It was dazzling enough by day with the eruption of water in the center basin
spilling over the smooth stones, but Micayla could only imagine what it must have been like to come out of the darkness into the light of such a shrine. She had to shade her eyes for a moment even after adjusting to the blazing sunshine outside. There were several Darconians there, some carrying water away in large flasks, some just gazing in awe at the power of the life-giving water. "This looks more like a shrine, doesn't it?"
Trag nodded. "It was the original one, but it was closed for years until Zealon became queen." Gesturing toward the water, he added, "You should get a drink while you're here. It's supposed to be good luck to drink from either of the fountains."
"And we need all the luck we can get, don't we?" she said with a grim smile.
Micayla stepped up to the water's edge, momentarily mesmerized by the clear
water flowing smoothly over the polished stone. Taking a cup from the low shelf carved beneath the lip, she scooped up a portion and drank, feeling the cool strength of it flowing throughout her body. "It certainly makes you feel better," she commented. "What's in it?"
"Nothing," he replied with a shrug. "It's just water."
Noting that he seemed to be making no move to take a cup of his own, she
prompted, "Aren't you going to have some?"
Trag shook his head. "I used to drink from the one upstairs all the time," he said.
"Any luck I might have gotten from it has probably all been used up by now."
"All the more reason to drink some more," she urged. Dipping her cup once again, she offered it to him.
Trag took the cup, albeit reluctantly, and began to drink.
"Ah," said a nearby Darconian woman. "You are lovers. I thought as much."
Upon hearing this, Trag choked and began coughing violently while Micayla
drew back in surprise. "Oh, no we aren't!" she protested.
"But you have given water to him from a cup that has touched your own lips," the Darconian said. "There can be no doubt."
"Maybe she did," Trag gasped between coughs, "but we aren't Darconians--
different rules!"
The Darconian woman laughed. "The Great Mother of the Desert does not
recognize those distinctions," she said archly. "What the water of The Shrine bestows cannot be denied."
"What are you, the High Priestess or something?" Micayla demanded, still aghast at the notion that she would ever mate with Trag, whose effect on her was anything but lover-like.
"Yes," the woman replied. "I am Shentuk, Keeper of The Shrine of the Desert."
"Must be a new job," Trag muttered. "I never heard any of that when I lived here before."
"Many of the old beliefs were lost when this shrine was closed," Shentuk explained. "When it was reopened, ancient texts were discovered that described the powers of the water." Smiling, she shook her head, causing the beads of her many necklaces to clink together. The sound echoed throughout the chamber even more than their voices had done, and when Shentuk spoke again, her words were strangely
amplified. "As The Great Mother of the Desert has willed it, so shall it be."
It may have just been a trick of the acoustics in The Shrine, but to Micayla, it
sounded disturbingly like a prophesy.
Bowing his head as though in acceptance, Trag whispered, "Let's get out of here--
now!"
"I'm with you on that one," she whispered back.
Aloud, Trag muttered his thanks to Shentuk and then hustled Micayla toward the
door.
Chapter 10
"You don't really believe any of that mystical crap, do you?" Micayla said as she headed back toward the stairs, Shentuk's laughter echoing behind them.
Taking her by the arm, Trag muttered, "Not that way," pulling her in the opposite direction. "Might be bad luck. Maybe taking the long way around will cancel it out."
"I suppose I can take that as a yes," Micayla said dryly. "Trag, I'm surprised at you!"
"Listen," said Trag, "I've seen a lot of strange stuff--prophesies, visions, and such--and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't always dismiss them as mystical nonsense."
"So, what are you saying?" she said, jogging to keep up with him. "That we're cursed or something?"
"Shit, I don't know," Trag said. "But it sure as hell sounded like it to me."
Micayla remained skeptical. "Mind telling me just what visions you've seen?"
"I haven't had any myself," Trag said, striking off again at a fast pace through the portico, "but Ty has. He had a vision that Kyra would come and that his life would change."
"Oh, surely you don't believe that!" she scoffed. "Did he tell you that before or after she arrived?"
"After," Trag replied, "but--"
"Well, that was convenient," she said mildly. "I'm not sure I'd believe it myself unless he told me ahead of time."
"Yes, but Cat does it too," Trag countered. "He had a vision that Nedwuts blew up Zetith, and that one turned out to be true--just wish he'd had one about Rutger Grekkor!
He also knows when women friends are pregnant--even the sex of the children--and Leo's had a few mystical experiences of his own. It's a Zetithian thing," he added, looking nervously over his shoulder as though the curse was somehow following them.
Following his glance, Micayla saw Shentuk standing by the entrance to The
Shrine, waving at them in farewell. "Oh, really?"
"Yes, really," Trag assured her.
"Well, be that as it may, I've never had any visions--well, not like that, though I do have a sort of deja vu thing now and then--and you say you haven't either, so..."
"No, I haven't," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I can't start, and right now, I'm seeing disaster."
"Disaster?" she echoed. "Being my mate would be a disaster?"
"What--you think we'd be the happiest couple in history?"
"Well, no, maybe not, but--"
"I'm not chancing it," he said roundly. Reaching the corner of the palace walls, he turned quickly, breathing a sigh of relief as though escaping Shentuk's line of sight made such a horrendous calamity less likely.
Trag walked on in silence after that but at least slackened his pace. Micayla had no idea what he was thinking, but she was trying to understand why his flat refusal irked
her so much. After all, practically every man she'd ever met would have given his left nut for the chance to--
That was it, she decided. She wasn't feeling hurt because he didn't want her--and it wasn't vanity, either. It was simply that, having had to refuse so many men in the past, it seemed odd when she didn't have to. The novelty of it appealed to her for some reason, and she smiled to herself.
***
"That's fine," she said, still smiling disturbingly. He must have appeared skeptical, for she added, "No, really, I don't mind at all."
"Good," he said shortly.
"In fact," she went on, "I think we should make a pact not to be lovers."
"I like that idea," Trag said with a firm nod. "We will not be lovers, no matter what The Great Mother of the Desert has to say about it."
"Agreed," she said, holding out her hand. "Pact?"
"Pact," Trag said, gripping her hand tightly. "And don't hiss at me anymore."
"I only did that once, Trag!" she protested. "I still don't know why, either--but I'll try not to."
"And while we're at it," he said as another thought occurred to him, "don't tease me about Kyra. I know it's not right, but I can't help how I feel."
"Okay," she said, "but can I make one request?"
"Maybe," he said cautiously. "What is it?"
"Rodan," she said with a shudder. "Just don't leave me alone with him if you can help it."
"You aren't afraid of him, are you?" Trag asked in surprise. "I thought you were tough."
"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I want to be alone with him. Especially not when he's naked."
Trag chuckled knowingly. "Scary, isn't it?"
"You know, on Earth, a well-endowed man is generally referred to as being hung like a horse, but he's more like a bull elephant."
Trag couldn't help but think that Rodan would be proud of this analogy, but he
kept that opinion to himself. "Okay. You don't tease me about Kyra, and I won't give Rodan the chance to try anything funny."
"Good," she said, "because if I have to, I'll rip his big, hairy donkey balls off and feed them to the rats--or whatever they have around here."
Trag also promised to warn Rodan not to suggest anything that might put said
balls within the range of Micayla's fangs. Trag was thankful that his own jewels were hidden securely inside his pants. After all, he didn't want her getting any ideas.
***
"They've left the younger ones on Terra Minor with Bonnie and Lynx as
planned," Tychar said as he read Jack's missive to the group. "Lynx wanted to come here, of course, but Bonnie needs him."
"I'm sure she does," Kyra said. "That would be six babies to care for--along with her farm. Still, I wish Jack had been able to bring everyone," she added wistfully. "I'd love to see them."
"It's probably best that they stay on Terra Minor," Tychar said. "Better climate, not to mention very strict landing regulations."
"Yes, but we live in a palace with guards," Kyra reminded her husband. "Scalia kept you guys safe for twenty years, and we've got a whole lot more room than Bonnie does."
"She lives on a farm, for heaven's sake," Trag pointed out. "They've probably got tons of room."
"Well, she did say that she and Lynx had built on to the house," Kyra admitted.
Sighing, she added, "Wouldn't it be great if we all lived on the same planet?"
"Perhaps when this matter is settled, we will be able to," Tychar said soberly.
"But until that time, as Jack always says, it's best not to put all of our eggs in one basket."
"And Terra Minor is the safest basket there is," Kyra agreed. "Maybe someday."
Micayla listened to this discussion with interest, the idea of a whole planet
populated by Zetithians capturing her imagination. Always considered an oddity before, in present company she was among the majority for the first time since that fateful day when she was separated from her family, and she was already beginning to realize what it would it be like to be a part of that culture and not feel quite so alone in the universe.
Even so, as the only Zetithian female, there was no one with whom she could
truly relate. Kyra knew firsthand what it was like to love a Zetithian, whereas Micayla and Windura could only guess at it, and now that Micayla had made her pact with Trag, Windura probably stood a better chance of being Trag's lover than she did.
Micayla leaned back in her chair, her eyes widening in shock. She was actually
thinking about it! Was she already regretting their agreement? Stealing a glance at Trag, she found she could easily restrain herself from biting or hissing at him now, but just then he grinned at something Tychar said and the feeling returned.
"I still do," Tychar was saying. "Think you're up to it?"
"I feel pretty good," Trag replied. "I think I could handle it."
"Tonight, then," Tychar said.
Having lost the thread of the conversation, Micayla looked questioningly at
Tychar, who explained, "We used to run on top of the portico at night when we were slaves. It kept us from going crazy."
"And made them that much more irresistible to the poor, unsuspecting piano
teacher," Kyra added. "I nearly fainted when I first saw them--though the heat might have had something to do with my reaction."
"I can imagine it would," Windura said frankly. "It's taking a long time for me to get used to it too."
Since she and Windura had been taking it easy since their arrival in an attempt to adjust to the Darconian climate, Micayla hadn't done anything more strenuous than walking the corridors of the palace, but she was already beginning to feel the
sluggishness she normally associated with inactivity. "I could use a run," she said. "If the heat doesn't kill me, that is."
Tychar eyed her speculatively, but it was Trag who commented. "She's tough
enough," he said, "as long as we don't spend too much time in The Shrine."
"I don't do very well in there either," Kyra agreed. "It's much too humid!"
Micayla knew quite well that Trag hadn't been referring to the humidity level
since she'd been giving both shrines a wide berth following their meeting with Shentuk. If his initial reaction to the "prophesy" was any indication, she suspected that he was doing the same. And she didn't blame him one bit.
***
emerged from The Shrine. Tychar led the way, but nothing in his perfect male form affected her the way the presence of Trag walking beside her did. His eyes glowed in the moonlight when he happened to glance at her, sending tendrils of carnivorous urges wending their way through her brain. She should want to kiss him. There was nothing about him that should have made her feel so vicious. She should be admiring him.
"You aren't going to run like that, are you?" Tychar asked with an amused twinkle.
She glanced at Trag and then back at Ty. "Like what?"
"With clothes on," he replied. "You won't make it halfway around the palace."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Trag stripping off his pants before
skimming off his stretchy undergarment. She averted her eyes abruptly, not wanting to see his cock. It would look just like Tychar's, after all, she reasoned. No need to look at it.
Certainly no need to stare...
"What about you?" Tychar asked her.
The clothing she wore would have been comparable to a bikini on Earth, but on
Darconia it was more like wearing a cloak. "I think I'll keep it on," she replied. "It's not that hot, really."