Aislinn Kerry – Sacrifice

Sacrifice Aislinn Kerry (c) 2009

Sacrifice Aislinn Kerry Published 2009 ISBN 978-1-59578-630-2 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2009, Aislinn Kerry. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Suz deMello Cover Artist Anne Cain This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Blurb When an unnatural eclipse hangs in the sky, portending doom, Ryllana is chosen to be sacrificed to ensure her land and her people's survival. She expects her fate will bring a swift, violent death at the claws of the god Teppal's beast. But though the beast comes to claim her, he does not devour her. Instead, he carries her away to his castle. There, she waits for him to return and demand the sacrifice required of her. In the meantime, she finds a companion in the beast's human servant, Draig, who surprises Ryllana with his tenderness and compassion. Despite herself, she begins to fall for him— but the beast still waits, and the secrets Draig is keeping might destroy everything she loves.

Chapter One I knelt in a white gown, the hard, wood floor biting into my knees. I didn't pray, but I bowed my head before the altar all the same. I had no prayers left in me to give, nothing left to say to our gods, who had demanded this thing of me. For two weeks I had prayed, and received no answer. The women of the town sang all around me, songs of joy and renewal, and I knelt in the center of their circle and tried not to cry. I had cried when the prophets had come to me, a fortnight before. We had all known something like this was coming, of course. We learned from our first breath that Teppal, our lord of the sun, had been locked in combat for millennia with Nelru, goddess of the moon. Nelru was covetous and not content to rule the night as it had been given to her. She sent her champion, the great beast who sat at her right hand, to claim Teppal’s realm for her own, and Teppal’s own beast met her in battle. And there they have remained, locked in battle for centuries on end. As children, our parents assured us that it would always be so, that Teppal could not fall. When we grew older and began to study the prophecies, we learned otherwise. For the prophets had written that one day, the strength of Teppal’s beast would fail him, and the battle would turn in Nelru’s favor. When that day came, they wrote, it would fall to the people to bolster their lord and the strength of his champion. We must sacrifice our fairest and brightest maiden to the jaws of Teppal’s beast. Her strength would join the beast’s, and in this way he would be able to rise against Nelru and force back her advance. They assured us that without her, the beast would fall and Teppal would fail. Nelru’s darkness would smother the land. Our world would perish. We all learned these stories, as our parents had, as their parents had. And much like each generation before us, we never believed that it might come to pass in our lifetime. I had stood with the others, gaping up at the sky as Nelru had eclipsed our sun and cast the midday lands into twilight, and even then I did not consider that I might be chosen. I was neither the most beautiful nor the most accomplished girl in our village. I was only little Ryllana, who liked her books more than she did proper maidenly pursuits. But the sages had selected Halrik from among their ranks to bear the solemn burden of this choice, and he had fancied me in our youth. It was supposed to be a great honor to be Chosen, the one mortal who would save our lord and his demesne, who would secure Teppal’s victory. And so, when the choice fell to Halrik, he chose me. They had come for me and I had wept, reaching out for my mother. She had put her hands on my cheeks, kissed my brow, and whispered against my skin, "The Chosen must be strong, for her strength is Teppal's." All my childhood they'd lectured us on the importance of saving our bodies for our husbands. If I'd known they'd make an exception for the end of the world, I'd have let the neighbor’s boy carry me off to his bed the summer before, instead of fighting him off and earning myself a black eye and a bruise to the ribs. Better a village lad with his callused hands and rough touch than the claws of Teppal's beast. "The Chosen must be strong," I whispered now, kneeling on the temple floor as the

prophets bound my arms with rope, "or her cowardice shall doom us all." It was a meager comfort, but no one had offered me better. The women stopped singing and the prophets pulled me to my feet. They led me outside, into what should have been the brightness of midday, but the sun did not shine down on us. The eclipse glared down at us like a malevolent eye, ringed with Teppal's flame. I looked at it only once, then dropped my gaze in fear, and did not raise it again. Dust clung to the soles of my slippers and the hem of my gown, staining them as I walked. They brought me to the clearing. A wooden post had been erected, broad and sturdy, carved around its base with depictions of fearsome beasts. As a child, my mother had coaxed obedience from me by warning that Teppal's beast would snatch me up if I misbehaved. All the mothers of the town did. And, being a child, I had obeyed but never truly believed that my own mother would allow such a thing to happen. The town had gathered in the clearing to witness their salvation, and I could not look at them for fear I would see her there, her once-loving face sternly forbidding me weakness as they traded my life away. My eyes were dry, as they should be. I would be strong because I must, because to be craven would not save me from my fate. But if I saw her, I thought I would crumble. The prophets bound me to the post as the eclipse looked down from its zenith. The town huddled closer, casting fearful looks at the darkened sky, then at me. Strong winds whipped through the glade, tearing at my unbound hair and the snowy gown they'd dressed me in. A hush fell over the crowd around me, deafening in its sudden silence. I looked up, straining against my bonds. Heavy black wings blocked what little light remained in the day. They stroked in slow, rhythmic beats, stirring the air around the glade into turbulence. The trees around us shook, their branches rattling like bones. Fear froze my breath in my throat, and at the last moment, I found I had prayers left in me after all. "Please." The words were snatched from my lips by the winds of the beast's wingstrokes. "Please, let it be swift. Let it be done." The crowd around me murmured, all of us gazing up at it, then screamed and scattered as the shadow swooped from the sky. Claws like iron tore through my bonds and lifted me into the sky with a lurch. The glade fell away beneath us until the people scrambling around within it—they had been friends, family, neighbors once—seemed like mice, and then like insects. And then we left the glade behind us, and I could not see them at all. I cowered in the beast's grip, his claws like massive bars in an impossible cage. I kept my hands clapped over my eyes, terrified by our height. Would he toss me about up here, playing with me like a cat with its prey? Why did he not kill me and be done with it? The stroke of his wings through the air was a tangible pulse, as real and steady as a heartbeat, pounding in my ears. Every moment, I expected that he would swoop down to some field or pasture and finish the rite. Every moment for hours, I lay curled in his grip with my heart in my throat, paralyzed with fear. I could not sustain it. Such constant, encompassing fear wearies a person, and after hours of it, I was exhausted. I let my hands drop and looked down through the gaps

between the beast's claws at the landscape rolling by below us, verdant hills and snaking rivers and milling herds of sheep. My home was far behind us, and I did not recognize this place. I could only guess at how much time passed as we flew. But if I had not believed the prophets before, the sight of the eclipse traveling through the sky to rest on the horizon would have been enough to convince me a hundred times over. The sun and moon remained locked together in combat as they traveled the heavens. I had seen eclipses before in my life, but they had always been brief things, and the two always parted quickly to resume their orbits. They had been battles, skirmishes. This was no battle, but a full-scale war. I was to be the first casualty, and, if the prophecies held true, the last. My death, to prevent countless others. Goddess protect me, I prayed, appealing to the Great Mother, who held all women in her hand. Guide me to the gates of your kingdom, that I may trade this end for an eternity of peace by your side. I have always been faithful to you. Do not forsake me now. We flew over hills and lakes and mountains and rivers. Sometime in the late hours of the day, as the eclipse came to rest on the western horizon, my exhaustion claimed me, and I fell into a fitful sleep in the beast's claws. I awoke in a candle-lit bedchamber. Light from the flames danced across the walls and cast deep shadows upon the room. I lay in the center of a canopied bed. My ceremonial white gown had been traded for a black silk robe with a crimson sash. Someone had been here with me. Someone other than the beast, who surely could not have managed such a delicate task as dressing a woman. Someone human. My heart leapt at the opportunity to speak with someone, anyone. I had not thought to ever have the chance again. I rose and tied the robe tightly around myself. "Hello? Is anyone here?" Something rustled in the shadows. I spun to face it, but saw only inky blackness. "Who's there?" A quiet, masculine voice answered me. "It is I." I wrapped my arms beneath my breasts to hide the fact that I was trembling. I could not even have said why. "Show yourself." For a heartbeat, I received no answer. Then, softly, tinged with a hint of amusement, "As you wish." A figure formed out of the darkness. A man of my age, with thick black hair that fell to his shoulders and the sort of chiseled features that would have made the ladies swoon back home. I had been forsaken, carried in a beast's claws for hours upon end, and dressed by an utter stranger while I was sleeping. I yearned for companionship, but I was in no mood for swooning. "Who are you?" A hint of a smile curved his mouth. "I am here to see to your comfort. That is enough for now." "Comfort?" I echoed, wondering why he cared for the comfort of a woman about to be sacrificed. He inclined his head. "They will pain you, if they are not treated." I raised my hands and saw the abrasions that circled my wrists, rope burns from when the beast had torn me from my bindings. They were angry and inflamed, and he was right. They would hurt.

I sat down on the bed and indicated for him to join me, because I didn't know what else to do. I did not dare to imagine that Teppal's beast intended to delay my sacrifice long enough for superficial wounds to bother me, but I could not bring myself to reject any kindness that might be offered to me. I held my wrists out to the stranger. He took them with a gentle touch, his fingertips hot on my skin. From a silver tray at the foot of the bed, he retrieved an ointment jar and spread salve upon my wounds. It smelled of pungent herbs and reminded me too much of home. I turned my face aside, struggling against tears. Silly, I chided myself. It was silly to cry now, at the simple kindness of a stranger, when I had not wept before. The rite had not yet been completed. I must remain strong, now more than ever. When he'd finished, he carefully set my arms back in my lap. He reached for me, then hesitated. "There are others," he said. "The rope about your waist—" "No." My cheeks burned. I shied away from him. He shrugged a shoulder and replaced the jar. "Are you hungry, then? Thirsty?" A small bowl on the tray bore a variety of crisp, fresh fruit. A pitcher held water cleaner than any we drew from our well. I ran my hands over my arms and shook my head. I had fasted since the day before my sacrifice, but the knowledge of my impending death turned my stomach to knots, and I had no appetite. The man's shrewd gaze noticed my gesture. "You are cold?" "No." I dropped my hands to my lap, embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerability. "Not tired, surely. You slept for hours." I blew out a sigh of frustration. "No, not tired, either." I shook my head. "I do not need to be coddled." He slid down the bed, closing the distance I had put between us. His side brushed mine, and the press of his muscles beneath his tunic made my heart trip within my chest. "Not hungry, nor cold, nor tired." He rested his hand against my waist. I stared at him, too shocked to move. His eyes were inquiring, his touch gentle. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over the silk at my waist. "You have other needs, then?" His face was so close to mine, it was all I could see. My heart beat like a caged bird beneath my breast. His touch felt … peculiar. Unexpected. But pleasant all the same. I had not expected to know pleasure again before I died. I did not know what to do with it, now that it was offered to me. Slowly, trembling and shocked at my own forwardness, I reached a hand out and touched his cheek. Stubble abraded my fingertips, and that, too, was nice. I took his hand from my waist and pressed his callused fingers to my lips. He stared at me intently, his nostrils flaring with each breath, and I had to look away. I didn't know how long I had left to live. Anyone at home would call it wantonness, but I could not bring myself to tell him no and send him away. I did not want to be alone. I did not want to be afraid. He brushed his thumb over my lips and slipped his hand around to the back of my neck, urging me closer. "This is a yes?" I leaned my brow against his and twisted strands of his hair around my fingers. "Tell me your name."

He was motionless, expressionless, for the length of several heartbeats. Then, slowly, he said, "I am called Draig." "Draig," I repeated quietly, trying out the sound of the name. I slipped a hand to his cheek and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and wild in the candlelight. "I'm Ryllana." "It is a pleasure, Ryllana." The rhythm of his words was both soothing and enticing. His voice rolled over me and I closed my eyes, wishing he would whisper sweetly to me for as long as this lasted. I felt him move, but didn't know what he intended until his lips pressed to mine, soft and warm. My eyes flew open. It was startling how close he was above me, his visage blurred and distorted by his proximity. His eyes were open, and fires smoldered in their depths. As I watched, they closed, and his hand came up to stroke my hair. He matched his mouth to mine and pressed a little closer, kissing me slowly. His breath brushed over my cheek, and my heart sped in response to it. Moist heat brushed over my lip, then flicked away. I slid my fingers around the back of Draig's neck and pulled him closer as I angled my mouth beneath his. Tentatively, I touched the tip of my tongue to his, following it as it traced along my lips. Draig made a quiet sound deep in his chest. His tongue dipped within my mouth, tracing along the tender flesh on the inside of my lip. I gasped, opening to him, letting him in deeper. I had never before kissed anyone who had taken such care, or shown such patience. He ventured further within my mouth, gliding his tongue along mine. My hand curved around the back of his neck, tangling in the fine strands of hair at his nape. "Draig.," I whispered against his mouth. He drew back and looked down at me. "Would you…" Inexperience made me stumble as I fought to explain concepts I had no name for, and a lifetime of ingrained modesty made my cheeks burn at my audacity. "That is… This is very nice, but I want … more." A slow smile spread across his face. Watching it, I shivered, but felt no fear. It was a smile full of heat and promises. He tightened his hand in my hair, tilting my head back. He pressed his lips beneath my jaw, a simple kiss that spread into a lazy, open-mouthed exploration of lips and teeth and tongue. He traveled up the line of my jaw to my earlobe, sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. I gasped, shocked at such exquisite sensations from such an innocuous part of my body. I loosened my hand from his hair and drew it down his neck to the curve of his shoulder. His skin burned beneath my touch. I slipped my fingers beneath his tunic, seeking more of his heat. His flesh was smooth and solid and completely entrancing. I wanted to explore all of it, every bit. I slid beneath the cloth and felt his heart race beneath my palm. Biting my lip with frustrated impatience, I tugged his tunic up his chest. But sudden insecurity gripped me, and I paused. I had kissed a man before, but I had never done this. I'd have been shunned for it, back home. I looked up at Draig, seeking … something. I didn't know what. Encouragement? Permission? What I found was heat. His eyes were filled with it, his expression intent with it. I

licked my lips instinctively and saw his gaze follow the movement of my tongue. I wondered if he wanted to kiss me again. I knew I wanted to kiss him. I drew his tunic up the rest of the way, and he raised his arms to help. And when it was gone, he brought one hand to my waist and the other to my back, and carefully eased me down onto the bed beneath him. I was not so distracted by the revelation of the muscled expanse of his torso that I missed the feeling of his hips lying heavily against mine. Heat spread through me, starting deep within the pit of my stomach and expanding until I felt I would combust from it. I lay a hand on his chest, feeling the play of muscles beneath my fingertips, and curled the other around his neck to draw his mouth to mine. He pressed me gently into the bed and stretched out atop me, forearms braced in the coverlet on either side of my head. His mouth was soft and warm and wet, tasting of cinnamon and smoky incense. I rose onto my elbows, pressing up into him, seeking more. His tongue teased mine, skating along its length and dancing away, tormenting me with hints of what I wanted, but never enough. I bit his lip in frustration. He groaned and moved against me, hips thrusting against mine, mouth claiming mine with a sudden urgency. I gasped, surprised at the intensity of his response, and dug my fingers into his shoulders. When he caught my lip and scraped it between his teeth, I understood. Heat shivered within me like a desert mirage. Hungry sounds slipped from my throat as I writhed beneath him. My hands moved restlessly over his chest, until he suddenly stiffened against me. I hesitated and pushed him back from the kiss. Looking up at him, I circled my fingers again over his beaded nipple and saw pleasure flit across his face. Emboldened, I slid my second hand down to his other nipple and caressed him with a firmer touch. The intensity of his gaze as he looked down at me was breathtaking. He allowed me to touch him for a few moments before he stopped me. "Ryllana." He circled my wrists with his fingers and stretched my arms up over my head. "This is about your needs. Not mine." "But I want to." His smile was radiant. It wrapped around me like the glow of the summer sun. "Is there nothing else you want?" he asked, pressing his hips into mine. "Yes," I said, "but—" His kiss cut off my words, and I forgot what I'd meant to say. I moaned and twisted beneath him, testing the strength of his hold on my wrists and kissing him as he kissed me, licking, nibbling, sucking. His taste filled my mouth, intoxicating. His lips and tongue elicited sensations and responses that I had only experienced in my fantasies. I gloried in the feel of his body pressing to mine and wondered at why I had been granted such a gift, and why it had come now, of all times.

Chapter Two Draig shifted, holding both my wrists in one hand and freeing the other, but never removed his mouth from mine. He slid his free hand through my hair, tugging lightly on the strands and causing a dull sensation of pain that only heightened my pleasure. He drew his hand down, fingers trailing over my neck and collar, to the low throat of my robe. His fingers lay in the valley just between my breasts and I stilled in anticipation. After a moment's hesitation, they continued their path down my body, over the silk, and I bit back a sound of frustration. When they stopped and worked at the knot tied in the robe's sash, I caught my breath and held myself very still, so as not to make his task more difficult. Draig shifted his body away from mine so as to give himself the room needed to untie it. My robe gaped open, revealing a line of flesh down the center of my body, from throat to thighs and everything between. He reared back, looking down at me with an appreciative gaze. Shocked at my brazenness, I arched and allowed the robe to part, revealing the rounded swell of my breasts. Draig drew in his breath slowly and regarded me with what I thought might have been awe. He returned his fingers to rest lightly on the sensitive skin between my breasts. I caught my lip between my teeth and pressed up into his palm. His fingers were slightly rough with calluses, and the texture was an agonizing pleasure. He cupped and caressed my breast, brushing over my nipple. He captured it between two fingers and exerted a firm pressure that echoed all the way through me. He released it, then pinched again, harder. I cried out and struggled to free my wrists from him. It was a futile effort, at best. I could no more push the moon from its position than I could release myself from his hold. He stilled at once. "Did I hurt you?" I opened my eyes and stared up at him. "Yes." He made to withdraw, but caught my gaze and hesitated. "Would you like me to stop?" "No. Please, don't." He smiled slowly. "As you like." The maddening pressure continued as he bent over me, pressing his lips to my breastbone. His breath was hot where it fluttered over my skin; the heat within me rose in response to it as he nuzzled against my covered breast, pushing off the thin fabric and baring it to the air. He blew lightly on my nipple, making it contract with a rush of desire, then bent low and drew it into his mouth. I twisted beneath him, wracked with need, as his tongue flicked over and around my nipple. He still wouldn't release my wrists, was still moving at a maddeningly slow pace. I needed so much more than he was giving me. I was sure he would drive me mad with it. Emboldened by the fierceness of my hunger for him, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled his hips hard against mine. He sucked in his breath. "You said you were here to see to my needs." I arched against him. He felt hard and ready beneath his trousers, and something within me shifted in response to it. "I am still in a great amount of need, Draig." He made a muffled sound against my breast. I twisted beneath him again. He raised

his head and kissed me. I recognized the desperation in him, for I felt it myself. I returned the kiss with all the passion and yearning that was within me, seeking desperately what he withheld. When he released my wrists, I brought them down to his waist and tugged his trousers down over his hips. He backed away from me to pull them off, affording me a chance to see him in his entirety. The sight of him, gilded in candlelight, stole my breath. He looked impossibly large, and I had only the vaguest knowledge of what was to come. It frightened me, but like the pain before which had enhanced the pleasure, the fear built my anticipation higher. When Draig returned, crawling over me, I wrapped my arms around his back and drew a leg over his hip, opening myself for him. On the brink of giving me everything that I yearned for, he hesitated. I groaned and smacked my fists against his shoulders. "Ryllana," he whispered, watching me with a pensive expression. "It will hurt." "I don't care." I twisted my fingers in his hair and pressed up against him. "Please—" There was pressure, then a sharp, burning pain. I sucked air through my teeth and Draig stilled above me. His expression was so sweetly worried that I wanted to kiss him. "It's all right," I whispered, running my hands over his face. "Please, don't stop." He moved slowly, and the discomfort began to ease, my body adjusting to fit with his. Pleasure swelled as he thrust into me, filling me. I clutched at him, moving with him. I was clumsy in my inexperience, but he simply smiled and brushed kisses over my face and helped me find his rhythm. It was all too much. Too hot, too intense, too full, too fast. I held him hard against me, straining toward something indefinable and just beyond my grasp. Our pace increased until we were both gasping, our skin sheened with sweat, muscles straining, but it was still out of reach. He rose off of me suddenly, pushing himself up while remaining lodged deep within me. He gripped my hips, lifting them off the bed, and the sensations that had been too much were suddenly even more. Hotter, sharper, sweeter. I grasped his forearms, trembling beneath him as the tension grew to impossible heights, the pleasure too much to bear. Then something snapped and my body was no longer mine to control. I shook beneath him as my muscles convulsed and exquisite, agonizing ecstasy pulsed through me, as hot and bright as the sun. As the shudders tremors eased and as I sank back onto the bed, exhausted and replete, Draig's motions within me slowed as well. He collapsed beside me and drew me on top of his chest. I lay contentedly, my cheek pillowed on his shoulder, and waited for my sensibilities to return to me. "And now how are your needs?" he murmured, stroking his hand along my cheek. I smiled and pressed closer into him. "What needs?" He chuckled, and the movement shifted him within me. I sucked in a breath as I realized that he was still hard inside of me. I levered myself up on an arm and looked down at him. "You didn't finish," I said, a hint of accusation in my voice. "Why'd you stop?" He nuzzled against my throat, his breath hot on my skin. "Your pleasure," he murmured. "Not mine."

I slid my hands down his back, enjoying the curve of his muscles beneath my fingers. I felt well-pleased, and quite sated. But the thought of ending with him unsatisfied made me frown with displeasure. "Do you not want me?" I traced the valley of his spine. He shivered. His hands tightened upon me. He pressed deeper into me and stole my breath. "Bright God," he groaned against my skin. "How could I not?" "Will you show me?" I curled my fingers through the dark strands of his hair. "It would please me to know what it's like to hold a man and bring him to his peak." He groaned again, wordless. His lips moved over my skin, and I dared to hope. I held him to me, fingers tight on his skin. He buried himself inside me. "Draig," I whispered as he moved. "Ah, Draig." The fire began to spread once more, though I hadn't thought there was anything left of me to consume. He murmured my name, and his eyes blinked open, dark and hot like banked coals. I touched his cheek, his throat, his arm. He mouthed silent words, like a prayer, and rocked his hips against mine. It was a warm fire, this one. It didn't rage and burn like the first. I curled my arms around Draig's back, held him close, and moved myself in time with him as he shuddered against me. His breath grew hoarse, his movements inelegant. The muscles stood out in his arms and chest, as hard as iron and as hot as molten lead. I skimmed kisses over his face as he strained. The air came from him like a sob, his hands fisted on the bedclothes. He cried out and locked his hips to mine, shuddering as he spent himself within me. It was a sweet moment. I closed my eyes, unsure whether I meant to hold it close or push it from me. Were he my husband and I his wife, we might have made a child between us with this. Even unwed, he might have given me a son or daughter, a babe to nurse and suckle. Draig tenderly kissed my cheek. I turned my face away. There would be no child. I would die before I'd ever know if one grew within me. My heart ached at the loss of this potential, turning the moment bittersweet. "Ryllana?" Draig brushed the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I drew a steadying breath and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed with the pleasure I'd brought him, but his brows were furrowed, his eyes concerned. "I'm all right," I said, and kissed his mouth. "Thank you, Draig. That was very nice." The Chosen must be strong. He pushed back from me with a sigh. "I shouldn't have let you convince me," he muttered. "No." I sat up, wrapping my robe around myself again. "I'm glad you did." He shook his head, obviously unconvinced. I touched his shoulder, turning him around to face me. "This morning, I had not thought to know any other pleasures in my life, only a violent death at the claws of Teppal's beast. And you gave me more than I could have asked for. So when I thank you, truly, you must believe me to be sincere." He took my face between his hands and brushed a light kiss over my lips. "Perhaps it is so," he murmured, not raising his head. "But I have brought you sorrow as well, and I'm sorry for that." I reached out to touch his hair, but he stood and moved away from me. I watched

him cross the room, until he stood in the center of it and turned back to me. "Anything you want," he said, all on a rush, as though if he did not get the words out at once, he might never get them out at all. "You have only to ask me, and I'll do everything in my power to provide it for you." I nodded slowly, and rose to my feet as well. I tied the sash of my robe at my waist, avoiding his gaze. "Am I… Am I a prisoner here?" He made a small sound, like he'd been struck. I looked up and found him staring at me, incredulous. "No!" he cried. "A prisoner, no—" "A guest, then, if you prefer it." A small, bitter smile twisted my lips. "In any case, I never assumed I'd be allowed to leave. What I meant was … am I permitted to leave my room?" "Of course. Would you like to?" I nodded and searched around the floor for footwear. At the end of the bed I found a pair of soft leather sandals, not my own, but when I slipped my feet into them they fit as though they had been made for me. I laced them, and straightened to face Draig. "I would like to see where I have been brought, if I may, before I am to be sacrificed to the beast." He features twisted with an expression of distaste, but he only opened the door and bowed before me. "Anywhere you would care to go, I will be happy to take you." I lifted my robe so the hem did not drag on the floor and stepped out of my chamber, into the corridor.

Chapter Three Our parents taught us that constellations were Teppal’s warriors, and comforted us with the knowledge that even in the darkest night, his light shone down on us. They shone down on me now, faint beacons of hope, reassurance that our god had not yet succumbed to Nelru's darkness. My sandals made quiet sounds against the flagstones that paved the garden paths. Nighttime had leeched the color from the flowers, casting everything in shades of blue and black. I stopped to bury my nose in a spray of lavender. With my eyes closed, the scent of summer washed over me, and I could almost remember the heat of the sun beating down upon my shoulders. Draig followed two paces behind me wherever I walked, silent but attentive. I disliked the sense that he was my gaoler, set to keep an eye on me lest I wander beyond the bounds of my confinement. But if I spoke to him, he would be kind and patient and concerned, and I could not bear it. I continued, following the path's circuit around the carefully structured flowerbeds. The aesthetic arrangements of the plants was lost in the monochrome night, but their perfume filled the garden. The splash of a fountain further ahead swept over us like music. I sat on the bench and let the perfume fill my lungs, the music fill my head. Two more pleasures, I thought. And I cannot even enjoy what I have for worry about what will come. I could not help but think that they had chosen the wrong maiden. I was nothing at all like I ought to be. If I seemed strong and brave, it was only an act. I felt no peace, and no satisfaction at the good my death would do. I knew only fear and bitterness, bottled tight within me so no one would see and know that I was unsuitable. Draig waited in the shadows, maintaining his distance, and his vigil. I slid to the end of the bench and patted the space next to me. He didn't speak, but settled at my side and took my hand in his. His palm burned against mine. I looked down at it, his long, weather-browned fingers twined through mine, as pale as milk. "I have not pleased you well enough," he murmured, brushing a caress across my cheek. "Why do you look so forlorn?" "Can you not guess?" I turned my face up to the darkened sky. He stroked his hands over my hair but said nothing for several moments. Finally, I could no longer contain the doubts that burned within me like a brand. I turned and caught his hands in mine. "Why does he do this? Why does he torment me? I had reconciled myself to die. Why does he send you to me, to show me kindness and passion, and make it so much harder to bear what must come?" "Torment? Ah, no." Draig slipped to his knees on the stones before me, clutching my hands. He turned his face up to me and the starlight shone upon it, turning it silver. "Do you not see? He wants you to have this happiness, Ryllana. Don't you think he knows the value of what he will take? This is his repayment." He cupped my cheek in his palm. I rubbed against it, taking what comfort I could in the touch. "He would give you some happiness, you see, to make up for the fear and pain." His voice cracked as he spoke. I reached to him, touched his cheeks, and my fingertips came away wet with his tears. "Why do you weep for me?"

He took my hands, pressed kisses to their palms. "How could I not?" I shook my head and looked away. "Do you know, I have not even wept for myself." His touch slid up my arms, rubbing gently as though I might be cold. "The night makes us melancholy. Would you not let me take you somewhere more cheerful?" My lips curved, but there was no pleasure in my smile. "What do you have that you think might cheer me?" "Only ask and it's yours. We have libraries, ballrooms, treasuries filled with gold and jewels the like of which you've never seen. We've stables filled with handsome horses, if you care to ride. We have kitchens, and a staff of cooks who could treat you to the finest meal you've ever tasted. Couturiers, whose fingers itch to create you a gown fit for a princess. Would it please you, lady? Only command it, and it will be done." "Oh, Draig." My breath hiccupped, caught halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I do not want you to commission me a death shroud." "What will you?" he murmured, head bowed. "Surely there's something you desire." I wiped my tears away, and put my damp palms on his cheeks. He looked up at me, beseeching. "I would like to smell a rose again," I told him. He grimaced. "Is there nothing more I can do for you?" "No." I smiled down at him. "Nothing would please me so well as that." Draig kissed my fingertips and rose to his feet. "Wait here, then, and I'll bring you your rose before you can think to miss me." He slipped away, disappearing into the dense shadows. I waited, trailing my fingers through the flowers that crowded around the bench. Draig returned a moment later, true to his word, and held a flower in his hands. He knelt before me again, this time in offering rather than supplication. I reached to take the rose from him. He hissed quietly, but the sound was as loud as a cry in the silence. My gaze flew up to his. "What's wrong?" He gave me a lopsided smile. "Nothing. A flesh wound, nothing more." I made a noise in my throat and set the rose on the bench, taking his hand in mine. Blood welled from the pad of his thumb, onyx in the starlight. I tried to wipe it clean, but it bled too much. "I'm sorry." I bent my head over it. "I didn't mean to hurt you." It seemed somehow profane, that I had brought harm to the one person who had shown me kindness, but Draig just laughed. "This? I'm not so frail. It's nothing." "It's your blood spilt at my behest. Don't call it nothing." He smiled up at me, his face radiant in the starlight. He shifted closer, and rose up on his knees so we were not so far apart. "A kiss, then, lady. For strength." I framed his face in my hands, but couldn't think of a protest. His breath was a sweet caress across my face, and I remembered the exquisite pleasure it had been to feel his lips on mine. I nodded acquiescence and bent toward him. He rose up, his hands sliding through my hair. His lips warmed mine, and what I had meant to be a brief kiss lingered, turned into something more complicated and intricate. He coaxed my mouth open, and slipped into it. I shivered, remembering the touch of his hands upon my skin and the pleasure he had brought me that I might not know again. I slipped off of the bench, kneeling on the flagstones with him. It was Draig who ended it. He drew back, exerting a gentle pressure on my shoulders when I would have followed after him. He looked down at me with a warm smile. "Ah,

perfect," he murmured, brushing over my cheekbones. "A kiss like that would provide strength enough for a thousand men." I rolled my eyes, but I could not hide my pleasure at the compliment. I took his hand up again, but it was clean of blood, the wound only a small dip in his skin. I frowned at it, surprised at the unexpected improvement. "You see?" Draig grinned and kissed the tip of my nose. "It is not a grievous wound." He picked the rose up and held it out to me again. I took it from him more carefully this time, and inhaled the familiar, delicate scent. My eyes closed of their own accord, and wistfulness swelled within me. Draig held my hands and wiped the tears from my cheeks when they fell, but said nothing. He asked no questions, made no demands of me, and for that I could have kissed him a hundred times more. "There were rosebushes outside my bedroom window at home," I whispered. My mother had planted them, and tended to them as I grew in her belly. I had been born in that room, with the smell of roses on the air. It was the scent of home, and safety, and love. Draig's fingers gave a small squeeze around my hands. "You are frightened?" he asked, barely more than a breath. I gave a choking laugh and shook my head. "I don't know what I am anymore! I did not expect … any of this." I gestured around me futilely, indicating Draig and the garden and the castle beyond it, everything that had happened since I woke in the chamber. "I thought I'd be dead and buried by now. Not sitting here with … with you, offering to give me anything my heart desires, except the one thing I would give up everything else to have." He knelt at my feet and gazed up at me, intent. "What have I denied you, lady? Ask it of me—I will see it done. What would you have?" "My life!" I cried, and broke into sobs, weeping the tears that had been forbidden me. "I would have my life. I would live." He looked away, and said nothing. What was there to say? He could not save me from my fate. I wept into my hands. It felt like hours, and left me a dry and brittle shell. I wiped the moisture from my cheeks and rose to my feet. "I'd like to go back now," I said dully, not looking at him. I hadn't the strength left to endure his pity. He rose with me, nodding slowly. "Yes. It's nearly dawn, and you should rest. I'll show you back." I followed after him, wretched and silent. He returned me to my chamber, then left me there with only a cursory farewell. When he had gone, I leaned back against the door and pressed my hands to my face with a sigh. In the days after I was Chosen, as they prepared me for the rite, the prophets instructed me on what to expect when I faced Teppal's beast, but they had not prepared me for this. I hated it, almost as much as I yearned for it. I pushed away from the door and staggered uncertainly to the bed. I curled myself beneath the coverlet, but though it was thick and warm, I could not stop shaking. The sun rose, and brought with it the thunderous sound of great wings from the courtyard. I lay in my bed and trembled, wishing for sleep, or peace, but unable to find either.

**** I woke with my heart hammering in my throat. I stared up at the gauze canopy above me, wondering what had caused me such panic. But there was no reason for it, none but the inevitable. At last, I gave up and slid from the bed, only to find myself frozen, dumbstruck. Vases crowded every corner of the chamber, overflowing with crimson roses. It was the scent that had discomfited me; every breath I drew was permeated with it. I gripped the bedpost, stunned and breathless. "Oh, Bright God…" I sank back down onto the end of the bed. The blossoms' heads bobbed gently in the draft, as though nodding at me. A fresh robe had been laid out at the foot of the bed. I drew it on with trembling hands, gagging on the roses' perfume and the memories that it forced upon me. Memories of my home and family, of squabbles with my brothers and nights spent trading secrets under the blankets with my sisters. Memories of my mother, who had loved me every day of my life, and who, when the prophets had come for me, had given me over to them and called me weak. I rushed from the room as soon as I had the robe tied, barefoot and uncaring. I knew nothing at all of the castle, but it didn't matter. I rushed through the halls, blinded by unshed tears, and only stopped when I turned a corner and nearly ran into someone. I reared back, shocked, and saw that it was a woman who stood before me, as startled to see me as I was her. She wore a servant's garb, drab and ill-fitting. I drew a breath and scrubbed my hands over my face. "I'm sorry," I said through my fingers. "I didn't see you." "I suppose you didn't," she said wryly. Then, after a moment's hesitation, "Is there aught I can do for you, my lady?" "Please," I said, without realizing what I meant to ask for. "Please, where is your lord?" She blinked at me for a moment. "Gone," she said at last. "Nelru has risen, and he's off to do battle." "Why does he not come to me?" I demanded. Her eyes widened. "Beg pardon, lady, but I thought he had." Frustration made me impatient and snappish, but she had done nothing to earn it from me. I fisted my hands in my hair and drew long, deep breaths until I had regained some composure. "Thank you," I said, as graciously as I could manage. "I am sorry. I seem to have gotten myself lost." "Would you like me to show you back to your rooms, my lady?" I shuddered and shied away instinctively. "No, thank you. If you would…Draig mentioned there were libraries?" The woman's brows drew together. "Draig said that, did he?" I hesitated, biting my lip. He had been kind to me, and I did not want to get him in trouble if he had spoken out of turn. "Should he not have?" She shrugged. "Oh, he can say whatever he pleases, I'm sure. Follow me, I'll show you to the main library." I trotted obediently at her heels until she left me before a set of broad paneled doors. I pushed them open, stepped inside, and found myself staring up at towering walls of books, stretching to a ceiling more than three stories above my head. I drew an unsteady

breath that carried with it the scent of dust and parchment, and cleared my lungs of the roses. I exhaled with a shudder, and stepped forward. My feet sank into the plush rug that covered the floor, my toes curling into the pile. I climbed a set of stairs to the balcony that ran around the room's perimeter, providing access to the upper reaches of the shelves, and began to run my fingers along the spines of the books. There were thousands of books here, too many to count in a day, too many to read in a lifetime. A thousand worlds in which to lose myself. I wanted to immerse myself in all of them, until there was nothing left of me to be taken. The titles that passed under my fingertips all sounded strange, old or exotic. Many were in languages I couldn't read, many more in alphabets I didn't even recognize. I pulled one of them from the shelf and sank into a chair, turning through pages filled with strange loops and swirls, symbols so elegant that the writing almost looked like art. I traced my fingers along the interconnected lines, marveling at the novelty and wondering what hand had written these lines. I had lived my life in the same small town, and never ventured further down the road than my cousin's farmstead. We had heard tales of foreign peoples, of cities beyond the mountains whose buildings rose like cliffs and who spoke in a language like music. I had not even thought to imagine what such a place might be like, so far was it from what I'd known. Now, I traced my fingers over the shapes of the unfamiliar letters and smelled the dust on the pages, and wondered at where it had come from, and what had brought it here, to rest upon my lap. I spent hours in the library, losing myself in the rhythms of the strange languages. At last, when my eyes tired and refused to focus on the incomprehensible symbols, I replaced the book on its shelf and ventured back out into the corridor. I tried to retrace my steps and remember the way the woman had brought me, but each hallway looked just like the others. Nerves made my heart speed within my chest, fueled by the irrational fear that I was lost and no one would ever find me. Surely there were too many halls for even an army of servants to search. I could not even find my way to a window, an exterior wall that would allow me to determine the bounds of the place. It seemed endless, halls stretching eternally in every direction, and I struggled with dueling urges to weep and laugh. The beast will come to demand my sacrifice, I thought, and not be able to find me. Eventually, somehow, I found the corridor that led to my chamber. The door was still open, the scent of roses pouring down the hall. I grimaced as I stepped into the room, greeted by the vases full of flowers. Sudden hatred boiled up within me, fierce and violent. I crossed the room with hurried steps and threw open the casement. The gardens stretched out below me, muted colors in the eclipsed light. I seized the closest vase and hurled it through the window. It shattered on the stones below, spraying flowers across the path. I threw another out, then a third, until the impacts became muffled by the carpet of flowers strewn about the garden. I threw out every vase in the room, too many to count, then leaned far out the casement and stared triumphantly down at the roses far below me, spreading across the garden path like a bloodstain. Victory was a fierce fire in my chest, and I felt inordinately pleased at my rash destruction. I felt powerful, as though I was finally in control of some aspect of my life. I sat on my bed, hands folded in my lap as the breeze cleared their scent from the room, and

burned with satisfaction. So I was when Draig found me, as the vibrant colors of sunset faded from my walls. He was half-smiling as he stepped into the room, but it only lasted a moment. He gazed around the chamber, looking bewildered. "That was cruel," I said, and was ashamed to hear my voice tremble. He turned to me. "I'm sorry?" "The roses." I drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. "It was cruel to torment me with them." "Torment?" His eyes widened. "I thought…that is…they were meant to please you, lady, not to torment!" "Please me." I gave a choking laugh. "You may tell your lord that it does not please me to be bribed, as though a bushel full of flowers could make me face my slaughter with joy and songs." Draig cringed and bowed his head. "He only meant to make you happy." "It would make me happy to be allowed to leave." "He cannot. Don't you understand?" "No!" I shot to my feet. "I do not understand why he would require an unwilling sacrifice, nor why he would demand one only to leave her to sit idle in his home for days on end. I do not understand why he toys with me so, why he won't just kill me and be done with it." I watched Draig's heart break in his eyes. "Because," he whispered, "he cannot bear to kill you." "Then he is a coward, as well as cruel." I turned away from him. When I looked again, he was gone.

Chapter Four When a servant brought my breakfast the next morning, I had her show me to the libraries again, and this time I paid attention, so I could find my way back later. She left me as the other woman had, standing before broad double doors carved in depictions of scenes from myth and legend, and others I could not place, but that fascinated me nonetheless. I slipped inside and retrieved my book of strange writing, but sat with it unopened upon my lap. After a few minutes, I set it aside unread and returned to the shelves with a new purpose. It took the better part of the morning to find the books I wanted, volumes on Teppal's beast and the conflict between the gods, because they had been tucked away on the highest shelves, reachable only by climbing the ladder and then carefully balancing them in my arm as I climbed back down, one-handed. When I had half a dozen stacked next to a plush armchair I deemed my search complete. I stood there in the center of the floor, gazing up at the shelves that reached many times a man's height above me, and wondered what else had been hidden amongst their heights, and why. Did the beast's servants dislike their master so greatly that they would hide any mention of him from their sight? For two weeks I had sat with our priests and sages, bathed in rosewater and anointed in oil and swathed in a gown of purest white, listening to their lectures about what I should expect when the time of my sacrifice came. But nothing they’d taught me had prepared me for the truth of it. They had said that Teppal’s beast was a frightful creature, ravenous and violent, and that when he came for me I would meet a swift end. And yet, I had not. I had not been killed, but carried far from home, and if what Draig had told me was true, he had left me alone these days because of his great reluctance to take my life. It was nothing like the priests had said, and I wanted to know the truth. Surely if I could find it anywhere, it was here in the beast’s own home. I sat with my books and pored over them, searching for some information about sacrifices to the beast. I wanted to know if the priests were wrong, and my stay here was to be expected, or if it was the beast’s prolonged absence that was unusual. Perhaps we had been wrong, and there was more to the rite, or the sacrifice must take place on a certain day, at a certain time. I did not know, but I wanted to—needed to, for my own sanity. But I could not find any mention of it. If there had been any sacrifices to Teppal's beast before mine, the books made no mention of it. Indeed, information about the beast was hard to come by at all, descriptions couched in vague, grandiose language. I began to wonder if any of the authors had ever seen the beast up close, or if they were extrapolating from what they had heard elsewhere, and glimpses snatched as he wheeled through the distant skies. In the end, I set them all away from me in disgust or impatience, having learned nothing that I had not already gleaned for myself. If there was a precedent for or purpose to this treatment, it continued to elude me. The servants brought lunch to me in the library, and a pot of tea at my request. When I raised my head, I realized that they'd brought me supper, too. The light outside the windows glowed scarlet with sunset. I set my books aside and rose, stiff from spending

the day in the same chair, unmoving. I stretched the knots from my spine and carried the meal back to my room. I sat in the casement before the open window, the plate balanced on my knees, watching the eclipse sink below the horizon. I picked at my meal and watched the stars come out, and wondered how to apologize to Draig for my outburst the night before. It did not occur to me to wonder if he would come to me at all, but as the night wore on, I began to realize that he was not, and marveled at the sense of loss that thought birthed within me. I set my empty plate on the bureau and curled beneath the blankets, feeling cold despite the luxurious down. I hoped that I had not chased him away for good, and that I would have the opportunity to apologize while I was still able. **** I could not stomach the idea of wading through a dozen more volumes, searching for information that did not seem to exist. So the next morning, instead of returning to my search of the library, I ventured outside, where cool morning air kissed my cheeks. I skirted around the gardens and traipsed out through the fields, my skirts hiked up about my knees. Despite Draig's assurances that I was not a prisoner, with every step I expected an alarm to be raised behind me, and servants to pour out in search of me. No cry came, and I continued out to the cluster of outbuildings I had seen from my bedroom window, curious to know what they housed. The first I came to was a mews with its distinctive slatted windows. A few hawks sat on perches in the adjoining weathering yard, watching me with their keen-eyed gazes. There was no falconer about overseeing them, so I edged cautiously up to the high fence and peered through its bars at the majestic creatures. The nearest one, a small kestrel, preened the feathers along its wing and every so often raised its head and looked at me before returning to its task. None of the birds were tethered, and as I stood there watching them, a few flew from one end of the yard to the other, wings beating the air in a faint mockery of the beast's heavy strokes. They seemed comfortable with their captivity, indifferent to the promise of freedom that lay just beyond the fence. I wondered that they did not seek an escape. The bars on my prison were invisible, intangible, and still I railed against them. I'd have left, if I thought it would do any good. If there had been anywhere for me to go. If there were not Draig and the hope to see him again, and assuage my conscience. Not far beyond the mews was a kennel, riotous with the clamoring of dogs. Lean, long-legged hounds danced at my approach, announcing it for all the world to hear, and wagged their tails so hard that their bodies shook from it. In a corner, a litter of tiny puppies nursed from their mother, crawling in a heap all over one another. I only tore my gaze away from them when the door swung open and a man strode out, and then I leapt away from the fence and tucked my hands behind my back, blushing furiously, as though I'd been caught stealing something more precious than a glimpse. For all my concern, though, he seemed neither alarmed nor hostile. He gave me a slight, bemused smile, and nodded as he said, "Good day, miss." "H-Hello," I stammered. "I was just looking…" A smile softened the rugged lines of his face. "You're welcome to take a closer look,

should you like. I could use some help at my chores." The idea of providing help, rather than simply strolling through as a visitor, seemed to me to be somehow more acceptable, less of an audacious breach of my place in the world. I nodded, relieved to have something for my hands to do other than turn dusty pages, and followed the houndsman inside. He told me his name was Belden as I helped him herd the dogs out of the large, communal pen and back into their individual homes. The nursing mother and her pups we left alone until all the rest had been housed, and then Belden and I sat. I watched while he lifted each in turn and inspected their bellies and teeth and ears. "They're growing nicely," he said at last, nodding with satisfaction. "They'll be bigger'n you are, before you know it." He dropped one in my lap and I jumped, squeaking with surprise. I looked down at the tiny pup, so small I could cradle him in both hands with room to spare. He rolled around gleefully in my lap. I stroked his soft, tawny fur and murmured, "I wish I'd be around to see it." Belden said nothing, only watched me shrewdly from the corners of his gaze, and I realized that I hadn't introduced myself. Did he know who I was, what I was meant for? Or did he think me just another member of the household? Was that why he was so kind to me? I bit my lip until it ached, knowing a lie by omission was a lie all the same, yet afraid to have this small bit of normalcy taken from me. "Well," he said at last. "That's as may be. But then, none of us expected you to be around this long in the first place, so who's to say?" I flushed, feeling a strange sort of vulnerability at the idea that he knew who I was, that he'd known all along. "I'm sorry." I held the pup out to pass back to him. "I should go—" "Oh, sit down," he said, and shifted several more of the puppies into my lap, so I had no choice. I sat there, covered in wriggling, ecstatic puppies, and stared at Belden helplessly, wishing he would let me leave and insulate myself in isolation. "Bright One, there's no need to fear me. Do you think I don't know what you're here for? We all do." "To die," I whispered through numb lips. He gave me an impatient look. "To save us. These pups…" He lifted one and tucked it against his chest, stroking beneath its tiny chin. "They wouldn't have a chance of growing up to be hunters, if not for you. My daughters would never grow up to find husbands and have children of their own. There's no need to fear us, miss. We're grateful to you." Tears burned in my eyes. I stared down at my lap, at the wriggling balls of fur that twisted within it. "It doesn't make it any easier," I said at last. If anything, the pressure of their expectations weighed down on me, making it harder to bear the burden that was already upon me. "No," he said, with a bit of a sigh. "I don't suppose it does." "The beast—He is—" I broke off and tucked my fists behind my back, as though the very mention of such a creature might taint the innocent puppies upon my lap. "Won't you tell me?" I asked on a desperate rush. "I don't know—I don't know what's to come, and no one will tell me." Belden's gaze slid away from me. I knew what his answer would be before he gave it. "No, miss. I can't tell you that. It hasn't happened in any of our lifetimes. I don't think it

has ever happened in his. I do not know what to tell you to expect. I do not know it my own self." I nodded, biting back a wave of frustration that pricked at the backs of my eyes. "Thank you." It came out like a gasp. I gently pushed the puppies from my lap and got unsteadily to my feet. "I should go. I—Thank you for being kind to me." He didn't try to stop me, but I felt his gaze upon my shoulders as I left. I continued in the direction I had been headed, along unknown paths and, when those failed me, through unknown fields, sketching a wide circle around the beast's home. I happened upon a stable and stopped when it was still in the distance. Horses were so precious and such a rare commodity where I'd come from that I did not dare disturb them. And I did not think I could endure any more of the kindness of strangers. I stood on a hillside, the wind tugging like fingers at my hair, and watched as the horses thrust their necks through the gaps in their paddock to lip at the long tendrils of grass that grew on the other side. Again, as before, no one came to rail at me and demand I leave them to their peace, but nevertheless a point came where I felt I had overstayed my welcome. I turned about and returned to the beast's keep, where I belonged. I still could not tolerate the idea of the library, and my room seemed empty and cold. So I found myself climbing the stairs until my legs ached, emerging out onto the flat, broad roof. I peered through the crenellations and saw the land spreading out like a patchwork blanket below me, tilted my head back and gazed up at the sky above me. The wind was brisker up here, whipping my hair about into my face. I tied it back and stood witness as the eclipse sank below the horizon and stole its meager light from the land. It was quiet here, but for the whistling wind, and I thought myself alone until a hand touched my elbow. I jumped and spun, a cry tangling in my throat. Draig stumbled back from me, looking as startled as I felt. "I'm sorry," he said, hands held up and spread open. "I didn't mean to frighten you." I pressed a hand over my speeding heart. "You didn't," I lied, because I wanted him to stay. "What are you doing here?" A hint of a smile pulled at his mouth. "Looking for you." He stepped in, closing the distance between us, and pulled my hand from my breast. He matched our palms together and spread his fingers out, much longer and broader and darker than mine. "What brings you up here?" I looked away from him, out at the land before us, but my gaze was drawn back to him like a compass pulled to the north. "I don't know. I wanted to taste the air. I didn't want to be trapped inside another day." He flinched a little at 'trapped', though I hadn't meant it as a condemnation. "I am sorry," he whispered again, and curled his fingers through mine, clasping our palms together. I gave a choked laugh and shook my head, hair whipping about and catching in the breeze. "Oh, Draig! If either of us owes the other an apology, it is I. I am sorry." I pulled on his hand, bringing him a step closer, and wrapped my arms about him. "I am nothing like the Chosen ought to be, and that is my failing, not yours. I am not strong or steady, and I feel no satisfaction at the task that has been required of me. But I will try." I leaned my brow on his shoulder. "I will try to be stronger. To be as I ought to be. I will not lash out at you again, I swear it." I raised my head and framed his face in my hands. I caught

his gaze and held it, studying the dark depths of his eyes. He was my only friend in this place, the only person who I knew me at all, and I had let my own bitterness and fear push him from me. I knew how lucky I was to have this opportunity to see him again and make amends. "Ryllana." He spoke my name on a sigh, and brushed his fingers through my hair. "You are everything you ought to be, and nothing at all like I was led to expect. And what you said to me… There was nothing but truth in it. You should not apologize for that." I looked up at him, uncertain that he meant what he said. "But—You are not wroth with me? You did not come last night, and I thought…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were," he murmured. "I wanted to come, but I thought to give you time. I did not think you'd want to see me." I choked on unhappy laughter, and shook my head wildly. "Oh, do not! I have nothing but time, Draig, and yet not nearly enough of it. I would not have Teppal's beast take more from us than he already will." Draig glanced away, his gaze falling down between us. His fingers tightened their grip on my hand. "Must we speak of him?" he asked. "I would have you dwell on happier things, lady." "No.," I whispered in agreement. "Let's not." I burrowed close against his chest. "Let's not." "Are you cold?" He removed his cloak to drape over my shoulders before I could answer. I was not, truth be told. His body sent heat into mine like a fire. But I leaned my cheek on his shoulder and did not protest, enjoying the closeness of the moment. "Draig," I murmured, reaching an arm up to curl around his neck. "What have I done to earn this kindness from you?" For a moment, he did not speak. When he did, there was a strange note to his voice, and I regretted bringing it up. "You had only to be as you are, lady." He raised his head and found my hand, spread his open against it once again. "I am unable to help myself." I looked up at him and found his other hand with mine, so that we were like a mirror, palms pressed and clasped as though if we held on tight enough, we might never have to let go. It was a fanciful thought, all the more so for the newness of our friendship. But I could not help myself any more than he could. "Draig," I whispered. "The other night…" He stiffened against me, and looked up at the heavens. "I am sorry, lady. Can you not believe me?" "Not that." I squeezed his hands and looked up at him with patient exasperation. "The one before. The first night, when you … came to me." He relaxed, and his gaze warmed with the same remembrance that spread through me. His chest rose and fell with a single quick breath. "Yes?" "Is it… Was it just one night's comfort, to ease my fear?" Dread lodged like a stone in my throat. I swallowed painfully against it and watched him, waiting for his answer. "Ah, lady." He tugged gently on my hands, bringing me in close against him, and pressed his cheek to mine. "It can be more, if you want it." He turned his head, lips

brushing across my skin. "Do you think I could deny you, if you wanted more from me? I am at your service, lady." His mouth hovered a hair's breadth above mine, breath warming my lips. "Do but tell me what you desire, and I'll see it done." I tried to speak the words, but a lifetime's worth of modesty silenced me. My cheeks burned, and I could not tell him what I wanted. So I curled my fingers through his and drew him to me, rose up on my toes and closed the distance between us. His breath shuddered against my lips, warm, reacquainting me with his taste. I pressed closer, seeking it. My lips coaxed his open. My tongue slipped into his mouth and tangled with his, and I lost my breath on a sigh. He felt like everything I missed, everything I needed and had been denied. Home, and comfort, and family. And I knew it was foolish to feel so about a man I barely knew, a man whom I'd only met a few days before, but it seemed like a gift to have found companionship here, where I'd expected only death. Foolish or not, I could not bring myself to reject it. Draig's arms swept about me, pulling me close, lifting me from my feet. I wound my arms around his neck and laughed against his lips as he spun me in circles. When he set me down again and we parted, I was dizzy from more than the spinning. "Have you eaten your supper yet?" His hands lingered on me, fingers trailing over my throat, like he couldn't bring himself to pull away. I shook my head. For the first time in days, I felt like I truly had an appetite. "Will you eat with me?" His smile spread across his face. "I'd love to." He slipped his hands down my arm, twined his fingers through with mine and drew me toward the stairs. "Come. I'll have them bring us something." We ate a meal finer than any they'd given me before, curled up in chairs in a sitting room with our plates balanced precariously on the arms, because I'd felt dwarfed and intimidated by the massive dining room table. Draig had a decanter of chilled, pale wine brought, and kept my glass full as we ate and talked, and laughed with me when I grew woozy with it. He helped me back to my room, one arm about my waist to support me, and drew me closer against his side than strictly necessary. When we were alone within them, I turned, expecting him to take me in my arms as he had the first night, but he did no more than kiss me, and when he guided me back onto the bed, it was only to climb up behind me and wrap me in his arms. I traced my fingertips over his forearms wonderingly, staring across the room at the patterns the lamp's flame threw on the walls. I had kissed before, it was true, but they all seemed suddenly like boys to me now, and they had all wanted more from me than I would give. None had ever been content to hold me like this, as though being close to me were reward enough in itself. I woke the next morning to an empty bed and a crimson glow through the curtains. I parted them and stared out the window, shocked to see that the corona of light around Nelru's shadow had become blood red. There had been nothing in the books I'd read to explain this. I returned to the library and scrounged more from the shelves, and carried them back to my room to study. But there was still no clue as to what it might mean, whether it was a sign of victory or imminent defeat. Whether this war might have been won without the need of my sacrifice, and my life spared for it, or whether it might be demanded claimed

immediately, lest Teppal fall to Nelru's greed. I pored through the books, unmoving from my seat in the casement. The world below me seemed eerie and wrong in the strange light, the colors all slightly distorted. The eclipse rose in my window and passed out of sight at midday, so I had no means of tracking the time beyond the number of candles that I burned through. It might have been minutes, or days, when my door crashed open. I jumped, my heart in my throat, and a smile bloomed across my face to see Draig in the doorway. I pushed my books aside and started toward him, but cried out in dismay not halfway across the room, for his tabard dripped with blood and he clung unsteadily to the jamb. His face was ashen, his head drooping forward, as though he hadn't the strength to hold it upright. I ran to him and helped him to the bed. He held on to me, stumbling across the rug. I eased him onto the bed, then took his face in my hands and turned it to me. His expression was slack, his eyes half-closed. "Draig!" I cried. "What happened?" He opened his eyes. It looked as though it took a great effort. "Ryllana." He smiled as though it was a wonderful surprise to see me. Then he grimaced and groaned with pain. "I'm hurt." "You don't say." I pulled frantically at his tabard. "Draig, help me! I must see where you're injured." He rose up onto his elbow and I began to strip his tabard off, but his strength only lasted a moment before he collapsed back onto the bed. His ragged breathing made fear twist through my stomach. "A kiss, lady." His voice was a thread of sound. "For strength." I stared down at him. "Don't be absurd. Now is not the time." I gripped his tabard at the throat and tore it open down the front. Draig blinked at me, but didn't protest. It took another moment to unlace his shirt, and then I had his chest bared. Four parallel gouges cut across his chest, each as long as my forearm and bleeding freely. I clasped my hands over my mouth, horrified. "Oh, Draig…" I sought out his gaze. "This is bad." He nodded, and I saw recognition in his eyes. He knew. He knew, and had come to me. I crouched on the bed and tore strips of fabric from the hem of my robe, trying not to cry. I could clean him and bandage him, but little more. I had meager sewing skills, and no needle or thread in any case. I helped him sit and wound the makeshift bandages around his back, then took his hand in mine and bent over it, pressing a fierce kiss to his palm. He pulled from my grasp and raised his hand to my cheek. "A kiss, lady," he murmured again. I shook my head wildly and dashed tears from my cheeks. "Fool. How can you think of stealing kisses now?" "So be it, then." He gave me a crooked smile. "Will you refuse the last request of a dying fool?" I covered my face in my hands, protests rising unbidden to my lips. But they were an empty comfort. We both knew the truth. He might die, and there might be nothing I could do to prevent it. I knelt at his side in the mattress and put my hands to his cheeks. I looked gravely down at him, his face grey and pale, then bent and pressed my mouth to his. I meant it to be only that, a momentary brush. But when I tried to draw away, he

curled his hand around the back of my neck and held me to him with startling strength. His lips coaxed mine, urging them to part so he could take the kiss deeper. I pressed them together and shook my head. When he persisted, I broke away. "Don't tax yourself," I commanded unsteadily. "You've better things to save your strength for." "Better things than kissing?" He eased back onto the bed with a lopsided smile. "I can only think of a very few." "Living?" His smile softened, warmed. "What's the use of that when pretty women refuse to kiss you?" I blushed and turned my face away, bundling up his soiled clothes to keep my hands busy. "Save your strength, and live through this, and I'll kiss you all you like." "And if I don't?" he asked. His fingers circled my wrist. He pressed my hand to his chest, not over the wound, but over his heart. "One kiss, Ryllana. One real kiss. And then you may fuss over me as much as you please." I balked, shaking my head as he tried to draw me toward him. "I don't want to hurt you…" "Ah, lady." He threaded his fingers through my hair. "You break my heart to refuse me." How could I resist? I bent again, and this time when his tongue brushed across my lips, I allowed them to part. He slipped into my mouth, hungry and demanding. I could not help but give him everything he wanted. I slid my hand along his throat as we kissed, caressing him gently. His breath hitched, and mine as well. He pressed up into my mouth, slid a hand around the small of my back and dragged me down against him. I tried to struggle away, wary of his wounds, but he held me with an iron grip. He broke from the kiss, skimming his lips along my jaw, and murmured against my ear, "Won't you allow me this?" His fingers slid in my hair, tipping my head back so he could kiss my throat. "It would hurt far worse to let you go." "You are a fool," I gasped, but did not repeat my struggles. The feel of his lips on my skin was exquisite. He rekindled the fires that had been banked within me since the first night, and it only took a touch. They burned through me, fueling my hunger until it matched his. I pulled his mouth back to mine, and took as much as I gave. He responded like a man uninjured, and I could almost let myself believe that he was fine, and take comfort in it. But I could not cleanse my memory of the sight of all that blood, soaked through his clothes and dripping toward the floor. It was seared there, so that when I closed my eyes it was all I could see. I broke away and pressed my face into the pillow beside his head. "Are you satisfied?" I could not seem to catch my breath. It was fear and passion alike that stole it from me. Draig's laughter was a quiet caress. "Not even close." I drew back and stared down at him, bewildered. "You are mad! You're wounded. Now is not the time—" He slid his hands up my arms, gazing at me with an unmistakable heat. "You're not going to kill me, Ryllana, I promise you that. Look, I've stopped bleeding already." I glanced down and saw that he was right. The wounds across his chest were still angry and red, but impossibly, miraculously, his blood had slowed and clotted. I pressed

the edges of the wounds gently with my fingers. Relief swamped me. It was not so bad as it had seemed. He was out of immediate danger. Even so, I shook my head and slid away. "All the more reason not to risk reopening them." Draig caught my hand before I could get my feet on the floor. "If I promise to lie here, right where I am, will you stay?" I eyed him sideways, wondering if it was a trick. But his expression was so earnest, and the wounds across his chest unspeakably frightening. Reluctantly, I sank back onto the bed. "Very well." His smile shone like Teppal's stars, brilliant and radiant. He slid his hands further, up to my shoulders, and brushed his thumbs over my collarbones. "Good," he said, eyes half-closed, like a self-satisfied cat. And then, on a soft sigh, "I missed you, Ryllana." I turned my face aside, picking at my skirt. "It has not even been a day. You hardly know me well enough to miss me." The words came out harsher than I intended, because what I truly wanted to say was, I missed you, too. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But well enough to know I like you." "Oh, Draig." I twisted my skirt between my hands. "You shouldn't, you know." He raised a brow. "Like you?" I nodded. My cheeks burned, and my chest felt too tight. But I forced the words out. They were too important to leave unspoken. "It'll be easier for you if you don't, when I… Well. When I'm gone." He looked away, pressing his lips to a thin line. He was silent for a moment, and I stared at him in mute distress, fearing I'd angered him. "Maybe I don't want it to be easy," he said at last, throwing it out like a gauntlet. His gaze, when it met mine, was a challenge. "Maybe I'd rather mourn you, than not know you at all." I blinked tears from my eyes. My heart raced in my chest, and I couldn't identify the emotion that caused its flight. Something akin to fear, but unlike any I'd yet known in my life. "You must have lost more blood than I thought," I said weakly. "You're delirious." He sat up swiftly, leaned toward me and caught my face between his hands. "No, Ryllana. I assure you, I am not." And he pulled me to him and kissed me. My hands fisted on his shoulders. The last kiss had been warm and pleasant, a candle's flame. This was an inferno, all lips and tongue and hungry hands. I barely had the strength to fight him back. He struggled, but I held him at arm's length and shook him. "You are the one good, kind thing that has happened to me here. I will not risk endangering you, Draig. Don't ask it of me!" "Just lie with me, then." He pulled on my arm, urging me down next to him. "Let me hold you." I subsided reluctantly, but the warmth of his skin against mine and the strength of his arms around me soothed my frantic worry. I turned within the circle of his arms and put a hand to his face. "Promise me," I whispered. "Promise me you will not die." I could not bear the thought of being left alone here. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Not today," he pledged solemnly. I nodded and held him close to me, arms circled tight around his back, as though I could hold his promise to me and guarantee it was so. His hands slid over my back, a gentle comfort. His breath feathered through the hair

at my nape. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder and listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath his breast. His lips brushed my ear, the line of my jaw. I closed my eyes and allowed it, until he began to trail his kisses down my throat. "Draig." I pushed away. "Ryllana." He threaded his fingers through my hair. "Ah, Bright One. It was close today. I thought I might not…" He broke off and slipped his hands over my shoulders, down my back. His touch brushed gently across my waist. "I missed you." His fingers traced the edge of my hip. "You missed this?" I asked tightly. He jerked away. His eyes stared up at me, large and dark with pain that had nothing to do with his wounds. "Is that what you think?" I looked away because I didn't, really, but I feared it might be so. "Is it not?" His breath left him with a hiss. "No! Bright One—" He shoved me back and tried to writhe out from beneath me. I grabbed his shoulders and held him with me on the bed. "I'm sorry, Draig. Stay. I'll go, if that's what you want. But stay." Slowly, he relaxed, and sank down into the bedding. "No, don't go. Please." He snaked an arm around my waist. I laid my hand on his arm. His skin was dark and tawny beneath mine, strong where mine was smooth. "Maybe it would be best if I did," I said quietly. His thumb brushed across my ribs. "Do you think so?" I looked at him over my shoulder. "I will not risk harming you." "Trust me, lady, you won't." He sat and wrapped his arms about me, his chest pressed to my back. His lips left a trail of gentle kisses across my shoulders. "You help." I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "And when you break open your wounds and start bleeding again? What help will that be?" He was quiet for a long moment, his hands warm on my stomach, his breath warm on my nape. At last, he said, whisper-soft, "I hurt, lady. But when I'm with you … when I touch you … you're all I can think about." He turned his head, burying his face in my hair. "It helps." I drew a long, slow breath and released it before I could make myself speak. "Touch me, then." I took his hands in mine and drew him down to the bed with me. "But I will not have you exerting yourself." He curled himself against my back, his cheek pressed to mine, his arms wrapped about me. His fingers worked at the rope that bound my waist, loosening it. He brushed the sleeve of my gown down my arm and kissed across my shoulder. I shivered within his embrace, but held myself still beneath his touch. He slipped a hand to my hip and drew my skirt up until my leg was bared to the chill air. His fingers danced a light path across my flesh, from hip to knee and back again. He lingered at the valley where hip joined thigh, sending warmth spiraling through me. I pillowed my cheek on my arm, struggling to contain it. "Don't," Draig whispered against my ear. "Don't fight it." "You will torment me," I murmured, too drowsy with pleasure to make more of a protest. He laughed quietly and drew his hand up my thigh. "You placed the restriction, lady, not I." His fingers slipped beneath my dress and teased the curve of my stomach. "Will you rescind it?"

"No," I told him, though I wanted very badly to say otherwise. "You may ask as much as you like, torment me as long as you like, and that answer will not change. I won't do anything to harm you." "I know." He kissed my temple and let his breath flutter across my face. "Be quiet, then, and let me feel you." I drifted in a haze of pleasure, buoyed by his tender touches. He demanded nothing, only touched me, as though the feel of my flesh beneath his hands was some rare gift, to be treasured and luxuriated in. When I was limp and languorous, he rolled me onto my back and propped himself on an elbow above me. His hair cascaded about his face like a curtain, and his eyes glinted at me through it. "Still determined?" he asked with a crooked smile. "Quite." I brushed my fingers over his lips and tried to imprint his expression—warm and sweet and coyly mischievous—in my memory. He brushed a chaste kiss across my mouth. "Then I am satisfied." He lay, and drew me close against his body. I laid my head on his chest. The dusting of wiry hairs scratched my cheek, and his heart beat a steady rhythm against my ear that lulled me off to sleep.

Chapter Five I woke curled against the warmth of Draig's body. He had draped an arm around my waist in his sleep. I burrowed closer, enjoying the intimacy and the early-morning lethargy, and pleased to not have woken alone in an empty bed. He shifted as soon as I moved. I raised my head, smiling down at him. He gave me a sleepy smile and brushed his hand through my hair. "Good morning," I said, and I kissed his shoulder. "It's not yet." He turned his head, looking toward the window, brow creased. Only starlight shone through the casement. "Is it?" "Near enough." I sat up, yawning, and pushed my fingers through my tousled hair. It would take the firm application of a sturdy comb to tame, so I let it fall as it pleased, and reached instead to caress Draig's jaw. He smiled up at me and took hold of my wrist so that he could kiss my fingers. He tugged gently on a lock of my hair. "I'll play lady's maid for you, if you wish it." I smiled at the novelty of the idea. Before I could answer, though, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the doorway across the room. I clung to his shoulders and laughed helplessly. He carried me to the adjoining bath chamber. The tub had been filled with scented water, and orange blossoms floated on its steaming surface. I trailed my fingers through it, found it hot enough to turn me as pink as a rose petal, just how I liked it. "Does it meet with your approval?" I smiled up at Draig. "It's perfect." "I'm glad." He lowered me into the water. It wrapped around me, a hot caress that leeched the lingering tension from my muscles. I leaned back and sighed at the luxury. When I opened my eyes, Draig was looking down at me, a smile hovering about his face. I drew my legs to my chest so I took up less than half the space in the oversized brass tub. "Won't you join me?" "If you like." "I would." I tightened my wet fingers around his. "Very much." He turned his back to me to undress. I watched him, bemused at his sudden modesty, and admired the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin. He set his clothes aside and stood nude. I expected him to climb in with me, but he hesitated, not turning. "Draig?" I reached for him, concerned. My hand touched his thigh. He inhaled with a sharp hiss. "Ryllana…" He looked at me over his shoulder. "I am afraid." I laughed up at him. "Of me?" He sighed. "You think you know me, lady, and I wish it were so. I am afraid … you will not like what you learn, when you know more of me." I held a damp hand toward him, smiling. "Try me, then, and see how well I like you." He drew a breath. His hands curled at his sides, as though he braced himself for something. He faced me, and jerked his chin up with a defiant expression. I didn't understand at first. My gaze roamed over him, and I saw only sleek muscle and firm skin. Nothing worthy of such trepidation.

His breath came rapidly, and it was the rise and fall of his chest that drew my attention to the four new, pink scars that cut across his body, from shoulder to waist. Four broad, parallel tracks, testament to a grievous wound. I pressed my hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp. "What…" I stretched my hand toward him, trembling as though I reached to pet a feral creature, not a man I had shared easy passion with the night before. My fingers brushed the scars, solid and real. I cried out with wonder, and looked at my fingertips as though they held some clue to this marvel. "I don't understand. It should have taken weeks…" "It is the beast." He nearly spat the word out, scowling down at the floor. "It…it healed you?" "No." He released a ragged breath. He took my hand, twined his fingers through mine. "Not quite. But … nothing the beast touches is left unaltered." He drew his other hand over his chest, fingering the raw scars. "It is a gift, I suppose." But he sounded bitter about it, not grateful. I nodded slowly, though I didn't understand at all. Draig climbed over the edge of the tub and joined me in it. The water sloshed dangerously close to the tub's lip, but I paid it no mind. We both sat with our knees against our chests, our feet tangling, laughing uncertainly at the awkwardness of it. It would have been easier to bathe alone, and Draig looked skittish enough that I didn't think he'd mind allowing me solitude. But I didn't ask him to leave, and he didn't offer it. He watched me quietly for a moment, his gaze on my face as mine traced the lines on his chest. He slid a finger along my shoulder. "You helped," he murmured. "Quite a lot, actually." I looked up at him, startled. "Helped with what?" "The healing." His touch slipped down my shoulder, along my arm. "All I did was mop you up." "Ah, no." Beneath the water, he brushed a hand along my thigh. "Passion is its own kind of magic, you know." Draig took my hand, placed it over his heart, and his scars. "It helped." I stared at him, as his bizarre behavior the night before slowly shifted into something that made a strange kind of sense. "You should have told me. I didn't understand why…" "I know." I traced my fingers down the raised, smooth scars. I could not splay them wide enough to trace all four lines. "What did this?" I asked on a hushed breath, humbled by the thought of what might have been large enough to inflict such a wound, and how easily such a thing might have killed him. "What happened?" Draig glanced away and brought his hand up, his long fingers stretched along the backs of mine, lightly holding my palm against his skin. "Nelru's beast," he said quietly. "She surprised us, that is all." "She—You—" I gaped up at him, horrified. "You mean he takes you to battle with him?" I demanded. I did not know what role Draig performed for Teppal's beast, or what demanded required his presence from sunrise to dusk, but I had not thought that he would have taken Draig into combat with Nelru's beast. I had been held in the claws of Teppal's, I knew its terrible size and power. I knew how easily a man could be killed by those massive claws. Draig might have been able to heal his terrible wounds in a night, but that did him no good at all against such creatures. It was only luck that his wounds had not

been too deep, that he had not bled too much. Draig glanced up at me. He seemed surprised at my distress. "He must," he said. "He could not leave me behind, even if he tried." He lifted his hand from mine and brought it to my cheek. "I am hardier than you think, lady. The danger is not so great." I swiped drops of steam from my face to hide the way my hand shook. "You might have died last night." He grimaced. "That does not usually happen." He filled a pitcher with our bathwater and told me, "Lean forward, now. I promised to play lady's maid for you." I obeyed, back bowed, and bit back the torrent of protests that rose to my lips. He poured the water over my hair in a steady stream. Rivulets ran down my back and shoulders; clumps of hair stuck to my cheeks. I wiped my face and blinked water out of my eyes, then reached for the soap. Draig laughed quietly. "Wait." He plucked a fragrant orange blossom from where it had caught in my hair and tucked it behind my ear. He sat back and smiled at me. "There. Better." I splashed water at him. "It'll only come out while I wash." "Then I'll put it back again." He brushed his fingers over my cheeks. His expression sobered. "Do you dislike them? I thought…They're not roses…" I rolled to my knees, spilling water onto the floor in my haste but not caring a bit, and silenced him with a kiss. "I love them." I blushed and glanced away. "I should not have been so rash. I hope…" I reached out to touch his scars, parallel marks like he had been raked with enormous claws. "That did not happen because the beast was wroth with you for what I did, did it?" He grimaced and slouched lower in the water, so that it came to his chin and his knees jutted up like islands. Flowers bobbed in the water above his stomach, obscuring the scars. "No. You were not to blame, Ryllana." I nodded, relieved, but discomfited by his expression. "Is he…" I paused, cleared my throat, tried again. "What is he like?" Draig turned his gaze aside, staring into the distance. "The beast?" He spoke it softly, almost a whisper. I nodded. "He is…" Draig's brows drew together. "Ah, Bright One. You should ask that of anyone but me. I am not fit to answer it." "I've tried." I gave him a sad smile. "No one else will talk to me." He only pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Why doesn't he come to me? Why does he demand a sacrifice, only to delay it?" Draig's sigh rattled in his chest. "I told you. He cannot bear the thought of what he must do." I released a small huff of breath and sat down abruptly in the water. "He might at least allow me to return home while he makes up his mind." Draig gave me a look of bitter amusement. "Would you return, if he allowed you to leave?" I thought of my family, who had let the prophets take me without a word of protest. My mother, who had scorned my grief and fear. And I looked at Draig and thought of how much kindness he had given me, when I had expected none. "I might," I said. But I knew that if I was allowed to leave, I would not head towards home. I couldn't live there anymore, not knowing what they'd done to me.

Draig only shook his head, though whether he disbelieved my answer or despaired of it, I couldn't tell. We were quiet for a moment. I don't know what thoughts turned Draig's mood so somber, but I was seized by a sudden sense of melancholy. As foolish as it may have been, I had enjoyed the days I'd spent with him. I disliked the thought that it couldn't last. Whatever the outcome, whether Teppal's beast demanded my sacrifice or allowed me to leave, the fragile peace of these days must end. It was Draig who broke the moody silence. "Well," he said, and cleared his throat. "This won't do." He took my arms and drew me toward him. I watched him uncertainly. He pulled me close, our chests pressed against one another, and bowed his head over mine. His kiss was sweet and gentle, undemanding, but he didn't draw away until I had melted against him. When he pulled back, he was smiling, the warm smile I had come to recognize and look for. "That's better." He brushed his thumb over my chin. I trembled, thrown off balance by his sudden sweetness. I grabbed the bar of soap to hide the way my hands shook. "What was that for?" "To get you to relax again." His touch skimmed down my shoulders. "Do you think you could make my day complete, and manage a smile for me?" I raised a brow at him. "It's morning. Not yet dawn. The day's barely begun." "I know." He brushed his lips over mine again, the flick of his tongue a brief caress. "But I must go soon." I rinsed suds from my arms, frowning down at the swirling water. "Why do you only come at night?" His gaze held a note of wistfulness. "It's the only time I'm free." "Is it the beast who keeps you away?" I blurted, though I knew he didn't like to talk about it. "Is he a harsh master?" Draig grimaced, as he had before. "We understand one another, he and I," he said. "But he does not negotiate, not about this." I set the soap aside and rose. Water slid off of my skin in rivulets. "You should go, then. I would not like you to vex him on my account." Draig said nothing, but his breath was audible. I looked at him, and found him gazing up at me, his lower lip caught between his teeth. "Lords above, Ryllana, you would tempt me to defy the gods themselves." I smiled down at him, pleased and surprised. "How soon must you leave?" I whispered. He reached for me, twined his fingers with mine. "Not this soon." And drew me toward him, down into the water. I sank to my knees before him and looked up at him through the flickering candlelight. He bent forward, caught my mouth. I buried my hands in his hair and opened for him, welcoming him as he swept in and claimed it. He closed his arms around my back and slid his fingers from my shoulders to my waist, bringing my hips in close against his. I broke away from the kiss and looked down at him, smoothing damp hair out of his face. "What?" he asked, a breath of a sound. His fingers danced across the small of my back, almost tickling, so I had to arch in even closer against him. I shook my head. "Nothing. I'm just… Last night, I didn't know if you would make it

to morning, and now you're here and well and…" My throat closed off as emotions swelled within me, and I ducked my head so that he wouldn't see how close I was to tears. I wanted to enjoy this moment with him, not ruin it with fears and sentimentality. "I'm very happy," I murmured. "That's all." And, to distract him, I pressed my mouth to his cheekbone, where he tasted of flower-scented water and the faint bitterness of soap. Draig's arms tightened around me, but he kept his touch light, fingertips skimming over my skin as though he feared to clutch me too hard, as though I was the one who had been grievously injured, not him. "Is that so?" I did not answer, but shifted within his embrace, sliding back, and left a path of kisses down his jaw. His grip tightened on me, fingertips pressing into my skin. His head fell back. I took advantage of the opportunity to trail down his throat. "Ryllana," he said raggedly. "Lady. Ah, gods…" He curled his hands about my waist and tried to push me back. I caught his wrists and tugged his hands away. At his muffled sound of protest, I raised my head and looked down at him sternly. "Let me," I chided him. "You will not deny me, not this time." He rocked back, water sloshing around us, and looked at me in surprise. "Deny you? What have I ever withheld from you, Ryllana?" I shook my head. "You deny yourself." I used my grip on his wrists to pull him toward me, and grazed my lips over his shoulder. "I want to share this with you, Draig. I want you to let me give you the same thing you given me." "What is that?" he asked, unsteadily. I tasted the hollow behind his collarbone and his chest rose and fell once, a sharp gasp sharply. "Comfort." I slid my hands down his chest. "Companionship. Pleasure." He made a soft sound like a wounded animal and shook his head. "Lady." He touched my hair lightly. "You've given too much to me already. Don't you know? I'm in your debt." I shoved him back, impatient with his protests, so his back came up against the sloped edge of the tub and there was nowhere for him to go, no way for him to escape me. I straddled his lap and leaned in close, nipping at the muscle that angled between shoulder and throat. "I will not be denied." His laughter was soft and husky. "Then I suppose I am vanquished." He threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged gently, not enough to make me think that he meant to dislodge me. "Shall you take your spoils?" "I will." I nipped at his throat, and down his chest. "And my spoils are your pleasure." I raised my head to see that the corners of his eyes were creased, laughing up at me. "If only all conquerers were so kind." I sobered, reminded of Nelru and the war that waged on as we took our respite. And watched as Draig's face flooded with the recognition of what he'd done. "I didn't mean it," he whispered, stroking my hair again. "Ryllana, it was only a jest." "I know," I said, and ducked my head to kiss across his chest, so that we might both forget. My tongue found his nipple, drawn tight and hard. He cried out softly as I sucked it into my mouth, shifted restlessly beneath me when I scraped it gently with my teeth. "That is pure wickedness," he breathed, fingers clenching in my hair and holding me

against him. "Who taught you such things? Surely it was not I." I laughed a little and licked it again, just to watch his head fall back and his expression transform with the pleasure it brought him. "Shall I stop?" "No," he groaned, arching up against my mouth. "Lady, I could not bear it." I continued my kisses across the breadth of his chest, and down to where the water lapped against his ribs. Beneath the surface, I scraped a nail over the edge of his navel as I trailed my hand down his stomach, and lower, to the hardness that was proof of his desire. We both of us gasped shook as I curled fingers around him, and Draig's fingers wrenched so hard in my hair that I raised my head to protest. He dragged my mouth to his before I could form the words, and I lost them in the onslaught of his kiss. "Bright One!" He broke away and pressed his cheek to mine, gasping groaning into my hair as I stroked my hand slowly over him. "Ryllana, you will drive me to the very brink of madness." "It is my intent," I answered him, kissing at his throat. "To the brink, and beyond." I curled my grip tighter, stroked a fraction faster. His chest heaved beneath me like a bellows, his fingers digging tighter with every movement. A trail of sweat dripped down his throat and I lapped it up, bringing my body in close against his. With a sudden movement, he wrapped his arms around my back and surged forward, bearing me back to the other end of the tub and reversing our positions, so it was I beneath and him above. He held himself above me and stared down with eyes gone dark and wild. His hips twitched, thrusting into my hand. I laughed and reared up, sucking at the skin beneath his jaw. "What?" I asked him breathlessly, innocently. "What do you want?" "You. By all that's holy…" He caught my hand and dragged it up out of the water. I curled it around his shoulder and he dipped below again to catch at my thigh. He tugged my leg up so that he could settle closer, hips pressed to mine. The feel of his erection caught between us—close, I thought, so close—made heat spill through me, and my hands tightened on his back. "Draig." I arched up beneath him. He groaned and nipped at my ear, kissed across my cheek until he found my mouth and drove within. I dragged my hands down his back to his buttocks and hauled him sharply against me. He broke away from the kiss with a wild cry. "Draig." I tried again, rising up against him as his hips flexed into mine, so nearly what we both needed and yet nowhere near enough. "What do you want? Tell me." His head hung forward, brow pressed to my shoulder so I could look over his and down the muscular slope of his back, all the way to where the water lapped at his hips. "You know." There was a note of accusation in his voice. "You know what I want." "I could hazard a guess," I murmured, threading my fingers through his hair. "Tell me. I like to hear it." He lifted his head as though it took a great effort, and looked down into my eyes. I thrilled at the wild hunger so evident in his gaze. The madness that I had driven him to with nothing but my hands, my touch. "You. I want … you." His voice shook as I hooked my legs around his hips, opening to him, fitting us together so that he pressed against my opening. So close. "You're … all. You're everything. Gods, Ryllana—"

I tightened my legs around him, pulling him forward so he sank into me, sank deep, filling the emptiness and replacing it with a sweet ache. I pressed an open kiss to Draig's shoulder, gasping against his skin. He surged against me, pressing deep and withdrawing, only to thrust deep again. Heat crawled over my skin like a flame. The humid air seemed suddenly too thick, too dense. We clung to one another, moved against one another, and all I could hear was the rush of my blood and the sweet sound of Draig's breath rasping against my ear. I tugged on his hair and urged him down to me, to my kiss. The flames became a firestorm, raging through me. I moved against Draig without thought, seeking the ineffable, just out of reach. He bit and sucked at my throat, the muscles in his shoulders and arms as solid as rocks with the tension that filled both of us. "Draig." I smoothed wet hands over his face. "Draig. Gods… Please…" He grunted, wordless, against my skin, and moved against me faster, thrust harder. Tension wound through me until my gasps breaths sounded like sobs. I clutched at Draig, moved wildly against him. And with a fierceness that stole my breath, the fire exploded through me. My keening cry hung on the air and my body bowed of its own volition, shaking so hard I feared I might fall apart, and it seemed a small price to pay. Draig reached his climax while I still floated from mine, with a sharp thrust of his hips against mine and a spreading sense of warmth and satisfaction in my belly. He slumped over, all his weight atop of me. I wound my arms about his back and held him close, savoring the sounds of his unsteady breaths and the rapid flutter of his heart beneath his breast. When at last he moved, Draig dragged himself off of me and looked down at me with a dazed expression. He dragged fingers through his tousled hair and looked around him like a man just coming awake from an unexpected dream. "The chambermaids will have my head," he murmured, looking at the water we'd splashed about the floor. I laughed and reached my arms up to him. He climbed out of the bath and lifted me up. The air seemed chill after the warmth of our embrace, and I shivered in his arms. He made a soft sound and set me on my feet only long enough to wrap me in a plush robe. Then I was in his arms again, snuggling close against his chest as he carried me out to the bed. He did not climb in with me, to my regret. The sky outside my window glowed with the faint streaks of muted sunrise, announcing morning's approach. I girdled my robe at the waist and watched as Draig moved about the room, gathering his clothes. He was nearly dressed by the time I'd worked up the courage to ask, "Will you come back tonight?" He stopped with one boot half pulled on, and straightened to look at me. "I would like to," he said quietly. I smiled, relief blooming in my chest like a desert flower. "Me, too." "Tonight, then." He crossed the room, bent and pressed his lips to mine. "I'll be here." **** I watched the eclipse rise through the casement window. Diffuse light turned the landscape below me into a washed-out painting, muted colors hurting my eyes to look at

for too long. So I stared at the sky instead and kept watch, following the battle as Nelru and Teppal tumbled across the sky. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I could see a sliver of sunlight beyond the edge of Nelru's shadow. I clasped my hands at my breasts and could not look away for fear the battle might turn and I would miss it. Toward midday, clouds blew in and scudded across the sky. I bit my knuckle with frustration. As a child, I had shaken my head at the folly of the women who stood on our battlements, gazes fixed on the horizon and terrible despair fixed on their faces. I had not conceived of the turmoil that had kept them there, bound to their vigil by an alloy of fear and hope. But I understood it now. Had Teppal's beast itself come to me then, I could not have made myself turn away. The patchwork clouds were precursors to the solid wall of grey storm that followed, rolling across the sky like a carpet. Full darkness settled over the castle and gardens, broken only by pinpricks of torchlight. And I, clutching the windowframe and frantic for any sign of the battle's progress, discovered that the only thing worse than choosing to look away was having the choice taken from me. I threw the casement shut with a cry of despair and fled to the library, where I might lose myself, insulated from the storm by the comforting presence of leather bindings and parchment pages. I did not want to read of Teppal or his beast, not this day. I scanned the shelves until I stumbled onto the journal of a minstrel who had found himself wandering foreign lands and set out to learn the language, that he might continue to ply his trade rather than return home. Within his journal, he recorded bits and pieces of the language as he learned it, which I skimmed but paid little mind. Too, he collected the tales and legends that the foreigners told him, and set them faithfully on parchment, that he might memorize them and increase his repertoire. Where the language oddments had elicited a passing interest in me, these stories I found enthralling, and spent the better part of the day flipping through them. One story told of a beautiful maiden whose husband was proscribed into the army on their wedding night, to fight against the country's enemies far to the north, and how she walked barefoot across the land to bring him clothes fit for the harsh winter climate only to find herself blocked by the impassible mountain ranges at the border. She had stood at their base and raged, demanding to be allowed to see to her husband, and the mountains had trembled before her, and crumbled to dust. Another story told of a young boy who left his home to watch the passage of the king's party as he toured his kingdom, and stumbled onto an enemy encampment preparing an ambush. Small and lithe as he was, the enemy troops had not seen him, and the boy knew that he could retreat in safety. But without warning, the party would surely perish. The boy had gathered his cloak about himself, to shield him from enemy eyes, and crept through to the king's encampment, where he cried out a warning. The king was saved, but the boy captured and brought to the enemy's general to be beheaded. The minstrel wrote that the boy knelt before the warrior without a trace of fear in his heart, and bowed his head willingly, accepting his fate. The general's sword flashed, but before it fell, a great peal of thunder shook the land, and lightning blinded all who stood on the field. And when the sword fell, it fell upon open air, for Teppal had seen the boy's loyalty and courage and taken him from beneath the blade, to sit as honored companion at the god's side.

These fanciful stories, and many others, kept me occupied that day, when idleness would have driven me mad. Time slipped by, as unobtrusive as a distant stream, and I only knew that night had fallen when the door opened. I raised my head to find Draig watching me, a quizzical smile on his face. "What are you doing?" He stepped in, shut the door behind him. I closed the book on my lap and slid it away, relief fluttering in my breast like a robin's wings. "Reading," I told him. His gaze flicked away, taking in the title of the book he'd interrupted, then back to me, warm with amusement. "You're trying to learn Dageru?" I straightened my shoulders, stung by the implication. "And why shouldn't I?" His smile widened, and his eyes were bright with affection. "No need to take such offense, little scholar. I only marvel at your tenacity, to attempt to learn a language in what time you have." He picked up the book, flipped through its pages. "Especially one notorious for requiring a lifetime of study, and then only to acquire the basics." I flushed, chagrinned that he imagined such industry from me, when in truth I had whiled away the day with children's stories. I took the book from him and returned it to the top of its pile. "Come," I said. "Sit with me." He drew me with him to one of the chairs. The calluses on his palms abraded mine, a not-unpleasant sensation. He sat and urged me down onto his lap. I twined my arms around his neck, laughing quietly. "And how was your day?" His lips twisted into a mirthless smile. "Filled with somewhat less study and somewhat more excitement than yours, I reckon." I touched my hand to his shirt, just above his heart. "How are you?" Worry tinged my voice, turned it soft. This close, I couldn't see his lips curve, but I saw the creases that formed at the corners of his eyes. "I am fine, lady." My fingers curled in the cambric of his shirt. "You are not hurt again?" He shook his head, and drew my hands up to brush kisses over my palms. "No, lady, I am not hurt." His voice warmed. "Will you insist on seeing for yourself, or allow me to retain my clothes?" I ducked my head and looked up at him through my lashes. "There are other reasons to be rid of your shirt." Draig laughed, but sounded pleased. His arms came around me, hugging me tight. "There are indeed." He nuzzled against my throat, his breath warm on my skin. "But I wanted to sit with you awhile." I pulled my fingers through his hair. "Just sit?" His hands slid over my back, comforting, not caressing. "If it's not too much of an imposition." I drew back. His eyes crinkled at the edges. He was laughing at me. I let out a breath, playing at being vexed, and snatched the minstrel's journal up. "Sitting suits me just fine. But what will you do?" He tugged playfully on a lock of my hair. "I thought we might talk." "We could do that." I closed the book and kept it on my lap, one finger marking my place, a clear threat. "But then you'd have to actually tell me something about yourself, you realize." The corners of his eyes creased again, but this time, it wasn't entirely pleasure. He

watched me speculatively, one brow quirked. He was, I thought, both surprised and intrigued by my demand. I waited, head bent to the side, for his response. It was a long time coming, and lopsided when it did, but after a few moments, he gave me a faint smile. "What would you know, then?" "Where were you born?" His lips twisted, the quirky, slightly superior expression of someone who was tolerating foolishness out of affection. I knew that expression well enough from my brothers. "What makes you think I wasn't born here?" I tugged on a fistful of his sable hair. "Your coloring. You're not a native. And you've an accent." At that, he looked startled. I allowed myself a bit of smugness at having rid him of his superiority. "It's not much of one, but it's there. Where are you from, Draig?" He was quiet for a moment, and I started to think he wouldn't answer me at all. But just as I was about to give it up as a lost cause, he curled an arm about my waist to hold me steady and leaned to retrieve a book from one of my stacks. He spread it open on my lap and drew his fingers along the detailed map it contained. "Here." He turned his head, burying his face in my hair, so his voice was muffled. "I was born here." I lifted his hand so I could see the place he indicated. There was no name written on the map, but it was a small valley, with a river running through it. I smiled at the thought of him growing up in such a pastoral setting. "What's it called?" He made a sound against my shoulder, a breath of laughter. "I only ever called it home." I scanned the rest of the map, looking for landmarks to help me locate the valley. But though the landscape was lush with mountain ranges and rivers, I recognized none of them. Something tightened in the pit of my stomach. "You have come a very long way from home, Draig," I said quietly. "Yes." He said that, and no more. I turned within the circle of his arms. I put my hands on his cheeks, watching him solemnly. "You must miss your family very much." He drew three slow breaths before he spoke. "Do you miss yours?" "I don't know. Sometimes. It gets lonely during the day. But sometimes…" I smiled at him. "Not so much, when I'm with you." He gave my arm a squeeze. "I must have missed them at first," he said quietly. "I'm sure I missed them for a long time." I blinked slowly at him. "You don't know?" He drew a long breath. "I don't remember them, lady." His voice was rough, ragged. "It has been too long." I stared at him, unable to comprehend. A thousand years could pass, I was certain, and I would still remember my parents, my siblings, my aunts and uncles who came on holy days and spoiled us when we were children. "How is that possible?" I asked with half a breath. He shrugged and looked away. "Draig." I put my hand on his cheek, turning him back to face me. "Why do you do that?" He stared at me with a fearful intensity. I thought he would have turned away again,

if I'd allowed it. "Do what?" "Avoid me, like that. Look away when you don't want to tell me something, like you're shamed." He shook his head. "Ryllana … if you think I'm your equal—or anything more, gods forbid—just because I have a position of some import here… You are wrong. I don't deserve you, lady, and I know it well. So if I seem ashamed of myself at times… Well. Mayhap, it's because I am." I put my other hand on his cheek and drew him to me for a kiss. He made no attempt to deepen it; I drew back after only a moment. "You're wrong," I told him. "And you've nothing to be ashamed of." He sighed, and spoke, whisper-soft. "I hope you live to change your mind about that, lady. But gods help me, I'm glad you think so." I changed the topic then, so I could see something other than sadness in his eyes. **** Later, in the quiet hours before dawn, I sat on my bed and let my eyes follow Draig's movements around the room. His shirt hung loose on his shoulders, unlaced at the front. I watched him thoughtfully and sipped the mulled wine that he'd brought up. "When did this happen?" He glanced up, looking as startled as I felt. "What do you mean?" "When did we become…" I searched for the right word, floundered, and chose another out of pure desperation. "…lovers?" Draig stopped and stared at me. For a moment, neither of us moved. "Is that what we are?" My fingers pulled the plait of my hair over my shoulder and twisted the braid furiously. "Aren't we?" He was silent another moment. "Does that … displease you?" "It bewilders me! I thought…I had not expected…I thought it was only one night that I was to be given, a taste of passion before my sacrifice. And now…It's been nearly a week and I, I don't know what…I can't—" I stumbled to a halt and stared at him helplessly. He sat on the bed with me and pressed a warm kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes, shivering. "Tell me what you want," he whispered. His lips brushed mine with each syllable. I opened my eyes. This close, all I could see was his face. "But you cannot give it to me." "Tell me," he urged. "I will see it done." I leaned away from him, breaking the kiss. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Draig." He watched me closely for a moment. His expression darkened. I think he guessed what I wanted. He dragged a hand through his hair. "Tell me what I may give you, then. Surely there is something." I looked out the window at the star-bright night for a moment. I spoke in a whisper. "There is nothing in your power to grant that I want, that you have not already given me. Everything else, you have already denied me." He slid closer and took my hands, raised them to his heart. "Will you not tell me?

Perhaps there is a way." "I would stay. I would stay here, as we are. As lovers, if you will." I didn't look at him. The stars twinkled down on us, merry after the day's victories, but I could not find the will to rejoice with them. "Or I would have you stay, and watch the sunrise with me." He said nothing, and neither did I. Somewhere distant, a bird took to song. Morning was coming. I sighed, got to my feet. His boots stood at the foot of the bed. I held them out to him. "Go, then, and do what you must." "Ryllana…" I turned my back to him and leaned against the casement. A chill breeze blew through the open window, the sort that sent women huddling into the warmth of their lover's embrace, to keep the cold at bay. But I did not move. "I'm sorry." "I know. I am, too," I whispered to the night.

Chapter Six Breakfast was brought to me and I ate it unhappily, sitting in the casement and thinking of Draig, of everything that lay between us. Words. Duties. Impossibilities. When I could bear no more of my own moroseness, I pushed the plate aside and changed into a clean gown, tied boots on my feet, and left the keep to walk beneath the eclipse. It was golden again today, a ring of fire that seemed to contain all of me, everything that was left. I ducked my head and watched where I placed my feet, so I would not have to look at it. I walked until sweat gathered along the length of my spine and I found myself standing before the kennels, smiling just to hear the riotous barking at my approach. Most of the hounds had been housed, the communal pen empty but for one hunched, human form. I slipped inside and through, stepping into the pen with a smile that faded when Belden raised his head from where he sat, cross-legged with a puppy in his lap and more around him. He gave me a stricken look. He held a bulging drinking skin, thick milk dripping from its narrow neck. The pup in his arms lapped at it eagerly, but weakly. "What has happened?" I asked, swiftly counting the others that crowded around him and wishing I hadn't, because there were too few. Too few, and far too gaunt. "Her milk's run dry," Belden said. The desperate confusion in his voice was painful to hear. "She's young yet, and she's had litters larger than this one without issue. I don't… I can't fathom it." I picked one up, cradled in my hands. He tried to nurse on my thumb. I caught my breath and wiped my damp cheeks on my shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?" He shook his head grimly. "None of the others will take them. There's naught left to be done but feed them, and hope it's enough." The lines graven in his face made it obvious he doubted it would be. I had come here seeking distraction in the joy of new life, and found only grief to compound my own instead. And it felt unfair of me to grieve for these pups in front of Belden. I had not helped deliver them, or watched them grow these past weeks. I had only played with them once, briefly. What was my grief to his? I made my excuses and left in a daze, staggering blindly until I found myself in the gardens, on the path below my window where desiccated roses lay strewn at my feet, the remnants of my fit of pique days before. I crouched and lifted a petal, dark as blood in moonlight. It crumbled to dust beneath my touch, scattering on the wind. I swept them aside, clearing the path of them and the reminders they stood for, the home I had lost and the unending progress of death and decay. I left them puddled beneath the bushes, so dark you almost couldn't tell shadow from rose, and continued on into the heart of the gardens. I wanted to lose myself in the heady perfume and the muted riot of colors, but I could not cleanse my memory of the sight of those poor, skinny puppies, and it clouded my senses until everything seemed grey, and all I could smell was dust. It should have smelled of water and wet earth after the rain the day before, but everything seemed as dry as the cast-off roses, as brittle as my mood. I sat at last, too weary to continue, and plucked a stem from a lavender bush. It

rattled like a barren tree in winter, and a shower of violet petals rained down over my hand upon my lap, leaving me holding a thin, spindly twig. I stared down at it in shock, then turned to look at the bush I'd taken it from. It was withered and dry. Dying, if not dead already. The other plants in its lot were in a similar state. I stood, unsteady, and found every lot in the garden like that. Flowers and bushes that had been lush days before now looked as though they hadn't been tended in months. I stumbled back to the bench and sank my trembling fingers into the fabric of my skirts. It was not some blight that had devastated these plants, or some tragedy of nature that had caused a healthy bitch's milk to run dry. It was not a coincidence. I knew it could not be. It was an omen. I knew it as surely as I knew my own heart. An omen, and my fault. The priests had said that we would lose this battle without the sacrifice of my strength to Teppal's beast. And now? I lived, and the land around me withered. My future branched before me, and I knew where each path led. I died by Teppal's beast, and the world lived. Or I did not, and the world ended, and I along with it. I thought I had understood the alternatives. I'd thought the world would end in an instant, a blaze of fire as our world was annihilated between one breath and the next. I had not thought that I would have to watch the world fade around me, to walk through its dying lands and know that it was all due to my cowardice. "Ah, Bright One," I groaned, and pressed my face to my knees. "How can you ask this of me?" The wind sighed through the dry foliage, my only answer. I walked. Filled with a restless energy, it was all I could do not to run, to tear through the castle and the gardens, to burst free from my confinement and not stop until I had left this impasse far behind me. That was impossible, of course. It didn't matter where I went. The world would end, or my life would. But walk I could do, and did, circling the gardens for hours, my hands twisting in the rope that girdled my dress. And when my legs ached and I felt certain I could not walk another step, I dropped to my knees in the earth and saw to the garden. I carefully broke the dead branches from the plants, stacking them in an ever-growing pile. I left the poor things looking barren and skeletal, but at least they were freed of their litter. It was not nearly enough, but it was all I could do to ameliorate the effects of my cowardice. A wind came, disturbing my pile of clippings. I scowled and pushed my hair out of my face with a frustrated breath, then noticed a distant sound like drumbeats or thunder. I raised my head. The eclipse sat close on the horizon. A shadow blocked out the stars overhead, moving swiftly across the sky. As it grew closer, I could make it out better. Teppal's beast circled above the castle, massive leathery wings beating the air, a serpentine neck craning as he looked for—something. A place to land? Me? Resolution settled over me like a mantle. I lifted my skirts and ran, not knowing where I was headed, only that it was toward the beast who would shape my destiny, one way or another.

I stumbled through the fields, past stable and mews and kennel. I burst out into a clearing of long, waving grasses circled by trees, a solid black barrier in the darkening night. Teppal's beast stood before me, daunting even from a hundred paces away. I caught my breath. My feet slowed of their own accord to a reverent pace. Reverence. Not a thing I'd ever thought to feel in the presence of the beast who would take my life, but it was the only word for it. He was a great creature, towering above me even from a distance. Starlight gleamed off scales so dark a shade of green they were nearly black. The grasses that brushed my waist as I walked through them barely reached to the creature's ankle. His wings arched high overhead, the membranes stretched so thin I could see starlight through them. He folded them against his spine and stirred the air in the clearing like a tempest. I held my hair out of my face as it whipped in the violent winds. The massive beast's head jerked up, held aloft on its long, thick neck. It snaked around until the creature looked directly at me with eyes that shone like suns. I would have fallen to my knees, but I could not move. It approached, each slow step sending tremors through the ground beneath our feet. I bowed my head before it, seized with a strange mix of terror and calm. It stopped, crouched. Its thick neck arched gracefully overhead as it bent its head low over the grasses. I could not meet its gaze. I stood before it, trembling all over. The creature's nostrils flared, and something kindled deep within those burning eyes. I gripped my skirts until my knuckles ached. Slowly, the beast crouched, until it lay stretched across the full length of the clearing. Its massive, spiked tail curled around its haunches, and it laid its head on the ground. I approached slowly, aware with every fiber of my being that I stood just as high as the massive teeth that curved from its jaws. I drew closer, and the great creature did not move. It watched my approach from one giant eye. I half expected it to snatch me up and claim my life then and there, but even when I stood an arm's length away, dwarfed and insignificant, it did not move except to blink at me. Slowly, I stretched my hand out and touched the scales along the beast's muzzle, broader even than two of my handspans and glossy-smooth. The beast rumbled, sighed a great, gusting breath. I cried out softly, unable to help myself, but did not flee. "Ah, my lord." I was humbled by his majesty. It blinked at me, huffed, sounding like a rockslide. I closed my eyes and drew an unsteady breath. "My lord," I tried again, gathering scraps of courage about me like a cloak. "Please. You brought me here for a reason, yet have left it unfulfilled. Do you not see the way the land withers about us? Please. It cannot endure this." Its great eye narrowed at me. I fancied it looked inquisitive, but reckoned it my own folly. It did not respond, except for that. It seemed to be waiting for something. Waiting for me. I drew another deep breath. "My lord, you must accept the sacrifice you have demanded from me." The beast jerked away, so swiftly and suddenly that I staggered back. Its head stretched high overhead, tilted up to the field of stars above us. It gave a cry that could

not have been rivaled by any other sound in this world, a hundred thousand clarion calls made simultaneously, the sound of grief and hope and joy and despair in one. I fell to my knees and curled my arms over my head, crying out at the terrible sound. "Please!" I cried into the clamor, but I might as well have tried to drain the sea with a thimble. "I cannot bear it!" Even I could not have said whether I meant the beast's deafening cry, or the fate that awaited the world so long as I lived. He quieted, eventually, and turned mournful eyes down on me. I pressed my fists to my mouth, afraid he would accept my offer and afraid he would not. "Please," I whispered, and thought he heard. Slowly, the creature shook its massive head. It called again, quieter, though still deafening, and leapt up into the sky with two powerful strokes of its wings. It rose, dwindling in size as it soared above me, and turned and flew away. I buried my face in my hands and wept. The stars wheeled through the heavens, and I could not contain my grief long enough to rise and return to the castle. I knelt in the damp earth and wept while the grasses rustled around me, quiet whispers that could do nothing to comfort or console. It was closer to dawn than dusk when I heard footsteps. I raised my head, turned. Draig stood several paces behind me, watching me with his dark, solemn gaze. I reached for him, wordless. He came to take my hand and kneel with me. "Lady," he murmured, and I could not bear it. I threw my arms about his neck. "He will not take me," I cried, and wept on his shoulders. "The world is dying and it is my fault, and he will not let me end it!" Draig held me close, his grip as tight as a vise. I clutched at him and did not protest, needing the strength of his arms around me. "Ah, lady, do not do this to yourself." He sounded as pained as I felt. "It is only that he loves you too well, that is all." "Loves me!" I laughed bitterly. "Did he love me, he would not force such torment on me! I cannot bear to watch the world I love die around me, Draig. I am too weak to endure it." "Weak?" He looked down at me, stricken. "You would give your life for a world that has forsaken you, and you name it weakness?" I closed my eyes and shuddered within his embrace. Tears dripped down my cheeks and fell to the ground beneath us, rain from the violent storm of my distress. "Why, Draig?" I sat up and wiped at my tears. "Why does he reject me? And do not say he loves me, for I do not believe it." Draig only squeezed my hand and looked up toward the heavens. "I do not have an answer for you, lady. Will you let me give you comfort, instead?" I looked at him through my tears, through the starlight. I reached to touch his face. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked with a sigh. "Bright One!" He turned his face away from my touch, covered it with his hands. "Do not name me thus, I beg you." I rolled onto my knees and drew his hands from his face, though he fought me. "What should I name you, then?" My fingers traced over the curve of his brow. He blinked dark eyes at me through the starlight. "Beloved?" "Ah, lady," he groaned. "Not that, either, or you will surely break my heart."

"But it's the truth." I brushed my mouth over his. His breath was warm and sweet, his lips soft. I slid my hands through his hair, as luxurious as silk, and did not allow him to retreat. "Would you have me lie?" "No. Gods help me, but I am glad to know it." I curled my hands around the back of his neck and drew him to me, angling my mouth over his. His pulse fluttered against my fingertips where I held his wrists. "Ryllana." His gaze was downcast. My fingers flexed, spasming tighter around him. "You offered me comfort," I reminded him, terrified that he would draw away from me and I would lose this connection. I pulled him toward me. "Do not deny me now." He leaned his brow against mine. Strands of his hair drifted over my face, caught on my lips. "I will not." I could taste him on his breath and I searched for his mouth with mine, seeking him. I drew him down into the grasses with me, and he rolled so that I was beneath him, his body stretched over me. His dark hair fell like a curtain around us, but faint starlight still glimmered through the strands as they swung. I reached up to him and spread my hands over the sides of his face, watching the shadows sweep over his cheeks as he blinked at me. "Here?" I nodded, fingers denting his skin. A bed and a room would be softer, warmer. But the thought of parting from Draig, even just long enough to walk back to the keep, made my skin prickle with distress. I pulled his mouth down to mine, kissing him with all the urgency that raged within me. I teased his lips apart and swept into his mouth, claiming him for my own. His fingers skimmed over my cheek, brushed down my throat to the neck of my gown. I buried my hands in his hair, holding his mouth to mine, and arched against him in silent encouragement. His touch slid down my side, bumping over my ribs and then spreading wide over the flare of my hips. I writhed beneath him, lifting my weight off the ground so I could ruck my skirt up, baring a leg to the chill night air, and my skin to his touch. He slipped up beneath the wool almost hesitantly, and the touches he gave were gentle and soothing, not caressing. His hand splayed over the small of my back and drew me closer against him. He broke from the kiss and trailed his lips down my neck, buried his face against my throat as he held me. I slid my hands around his shoulders and held him, too, staring up at the sky above us. Stars winked in and out of existence as wispy clouds scudded by. I slipped a hand up to the back of Draig's head and turned my face to his. "Ryllana," he murmured, undemanding, just saying my name as though it meant something. I hooked my leg over his and pressed my face to his shirt, letting the fabric wick away my tears. "Draig." My voice trembled. "Take me away from this. Away from here." He trembled beneath my palm. "Whatever you want, lady." His hands stroked up my arms, fingers tracing over the sensitive skin at the insides of my elbows. His fingers laced with mine, pressed my hands down into the dirt and the grass. He levered himself up above me, looking down though the dark and his tumbling hair. I'd have reached for him and traced his features with my fingertips. If my hands had

not been pinned, I'd have pulled him down to me and rolled him over onto his back, so he could not deny me. He brushed delicate kisses as soft as whispers over my cheeks, and every kiss bore soft, sweet words with it. I couldn't make them out, but his voice wrapped around me like a blanket, bringing warmth and comfort with them. I burrowed my face against Draig's chest, listening to the thud of his heart beneath his breast and the way it tripped every time I touched him. He released me, just one hand. I slipped it beneath the edge of his shirt and up his back, solid and warm even in the chill of the night. Then down again, to unfasten his pants and pull them down over his hips. They caught around his thighs because he knelt on the ground, and he had to release my other hand to shuck them off. I sat up, pushing my hair back out of my face, and when Draig returned to me I reached my arms out to him. He caught me in a fierce embrace and pulled me close against his chest. I shifted, straddling his thighs, my skirt gathered high about my own. We clutched at one another, leaning against one another. Draig's fingers dug into my back with something fiercer than just need. I eased back and trailed a touch of his cheek, lifting his face to mine. "What is it? Draig, what is wrong?" He drew a long, shuddering unsteady breath, and his grip on me eased. "You are distressed. Is that not enough?" I smoothed my hands over his cheeks and turned his face to mine. He looked grim, hopeless, and I remembered that he'd been haggard when he first came to me, before I'd told him a thing about my distress. I did not chide him for dissembling, or demand the truth from him. I leaned in for a kiss, lingered and deepened it when it seemed he might withdraw. I took his hands—my fingers circling his wrists, this time—and guided them, deliberately, to land high on my ribs. He seemed to hesitate. And then, with another great breath, his hands slid higher, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my gown. I shuddered and leaned into him, into the caress. His touch moved over me slowly, wonderingly. I shifted closer to him, thighs on either side of his, skin pressed to skin and radiating heat like fire. There was nothing between us, nothing to keep us apart but Draig's reservations. I curled my fingers into the narrowest part of his waist and pulled him sharply against me, nipping at the edge of his throat. "Draig. Please. Don't leave me here. I need—" My breath caught, hitched. "I need to be somewhere else, just for tonight. Please." He groaned against my skin, nodding. His arms wrapped around my back and he rocked forward, bearing me down onto my back, my legs locked around his hips. I lost my breath completely when he fit his hips against mine and bore down, pressing into me. We fit together like two halves of a broken whole, jagged and raw edges finding completion in the other. I clutched him tightly to me, face pressed into the cambric of his shirt, feeling the beat of his heart beneath it. He moved in me slowly, so pleasure rose like the fog and wrapped around us, fading everything else into the grey. I pressed my open mouth to his throat, trembling as our bodies strained toward one another. The fog thickened as pleasure rose, leaving us

both shaking in one another's embrace. I could feel the fine trembles that slid over Draig's skin, beneath my fingertips. He flexed his hips again, pressed into me until I could take no more. I arched beneath him with a muffled cry. He looked down at me and brushed his thumb over my lips, then leaned down and kissed them. I grabbed handfuls of his hair and lost myself in the kiss, in the slow, easy rhythm of his body moving against mine. The pleasure-fog around us thickened, left us gasping and sheened with sweat even in the coolness of night. My body tightened as pleasure wound through it, shivering, then shaking. I dug my fingers into Draig's shoulders and whispered against his lips, begging for release, and at the same time pleading for it never to end. It had to, of course. The motions of Draig's body over mine became sharper, insistent. Pleasure wrapped so tight that it began to cut, keen-edged and painful. I could not control the movements of my body…it shook like a tree in a gale, writhed beneath Draig without any thought of mine, echoing his motions of thrust and withdrawal, seeking the oblivion that seemed so close, just beyond my grasp. I reached the peak with a shuddering broken cry, body bowed and trembling, fireworks bursting across my vision as Draig groaned and locked his hips to mine. The warmth of completion, of satisfaction, chased away the greedy fire of need, leaving me limp and languid in Draig's arms. He pressed a sweet kiss to my shoulder, and for a while neither of us moved. But soon enough Draig's exposed skin began to chill beneath my fingers. He straightened, and helped me sit up, and we parted to repair ourselves. I swept crushed grasses from my skirt, tugged a fallen sleeve back up onto my shoulder. Draig dressed, and stood above me, quiet. I kept my gaze angled slightly away from him, feeling awkward and vulnerable, aware once again of the rawness that his absence left me with, like a wound unbandaged too soon. "Ryllana," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth, and I found that I could look at him after all. I reached a hand up, let him help me to my feet. He wrapped me in an embrace, his face buried in my hair, and for a moment we just stood like that, clinging to one another as the fog drifted away and we stood once again in the midst of our world, surrounded by duties and demands, a world that was dying and an eclipse that would rise too soon. We walked back to the keep with our hands clasped together, and when we reached my room, Draig climbed up onto the bed with me. I held him close, pressed tight against the warmth of his chest. Safe, at least for that moment. I let myself drift into the embrace of sleep. "Ah, Bright One," I heard him whisper breathe against my hair as exhaustion dragged me toward oblivion. "What am I to do?" I didn't have an answer for him. I wasn't even sure I understood the question. Darkness claimed me before I could rouse myself to ask what he meant. I slept late the next day, and woke to an eclipse that bled into the sky.

Chapter Seven If there is anything worse than waiting for a loved one to return and knowing he will do so grievously harmed, it is not a torment I have known, and I thank the gods for that small mercy. I spent every moment of that day with my heart in my throat, and thought dusk would never come. I paced the ruined gardens, alternating cursing Teppal and pleading with him. I did not know what role Draig performed for the beast, or where he went each morning. I only knew that the last time the eclipse had glowed crimson, Draig had returned to me covered in blood. Night approached with creeping steps, while I wore tracks in the flagstones. I heard the beast's approach before I saw him, heralded home by the great pulse of his wings in the air. My heart kept time with it, each wingbeat, each heartbeat a beacon of hope and despair. He neared, and the beat became an erratic rhythm, stuttering like a failing heart. He emerged from the twilit clouds, still a great distance away, and even so I could see the way he floundered in the air, listing about with a drunkard's gait. I ran to the field where we had met before, every step fueled by love and fear. We arrived nearly at the same time, and nearly in the same manner. I tripped over my own feet and staggered out onto the field in something closer to a tumble than aught else. I got my feet beneath me, only to be thrown from them by the impact of the beast's final crash to earth. He ended sprawled in a ragdoll heap, wings splayed at improbable angles. I dragged myself up and ran to him, and this time felt no reverence whatsoever. "Where is he?" I demanded, standing at his muzzle and glaring, too desperate to be intimidated. "I know he accompanies you! Tell me where he is!" My voice broke. "Tell me he is well." The beast opened one eye and looked down at me with a gaze gone orange and grey, like dying coals. It gave one feeble, deafening cry and closed its eye again. It tried to raise its head, failed, and let it crash back to the ground. And then it…melted. The creature's great bulk shimmered and ran like a painter's canvas doused with turpentine. Colors bled, shifted, washed away. And when my vision cleared, the beast was gone and Draig lay in the grass before me, still. "No." I rushed forward, fell to my knees at his side. "Draig! Ah, Bright One, speak to me!" His breath rattled through his lungs, but I wept with relief to hear it. I had thought him dead already. His eyes opened to crescents. He sought me with a glazed look. I caught my breath. I did not understand what had happened with the beast. I had thought it Teppal's magic, that he had gone elsewhere and left Draig to my care. Draig looked at me, though, and I knew in an instant that I had been wrong. The creature had never left at all. Draig looked at me, and the pain I saw in his eyes was the same that I had seen within the beast's great, lambent gaze. Exactly the same. I fell on Draig's chest, weeping. "Gods! Why didn't you tell me?" A touch at my hair made me jerk back. Draig let his hand fall to his side. "Lady," he

whispered, broken. "I am glad to see you." I sniffed and dashed tears from my cheeks. "You will not be, when I tan your hide for this stunt," I threatened with a severity I had no heart for, simply because I knew it would make him smile. "I think Teppal will see his justice before you have a chance at yours." His voice came labored and pained. It made me cringe to hear it. "Don't you speak that way!" "It's truth, lady. I wish it weren't." He closed his eyes, shuddered. "I am dying, Ryllana. I have lived long enough to know that." He looked up at me, suddenly intent. "I am sorry. For all the sorrows I have caused you." I clutched at his hand and paid no mind to the tears that fell from my cheeks. "I will forgive you all the others if you will not cause me this one." He sighed, shook his head. The corner of his mouth curled, a feeble smile. "You always demand the impossible." His words sparked something in me. I tightened my grip on his hand. "Draig! You are Teppal's creature?" He gave a soft, thready laugh. "Isn't it obvious yet?" I took that for assent, and ignored the flippancy. "Draig—Ah, Draig! You must do as I ask, this once, and then never again, I swear it!" His cough rattled in his chest. "Can't, lady." "This one you can." I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his fingertips. "Swear to me you will. Swear it!" Draig shook his head, wheezing. "I fear what you would ask of me." "You must accept my sacrifice." I gripped his hand when he would have pulled it away. "And that you can do for me." He stared up at me, horror-struck. "No. Lady, no." "But you are dying!" "You think this will save me? Should I take your life, I could not bear to live a moment longer." While I'd had hope, I'd had strength. With that gone, my tears began anew, and I sobbed nearly too hard to speak. "Do not ask this of me! Do not make me watch you die, Draig. I cannot stand it!" Tears shone bright in Draig's eyes, spilled in trails down his cheeks. "I must see you live, Ryllana. Will you deny me that final happiness?" "Live for what? To watch the world fade around me? To perish by slow starvation? What life is that?" He started to respond, but stopped to turn his head aside and cough. Blood flecked his lips, and I knew that it was nearly too late. "Please, Draig, I beg of you. I am dead either way. If you will not do it for yourself, do it that those I love might live." His lips pressed together into a thin, pale line. He shook his head. "I cannot. Even were you to convince me, I am not strong enough to do what is needful." I took his face between my hands. "Then I shall give you the strength you need." He tried to evade my kiss, but between us, I was the stronger. I pressed my mouth firmly to his. His breath stuttered against my lips. He made a small, weak sound of protest. But I kissed him, and refused to allow him

to retreat from it. A moment passed, and the rattling in his lungs eased. Another, and his fingers tightened on my shoulders. It was not enough—not enough to save him. But enough to allow him to take from me what I was fated to give. Draig's arms closed around me. He rolled, pinning me to the ground, and kissed me fiercely. When I buried my hands in his hair and met his passion with my own, he tore away and pressed his face to my shoulder. "Bright One," he breathed against my skin. "Forgive me." And then all was pain. **** Light. A shuddering breath, and the scent of oxygen in my lungs. I rolled, groaned. Opened my eyes and saw Draig sprawled next to me. "Ah, no…" I pulled myself to his side. Every muscle ached, and every movement was an agony, but the greater pain was the thought that he had left me. "Damn it, Draig. One thing I asked of you…" He coughed, rolled over, and retched. I leapt back in startlement. "Forgive me, lady. I tried to give it to you." "Draig…" He straightened, wiping his mouth clean. He stared at me, and I at him. Both of us alive, if bedraggled and somewhat worse for the wear. Dirt and dried blood clung to him, and he had never looked more beautiful. I reached for him, trembling. "I don't understand…" "Nor do I." He took my hand. Warm, solid flesh pressed to mine. I let out a quiet sob. "Ah, gods." He pulled me to him, and clutched at me with a fierce embrace. I wrapped my arms about his neck and held him tightly. "I do not care. You live. I thought—I thought I had killed you." His voice broke, filled with such self-loathing that I nearly regretted demanding it of him. I ran my hands over his hair, covering his face with kisses while I whispered breathless reassurances. "Indeed, you did." The voice came from behind me. Draig stared over my shoulder. I turned. A man stood watching us, clad in gilded armor that shone like a sun. Golden hair spilled around his shoulders, and amber eyes watched us with faint amusement. "Bright One," Draig whispered, and I knew this time it was not an oath. The god inclined his head, acknowledgment. Draig knelt in the grass and bent low, his brow nearly touching the earth. "My lord. Whatever I have done to please you so well, this…This is more than I can ever repay." Teppal's amusement deepened. "You don't think you have done enough?" Draig raised his head, stared at Teppal with bewildered, tearstained eyes. "I have done nothing, my lord. I nearly failed you." "Nearly." Teppal shrugged, as though Draig's peril was inconsequential. "You did what was needed, all the same." "I killed her." "Yes. Just so."

The god walked toward us. I fisted my hands in the grass; it was all I could do not to scramble backwards. He crouched before me and touched a hand beneath my chin. I shuddered shook at the contact. "And you bid him to." I stared up at Teppal, the Bright One, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. "I could not let him die." He angled his head and regarded me in silence for a moment. I struggled to remain still beneath his inspection. "You gave your strength to him, that he might live. That the world might endure." I nodded, unable to speak. Teppal, too, nodded, and seemed satisfied. "Well and so. I'd have demanded your life, young maiden, make no mistake of that. But you offered it, though it gave you no benefit. There is power in that." He rose to his feet, looming above us, more beautiful than any likeness could capture. "I will not have it said that I am ungracious with the gifts I am given." I licked my lips, ventured to speak. "Is that… Is that why I didn't die?" "Oh, you did die, little maid. I only gave you into another form." I stared at him, waiting, but he said nothing more, and I still did not understand. "Dawn will be here soon enough," he said enigmatically. "Then you will see if this gift pleases you." Draig grasped it before I did. He gaped up at the god. "You have made her … as I am?" Teppal inclined his head. "Why?" This cry was mine, and the god turned to answer it. I stared at him, hands gripping the grass tight. I did not know how I felt. "For your sacrifice," he said patiently. "For your willingness to do the unthinkable." He hesitated, turned to Draig and murmured, "And yours. That's twice now, when I had not expected even the first." I looked to Draig for an explanation, but he looked just as confused as I felt. Teppal gave a delighted laugh. "Don't you remember?" Draig shook his head slowly. "Remember what, my lord?" "How you came to be here, of course. Why I gave you wings." "No." His voice was harsh, his expression panicked. "You did not—I have always been—" "Ah, no." The god laughed again. "You have not always been. Not quite. Don't you remember the boy you used to be, young and brave and so willing to give your life for your liege?" "No," Draig said. "It's been so long. I don't remember." But I did. I remembered a cold, grey day spent in the pages of a minstrel's journal, and the tale of a boy who had given his life to save a king, and was saved in turn by Teppal himself. I pressed my fists to my brow. I could not breathe. "There is a price," I gasped. I knew the legends. "There is always a price." Teppal looked at me. He seemed pleased. "So there is." "Name it." He gazed up at the constellations. Teppal's warriors, we had called them. "The battle

continues. Nelru endures, and my beast cannot defeat her on his own. Help him. Lend him your strength. Fight her together, for as long as you live. Do that, and I shall ensure that it is a very long time." I looked at Draig. He took my hands. "It is hard," he said. "Harder than dying?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not so hard as losing you." "Then it is not so hard at all." I pressed my lips to his, then looked to Teppal. "You will do this?" "Yes." He nodded. "Good. Your time is your own until she claims the sky. She will come with the dawn; you have until then." I nodded. The god smiled, and vanished. My gaze gravitated back to Draig, unable to stay away. He watched me sidelong, visibly hesitant. "Ah, Draig." I grabbed his hair and kissed him. "It is not so bad, is it?" A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. "It has not been, with you to come home to." "Now we shall come home together." The eclipse rose, and as Teppal's light shone down on us, the world stretched and shimmered before my eyes. And when it cleared, Draig and I stood together, two great, winged beasts, he a green so dark it was nearly black, and I the color of blood in moonlight. Together, we flew toward the jealous goddess Nelru, and the war I had come here to end. And when the eclipse sank below the horizon, we returned together, battered and weary and sore, but well. And tumbled together into my chamber to take our respite. I threw myself onto my bed and sprawled there, staring up at the ceiling and glorying in the novelty of being alive. Draig sat at my side, toying with the ends of my hair. "Do you regret it?" he asked me softly. "Not a moment." I turned my head to look at him. "Are you not pleased you gave me what I asked for?" He gave a brief laugh and shook his head. "I still cannot believe it, lady. Ask me again once I am sure I'm not dreaming." "Draig," I said. He curled my hair around his finger. "There is aught else." "What would you have of me?" His voice was a distracted murmur. I shivered at the warmth in it, and the brush of his hand against my throat. "Roses," I said. "Hundreds of them." He leaned over to look down at me, his hair hanging about us, his eyes heated. "That is what you want?" "Yes." I caught my breath. He bent over me, brushed his mouth to mine. "I will give you all that you desire," he whispered. So he did, and when the night was done, we stood together in the casement and watched the sun rise, pouring light over a clear blue sky.

The End About the Author: Aislinn Kerry wrote her first romance on a whim and hasn’t been able to stop since. She has always been fascinated with the misfits, the misunderstood, and things that go bump in the night. She blames it on an unnatural obsession with Beauty and the Beast at an impressionable age. You can drop her an email at [email protected], or visit her at www.aislinnkerry.com. Aislinn currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with two cats who think they own the place.

Meet Lsb Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.Net We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!