had no idea. A storm? Water tossed and sprayed below, but there wasn’t any rain.

Dread crawled up her spine. Her teeth chattered, but sweat trickled between her breasts and down her back. Her scalp burned as though she’d fallen into a smithy’s furnace.

Rhythmic thunder. That’s what it sounded like. Or…flapping wings.

A thrumming call vibrated through the ground, small rocks rolling, the massive Wall shimmering beneath her feet. Her bones and ears ached. A huge shape darkened the waters. A ship?  She didn’t see sails, but the sound, the flapping…

A red-robed priest seized her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh like claws.  She jerked away, closer to Zahak.

Amin stood with the priest, his eyes feverish and shining in the darkness.  “What color?  Is it Agni?”

“No flames.” The priest whispered in a moaning voice that sent goose bumps racing down her arms. “It’s not Agni.” He turned mournful eyes to her.  Why?  She didn’t understand their Trinity’s prophesies and dreadful judgment.  “Shadow lives and breathes in Keldar once more.”

The dark shape soared over the Wall, another blast of wind and sound knocking the watchers to the packed top. Grit blowing in her eyes, she caught only a glimpse of monstrous wings against the sky, blackest against black, glittering eyes and claws like obsidian. With another roar, the beast disappeared into Keldar.

People screamed; warriors shouted; weapons clashed.

Zahak threw her up on her trembling, sweating horse. “Mambas attack in the wake of Yama’s arrival, and they accuse us of having too much black blood!”

They hurried down the steep ramp as quickly as they dared. Dazed, Eleni concentrated on her horse’s footing, but she felt sick. Images of the huge dragon tore through her mind, twisting her thoughts to Shadow, Darius, her tainted blood. She heard her brother’s dark, silky laughter in her skull. Was it her imagination? Or was he somehow tied to that horrible beast that had just flown overhead?

Zahak waved his hand back to the southwest. “Go to my tent!”

Then he was gone, rushing to his men with the scimitar in one hand and a short blade in the other. Black-robed warriors fought and ran everywhere, staggering back and forth, falling. Bodies littered the ground.

Her stomach churned, burning and queasy, and she regretted the large cup of Fire Tea she’d drunk. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. Where was his tent?  She glanced in the direction he’d gone, then back to the dark shapes against the wall, the tents, she guessed. Numbly, she knew she couldn’t recognize which tent was his.

Her mind roiled: Darius.  Was that dragon somehow her fault?

Someone took her horse’s lead, slipping a rope beneath the mare’s chin in her halter. In the darkness, Eleni couldn’t tell who. Harry jerked into a trot after the other horse, jarring her out of her confused fog.

They were going in the wrong direction. They were headed back out into the desert.

Amin hated her. What if...

Terror screamed through her, raking claws up and down her spine. “Who are you?”

The man glanced back at her a moment and she caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight.  Not Amin, but Malum.  Her shoulders sagged with relief.  The man was Zahak’s friend.

Then the horses moved into a canter out into the dunes.

“Why aren’t you helping your saif?  The battle—”

“Be quiet,” he growled, reining his horse back beside hers.  He reached for her with a length of rope in his hands.

Slamming her elbow back into his face, she kicked her horse.  “Harry, go!  Go!”

The rangy mare’s ears flickered back and forth but her pace didn’t change.  Malum cursed beneath his breath, seized her wrist in a punishing grip, and threw a loop around her other wrist so quickly she couldn’t jerk away.

The rope bit into her flesh.  “What are you doing?”

“What he cannot.”

She couldn’t see where they were going, other than out to the desert, away from the Wall, away from Zahak.  Her mind whirled with plots and questions.  How could she get away when her stupid horse wouldn’t listen?  When she had no idea where they were going?  “Tell me, please, what does that mean?”

The man’s response was to drag her along faster than ever, the mare charging behind his mount.

Panic ate at her heart, a deep, sick feeling of loss and despair.  :Zahak.:

:Azharana.:  Instantly, he filled her mind, his senses alert and focused like bared steel. :Where are you?:

:Malum is taking me away from you.:

Rage flooded her, thick and red and hot.  She heard a roar, whether in her head or real she couldn’t tell.

Malum flinched, his gaze flickering back to her.  Eyes narrowed, he studied her, listening.  “I can’t have you telling him.  Not yet.”

“Then—”

His fist slammed against the back of her head.  Pain exploded.  She fought to stay conscious, to stay with Zahak, but darkness closed.

Darius waited in darkness.

NINE

Bright.  Hot.  Pain.

Eleni cracked open an eye against the blazing sun.  She tried to get up, but her arms and legs wouldn’t move.  She couldn’t, she saw, when she lifted her head.  She was staked out on the sand, face down, her arms stretched out on either side of her and tied so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingers, or her toes.

Naked.

Fire blazed up and down her back and thighs.  She must have been out here for quite some time.  She tried to tell how far the sun was in the sky, but from this angle, she couldn’t estimate the time of day.

Listening for anyone who might be about, she tried to remember what had happened. It returned to her in pieces: the black dragon soaring over the wall, the battle, Malum taking her away. She tried to call out, but her throat was as dry as the sand beneath her. She flicked her thick tongue across her dry, cracked lips. She’d been out here a while, then, to be so thirsty.

Her head splintered, images slamming into her. Zahak, his shadowed, hollowed face in the moonlight, his need for her to mark him. In their last moment together, she’d refused him. Her reasons seemed so paltry and foolish now. If she’d known she would never see him again, that she’d die before nightfall, then she would have marked him a dozen times, her brother be damned.

Concentrating, she willed the pain away and tried to reach out to him. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t? Was it pain blocking her, or was he gone, hurt or…dead?

Hearing her own panting, wheezing cries, she deliberately calmed her breathing. She strained her neck, raising her head as much as possible to scan the area. A cliff of some sort rose a few feet away. Nothing looked familiar, but then she could have walked right past Zahak’s tent as easily without distinguishing it.

The ground vibrated beneath her cheek. She listened, her heart hammering so loudly it took several moments before she could make out hoof beats. A horse!  She tried to call out, but her voice croaked.

:Zahak!:

Something rustled, shifting from out of her line of sight. A man, and without the cloak pulled up around his head, she recognized him: Malum. Deliberately out of her line of sight, the bastard had stood there, watching her roast in the heat.

Rage poured through her, stealing her breath. She struggled, yanking at the bonds tying her, ignoring the pain in her wrists and ankles.

She heard a voice, one she also recognized although she couldn’t understand the words. Amin squatted down beside her, tilting his head and smiling an odd, crooked smile that curdled her stomach. He let his gaze travel down the length of her body, and there was nothing she could do. “Hmmm, seems as though the little munakura has quite the sunburn. What do you think, Malum? Will she survive until the dragon rouses at dusk? Or will she already be dead when he eats her?”

“Is that what you plan?” Her derision was clear, even through the husky tones of her voice, but her stomach quivered and clutched with dread at the thought of a dragon ripping her limb from limb.  She shuddered, forcing herself to concentrate on reading Amin. “Why?  Don’t you want to be azi? You heard your priests. You’ll need me.”

“I don’t need you, woman. The priests don’t tell us everything, but dreams do.  I’ve dreamed the answer to our problem, not Shaddad’Agni. That old fool knows nothing.”

She remembered the fear in Amin’s eyes, his adamant refusals in the tent. “What has he told you?”

Amin jerked to his feet, his pacing stirring up enough dust that she coughed.  “Nothing you will live to hear.”

“Shadow speaks in dreams, Amin.”

He turned milk pale, his hands clenching into fists.

Ah, she was right. “Does the Shadow whisper to you, Amin? Does it whisper to kill your brother before he can take your place? That your brother plots against you? You know it’s a lie. Zahak would have died for you.”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Amin howled, striding toward her. He reared back to kick her in the head, but Malum knocked him back. Furious, Amin turned on him, but the other man stared at him dispassionately.

“You have no weapon, tal. I’m your saif’s right hand. Do you really want to dance the blades with me? I’ll be pleased to provide you with a scimitar.”

“She’s going to die anyway,” Amin muttered, backing down. His face flooded red, sweat beading his upper lip. “Better she die now before Zahak awakens, assuming that he ever does, that is.”

“What did you do to him?” She searched Amin’s face, fear clutching her heart.  Her neck ached, straining to keep her head up so she could see him. “Is he hurt?”

That same brittle smile twisted Malum’s face. “Our saif will kill the Black Dragon for you, isn’t that right, tal? Only, I wonder how you knew He’d be black and not red when you told me to take her.”

Amin stalked out of her sight, but she heard him cursing beneath his breath.  Malum squatted down and poured water into his cupped hand, holding it beneath her mouth. She averted her face, but he didn’t withdraw.

“I won’t allow you to die, if you but cooperate with me.” He pitched his voice low so the other man didn’t hear. “I won’t let tal hurt you.”

“But the dragon...”

“He’s sleeping for hours yet. I pray saif will arrive early, but I don’t know how badly his brother injured him.”

“Why?” She wanted to cry, tears thick in her throat, choking her, but she didn’t have enough liquid in her body. It would be stupid not to drink and buy herself as much time as possible. She was not stupid. Eleni drank, greedily, slurping water from the traitor’s hand like a horse.  He filled his palm again and again, letting her drink her fill of the warm, stale liquid.  “Why did you do this?”

“I did what he could not.”

Which made no sense to her.“Who, Amin?”

“La,” Malum growled, shaking his head. “He’s a fool. The only reason he lives yet is because he’s saif’s brother, and none dares face Zahak’s wrath.”

“Then why?”

“Saif will be forced to kill his brother to protect you.”

She struggled to understand Malum’s reasoning. “But he’ll kill you too.”

“Iyeh.”Malum actually grinned. “It’ll be worth it, though, to get rid of his brother. The Cobras will have the best tal, who will go on to become azi, with you at his side.”

“You’re crazy. I’ve never heard such a stupid plan before in my entire life.”

Malum laughed softly and moved away. “Welcome to Keldar.”

* * *

Zahak tried to sit up and his head exploded. He remembered the battle, Mambas attacking, but then nothing but blackness, and now, this pain. A hand pushed him back, low murmurs soothing, but panic raged through him, tearing at his heart and soul. It wasn’t her hand. She wasn’t here. “Eleni!”

“Ishtay, saif. You took a severe blow to the head; you’ve been unconscious for hours.”

Blinking fiercely, he focused on the priest. His skull throbbed with every beat of his heart. Another memory stabbed through his aching skull. His brother coming to him, the urgency on his face, one whispered word. Eleni. Whirling toward his tent, he’d taken a step, then a crushing blow to his head. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone, saif.”

He closed his eyes, his chest banded with agony. His voice broke. “Is she alive?”

“You would know if she were not.”

Forcing himself to calm his breathing, he concentrated on her shining midnight eyes, her quiet, calm pride, her fragile jasmine scent. Thoughts splintered, pain slicing like shards of shale, but he could feel her.

Her relief flooded him. :Blessed Lady, you’re alive!:

:Azharana.: He strained harder, trying to reach her. Well of sands, she must be a hard, long ride away. :As soon as I can ride, I’ll come for you.:

:You’re hurt.: Her gentle spirit flowed through him, and he swore he felt her hand on his forehead. The connection strengthened enough for him to see what the jackals had done to her.

She was chained face down in the sand. Her naked back was burned from hours in the cruel sun, split skin leaking blood every time she moved.

Rage choked him and his heart thundered, making the pain in his head worse.  He pushed up and nearly vomited. The tent rolled crazily, and Shaddad’Agni forced him to lay back. For a moment, he couldn’t reach her bond through the fogging pain.

Her soft, fragile touch slipped through him, urgency maddening him when he was incapacitated in the face of such dire need.

:Amin said the dragon will be waking up soon.:

Horror churned his stomach, bile burning his throat. All too easily, he imagined her fragile white skin, shredded, torn apart, a dragon snout buried in her stomach, cracking her bones.

With an endless howl of rage, his dragon stretched, bulging outward, furious in its need to protect its mate. His back arched, his lungs seized, his heels drummed the floor, yet he dared not surrender to the Fire within. His own beast might do as much damage to her as the Black.

“How long till dusk?”

“An hour.”

Desperation pounded a frantic tempo in his head, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He couldn’t reach her in time. Nothing he did would prevent the massive dragon that had flown overhead in the night from killing her. Nothing.

:Don’t come.: Urgency vibrated through her. :It’s a trap. Your brother…:

:Amin will die for ever laying a hand on you. I will find a way to reach you.:

He blocked her cry to stay away and protect himself. Looking up at the priest, he was surprised by tears on the old man’s cheeks.

“Amin surrendered to his fears. Will you do the same, saif? Will you let your fears kill the White who will lead you to victory?”

“What do you know about his fears?”

Shaddad’Agni’s eyes closed, pain flickering across his face. “I saw a dreadful choice that your brother would have to make. I counseled him closely over the years, but I should have known that nothing I could say would persuade him otherwise. A vision from Agni never misleads, no matter how much we battle our fates.”

Zahak almost asked about his own fears, but he knew full well the priest saw the darkest corners of his heart. Anyone who remembered his father knew the dra’gwar son’s greatest fear. Now Eleni would be eaten by a dragon anyway.

Shaddad’Agni leaned down, shadows hollowing his face. “There is a way, if you dare.”

Clenching his jaws, Zahak fought the curse in his blood. “I dare not transform without her mark to balance me. Besides, I have no desire to remain a dragon the rest of my days while she lives alone.”

“There is precedence. She might be able to use her White power to pull you back.”

“Without her mark, though…” He shuddered, the memory of his mother’s blood on his father’s dragon scales too much to bear. “She said she has no power, that she’s not a true Daughter. Besides, she’s extremely reluctant to mark me for fear Shadow may use it against us.”

“Iyeh, the Shadow.” The priest swallowed hard, his eyes large and dark.  “Shadow hunts for her in dreams.”

“Her brother torments her in dreams where I cannot protect her.”

“What if you could?”

Zahak frowned, struggling to think through the blinding pain. “How?”

“The Shadow stalking her dreams is the same as the Black Dragon. It’s the same spirit, the same dark essence. All of that hatred and darkest lust has become physical, mocking our heritage, using our devalki against us. Instead of the Red Dragon coming to Burn the world, the Black has come to corrupt us even more.  Kill the Black, and you kill the Shadow preparing to engulf her. Kill this Shadow in the dream world, and the Black Dragon will be no more.”

“How can I enter her dreams?”

“I can send you to her dream, but do not accept lightly. What happens in the dream will mirror our world. If you die there, you’ll die here. If you transform to your dragon there, you’ll be a dragon here, too. You will fight two battles at once.  Lose one, and lose her forever to Shadow.”

“Send me to her.”

Shaddad’Agni picked up a small cup and helped him raise his head. “This will help speed your healing as well. As soon as you fall asleep, use your bond to seek her out. Tell her, now, to fall asleep so you may draw the Shadow out of hiding.”

:I need you to sleep, azharana.:

He felt the cold wash of fear in her mind, the terror shivering through her.  :Darius...:

:There are two ways I can reach you. I can transform to a dragon, fly to fight the Black and hope that I don’t eat you as readily. Or I can come to your dream. The priest assures me he can send me to you.:

:But the dragon won’t be in my dream.:

:Trust me.:

She answered immediately. :All right, I’ll find a way.:

* * *

Oh, what irony.  After all these years of fearing to sleep, jerking awake at the smallest hint of a dream, now she needed to sleep, and she couldn’t.

Her tongue felt thick and swollen in her mouth despite the water Malum had given her. He dared not give her much when Amin was paying attention, which unfortunately, had been often in the later hours of the afternoon. Lying here like a slab of meat in the oven, her back had long since crisped, and split, and burned again. Every little shift was agony, skin and muscle pulling apart.  Falling asleep was physically impossible.

She had one chance.

“Amin!” Her voice sounded terrible, barely more than a whisper, but she knew he heard. His boots shifted in the sand not three feet from her head. “For the last time, release me before Zahak comes.”

“Why should I?” She could hear the sneer in his voice, as well as the dread.

“You’re afraid of him.”

“Shut your mouth, munakura. You know nothing about me!”

“I know you’re afraid of your brother. Your voice shakes like a little girl’s whenever you speak of him.”

Muttering, Amin paced back and forth, deliberately kicking grit in her face.

“You thought he’d be here by now, right?” She tried to laugh but it sounded more like a cough. “The dragon’s going to wake up soon. Who’s going to keep it from eating you first?”

“He’ll be too busy eating you to care about me.”

She forced another wheezing laugh from her parched mouth. “Did you see the size of that monster? I’m just his appetizer. You’ll be the main course.”

“The priest foretold...” Amin squatted down to search her face, his eyes wild.  “What do you know about the dragon? What did they tell you?”

Shadows clung to him with the skittering sound of rats in a dungeon and the stink of fear and sweat. Amin was terrified, but not of his brother. Staring into his face, she knew the certainty in her words. “He’s come for you.”

“Shut up!” Amin glared at her, but his hands shook as he rubbed his face.  “You don’t know. You can’t.”

“He whispers in your dreams.” The man blanched, and she suddenly knew why Zahak would come to battle the dragon in her dream. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but Darius must be the Black Dragon. It made so much sense.

Raising her head as much as she could, she laughed in the man’s face. “Shadow is coming for you, Amin, and your big brother isn’t here to save you.”

He reared back and slammed his fist into her face.

Darkness closed around her, and for the first time in her life, she welcomed it.

TEN

Her arms ached and black rock bit into her cheek and stomach. Chained against the Spire as she’d been chained to the desert floor, she fought to pull free. Terror crawled through her, shredding her nerves. The black rock felt nastily hungry against her naked flesh. It abraded her so it could taste her blood. Tugging and straining in vain, she finally sagged in the chains, panting for breath.

She had to be calm and think. First, she needed to call Zahak to this terrible place so he could free her.

At that thought, she felt his bond roar to life inside her stronger than ever. In her mind, he galloped toward her on his rangy horse, the black cloak flapping about him like wings. An internal bonfire seared her already scorched skin. Concentrating, she brought the flames under control and reached for him.

:I’m coming, azharana.: Although he felt miles away in this dreamscape, the hoof beats pounded in her skull. :Is Darius with you?:

:Not yet.: Her skin itched with nerves, terror making her breath short and fast. He could be standing behind her and she wouldn’t know. He’d relish finding her like this, trapped and helpless for his little games. :Hurry!:

Zahak leaned low over his horse’s neck, flying over the night sands.

“Isn’t this delicious.”

Eleni froze, her heart stuttering in her chest.

“Most impressive. I certainly do appreciate your Keldari’s sense of sacrifice. I’m very pleased, dearest.”

Pressing her cheek against the Spire, she kept her eyes squeezed shut.  She didn’t want to see the horrible amusement and lust darkening his gaze. :He’s here.:

Grim silence was her answer from Zahak, but his bond rang like drawn steel, cold, furious, and viciously sharp.

Darius came to stand directly behind her, so close she could feel the taint rolling off him. The stench of death and rot gagged her. He dipped his head, deliberately trying to catch her gaze, but she huddled closer to the foul rock.  Chuckling, he touched her, just the trail of his fingers from her wrist, to her elbow, up her arm. Pain seared through her despite his gentleness.

Shuddering behind her, he sucked in a low, deep breath. “Ah, yes, such pain.  Such fear. Will you taste as delicious as I remember? Or has the savage tainted your sweet blood?”

His breath heated her shoulder, stinging the burns. Her heart tried to pound out of her chest; thundering blood roared in her ears. Even here in the dream, her tongue felt like a wad of cotton. She tried to swallow, to say something, anything, to distract him, but the whimper of pain and fear only excited him.

“I’m going to taste your blood,” he whispered. “Don’t move, don’t fight me, and I won’t hurt you, at least not yet.”

She erupted, fighting the chains and screaming raggedly. She kicked, threw her head back, anything to discourage him. Flames roared through her veins; Zahak’s rage was a hot, thick red glow in the corner of her mind, growing with every beat of her heart.

Bleeding from scratches all over the front of her body, she collapsed against the rock. Sweat dripped into her eyes and burned down her poor back.

Darius took a long, loud sniff and laughed. “Ah, fresh blood to flavor your pain. How delightful.”

His mouth touched her neck, his tongue trailing across her shoulder. Her mind skittered, thoughts jumbled, blackness soaking into her pores. Flames danced inside her, though, fierce and strong, magical and lovely in their destruction. They incinerated her fears and burned away her weakness until her thoughts were crystal clear.

Her heart filled with Zahak, the warmth in his eyes, the tenderness in his hands. Wind rushed through her mind, wings pounding, soaring through a midnight sky. She was wrapped around him, spiraling higher where nothing could touch her, nothing except the pure, silver light of the full moon and the kiss of clean, cool night.

Darius hissed in frustration. He growled against her skin, his teeth ripping open her burned flesh. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the man riding toward her, the man who carried her heart with such tenderness.

“You can’t hurt me.” Her words rang loud and strong, sending a resonating pulse through her body. “You can’t touch my heart.”

“Lies,” Darius roared. His fingers closed around her wrists, squeezing painfully, while he ground himself against her back, tearing her flesh open. “Am I touching you now? Are you hurting now?”

“I love Zahak saif’Cobra! I’m his azharana, and you can’t touch me!”

Her brother sank his teeth into her shoulder. The blow felt like a thousand-pound boulder had slammed into her. Her arm went numb, her fingers tingled, and her head buzzed, thoughts distant and disconnected. Shadow slithered into her from that bite, pushed deeper by Darius.

This was more than a bite. He’d marked her with his taint. Her heart slowed, throbbing sluggish and heavy, struggling to force congealing blood through her veins. Cold, black despair crept through her body with Darius’s power. She knew the taint spread toward her heart, but she couldn’t think how to stop it.

Darius's mark: he’d put his mark in her shoulder, just as Zahak had bitten her throat. Flames burned to blackness. Her fractured mind tried to connect thoughts. Why would Darius need to put his mark on her after all this time? Why would he order her to mark Zahak, when he must know she’d try to protect her lover and refuse?

Powers fought within her, tugging on her will, her mind, her heart, tearing her apart. Zahak was so close, holding on to his humanity with that fearsome control of the saif, when what he really wanted to do was soar into the sky, dark wings outstretched, and rend their enemies limb from limb, yet he dared not.

But why?

Fisting a hand in her hair, Darius jerked her face up off the black rock and pressed his right palm against her mouth. Although she wasn’t screaming, she thought he meant to silence her, until she tasted the blood, her brother’s foul, tainted blood. Choking, she tried to spit it out and refuse his bond, but it was too late.  Shadow claimed another foothold in her mind, creeping ever deeper toward her heart.

His sly, wicked laughter turned to a roar as his body shifted to scales and wings, massive, a weight to crush the world. His thoughts snaked through her mind. :So much for your great love, dearest sister. Watch me eat him limb from limb.:

* * *

Drawn by her terror, Zahak pushed through the dream so hard the landscape blurred, the horse disappeared, until he stood in the center of Keldar, beneath the Spire of Despair.

His dragon bulged outward, thrashing in fury at the sight of his chained, vulnerable mate. Her back was burned black, streaked with blood dripping to the sands. Her brother, now the Black Dragon, ravaged her shoulder, tearing her damaged flesh even more while thrusting his black, foul power into her.

Zahak felt his own mark in her neck burning, trying to counteract the Shadow soaking into her. Blistering with fire, he concentrated his dragon on that mark.  She screamed, but not with pain. He answered, the dragon throwing its head back with savage joy.

The big black beast turned toward him, evil red eyes blazing with hatred.  With a wing span of thirty paces or more, his head to tail length equally great, the Black was the biggest dragon he’d ever seen. The deserts of Keldar didn’t grow them so big. It couldn’t without such sparse resources.

This dragon had fed well and often.

He fed on Eleni’s dreams, on her blood, on her fears.

But Shadow would feed no more.

Centering himself, Zahak drew the scimitar and short blade. His caged dragon paced and lashed its tail, furious and desperate to fight the opposing male. He ignored it and focused all his efforts on the massive Black. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

Spewing acrid smoke and poison, the beast rushed at him, tail snapping back and forth. Zahak stood firm until the last possible moment, then threw himself to the side, rolling to his back and slashing the scaled underbelly flowing above him.  Dragons instinctively fled from such a deadly threat, but not this Black.  Bellowing, it tried to drop its full bulk on him.

Shaken, Zahak scrambled out from beneath the crushing scales. Claws sliced into his side, foul breath close, choking him. He rolled, drawing the curved blade against the armored hide, managing a small cut at the weaker joint of the front leg.

Most dragons would have reared up and tended to their wounds, roaring with fury. The Black certainly roared, but it sounded more like laughter. It didn’t pause at all. Whirling around, the big Black used its tail to knock Zahak into the side of the cliff.  Ribs creaking, he concentrated on breathing as the tail slammed him again and again.

Well of sand, dragons don’t fight like this!

He threw himself forward into a rolling crouch, ducking beneath the tail again. Still laughing that terrible roar, the Black returned to slicing with teeth and claws. Going on the offensive, Zahak fought close, using the scimitar to block the razor claws. He let the beast tear into his arm and chest so he could get the short blade closer to the baleful eyes, but he missed.

Left arm hanging useless and dripping blood with every step, he finally thrust the short blade into the beast’s sinuous neck. The Black shrieked and withdrew.

Zahak ran to Eleni and hacked at the chains binding her to the Spire. The chains had eaten into her flesh, burning her skin as black as the sun had done. The rock itself had torn her flesh.  The dragon bite on her shoulder was inflamed, already festering with fever.

Struggling to catch his breath, he tugged on the chains desperately, watching for the beast to attack again. Blood, he was losing too much blood, and he hadn’t delivered a mortal wound. His mind whirled, trying to find the best way to kill the beast.

“You can’t win this way.” Her voice was raw and hoarse, aching with love.

Refusing to meet her gaze, he used the scimitar to pry the foul metal up out of her wrist, wincing at her cry of pain. If nothing else, he would get her free, perhaps send her back to the waking world. But the dragon waited for her, there, too.

Great Agni, what can I do to save her?

Yanking her wrist free of the corrosive chain, she cupped his cheek with her palm, forcing him to look into her eyes. “You’re losing, aren’t you?”

“He’s like any other dragon,” Zahak lied, forcing lightness to his voice.

“No, he’s not. You’re wounded, and this is his power, his dream. You need more.” Her gaze hardened, those gorgeous shining eyes capturing him in their brilliance. She fisted a hand in his hair and jerked him closer. Her scent filled his nose, sweet night blooming jasmine, and his heart bled, the dragon shrieking in agony.

I can’t bear to lose her.

“I love you, Zahak saif’Cobra,” she whispered in his ear.

And then she sank her teeth into his neck.

* * *

Please, please let this work.

Braced for the Fire in his blood, Eleni let the fierce pleasure wash over her. It felt wondrously right to put her mark on him, a sign of possession. His mark in her neck throbbed, matching their heartbeats. His dragon roared through the bond, calling to its mate. Wild, free, vicious, the beast reveled in her teeth, her hunger for the blood pouring into her mouth.

And she did hunger for it. His essence filled her—fire, roasted spice, jasmine, warrior—blended together in his life’s blood. Always the protector, the one who sacrificed, who hardened himself to shield those weaker than he, Zahak could not shield her from his need. He needed this, regardless of the battle, regardless of the Black Dragon.

She wished she’d given it to him earlier.

Hauling her against his body, he shielded her from the Black, even while drawing her tighter into his seductive power. His flames danced inside her, but they were different this time. Still powerful, searing in intensity, they glowed with the pearly light of the silvered full moon above.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Her mind raced with hope. Had her power from Our Blessed Lady’s blood come to her at last? Why now?

She knew the answer. It was the same thing that had kept her heart and soul safe from Darius, the same protective mark that now sealed Zahak to her through their blood bond, an anchor while his dragon raged. Power swelled in her heart, liquid rainbows, cool silver flickering flames, shining in the darkest Shadow.

Words tumbled through her mind, a sense of urgency pressing against her skull.  She couldn’t remember the exact phrasing, but she didn’t think his Gods would care.

:You gave me blood to save my life. You shared the Fire in your heart and wiped away my dark memories of torture and pain. You took my body and gave yours as readily as your heart. I love you, Zahak saif’Cobra.  I’m Given to you.:

The sound of rending metal screeched through her body, claws shredding her mind. Howling fury ripped Zahak away, black scales twisting and writhing around his blades. But Darius didn’t care about the metal piercing his body. All he cared about was reaching her.

:I will rip your heart out of your chest and eat it while you still live! You are mine. Mine!:

She took a step away from the Spire, gathering her courage, her power, shining like a beacon in the nightmare. Yanking her arms free of the chains, she raised her splayed hands, spreading light. The Black Dragon flinched, hissing.

Something wasn’t right. The world thinned, the dream tearing away.

Zahak bellowed. :Eleni!:

Two dragons roaring a challenge.

:My heart beats for you!:

ELEVEN

Choking, she blinked water out of her eyes.  Had Zahak heard her call?

Malum crouched beside her, the whites of his eyes startling against his bronzed skin. “The Black is awake, and very, very pissed.”

The ground shook with the Black Dragon’s roars, his tail slamming the ground in fury.

Malum helped her to her feet and dragged her hobbling across the sands. Each step was agony, the skin and muscle tearing down her thighs, the back of her knees. Whimpering and crying with each step, she forced her feet to move. “Where’s Amin?”

“The little pista ran for shelter as soon as the Black roared.” Malum kept her on her feet, supporting her elbow, while he scanned the cliff.  “Our only hope is to find a crack in the rock small enough the Black can’t get through, but large enough for us to hide in. Since He doesn’t breathe fire, we ought to be safe if we can find shelter.”

Pebbles rained down on their heads. The Black scaled the cliff, hanging upside down, talons rending long furrows in the rock face.  Limping, she quickened her pace, ignoring the hot trail of blood dripping down her back and legs.

Malum unsheathed his scimitar. “Where’s saif?”

“I don’t know.” She felt him, the bond stronger than ever. Liquid Fire roared in her veins, a hammering force of nature. “He’s coming. I think…I think he’s a dragon now.”

Malum closed his eyes, his face lined with sorrow. “My sincerest regrets, then, Eleni. I had hoped you would have many happy years together. Who will lead the Keldari now?”

Amin leaped out of a shallow cleft in the rock, his knife flashing toward the other warrior’s throat. “I will be azi!”

Whirling aside gracefully, Malum drew the wicked curved blade across the man’s abdomen.

Gasping, Amin, clutched his stomach, eyes wild. “Go ahead!  Finish me!”

“You’re not worth facing the saif’s wrath.”

“Coward!  Kill me if you dare!”

“He’s afraid,” Eleni whispered. More rocks rained down on them, and all three heads jerked up to keep an eye on the furious Dragon stalking them. “He wants you to kill him before Shadow claims him.”

Amin rushed at her, his face pale and sweaty. “Lies, all lies!”

Malum tripped him and he sprawled on the sands.

She realized Amin was weeping. Ignoring the other man’s hissed warning, she crouched down beside Amin. Tearing pain drew her breath in short, ragged pants. “It’s not too late for you. You can turn away from Shadow.”

“Like you?”

She flinched from his words, the rage in his eyes. What had she ever done to him to warrant such hatred? “I was born tainted with Shadow, but I don’t choose to live my life in darkness.”

“You were supposed to be mine! Yet my brother took you from me, just like he took our father’s love. Then he let our mother die, and I had no one!”

“You had him.” Disgust sharpened her voice. “He protected you and sacrificed for you his entire life, and you lie here sniveling like a child. Get up and fight, Amin. Or die like the coward you are.”

Bellowing, he pushed up from the sands and lunged toward her. Crippled by her burns, she threw herself aside. He crawled after her, madness swirling in his gaze.

Malum tackled him, both warriors rolling, kicking, blades flashing.

A startled cry, a deep grunt of hatred, and Amin stood over the other man.

Leaning up, Malum looked down at the knife buried in his stomach and laughed, choking on blood. “Wells, I never expected that.”

Face twisted with fear and determination, Amin picked up the fallen scimitar and hacked at the other man’s head. Hands shaking, he missed Malum’s neck and sliced his shoulder and jaw. Malum screamed, cursing and taunting even until the end.

Horrified, Eleni backed away. Death was all around. There was so much hatred. She couldn’t breathe for the despair welling in her chest. Her arms and legs felt cold and heavy, as though she’d swallowed the horrid Dragon Piss again.  She forced her leaden body to function, to turn, to take one step. Another. She had to get away. She must delay the Black Dragon and Amin until Zahak arrived.

“It’s you!” Amin screamed behind her, forcing her into a staggering run. “He came for you, not me! You!”

Footsteps pounded behind her, his frantic, ragged breathing loud.  She tried to run faster, but her burned legs would hardly move and she couldn’t feel her feet at all.  She tripped and fell, slamming her teeth together.

Amin grabbed her ankle, fingers slipping in the blood.  She kicked him in the face with her other foot and fought free.  Scrambling, she pushed to her hands and knees, trying to get to her feet, but he fell on top of her.

With a hand squeezing her throat, he whispered into her ear.  “Do you love him?”

She nodded, mind whirling, trying to think of a way to fight him off.

“And he loves you.”

It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway.

“Good.  So when I kill you, it’ll hurt him.”

“Why?”  She croaked, her throat aching with the pressure of his fingers.  “He loves you.”

“You think I speak of Zahak?”  Amin laughed, a wild, raw sound closer to weeping.  “He let our mother die.  He’s just like our father: dragon spawn.  But I’ll kill you to hurt him.”  His shuddering fear was sharp in her nose.  “The Black wants you most of all.”

A low, throbbing call made her bones vibrate.  Rushing wind, a flap of fabric, Amin turned his head…and suddenly he was lifted away.

The Black Dragon had ripped him off her back.  Rubbing her eyes free of sand, she staggered to her feet.

Amin screamed.  One of his arms hung from the dragon’s spiked snout.  A small pop, and the Black tossed its head back, swallowing the limb.

Bile burned her throat, her stomach churning.  She swore the damned beast laughed, jaws gaping in a horrible parody of a smile.

The Black grabbed Amin’s other arm, holding it delicately in his jaws while slowly turning that massive head to look at her. Red eyes glowing with malice, the Black winked at her and then ripped the man’s arm off.

Swaying, Eleni fought not to throw up. Darkness swirled inside her, heavy Shadow waiting to swallow her whole. No matter how many times she witnessed her brother’s depravity, it sickened her every single time. He could have put Amin out of his misery easily with a swipe of those cruel talons. Instead, the Black slowly tormented the man, delaying his own feast to cause as much pain and terror as possible.

An image filled her mind, scales writhing against her skin, coils wrapped around her flesh, strangling, pain, ripping. :Wait until you see what I have planned for you, dearest.:

Stumbling into a run, she fled. She felt Zahak in the distance, but he was still miles away. Every breath was agony, each step ripping her charred flesh, but she couldn’t stand there and watch. Not again. Not ever again.

Panting, she staggered, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. Sweat dripped between her bare breasts, stinging the cuts and burns even more. Red flickered about her, a soft glow of fire in the night. Dazed with pain and exhaustion, she ran onward, her breath loud to her ears. The soles of her feet burned on the sand, her back and legs split open, bleeding, smelling like roasted meat.

Fire licked at her ribcage, scalding her veins, heating her burned flesh even more. Heat smoked through her, flames curling through her body, shimmering the air about her.

Pressure increased, making it difficult for her to breathe. Every beat of her heart rang like a gong in her head. Fire filled her, roaring in her ears, melting her bones, turning her blood to molten lava. Gritting her teeth, she fought to hold it in, to keep from blowing apart into millions of pieces.

:Such power.:

Awe filled Darius’s voice in her head, and a little fear.

:You were born to Shadow, dearest. This power is mine to command.:

She laughed, a dry, painful croak. “My heart was as blackened as my back, charred by hatred and despair all those years I lived with you. But love grew from that wasteland, Darius.”

Fragile hope sprouted from that wasteland, too, a tiny green shoot curling to the silvered moon. If she stood beneath the full moon now with arms open wide, would Our Blessed Lady acknowledge her?

Darius’s laughter splintered through her mind, slicing like broken glass. :Do you think that bitch goddess cares about you? Do you think anybody can stop me from devouring you?  You’re tainted, Eleni. As tainted as me. Shadow runs in your veins, not love, not hope. You’re mine.:

Those last words echoed, crashing and thundering in her head until she thought her skull would crack open. Doubt shimmered through that hope, tearing the fragile dream apart. She could never escape the Shadow.

A massive pyramid of a dune blocked her path. Crawling, sinking to her elbows and knees in slipping sands, she fought her way toward the top. Tears and blood dripped into the dry sands, watering the barren ground.

She’d spent her whole life in shadows, cowering in fear and dreading to draw her brother’s attention. Watching the darkness swallow him whole, she’d felt it nibbling in the corners of her mind, tainting her dreams a little more every single day.

At the top, she sagged, head down, shoulders heaving with sobs and exertion.  The night was silent, yet screaming with tension. There was no light, no hope, just this red flare about her, the fire bubbling up within her.

:Azharana.:

The suffocating weight of despair broke, crumbling away at Zahak’s touch in her mind. She lifted her head, scanning the night sky. Clouds cloaked the moon, casting shadows upon the sands.

Shadows. Shivering, she pushed back to her knees and wrapped her arms around herself. She strained her eyes and ears. She knew the Black Dragon was there. Dread shrieked through her, a blade flaying flesh from her bones.

:Eleni: Darius’s voice crawled through the shadows engulfing her mind, but it was the massive bulk of a dragon that slid into view. His voice was raw, vulnerable, laced with fear. :Armies march closer to Shanhasson every day.  I need your help. You’re my only family in this world.  My only hope.:

Head down, neck snaking along the sand, the Black crept across the dune, wings rustling. His claws sliced through the sand like gleaming obsidian knives.

:Please, dearest. Don’t leave me to fight them alone.:

Images of civil war filled her mind, of Darius trapped behind the Shining Walls of Shanhasson while Princess Jenna gathered forces against him; army after army, war after war, his alliances crumbling away. She saw him kneeling on the Great Seal, his hands bound behind his back.

The nobles stood in an arc before him, grim faced, a mob of righteous fury.  The princess he’d forced into marriage after slaughtering her brother clutched Darius’s infant son to her breast. Would they kill his son as he’d killed the last heir to the High Throne?

Our Blessed Lady’s priests decried him as tainted blood, fouling the High Throne. Beside him on the Seal, the Rose Crown gleamed, wreathed roses of gold.  Eleni had never dared to look at it, let alone to put it on her head. She wasn’t a true Daughter. She had no power despite the Lady’s blood in her veins.

Darius wept, pleading for his life, begging for mercy. She knew he wouldn’t receive any.

:Save me, Eleni. Save me from this darkness.:

The Black was only feet away, still slinking closer in mock submission. She had no weapon, no hope of escape. She had nothing left but the love of a warrior, his blood in her veins, his Fire in her heart. She had his tenderness as testimony, his gentle touch, his willingness to protect and sacrifice.

:I love you, Zahak. Whatever happens.:

A dragon roared, his call echoing across the desert. The Black’s lips curled away from vicious teeth, black tongue snaking out to taste the blood on the sands.

:So far away.: Darius crooned in her mind. :You’re so alone. So weak. Broken. Bleeding.:

:You’re trapped, Darius. As trapped and alone as I.:

He shrieked in her head as the Black Dragon shredded the ground with its claws.

:You’re weak. Your reign is broken, your plans destroyed. Soon you’ll be bleeding on the Great Seal, gasping your last breath. And what will you say to the Gods when They claim your soul?:

Above, the clouds parted. Silvered moonlight danced across the sands, falling like rainbows on the obsidian scales. Thrashing, the Black howled, twisting to escape.

Eleni pushed to her feet. Molten lava boiled higher, her skin tight and hot, steaming, her body ready to explode. “You’re not going to hurt anybody again, not even me.”

Throwing her head back, she opened her arms and released the Fire. Raging flames exploded from her mouth on a ragged scream. Ripped open, pouring flames, she fell to her knees, crying, even while Fire roared higher. The world was red, flickering flames, wound with moonlight glittering like diamonds.

Snarling, the Black writhed and smoked beneath her power. He couldn’t fight free. He couldn’t bear the touch of the moon or the magical flames.

:Eleni!  I love you too much to ever hurt you again! Help me, please!:

She remembered the pain, the beatings, and the constant terror.  She pushed all those terrible memories into the flames and let the fire purify her mind and heart. “You can’t hurt me any longer, Darius.”

Rearing up, the Black opened its jaws and lunged for her across the wall of flames. With a furious roar, another dragon dropped out of the night sky. With red scales striped with black, the Red landed on the Black’s broad back and seized the sinuous neck in crushing jaws. Claws shredding, both dragons bellowed while her flames roared higher and higher. Her power didn’t hurt the Red at all. In fact, Zahak’s dragon drew strength from it, growing stronger and larger while moonlight gleamed on his scales.

Eleni gave him everything she had, all her love, all her strength, all her hopes and dreams and fears; all her grief, her fear, the darkest nightmares of her brother. The Fire left her, trickling to nothing. Without the heat of the magical flames, her teeth chattered. She sank to the sand, cold and tired. The Black Dragon gave one last cry, cut off, choking, and the Red roared with victory.

In her mind, she saw Darius sprawled on the Great Seal, blood pouring from a fatal neck wound.

:Dearest.: His overwhelming soul-deep terror washed over her. Darius’s voice changed, fragile, shaken, the voice of the little boy who’d cowered with her beneath their beds until the worst of their father’s rage died. :Shadow calls me home.:

It was over. Her brother was dead. He’d never hurt anybody again.

Staring up at the full moon, she knew Our Blessed Lady smiled down on her, even while weeping for another soul lost forever to Shadow. Magic bathed her skin, sweet dreams and hope. Pain eased, wiped away by the Lady’s touch. Liquid silver flooded her veins.

Gasping, Eleni arched her back, fingers clutching at the sands. Her back and legs itched, flesh crawling and knitting into place. Sinking into a cool wellspring of magic, she heard one sweet whisper.

:MY DAUGHTER.:

TWELVE

Eleni awoke to a dragon face peering down at her.

Staring into his amber eyes, she wondered if Zahak knew her. Did anything of the man she loved remain in the beast?  She sat up carefully, bracing for pain. Tightness lingered in her back, but she didn’t hurt.  Purring a low rumble, the Red lowered his head and rubbed against her shoulder and chest. An image filled her mind, night sky, stars swirling, flying higher than the moon, wrapped in his embrace.

:Bright eyes.:

He didn’t speak the words exactly, but she knew what he meant. In his dragon mind, her eyes glowed like captured stars.

Tears burned and she wrapped her arms around the Red’s neck, holding that massive head close to her. “Can you transform back?”

He pulled away, filling her mind with images of the tents, the Wall, people. He wanted to go back to the camp. Since the horses had likely fled while the two fighting dragons roared with fury, she couldn’t argue.

She refused to even contemplate his friend’s sorrow that Zahak had shifted to this form. They’d been through hell and back, betrayed by their brothers, nearly swallowed by Shadow entirely.

Love had saved them. Love would save them again.

Gingerly, she stood without too much difficulty. How badly was she hurt? Dread filled her as she twisted around to see the backs of her legs.  Lines of scarring ran behind her knees, disappearing up her thighs and down the back of her calves, shimmering pearly white in the moonlight.  It was thick, tougher, she decided, poking a finger at the scars, a testament to what she’d endured. No pain remained, so she took a limping step, then another.  Although still stiff, she was healed.

A ripple stirred deep in her heart, a wellspring of moonlight lit with flames.

The Red Dragon crouched, raising his wing out of the way so she could scramble on his back.  Clumsily, she did so, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold on.  He took several running steps and leaped into the air.  Her stomach dropped and she clutched him harder, afraid to look, afraid to fall into the darkness.

Diamonds glittered in her mind, stars against velvet black, gleaming sands below.  The vision he gave her was so beautiful that she forced herself to open her eyes.  He flew smoothly, his wings beating in a slow but powerful stroke.  Gorgeously lit by the full moon, the rolling sand dunes stole her breath. The air was crisp and clear, the night sky wondrous.

Joy bubbled up from her heart in laughter.  How long had she lived in darkness and Shadow, afraid?  And now, for the first time in her life, she had something to live for, someone to love.

Zahak climbed higher, spiraling and spinning until she laughed out loud.  If she were a dragon, she’d cling to him, all four legs wrapped around him while he carried them higher, spiraling in pleasure.

In a moment of ultimate trust, she let go of his neck, slipping from his back as he spun.  He caught her against his chest, claws carefully digging into her skin.  His dragon heart beat strong against her cheek, his purring rumble vibrating through her body.

All too soon, he dipped down through the lightening sky, winding toward the tents huddled against the Wall.  Sentries shouted.  Black robed warriors raced across the sands, pointing their scimitars at the sky.  Zahak landed on the perimeter, setting her down gently on her feet.

People shouted, running toward them.

Staring into his gleaming eyes, she stroked a hand down his wide, scaled forehead.  “Thank you for a wondrous ride.  I wish...”

She couldn’t find the words, so she concentrated on building the picture in her mind.  Wings furling, white and red, both streaked with black, but soaring toward the moon anyway, with love, such love, wrapped around each other in a spinning, dizzying dance.

“She’s alive!”

Shouts fell silent.

What she wouldn’t do for some clothing.  She refused to cower, though, even naked and burned.  Turning, she noted the fear on the people’s faces, the awe in their eyes as they took in the freshly healed scars.

The priest walked toward them slowly, his face soft with reverence. “The Black?”

“He ate Amin, but we defeated him in the end.”

Nodding, the priest turned toward the people and raised his voice. “Behold!  The White survives! She walks from the sands at dawn with a Red beside her!  The prophesy is true. Agni Comes.”

The fiery sun climbed in the sky and a rumbling roar sent people scurrying for shelter. A shape blocked the sun, dark against the dawn and dwarfing Zahak’s dragon. Flames poured from the sky and set the Wall ablaze. Screaming, wailing, the people fell to the ground, prostrating themselves before the fury of a God.

A voice like rolling thunder crashed across the dunes. :TO SURVIVE MY ENDLESS FIRE, BRING ME MY WHITE.:

The priest turned startled eyes to her. Zahak slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. He crouched over her and roared a warning at his God.

:NOT THIS DAUGHTER WHO IS CLAIMED BY MY SON. SEARCH THE LANDS BEYOND AND FIND THE UNCLAIMED WHITE DESTINED FOR ME.  ONLY SHE CAN SPARE THE REMNANT FROM MY FIRE. WITHOUT HER, YOU WILL SUFFER MY ETERNAL FLAMES.:

Blasting fire, Agni spun in a slow circle above them, directing flames at the other dragon. Zahak roared and writhed above Eleni, holy fire burning away his flesh. He tried to fling her aside to spare her, but she clung to him.

:If you die, take me with you. I won’t live without you.:

Smoke choked her, heat seared her, but she held to him. Scales rained down, his agony ringing in her head. Wracked in pain, he collapsed to the sands, rolling away from her. Even now, he tried to protect her.

She held firm, arms around his thrashing neck, and prayed. She remembered the silvered moon shining down, Our Blessed Lady’s approval. She was Her Daughter, blessed with Her White blood, Her power.

Moonlight filled her, blending with Zahak’s flames. She drew on that well of magical quicksilver and pushed power through their bond. She would protect him, now, with the power and strength of her love.

Wreathed in Fire, she held him in the glow of the full moon. She held him while his dragon body burned away, leaving the human warrior behind. With one final trumpeting roar, Agni flew deeper into the desert.

Cradling Zahak’s head in her lap, she brushed his hair out of his face, tracing the new red marks burned into his cheek, down his neck, across his chest: the mark of his God’s approval. He jerked awake, his chest heaving on the first deep breath of air. Coughing, he drew her close. “Azharana.”

Eleni smiled and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. “Are you well?”

“You’re alive, I’m alive, our enemies are dead. I want for nothing more.”

He sat up and drew her into his arms.  She laid her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart, strong and sure and hers.

“Azi, Azharana.”  On his knees, the priest touched his lips, forehead, and heart. “My water and my life are yours.”

One by one, other warriors did the same, from many different tribes if the colors on their headdresses and tattoos on their cheeks were any indication.  Zahak allowed it, but she felt the grimness growing in his heart. He’d never wanted this responsibility, but now that it was his, he would shield his people with the last breath in his body. The weight of his new title pressed on him, stone by stone, face by face, life by life.

Determined to lighten his mood, Eleni waited until the last warrior bowed and walked away. “So, azi, what do we do now?”

“I must bring Tellan to us, and the other tribes which refused to come to the Wall. Then we must heed Agni’s Call.” He shook his head, his face hard and grim.  “It means war against the munakuri. Not just your people, but any tribes that might shelter Somma’s blood. None will surrender their Daughters easily, and I don’t relish sacrificing innocent women to Him. War, bloodshed, grim days indeed. We—”

Eleni stood and drew him up with her. “I have some dirty deeds to complete first, azi. Can you make me your saif?”

“You, saif?” He chuckled, drawing her into the shelter of his body as he led the way to his tent. “You can’t even find my tent without assistance.”

“Any tent will do.”

Growling, he picked her up. “Only my tent will do, azharana.”

“I want to mark you again, azi.” she whispered, nibbling on his ear. “I need you, just for tonight.”

“Iyeh, tonight and forever.”

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