Allegiance Sworn (3 page)

“I expect the usual ten percent tribute,
Na
Meelar.” She stabbed a finger at him as he took a breath to protest. “Regardless of whether you recapture those escaped slaves or not.”

Imhara held the boat-master’s gaze until he tilted his head in submission. She nodded for Rassan to begin choosing. At least six humans would be saved this day. She wished it could be more, but demanding a further tribute would draw attention to her actions. Best play it safe. For now.

“Have your warriors finish their auction preparations swiftly.” Tattooing the slave-mark on the others would take a couple of hours. A swift glance at the sun made up her mind. “Your slave-train should make it through the pass by dusk.”

Meelar’s purple gaze lit with surprise then more disapproval. “My
Na’Hord
have been away on this raid for almost two weeks. They’re hungry and tired and would appreciate the comforts of a soft bed, food, and entertainment.”

Demanding Clan hospitality was justified, but she had no wish for company, not with new humans to introduce into her fortress. They’d been frightened enough, and their transition into their new lives would be delayed if their captors stayed overnight.

Imhara pointed with her chin toward the corralled war-beasts. “I’ve supplied half a dozen head to make transporting your cargo across the mountains simpler. Quicker.”

Meelar would be unlikely to provide the humans with blankets during their trek, so they would most probably sleep beside the docile beasts. The animals’ shaggy coats would provide them with warmth at night as the caravan made its way into Gannec territory.

“Their saddlebags are well provisioned with supplies for your journey through the mountains. Consider them a gift, an alternate source of Clan hospitality.” She waved a hand. “I’d advise you to be through the pass by dusk. I don’t have to tell you how unpredictable the weather can be in the ranges.”

A month ago, the boat-master’s
Na’Hord
had been the ones to find the frozen corpses of a patrol who had left travelling through Skadda Pass until too late in the day. They’d been caught in a freak, late-summer blizzard.

Meelar’s lip curl was just short of a sneer, but she suspected he’d heed her warning. He executed a shallow bow. “Until next time then,
Na
Kaal.”

Imhara returned to her mount, leaving Rassan in charge of securing the small group of humans she took as payment for the slaver’s access through her territory. Her mouth twisted. Meelar would write it off as part of the trade.

Vice. Exploitation. Reputation. Power. Everything she abhorred about her race but was forced to perpetuate to ensure the survival of her Clan’s legacy. She shook her head. Their ancestors would turn in their tombs to see how ingrained corruption was within
Na’Reish
society now.

Imhara leaned against the side of her mount, inhaling the strong, heavy musk of its coat, a soul-deep weariness weighing her shoulders down.
Lady’s Breath
, so many relied on her.

She shivered. How much longer could her Clan go on living this double lifestyle? How much longer could she? Yet discovery would condemn every one of them to death.

“
Na
Kaal.”

Rassan’s deep voice came from behind her. She took another deep breath and turned. Deep violet eyes flecked with the faintest yellow met hers. His head tilted to one side, silently questioning.

“We’re ready to leave,” he reported, his voice reflecting none of his concern for her. His worry warmed the coldness inside her, gave her the strength to focus.

“Then let’s go.” Her smile was strained. “Double-time.”

She mounted and settled into the saddle on her
Vorc
. Meelar’s warriors were already dividing into groups. One to tattoo and register the humans, another to saddle the war-beasts in preparation for their journey over the mountains. The deckhands were securing the slave-boat for the time they returned to complete another raid-and-run.

Imhara dug her heels into the sides of her mount, eager to get away from the river. She caught the gazes of two of her
Na’Hord
, and nodded sharply. They peeled off and disappeared into the forest to begin their task of following Meelar, making sure he left Kaal territory.

She glanced toward Rassan and his unconscious passenger, impatient to finish their journey now the unpleasant task of dealing with the boat-master was over. She wanted to get back to her fortress as quickly as possible and find out what her Second found so fascinating about the human draped across the saddle of his mount.

Chapter 3

“A
Light Blade warrior?” Imhara stopped short of the thick wooden door of her bedroom. Her heart began to race.

Whirling on her boot heel, she stared at Rassan, all thoughts of settling the new arrivals into their quarters and the myriad tasks still awaiting her attention at her desk in the library gone from her head with his startling revelation.

She frowned. “But he was dressed as a farmer.” There’d been no armor, no boots, no
Lady’s
amulet around his neck. “Are you sure?”

“I felt the power of
Her
in him. He used it to kill Meelar’s warriors. The way he used the blade, the moves . . . he’s had training. He’s no crofter or latent Gifted.”

In the flickering light of the lantern hung on the wall by her door, half of Rassan’s face was darkened by shadow, and the effect served to reinforce the seriousness of his claim.

“You’ve never doubted my Gift before.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Why start now?”

Lady of Light
, if he was right, then this human could be the key to Clan Kaal’s survival, the answer to her prayers, especially given the timing and content of Savyr’s last missive.

The Clan gathering wasn’t the issue. She’d attended many over the years, but the subject of her status as an unmated female was now on Savyr’s agenda; not that she’d revealed this to anyone yet, least of all Rassan.

After her parents’ death, she’d expected pressure to mate. The why wasn’t too hard to figure out. Savyr made no secret of wanting Kaal Province and sole access to the slave-route. She had her suspicions about who had murdered her family, but there was no doubt in her mind that Savyr had given the order.

After four years of fending off every
Na’Reishi
Lordling and anticipating and dreading when the
Na’Rei
would force the issue, the wait was over. One order from him to mate and a refusal would mean her life, and the lives of every man, woman, and child—human,
Na’Chi
, and
Na’Reish
alike—in her Clan.

Agreeing would elicit the same fate, as there was no way her Clan could keep their lifestyle a secret from their new
Na
. If war with the humans was imminent, mating her or killing her would give Savyr exactly what he wanted.

Imhara balled her fists. Neither scenario would happen. Not now. Not in a month. Not in this lifetime. Nothing would stop her making sure her Clan was safe.

She sucked in a slow breath, trying to calm her rapid pulse. Her attention should be on the human and the plan she’d worked so hard to bring about. It was within her grasp.

“Of course I believe you, my friend. I meant no insult,” she murmured and laid a hand on Rassan’s arm. “It’s just that we’ve waited so long for the improbable to happen. Where did you put him?”

He nodded toward her room. “In there, on your bed. It’s the only place secure enough to hold a Light Blade.”

“Secure enough?” Her jaw dropped and she shot a startled glance at the door. “You shackled him to my bed?”

Deep laughter rumbled up from her Second’s chest, but it was quickly smothered when she glared at him.

“You’d risk an enraged warrior loose in the fortress?” One dark eyebrow winged high on his forehead as he folded his brawny arms. “Because you know that’s what he’ll be when he wakes up.”

“But to manacle him? He’s not a slave, Rassan.”

“I know that but he doesn’t. Until you can convince him he’s not, I won’t risk anyone’s safety, let alone yours, by leaving him unfettered.” He shrugged, a grin still twitching his lips. “Besides, your bed is the only one equipped with chains strong enough to hold him. It was the most logical place to put him.”

Nothing turned off males with the ambition of mating her to become the new Kaal
Na
faster than flaunting her preferences as a
Na’Reishi
whose proclivities extended to taking unwilling human lovers.

Heat rushed into her cheeks. “But the chains are only for show—” The idea of using them on anyone . . . She grimaced and shook her head. “Keeping him locked up will only reinforce the message that he’s my slave.”

The smile disappeared from Rassan’s face. “Make no mistake, Imhara, he will try to kill you.” His large hands gripped her shoulders. “Talk to him. Explain what you can.”

“I can really see a Light Blade warrior taking me on my word that this Clan follows the Old Ways.” Her retort was harsher than she intended it to be. “Convincing him isn’t going to be easy, Rassan.”

“Give him time to absorb it. Don’t free him without someone else being there with you. Promise me that.”

Imhara nodded, sighing heavily. Those rescued from the slave-raids were always suspicious, at least until they experienced life here. How long would it take to convince the Light Blade?

A familiar gnawing sensation roiled in her gut. “There may not be enough time between now and the Enclave for him to adjust.”

While establishing her controversial reputation had been a temporary measure, Imhara wondered if her plan to elicit a Light Blade’s help to save her Clan was too ambitious. She bit her lip. To him, she was his enemy. He’d spent his whole life killing her race. What if he wouldn’t trust her?

Rassan placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Wait until problems arise before worrying about them, Imhara.” His tone softened. “You’re tired. Perhaps you should wait until morning before meeting the Light Blade.”

She shook her head. “I want to be there when he wakes. He’s going to need answers.”

“Then I’ll stay with him. You take my room. Rest. Sleep.”

Warmed again by Rassan’s concern and his unswerving loyalty, she met the younger man’s violet gaze. “Thank you for the offer, but this is my responsibility.”

The dark-haired warrior inclined his head. She turned toward her door.

“Imhara”—his hand caught her elbow—“your weapons,” he murmured. “Let me take them. No need to give the Light Blade any incentive to break free.”

She grunted and unbuckled her belt, the metal jingling softly in the quietness of the corridor. “More than he already has, don’t you mean?”

As Rassan looped the belt over his shoulder, his grin returned. “Patience and time, Imhara. Give the human both and you’ll achieve your goal. Remember that.” She nodded. “And when you need a break, come wake me and I’ll watch over him.”

Rassan left her standing in front of her bedroom door, his boots thudding on the stone floor as he walked to his chamber at the end of the hallway. Imhara waited until he went in before placing her hand on the metal latch of her door.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and entered her room.

Chapter 4

A
REK
fought his way back to consciousness, the need to know why he still lived stalking him like a
lira
driving its prey into an ambush. It took an eternity to shake off the fog numbing his mind, but little by little, he pieced together a series of impressions.

His muscles ached, like he’d been in one position too long, yet whatever he rested on was soft and warm. Coupled with that, he lay on his back, his arms pulled back, stretched wide to either side of his head. He flexed them and tried to move, but cold metal bit into his wrists and the sound of chains rasped against metal and wood. The same happened when he tried to move his feet.

His heavy eyelids finally opened. He stared up into a shadowy darkness that wavered and flickered. Disoriented, he blinked, wondering if he had motion sickness again. To his right, a crackling, popping sound broke the silence. A familiar sweet scent filled his nostrils.

Flames eating needle-tree wood.

Firelight created the dance of shadows and light, not motion sickness. He turned his head. A dying fire burned in a grate. To one side of the fireplace, a shuttered window gave no indication of the time of day, but the flames threw out enough light so that he could see he was in a small stone-walled room—

—chained to a bed.

Every remaining wisp of fog in his mind cleared. The softness of a pillow dipped beneath his head as he craned his head back. The bed was a thick, four-poster, with intricate metalwork across the head and, as he looked downward, along the foot rail.

He frowned. His last memory was of lying facedown in the dirt, a
Na’Reish
warrior straddling his back, then . . . nothing. Now he lay between sunlight-scented sheets, a hand-sewn cover on top of them smoothed over him, as if the occupant of the room cared for his well-being.

His breath caught. Had he been sold while unconscious? Who had bought him? The why was evident—he lay in some
Na’Reishi’s
bed—and it sent chills all over him. Being bought to labor at the beck and call of a demon was sickening enough, but the idea of serving as a bed-slave . . . His skin prickled and adrenaline spiked through his veins as another, far more frightening possibility unfurled.

Was the
Na’Reishi
male or female?

Mother of Light
, it didn’t matter. He’d be free or dead, probably the latter, before he would be used or submit to either. But
Lady
be damned if he was going to wait around for his new owner to appear.

His muscles and joints were stiff, and more than a little sore, but that didn’t stop him twisting and tugging at his bonds, keeping his movements quiet, testing for any give until the skin under the manacles throbbed and bled.

Arek hissed a soft curse. He glared at the thick metal shackles banding his wrists. They held fast. He remained tethered, arms and legs spread.

Helpless.

With a silent groan, he collapsed back onto the pillow, the air in the chamber now cool on his sweat-soaked body. He welcomed the ache in his wrists and ankles but not the futility souring the back of his throat.

Lifting his head again, his gaze swept the room, looking for something, anything that might help him escape—and froze. In the corner, where the shadows were darkest, he made out a slender figure sitting in a rocker-chair. He tensed, every muscle in his body tightening as the seconds passed.

A log in the fireplace cracked as it collapsed and sent up a flare of fresh flames. The light banished some of the shadows wreathing the lone figure. She slept, oblivious of his scrutiny, another hand-sewn blanket, twin to the one that covered him, tucked over her lap.

And female she was.

A slave tasked to keep watch over him?

The strands of a ponytail draped over her shoulder, covering the rounded curve of a breast, the locks long enough to rest on the arm of the chair. The sheen was so black it was an ebony blue and seemed to absorb the light from the fire. Unraveled, he guessed her hair would fall to the middle of her back, thick and wavy after being freed from the tie. Long enough if she was astride a man’s body that just the tilt of her head would slide the strands over his hips or chest in a silky caress.

Heat shot through him, spiraling southward so fast he almost groaned. As pleasant as that image was, it was neither the time nor place to be distracted. Arek blinked in an effort to clear the picture from his mind.

In the dim light, the woman’s face remained lax with sleep. Her smooth skin had a sun-kissed tan that spoke of time spent outdoors. She seemed no older than him, someone who had seen nearly three decades of life. Her features were striking rather than beautiful—a high forehead, defined cheekbones, a slender nose, and a rounded yet firm jaw. Present circumstances aside, he’d have looked twice if their paths had crossed elsewhere.

She shifted in her slumber, the light of the fire flickering across her face. Full and expressive, the color of her lips looked dark, almost black. Arek frowned. Were the shadows playing tricks on him? The woman’s head turned, her cheek settling against the back of the rocker.

Goose bumps prickled over every inch of his skin. A dusting of fine, black splotches, the same ebony blue color as her hair, marked the side of her face. They extended onto her cheek and jawbone, becoming larger in shape and size before continuing down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt.

He didn’t need to see where the skin markings went beyond the collar. They covered the back of her torso, buttocks, and legs. Similar patterns marked the bodies of the demons he’d killed in battle.

She was
Na’Reish
, not a slave. Nausea rolled in his gut at his previous lustful thoughts.

Was this demon his new owner?

His lip curled as a dark heat seared its way through his veins. A gut-deep growl rumbled up from his chest.

She stirred. Black lashes lifted to reveal amethyst-colored eyes that glowed in the firelight. A couple of blinks cleared the sleep haze from them, then her gaze locked with his.

“You’re awake!” The sleep-husky voice held a note of excitement.

Slender hands threw back the blanket covering her. Long, breeches-clad legs unfolded and bare feet touched the stone floor. She rose from the chair, all six feet of her. Given her willowy build, her height didn’t surprise him.

Her shirt hung past her hips, untucked for comfort, but it clung to her curved form well enough for him to see the lean lines and flex of honed muscle, a body as fit and toned as any warrior. One who had trained for years.

Unexpected for a
Na’Reishi
female, particularly given that
Na’Reish
culture was strictly patriarchal. Not that he’d seen many females during his time on border patrol, just a few from a safe distance, and always as part of a well-guarded caravan.

This female was dressed as a warrior, yet those travelling with the caravans had always worn dresses and finery. He’d only ever seen males on the battleground, never a female. Her father, any brothers, or other males in her Clan would be tasked with her protection; therefore, the idea of her being a part of a patrol was doubtful.

So, why would a female of her rank feel the need to learn the warrior arts?

His musing was cut short as the
Na’Reishi
female smiled and took a step toward the bed. Firelight glinted on pointed teeth, overshadowing the innate gracefulness of her walk.

Arek’s blood ran ice cold. He sucked in a hard breath and strained against his bonds. When they refused to give again, his gaze slashed to hers and he bared his teeth. “Come any closer, demon, and I’ll kill you!”